They spit on me before they go, and Short Shit leans all the way down to the pavement to meet my eyes.
“Thanks, baby.” He sticks a one-dollar bill to my bloody face.
The aftermath is simple. It starts raining. I lay there in some sort of trance of misery, watching a river of my own blood navigate down the alley, allowing myself to feel the pain, not try to conquer it. Eventually, I lose consciousness.
Benny finds me at six the next morning and thinks I’m dead. In an hysterical frenzy, he borrows his cook’s truck and picks me up and puts me inside. He’s headed to the hospital.
I open my eyes a little, and he sees I’m alive. He starts talking, but he sounds far away. The only thing I understand is, “I’m sorry, Rainn, I’m so sorry.”
I wasn’t sorry. I was destroyed, but I was glad I was destroyed. It felt appropriate. It felt like punishment, punishment I desperately need.
They didn’t bother counting the stitches. Some were on my face, a lot weren’t. Benny was a basket case.
“You are moving in. I am going to sleep on the couch. You are taking the bedroom, and I don’t want to hear a thing about it.”
For weeks, that’s exactly what had to happen until I healed up a little.
After that though I went back to the alley, because when something kicks your ass, the thing to do is go back out and look it in the eye again. I would not live in fear. I would not leech on to people who would have no moral choice but to let me.
I won’t pretend it came easily. I won’t pretend I didn’t sneak back up to Benny’s some nights when the quiet was too quiet or laughter was too close. I won’t tell you I wasn’t scared or even that I don’t still get scared sometimes. What I will tell you is that I refused to let fear dictate my life.
Benny however, poor Benny, he’s very afraid. I think he’d honestly prefer I just move in so he could stop looking out that window. But I won’t.
Benny’s bedroom light flicks back off. I know he’s still standing there, peering through the blinds. My fingers are too stiff to bend. I hear the crunching of tires on loose rocks. A car? My stomach clenches, and I shrink back into the corner.
I bite my lip angrily. Too scared. Take a deep breath and overcome it. I see the headlights painting the asphalt, highlighting the falling snow. The car stops in front of me, and a ripple of anticipation overcomes me. The car door opens.
“Get in the friggin’ car.” It takes me a minute to process her voice. It’s Jaselle. I didn’t even recognize her Celica under the layer of snow and darkness. Her face is angelic. She’s dusted in snowflakes. I warm from the core, somewhere deep inside. And then I feel myself fight it, try to resist.
She makes a quick “come the hell on” gesture, I’m sure trying to fathom my hesitation. I’m doing the same. She feels so good. So why my constant resistance? Am I punishing myself still like Benny says? Or am I just afraid she’ll destroy me? I made a choice a long time ago not to live in fear, and that applies beyond the alley.
I stand up and go to her, around the car and into her arms. I meet her lips hard, taking her kiss. She yields to me, going soft in my embrace, holding me close. She grabs me, pulling my hips to her.
I feel like we’re standing there forever, melting into each other, tasting each other. I could have stood there for another forever, but she finally pulls away. A smile spreads across her face.
“Hi.”
I smile back and kiss her again. “Hey.”
“You know it’s like, negative ten degrees right now?”
“I knew it was cold as hell,” I say.
“I couldn’t sleep knowing you were out here.”
It wouldn’t matter if it were negative seven hundred; I could stand here looking at her longer, but I can feel her shivering, so I get in the car. The ride is quiet while we sneak glances across the car. Flashes of what I want to do to her are running wild. It feels so good to let them go, leave them be, and see how they develop.
But when we finally get to her house she has her own plans. She slams me into the wall with no hesitation. She presses against me, pinning my hands while she kisses me. Her strength is overwhelming, surprising. I can’t move, even if I wanted to, and that positively thrills me.
She slides to her knees, kissing her way down, breathing over my skin. She pulls my belt, undoing it with expert finesse. Her mouth is burning, a searing tease playing by my hips. I force my wilting legs to hold me. She pushes me back against the wall. I hadn’t realized I was falling off it, begging to collapse into her.
