Sun Kissed & Salted (eBook)

Angela Blair (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
300 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-9928261-1-1 (ISBN)

Infos

When curiosity and risk go too far, will she listen to the epiphany that could save her from losing it all? Alika Jones is a free spirit traveling the world on the edge. Emotional and psychological complexities drive this raw and vulnerable story of an unconventional life. Sun Kissed & Salted will propel you through a woman's wild escapades while diving deeply into her soul.

Angela Blair lives a tranquil life in a small town in Oregon, where she enjoys meditation, long nature walks with her dog, swimming, art, music, and precious time spent with her kids. She graduated from California State University, Northridge, with a creative writing and religious studies degree. Her debut novel, Sun Kissed & Salted, is inspired by her spiritual findings and infinite love of world travel.

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When curiosity and risk go too far, will she listen to the epiphany that could save her from losing it all?Alika Jones is a free spirit traveling the world on the edge. Emotional and psychological complexities drive this raw and vulnerable story of an unconventional life. Sun Kissed & Salted will propel you through a woman's wild escapades while diving deeply into her soul. A near-death experience is just the start of a story about an eccentric woman who travels the world on a whim, oblivious that she has bipolar disorder and naively self-medicates with drugs, alcohol, and risky adventures. Alika Jones is a thrill seeker whose distorted instincts get her into trouble, and yet whose intuition fortunately gets her out of the bizarre circumstances she finds herself in. Growing up in a troubled household during the 1970s and 80s in Los Angeles sets her up on shaky ground, and she elopes with a handsome hustling street musician who whisks her away to Europe. Alika immerses herself in life on the streets, hitchhiking north to London, where the gritty realities of busking and squatting have her in survival mode. The couple finds ways to travel to Japan, Thailand, West Africa, and Mexico, driven by curiosity. Exploration of new cultures, playing their music, and entertaining crowds propel the story until a mysterious occurrence eventually guides Alika away from her abusive husband. She ventures into the world alone, vulnerable, and on the fringe of society, finding that harrowing and outlandish circumstances lie ahead. Ultimately, she discovers the freedom she seeks is found when she takes responsibility and becomes honest with herself. This is the shift that marks the beginning of her transformation.

Textauszug

Dario Chapter 2

Living by the beach felt glorious. The near-death experience from my bike accident was a transcendent event that I carried with me as I continued to heal. I wrote in my journal furiously and continued my art classes at Santa Monica College while privately philosophizing about the existence of a supreme being. I read Rumi, Rilke, and Kahlil Gibran, wrote poetry, and wondered about my purpose in life.

What would I call the force that spared me from death?

When the stitches were taken out of my face, you could hardly tell I had been in a life-threatening accident. That generous plastic surgeon had almost completely restored my face, aside from a faint scar on my forehead and on the side of my lip. The important thing was that I had survived. And survival mode was where my mind stayed, stuck for years to come, before I understood what a miracle it was to have made conscious contact with the divine. I was vulnerable to the dark allure in the world. It would grab me, and I would go with it willingly.

Seven months later, when the cast was taken off, I abandoned my crutches and began working again at the Broadway Bar and Grill, a hot spot on the 3rd Street Promenade. Black pants, white shirt, and black tie in place, I served customers with flair and earned big tips. I begged for extra shifts to save money that I would need to visit Kari, my best friend from high school, who was in college spending a year in Kenya. I had always wanted to travel abroad, and I thought that Africa would be an excellent place to start. I had almost saved enough money for the trip when I met Dario.

I spotted him outside smoking a cigarette before he strolled into the restaurant with swagger. I persuaded the hostess to seat him and his group of friends in my section. Carrying an acoustic guitar on his back, wearing a black velvet jacket and vintage shoes, he possessed a magnetic charisma that had me mesmerized. I couldn’t stop staring at him with his dark hair, dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and full lips.

I was shaking with excitement, my heart racing. It was obvious to the whole party that I was captivated with this strange man. The jolly group teased me a bit when, in an alluring accent, he introduced himself as Dario Moretti, shaking my hand with his fingertips as if he were a king.

“Ciao, Bella,” he said stripping my uniform off with his eyes.

What was it that had me excited but scared simultaneously? I felt like I had walked into a sexy vampire novel and couldn’t resist the dark charms dangling before me. Was I willing to go down that mysterious and dangerous road? For lack of better judgement, I was.

They all drank beers on tap and ate the highest priced items on the menu. Dario was precise when he ordered a pescatarian meal, insisting that there be no butter, or anything with dairy. He talked with his friends about his hometown near Rome. I had never met an authentic Italian before, and it made me tingle between my thighs. When I laid the $350 check on the table there was an awkward moment when Dario didn’t pay his share of the bill after coming up with only loose change in his pockets and his friends had to cover him. I intentionally ignored the red flag waving. He flattered me and we flirted with each other all evening. Instead of leaving with his friends, he waited at the bar until my shift was over and escorted me home.

As soon as I opened the door to my apartment, he pressed me against the wall and carefully took off my uniform, caressing me all over, exhilarating my skin, and nibbling my neck. I was left submissive and malleable in his arms. I was his.

