Velli

Sitting in my suit with my feet up on her coffee table as Dream changes in her room fills me with a weird sort of glee—a glee that’s rare for me, glee that extends from a hopeful future. I adjust my bow tie, a black and simple thing. Longer ties are better, but my father died before he could teach me how to tie a tie. I’ve learned through videos since then, but I’m still not confident in my ability, so I stick to bow ties.

You shouldn’t be confident in them, either. It’s crooked. Push it to the left.

I lean back and relax. Fate never actually wants to help. If he says it’s crooked, that means it’s finally good. Everything is good. I tap my pockets. Yep, phone in one, wallet in the back pocket, and a carrot in another. Everything’s good. A crackling campfire plays on the TV and creates a warm, homey ambiance. I help myself to a mint from the bowl on the table, toss it inside my mouth, and suck on the peppermint goodness. I close my eyes in ecstasy. I’m so at peace I could fall asleep.

I do fall asleep. A deep, dark blanket of tranquility covers me. Eventually, something taps my shoulder. I yawn, nice and long. There’s no rush tonight. I’ve planned it perfectly, so I enjoy every moment. I stretch my arms and flex my hips. Those light fingers tap me again. Dream’s touch. When I open my eyes, she stands in front of me. My heart races. She’s in a sky-blue dress that touches the floor.

Same place your jaw is. Have some self-respect.

It’s surprisingly low-cut and hugs her body. Something comes over me. I stand, grab her hand, and spin her like a ballerina.

“You’re gorgeous,” I say against my will. Fate, are you doing this?

No, idiot, you’ve gone ditzy over the girl.

She responds giddily. What’s going on? I’ve never used the word “giddy” in my life, but that’s what she is. Her cheeks rise in a smile, and her eyes, painted with sky-blue eyeshadow, squint, so I press on.

“All of you,” I say midspin. She faces me now, and I tell her, “Sit with me.” With the same care botanists use to dissect flowers, I bring her to my lap.

Gross, Velli. She does not want to be this close to you.

Dream wiggles her hips on me and snuggles closer. “I look good, huh?”

I strategize how I can do something like look her body up and down, take in all her beauty, and dwell in this irreplaceable moment with an irreplaceable girl, then blow my cool, minty breath in her face and say, “You’re all right,” and we’ll both know what I mean.

But Fate’s right. My ability to implement a plan is gone. All I have is raw honesty. “You look great” is all I can actually say between a smile and big chomps of my mint.

We both laugh. Her hazel eyes drop to my lips. Her lipstick is pale pink. She squeezes my thigh. My right hand travels down her back.

The doorbell rings.

Dream jumps to her feet. My heart leaps.

“Who’s that?” She turns to me with a sarcastic wink. “We should open it, right?”

Love’s spell is momentarily broken. I’m able to stand, and I’m back in control. I don’t answer her. Instead, I stroll to the door.

She follows, face perking with happy, anxious curiosity. “Velli?”

I pull the door open and bow to Dream like a knight for his princess. “Your carriage awaits.”

She steps out into the moonlit darkness and freeing cool air. In front of her stands a carriage, a literal carriage, straight from the fairy tales. There are levels to transporters. The one’s that anyone can order from an app are basic. This is a transporter for the rich.

The carriage is white, circular, and with an exterior made of fine white wires. If it rained, it would be an awful experience, but tonight, the weather is flawless, cloudless. The only thing we have to share the sky with is the moon. A single black horse stands in front of the house. It moves in place, a bit skittish, which shows off its rainbow horseshoes.

Dream runs to pet the big, beautiful beast. “I wish we had a carrot for you.”

I pull the treat from my pocket and toss it to her. Her jaw drops, and I think she realizes how much planning went into tonight.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She catches it, feeds it to him, and pets his mane. “Good boy,” she says, as the horse does the impossible job of eating a carrot. “Um, Velli… how can you afford all this?”

“It came with the ticket.”

“How much was this ticket?” The horse takes a big chomp as she stops petting it.

“Watch your fingers,” I say.

She lets go of the carrot in time, allowing the horse to finish the rest of it. “Oh, hungry boy,” she consoles him. “Good boy.” She comes back to me again. This time a little scared. “This had to be a lot. I don’t know if you can do all this for me.”

“It was free.”

“How?”

“I’m clever, remember?” I take her hand and walk her to the carriage. “Not every secret is bad, right?”

“Right…”

I place her on the cushioned seats.

She wiggles, searching for the right level of comfort while still remaining dignified. This time, when she does her rough impression of Rose, I don’t get nervous. “Right,” she confirms with a nod. “Where’s the driver?”

“It’s just us,” I say then yell, “Take off!”

The horse leaps in the air, and the carriage follows as smooth as butter. The ride itself didn’t even register the change. Without much effort, the carriage has us in the air then right outside the arena.

“Oh, that was quick.” She doesn’t rush to get out.

“Yeah, the horse is technically a teleporter.”

