Story: The One You're With - part 1

The One You're With

by Varian Milagro

Author's note: The ending to this story eluded me for a long time, but I am happy with the what I eventually came up with. I'm not so happy with the title and reserve the right to change it at a later date. If you have an idea for a different one, feel free to post it in the comments or shoot me an email at varian.milagro@gmail.com. FYI, the story is completely written and as edited as it is ever going to get. I'll post the next parts (there's seven of them) in the coming days.

Part 1

"Here, these are for you." Gabi held out a pack of cigarettes. She wore a tight leather skirt and a silky black blouse that showed more than it hid. Her makeup was dark and heavy, giving her a rebellious appearance. Her blonde, shoulder length hair was streaked with temporary red highlights. Everything about tonight’s look was temporary. By day she sold tickets to various Vegas shows at the MGM casino and by night she was typically in bed by ten. Tonight, though, she wanted to party and maybe even get laid.

"I'm not holding those for you,” Rachel said. “I told you not to buy them in the first place.”

"I have my own.” Gabi held up a second pack. It was different from the one she was offering her sister. Those had Marlboro Lights written on the side, The pack she was opening were shorter and had a picture of a camel on them. 

Rachel snatched the pack of Marlboros out of her sister's hand. “You’re taking this bad girl thing way too far. Smoking kills, you know.” She was dressed much more conservatively than her sister. She’d refused a "bad girl" makeover and had opted for a pair of comfortable black jeans and a paisley blouse. She had spent a decent amount of time on her shoulder-length auburn hair, giving it some decent curls. Normally, she put it in a ponytail and forgot about it.

“Oh my god, for like the millionth time I am not going to start smoking.” She stuck a cigarette in her mouth.

“You’re not actually going to light that are you?” 

“It helps with the smell. It’s very smoky in there.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Rachel shook her head slowly. “Because you’re surrounded by smoke you’re going to breath in even more? On what planet does that make sense?”

“I’m not going to take the smoke into my lungs, just my mouth. It makes all the secondhand smoke way more tolerable. Trust me, it works.”

“Yeah, I’m not doing that.” Rachel tossed the pack onto the dash. 

Gabi grabbed it and thrust it back into her sister’s hand. “You can’t leave it up there. Some drunk having a nicotine fit will break a window to steal them.”

Rachel opened the glove compartment only to find it stuffed to capacity with random crap. She rolled her eyes. “Do you at least have room in your trunk?”

“Oh my god, just put them in your purse. Along with these.” Gabi held up a strip of four condoms wrapped in purple plastic.

"Maybe it would be better if we went home," Rachel said as she stared at the contraceptives. "We could open a bottle of wine and watch some TV with Paige." Rachel’s daughter was staying with her grandparents for the evening. Technically, Rita was Paige’s step-grandmother, but had been for the last fifteen years. Despite only being the second time that Paige had met the woman, they got along pretty well. Apparently Rita intended to spend the evening teaching her granddaughter how to play MahJong.

"This will be a lot more fun than watching Gilmore Girls...again." 

“You could have at least picked somewhere closer to Dad’s. Why drive all the way out into the desert to a place full of smoke and bikers.” Rachel pointed at the row of Harley Davidsons parked near the front entrance of the Rusty Nail tavern. 

Gabi rolled her eyes. “For the thousandth time. It’s about getting out of your comfort zone. It’s about acting ‘as if’. If a guy asks about the cigarettes you say that you’re quitting and you keep them on you to test yourself. It’s an act of will to have the smokes and not give into temptation. If the guy doesn't like smokers he’ll like that you quit. If he does smoke he’ll be impressed with your willpower. You win either way. If nothing else it can be something to talk about.”

“You’ve given this way too much thought.” Rachel considered snatching the car keys from her sister and driving back to her dad’s. Not that she wanted to spend the evening with him; he’d be asleep by this time anyway. Learning Mahjong didn’t hold much interest for her either, but it was better than being leered at by a bar full of bikers, or even worse, being completely ignored. “Can we at least go somewhere a little more reputable?”

“This place is perfect. It’s full of red-blooded alpha types that will make you forget all about that two timing ‘nice’ guy that you were married to. It’s good that it’s far from home. That way there’s no chance of running into someone from this place in the future.” When she saw that her sister still wasn’t convinced she continued. “You can be whoever you want in there and tomorrow you can pretend that it never happened. Personally I’m hoping to wake up next to a muscular hunk that fucked me silly all night long.”

