Chapter One

"Stop pouting woman," he states, his light brown eyes staring into mine. A hint of amusement hits his face as he holds his cards close to his torso.

"Are you going to show me more of what you have done?" I ask and all I get in return is a smirk along with a dimple on his right cheek.

"In due time, my love." I roll my eyes as dramatically as I can. I smirk at my next play. I think I may lose because he seems to have good cards. He is most likely bluffing. The room is silent all but the faint sounds of his feet taping on the wooden floor.

Fate always deals the devil with the right cards. He fell from heaven and was given to hell. I sit before my devil, yet I know my hand is not acceptable for the game we are playing.

Should I bluff and see if he folds?

I ask myself while I glance at the matte black cards I hold in my hand. They are all horrible for the game we are playing. Whoever dealt this hand of cards gave me the worst luck. Looking back at it, I can't remember where they came from.

No, I can't fall into this game that would be too easy. I would rather wait for him to fade away like he normally does. Until I put him away, he will never leave my unconscious world. He will continue haunting me. My dreams used to help me, until I helped the wrong people all because of him. Then all my visions became nightmares, which I hate.

"Stop your pouting woman," he states as he stares intensely into my eyes, a hint of amusement crossing his face as he holds his cards close to him.

I was forbidden to do anything but ignore. To never speak of the gift bestowed upon me by my ancestors. My grandma who died when I was ten told me about it when my dreams kept giving me Deja vu. She never really explained the gift, only that it was no good.

"Are you going to show me more of what you have done?" I ask, he just grins, clearly not ready to give away what awful things he has done.

"In due time my love." As he says this I roll my eyes at him and peek at my hand to see if I have to fold.

The room is silent, aside from the faint sounds of his feet tapping against the carpeted floor and a breeze from a window that is opened up slightly that sounds like a whistle.

"Alicia, wake your ass up, you should already be getting ready for tonight!" Thema shouted as I lay in my smelly work clothes from today. I must have passed out, while she was talking. She must have let me fall asleep.

"Sorry, it's been a long day." I yawn out of exhaustion hoping that tiny cat nap saved me from the horrible dark circles that have formed from overworking myself. I don't sleep much, so I can ignore this curse. But the dreams are getting more interesting each one is cinematic art.

"Your Mama called," she says, handing over my phone. She calls almost every day to the point it's like I never left. She is a very caring kind of person, but sometimes I avoid her calls because she can call too much.

In the last few years since my split with my ex, I have found myself. But quite recently I have found him again thanks to the curse. My Mama doesn't know about it, she has never been someone to talk to about it. I didn't want her to assume I am crazy. She already tries to control my life.

My Mama constantly tells me that I wouldn't know myself truly until at least the age of thirty. I'm pretty sure that's half-bullshit, the only thing I do not know is why these types of dreams show up. I know a few things about myself like hating the color purple on me because I look sallow. I also hate being tardy. Which we are going to be if she doesn't let me get ready for tonight.

Thema is planning on going to the bar tonight, she is kindly letting me go with her. After the last few years of knowing each other, it is like we are sisters. We clicked in so many ways, our pasts linked us up. Thema is a tall, curvy dark-skinned woman with the most honest personality I have ever had the pleasure to endure. I still haven't told her about my curse. The feeling that no one would believe me is exhausting and unsettling.

After a long shift at the clinic and her long week at the club, we are ready to let loose and have some good old American fun. I have a feeling Fred is coming, which is Thema's newest boy toy.

My best friend doesn't label them ever as boyfriends. They are strictly for fun and when there is no fun left. Thema tosses them off like crumbs you get on your shirt from a granola bar.

"Alicia, you need to stop thirsting over that British man next door," my friend pleaded, begging me to stop looking out my window.

This is normally the time he would get home from work. He hasn't pulled into his driveway tonight. Sighing, I pout, currently disappointed all because he is the best distraction after my vivid dreams. I am being deprived of seeing my local eye candy. Closing the curtains, I turn to Thema.

She is currently sitting on the couch putting on a pair of natural lashes. She usually spends an hour on her make-up, before we go somewhere. I only wear mascara and chapstick most days. Until foundation companies start pumping out more inclusive shades that are not fifty shades of white then I will make a purchase.

Walking up to the curtains and noticing he is not there again. I turned to her as she is gluing down another lash.

