Read Online Beyond the Pale Motel by Francesca Lia Block - Free Book Online

When I was younger and slept around, I always ended up crying as soon as the guy was inside me and scaring him away. This was before I really had all that much to cry about.
    Sure, I wrote back. At Sky’s practice. Done by 7:30. I’ll cook, though.
    No, I insist. Dinner on me.
    A little later the sky was turning a deep pink and Skylar came loping over, flushed, his bat bag swaying on his shoulder, way too big for him. I got out of the car and helped him put the bag in back, hoping Coach might see me and come over, but he didn’t.
    It’s okay, you’re going to see Cyan. You can ask about Dash. Stupid, Catt, stupid. You think this will change anything?
    *   *   *
    It was Bree’s whole demeanor that changed when she came to pick up her son and saw my brother-in-law. Ex-brother-in-law? Her eyes got bigger, she pushed out her chest; it was a reflex with her. I was so used to disappearing around her that I just accepted it. Something was different this time, though.
    â€œThis is Cyan. Cyan, this is Bree. You’ve met before. At the wedding.” I couldn’t say our wedding.
    Cyan shook her hand. I looked closely at his face—not a glimmer of change, let alone the sea change I was used to when she entered a space. As if he still didn’t really see her. Strange.
    â€œThe photographer,” she said, holding his hand an extra second, until he moved it away.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou have a really good eye.” Little-girl teeth and dimples.
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œThat picture of Catt getting ready is my favorite.”
    â€œIt’s all your makeup, Bree,” I told her. Then, to Cyan: “And good lighting and angles.”
    â€œIt was all you, Catt,” Cyan said, face placid.
    She stood staring at him, seemingly unfazed that he wasn’t playing her game. “I’d love to pick your brain about photography sometime,” she said. “People have asked me to model, but I’m more interested in the other side of the camera, honestly. Sometimes I’ll just model in order to learn more about taking pictures. You can learn a lot that way.”
    He nodded, then turned away from her chatting to me. “I made reservations at eight.”
    Bree’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, okay.” She pulled her son against her hip as if she’d just realized he was there. He’d been busy with his iPod and didn’t seem to mind either way. “Let’s get going, Skylar.”
    â€œI fed him a big meal before and a snack after,” I said.
    â€œThanks, Catt, you’re the best.”
    I loved how Sky still threw his arms around me with abandon when we hugged, and I hoped it would continue for as many more years as possible. I pushed his still-damp hair back off his forehead, which, hidden from the sun, was a shade paler than the rest of his face. “See you soon, buddy.” When I opened the door the night air, oversweet with jasmine blossoms, felt cool on my face. I was tired from the day but suddenly I wanted to go out.
    Cyan drove us to Palm Latitudes, a restaurant in an old, pink adobe building; we sat in the courtyard beside a fountain, among potted palms strung with chili-pepper lights. I asked him to take some pictures of the place for my blog.
    He ordered ceviche and tamales with mango salsa and I watched him across the mosaic table, thinking how much he looked like Dash, and yet how different they were. I’d only seen one childhood picture of the two brothers because Dash said his mother hardly took any to begin with and he’d thrown away the rest.
    â€œWhy?” I’d asked, and he’d said his childhood wasn’t worth remembering and could we talk about something else?
    I knew only that his father had died when he was three and his mother was crazy, that alcohol had killed her. That Dash and Cyan weren’t that close, but that Cyan had been protective in some ways and Dash was