Rachel glanced at her bare left ring finger. There was still an indentation where her wedding band had lived for the last twenty years. “One drink and then we go.” She dropped the cigarettes and condoms into her black leather purse. 

Gabi gritted her teeth for several seconds. As her jaw unclenched she said, “One drink, but on the following condition: If someone chats you up and he’s halfway interesting you have to give him an honest chance.”

“Fine, whatever.”

As soon as they stepped out of the car they were hit with a wall of heat. Despite the sun having set, it was still over a hundred degrees outside. She never understood why people would choose to live in a desert. It could get quite warm during the summers in her hometown of Minneapolis, but nowhere near as hot as Las Vegas, not even close. If your AC quit working in Minnesota it was annoying, not life threatening.

Once inside smoke stung her eyes and the music blaring throughout the place hurt her ears. It was the kind of music her ex-husband had called southern fried rock, neither of them having been much of a fan. A dozen pairs of eyes, all belonging to men, locked on the ladies. Several looked away quickly having decided that the new meat wasn’t up to their standards or worth pissing off their significant other by pursuing, while several lingered. She certainly understood why they were looking at her sister. While Gabi was a little overweight it only seemed to enhance her looks. She was curvy and busty and still under thirty for another eleven months. Rachel was a runner and looked fit enough to run a marathon despite being 18 months shy of her fortieth birthday. Unfortunately she lacked the kind of curves that drew a most men's lustful gaze.

Most of the men looked like they were either on probation or hiding out from the law. The owners of the motorcycles out front were all sitting in a group toward the back of the bar. They all wore the same large patch on their backs; a muscular man with a jackal's head below the words, “The Lords of Chaos”. There were four types of women in the place, the ones serving drinks, the ones who were with the biker gang, ones who looked like they too had just been released from prison and those who were also on the clock, but made their money on their backs. The men had the ladies outnumbered three to one. 

Rachel pulled free from her sister. She trotted toward the bar, hoping to get their drinks ordered before anyone offered to buy her one and proved interesting enough that she’d have to spend time talking to him as part of her agreement. She wanted nothing more than to get out of the smoke-filled room and on her way back to her dad’s place.

She kicked herself mentally for letting her sister talk her into going out in the first place. It had a lot to do with seeing her ex-husband’s wedding announcement on Facebook. They’d been divorced for less than a year and the woman he was marrying wasn’t even the one he’d had the affair with. This was a whole new woman, even younger than the initial homewrecker. It pained her to realize that despite promising herself otherwise, she’d married someone like her father. She’d thought that Ryan was different and he’d seem that way for most of their two decade long marriage. But he’d turned out to be exactly like her father. 

Her dad had left Rachel’s mom for a younger woman. When she was eight-years old he’d had an affair with a woman in Vegas, a woman nearly half his age named Amelia. Gabi was the result. Rachel had hated her half-sister for the first nine years of her life. When they finally met at Rachel’s high school graduation, she’d had a hard time hating the precocious fourth grader. By that time their dad had moved on to wife number three, Yolanda. Rachel found that she had a hard time holding a grudge against a nine-year old girl who, like herself, had her family torn asunder by their father’s infidelity.

The only reason she was even in Nevada was because their dad was dying and Gabi had convinced her that if he died and she hadn’t at least said goodbye that she’d regret it in the years to come. So she packed up her daughter, took a week off from her job at Premier Bank and flew out to Las Vegas.

As the bartender served a large man with the Lords of Chaos patch on the back of his jacket she hoped that the place had a halfway decent chardonnay, but she feared that if they did carry wine it was probably poured from a cardboard box. She wasn’t a wine snob by any means, but she had some taste. Whatever she ended up getting, she planned on drinking it quickly so she could get back on the road while the car’s engine was still warm.

“Two boilermakers,” Gabi shouted as the bartender handed the biker his change. She shot her sister a satisfied smile when the bartender turned and proceeded to make the drinks.

“Need a light?” a man said to Gabi. He was a couple of inches taller than her and had an average build. He reminded Rachel of the tow truck driver who’d helped her with a flat tire last year. There was another man with him, he was a little taller and quite drunk. 

