The Bed Mate: A Room Mate Novella
Kendall Ryan
One Thousand and One Dark Nights
Once upon a time, in the future…
I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.
I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast library at my father’s home and collected thousands of volumes of fantastic tales.
I learned all about ancient races and bygone
times. About myths and legends and dreams of all people through the millennium. And the more I read the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually become part of them.
I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I would not be telling you this tale now.
But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off with bravery.
One afternoon, curious about the myth of the
Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar (Persian: ??????, “king”) married a new virgin, and then sent yesterday's wife to be beheaded. It was written and I had read, that by the time he met Scheherazade, the vizier's daughter, he’d killed one thousand women.
Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had never occurred before and that still to this day, I cannot explain.
Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to protect herself and stay alive.
Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.
And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.
And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that he might hear the rest of my dark tale.
As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new
one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before you now.
Chapter One
Maggie
“Fifth bar of the night!” Jeremy’s speech was slurred but his eyes were filled with an unholy glee.
“Personal best,” Peter agreed with a snort, holding up a hand for a high five that Jeremy attempted to oblige him with but failed, swinging wildly and almost toppling off his chair.
Excellent.
I rolled my eyes and sipped my vodka soda, glancing out of the corner of my eye to see Sam’s expression. He wasn’t drunk like his other two friends—he was too responsible to let himself get trashed in public. Either way, though, I knew at least two of them were only sips away from tearfully telling me how much our collective friendship meant to them, and I so did not want to stick around for that.
“Maybe we ought to hit the road,” I murmured to Sam, jerking a thumb over my shoulder toward our drunken companions. “These two can grab a ride, right?”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Jeremy held up a hand and then dropped it back in his lap with a smack. “We didn’t get to the main event.”
“Yeah,” Peter agreed, clicking his beer against Jeremy’s.
“Maybe we better talk about it another night,” Sam said with a patient smile.
I shook my head and sighed. This ought to be good. “What’s the main event?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s what my genius friends have taken to calling our big snowboarding trip.”
“Not exactly.” Jeremy eyed Sam, then turned to me. “The main event for tonight was going to be us convincing you to go. Peter and I figured if we got enough booze in you, you might reconsider.”
I swirled my drink with its tiny red straw and frowned. “And how do you think your plan is going so far?”
“You tell me.” Jeremy waggled his eyebrows comically. “Don’t you want to spend more time with us on the snow-topped mountains of Colorado?”
“Appealing as that sounds, no,” I shot back with a grin.
“Come on. You have no idea how it feels to slice through the powder on your snowboard,” Peter protested. “It’s like heaven on earth.”
“I also have no idea what it feels like to break my leg, but I don’t want to find that out either,” I countered easily, taking another long pull from my drink. “Did you know that more than forty people died snowboarding last year alone? A snowboarder who gets on a mountain twenty times a year is likely to be injured once every seven years. You can’t argue statistics like that.”
“It could be fun…” Sam hedged with a shrug.
“Breaking my femur after wildly careening down the side of a mountain? I think not.”
Sam gave me a dead-eyed stare. “Not that part, scaredy cat. The trip, I mean. These guys aren’t right about much but you should come along. We’re doing New Year’s in style. Hot tubs and hot toddies in a winter wonderland.”
“Did you not get the stats I sent you the last time you tried to convince me to go snowboarding?” I demanded.
“Some of us don’t live our whole lives by the numbers,” Sam said, a teasing light making his dark blue eyes sparkle.
Stop it, idiot.
Best friends weren’t supposed to notice things like that about each other. It was just weird.
“I fail to see what’s wrong with it.” I shrugged, feeling suddenly warm despite the relative chilliness of the room, and sucked down the rest of my drink.
“Come on, Mags. Take a risk.” Those eyes searched mine and, despite myself, I could sense my resolve weakening. I hated saying no to him, even when his daredevil lifestyle threatened my cocoon of safety. We were as different as night and day, but for some reason, we clicked and I felt more comfortable around him than pretty much anyone else.
A stab of guilt shot through me and I cleared my throat.
“I really can’t. Trevor and I probably have plans, I just can’t remember what they are.” I pulled out that feeble old excuse and Sam glanced at his other friends before turning his attention back to me.
“Right. Trevor. Hey, you need another drink? Or a water?” He pointed at my empty glass.
“Nah,” I said. “I’m ready to crash for the night if you think Heckle and Jeckle will be okay without us here to babysit.” I jerked my head toward Peter and Jeremy, and Sam laughed.
“Come on, guys, let’s head out. I’ll give you a ride.” He snagged his coat off the back of his chair and slung it over my shoulders before motioning for his friends to join us as we moved to the bar to settle up.
“I’ve got hers and mine,” he said to the bored-looking bartender. I protested, holding my hand out, but he moved away before I had the chance to argue.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.