She breathes on me, pausing for a moment, sending a tingle through my spine, then moving on. I sigh audibly and see her smile at my pain. I let her go on like that for a while until I can’t take any more. I grab a handful of her hair and pull her to me.
I fleetingly wonder if she’s okay with it, but she meets my surge of lust with one of her own. Her tongue is soft but demanding, blazing perfection.
I hear myself moan her name, and she increases the pressure with the plea. I dig my nails into her shoulders and drag. She pulls me to the floor with her and slips her fingers inside me. My back arches off the floor. With her fingers still inside, she kisses her way back up, gently biting my neck, breathing in my ear, and finally resting in my eyes while she goes deeper.
“You want to come?” she whispers.
“Yes.”
“You want to come?”
“God yes.”
“Ask me.”
“Please, baby. Make me come.”
She presses harder and grinds her hips into me in a rhythm that makes me weak, pulling me to her, delivering the moment she decides to. And then I dissolve into her. She holds me tight, kissing my head. I squeeze as hard as I can. Don’t let me go.
Chapter Seven
“Let’s do some meth,” Jaselle says, casual as can be. “I know where we can get some.”
I can’t explain why my stomach knots. I’ve never exactly been timid about drugs before. There’s just something about that one that seems a little too dark. She reads my face.
“We don’t have to if you aren’t into it. I just thought it’d be fun.”
“Sure,” I finally say. “Why not?” The nerves twist one more time at the commitment, and I consciously tell myself to take a breath. You don’t want to go into it like that. It’s only a few hours.
It doesn’t take her long at all to find some. She makes one phone call, and whoever is on the other side does the rest. An hour later, we’re standing on a street corner looking out for a blue Honda with a duct-taped right brake light. I wonder absently why any drug dealer would want such a distinction on his vehicle, seems like an easy thing for cops to latch on to.
The guy is an hour late. When he finally rolls up to the stop light, Jaselle goes to the back seat window. I can’t see even an outline of the person through the black tint. Again, I wonder what kind of dealer would invite random pullovers with illegal tinting. Completely doubting this guy’s capability, I look over my shoulder, wishing Jaselle would drop this apparently intriguing conversation already and come back. The light turns green and he zips away, bass rattling everyone’s windows.
“Subtle,” I say and roll my eyes when Jaselle is back.
She smiles. “I know, right? Come on.” She slips her hand into mine and squeezes. “I’m so glad we’re doing this together. I really think you’re going to like it.”
I do like it. The second that cloud glides up the foil to fill my lungs with a silky rush, I like it a lot. The smell isn’t so great. It’s chemical, harsh, invoking the instinct that it was made from products decorated with hazards and warnings, the kinds of things that tell you to immediately contact a doctor should you accidentally ingest it, or to flush eyes vigorously for forty-five minutes in the event of contact.
The taste is metallic, but it goes down like a dream, none of that coughing, burning, gasping you get with cigarettes or weed. It just wraps you up in a smooth, warm hug and whispers everything is all right, or maybe tha
t it just doesn’t matter if it isn’t.
Yeah, I think it’s safe to say it scares me immediately, the sheer power of it. Nothing should feel so good, certainly not a drug. I don’t have the finances to fall in love.
But for now, I’m floating in a dream, energized and fearless. Yes, fearless, that adjective I’ve been chasing, it’s here, in the fold of the foil. Nothing can hurt me. I’m fucking amazing. I’m too smart to be tricked, too strong to be raped, too resilient to be broken. You know that feeling you get after you’ve accomplished something that took everything you had? It feels a little like that, only way better. For once you’re not so ashamed of yourself.
“It’s much better with someone,” Jaselle says. I have nothing to compare it with, but being high with Jaselle is pretty incredible. She is the blazing flame in my chest, and I can’t get enough. We fuck. And then we fuck some more. We smoke a little more, and then we fuck a lot more. I never knew meth to be a sex drug, but let me tell you, it is.