“You’re so sweet.” Gabi traced her fingers over the man’s hand as he lit her cigarette. 

“I’m Bill and he’s Larry. What are your names?” 

The drunk one stared at Rachel intently. She guessed that he was close to her age which was a whole lot closer to forty than she liked.

“Thanks, Bill,” Gabi said as she blew out a bit of un-inhaled smoke. “I’m Gabi and this is my sister, Rachel.”

Rachel really didn’t want Larry or anyone else in the bar to know her name, but now wasn’t the time to chastise her sister. The bartender returned a few seconds later with their drinks. He looked between Rachel and Gabi. There was no way that Rachel was going to pay. If Gabi wanted boilermakers she could darn well pay for them herself.

“Seventeen fifty, ladies,” the bartender said.

Gabi flashed Bill a smile.

Bill slapped a twenty on the bar. “We got you covered. We have a table; want to share it with us?”

“My sister just got divorced and she needs a sympathetic ear right now, but after we have a few drinks I’m sure that we’ll both be ready to party.”  Gabi picked up her drink and took a sip “Yummy, thank you.”

“We’re sitting at the table next to the restroom,” Larry said. “Let us know if you need anything.” 

“Will do. Toodles.” Gabi waved bye-bye at them and then led her sister to one of the few free tables in the corner.

The wall behind their table was covered with a variety of playbills from bands that Rachel had never heard of before, names like The Pile Drivers, Manic Pixie Dream Slut, Blood Feud and Death Naught, which she found strange since she didn’t see a stage in the place. The other wall was dedicated to a wide assortment of hubcaps, some looking like they were from classic cars of the fifties and others that looked so new that they might have been pulled from vehicles still parked out front. 

The table itself was clear of debris, but hardly clean. The surface looked like years of spilled drinks, dirt and general grime had formed into a revolting veneer.

“That’s not very nice. Bill is not your type and his friend is already three sheets to the wind,” Rachel said as they sat. 

“Shh. Those two will keep us in free drinks all night if we play it right.”

“I don’t find either of them interesting so once I finish this we’ll be leaving.” Rachel sniffed her drink before taking a small sip. She did little to hide her disgust. She wasn’t a big fan of whiskey or beer and especially not the two of them combined.

“There are lots of fish in this pond. Give it an honest chance.” Gabi tapped her cigarette on the edge of an ashtray in the center of the table. It was remarkably clean, but looked like most people just used the tavern’s floor as an ashtray, which probably hadn’t been swept in over a month.

“Why did you order us these drinks, why not some wine?” Rachel tried to take a larger gulp of her drink, but the taste made it difficult to do without gagging. As she set her glass down she wondered if she’d be able to lift it again or if the glass would bond with the tacky surface of the table. On the bright side, if the glass became stuck to the table she could hardly be expected to finish it.

“I was hoping a boilermaker would slow you down. You could probably finish off a glass of wine in a couple of minutes, even the vinegar they serve here.”

Gabi nursed her boilermaker too, but seemed to enjoy it far more than her sister. She slowly smoked the cigarette as well, taking a tiny drag every minute or so and then letting the cigarette smolder in the ashtray in the meantime. Rachel found it more than a little annoying. Smoke was everywhere and it made it hard to breathe. Having a cigarette burning a few feet from her face only made it worse. That her sister was only pretending to smoke was just salt in the wound.

They didn’t talk much. Rachel wasn’t in the mood, she just wanted to finish her drink and leave; they could talk on the way home. Gabi was too busy checking out all the men in the bar to offer up much in the way of conversation. After about ten minutes, Gabi announced that she needed to use the bathroom. Rachel offered to join her, but was refused.

“Some guys like their prey isolated before they’re willing to pounce,” Gabi said as she slung her purse over her shoulder. 

As her sister wound her way through the crowd to get to the lavatory, Rachel scanned the room, checking out the men. She couldn’t imagine dating anyone who frequented a dive bar like the Rusty Nail. Certainly not the bikers who looked like they showered about as often as they had their hair cut. Not the ex-cons or those who were certainly criminals, but had somehow evaded prison so far. The others were either blue-collar workers or way too young or old for her. She wanted a civilized man who was well read, enjoyed the arts and could hold a conversation about world events. Not that her sister’s idea of having a one night stand with a man who knew how to rock a woman’s world was wholly unpleasant. She just wasn’t ready to be with another man, not yet. Maybe in another six months or so. She was relieved and also a little disappointed that no one tried to pounce on her while her sister was away.

