June

by Erik Schubach

  I signed, “I'll see you late tonight Kat. I'll be on the prowl for Scratch tonight, I don't know how many underground raves I'll have to hit.”

  She chuckled. “Oh, poor you, it sounds hideous.”

  I winked at her and shot her a grin and turned toward the street and gave a shrill whistle as I raised a hand. I inhaled the smell of the Big Apple. I missed the place and didn't even realize it. It was full of a different kind of energy than Seattle, as it is always moving. I hopped into the cab that pulled over and had him head toward Upper Manhattan. I needed to see Xavier.

  Xavier was the man on the street when you needed the 411 on any illegal raves hitting the underground scene.

  I had the cabbie drop me in the park on East Drive near Lasker Rink. I paid the driver then walked to the bench by the North Woods. I always liked that part of Central Park, you could almost forget you were in the middle of the city and not somewhere out by the base of some mountains, nature was everywhere.

  A huge smile bloomed on my face at the young man in some grungy street clothes and a Giant's baseball cap who sat on the bench, listening to an old-school transistor radio. He was pretty nondescript, and that was sort of the point. Average height and build, non-remarkable features and mousy brown hair and short beard. His intelligent hazel eyes that took in everything around him at once were the only thing that could tip you off to the fact he was more than he seemed.

  I sat down on the far side of the bench with my arms spread lazily on top of the bench back and just took a deep relaxing breath. The man glanced over at me and did a double-take that I was sure could have snapped his neck like a twig. “Holy shit! June?”

  I gave him a Cheshire cat grin. “The one and only. What's the word Xavier?”

  He smiled back. “The word is 'holy shit it's June.' What brings you back to the city? I haven't seen you since... since that hullabaloo with the Port Authority, and that marching band that...”

  I held up a hand to stop him. “We're not supposed to talk about that Xav, remember the confidentiality agreement the City Council made us sign?”

  He nodded but his smile remained. “Yeah. Good times.”

  I nodded in agreement. “Yes, good times.” Then I leaned forward and put my elbows on my knees and crossed my arms over my lap. “I need the 20 on Scratch tonight.”

  He shook his head. “That dude ain't right in the head. Sure you want to locate him? I got some tickets to Rigoletto at the Metropolitan Opera tonight. I know how you love the music.”

  This piqued my interest but I shook my head, reminding myself to stay on task, and spoke flatly, “Xavier.”

  He shrugged. “Fine.” He rummaged through some papers in his pockets and came out with two playbills and handed them to me. “He'll be at one or the other. It's hard to tell nowadays. I'm telling you June, he was sketchy before, but now he's friggin' erratic.”

  I nodded wondering what he meant by erratic. Did I want someone that wasn't dependable on my team? I looked him directly in the eyes and asked, “He still got the touch?”

  He hesitated then nodded. “He has the golden touch, every wannabe band is still clamoring for him to shine a light on them.”

  Good. I smiled and asked, “What I owe you for this Xav?”

  He shook his head with an imperious grin and made a washing motion with his hands. “Hey for June, gratis.” I nodded my appreciation and bumped his fist and walked off before he drew too much attention sitting with a girl like me. As I wandered through the park toward the far said at the 59th Street entrance, I decoded the playbills.

  Different portions of the fake bills gave the time, date and, location of an underground rave. The Playbill was like your invitation. Give it to the man at the door and you were allowed entry. They rotated locations because while you could enjoy live music, dancing, and drinking, they weren't exactly legal. I knew both places, if I were lucky I could find the man tonight. If I have to suffer through multiple nights of music and fun, I suppose I could make the sacrifice for the greater good. Oh, shut up!

  In my distraction, I ran into a raggedy dressed woman in various layers of secondhand clothes. Her voice cut right through me and struck a tone in my stomach like a tuning fork. “Oh, I'm terribly sorry! I'm so clumsy sometimes.” She was about my age and my breath hitched as our eyes met. I had never seen eyes like those before, such a crystalline blue that I would have thought they were contacts except for the fact that they dilated a bit when she looked at me. The darker blue at the pupil seemed to sparkle as her irises expanded.

