Chapter VII
/
"First night of your life, curled up on your own
Looking at you now, you would never know"
- Wires, Athlete
/
Round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round.
I felt like I was going to be sick, but Jo's grin was so wide that I couldn't refuse as she grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the back of the line again. "Just one more time!" she promised me, though that's what she had said the last time.
There was barely anyone standing in line so we made it on the ride immediately. As Jo skittered about and chose a random swing I sat down on the one next to her. I winced a little. The physical pain was bearable now but the memories it caused to flash in my mind were difficult to endure. I gripped the swing's chains tightly as I willed my brain to return to the moment. It had been five days but I was still struggling to keep it together. I wondered how long I was going to feel this way; when I'd be able to walk down an alley again.
The ride began and I was glad when I felt my lunch rise and had to focus all my attention on keeping it down. For three minutes I swung through the air in a wide circle, looking down at my feet as I tried not to throw up. I'd left my shoes on the pavement. They were a pair Ash had leant me, a size too big, but they still had laces. I was glad I didn't have to stare at them.
When the ride finally came to an end I stumbled out of the swing and slipped on my shoes, joining Jo as we exited the gate with the rest of those who had waited in line, most of whom were kids that barely reached past my belt. She must have noticed that my face was green because she didn't suggest we ride the swings again. Instead she led me by the hand to a booth that sold cotton candy. I bought her some and we sat on a bench, watching as a never-ending stream of people strolled by. I mainly saw families with small children but also a few teenagers who looked grumpy about being dragged here by their parents, one or two older couples, and the random group of friends laughing obnoxiously as they took up the entire pathway. Jo offered me some cotton candy but I shook my head. Nowadays, everything I ate seemed to have no taste at all.
"So how's Midnight"? she asked me before stuffing a huge tuft of pink fluff into her mouth.
'Midnight' was the place Ash earned money working as a bartender and where he'd helped me get a job. It was a classy looking bar with a lounge. To be honest, before I experienced my first day of work two days ago I was surprised that they allowed Ash to work there with his mullet and all, but I soon discovered that it wasn't a place that conformed much to society's social rules. Midnight was always full of strange characters; those who had money but also had peculiar tastes, like a lawyer who enjoyed pretending he was a vampire at night, or a police official's wife who had a thing for Lolita fashion. I'd never really cared for that kind of stuff, but to each his own I supposed.
"Not bad, I guess," I answered as I watched a woman manoeuvre a baby stroller around a garbage can. "At least soon I'll be able to stop borrowing clothes from Ash, because I swear they all smell like they've been washed in a tub full of beer."
Jo sniggered. "He
is a bartender, Sam. You'll probably end up smelling like that soon yourself."
"Nah, I'll smell worse. Like toilets. That's all I do there. Clean the toilets." I wished the truth was different. I was on cleaning duty, which meant I got to look forward to all the lovely presents people left me in the washrooms. But I wasn't about to complain because they paid me in cash every night. I hadn't even had to submit a résumé. It was a great set up when you needed to stay below the radar.
"Can we go on the merry-go-round next?" Jo asked excitedly. It was like the girl had never been to a fair before, but then again, maybe she hadn't.
I nodded my head, my voice not exactly excited as I said, "Sure, Jo." Another spinning ride, but at least I wasn't responsible for cleaning the washrooms
here.
"Sorry," she mumbled, frowning as she noticed my lack of enthusiasm. "This is supposed to be your day. You should get to pick the ride, but instead I'm dragging you around and getting you to buy me cotton candy."
I put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a small hug, feeling bad for not acting happier but not having it in me to put on a fake smile. "Don't worry about it. I don't mind. To be honest, this is probably one of the best birthdays I've ever had."
"Yeah right," she snorted. "It's not even your birthday today. I can't believe I forgot it." She huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Some friend I am."
I chuckled. "I almost forgot it myself. Don't be too hard on yourself."
"But you were so bummed out that day. I could tell," she claimed, looking down at the cotton candy she held, the pink and blue tufts stirring in the breeze. "I should have realized when you spent most of the night on the roof. You were sulking because we forgot your birthday and I didn't even realize until five days later!"
I gave her shoulder another squeeze to let her know I forgave her. I wanted to tell her that I hadn't been upset for the reasons she was claiming but I knew that would only lead to her questioning me until I told her the real cause. I couldn't do that, so I had to let her beat herself up over it some more. The truth was, spending time at the fair with her today was the perfect gift. It was something
normal, which seemed to be lacking from my life lately. It felt good just to have her next to me. She was so frail and soft. Harmless. A pretty girl who smelled like cherries. Always cherries, because she used cherry shampoo and cherry conditioner. Cherry chapstick too.
