Ivory White : A House of Misfits Standalone

by Cambria Hebert

  He went back to whatever he was doing.

  “My family is well acquainted with Ethan’s. It was proposed when we were just babies that we would get married when the time came.”

  Fletcher’s eyes widened. “Rich people don’t get to pick their own husbands?”

  I’d never heard it worded that way before, and the assumption stung… probably because I wondered if it was true.

  “Of course we do.”

  “So you like that guy?” Fletcher’s eyes went back to the television as though Ethan were still filling up the screen.

  My stomach tightened. As a husband? “Of course. He has many fine qualities.”

  Fletcher nodded, digging into the chips once more. “I’ve never seen anyone look like that before.”

  “Like what?”

  “Handsome. Like a prince.” The second the words left his mouth, a fine blush spread over his cheeks, turning them a light shade of pink. Avoiding my gaze, he shoved five chips into his mouth and chewed loudly.

  “You’re going to choke.” I scolded.

  A crumb fell from his lips, and Snort ate it.

  Across the room, I stopped at the side of Beau’s workstation, straightening my shoulders and reaching up to fix my hair before remembering it was half gone.

  “Excuse me,” I said after a moment of him not noticing I was there.

  Startled, Beau looked up, his green eyes going wide. Pushing one side of the headphones he was wearing off his ear, he met my gaze. “Yes?”

  “Can I borrow some money?”

  He started to choke on the air as if he couldn’t believe I was asking for money. I felt my cheeks heat, embarrassed. I’d never had to ask for money before.

  “Did I do it wrong?” I wondered aloud.

  He stopped coughing. “What?”

  “Asking for money, did I do it wrong? Is that not what you’re supposed to say?”

  Beau blinked. “Uhh…”

  “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t of utmost importance. And as you witnessed on the TV earlier, I am good for the money. I will be sure to pay you back. With interest.”

  Clearing his throat, Beau pulled off the headset completely. “How much do you need?”

  I frowned. “How much to do cleaning supplies cost?”

  “Cleaning supplies?” he echoed.

  “Oh! Do you have some here? I didn’t see any in the bathroom.” I couldn’t stop the small, indelicate shudder that went through me when I thought of my shower experience last night.

  “Uh, there is soap in the bathroom.”

  You mean to tell me they all shower with that one bar of soap and they clean with it too?

  Oh my. I would have to consult my physician when this was over. I might need an update on my tetanus shot.

  I held out my hand, palm up. “Twenty dollars? No, thirty. Make it thirty.”

  Beau reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash. It really amazed me that people carried cash around here. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw a five-dollar bill.

  “Thank you!” I beamed, leaning down to peck a short kiss to his cheek.

  His face turned nearly as red as his hair. “N-no problem.”

  “There’s a small market down on the corner?” I verified, remembering Neo mentioning it when Fletcher went to get bandages.

  Beau nodded.

  I went into the tiny, grimy bathroom and reluctantly put on my leggings and shirt from yesterday. It was too cold outside to wear the oversized shorts Neo had given me. It was also a fashion tragedy.

  When it came time to put on my jacket, I hesitated long enough to notice what I was doing. I didn’t want that jacket.

  It held bad memories. The fabric was ruined. It wasn’t warm enough.

  Someone might recognize me if I wandered around in designer clothing.

  Dropping the jacket, I pulled the red plaid flannel around me, buttoning it up over my outfit. It could also be considered a fashion tragedy… but strangely, I didn’t care.

  Beau looked up when I approached him again. His headphones were still not back over his ears.

  Smiling sweetly, I said, “Could I borrow a hat?”

  Saying nothing, Beau reached under the desk to pull out a black baseball cap.

  I put it on my head, adjusting the thingy at the back so it was tighter. “You really are the nice one.”

  He blushed again.

  “I’ll be right back,” I called out, going to the door.

  “You’re leaving?” Fletcher exclaimed.