"Thema, he is so attractive, Native American with a British accent, that is a rare breed of man," I explain to her and she rolls her eyes at me. She doesn't get my obsession with this mystery guy, I avoid Blade because of how incredibly awkward I am. He looks like he was sculpted by a god and well I am me. I resemble being crafted by shein.

My Mama is Indian, so I come from a pretty well-cultured family that has been modified over the years. My dad's side is mostly white, he abandoned us back in the late '90s. So I don't know much about my sperm donor. He did leave me a load of money, which I used to buy this house when I graduated college.

"I wish I could just talk to him," I say dragging my feet on the ground causing Thema to give me a dirty look.

"He was adopted and got double colonized. That is a double homicide, they took native lands and now they adopt native children. I thought it was tribal law for other natives who get put up for adoption. They are supposed to be given to others in the tribe. But rich white people have their ways of getting around things." She is fuming about this and I agree. His parents could have just wanted a baby and just got him. Maybe they had no preference at all. Somehow they can get what they want.

"All I know from my dad's side is that I am a little bit Polish,  He disappeared when I was like two years old. According to my Mama, he was connected to some bad people. That whole side of my family disappeared when I was ten after grandma died." I mutter as I take off my clothes. Picking them up I shove them in a hamper that is already full, so I push it down in hopes of it not spilling over.

My clothes reek like the animals I work with at the clinic. A dog came in today and he had been skunked, so I feel as though his scent has rubbed off on me. The original plan was for me to shower when I got home but I sat down and dozed off while Thema was talking.

My bathroom is a mess from getting ready this morning. Make-up and hair ties are scattered on my counter and thankfully this morning I remembered to unplug my curling iron. I can't wait to avoid putting it all away.

I undress and run into my bathroom to shower, not worrying about the mess because I will clean it up later. Laying down a floor towel so my floor doesn't get drenched and I can throw it in a hamper.

My best friend follows me there except she sits on the toilet and rants to me about the day she had, at the club she works at. Which is owned by the guy who runs the bar we are going to. His bars and clubs are futuristic-themed. They look like Avatar meets Tron. Super aesthetic and super colorful. Neon everything, honestly, they are works of neon art. Lines flood around the buildings most nights. The whole bar is surrounded by high-tech screens that show different settings the owners have designed.

"So Bruce was so ready to knock the lights out of the man with the fake money. Like what the hell man, why are you throwing your fake ass money at my girl Maria?" She says I shampoo my hair quickly, Bruce is similar to both sides of the Hulk. He is incredibly smart and a bodybuilder. He has many flaws, but he has been in love with Thema for as long as I can remember.

I dug my fingers into my scalp from not washing it for a couple of days, it feels nice. The water is lukewarm since I learned from my hairstylist that the temperature should protect my hair from any heat damage that could happen.

"Some days I want to quit but then I wouldn't be making thousands a week. Like Alicia, you went to college at fourteen, my best friend is a genius. You got a full ride in school due to your family ties and grades. Also, I think your mom did put up some money. You are more fortunate than others, college just isn't for me. You know what, I am going to go pick out your outfit for the bar. Maybe we can get you a nice-looking man to play with tonight." I go to say something and she cuts me off.

"Oh, Alicia if you ever want to make additional cash for the clinic. You know, Bruce adores the flow of cash girls as you bring in. Your light brown eyes with the thick lashes, your naturally tan body. Don't even get me started on your long-ass hair and gorgeous figure. You could easily become the hottest there," she says, walking out of the bathroom before I can even say anything. Honestly, I don't have the confidence to do what she does. As someone short as hell and if I were ever to go on stage, I would look like a middle school talent show contestant. Thema has had years and years of dance training and honestly, one day we all hope she opens up a studio.

Washing my body, rinsed out the conditioner, and then grabbed my towel. I cut off the shower and dry my body off as the steam fills the air. I go to step out making sure to step on my bath rug as I get out, no mess on the floor is my goal.

Racing to my bed as I notice the clock says 5 pm, if we don't get ready quick enough we are going to be extremely late.

I quickly put on the outfit she picked out for me, which is a short, royal blue dress, ankle boots, and a pair of hoop earrings. I have to go to my dresser for a pair of underwear. Thema hardly wears them herself. Easy access for her and Fred. Whoever she is with, they always do it like rabbits until she calls it quits when commitment enters the chat.