When Gabi exited the bathroom Bill spotted her and leapt to his feet. They were too far away for Rachel to hear the conversation, but the expressions on their faces told her everything. Gabi was smiling as she talked to Bill which meant that she was still stringing him along, hoping he’d buy another round of drinks in case they stayed after finishing their first. His smile diminished as she spoke, but didn’t fade entirely which meant that he thought he still had a chance. He sat back down and Gabi resumed her journey back to her own table.

Before she took more than ten steps a man appeared at her side. Rachel had watched her sister the entire time and one second the guy wasn’t there and the next he was standing right next to her, close enough that his face was only a few inches from her ear, his mouth moving rapidly. Gabi froze, her face slack, eyes staring straight ahead. She stood so absolutely still, that It was like time had stopped for her.

Rachel was sure the man hadn’t been in the tavern earlier; she would have noticed him for sure. He was entirely out-of-place. He was in his fifties and looked like he’d just come from a banker convention. She should know, she was the Director of Loan Originations at a regional bank in Minnesota and this guy was dressed just like all the other men in senior management.

The man spoke to Gabi for several seconds. When his lips stopped moving she came back to life, like someone had hit the play button. His eyes followed her with a keen interest as she made a quick 180 and then walked straight to Bill’s table. A smile formed on the man’s face that was at least 70% sneer.

For a moment Rachel wondered why Gabi had decided to sit at Bill’s table, but then remembered that he was the reason they were here. Gabi had met him through Tinder and this was their first date. Rachel had come along for moral support in case the date turned out to be a bust. She shook her head, wondering where that new memory had come from. What was in that boilermaker? Gabi didn't know Bill through Tinder; she didn’t know him at all.

The man in the suit jacket and tie whipped around, his eyes locking on Rachel. The sneer had changed to a scowl. He glared at Rachel for several seconds before his expression changed once again, this time a mix of curiosity and joy. He winked at her and then vanished.

Rachel didn't know what freaked her out more, a middle aged man appearing and disappearing in plain sight, the lack of reaction from anyone else in the vicinity or the warring memories of her sister and the man named Bill. She knew which memories were real, just as she knew that if she were to push her drink off the table that it would fall to the floor and not hover in place or rise to the ceiling. Yet, Gabi acted in a manner in line with the new memories. At the moment she was laughing at something Bill had said, her hand laying gently on his forearm, a sure sign that she was into him. What the fuck was going on?

“I hate teases.” 

"What?" Rachel spun around in her chair. The banker was visible again and standing next to her table. Her head felt like it was filled with marshmallows. Nothing was making sense.

"You heard me, but more importantly you have the sight." He smiled like he was greeting an old friend.

“How did you do that?” After a moment she realized that she didn’t care how the man could make himself disappear. “What did you do to my sister? Why do I think that she’s on a date with Bill? You did that, didn’t you?” Rachel forced herself to stay calm. Shouting or cursing rarely solved anything, other than making yourself look foolish.

"You think your sister is on a date because she is. Like I said, I hate it when people tease others, especially for something as trivial as a free beverage.” The man plopped down in the chair that Gabi had sat in. 

Rachel noticed that her sister’s boilermaker was gone. She looked over at Bill’s table to see the drink sitting in front of Gabi, still a little over half full. She recalled making a plan on the way over to the Rusty Nail. Gabi would have one drink with him. If his real self didn’t match up to his online profile or if he was an obnoxious loser, she would drink quickly and then they’d go back to their dad’s place and watch Gilmore Girls with Paige. If she liked him then she’d take her time and eventually send her sister a text and then Rachel would drive home alone. Of course none of that was real. Gabi hadn’t met Bill on Tinder. She’d met him a few minutes ago when he’d offered to light her cigarette. Was she going insane? 

“You’re not insane and it is very much real,” the man said. “I’m Terrance and I didn’t like how your sister was leading Bill along. If she’s going to let him buy her drinks she should at least talk to him for a few minutes, don’t you think?” 