  “Just going to the corner store. Will you leave the door unlocked for me?”

  Both boys nodded mutely, shocked as if they’d never seen anyone go to the store before. I waved and let myself out of the apartment.

  Outside in the quiet solitude of the hallway, I sagged against the door. My limbs felt weak, my hands trembled, and every thought I had seemed sluggish. I wasn’t used to feeling this way… so out of sorts.

  The news this morning had shaken me, leaving me even more confused than I already was. Everyone thought I was dead. They didn’t even have a body, and they all just wanted to assume the worst.

  Almost like they hope it is true.

  And Neo… he just walked out. And when he’d gone, I’d felt…

  No.

  I cut off the feelings and thoughts completely. I didn’t have time for this. I had to think. Plan. Decide what to do.

  I could simply get a cab and go straight home. Let everyone know I was very much alive and breathing. That would be the easiest thing to do.

  But would it be the smartest?

  Trust no one.

  I could not unhear the ominous truth in those words.

  Pushing off the door, I left, going down the stairs, bypassing the entrance to Earth’s bar, and stepping out onto the sidewalk.

  The sky was gray and moody, still recovering from the storms that shook the earth all last night. Just thinking of them and seeing the way the clouds still lightly churned made an uncomfortable feeling worm around inside me.

  Picking up my pace a little didn’t help. I couldn’t outrun what was inside me, but I was going to try anyway.

  The street was narrow, dirty, and grim.

  Most people don’t ever get out of the Grimms. The whispered words last night haunted me, following me down the street like an invisible ghost. Something unforgiving and hard jammed into my shoulder, knocking me sideways.

  “Ah!” I gasped, righting myself and looking up. A man probably twice my size, dressed in black with a matching cap pulled low on his head, glared even as he kept plowing down the street.

  “Watch where you’re going!” he growled, stomping away.

  “But you ran into me!” I spoke indignantly.

  His stomping paused briefly, and I scurried away because he wasn’t someone I really wanted to speak with.

  The corner store looked menacing as it loomed ahead. It was small and seedy-looking, the green paint around the windows and doorframe faded and chipping. The sign on the door was handwritten: Corner Store.

  Not very original, but I supposed it was accurate.

  The lighting inside seemed dim and kinda yellow, and my stomach twisted a little. Wind blew, brushing against my neck and making me shiver. When I flipped up the collar of the flannel, the edges brushed against my cheek, and a faintly familiar scent washed over me.

  Some of the anxiousness making my fingers tremble relaxed, and just that little bit of release gave me so much relief tears sprang to the backs of my eyes.

  Sniffling, I ducked farther into the shirt and tugged the hat down over my forehead.

  The door to the place swung out, making me fall backward.

  “If you aren’t coming in, don’t stand in the doorway,” some woman snapped on her way out.

  “Excuse me.” I apologized, scrambling back up to grab the dirty handle before the door could close completely.

  Inside the tiny box wasn’t much warmer than the street, but the wind didn’t blow in t
here. The aisles were narrow and crowded, but it seemed they had the things I was looking for. Letting the oversized flannel fall over my hands, I grabbed up a shopping basket and used Neo’s shirt as a barrier between my skin and the handle.

  Neo’s shirt.

  The scent that calmed me just moments before… it was his.

  Squeaaak. My sneakers made a loud sound when I stopped abruptly in the center of the aisle, my arm dropping on its way to a bottle of cleaner.

  He’d just left before. He didn’t even say good-bye. I might not ever see him again.

  He held my hand last night.

  Somehow his scent had become a relief to me. Even in this strange and scary place, he’d become somewhat of a comfort.

  More tears threatened the backs of my eyes, and I blinked them away.

  Of course he was a comfort. He helped you when you had nowhere to go. It was perfectly natural to be grateful. Not just to Neo, to all of them.

  Well, except maybe Earth.

