by Ruby Dixon
"And I'm ready to talk about my adventure," I tell them all.
23
RAVEN
I put my bowl aside and sip the shrimp tea, loving the spicy taste and the warmth of it. I love U'dron's tail wrapped around my ankle, and I lean against him as I begin to talk. Everyone quiets down, ready for a tale, and I have to admit I love an audience. I've always loved performing, and telling a story gives me the same thrill that dancing—or singing—does. It's easy to slide into being old Raven, and I know I'm not being “myself” exactly when I speak. There's time enough for that later.
For now, I tell them all about how I saw footprints on the beach and went after them. How I passed out in a tide cave—I neatly gloss over the fact that Juth probably drugged me to steal me away as a bargaining tool—and woke up to meet Juth and Pak. I describe them and immediately, the island clans are uneasy.
"Outcast clan," J'shel says with a sour expression. "Why do they survive and Long Tail did not?"
"They're people," I reply easily. I launch back into my story, talking about cute little Pak and how determined he was to feed me. How Juth stuck to the rules of outcast clan even though the rest of the clan was long gone. I talk of making fire and having it put out again and shivering on the beach.
I talk about U'dron's heroic rescue, and I probably play it up a little and make it sound far more dramatic than it was. I want them all to be as proud of U'dron as I am. No one has ever, ever come for me before, and it's not something I'm going to forget, ever. As long as I live, I'm going to have the sight of U'dron surging into the water after me and fighting Juth to claim me. Even now, it makes me squirm with giddy glee…and just a hint of arousal. I never knew being rescued was such a damn turn on.
"Juth is a wily one," U'dron says, taking up the reins of my story when I pause. "He claimed the law of the beach and said that R'ven was his since he had found her." He pauses for dramatic effect and lets a low murmur ripple through the group before raising a hand to continue the story. Normally I'd be annoyed at having my story taken over, but U'dron continuing the tale feels as natural as can be. I don't mind sharing my audience with him, and I love hearing him tell it from his perspective. "Once I knew he looked at her as something to be bargained over and that he had not hurt her, we haggled. His thought was for supplies for himself and his son."
"Tell us about the boy," Harlow says, hugging her son Rukhar against her. "Was he very little?"
"Older than Z'hren, but younger than your R'khar," U'dron continues. "A smart, clever boy, too. As ferocious as his father, and a good hunter. R'ven says he caught many of the things you call 'spag-hee mon-starr' and fed her."
"Spaghetti monster," I murmur, patting his knee.
"He is born of outcast clan, then? There have been no young passed to them for the last ten turns of the seasons," I'rec points out, his arms crossed over his chest.
U'dron nods. "I think so. He and Juth knew each other well, but Juth was not his father in anything other than name. I think perhaps they are the last two survivors and Juth is caring for him." Despite the interruptions, U'dron picks up the story again, embellishing the rounds of haggling he went through with Juth in order to settle on supplies in exchange for me. He builds the story seamlessly, and I'm fascinated by the smooth tone of his voice, the way he makes it all sound so very exciting and dangerous. He talks of us sleeping and waking up the next morning to find Juth and Pak gone, all of our supplies stolen. He glosses over our interrupted make-out sessions and talks of the hairy lobster migration instead, which makes more than one person squeal in disgust. I admit I shudder thinking about them again.
And he finally concludes with bringing our raft to the shore, led by the distant light of the fire.
Everyone sighs with pleasure when he concludes the story, and Sam claps appreciatively. Steph looks thoughtful, raising her hand and speaking up. "Do you think their culture forbids them from joining us? Or do you think there's a different reason that they left?"
U'dron shrugs. "He is outcast. He will not see himself as welcome."
"Then we need to make them welcome," Raahosh says, and his mate nods. "All survivors are welcome. I do not care what clan they are from. We are all Icehome now."
There are several murmurs of appreciation at that, but I can't help but notice that Shadow Cat remains silent. Of all the clans, they haven't exactly been bending over backward to integrate, and I know some of that is resentment over the fact that everyone seems to have resonated but them.