“How? How do you know her name? What did you say to her just then?”

“The simplest answer is that I can change what you refer to as reality. A better question would be why do you remember that your sister didn’t have a date with Bill. The answer to that would be that you have the sight, as I mentioned earlier. He waved a hand over the table. A tall glass filled with a thick reddish liquid appeared on the table in front of him. She hoped that it was a Bloody Mary and not actual blood. “You were even able to see me, which is no small thing when I don’t wish to be seen. I’m impressed and that’s why we're talking. Now, I have to decide what to do with you.”

“Why don’t you leave us alone? We didn’t do anything to you. I’ll pay Bill for the drinks he purchased. Would that make everything alright?”

“Sorry, but messing with humans is kind of a hobby of mine and you have caught my attention. Had I not noticed you snooping, I would have made the change to your sister and called it a night, for this place at least.” He took a sip of his drink and raised his eyebrows in approval of the taste. 

“What are you going to do to me?” Rachel trembled. She couldn’t remember feeling so afraid, not in a long time.

“You don’t have to be afraid. I am not going to hurt you. I am going to make your life better, maybe not by your current perspective, but as luck would have it, I can change that too.” 

“But what if I don’t want it changed? Don’t I get a voice in this?”

“Is your life so great that it cannot do with a little change? A little bit of spice? You can view me as a threat or an opportunity. It is your choice.” He pointed at her boilermaker. “Take your drink for example. You do not care for the taste of beer. That it is evident to anyone paying attention, not just someone with the ability to read minds."

Rachel's face brightened slightly as she raised her glass. “Can you turn this into a decent chardonnay?" 

"I could, but then I'd have to change your drink all night long or remake this tavern into the kind of place that serves the wine you prefer. Much easier the other way around. As Stephen Stills sang, 'if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you’re with’."

Rachel grabbed the edge of the table for balance as a wave of vertigo traveled through her head, making her feel a bit wobbly.

"A toast.” He lifted his drink. “To new discoveries." 

Rachel tapped her beer mug against his tumbler and then took a sip of her boilermaker. The sip became a long pull. Her taste buds relishing the dark bitterness of the beer mixed with the sharpness of the whiskey. 

“Go easy on that. Your deal with Gabi still stands. If you meet an interesting man before you finish the drink you have to give him an honest chance. If you finish that drink before anyone else approaches you, you’ll be stuck with me and be warned, I like to play with my food.”

Rachel paused for a moment before letting the liquid that was still in her mouth slide back into the glass. 

“Now to get started. To warm up and show you what a good guy I am, I am going to do you a favor and then I’ll do one for your sister. After that I will do myself a favor or two.” He looked toward Gabi’s table. She had a new drink and a freshly lit cigarette. “I gather that you don’t approve of your sister pretending to be a smoker. Makes her look kind of silly, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Before Rachel could reply Terrance motioned with his hand in a similar way as when he’d made his drink appear.

“Take a look.”

Rachel watched as her sister took another puff on her cigarette. This time she sucked on it for a couple of seconds and then blew out a long stream of smoke. She definitely wasn't pretending to smoke any longer. Even the way she held the cigarette had changed. It looked completely natural between her fingers, like it belonged there. 

“How is that better?” Rachel didn’t like the idea of his sister being a smoker, but she had to admit that she looked less foolish now. New memories of Gabi smoking in the past filled her mind. In this new reality, her sister had started smoking just out of high school. Both Rachel and Gabi’s mom had been quite upset, but as Gabi had pointed out at the time, she was over 18 and could do what she wanted. Even knowing the new memories were fake, Rachel found them eerily compelling.

"Fake isn't the right word." Terrance said. "They're true for this reality. The memories you have of your sister not being a smoker are technically the false memories."

“How is turning my sister into a smoker doing me a favor?” Rachel snapped. “That’s worse than pretending!”

Terrance’s face grew dark again. “Don’t be ungrateful. It’s rude and I hate rude.”

Rachel realized that she was on dangerous ground. This man could literally do anything to her and her sister. There were lots of things much worse than being a smoker. Wasn’t that true of life in general? Things could always be worse. Wasn’t it better to look on the bright side and count your blessings than grumble and complain? Whining about your situation did little to improve things she'd always found.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” Trying very hard not to sound sarcastic, she added, "Thank you." 

