Candy Kisses

Candy Kisses

Chapter Eight

“Everybody Knows The Dice Are Loaded
Everybody Rolls With Their Fingers Crossed
Everybody Knows The War Is Over
Everybody Knows The Good Guys Lost”
-- Leonard Cohen

Are you sure this is a good idea?

Don’t you trust me, little sister? Marzi tilted his head, examining his reflection in the mirror. Due to the nature of the occasion, he’d chosen to dress modestly -- subdued colors, plain fabrics, and all his buttons securely fastened. He wore black denim jeans, and a black shirt, partially hidden beneath an even darker black vest. A gold chain ran from the vest’s lowest buttonhole to its shallow pocket. Marzi didn’t actually own a pocket watch, but he liked the chain’s subtle implication of bondage. I’m just going to have a little chat with your current paramour. What are you worried about?

Oh, I don’t know. Maybe waking up tomorrow and finding Nicholas handcuffed to our bed?

Pepper! That would never happen. Marzi slipped a slender gold hoop through the lobe of each ear, and then turned away from the mirror. You know full well that I’m a submissive. If anyone ends up handcuffed to our bed, it’s going to be me.

Spare me the gruesome details.

Abandoning their bedroom, Marzi headed for the kitchen. Part of him knew that he shouldn’t be teasing Pepper about such a sensitive subject. But he couldn’t resist. He so rarely got the upper hand where his sister was concerned. Do you really think that I’d seduce your sweetie?

I think you’d seduce the living room sofa, if it showed the slightest interest.

Hey, that couch has been hitting on me ever since you bought it. As he entered the kitchen, Marzi began to open random cabinets, searching for a bottle of wine. He still wasn’t accustomed to having so much food around. However, sharing a body required compromises, and Pepper had made it clear to Marzi that his usual diet of sugar and alcohol might be fine for a drunken hummingbird, but she needed a bit more variety. So now he had to sort through cans of vegetables, jars of spices, bags of dried pasta, and other unfamiliar items.

Look, he tried to assure, I like Nicholas. He seems really nice. I just want to talk to him, get to know him a bit better. Make sure he’s worthy of you.

And what if he doesn’t meet your approval, big brother? What then?

Marzi could tell, by the tone of her voice, that the time for teasing had passed. So he answered honestly. Once, if I remember correctly, I fell in love with someone my sister didn’t approve of. But she never stopped being there for me. I hope I’d be able to do as much for her.

Pepper didn’t reply with words. But a feeling of warmth, compassion, and love seemed to wrap itself around Marzi, until he almost believed that his sister was physical again, holding him in her arms. And he remembered why he hadn’t died that night in December. Remembered what gave him the strength to keep living every day since then. Pepper, I...

I know, big brother. I know.

Finally, behind a large bag of rice, Marzi located two bottles of his favorite vintage. With a whistle of triumph, he pulled the wine from the cabinet. Then he headed for the living room.

Two bottles? Isn’t that a bit of overkill? Just how drunk do you plan on getting Nicholas?

Nicholas? These are for me. I figured your sweetie would want lemonade. Holding a bottle in each hand, Marzi sat down on the allegedly lecherous sofa. So. Are you coming along for the ride?

No. A slight shudder emanated from Pepper. I hate being inside you when he doesn’t know that I’m there. It feels like I’m spying on him.

Pepper. You need to tell him.

Tell him? Tell him what? Tell him that he’s dating a circus freak? A rush of images flashed through Marzi’s head, beginning with a pair of large hands accepting a box of truffles, and ending with a stolen kiss. I don’t want to lose him, Marzi. Not like I lost...

James was different. He came from a different world. Fuck, he was Catholic! His kind burn witches and shuttle homosexuals off to hell. Even before you ended up inside my body, there was never a big chance that he’d accept the truth of who you are. But Nicholas didn’t freak out when you told him that you do magic, did he? Maybe he can deal with this.

Marzi could sense his sister’s fear, and it seemed strange that she could be scared of things which bothered him so little. But that was the difference between them. Physical intimacy, vulnerability, and rejection; those were her bogeymen. While the monsters that she faced with such ease -- responsibility, stability, and being alone -- were the creatures that haunted his darkness.

And I suppose, she challenged, that you’re always honest with your lovers?