  That was why I was here. The reminder served to get me moving again, selecting some cleaning supplies, actual soap, and shampoo, and since I could, I splurged on new toothbrushes and this pack of plastic cups in several colors.

  I knew I couldn’t stay there any longer, that I was going to have to figure out my next move fast. But I could think and clean at the same time, right?

  Cleaning couldn’t be that hard, could it?

  And then I would leave those five grumpy misfits with a clean apartment. An appropriate thank-you for what they had done.

  20

  Neo

  * * *

  Sounds of the city were so common to me that I almost didn’t notice it anymore. Unless, of course, when I used it to my advantage.

  Bumper-to-bumper traffic echoed between the tall, crowded buildings. Honking horns, revving engines, and crowds of people on the sidewalks all created a cacophony of noise unique to New York City. Scents of frying meat, roasting chestnuts, and coffee mingled in the constantly moving air. Steam rose from grates along the sidewalks, creating random puffs of clouds, and loud clattering floated from the side streets where workers unloaded supplies from trucks.

  As if the scents and sounds weren’t enough to bombard the senses, the visual distractions were also everywhere. Huge billboards blinked with animations and rotating pictures. Flashing banners and advertisements vied for attention nearly every few feet. People crossed the busy streets, moving in and out of stores and shops, barely watching where they were going.

  It was all too easy for someone like me to pick out the tourists. They walked almost starstruck as if trying to decide where to focus their attention and failing to put it any one place, which resulted in them being half present at every given moment.

  They walked less brusquely, with less purpose, as they tried to figure out where to go and what to see.

  These people were ripe for the plucking. Perfect targets, perfect opportunities to remind myself exactly who I was and who I would never be.

  Slam.

  “Oh!” someone gasped.

  I pulled back from my accidental run-in with a woman who was staring up at a giant M&M advertisement and not paying attention at all to who was around her. My hands went automatically to her waist, steadying her as any gentleman should.

  “I’m sorry. Are you all right?” I asked, offering a worried smile.

  She blinked. “Oh, I’m the one who’s sorry. I ran right into you!”

  “It’s all right. Happens a lot.” I smiled, the beanie on my head sinking a little lower above my brows.

  “Oh.” She paused, then remembered she was speaking. “Yes, well, there is so much to see.”

  “Well, as long as you’re okay?”

  She nodded, and I slipped into the crowd, crossing the street.

  I wondered how long it would take her to notice the cash in her pocket was gone. It didn’t really matter because I was already long gone too.

  “Want me to take that photo for you?” I asked on the opposite side of the street. A man was taking a photo of who I assumed was his girlfriend as she posed in front of Radio City Music Hall.

  “Thanks, man,” the dude said, handing over his camera and rushing to get into the frame.

  I took a couple photos, then returned the camera, walking away with my pocket a little heavier than before.

  I went on like this for a while, choosing my marks, lightening their cash supply without them even realizing. When I felt it was time to move on, I headed in a direction I never went but didn’t stop to question my motives.

  I rarely came this far uptown, but I made it worth my while.

  After making another pile of cash in Manhattan, my stomach reminded me I was running on empty. Grabbing a coffee and a hot dog from a nearby stand, I turned the corner, and all of a sudden, my location slammed me hard.

  Tall trees rose up in the middle of the cityscape, grass and sidewalks where buildings might have stood.

  I had come all the way to Central Park.

  I stood there dumbly like one of the clueless tourists I’d just spent hours robbing blind until the clop-clopping of a horse-drawn carriage got too close and snapped me out of the trance I’d slipped into.

  Hurrying across the street, I entered the park, eyes fixating on a woman jogging along a path.

  All the work I’d done the past few hours to forget her vanished. Hell, I might even believe none of it ever happened if I didn’t have a fat pile of cash in my pockets to prove it.

  Cash that suddenly felt heavy and… dirty.

  This is who you are. I reminded myself. An urban thief standing in the center of a majestic scene.

