Chapter Two
The only late study group I found, that meets each week night, is located at a Hookah lounge. Although I dislike the idea of studying in a smoke-filled environment, I more dislike the idea of failing and repeating classes.
When I entered the lounge at 10:30 p.m. on a Tuesday night, I was astonished by the number of students. They were equally divided between tables and comfy-looking couches. Most were hitting the Hookah, but some were hitting the books. The lounge was buzzing with voices and filled with various aromas. One of those familiar smells could land us, collectively in a jail cell.
Fortunately, I just turned in my two-week notice at work. Otherwise, I would have been worried about failing their random drug screen. My manager was frustrated by my unanticipated announcement. The guilt trip she sent me on was lengthy. I would have packed a bag if I had known it was going to be an hour long misadventure.
Quitting was actually a spontaneous decision. I used to enjoy having extra money for frivolous items, concerts, movies, etc. But, sleeping has become a coveted luxury in my otherwise, insane life. Fun and fun-money slid off the priority scale when it hit me that I could re-acquire 20-30 hours of my week by resigning.
The late night study group was more diverse than I expected. So, I mentally mapped my first night area. My g-mom believes in working a crowd. Even though she knew how vast my social circle was in high school, she was concerned because I had (in her perception, at least) limited myself to the familiar. In her view, familiarity breeds contempt only because those who remain stationary lose touch with their many other fascinating options.
Her words echoed through my mind and I finally broke down. Texting her with a secured message, I said, “I love you…” in English, Ava’shay, Tarrish and Vaydem.
The Ava’shay Command’s Communication’s Post sent me back a reply.
Miss Elizabeth is on an ‘outing’ with Reigning High Lady Arroway-Quinton. Ranging is spotty in their locale. Your message will be forwarded, posthaste and delivered at the first available opportunity. May I be of any further assistance?
Smiling at my phone, my g-mom and Grandma Edie are off on an adventure. I responded with…please forward a copy of this message to my Grandma Edie, too. Then, I typed in…Thankies Command, keep it real until next we text.
I hit send and laughed, hysterically. The smoke is already starting to takeover…
Much to my g-mom’s chagrin (if she were here and knew about my selection, that is), I landed at a table of football jocks. They were all high as kites and on the team’s third string. So, my break-up with Stick didn’t even register.
Somehow, I managed to finish my assignment and socialize with them, simultaneously. We discussed upcoming games – which cheerleaders on my squad are worth scoring down (whatever that means) and which professors blow. There is some type of blow-down scoring system for the professors too, but how the players’ rate them got lost in translation.
When 2 a.m. rolled around, I had actually accomplished something. I was also awake to appreciate my conquest.
The next night my football players had swelled to ten members. They called me over and I did socialize with them for a bit. But soon, I started scouting for a new set of study buddies. My g-mom has an uncanny ability to discover what I’m up to, even when she is out of cell range. Fearing the accompanying sermon, I wandered over to a large circular couch.
“Hi, mind if I join?” I asked.
“All are welcome…” the glassy-eyed female replied.
“Here…” the guy sitting beside her offered me his pipe.
“Thanks…maybe, later…” I told him and he shrugged in disinterest.
I would eventually secure everyone’s name around the cushion. One girl, who introduced herself as Audrey, seemed familiar. A long, but casual investigation revealed no common interests. She had never even heard of the Java Den.
Once again, I mingled, stayed alert and made it to the last chapter of my book. Within three days, I had met all the regulars. The hodgepodge collection of students included honors students, jocks, young mainstream Americans and burn-outs. We all happily co-exist in this unique environment.
The team’s first away game was played on Saturday evening. Oddly enough, I was longing to see my lounge of fun-loving misfit study buddies while I was cheering. Between missing my family and being out of my new late night routine, I was already struggling. Then, Lyle hunted me down like a predator after the first quarter and half-asked/half-bullied me into riding back to campus with him. Wishing I had driven my own car instead of catching a ride, I hesitantly accepted his offer. Maybe, he will be more understanding of my decision if I explain the reasons for ending it.
Cheering in the fourth quarter of our winning game, the butterflies in my stomach seemed to be offering a warning. I was considering how to get out of riding home with Lyle when the perfect excuses found me.