Always. Oh sure, sometimes I sprinkle on a little sugar. I say that they’re wittier or prettier than they really are. But by the time the evening is over, they know what they’re getting. If it’s my body, I tell them that. If it’s my heart, I tell them that, too.

Has anyone ever truly gotten your heart, big brother?

“Once,” Marzi whispered, momentarily forgetting that he only needed to think his words. “Just once.”

Before Pepper could pursue that confession, the doorbell rang, and Marzi jumped to his feet. At the same moment, Pepper abruptly withdrew from his thoughts. Leaving him alone as he went to welcome Nicholas.

When he arrived at the door, Marzi realized, somewhat belatedly, that he still held a bottle of wine in each hand. Awkwardly, he shoved one bottle under his arm. Then, with his free hand, he fumbled to open the door’s numerous locks, several of which required a brief incantation in addition to any physical manipulations. Finally, the last lock released its grip, allowing Marzi to pull open the door. And that brought him face to face with Pepper’s sweetheart. Standing alone in the hallway, Nicholas looked particularly uncomfortable, his hands curled into fists, and shoved so deeply inside his jacket pockets that Marzi expected the fabric to rip from the strain of holding them. He seemed like a man trying to brace himself against a blow that might fall at any minute.

“Um,” Nicholas greeted, staring at the floor. “Hey. Here I am.”

“Come on in,” Marzi urged, gesturing toward the living room. In his eagerness to make Nicholas feel welcome, Marzi lost control of the wine bottle stashed under his arm. But before it could hit the floor, his instincts kicked in, and he caught the bottle’s neck with a nimbleness that would have impressed a juggler.

Marzi’s acrobatics coaxed a slight smile from Nicholas. “I didn’t realize your invitation included entertainment.”

“Just wait until I’ve drunk one of these. Then I’ll be REALLY entertaining.” Marzi laughed. “Well, go ahead and have a seat. Make yourself at home.”

Obediently, Nicholas wandered into the living room, and sat down on a chair across from the sofa. Marzi placed the two wine bottles on the coffee table in front of him. Then he nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Wine will be fine.”

Marzi raised an eyebrow, surprised by Nicholas’s choice. But he didn’t mind sharing. “Okay. Let me grab a couple of cups.”

In the kitchen, Marzi didn’t have any trouble finding two glasses. But, before bringing them back to the living room, he lingered in its entrance, studying Nicholas. The young man sat with his hands still wedged in his jacket pockets, and his eyes fixed on the far wall, as if trying to defeat it in a staring contest. Shadows masked his expression. Absently, Marzi caressed the stem of one wine glass, and imagined freeing Nicholas from the shyness which bound him like chains. It had been Marzi’s experience that those who spent their lives serving silence often screamed the loudest when finally set free. And Marzi knew just what to say, just where to touch, to have Nicholas howling in his bed by the end of the evening...it was tempting. But Pepper would kill him. Rightfully so, too. Marzi sighed. He’d just have to keep his hands off.

Entering the living room, Marzi set the glasses down on the coffee table. “Oh, hey, I’m being a terrible host. Can I take your jacket?”

“No!” Nicholas blinked, apparently startled by the force of his own answer. “I mean, um, no thanks. I’m a bit cold.”

Privately, Marzi wondered if Nicholas thought he was trying to get him naked, one piece of clothing at a time. But he didn’t press the subject. Instead, he sunk down on the sofa, and pulled the cork out of one wine bottle. “Look, I’ll be honest. I’m not much good at small talk. Not unless I’m trying to seduce someone.”

Nicholas turned a deep shade of pink.

“Which, obviously, I’m not doing right now,” Marzi hastened to clarify. Leaning forward, he poured some wine for Nicholas, and then filled his own glass. “This is the thing. You like my sister, right?”

At first, Nicholas didn’t reply. Instead, he tapped his finger against the side of his cup, watching the red liquid tremble within it. Like a heartbeat trying to push blood that has nowhere left to go. For some reason, Marzi thought of stories he’d heard, about sopranos able to hit notes so high they shattered glass. Something beautiful turned into a weapon of destruction. When Nicholas finally spoke, his voice didn’t break anything, but it carried some of that same power. “Yes. I like her.”

“Well, I really like her, too.” Before Marzi could continue, Nicholas’s face scrunched into a look of disgust, and again, Marzi hurried to make his meaning clear. “No! Not like that. That’s sick, even by my standards.”

