Authors: Kate Evangelista
Savor
Savor
Kate Evangelista
ISBN: 978-1-939173-65-2
E-ISBN: 978-1-939173-66-9
© Copyright Kate Evangelista 2013. All rights reserved
Cover Art: Lilyana Sanches
Editor: Joceline Farrah
Layout/Typesetting: jimandzetta.com
Crescent Moon Press
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Box 269
Middletown, NJ 07748
Ebooks/Books are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an
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All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner
whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in
critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any
resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely
coincidental.
Crescent Moon Press electronic publication/print publication: December 2013
“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here.
I’m mad. You’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”
― Lewis Carroll,
Alice in Wonderland
Chapter One
Sacrifice
I stepped out of the cab, camera in hand, and faced Sacrifice. The newly opened club’s
name flashed in neon lights above the line of restless people that stretched around the block.
They all waited to get in. Didn’t they have anything better to do on a Friday night? Shaking
my head, I zipped my jacket closed against the pre-winter cold.
The spiked heel of my boots crunched against the blacktop as I bypassed the line toward
the bouncer guarding the velvet rope. My chin-length black hair flapped in the breeze. My
breath materialized in front of me. How the scantily clad patrons in line withstood the bite in the air was beyond me.
Leaving my camera to hang around my neck, I stuffed my hands inside my pockets and
reached for my press pass. My final assignment for the Daily Gossip—an unfortunate name
for a college paper—involved taking pictures of the club. I expected Silvia, the features writer, to be inside already.
I flashed my pass, but the bouncer stared at my face instead. I knew what he was gawking
at. Reaching up, I ran my fingers over the black eye patch covering my left eye. The tip of a
scar peeked out at the top. Only my doctor knew what lay beneath. Over the years, I’d gotten
used to the stares. Unfortunately for me, I’d also gotten used to guys running the other way.
My last boyfriend sure did, all the way to another girl’s bed. Who would want to date a one-
eyed pirate girl anyway? It would make for awkward Thanksgiving introductions.
I shrugged off the negativity. I had more important things to think about. After this
feature, I needed to prepare for the Spring Showcase. It was months away, but in order to
graduate, I needed to put together a ten photo introspective. I still didn’t have a subject. If I didn’t find one soon and develop a relationship with him, her, or it, I wouldn’t have the right pictures to present to the panel headed by the dean of photography. If they didn’t like the
pictures, I could kiss my aspirations of becoming a well-known, well-respected photographer
goodbye and resign myself to a career in taking candid shots at weddings.
The mere thought dotted cold sweat across my brow.
Banishing my possible future if I didn’t find a subject soon along with the negativity
brought on by my patch, I grinned at the bouncer. “Hey, I’m here with Silvia Parker. We’re
covering the club for the Daily Gossip.”
Mentioning Silvia’s name brought the man back to life. He growled at the increasingly
antsy crowd behind me—with the drop in temperature, I couldn’t blame them—and unlatched
the velvet rope. He waved me in, giving my face one final glance. Sometimes I think I’d make
the perfect Bond villain. I already had the eye patch. All I needed now was the perfect
motivation to take over the world. And a white Persian cat.
I chuckled, handing my jacket to the guy in charge of them just inside the club. He handed
me a stub and I pushed my way in, following the techno music heavy on the organ beats.
Aromatic smoke curled from countless metal censers suspended from chains. A hazy from
the burning incense settled in the room, clogging my lungs. Fanning my face did nothing to
dispel the cloying scent. I may have to burn my clothes after leaving this place. I cursed the editor-in-chief for sending me here. Laser lights dancing to the beats produced by a DJ in a
priest’s cassock was one of the only sources of light. I cursed under my breath again. This
would be hell on my camera. I had to adjust the settings just right if I wanted half decent
pictures for the paper. Our editor-in-chief got OCD right around the final issue. The Daily
Gossip was more like a rag, but it was the rag I worked for. I took pride in what I did. If my pictures added interest to any story then I considered my job done.