Well, they're just gonna have to cope.
"We're so glad you're safe and sound, Raven, and no one tried any funny business with you." Liz shoots a dirty look over at M'tok and S'bren. M'tok coughs and averts his gaze, while S'bren looks abashed. "All's well that ends well," Liz continues. "I'm just happy you're back and we don't have to go kick some asses."
I smile at her. "Thank you. I'm happy to be back. It's all thanks to U'dron." I keep my hand on his knee and I squeeze it. Telling the story has made me all ramped up with appreciation for my rescuer again, and I'm looking forward to having privacy so I can tackle him into the furs again. I notice I'rec is watching my hand on U'dron's leg and so I deliberately rub U'dron a little higher, just to make I'rec stew.
U'dron covers my hand with his, a soft noise in his throat. "Not here."
Right, right.
"This must have been so frightening for you, Raven." Gail hugs her son close and glances at Vaza. "I'm not sure how I feel about someone lurking near the camp that won't introduce themselves."
"I'd actually like to help," Steph says, speaking up again. "I want to help put the supplies out for Juth and his son. Maybe we can work on building a rapport with them." Her eyes shine with excitement. "We need to create an environment of trust. Can I come with you in the morning when you put out supplies, U'dron?"
For a moment, my jealousy flares. Steph's so smart compared to me. But I remind myself that U'dron came after me, that he likes me, and my silly jealousy fades. Steph seems far more interested in Juth and his kid than anything.
"It might not be safe." I'rec speaks up, his body language tight with irritation. "The gentlest females should stay close to camp. Look what happened to R'ven."
For some reason, his statement goes all over me, probably because I'm still feeling defensive of U'dron. "Back the fuck up, buddy. She can go if she wants to."
I must have said that really loudly, because the entire camp goes silent.
Steph blinks at me in surprise. Flor's mouth opens and closes.
"Um, you okay, Raven? You don't sound like yourself," Nadine offers.
I bury my face in my hands. Shit. Shit shit shit. Now's the perfect time to spill everything, and yet I'm utterly terrified at the thought. I keep hesitating, because it's so damn hard to get the words out. I can't bring myself to do it. What if…what if they all hate me?
U'dron's tail rubs against my calf, as if he's quietly comforting me. His hand moves to my knee and he rubs his thumb against my skin. He's there for me. He's letting me know that no matter what happens, he's got my back.
I can do this.
With a deep breath, I sit straighter, shoulders back, and lower my hands. "I need to talk to everyone."
24
RAVEN
I decide to go with the lesser of two evils. If they take the whole “stripping” thing well, then I can add the real whammy—that I'm a criminal—afterwards. "I haven't been totally honest about my past. I wasn't sure what you guys would think of me if you knew the truth, so I've been pretending to be…a little more granola than I actually am." I take a deep breath. "The truth is, I'm a stripper."
It gets really quiet around the camp. Like, if the ice planet had crickets, they'd be chirping right about now.
R'jaal is the first one to speak up. "You…strip the bark from trees?"
I laugh, but it's a little hysterical. "No, nothing to do with trees. I take my clothes off for money." Right. U'dron gave me the blank stare, too, so I should k
eep explaining. "If a guy doesn't have a mate, he can go and watch me take my clothes off to…pleasure himself. It's different back home, where everyone is dressed all the time. This is me getting naked…to please men. They give me money to dance, and I use that money to buy things like food and clothing." My stomach is tied up in knots, all the spicy food I just ate sitting like a brick in my gut. "I didn't say anything because everyone here seems like they had a good life back at home. You're college students or people with nice, normal jobs…and then there's me. I didn't think I would fit in, so I kinda leaned into the whole 'Raven' situation. Raven's my stage name. I'd put on a black wig and some heavy eye makeup and my stage persona was goth. I'd dance to Marilyn Manson or Nine Inch Nails. My real name is Louise. And I'm not really a hippie. At least, my mom was and I knew a lot about the lifestyle, so I just kinda…borrowed it. And—"
"R'ven," U'dron says gently.