“Well, that’s fine.” She bears more grace in her pose than her sister as she offers me her hand. “Will you help me out, Prince Velli?”

Prince Velli, I like that. “Of course.” I open the door and step out myself before guiding her down.

A shady figure in a suit stands outside the large steps to the auditorium. He stares us down. I know him. I ignore him. I’ll address him later. Long gray steps lead to the dome where our entertainment will be for the evening, steps made to fit the masses that pile onto them. Yet tonight, all that space isn’t necessary. No scalpers even sell tickets, real or fake. I’m sure they did at one point, but these tickets are too valuable. Selling them is an easy way to have them ripped from a person’s hands.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Yes, tonight, it’s fairly empty. Only small groups of people, men mostly, in their best outfits walk toward the dome. For the men who come alone, they look down, solemn yet energized. The anxiousness of those who come in groups is apparent. They make bad jokes, and laughs follow easily. The guys here with their wives or girlfriends have a special look, too, all deceptive smiles that show they feel they’re getting away with something.

Our shady friend in the suit stands to the far left, away from everybody. He stares Dream and me down. I guess I should talk to him.

“Dream, can you head inside? I need to speak to a friend of mine.”

“Okay, Prince Velli,” she says.

I watch her walk up those big gray steps. Her heels do wonders for her. She turns around to smile and catches me midstare. I don’t care. I smile back at her. She takes another step up and looks back to see I’m still watching.

What else is worth looking at?

Her pale lipstick looks great when she smiles. She motions for me to go talk to my friend. I motion for her to keep walking. She moves her hand in a shooing motion. I move my finger in a circle motion for her to turn around. She shoos again. I spin my finger. She shoos faster. I spin faster. We’re really just playing our own game of sign language at this point.

We both stop at the same time, knowing exactly when to quit.

“See you soon!” I yell.

“See ya, Prince Velli.” Dream heads upstairs.

I don’t move. I don’t want to quit. She smells so good tonight. I don’t know scents, but it’s not fruity like she always smells. It’s strong, mature, and adult. I hope she’s free after the show.

“Hey, hey, hey, Velli, what in the dried, moldy, wet piece of earth is this?” Carreon Bane, the mysterious figure who was waiting for me, says.

I snap back to reality. If a bus had hit me before then, I might not have noticed. I’m lucky Carreon doesn’t want to kill me. Well, he does. I guess I’m lucky he didn’t.

“What’s the problem?” I ask with low-effort fake innocence to torture him.

“You know the problem. I said I’d swing you a few tickets to get my phone back but you couldn’t bring Dream. You said you were bringing a side piece.”

“Yes.”

Carreon’s irate. He jumps up and down, pointing toward the door where Dream walks through. “She’s right there!”

“Yes, Carreon. I lied to you to get the tickets.”

Carreon smacks the back of his neck in disbelief. He meets my eyes and shrugs about five times before finding the right words. “What did I do to you?”

“You can call me bad karma for everyone who couldn’t get back at you.”

He steps forward, angry.

I raise my hand to stop him. “Now, Carreon. Dream also knows who got her the ticket,” I lie. “You wouldn’t want to upset her by messing up her date’s outfit, would you?”

“No,” he said. “No, especially not tonight.”

Why tonight? Doesn’t matter. I’ll go with it. “Yes, Carreon, especially not tonight. Meet me back here after the show. I want to tell you something, and I’ll give you your phone back then.” With that, I turn on my heel like I’m the boss in a movie.

“Wait—hey, why can’t you tell me now?”

“Because I have a lady waiting for me.” I don’t look back as he whines.

Dream is outside the auditorium doors. She speaks with someone who’s probably famous. Their back is to me. The lounge area outside the stadium has an all-red carpet. Large glass windows show the city life and allow the moonlight inside. It glows on the circular bar taking up much of the space. A server in a black tie and white shirt mixes a drink to make something light green for a lady in a red dress. She doesn’t look as good as Dream. Not her fault—no one does.

I walk toward Dream and give her a small wave in greeting. She waves back. The person she speaks with turns around. It’s Ivan, cousin to the Heirs. Ivan, with his extra eyes on his chin and forehead that never stop moving. They judge every inch of me. His necklace—maybe a dozen blinking stolen eyes bound together by something sticky—blinks twice before locking onto my face.

Ivan, known for stealing someone’s eyeballs and adding them to his collection for a first impression if they dare look him in the eye. Ivan, known for stealing someone’s eyeballs for a first impression if they dared to not look him in the eye. A horrible catch-22.

I’m still some distance away. I can pick my poison. My eyes dance to take in every detail of him, trying to determine where to look. The eye on his forehead and the eye on his chin consider me, going up then down. He wears a large furry coat despite the temperature in the lounge area being cool, not cold. Maybe he’s sick. He looks sick.

