IV

AMBITIOUS

Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl.
— Julie Anne Peters, Keeping You a Secret

SAN FRANCISCO

WHO LET THE DOG’S OUT barks from a small ceiling speaker in the pirate-themed, tacky restroom while I’m having a piss. After scrolling through X for a bit, I wipe and pull my lace thong up under my Akris organza flower sheer mini dress and over my rump.

I walk through the stall door as the toilet flushes and go to the sink which is decorated with ships and seashells. An eye-patched skull squirts soap into my hand and I start scrubbing.

Cackling voices precede the entrance of three young women, all around my age, as they come pouring into the restroom. I’m leaning on the sink with my hands, my bare arms flexing and veins swollen, and staring into my reflection in the mirror. My straight, platinum hair is a curtain around my perfect face, and my makeup is on point with some light foundation, subtle eye shadow, and red lipstick that matches my Akris organza flower sheer mini dress.

They notice me. How could they not? My Jimmy Choo wedge sandals make me a foot taller than all of them and the heels make my thick legs look fantastic.

“Hello, girls,” I say before touching up my lipstick.

They offer a combination of hey’s and hi’s before splitting off into separate stalls. Their gossip starts at man problems before transitioning to some video on TikTok that sounds so hilarious. I grab my Valentino Garavani clutch, stick my lipstick back in the bag, and leave.

The Cupid Shuffle is blasting in the Smuggler’s Cove, a cocktail bar in Fillmore District. There are a dozen people in various states of inebriation interspersed throughout the limited floorspace doing the stupid dance. Poorly.

My date for the evening, Nessa Wall, is waiting for me tucked away at our secluded table, farther away from the sound system so we can actually hear one another.

I sit down on the hard chair and place my clutch to the side. “Our drinks came,” I say excitedly. “And you waited for me? Awh.”

Her eyes brighten and she says, “I may have snuck a sip or two.”

“You bitch.”

She laughs while waving me off with her small, nimble fingers. The blonde bombshell is looking absolutely delicious in a tight little strapless red polka-dot dress that is cream colored at the top before fading into a crimson past the hip. I think it’s a Johanna Ortiz.

She ordered something called a Demerara Dry Float which came in a tiki head goblet with a thick straw and garnished with leaves. I went with the Smuggler’s Rum Barrel, which has been served in an actual barrel mug. The barrel cost me an extra thirty bucks but when in Rome.

I lean over and take a drink. It’s mostly rum, with spices and a splash of pineapple and passion fruit. Given the locale, it tastes rather good.

“Oh boy,” I say after leaning back, feigning discomfort over the burn of alcohol rushing down my throat.

“Yeah, mine’s strong, too,” she says, a little awkward. We’ve been here for twenty minutes and so far we’ve done nothing but make small talk. There’s something more substantial chewing in her brain but she has hesitated bringing it up, which only makes me curiouser.

“So,” I say after deciding to yank on that chain.

“So,” she repeats with a big smile.

“I’m always more than happy to see you, Nessa, but I doubt you came all the way to San Francisco to sit in a swashbuckler bar and drink hokey cocktails. I mean, don’t get me wrong. If this visit was all pleasure, I wouldn’t object…”

She laughs.

“What would Azzy think about that?”

“She won’t mind, other than maybe feeling left out, but she’s not in town. Besides, we’re not together-together. It’s casual. Why? Jealous?”

She gives a little head shake, then takes another drink before placing her goblet down.

“A little liquid courage,” the Other Me says as she slinks out from behind me to sit in the empty third chair. Her hair and dress match mine, but she’s dirty, disheveled and wet, like she just crawled out of the sea.

“This’ll be good.”

Nessa sighs before saying, “I wanted to talk about Mari.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve noticed lately she has been changing. She has always been ambitious and, well, cutthroat, but she had to be to get where she is now.”

I keep drinking while listening, stopping only to add, “Unfortunately in business, as a woman, you have to be. Trust me, I know. Do you think that good-ol-boys-club that my idiot brother put in charge of my father’s foundation wanted to see me walk through that door? I fired half of them the first day.”

“I know. I get it. But it’s different now.”

“How?”

“I’m not sure how else to say it. It’s like a black cloud is following her everywhere and it’s made her downright mean at times.”

“I wonder where that black cloud came from,” my Dark Half says with her broken nails digging into the table top as her eyes swivel toward me. “Or what her name is.”

“Hmm,” I say with a mouthful of rum before swallowing. “I haven’t really noticed, to be honest. We’ve not spent a lot of time together lately. We mostly communicate over text or zoom and when we do, it tends to be all business.”

Nessa gives me an uh-huh. She might as well be rolling her eyes.

“What’s that mean,” I ask simply.

“I think you know what it means.”

My hand touches my chest in aghast. “Are you suggesting that I am to blame for this black cloud thing you’re talking about?”