A memory of Dean unexpectedly flashed in my head. I remembered tasting cherries on his lips after Jo had lent him her chapstick. I could feel his hands on my abdomen, sliding upwards. I could hear his breathing... But then the memory was swirling, overlapping with another. I was back in the alley, and as soon as I envisioned that brick wall in my mind, I was shutting it down. Shutting my brain down and standing up from the bench.
"Let's go," I said as I reached down for Jo's hand. She took it, her hand swamped by my own, and then we were walking through the crowd to the merry-go-round. We rode it three times in a row, Jo acting just like the little girls that squealed in glee as they sat on fake ponies next to their parents. It was enough to make me smile and I spent the next two hours in a lighter mood. I was surprised when I actually enjoyed myself a little. I didn't know it was still possible to feel something like that.
When we got back to the shelter it was already dark and nearing twelve o'clock. Ash was at Midnight and I was due to be there soon. I walked Jo to her room, not having liked the look of the rowdy boys downstairs in the rec room. "I wish I could have gotten you a present," she announced as she stood in the doorway. The regret was clear in her voice and her honesty was almost enough to break me.
God, had she always been so child-like? I had seen Jo throw a punch or two and I'd heard her swear like a sailor, but right now she was the image of purity and innocence. I knew she was far from that in the sexual sense but her smile was so genuine. Like it could never be broken, no matter what life threw at her. I wanted to feel like that. I would do anything to have just a little bit of what emanated from her right now.
I reached up and touched her hair, my fingers easily sliding amongst the blonde strands. "You still can," I said, and then I was kissing her. Just a soft touch on the lips. Innocent. The scent of cherries was strong and I breathed it in as I drew away. But I didn't feel any different. I didn't feel stronger or happier or cleaner.
"I wish you'd stop," I said quietly, my forehead resting against hers.
"Stop what?" I heard her enquire after a pause. I pulled my head back. Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted, and I could tell she was confused.
I smiled softly. "Giving your body away," I replied. "I wish you'd stop." A crease appeared between her eyes and she pressed her lips together tightly. I reached my other hand up and cupped her face. "You're my best friend, you know that?" Her expression softened again. "I just don't want you to get hurt." Then I dropped my hands and took a step back. She was looking at me with a strange expression: concern mingled with surprise mixed with gratitude.
"Good night, Jo," I said. "Thank you for the birthday present." I left after she shut her door and locked it, walking down the hall to an empty room. After I had closed the door I sat on the edge of the bed and rested my elbows on my knees, holding my face in my hands.
Why was the world so fucked up? Why did Jo have to sell her body practically every night just to keep on living? Why wasn't she being doted on by loving parents, being crowned prom queen at some cliché high school in Alabama?
Why was Ash wasting his skills working at a bar where he served alcohol all night? Why wasn't he still in MIT or making loads of cash with some government position in Washington?
Why was my mom dead? Why wasn't I doing anything to get revenge on the man I suspected had killed her?
Why was I here? Terrified of going to the clinic. Barely able to sleep because I didn't know if it was safe. Safe from trains and back rooms and guns and alleyways. Safe from
people.
Sometimes I caught myself wishing I was in Dean's position, unable to remember anything. What a gift that would be. What a blessing. But then I'd start thinking about Dean and I'd have to stop. I didn't like to think about Dean, because when I did I thought of other things. Things I'd like to forget.
/
Midnight was busier than usual, or at least busier than the last two times I had been there. Today was my third shift and as I knelt by a toilet in the men's washroom, trying to mop up the puke on the floor, I wondered why people couldn't aim better.
There was a loud bang and suddenly voices were filling the washroom. "You wanna say that again?" someone shouted, their words noticeably slurred. There was a grunt and the shuffle of feet.
"Fuck you guys!" a man retorted, fear lacing his voice. I got to my feet, exiting the stall and looking at the scene playing out near the sinks. Three guys dressed in black tuxedoes were surrounding a young man. It was clear that the three were older and larger than the one, who had his back against the counter.
"You think you can speak like that to my boys and get away with it?" the man in the middle asked, shoving the younger man. He winced as his lower back dug into the counter, placing a hand on the counter to support himself. One of the three men seemed to notice they had company in the room and looked over at me, nudging his friend to alert him. I stared at four sets of eyes, three of which were very unwelcoming.
"You got a problem?" The middle man growled. I stood there for a moment, wondering what I should do. Did I have a problem? I had many problems, but none that involved these guys. I shook my head slowly. The younger man seemed to be pleading with me, his eyes big and round. He wanted me to step in, to help him, but I couldn't do that. So I simply walked by and left the washroom, leaving the mess in the stall and the man to face his fate.