His gray skin shivers as he adjusts his jacket. Ivan doesn’t bother wearing attire for the occasion. He looks like he’s going for a hunt and wants to blend in with the tree bark. His signature belt of gold pouches hangs at his hips. Everyone jokes that he wears them to weigh himself down. Otherwise, a gust of wind would whisk him away. Even under the pressure of the moment, I chuckle at the thought. No one tells this joke in front of him.

His hair is long but thinning and reminds me of a witch from a children’s cartoon. The ugly version. The kind that tricked children into her house and roasted them alive, mumbling spells the whole time, speaking in a voice that sounds like hisses.

I’m too close. I have to pick something to look at. The eyes on his necklace bounce up and down, judging me, then bulge wide and interested. I choose to look in his eyes. If I’m going to have my eyes plucked out, I’ll have to do it man to man.

Our eyes meet.

I extend my hand for him to shake.

“Uncle Ivan,” Dream says with the cheer and veracity of someone who did not know or notice that her “Uncle Ivan” is insane. Dream’s lack of knowledge of the state of the Heirs and their ilk knows no bounds. “This is my very”—she stops and shoots me a childish smile after biting her lip—“good friend, Velli.”

He shakes my hand. It’s a flimsy handshake, and his fingers tap against my skin. Doesn’t matter, better than having my eyeballs plucked out.

“Hello,” I say. “Dream speaks highly of you.”

She doesn’t. I hate when she talks about the Heirs, so she doesn’t bring them up around me.

“Hello.” His voice is as raspy as the witch he resembles. He swings his hand through the air and points his long fingernails at Dream. “Oh, is that Dream? I thought that was Rose with half her legs chopped off and shoes glued to her stubs. Because she’s so tiny, y’know.” He laughs at his own weird joke. His black gums reveal themselves, and his whole body shakes with mirth.

Dream playfully punches him. The room flinches with the strike. The bartender stops pouring his drink and steps away from the counter. An older couple holds on tight to their glasses, and a father steps in front of his son. We all wait for Ivan’s approval, any sign that his rage won’t be unleashed on the rest of us. Ivan laughs, and the room breathes.

“She might be short, but she’s tough,” I say. “Isn’t she…? Sorry, how exactly do you address an Heir?”

“The handshake is fine,” he says with every eye locked on me. “Velli, are you the one who bought tickets for Dream… and you to be here?”

Here comes the fun part. He will squirm on the inside.

“No, ha ha, I’m not sure I could ever afford that. A friend of mine gave me tickets.”

Ivan raises his eyebrow, and every eye on his head and necklace dances, searching the room. It makes my skin crawl, but I’m sure not to show it.

“Oh, a friend? Who do you know here?” He steps back and, with a wave of his hand, points to the crowd.

“Well, you’ll have to forgive me, but he made me promise not to tell anyone. I told him I was bringing Dream, and—”

“He knew you were bringing Dream?” The attempt to hide his anger is pitiful.

“Yeah, he initially thought I would buy a ticket for myself, but then I said I have a date. He asked who, and I said Dream Tower. She loves any excuse to dress up.”

Dream shrugs, smiles, and relaxes in oblivious ecstasy.

“After,” I say. “I debated the price with him for a bit, and he agreed.”

“Hmm.” Ivan smiles, only showing half the teeth in his mouth. “A ‘he,’ you said.” Ivan contemplates. “Well, I hope you enjoy your night. I have to handle some arrangements.” He doesn’t wait for us to acknowledge his departure. He leaves, heading away from the auditorium.

“It was nice meeting you, Ivan!” I call out to him, trying to sound genuine.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be here,” Dream says.

“You’re supposed to be right next to me, Dream.”

I’m proud of myself for the line, and apparently, so is Dream because she interlocks her arm with mine. I try not to act too excited.

My head whips. My body collapses. A buzzing follows. Everything’s blurry and flashes by me. Dream’s above me, and she looks at me pitifully, scared for me. Someone knocked me down. It was Ivan.

Look in Dream’s eye, Velli. Something is wrong with you to your deformed core. She sees it. The romance, the suits, the carriage, none of that can hide it.

“You call me Heir Ivan!” Ivan yells. “Not Ivan, it’s Heir Ivan! Do you hear me?” All of his eyes are red. He’s on the verge of tears. The eyes on his necklace rattle as he beats his chest. He leans forward, furious.

Dream yells back at him. She swears, flails her arms, and gets in his face. Her anger outdoes his. She presses forward, and Ivan leans back. He’s satisfied, though. His eyes dart left and right. The room is silent and afraid of him. They’re all quiet, and that makes him happy. He slinks backward and squeezes his neck into his shoulders like a sheepish kid who got caught stealing candy.

Look at her, Velli. Yeah, she’s flailing her arms and screaming for you, but that’s because she’s embarrassed. Embarrassed to have to be seen with someone like you.

No, she’s—

Enough, Velli.

It is what it is.

I am what I am.

I live how I live.

Right, Velli? And how you live is always beneath them.