“I’m not sure how I feel about a little slip of a boy catching my beautiful and only Bunny Baby…”
She had slipped up behind me…as usual. I closed my eyes, fighting back the tears.
“Lizzy, you and I have differing opinions on what constitutes a ‘little slip’. That young fellow must weigh two hundred and…”
“Edie, that boy would have to be the size of a baby elephant before I’d willingly trust him to be used as Krista’s landing gear. She had to be three stories up when they tossed her higher…”
Smiling widely, I listened to my g-mom and Grandma Edie banter about the dangerous stunt I just completed.
I planned to reveal that I had been secretly fattening up, Jarron (my spotter), so he could gain his baby elephant status. But, my emotions overwhelmed me when I saw them. Gathering them both in a death-grip, I started sobbing.
“Sshhh…no need to be troubled over your spotter’s safety. We haven’t been hunting baby elephants for sport in quite a while,” Grandma Edie declared, humorously in between her kisses. “Now, now, sweetie girl…you’re smearing.”
“See Edie, I told you this would happen if we didn’t wait to see her until the time stopped ticking!” my g-mom exclaimed, attempting to shift the blame.
“That’s an interesting accusation. I seem to remember it happening the other way around – as in me, trying to convince you that we should wait until that skinny boy tossed his toy ball or gave it away for the last time before we rushed to the painted grass. So, impatient…that’s what you are.
“And, aren’t you the one that grabbed “grumpy old striped shirt man” from behind and told him to blow his dinky whistle?? We had a better shot of convincing him to end this game early, if we knew the team’s animals. We could’ve said, blow that dinky whistle and announce the Bengal Bobcats the losers. How can Striped Shirt take us seriously, when you demand that he declare the “Purple Pajama Boys” the winner??” Grandma Edie questioned.
“Well, Purple Pajama Boys is more ladylike than what you were going to call them…” my g-mom responded.
I realize they are using a comical distraction in an effort to calm me down – and, it’s working. My squad looked on with a mixture of humor and astonishment. There is no explaining away the actions of my g-mom and Grandma Edie. So, I (and every other cheerleader on the team) ended up winded as we succumbed to the hysterics.
Grumpy old Striped Shirt did not comply and end the game as they ordered. How he survived that denial is beyond me. The referee, named Pete, did courageously approach my g-mom after it was over and ask her for her number.
“I’m only willing to part with it, if you are willing to admit the Blue Pajama Boys never had a chance…” she told him.
“I’m only allowed to call the plays I see when I’m reffing…” he replied, red-faced.
“Well, perhaps you can explain why you blow your whistle and make a loud fussing announcement to the crowd when those young fellows do something you don’t like. One corrective measure should be sufficient.
My g-mom loves attending live sporting events (and meeting players in filled locker rooms), but she had never taken an interest in learning anything about the actual sports. I offered to fill her in on the general rules of football when I started cheerleading.
She responded with, “No need, Bunny Baby. It’s not necessary to being a spectator.”
Knowing her, she will accept Pete’s date and will never discover that he is called a “referee” and not a “Reffing”. I bet the word ‘football’ will never be uttered either.
I asked g-mom and grandma to wait with my squad while I quickly searched for Lyle. He was soaked in Gatorade by the time I discovered his whereabouts. A glance over my shoulder revealed my team, eyes wide and mouths covered. I need to hurry before they get scarred for life…
“Sorry, my family decided to pay me a surprise visit. Can we go out for coffee, tomorrow?” I apologized and asked.
“Depends…can you fit me in??” he questioned, sarcastically.
“I’ll work it out…let’s say 3ish…at the Den. Oh, great game…congrats on the win!” I offered without waiting for him to answer.
I scheduled it in my calendar before we went out for a late night dinner. They kept me in stitches and I caught them up on my life.
“When was the last time you ate?” my g-mom inquired.
“Earlier today…”
“When was the last time you ate a meal?” Grandma Edie asked the more specific and dreaded question.
“Can I count this one??” I responded, deflecting.
“So, we have our answer…” Grandma Edie perceptively stated.