  Her mouth hung open in shock as I took in her face. It was quite a contrast to the way she was dressed. Her attire looked to be just one step shy of the homeless stage, but her face was clean, feminine, and beautiful. Her small button nose was just above the most delicate curves of her cupid's bow lips. A lock of honey blonde hair fell across her eyes as she stuttered out, “The... the music! It's playing in your eyes!”

  Then she shook her head almost violently and took a step back and growled at the ground as she violently struck the side of her head repeatedly with her hand while hissing to her left, “What? I know! But she's not real!” I found myself concerned for the woman, was she ok?

  She cast a scared glance back at me and turned and said, “Again, I'm sorry miss,” then walked quickly away. I just stared after the erratic woman, she seemed to be talking to herself as she walked. Her feminine face was burned into my mind. I noted that her shoes didn't match and she had a little purple backpack that had seen better days slung over her shoulder.

  It wasn't until she was about fifty yards away, cutting across the park toward Fifth Avenue, when she broke into a sprint, glancing back at me one last time. What the? I quickly glanced down at my now open purse, my wallet was gone! “Son of a bitch!” I spat out. I took two steps toward where she ran and paused... she was gone. I can't believe it! I was just friggin' robbed! By an angel! The odd part of it was I was more upset that she was gone than at the loss of my wallet.

  Only one other time in my life had a woman hit that tuning fork inside of me. I'm sort of mostly straight when it comes to my dating habits. Men are just much more intriguing to me, but I can appreciate a beautiful woman and often fantasize about them, though not as frequently as men.

  There was a girl in my freshman year of college, Lucy, that. Oh damn, she was a tease and I swear I would have done anything for her, and she knew it. Just when I decided that I truly was attracted to her in more than a sexual way, I asked her out. I was all set to embrace that part of me, but she said no. Not because she didn't want to, but because she was transferring to a school in Germany and didn't want to start something we couldn't explore.

  She apologized with the sweetest, softest, most erotic kiss anyone had ever given me. It is the kiss I measure all other kisses by. If a guy can't make me feel half as heated as that kiss did, then he's not the guy for me. I caught myself wondering how good the pickpocket could kiss, she certainly got the attention of some of my favorite parts of my body.

  What the hell June? She just friggin' robbed you and you are crushing on her? I shook my head to clear it and then let my ire rise. Dammit! I'll have to cancel my cards and get a flippin' replacement driver's license. I didn't have time for this! My time-line was already tight.

  I caught myself wondering about the pickpocket's behavior, I hoped she was ok. Grrr! Stop it, she robbed you!

  I was fuming now as I made my way to 59th. I flagged a mounted police officer down. He navigated his horse beside me. “I was just robbed! Some woman just snagged my wallet and ran toward Fifth Avenue.”

  The officer took a report and called it in on his radio but informed me that there wasn't much more he could do. I thanked him and then jammed my hand into my purse in a sudden panic but then sighed, my cell was still there.

  I texted Kat and let her know what happened. She wanted to know if I was ok. I smiled and responded that I was fine that the thief was the most polite pickpocket in the city. This got me a “You'r
e a nutjob, you know that don't you?” I snorted and texted back, “Why thank you.” Which got the expected reply of, “That wasn't a compliment weirdo. You going back to my place then?”

  I thought about it a moment. I had just been robbed and was stuck in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world without any cash or identification. A huge smile slowly bloomed on my face as I typed back, “No, I got this shit.” I did start laughing out loud as I read her response, “Of course you do. You're flippin' June Harris-West. Fine woman, see you late tonight.”

  I sat on a park bench and called my bank and reported my debit card stolen. They said a new one would be issued and mailed to my place in Seattle, I could also hit a local branch with my passport and they could issue a new card there too.

  I contacted the Washington State Department of Licensing next, they would mail out a replacement, it would take seven to ten days.

  Then I called Lizzie. She answered with a “Go for the Liz!”

