Chapter One:

I sit at the bar sipping on my martini. I lower my eyes trying to ease the sting that they endure looking out upon the crowd. Massive swirls of colors collide, bombarding one another. Auras they call them. I call them a nuisance. I grab my drink and move closer to the booming speaker, that blare nothing that I like, but they provide just enough noise to drown out the thoughts of others. Therefore pleasing my ears.

Suddenly, the hairs on my neck raise. Something is wrong. Something is out of place. I can tell. The energy of my usual hang out has changed. I look up at the door and see a almost unearthly beautiful woman standing in the door way. She clad in a black cocktail dress, her mile long legs look even longer with the black peep-toe, three inch heels push out the muscles in them. Her blonde hair is half-up, half-down in waves. 

Everything seems perfect, too perfect really. I notice something about her, she hasn’t got an aura. I move away from the speakers that blare Bad Romance by Lady Gaga and am blasted by something far worse. The thought of others. Moving closer to her, I notice something else, I can’t hear her thoughts either. My curiosity is sparked.
She moves to the bar in slinky steps, seamless. The bartender takes her order and she waits for him to return with her drinks. She sits on the stool and crosses her legs. Runs her slender fingers through her blonde hair.

I inch closer, closer, closer- but still I can’t pick anything up on her. I am not used to this. Everything since I can remember I could read other’s minds. It was kind of nice when I was younger, I could get out of trouble easily- but as I got older I became more and more timid to use my “gift”. Reading minds would seem to be a good thing, but trust me- sometimes you just don’t want to know the truth. The day I began to regret my gift was the day I found out, telepathically, that my husband, Cole, was leaving me for my best friend Jodi. That they’d been sleeping together for years, and I just didn’t know. I packed my things and left. I ran. Three months of living with my sister, Kit, and four jobs later- he shows up on my door step telling me that he loved me and wanted me back- only to have been left by Jodi for a woman named Amy. Too late. That door had been closed, slammed shut actually.

After Cole, I quit seeing men. Finally able to realize that I wasn’t the bisexual I’d played myself off as. Cole provided comfort, at first he drowned out the noises, but then he only provided his own and I couldn’t turn it off. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. I started heavily into drugs. I turned to cocaine for a release. It subsided the noises, but left me defenseless. I didn’t like it- so I quit. 

Two years later I met Alice. A quirky blonde that had her head far to into anyone and everyone else’s business to conceive any thoughts that would make me run. She was simple. And to be honest, a good lay. We spent a lot of nights together, she didn’t like talking- and I didn’t need to talk. It was pure and white hot passion. But that flame soon died. We split amicably after six weeks. That was three years ago, and she is still a very large part of my life. My best friend. 

Through Alice I met Dana. A up and coming tennis star that provided a good laugh for me every now and again. Her very conservative background classed with her extremely liberal views now. She was lesbian, undeniably- but refused to come out of the damp, dark, and wretched closet. It was sad, but Dana made the most of her life; and was the funniest and most uplifting friend I had. 

Shane came next. Loyalty was Shane’s specialty. She was Hollywood’s female Casanova of the lesbians. One-nighters after one-nighters. Day after day. She wasn’t the best person to be in a relationship with, if you could get that far with her- but she was loyal to me, to Alice, and to Dana.

Shocked back to present. The blonde grabbed her mojito and started sipping from it. Hmm, mojito- elegant. Spicy. Promising. I couldn’t stand it anymore. Although the danger was probably too much to calculate, but this was the first person I’d been in the presence of that I couldn’t read. So I walked up to her. “Hello, my name is Bette Porter.”