“My schedule has taken over, lately. But, you’ll both be pleased to know I turned in my notice at the Den. And, I dropped one of my majors to a minor. See, I’m getting it back together…” I told them.
Even though I wanted to put down my fork to help further relieve their anxiety, I couldn’t get my growling stomach to cooperate. Inhaling food like eating was going out of style, I made a mental note that a handful of Goldfish crackers does not a meal, make.
“When I finish, can we go dancing…drinking…wherever?” I questioned in between bites.
I had a few reasons for making my unexpected request. I wanted to extend our time together. A subject change is necessary because they will freak if they discover what my current life involves. In order to sidetrack them, I need the request to be something uncharacteristic for me and appealing to them. And finally, I have been craving an adventure…my life has become too predictable.
“We’ve got other plans on the agenda for us, this evening…” my g-mom revealed, looking impish.
“Other plans, indeedy…” Grandma Edie agreed with a wink. “By the way, I notice you don’t have on your jewelry.”
“Cheering and blingage doesn’t mix. My bracelets would cause a mid-air catastrophe because Jarron couldn’t get a grip on my wrists…”
“Surely you’re not going to tell me that young man grabs you around the throat for a stunt…” my g-mom said…her way of mentioning my absent charm necklace.
“Now g-mom, don’t be ridiculous. I made him give up manual strangulation when he asked to be my personal baby elephant. I refused to run the risk of being trampled and choked, simultaneously…
“I can’t wear my necklace because the charms tend to smack me in the face when I’m upside-down and airborne. They’re all locked in my safe at home. So, why are you both asking?”
“It has something to do with our plans for the evening…” Grandma Edie revealed.
“If we’re going gypsy shopping in a locked jewelry store, I need to change out of this flashy outfit. A running escape from unexpected uniformed company is pointless when a glitter trail’s involved…” I told them, comically.
After our meal, Grandma Edie called the Portaling Master at Ava’shay Command. Evidently, she had our trip pre-arranged because we landed in an unknown place of business. The receptionist who greeted us was dressed in a wild costume. Or, she might be clothed in the most mundane outfit her realm has to offer, if we happened to be located, other-worldly.
“Mind your P’s and Q’s, Bunny Baby,” my g-mom reminded me.
The lobby had bright red furniture and pictures of buxom, scantily clad Amazons. Some were slaying Titans with swords and some were actively seducing them. I felt my cheeks get warm just looking at the prints. I glanced at g-mom and Grandma Edie.
They were filling out forms. So, I wandered around and attempted to fill in the blanks without interrupting them with questions.
What is this place?
“I’ll need her signature if you want to take her back…” Vampirex stated, removing all but one form and handed them back the clipboard.
“Here, sweetie girl…scratch out your Jane Hancock and let’s get on with our adventure,” my Grandma Edie said, offering me the pen.
The excitement was building when I read the form. It stated: I, (insert your name), attest that I am of appropriate maturity to partake in all endeavors inside the walls of “Man’s Fall to Ruin”. Voluntary avail into the inner domain means waiving my rights to seek redress in all instances.
The three of them looked at me, impatiently. It was very apparent that no one is going to clue me in on what’s about to happen. I scribbled my name and handed the clipboard back to Vampirex. I hope I didn’t just sign my life away…
The receptionist deposited the papers into something that looked like a bank slot and pointed us to the metal vault door.
“Here’s your passcode. Hotsie, will meet you on the other side. Enjoy your visit and stay as long as you like,” Vampirex stated as she unlocked the steel vault door and pointed us inside.
“Select an outfit and a mask. Those must be worn for the duration, as our guests seek anonymity. Should you be asked to reveal your name during this upcoming journey, we request that you re-create yourself, by choosing a moniker that best fits your personality. Real names and identities are not allowed to be voiced once inside the Sanctorium. Failure to comply meets in ejection from the premises…” Hotsie read the rules while we changed into our costumes.
I chose the name, Mystery because I didn’t have a clue about where we are and/or what we are doing. My g-mom chose the name, Timeless and Grandma Edie selected, Eternity. They ordered me a glass of champagne.
“You know my allergy to that stuff remains unchanged since our European jaunt, my dear Timeless…” I reminded her.