Velvet copper, silken smoke, bring me a lover. Sweet shadows, fill my soul. The room no longer extends beyond the glow of her lighter. “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.” Bible verses ring randomly in my head with no origin. My mother must be climbing out of my subconscious. I know so much more than she. Gather the lonely, bring them to me. I have the answers. I’ll live forever.
Smoking lies. That’s meth.
“Kiss me.” Yes, again and always again.
Just as I’m agreeing with this whole idea and the genius of it, my heart is beating too fast.
“There’s someone coming, someone to the window.”
“What?” Jaselle looks. “No, there isn’t.”
I keep staring.
“Rainn.” She puts her hand on my face, so calm. “No one is coming. It’s okay.”
“No, there is. There is, they saw us.”
“You’re just high, baby.”
Her hipbones grind into my thighs. Her breath is warm on my neck. They’re coming. Have to leave this place before they get here.
“Shh.” Shh like deep waters of tomorrow, forever beyond reach. Envelop me, sweet satin smoke, veil this world from my eyes, ripping away the curtain, baring my naked mind.
Something buzzes next to me. Phone call. Jaselle’s phone, singing Nirvana. Say hello. She ignores it. Thicker smoke. Three huge bangs on the door. “Jaselle!” Way too loud. “Open the door, Jaselle!”
She lies across me on her back, raising her hand to my face. More pounding. She pulls me into her kiss.
“Open the door!”
“Go away, Noah.” Her lips never leave mine as she yells back. The pounding gets louder. Splintering wood. She licks my lips, moving her hand down over my breasts. Pounding, crunching, breaking. She presses into me. The doorframe finally gives and Noah surges through.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he screams. Jaselle laughs through his rage. He reaches down and grabs her arms, jerks her from my lap, and screams in her face. “I said—”
I lunge off the end of the bed and shove him as hard as I can. “Get your hands off her!” He stumbles back and falls against the wall. He springs back up in a fury. Jaselle steps between us, holding a soft hand to my chest and a pleading one to Noah.
“She’s high, Noah. Leave her alone.”
He points a finger in my face over Jaselle’s protective arm. “No shit. You’re high, both of you! I swear to God I could fucking kill you right now!” His eyes burn into me and I completely believe him.
“Get out, Noah!” Jaselle screams.
“Not this again, Jaselle! I’m not dealing with this bullshit again! Where’s the rest of it?”
“It’s gone. We smoked it.”
“Bullshit. Where’s the rest?”
“It’s seriously gone, dude,” I chime in, unsure if it really is or not.
“You shut the fuck up! I’m not talking to you right now.” The finger he has in my face comes back to life. I swat it away, unsure where my nerve is coming from.
“If you think you’re taking her to the gutter with you, you’re wrong. I’m not letting it happen, not in my house!”
“I got her high, Noah. Leave her alone,” Jaselle says.
He keeps yelling at me, his eyes bulging from their sockets. “You’re a piece of trash, trash from the alley.”
“Noah!” Jaselle tries to push him backward.
“You think you’re the first?”
“Get out!”
“You think you’re her first stray?” He’s laughing at me, finally allowing Jaselle to push him backward. “Hey, you enjoy that bed tonight, Savage. I know how hard you worked to get there. You enjoy my roof, but get the fuck out in the morning!”
Jaselle gives him one more shove and slams the door, holding it in place while the silence settles since it won’t latch anymore.
Her face is full of emotion, but I don’t know what to make of it. Truthfully, my head hurts just thinking about trying to figure out what just happened. All I know is I don’t like Noah. His rough grip on Jaselle’s slight wrists keeps replaying in my brain. The rest of it is already fading. Do I think I’m her first stray? That’s what he said, right? I don’t know, Noah, do you think you’re the first to call me trash?
Jaselle pulls her dresser over a few feet so it blocks the door. I hear the furious slams again and the helpless wood. I have no doubt Noah could get through if he wanted. But for now, at least it keeps the door closed, some weak attempt at security.
“Does he hit you?” I ask.