  Earth’s words taunted as I stood and stared. You’re from two different worlds.

  He was right.

  I hated him for it.

  I thought to run and flee but instead walked farther beneath the trees, letting them fold me closer, their welcome offering some sort of relief.

  I realized all the running I’d been doing all day, all the stealing, all the reminding myself of where I belonged had only been a distraction.

  Under my skin still burned, a tight knot fisted in my stomach, and now there was an unmistakable ache in the center of my chest. How ironic that I’d run out of the apartment, hell, out of the Grimms, trying to put distance between her and me, and where did I run?

  To her world.

  Anger, swift and pungent, consumed me, offering relief from the host of other ailments I’d been living with since that storybook princess walked into my life.

  How could I let this happen? How could one woman—a devastatingly beautiful one—twist me up so tight in barely two days?

  I knew better than this. There was no place for her in my world, and there was no place in her world for me. We were completely different, incompatible. She was snobby, naïve, spoiled, and couldn’t function without people hovering around her, offering help.

  I was a conman, a liar, and loyal to a select few. My world was gritty, and the only color I knew was the color that came from the spray-paint I illegally blasted all over public and private property. Everything else was black and white.

  How dare she show up with those red lips and sapphire eyes?

  How dare she make me feel like black and white was suddenly not enough? That I was not enough.

  Self-doubt was something that plagued me. It had ever since that day. I understood who I was and who I would never be. I knew my place.

  I accepted it.

  Being here now, gazing around at her world, it all unleashed. Feelings I thought I accepted bubbled up, spilled out, and made me feel like shit.

  I knew I was a liar. But I never knew I’d been lying to myself, too.

  Tossing my leftover food and drink into a nearby wastebasket, I headed for the exit. The very same trees that had welcomed me moments ago suddenly felt menacing, and oddly, it was as if I could hear the echo of their laughter.

  You don’t belong here.

  Out on the street,
another horse-drawn carriage rode by. The couple perched in the red velvet seat had a blanket over their lap and smiles on their faces.

  I spun away, colliding with a man who was walking by.

  “Hey!” he grumped, his body bouncing off mine. His angry eyes flashed to mine, and whatever he saw in my face melted the expression off his.

  Ducking his head, he muttered an apology and went on with his life.

  A cold wind blew, reaching to the edges of the park, trying to grab me with its icy, stiff fingers. My anger was still burning too hot, my emotions so raw. I let it try to grab me, the pricks of its clutches failing to pull me back.

  On the corner, a man stood on his cell phone, not paying attention to anything around him. I ran into him harder than I needed to, the collision somehow giving me satisfaction. He stumbled forward, dropping his phone on the pavement.

  “Hey!” he roared, spinning around.

  I’d already emptied his pockets and slid the contents into mine.

  He charged me, and I shoved him back. The sudden onslaught of his fist did not catch me off guard. My body dipped, skating beneath the intended punch before straightening with a smug smirk.

  “Son of a bitch!” I could still hear him yelling when I made it across the street.

  The next corner over was filled with vendors and people standing around buying hats and bags that were knockoffs of the real thing Ivory White probably had stuffed in her closet.

  More anger licked my guts, making my feet and fingers tingle.

  Practically looking for a fight, I shoved through the people and deliberately plucked a wad of cash out of a man’s hand as he extended it to a vendor.

  “Hey!” he said, indignant.

  I smirked and grabbed the rest of the cash sticking out of his pocket. The man’s nostrils flared, and his eyes became narrow slits.

  Slap, slap, slap. My sneakers pounded the pavement when I took off. His shoes were equally loud as he gave chase.

  “Stop!” he roared. “I’m gonna kick your ass!”

  “Gotta catch me first,” I yelled over my shoulder, feeling the rush of adrenaline flood my veins.

  A group of women stumbled out of a shop ahead, filling the walkway with obstacles. I plowed right into the center, grabbing one by the shoulders, doing a full one-eighty.