His physique was flawless, so in between our moments of passion, I broke out my Polaroid camera and took numerous nude photos of him. Using my coveted black and white film, the instant photos looked soft on the edges, sensuous, surreal. Resembling classic Italian sculpture, Dario was like a real-life David, and he had no qualms about posing for me. We barely slept that night, and when the dawn shone its light from below the horizon, Dario picked up his guitar. A sensuous buzz rolled over my skin leaving me heated under the sheets.

Amazed by the strange chords he played in the stillness of the morning; I was swept into a dreamy place that only music could take me. Dissonant, deep tones lingered in the air filling my basement apartment when shoes started to shuffle along the boardwalk.

“I’ve never heard anyone play like you before,” I said, faintly, as if coming out of a daze. “Would you make the soundtrack for my slideshow? I’m almost done shooting the final project. Your music is perfect,” I said, leaning in for a kiss.

“I’ll make you the best fucking soundtrack you’ve ever heard, amore,” he said as he leaned me back and smothered my small breasts with kisses.

The next day, at my friend’s studio down the street, Dario recorded a three-minute guitar instrumental in one take. The track had open chords and unique rhythms as he slapped the front of his guitar and vocalized what sounded like a jungle at night. Dario’s music was mesmerizing, and I just knew he was born to be a rock star. I was utterly infatuated.

Photography had become my passion. I won first place with a self-portrait in the art exhibit at school that year. In it, I peered into a shattered mirror I had found on the pavement with a mural behind me depicting a waterscape, while the sunset created a warm glow on my face. My hand reached into the broken mirror as my long, newly auburn hair blew in the wind and my eyes searched for an answer to the perplexing question of life’s purpose.

But for my final project, I had a beautiful mixed-race model from my neighborhood, who had long dark hair and beautiful curved eyes. The slide show portrayed her internal struggle of being lost in the world as I shot dramatic close-ups under streetlights along the boardwalk. I directed her emotional expressions as she emerged from shadows and ultimately lifted herself from the water in my bathtub as if she was being reborn. Gratified, I was pleased with my show. The images experimented with lighting, composition, and perspective, complemented by Dario’s intriguing music that heightened the swell of drama portrayed on my model’s face. It was a smashing success and the pinnacle of my semester.

By that time, Dario had moved in with me. He insisted that I have my hair cut into a shoulder-length bob like Faye Dunaway in Bonnie and Clyde. He also picked out my clothes each morning, dressing me like a doll in my long flowy skirts pushed down around my hips exposing my torso. It was fun to be his model dressing up in vintage minidresses, or wide-legged black satin pants with a golden glittery halter top as we strutted down the Venice boardwalk like the new “It Couple.” Dario had an entitled air about him, as if people were fortunate to have him in their presence. He made me feel important too, often swooping me up in his arms and carrying me along the beach while showering me with kisses.

It was the summer of 1989, and a perfect day at the beach, when Dario whispered in my ear, “Amore, come with me to Italy.”

Exhilarated by the suggestion, I felt torn.

“But I’m saving money to meet my best friend in Kenya.”

Determined to go to Italy in November for his brother’s wedding, he asked how much money I had saved up. When I said that I had about two thousand dollars, he told me about a scam he often used to double his money. After buying physical travelers checks, he would sign them with a thick rubber band around his arm, hidden under his sleeve, which would produce a slightly shaky signature emulating a forgery. Then he would cash the checks, report them stolen, and get his full amount refunded from American Express.

“You can only do it once,” he said, “and I’ve already done it. So have all my friends in New York. It’s easy, amore. None of us have ever gotten caught.”

I was reluctant at first, the red flags were multiplying, but after Dario persisted and I rationalized that it wouldn’t be hurting anybody, I finally agreed to do it. When my $2,000 became $4,000, Dario and I made international plans.

While we drank beer and threw back shots in a Hollywood bar to celebrate, he said, “Marry me, amore.”

Without hesitating, I said, “Yes!” and after hours of drinking, we decided to elope in Big Sur.

Dario had always wanted to drive along Highway 101 to witness for himself the stunning coastline that he had seen so many times in iconic films. As we drove, we marveled at the beauty of California and the Pacific Ocean, stopping several times along the way to make love on a blanket laid on the sand. The weather was perfect with a cool breeze wafting through the windows and clear sunny skies lighting up the sparkling ripples across the expansive blue mass of saltwater. We ascended the mountain curling along the shore witnessing the rocky terrain where the waves crashed with excitement against the boulders surrounded by smooth shards of jade. After passing through the winding roads along the extraordinary cliffs, we checked into the historic Deetjen’s Big Sur Inn, made famous by Henry Miller and Jack Kerouac, and hit a bar in town.

We were drinking martinis when we mentioned to Dave the bartender that we were getting married and needed an officiant.

“You’re in luck,” he said. “I’m ordained as a minister by the Universal Life Church. I’ll marry...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 12.9.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-9928261-1-1 / 9798992826111