“Oh no,” she says sincerely. “Never. He’d never hurt me. He’s a good guy, underneath it all.”
I roll my eyes at the cliché. “You know he totally wants to fuck you, right?” I surprise myself with that one, but it’s already out, no sense backing off it now. Jaselle smiles, comes to the bed, and straddles me.
“Is that a little jealousy I hear?” She weaves her fingers through my hair and pulls, exposing my neck.
“No, definitely not.”
Her kisses trail down.
“Not jealousy,” I repeat.
“Play for me.”
“What?”
“Play the song. I want to hear it.” She pointedly breathes across my collarbone.
“You’re seducing me into playing it?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“I don’t think now is the best time,” I say.
She shrugs. “The door has a lock on it.”
“Yeah, ’cause that made a difference.”
“You scared?” She winks at me, so fast and nonchalant I’m not positive I saw it. It sends a ripple of warmth through me. I can’t say no to her, to that face. But he’s listening. They’re coming.
She pulls me to my feet and together we push the dresser aside again. Noah’s gone to his room, which means he can’t see down the hall, but the TV is off, so I’m terrified our steps are sounding through the entire place. She shuts the door to the piano room, locking us safely inside, semi-safely.
“I don’t know, Jaselle. Are you sure? It won’t get him going again?”
“Play. I want to hear. Fuck him. I don’t care.”
I wish I was so bold. I care a lot. The thought of him breaking through another door makes me want to hyperventilate.
“Rainn, he’s not going to do a goddamn thing. He’s all bark, promise.” She sits me down and rubs my shoulders. “Play. Please.”
I hold my shaking hands over the keys. I press the A, then jump back at the giant sound. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“I want your secrets,” she whispers in my ear. “Play like he isn’t here.”
I take a deep breath, remembering the notes before I begin. It’s been so long since I’ve played this, even in private. How can I be sharing it with her? It almost feels wrong, like it was never meant to be for anyone but Michael and me. But that’s all delusions. It had nothing to do with us. It was his, and I cling to it. That’s the end of it. He didn’t gi
ve it to me. And who am I to deny such beauty to the world?
I begin. At first, I’m timid, terrified of Noah, but gradually the song takes over. I’m lost in it, or death, or meth, something numb and quiet. It rolls through me, paralleling the waves of my high. It’s something searing hot, melting, slicing through me effortlessly.
It’s conquering me. I want to collapse under the memories. I’m outside myself, not playing anymore, but watching, watching like a ghost. I can see the steam coming off my back, my knuckles, my legs. Jaselle. Hear me, from somewhere outside of this. Hear me, from the black well that holds me under the earth. See me, even though these notes aren’t mine, could never be mine. Feel me, giving you everything. Not one secret, the only secret.
“You weren’t lying. That’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever heard,” Jaselle says from under the piano. When did she go there? I look under. She’s lying beneath the strings, stretched out on her back.
“What are you doing down there?” I can’t help but smile. She comes out and sits beside me on the bench.
“The sound is stronger down there. It grabs you, and there’s nothing else.”
I pull her to my mouth. It’s becoming so natural so fast to do that.
“Hey,” she says, waiting for me to stop.
I finally do. “Yeah?”
“I want you to have it,” she says.
“Have what?”
“The piano.”
My chest tightens. I can’t pinpoint which emotion does it exactly. “Absolutely not,” I say.
“Shut up. I mean it. I want you to have it.”
“Do you have any clue—”
“How much it’s worth? A lot more to you than to me. I won’t sell it. It was my grandma’s, so it’s not about money to me. I can’t play it. It’s just sitting here, alone in a room collecting dust. You play so beautifully. I think it was made for you. I’ve seen the way you dote on it.”
“But don’t you want it? If it was your grandma’s don’t you want to keep it? Even if all you ever do is look at it?”
“It should be played. You know that. You two are soul mates. Please.” She lowers her head on the please, revealing some underlying pain. “Please, accept it. I want you to have it.”
Shadows of a Dream Page 7