“Yelena, she’s been off for a month. Something about her has changed but she won’t talk to me about it. I’m concerned and I think if anyone knows what happened, it’s you.”

The Other Me grins. “Oh, we do, don’t we? We remember how lil Mari broke down in tears because her grandpappy wanted to steal her business. We remember watching his body blister and burn through the little window in the crematorium.”

“Sweet Nessa,” I say, my voice turning sour. “I didn’t come here to be brought down and accused. I came here for some girl talk, drinks, and maybe find someone to fuck in the alley. Since you seem to have a stick up your ass, I’m assuming you’re out of the running.”

I take a drink and start to stand.

“Wait,” she says while leaning slightly off-kilter to the side. “Where are you going?”

“To find better company.” I say, reaching for my clutch. “Someone who didn’t wrangle me into a cocktail date just to prod for information. For the record I think Mari is doing fantastic. Look at how well VilaroFit is doing. It’s all her. Maybe she’s a mean cunt sometimes. So am I and so are you.”

Her hand reaches out to place on top of mine, stopping me from walking away. She looks up at me with a red face, her skin flush from the booze that’s causing her words to run together. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m just concerned about her, is all. I shouldn’t have made it sound like you were responsible.”

She bats those baby blues and ever so slightly bites down on her bottom lip.

“Please stay. I’ve missed you. A lot.”

It sounds sincere.

“Allow me,” the Other Me hoarsely says as she creeps into Nessa’s personal space, moving behind her chair and leaning over to breathe in deeply. “She doesn’t trust you. Not completely. Who can blame her? I can smell it coming out of her pores. Or maybe it’s all that rum she’s been downing like water. Look at her tiki head. She must have guzzled half of it when you were in the bathroom. Liquid courage, amirite?”

But then a little moan escapes my Dark Half’s lips. “Mmm, and what’s that heat radiating off her? And that sweet scent ever so subtly in the air?” She giggles while whipping to Nessa’s other shoulder. “Oh, this girl is ripe for the picking if you play your cards right. Maybe she knows you’re the snake in the Garden but she’s thirsty for more than a cabana cocktail. I can practically taste her dripping, wet—”

“It’s okay,” I say while sitting back down into my chair. Her hand lingers on mine and her fingertips caress across my skin before slipping away.

“Let’s start over,” Nessa says. “I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t come here to talk about Mari. Really.”

“She didn’t come here only to talk about Mari,” my Dark Half clarifies after moving around the table and behind me, before returning inside her refuge inside of my consciousness.

Nessa gives me an uneven grin with her perfect white teeth peeking through her soft, glossy lips. She says, “I think you’re a good friend to her, and to me. Let’s forget the whole thing and just have a good time, okay? I’ll even remove that stick from my ass.”

She grabs her mug and holds it up. A little bit of rum splashes over the rim and she laughs before licking it off her hand. I watch her tongue in slow motion roll from her wrist, over her thumb joint and to the tip.

Take me now.

I grab my barrel, raise it next to her’s, and say, “I can help you with that.”

She cracks a laugh. “Licking my arm or removing the stick from my ass?”

“Let’s start with extracting the stick from your ass,” I say while leaning forward until my breasts are over the table. “Then we’ll talk about licking. Skål!”

We clink our glasses together before throwing our straws aside and taking big swigs of our cocktails.

Dear Ace,

Will it be three times the charm for Yelena, or will you, once again, end up at the bottom of the heap, passed out in my arms dreaming about the mysteries of the cosmos? You are a genius, after all. I’m sure you’ve run the numbers on your chances of succeeding this time.

We can only imagine your reaction when you saw the announcement. A submission match? Gasp! One last chance to get one over on lil ol’ Yelena? Shock! Did you plug all the variables into your algorithm? Did you Bruce Wayne that shit in your underground bunker?

We try to respect our opponents. It makes for better sport. But you? You don’t deserve to stand across from us. You’re raw meat tossed into the cage to draw out the lion so the guests can see a show.

You’re being fed to us, Ace, and we’re gonna devour you. We’re gonna put on a show. And then we’re gonna leave whatever’s left of you in the ring.

You’re not the hero in this story. That role has already been cast and his name is Tony Savage. You’re the set up. You’re the side quest we have to clear to reach the end of my First Act in CULT.

When we failed in our bid for the New World Championship, we ain’t gonna lie, it stung. But we’ve learned so much over the last two months. Being the smarty pants you are, you must be well read. You know all about Darwin and evolutionary biology.

Every animal that has ever existed faced two choices when their environment changes.

Adapt to the new or die with the old.

Do you know what’s the most resilient and adaptive organism in the history of our shit pile of a planet? Sure you do, chum. You’re a learned man. We’ll answer for the rest of the class.

It’s a parasite, and that’s what we are. Ever changing to perfectly latch onto whatever place or person we come in contact with and drain them for everything they’re worth before moving on to the next.

All you are, Ace, is another vector on the way to our preferred host.