“You’ll thank us for further contributing to your delinquency, momentarily. Here, we’ll switch. Drink up, while we select a color for the art,” Eternity told me.
The drink she handed me was a glowing purple beverage named Risqué Smash that tasted suspiciously similar to an ordinary daiquiri.
The best I could figure, after conducting my room-to-room investigation, is this is a role-playing club for wanna-be underworld dwellers. My investigation was rapid, so I might be slightly off in my assessment. Certain rooms I had to vacate more expeditiously than others. While no man ended up dead by the sword, some of the Titans were letting Amazons try their hand at seduction. And, not all the costumes are made the same. Some lack in areas that are normally covered.
This place is over-the-top, even for my adventurous g-mom!
“Are you sure you want Egyptian hieroglyphs? We’ve still got time to switch to Aramaic…” my g-mom questioned Grandma Edie.
“We agreed, earthbound and pyramids,” she replied.
“Alrighty, then…comon’ Mystery Bunny…let’s get this show on the road,” my g-mom told me without the slightest hint of appre
hension.
“Dare I ask about this show??” I whispered to Grandma Edie.
Neither one answered my inquiry. So, I held my breath and followed them.
The venue was a walk-thru drama. The writer was obviously shooting for dark and enigmatic, but the only real way to describe it was murky and perplexing. The actors had thick New York accents, leaving little question about where we are currently located. Otherwise, I was clueless.
The other people in our group surrounded one of the stars and begged for autographs.
“Is it over??” I quietly asked g-mom with serious reservations.
“Certainly…and, certainly not…” she offhandedly commented as she walked away.
“Ahhh…well, okay…bye,” I responded – evidently, I am left guessing.
“Timeless, you can’t just leave our beautiful girl hangin’. I’ll explain…certainly means, the play has indeed, ended. Don’t ask us to tell you what happened because we’re just as stumped by that pseudo-performance as you are. I think someone said it’s called Visionary Vanguard Integrative Dramatics, but it’s awful. Don’t let those people back there fool you with their photograph taking or swooning over that “actor”. They don’t get what happened either. They just like to live in the moment and New Yorkers’ get bored, easily.
“Okay, where was I? Oh yeah certainly not means, the play wasn’t the real reason we came here. Everyone who wants to see the artistry craftsman has to survive through that play/fantasy/bore-fest…call it what you will.
“I guess artistry master High and Haughty gets a kickback…” Grandma Edie explained part of it while simultaneously, confusing me further.
“And Eternity, I wasn’t going to leave her blowing in the wind! They asked for feedback and badly needed it. Oh, I signed another waiver for all of us too. They were demanding to see Mystery’s I.D. because she looks underage. It’s not readily available. And, we are not trekking through, whatever that was again, to get back here.
“Mystery, Sir Absalom, the artistry craftsman who we are getting ready to see, is a renowned body modifier. Eternity and I are going to get one piercing and you will be getting two. We decided earlier, that you could choose the modification location and we would get ours in the same place.
“Once that’s done, we are all getting small, matching tattoos. These are designed to scroll around the piercings. So, keep that in mind when you choose the location.
“I’m not even going to suggest getting the one on your shoulder redone, because I know how attached you are. But, the offer is still open. I will be happy to expose mine and you can have an identical one placed on the other side…” my g-mom stated.
“No, I’ll keep what I’ve got…” I told her.
“You might not be a blood gypsy, but your spirit is a different story. Tried and tried to tell Timeless, us Ay’sha girls form lifelong sentimental attachments,” Grandma Edie interjected with a snicker.
The artistry master looked nothing like I envisioned. He didn’t have a single visible body modification of his own. He was short and mousy with a thin, handlebar mustache. His costume was indescribable. I couldn’t place his accent because it turned out to be completely phony.
My g-mom removed a small, ceremonial wooden box from her pocket. It held four hoop rings filled with glowing mist. The mist looks similar to the duck charm Zander gave me a long time ago that has his spiritual essence encased inside it.
As a rule, it’s dangerous to wear jewelry while cheerleading. Two naval rings should be alright. However, a new piercing requires time to heal and has to stay in place.
“Excuse me, Sir Absalom, might I trouble you with a question?” I asked with a bogus accent of my own that made g-mom and grandma double-over laughing.