I was in a bit of a daze as I walked into the main room and over to the bar. I passed a number of peculiar looking people, including a man and woman donning a wardrobe made entirely out of metal and leather, complete with collars. Every booth in the lounge seemed occupied but the bar itself was fairly empty at the moment. I sat down on a stool and rubbed the back of my neck.
"Think you can slip me a drink?" I asked Ash.
He flung a dishtowel over his shoulder as he glanced at me. "First of all, you're underage. Second, you're not allowed to drink on the job."
I glowered at him. "I see you drink all the time."
He smiled mischievously. "I can hold my liquor, unlike some people."
Shaking my head and sighing in irritation, I spun around on the stool and stared out at the lounge. It consisted of a number of circular booths lined with purple cushions. They were very private spaces, lit only by singular bulbs that hung above the table. The dim, blue lighting made it difficult to see faces clearly, but it didn't stop me from noticing
her.
"Shit," I cursed, immediately ducking my head and swinging back around. I hunched my shoulders as I hurriedly pulled the hood of my grey sweater over my head.
"What's the matter?" Ash inquired. I glanced up and saw that he was looking at me strangely, which was kind of funny since I was probably the only normal looking person here. Before answering I peeked over my shoulder, making sure it was really her I had seen.
Son of a bitch. What were the chances?
"Meg Masters," I whispered to Ash, like I was afraid she would hear me across the room and over the eerie music playing from the speakers.
"Should I recognize the name?" Ash asked me, looking out at the lounge as if he would see someone he knew.
"No, she's just someone who works for my stepfather," I explained, wondering how I was going to exit the building without risking her seeing me. "His 'secretary' of sorts." At least, that's what John had referred to her as; his secretary, though I knew he was sleeping with her. Had been for more than three years. I despised the bitch, because every time she had come over to the house on "business" she had treated my mom like a servant, and John had allowed it.
"Let me guess," Ash drawled. "Hot blonde wearing a little black dress and fish stockings standing by the second booth to the right?"
"How the hell did you know that?"
He looked over the bar at me, tapping his head with a finger like he always did when he showed his cleverness. "Never underestimate by powers of observation, Sam."
I scoffed. "You gonna help cover for me or what?"
"Now why would I do that? Don't tell me you have bad history with her."
I shook my head in impatience. "No, I just don't want her to know I'm here. She'll recognize me." Which might mean she'd report back to John straight away and I'd be dead within an hour. "Fuck, what's she doing here?" I swore under my breath.
"I'll tell the boss lady you went home sick," Ash told me. "But you better hurry and get out of here. The secretary is coming over."
"What?" I hissed, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder again and confirm Ash's report. "How close is she?"
"About seven feet. If you go to your left right now I think you can bypass her."
I immediately did as he suggested, making sure my face was covered by my hood as I skimmed the wall and skirted the blonde. I pushed past the nearest doors and slipped from the main room, trying to catch my breath. I was in the front entrance: a long, dark hallway lit only by faint purple lights lining the walls. After inhaling deeply I opened the swinging door again, trying to catch a glimpse of Meg at the bar. She was speaking with Ash, her elbows on the bar top, leaning forward and smiling. Her short blonde hair hid her eyes from view, but it was definitely her.
"Excuse me," a voice said and I spun around. A large woman dressed in some sort of black robe was trying to enter the lounge. I mumbled an apology and stepped out of the way. Then I walked down the hall and out onto the street. I had no trouble hailing down a taxi, the yellow vehicles never absent from any street no matter how deserted, and got into it. But as I went to close the door a leg slipped in and stopped me from shutting it. The limb was slender and pale and clad in black fishnet stockings. I looked up and my heart skipped a beat when I saw Meg leering down at me. "Sam," she said, as if greeting an old friend. "I
thought it was you I saw."
"I taking both of you?" the cab driver asked, clearly impatient to leave. I couldn't answer him because I was still trying to compute the fact that Meg had recognized me. My hand was clasping the car door but her leg was still in the way. I thought of pushing her back so I could close the door and drive off, but what good would that do me? She'd still report back to John and he'd find me eventually.
"No, I'm sorry," Meg called to the driver as she leaned into the cab and grabbed my wrist. "We don't need a taxi."
But then she was suddenly being pushed into the car and I had to shuffle to the other side of the back seat as a third person entered. "Actually, you can drive us to 132 Frontenac street," a gruff voice said as I heard the taxi door slam shut. I looked over Meg, who was making a fuss in the middle, and saw Dean dressed in a black jacket and jeans. "And I'll make it worth your while if you step on it."
"Sure thing," the cab driver responded in a happier voice. Then we were speeding down the street and I barely stopped myself from holding onto something for dear life.
To Be Continued.