The walls were covered with glow in the dark wall paper, each section depicting various
religious scenes. Already weird. Then I noticed the ceramic hands that they used as sconces.
The second source of light, but they didn’t help much. Rosaries hung from the extended
fingers. I wasn’t the religious type, but being in Sacrifice made me think of burning in hell for eternity. Then I looked up and immediately regretted it. Dancers dressed as sexy nuns
dangled from huge aluminum rings.
Yup, burning in hell for this was a definite possibility. I’d seen some crazy shit in the years I’d spent covering club openings for the paper, but the images in this club may scar me for
life. What would they think of next?
Scratch that. I did not want to know.
Fishing out my SD card from the front pocket of my leather pants, I inserted it into the
slot of my DSLR and prepared to take preliminary shots. Silvia would find me eventually.
Sometimes we didn’t even see each other at events. As long as I got the photos, she didn’t
complain. But there were times when she wanted me to focus on something specific. If that
was the case for Sacrifice, which certainly stood out from the other clubs we’d covered this
year, then I’d give her half an hour. If she didn’t get in touch by then, I was jetting.
The Daily Gossip liked stories that interested the students. A new club blocks away from
campus always increased our readership. I commended our editor for that. I’d rather cover a
club opening than a play. Been to a few flops this year. I shuddered at the memory of the
musical where all the actors couldn’t hold a tune. My ears still haven’t forgiven me.
I took a series of six photos, adjusting my camera along the way. One of the crowded bar.
It seemed two bartenders dressed as altar boys weren’t enough to meet demand. I took one of
the dance floor, catching the right moment when the lasers came down on the dancers. It
looked like an assassin trailed his weapon on them. I got a shot of Father DJ, the empty stage with band equipment, and a couple atmospheric shots for my own pleasure.
“D!”
Lifting my eye from the camera’s digi screen, I narrowed my gaze and scanned the crowd.
Silvia’s petite frame and pixie cut would be hard to spot normally, but she swam through the
crowd like a pro. It didn’t hurt that the sequined dress she wore caught what little light the club had just right. She looked like a walking disco ball on stilts.
Two drinks in hand, she pushed one glass my way. I brought it up to my nose and sniffed.
It bothered me to get drunk while sexy dancing nuns looked on from above. I’d just turned
twenty-one and still hadn’t gotten the hang of actually being legal to drink. The act of getting drunk lost most of its appeal once it was allowed. Either way, I didn’t drink on the job. Silvia knew that. Although, once she slipped me what seemed like mango juice when really it was
half vodka half juice. I didn’t speak to her for a month after that.
“It’s a soda, silly.” She rolled her heavily eye-shadowed eyes at me.
I still didn’t take her word for it, taking a tentative sip. The fizz popped in my mouth. I
swished the drink over my tongue like an experienced wine taster. Only when I was sure no
trace of alcohol burn accompanied the soda did I swallow.
“Is this club trippy or what?”
“If by trippy you mean sacrilegious? Then yeah. I already have a couple of good shots for
the paper.” I got right down to business. The sooner I satisfied Silvia, the faster I got home.
“Anything specific you want me to cover?”
The almost manic expression on her face should have been my first red flag. “We’re
changing the story.”
That line should have been my second, but I was used to her switching the direction of an
article. Larry, our dragon of an editor, will not be happy, but it was Silvia’s neck not mine.
“What do you have in mind?”
She angled toward the bar and stood on her tiptoes. Her sky high heels didn’t give her any
elevation at all. I snorted. The things the vertically challenged did to gain extra inches baffled me. I was happy in my boots. Being taller than the average girl, I didn’t need the extra height.
Another reason why guys ran the other way. Why would someone want to date Gigantor?
“Do you see that guy?” Silvia pointed in the distance with her drink holding hand.
With the place packed even I had to stand on my toes. Squinting, I followed the place she