“Proceed at your peril, child…” he replied suspiciously, still worried about my age.
“I stand before you an adult in my mid-twenties and wish to inquire about my piercing alterations. Will the holes maintain their integrity if removed for a scant, few hours?” I managed to speak the snooty question before having to muffle my snickers.
“Your dual piercings must remain affixed, until the grave takes its claim! I refuse to craft a piece of artwork if your intention is to defile it on a girlish whim! Would you remove the smile from the Mona Lisa for a “scant”, anything??” Sir Absalom shouted.
My Grandma Edie intervened and worked her magic to calm him down while my g-mom pulled me to the side for a private discussion.
“You know what’s inside the hoops, right? They need to stay in place, always. The tattoos Edie and I are getting say ‘sister infinite’…fairly self-explanatory. Yours will bear runic symbols of the Vaydem and gypsy persuasions. I’m not sure on the exact wordings, but Zander’s spiritual essence is needed to power them…if you get my drift. The hoops were his idea. He wouldn’t even share what’s in the extra one. He just made us swear that we would get you to wear them.
“I know you can’t accessorize with dangling bobbles when those kids are tossing you in the air. And, while we’re on the topic…honestly, I didn’t realize the ten years of gymnastics’ lessons I manipulated you into taking would be used as a coronary weapon against me. So, this cheering is how you choose to rebel, huh??
“And yes, I still remember the great pink tutu debate when you were four. You warned me that you only wanted to take ballet dancies with the pretty frwilly-willy skirt…not ‘bat and twirlies’ lessons and certainly not ‘gym-nasty-ickys’ lessons. And here, I thought we had reached a fair compromise, back then. If you only knew how many arguments I waged and bribes I paid before your baton teacher and your gymnastics instructor finally gave in and allowed you to wear that tutu in their classes, you would be ashamed for that attempt on my life, earlier in the day. I couldn’t find a karate instructor in all of Western North Carolina that would permit you to wear the tutu or you would have a black belt to match.
“But then again, you would be cracking through cinderblocks with your head…instead of letting a pack of skinny sparkle-eyed co-eds toss your body around like it’s stuffed with cotton. Well, a fractured skull is a fractured skull either way I suppose…
“You and I will soon be having a powwow about this heart attack weapon you snuck in on me. I still can’t believe that hazardous sport you participate in is called something as benign as “cheerleading”. What happened to “rah, rah’s” and fluffy pompoms?? The most dangerous move any cheerleader ever made in my day was a round-off, landing in a split.
“Why, even those boys wearing pajamas to play that ballgame have on helmets. Your team wears mid-rifts, braids and smiles! Pearly whites will not protect brain-buckets, Bunny Baby of mine!
“That conversation is headed your way, soon. But, your Grandma Eternity has the artistry master eating out of the palm of her hand. So, he’s about ready to start.
“I need you to get these piercings and a new tattoo for me…it’s a personal favor. They will give me comfort during my other-worldly jaunts. Or, I can move back to earth’s realm, where you have quick access to me…” my g-mom whispered.
“First, I don’t cheer to be rebellious. You remembered the debate, but you must’ve forgotten how popular that tutu made me with all the other preschoolers in gymnastics classes. They got to wear one, too.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, today. I would’ve prepared you and Grandma Eternity for the stunts, if I only knew you were coming.
“Second, who needs karate with three big brothers to educate me in the art of deadly self-defense? Jaysen taught me one simple move, specifically designed to fully incapacitate any black-belted attacker, no matter which of the martial arts he happens to practice.
“Third and most importantly, I want you to jaunt around, make mischief, have romantic dinners with daring football referees and experience all the inner and/or outer realm breaking and entering your healthy, worry-free heart can tolerate. Once I have my college degree in hand, I pla
n on rejoining you and our hedonistic adventures will resume full-swing.
“So, two body piercings and a tattoo are all I need to give you that freedom to live your life until I’m back in your sight; then, I say, bring it on! I’ll even trek through that horrible play-type-thing again, to get my I.D., if necessary – wouldn’t want the mousy master to ink me with a nervous, shaky hand…” I revealed.
Double Fated (Book One) Page 2