“Apology accepted.” His smile had returned, much to Rachel’s relief. “Not it is time for Gabi’s favor.” 

"Please don’t change her anymore.” Rachel placed her hands together in front of her chest like she was praying. “I beg you."

“You haven’t even seen what I’m going to do. Give it a chance.” Once again he made a wave with one hand.

This time it was Bill who changed. It was like watching the Hulk from the Marvel movies transform right before her eyes. Only he wasn't becoming green and he wasn't growing to 9 feet in height. He only went from a wiry five-ten to a beefy six-foot two. His posture changed too. It was more confident, like it was natural being the biggest guy in a room and therefore he had little to prove.

“She always had a thing for large, confident men,” Rachel said quietly.

“Exactly!” Terrance beamed like a school teacher when the particularly slow student finally got an answer correct. He made another motion with his hand. “And now a favor for Bill.”

This time Gabi changed. Over the course of a couple of seconds she lost at least 20 pounds. Her hair grew a little longer and changed color to a golden coppery red. Rachel was a little disappointed that her sister’s breasts stayed as large as ever. She hated herself for being jealous of her half-sister’s curves, but it didn’t change the fact. New memories of why Gabi was in better shape entered her brain.

“You made her a dancer for real!” Rachel’s sister was no longer selling tickets at the MGM. She was a dancer in Vegas! The Show at Planet Hollywood. “Gabi always wanted to be a dancer. She took lessons for years.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know." 

“On behalf of my sister and Bill, thank you.”

“You are rather pleasant to work with,” he said. “The last couple of people were so annoying. One of them isn't human anymore. The other is no longer animate." His eyes narrowed in thought. “I think that I’m going to try something different with you.”

“You’ve given us so much already, you really don’t need to do anything more,” Rachel tried to keep her mind focused on being thankful, knowing that he could read her thoughts.

“That is besides the point,” Terrance said with a smile. “Empty your purse please. I want to see what I’m working with.”

“Why? Don’t you already know everything about me?”

His face darkened. “Don’t make me ask again.”

Rachel upended her purse. In addition to the condoms and cigarettes that Gabi had given her,  a travel size facial tissue, tampon, wallet, car keys, phone, hair brush, several loose coins and a variety of make up items spilled across the small table.

“Cigarettes? You don’t strike me as the type. You look more like a vegan smoothie and kale salad kind of woman.”

“Those aren’t mine. I don’t smoke. I’m not a tease.” Rachel really didn’t want Terrance to make her smoker like he’d done to Gabi.

“I see that you decided to go against your sister’s advice of claiming that you’re trying to quit. Not an unreasonable choice.” He paused for a moment, thoughtfully. “I probably would’ve given you the cravings of a heavy smoker had you made that claim. Still, that begs the question, whose are they?” He gave Rachel a full second to respond before continuing. “Your sister has cigarettes of her own. A different brand I noticed, so they obviously aren’t hers. Why would you have cigarettes with you if they don’t belong to either of you?”

He waited longer this time for a response, but Rachel had no idea what she should say. He clearly knew the truth and was toying with her. What answer could she give to extricate herself from the situation?

His face brightened, like he’d just had an epiphany. “I know, they belong to your daughter, Paige. It’s the only logical conclusion. You confiscated them from her just before departing tonight and that’s why they are in your purse.”

“No! They’re not hers. They’re mine.” Rachel snatched the pack off the table and held them close to her chest. “Please don’t do anything to my daughter.”

Terrance’s jaw clenched. “If there is one thing I cannot stand, it is a liar. Teases annoy me, but I absolutely detest liars. The cigarettes cannot be yours and not yours. Were you lying before or are you lying now?” His voice lowered in volume and pitch until it resembled a growl. “Which is it?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie. They’re mine.”

“Apology accepted, besides, your daughter isn't here, which makes changing her into a smoker a bit problematic.” He flicked his wrist and several new items appeared on the table, a lighter, a box of breath mints and a small bottle of extra strength Febreze, original scent.

Rachel was hit with a wave of dizziness and a burning need deep within her lungs. 

She knew instinctively that satisfaction was literally in the palm of her hands. A couple of puffs would not only quell her new cravings, but would help relieve some of the stress she was under. The temptation was nearly impossible to resist, especially being surrounded by so many other smokers. The smell she’d found disgusting a few moments ago had changed into a siren’s call.

