Coal to Diamonds by Augusta Li Read Free Book Online

chipped, white-washed iron sink that matched his prize possession: an antique claw-foot tub big enough for all three of them. He looked at himself in the square mirror that hung from a rusty nail. Cole didn’t possess the nymphlike beauty of Cam or Bobby’s wholesome good looks. His long nose had been broken in a grade-school fight, before he had Bobby’s presence to deter bullies. It had healed slightly crooked and with a lump on the bridge. His cheeks were high and sharp, his chin pointed. He ran a finger along his jawbone, which was still smooth and stubble-free after two days without a shave. Old Mrs. Riley had liked to tell people around town that her grandson’s straight dark hair and intense almond eyes were the result of “the Black Irish comin’ out in ’im.” She, like Cole’s mother, had been a blue-eyed strawberry blonde.
    Cole walked many miles a day, and he cut and hauled his own wood. But he also forgot to eat when his writing was going well. The result was a thin body with stringy muscle stretched taut under skin the color of wet sand. He looked perpetually tense, like a cobra coiled and ready to strike. Since he’d saved enough tax-return money to lease the cabin, quit his job, and work on his first novel, Cole had let his hair grow to his collarbone, dyed a few pieces crimson, and painted his fingernails black. He wondered, looking at himself, what it was about him that Cam and Bobby loved.
    He ran his palm over the large tattoo on the inside of his right forearm: a black circle with eight arrows pointing out in every direction: the symbol of Chaos. To Cole, Chaos was the ultimate creative and destructive catalyst. The music of the spheres was Chaos. Through it, nothing was true and everything was possible. He’d never been able to fully impart to Bobby and Cam his understanding of magic and the universe through Chaos.
    When Cole returned to the bedroom, Cam was gone. He found Cam in the kitchen, sitting at the table in Cole’s black velvet robe with the blanket wrapped around him. He looked lovely and desirable with his sleepy smile and his pale, mussed hair. Bobby stood in front of the ancient gas range in his loose khakis and no shirt, stirring something in a pan. The coffeemaker gurgled and dripped.
    “Cole, my love,” Bobby said with a grin, “this situation is completely unacceptable. There’s not a damn thing to eat in this house. Now that I used your last half-dozen eggs, there’s nothing in the fridge but ketchup and beer.”
    “Don’t be so harsh,” Cole responded. “I’m pretty sure there’s a lemon in there somewhere.” He walked over and put his hand on Bobby’s waist. He knew Bobby enjoyed his food, and he had always found it endearing. The sunny-side up eggs looked delicious, and Cole felt surprisingly hungry. “Smells good,” he said. “I think I have a few slices of bread in the cupboard. I’m gonna throw some clothes on. Then we can make toast.”
    “A real feast,” Bobby said sarcastically as Cole headed back toward the bedroom. “I don’t know how you don’t get scurvy, Cole. Why don’t you just build a fire and leave the cooking to me? Gods, I think I’d kill for some bacon and sausage.”
    With the fire crackling and the simple breakfast prepared, the three of them sat down at the small table. Bobby dipped the corner of his bread in the yolk of his egg, chewed it, and then washed it down with a sip of coffee. “I think it’s time we decided what we’re going to do about our friend Mr. Thorn,” he said, meeting each of their gazes in turn.
    “I said we’re safe,” Cole reminded him for the third time. “Cam says so too.” He slurped down a flat, greasy piece of egg white, its edges crisp and brown. Some dried pizza seasoning gave the food zest, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so famished.
    “We’re safe right now,” Bobby continued, building his argument stone by stone. “But we can’t stay in this cabin for the rest