Right. I'm babbling. I suck in a breath and close my eyes. It's just that…the silence is so damning. I wait, the seconds ticking past slowly.
Someone clears their throat. "I don't see a problem?" It's Sam, her voice calm and rational. "I worked at a wing place that had us wear tight shirts and short shorts. The money was really damn good."
I could kiss her. I'm not a crybaby, but I want to weep out of sheer joy just for her support. I open my eyes and she flashes me a supportive smile and a thumbs-up.
"I don't see what the big deal is," Flor says. "She can work at a titty bar. She's a damn adult. There's nothing wrong with that."
"That's right," another person says. Daisy. She beams a smile in my direction, ever-sunny.
"I'm sorry if you felt like you wouldn't be accepted," Willa adds in her sweet southern voice. "I don't feel like it's a big deal at all."
There's a low murmur of assent and several people nodding.
"It's fine, girlfriend," Callie adds. "I mean, it's not like you're a criminal."
The smile on my face disappears. It feels like a punch in the gut.
The camp goes quiet again.
"Shit," Callie says.
The looks are now wide eyed and a little concerned. Angie holds her baby a little tighter, and I don't blame her. I could be a murderer or a child thief. Time to get it all out in the open before things get worse. "I can explain." I press my hands to my forehead, trying to calm myself. Nah. Better to just blurt it all out and get it over with. "See, I said my mom was a hippie, but what I should have said was that she was kicked out of the commune she lived in because she was strung out on drugs all the damn time. If my mom had a dollar to her name, she'd use it for drugs. Everything she earned went up her damn nose, and when it wasn't enough, she started stealing. That's how we got kicked out of the commune. She was a real mess and the only way I had enough to eat was to go to school or to steal it. I spent most of my time as a kid in juvie back and forth because I'd get picked up for shoplifting. Didn't graduate high school—I dropped out. By the time I turned eighteen, I had a record and a reputation, and that worked against me. I lost my temper and found out my boyfriend was cheating on me, so I might have stolen his car and drove it into a tree." I bite my nail, wrinkling my nose. "I was a stupid seventeen-year-old and I got two years in jail. No one wants to hire a nineteen-year-old with a rap sheet, so I worked as a stripper." I shrug. "But that's who I am. I'm sorry I lied. I just didn't think you guys would like the truth, so I made up a story."
Again, the uncomfortable silence falls.
Lauren is the first one to speak up. "Why did you think no one would like you?"
I arch an eyebrow in her direction. "How many strippers are you friends with back home?"
Lauren's mouth works and then she falls silent.
"She's got a point," Hannah says, a faint grimace on her face.
I shrug. "I'm not saying it to be a jerk. It's just…strippers hang out with other strippers. We work nights, pay in cash, shop the same places…you just hang with your people."
Flor perks up, snapping her fingers. "I always wondered why a hippie would have a tramp stamp of a dollar bill on her back. Now I know."
I laugh, because it's the most ridiculous thing. "I'd forgotten all about that." I touch the small of my back, over the tattoo I haven't seen in forever, much less thought about. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"It also explains why all her songs are stripper songs," Veronica chimes in. "I mean, she sings them differently but…still stripper songs."
She's not wrong. Those are the songs I know the best. "I just like singing. And dancing, really, but I promise not to do that here. It's not like I've got a burning urge to rip all my clothes off and gyrate on a pole. I just liked the money." I shrug. "And I haven't stolen anything since I went to jail, so you guys don't have to worry about that, either. But if you want me to leave the camp, I understand."
"No one wants you to leave," Harlow says. "Whatever happened back on Earth was a lifetime ago. Not just for you, but for all of us." She hugs Rukhar, who's still in her lap, as if she's thinking about how very different her life is now compared to what she had on Earth. "All we can do now is judge you by your actions, and you've always contributed and been pleasant around here. I don't see a problem."
"I'm glad you said something, though," Liz adds. "I prefer honesty."
"I'm glad you said something, too," Flor chimes in.