"Are we picking up Fred?" I ask, grabbing my car keys out of my vintage Chanel bag. I look over at her and she is glancing at the ceiling. I drive a 2016 Ford Explorer. It's not new and it is not old so it is perfect for me. It's silver and relatively basic, not really into cars, took one shop class back in high school with a sexist teacher who made the only two females clean up his office space and organize all his tools. It was honestly fun because we would get free hall passes to get our friends out of boring classes; and he would chill, drink his water bottles, and eat his healthy snacks. He was cool and all except for being super sexist.

"No, I don't think I want to see him anymore," she says, rolling her eyes, which now has me wondering what is going on with her.

"What did this one do?" I ask, already guessing the answer. Something to do with commitment, I bet.

Her forehead pockets up and she sighs.

"He wanted to make things more exclusive and started talking about marriage and for me to be his girlfriend. As if I want to marry a man." She opens her jaws and puts her finger in her mouth and pretends to gag. I lift an eyebrow at her expression.

"Gross, marriage, who wants that these days?" I sarcastically expect her to laugh, but all she does is agree.

"Right. Like I will bang them bitches, but no one will ever tie my sexy ass down, " she says confidently twirling her hair in her fingers. I always hear of men like her. We have all heard about them. But, watch someone hate her for saying and doing what typical male players do in society.

Thankfully there are women like this, it balances out. Also, no one has to get married. It's just a social standard. A girl can like sex too, I don't know why a lot of people pressure people into keeping their virginity. I one time went to a huge Catholic church with Thema, and men were talking about how all young women do is have sex. You bring up that men do it too and they say that is because we are temptresses. It was women who got them banned from the garden of Eden. I was raised partly in a Catholic church because of my stepdad. I like to use "step" when referring to him because he is the only dad I have ever known, but he is trash. I walk over to unlock and open my front door.

We walk to my car, clicking a button that is on my keychain. The door unlocks, and we get in. I push the key in and start the engine. We back out of the driveway and Thema puts on some music. Currently, our favorite female artist is Doja Cat. So she puts on "Ain't Shit". Thema's whole dad's side is of African descent, meaning she sings this song to the best of her ability while I do not say the n-word because it is not my place.

"That's not cheating if I wasn't with your ass-" we sing in harmony. She uses her hands to brush through her hair. She just got her braids out today and her growth is immaculate. A few rights and a left and we are at the bar. It's called 'The Bar of the Gods.'

"Babe it is masquerade night. Good thing I packed us some masks. Thankfully we are fully vaccinated, so we don't need to wear the other ones." She side-eyes me and I put it on. It matches my dress, so now I know why she had me wear it. We pull up to a parking lot right next to the club. No one ever parks here so the lot is pretty empty. We then go in through the back door. The evening air is cooling down and we get hit by the warm roaring atmosphere of the bar.

We shove our way through the crowded bar. By the time we make it to the bar, the bartender is making a mess of the drinks. But he gives us our usual. Mine is a Shirley Temple and Thema loves straight-up vodka shots. I turn on the barstool to look around, maybe someone I know is here tonight.

There isn't anyone in the first place that looks like a good time. I take a few sips of my Sherly Temple.

A fight breaks out behind me between two guys.

"Don't fucking touch my sister!" One says as I look over at the handsome man with brown eyes.

"That's enough boys, take it outside if you want to fight," Bruce yells from behind me.

"What are you doing here tonight?" Bruce asks, leaning on the bar counter.

"I am looking for a dance partner," I explain, and he points to a guy across the bar.

"What about him?" He asks giving me a few extra maraschino cherries and pointing to a man with his back turned.

"You know what, why not?" I grab my purse and wrap it around me, ready to go out and find myself, someone, to mingle with.

The crowd of people overwhelms me so I run to the bathroom to go and give myself a little pep talk.

Opening the door to the bathroom thankfully no one is in there. Walking up to the mirror I notice my features. My light brown eyes that I must have inherited from my dad's side. But then the real panic set in. What if he is like...

"Not every man you date is going to be a serial killer, who still hasn't been convicted or caught. Not every man is going to show up in your dreams and show you his acts of crime." I whisper to myself in the mirror.

Who am I kidding, I am insane.

I have had dreams like this long before him, they were all in the future though not of someone's past.

Quickly took my mask off and splashed water all over my face not having to avoid my waterproof mascara.

"Get back out there," I encourage myself as I put my mask back on.

I can do this...