  I chuckled and said, “I need a favor little sis.”

  She replied with a playful tone tinged with curiosity, “Of course you do, I'm awesome. What's up J?”

  I tried to stop from grinning at her, she sounds more and more like me the older she gets. “I need you to get my Harmony Traxx Visa reported stolen and a new one reissued to me without the 'rents finding out. I'd do it myself, but I don't have any of the contact information with me.”

  She sighed heavily. “I let you out of my sight for one day and you go losing stuff. I thought I raised you better than this.”

  I giggled. “Yes mother. But I didn't lose it, I was robbed.”

  There was silence for a couple seconds. Then she spoke with concern straining her suddenly serious voice, “Are you ok June?”

  I kept my voice light. “Yes, it was just a sneaky sexy pickpocket. Just please, don't let our moms know.” She promised and we chatted a bit then said our goodbyes and I hung up. Ok, the pain in the ass stuff is covered now what?

  Step one, cash. Can't do anything in New York without it. If I had thought, I would have asked Lizzie to wire me some. I didn't need to burden Kathleen. I just needed a little seed money, a little can turn into a lot quickly here on the streets of the Big Apple. I decided to look at this as an adventure.

  I headed toward Fifth and East 49th to a pawn shop I knew. I stepped in and looked around. I bypassed the buzzcut polo-shirt who was asking if he could help me and made a beeline for the back counter.

  I grinned at the old guy sitting by the hunting rifles in a glass case behind him. “Manny!”

  The guy looked up and in his thick Jersey accent said, “Jesus, June! Where you been the past couple years?” He stood up. And called out to buzzcut. “Derrick, be sure to check your wallet when this one leaves.” Then he looked at me. “This isn't about that damn crystal tiger again is it?

  I smiled at him and shook my head. “Need some cash Manny. I was robbed, they got my ID.” I pulled some pearl earrings out of my purse. They were a gift from a guy in Seattle, who has been trying to get me to go out with him for over a year, he can't take no for an answer. I had no emotional attachment to them or him. They were in my purse because I had meant to dump them back in Seattle and donate the proceeds to the Callahan Foundation, I just never got around to it.

  He took out a jewelers loop and examined them and looked at the jeweler's stamp on the gold. He turned and typed something into the computer beside him and the earrings came up in an online search showing they were valued at three hundred dollars. He squinted at them then at me. “Fifty.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Come on Manny, one hundred. You know you'll get two hundred for them.”

  He shrugged. “No ID says I can't even take 'em. This is under the counter shit June.”

  I narrowed my eyes even more as the corner of my mouth twitched up, fighting a smile as I said, “So, about that crystal tiger...”

  He growled, the guy actually growled at me, but then smiled. “Damn you woman. Fine one hundred, but this better not come back on me.” He pulled some bills out of his own wallet instead of the register and counted out ten ten dollar bills for me. Then he pocketed the earrings.

  I quirked an eyebrow at him as I pocketed the cash. He shrugged., “Jenny will like them.”

  I snorted. Conned by the con, I probably could have got a hundred fifty from him if I would have known he wanted them for his wife. He just shot me a Cheshire cat grin. Then he said like a true New Jersey transplant, “Boom! And that's how it's played!”

  I patted his arm and grinned. “Paybacks are a... June.”

  He nodded in mock worry. “Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of.”

  I smiled and turned away and went back out onto the streets. Ok, now we have some seed money, what next June? I started walking to Times Square. I hit a few street vendors and did some wheeling and dealing. I was able to, through some creative trading, turn some t-shirts into ball caps and the ball caps into double my investment. I was up to one hundred fifty now. I was comfortable with that. That would get me through the night until I set up some permanent fundage.

  But then I hesitated as I passed a man who set up a floating Three Card Monte game on a cardboard box just after a police officer walked by on rounds. Heaven help me. I eyed the officer disappearing into the crowd, then turned to the man and dropped two tens in front of him and he grinned and dropped twenty on top, showing me a card.