“Now, because you were quick to correct your story I am going to reward you. Instead of quitting yesterday, you quit eighteen years ago.”

The lighter disappeared as did the air freshener and Rachel’s cravings faded away until they were practically nonexistent. She knew that if she lit a cigarette that she’d enjoy it, but the physical need was gone. 

“But you did lie to me and I cannot simply let that slide.”

A red light lit up in the upper left corner of her phone, indicating that she had a new message. Nothing else changed that she could determine. What had Terrance done, she wondered. As she reached for her phone, new memories slammed into her mind, her first puff of a cigarette at a sleepover at Jessica Stanley’s house, her second ever cigarette shared with her second ever boyfriend, Brandon Taylor, her mom catching her and then grounding her for a full week. 

Rachel looked at the pack in her hand with new eyes. They were like a toxic relationship, a true love/hate kind of thing. She had many fond memories of her time as a smoker and even knowing that they were destroying her life she couldn’t stay away from them back then. It was for her daughter’s sake that she’d finally quit. The day she’d discovered that she was pregnant was the day she’d smoked her last cigarette. The pack in her hands was an impulse buy when she’d discovered her husband’s infidelity. She’d managed to resist the urge to start smoking, but hadn’t gotten around to throwing them away just yet. 

“Can you pick someone else to do favors for?” she said as she dropped the pack into her empty purse.

“But I’m going to make you happy. You aren’t very happy right now, are you?”

“Other than my divorce my life couldn’t be better,” Rachel said, her chin held high.

“But that’s hardly true now is it? Think about it again. Are you really happy? What do you want in your life?”

Thoughts and emotions bombarded her, almost all of them negative. She resented the management team at the bank. She’d been passed over for a promotion to vice president more than once because her business degree wasn’t from a top-tier college. It was like a stain on her record. She might as well have spent time in prison. The money was good, but not great, especially now that she would be on a single income and her daughter about to go to college herself. Stanford wasn’t cheap and since Paige was now eighteen there wouldn’t be any child support. Her ex-husband had promised to help out with tuition, but she had a strong feeling that he wasn’t going to follow through.

She didn’t get to see nearly enough of her daughter. Between the job and all of Paige’s responsibilities, school, homework, debate team, drill team, school government, it seemed like they barely ever spoke anymore. In a couple of months she would be living in California on the Stanford campus and then she wouldn’t see her daughter again until Thanksgiving. Instead of spending what little time left together, she was in a smokey tavern being supportive to her sister.

She wouldn’t even be in Nevada except for Gabi’s guilt trip. Their dad was a womanizing asshole and had abandoned too many women over the years: his ex-wives and his two daughters. Every ten years or so he left his wife for a younger model, leaving them to raise his kids on their own. Rachel’s mom had been replaced by Amelia, a Vegas showgirl and Gabi’s mom. She was then replaced by Yolanda when Gabi was six years old. His fourth and final wife was Rita, who’d managed to keep him for these last fifteen years. That he was pushing sixty when they’d married might have had something to do with it.

“See, I can fix all of that for you. No more stressing about rising up the company ladder. A closer relationship with Paige. Love in your life. A positive male role model in your life. You can have it all.”

“Do I even have a choice? You’re going to do what you want to me anyway.”

“You want a choice?” Terrance's eyes twinkled. “Tell you what, you can stay with me and we’ll work together to reshape your life until I’m satisfied that you are actually happy or you can take what’s behind door number 3.”

“Door number three?” Rachel’s mom had used that expression in the past and while she didn’t know its origin she’d come to understand that it meant a gamble, usually a risky one. She didn’t like the idea of Terrance messing with her life, but it was at least a known unknown. She had no idea what she’d be getting with this other option. “What will happen if I choose the other option?”

“Not going to say, but you’ll have an opportunity to gain a little more control over the changes that happen to your life.”

“Number three, I guess.” Rachel had a feeling that it was a trap, but she liked the idea of having some control, even if it was only a little.

“So be it,” Terrance said. “Remember your agreement with your sister. If you violate it, I will return immediately and continue what we started.” As soon as he finished speaking he disappeared.

The story continues with Part 2