Marzi shook his head, trying to rid it of the images that had been summoned by Nicholas’s assumption. “What I mean is that I care about her. As a sister. And I know that she’s been through a lot recently -- most of which was my fault. I can’t take back the things I did. The mistakes I made. But I can try to see to it that she doesn’t get hurt again.”

“I’d never hurt her. Never.” With a single, swift motion, Nicholas drained his glass of wine. Then his eyes met Marzi’s, his expression fierce and desperate, like some cornered animal. “I don’t know where she lives. I can’t call her, can’t even listen to the sound of her voice. She pops into my life, and then she pops out again, and nothing is worth a damn when she’s not there. Tell me what I need to do to make her happy. Tell me what I need to do to make her feel safe. Please. Tell me what I need to do to make her stay.”

Looking at Nicholas, Marzi could no longer doubt the young man’s sincerity. And he decided that it was time for the charade to end. Before Pepper and Nicholas both lost something precious. “Hey, are you hungry? I think I’m going to run into the kitchen and grab something to eat.”

Nicholas blinked, apparently shocked beyond words by Marzi’s abrupt topic change. But since Marzi didn’t really care if Nicholas was hungry or not, he didn’t wait until the young man recovered his voice before hurrying back to the kitchen.

Pepper! Only silence met his summoning, but Marzi refused to give up. He knew his sister could hear him. Pepper, I never thought I’d be the one to say this, but stop being childish. Come out here and tell Nicholas the truth. He’s so in love with you, it’s cute beyond all belief. The truth won’t change that.

Still, only silence answered him. Pepper could be so stubborn sometimes. Especially when she was scared. Frustrated, Marzi tossed his hands into the air. Fine. It’s your life. However, unless you plan on confining your relationship to very chaste kisses, he’s going to find out sooner or later. And I promise you, it will be better if he gets the news while he’s sitting in your living room, rather than lying in your bed.

But even his rare attempt at logic failed to sway her. Shaking his head, Marzi started back toward the living room. Then, abruptly, he remembered his pretense for coming into the kitchen. After a quick search, he grabbed a box of crackers, and returned to Nicholas. “Women,” he groaned, tossing the crackers down on the coffee table. “I swear, times like this remind me why I prefer my own gender.”

Nicholas nodded, obviously having abandoned all hope of following Marzi’s fragmented conversation. “Um. Yeah.”

Dropping down on the sofa, Marzi grabbed his glass of wine, and gulped down its contents. Then immediately regretted his haste. Damn Pepper for getting him so upset that he forgot to savor the taste of his favorite vintage. Determined not to repeat the mistake, he poured himself some more. “Still, I suppose they make life interesting. Shall we drink to god’s most enigmatic creation?”

Biting his lip, Nicholas raised his empty glass, and Marzi leaned forward, intending to consummate the toast. But without warning, Nicholas’s cup blurred, causing him to miss it by nearly an inch. “Wow,” Marzi murmured, trying again. “That usually doesn’t happen until I’m well into the second bottle.”

“Marzi...”

A strange, tingling numbness started to spread from Marzi’s fingertips. Puzzled, he tried to set down his glass. But his movements had grown suddenly clumsy, and the cup slipped from his grip, bouncing against the table edge before splattering wine across the living room carpet. For a moment, all Marzi could think was that Pepper was going to kill him for making such a mess. Then, slowly, the truth dawned on him. “Nicholas...? What did you...?”

Nicholas looked sick and scared, as if he was the one who had been drugged. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Grabbing the sofa arm, Marzi forced himself to stand. If he could get to the kitchen, if he could get his hands on some sugar, he might be able to cast an antidote spell. But the floor seemed to sway under his feet, and walking felt like trying to balance while wearing Pepper’s high heels. After only a few steps, his legs buckled, sending him crashing down. And, despite the desperate growl that escaped his lips, he couldn’t even push himself back up onto his hands and knees.

Dimly, Marzi became aware of Nicholas standing over him. “Don’t try to fight it. He promised you wouldn’t get hurt as long as you didn’t put up a fight.”

“Pepper...” Marzi gasped, trying to explain. Trying, far too late, to make Nicholas realize what he was doing. Who he was betraying.

“It’s alright. I’ll look after Pepper. I swear.”

No... You don’t understand... But Marzi’s mouth refused to shape the words. Instead, darkness collapsed down on him, like the walls of a poorly built house. The last thing he heard before passing out was the sound of the apartment door swinging open.