  Red Queen, got it. I watched him palming, shuffle pass, flutter feign, and thumb slide as he mixed the cards on the box. The trick is to only peripherally track the card, it is more important to pay attention to the subtle motions of his hands to know what he is really doing with the card. I tapped the queen and he flipped it, squinting his eyes at me. I let it ride and he put another forty on top of my stack. After he had lost again, he was shooting daggers out of his eyes.

  I went to take my cash and he put his hand on top of mine. “One more time.” I stared at him and then nodded. It was only a twenty dollar investment if I lost, but if I won that was another one hundred forty to my cache. Risk to reward it was worth it. Besides, this was an adventure right?

  He matched my cash then started mixing the cards. I noticed when he made a wide arc with his right hand as he shuffled the three card positions. Classic misdirect so my eyes instead darted to his left hand and I saw a wrist flick and then he finished the shuffling with his left hand stiff for some reason.

  He stood up and motioned to the cards with his right hand. I asked, “You really want me to do this? I can walk away right now with the cash and you'd keep your dignity.”

  He had a confident smirk as he asked, “Where's the queen?”

  I hovered my hand over the card it should have been if he hadn't switched it out. That got my hand close to his hands. Then I snatched his left wrist and twisted it hard. He yelped in pain and stood on his tip toes to relive some of the pressure I was exerting. I stared down at the red queen he was palming and I grabbed the stack of bills off the box before releasing him. The crowd that had been gathering in interest as we played started dispersing and grumbling their dissatisfaction of his street con.

  He grabbed his box and cards to move on to a new location as he spat out, “Bitch.” And don't you forget it. Then I grinned at myself. Hell yeah, I'm set for the night now. There was a little skip in my step as I slipped into a shop for a slice and a cola. I had forgotten how much fun I had in New York during my college years.

  Chapter 4 – Scratch

  The rest of the day I just spent reacquainting myself with the city that never sleeps. I saw some familiar faces and some new ones. I was in a sort of melancholy as I realized that time marches on and things change.

  I did hit Kat's for a change of clothes. I went with a grunge look for where I was heading tonight. My black half shirt with Leather and heels logo on it. Heavy black vest. My torn jeans and my black Converse. I went extra heavy with my eyeliner and makeup. I had to chuckle when I realized I looked like Zilrita a bit lik
e this.

  My first rave was at a warehouse that was closed for renovation near the docks. I went to the back door in the alley between warehouses and saw a lone man leaning against the wall beside the door, smoking a cigarette. There were a few young adults walking both to and from the alley all dresses similar to me. I could feel the thumping bass inside through the ground. It vibrated up into my feet and I could feel the tempo. This was the place alright.

  I walked up to the guy at the door who pushed gently away from the wall and almost imperceptibly leaned to block the door and spoke with a slight accent I couldn't quite place, “Hey lovely, what can I be doin' fer ya? Lost?”

  I rolled my eyes and slapped a playbill across his chest as I pushed past him to the door. He glanced down at it then leaned back against the wall. I followed the music down a corridor and pushed through a tarp into a loud rave.

  The beat was kickin' and already had me swaying as I looked out over the crowd. There was a makeshift stage made with three construction scaffold platforms lashed together. I could see some sound equipment on it and huge PA speakers pointing down into the crowd. No DJ yet, they were just playing some random songs. Must be local since I didn't recognize it. It wasn't bad.

  I spotted a long table with a keg and moved that way and snagged a beer, dropping a five with the tap-master. Then I moved to the back corner and crawled up a stack of bags of concrete and just looked out over the crowd. I loved watching people, it was fascinating to see how they all interacted with each other and with the music.

  A couple random guys got me to dance in the throng of people to some of the songs, but I would politely excuse myself afterwards, I was here on business. Well and a bit of pleasure. I loved listening to new music.

  After an hour, a DJ arrived and started spinning some tunes. The guy was ok, but he was no Scratch. The mixes were not as inspired as they could be and the selections, while party worthy, were not the cutting edge stuff that Scratch always seemed to find in the sea of wannabees.