"You are?" I'm surprised by that.
"Sure," Flor continues, an impish smile on her face. "If there's ever an emergency, I know who to go to for the lyrics to the 'Thong Song.'"
I groan. So does Bridget, who nudges Flor. Sam shoots a glare in her direction.
"What?! Inappropriate humor is how I cope with awkward situations," Flor says. She gives me a meek look. "Sorry."
"It's fine. I've heard worse, trust me."
An uncomfortable silence falls again, and I feel so damn awkward. I'm relieved it's all out in the open, but I'm dreading that this is going to be my new reality: lots of awkward silences wherever I go. No one's going to know what to say to me or how to act around me, and something tells me it has more to do with my stripping than my car-thieving. It's the story of my life. Everyone can relate to being so angry at a cheating boyfriend…not many can relate to taking clothes off for money. It doesn't matter that I enjoyed it, or I was good at it, or I just love dancing and performing.
It's that it's stripping, full stop. And really, haven't I been through this dozens of times before? All the guys I dated where they were “fine” with my job until it was time to meet friends or see family on a holiday? Girlfriends that loved going out to clubs until they found out I stripped and then looked at me like I was a whore? That's why strippers hang out together. It's just nice to be among friends who won't judge you for what you do.
Someone clears his throat. I look up and see R'jaal has utter confusion written all over his face. "I still do not understand. What is the issue? I take my clothes off all the time. Many of us do. Should we stop?"
Several of the women chuckle, but when no one answers him, I speak up. "It's the type of dancing. I don't dance the same when I dance for money. It's also different in how you take your clothes off."
"Can you show us?" he asks. Nearby, O'jek and Sessah nod, wearing equally puzzled expressions.
A chorus of groans and disgusted noises rise from the women. Sam tosses a handful of sand in their direction. "You can't just ask a woman to take her clothes off for you, idiots!"
"But why is it a big deal?" Sessah exclaims, gesturing at me. "Ray-ven dances all the time!"
Something tells me the burning curiosity isn't going to go away until I show them. It's like with U'dron, he didn't grasp it until I explained it several times, and even now, I'm not sure he gets it. He knows that I dance, and he knows it's a problem, but he just trusts me on the rest. I dust off my hands and get to my feet. "I guess I could show you guys a little."
"Annnnd it's time for me to take the kids down to the beach," Harlow says with an apologetic grin. "Much as
I'd love to see you strut your stuff, this might be too much for young eyes. Come on, Rukhar, honey. Why don't we go enjoy the waves and see if any pretty shells washed up?" She gets to her feet, taking her son's hand, and Liz sends her girls off with them.
I expect more people to peel away, but surprisingly, most everyone sticks around. I don't see looks of judgment on faces, either. Sure, there's a few of the single girls giving exasperated looks to the alien men, but they seem more irked on my behalf. I do a few stretches while I wait, trying to think of a decent song to sing while I dance. Not Nine Inch Nails. I'll go with Destiny's Child, I think. Something playful but standoffish. There's no pole here, either, but I see Vaza standing to the side with his spear, and I get an idea. I head over to him and gesture at the weapon. "Can I borrow this?"
He hands it over, a mystified look on his face.
I take it and bring it to U'dron. "Will you stand up and hold this steady for me? No matter how much I pull on it, I need you to keep it anchored."
My big guy nods at me. He leans in. "If you do not want to do this, you do not have to. I can tell them all to leave."
"I know. I want to, if nothing else, to show them. It won't happen again, though. All my dancing will be in private for you after this." I give him a smile, pleased that he's not trying to stop me or getting jealous. He just wants me to be comfortable, and that's the best kind of support.
With a song humming in my head, I glance around at the group. I'm wearing an oversized, belted tunic, and it's cold and frosty, and most of the couples here are married—sorry, mated. There's no music except what I create, and it's a weird situation, but…this isn't any weirder than a private birthday party for some ancient creep with money, and lord knows I've done those. So I shrug to myself, pull my hair free of the bun, and let it cascade down my back.
