To this day, I still have never had a night that felt so right. It was like I locked everything in my life away. All there was, was that rooftop, that woman who intrigued me so much, and that movie.
Chapter 6 – Vanessa Brighton
I woke up on the roof with someone gently shaking me. I blinked a couple times. I smiled inwardly as I lifted my head from Vanessa's shoulder. Fran was grinning at me. I brushed some hair back out of my face and Fran said softly, “I have to get to school. Tell Vannie?”
I turned to look at the mass of honey blonde hair gently snoring beside me. I smiled then turned back and nodded. “Sure thing Small Fry.” I turned to look at the wall at the end of the alley. The screen was gone like it had never been there. I smiled again and asked, “Thursday night?”
She smiled and nodded, saying, “Every Thursday night if she isn't spinning at some rave. Old school musicals. The music chases away the voices for her.”
I thought about that a moment. Was that why Vanessa worked with music? To calm her mind? I turned and watched her sleep. Then Fran asked, “You serious about that offer?” I just nodded, then she said, “I'll talk to her. How can we reach you?”
I dug in my purse and pulled out a card with my cell number on it. She turned it over in her hands. On one side, I simply have a gold J printed on a black card and my number in gold on the other side. She snorted. “Ostentatious are we?”
I snorted back, truly amused. “A little young to be using words like ostentatious are we?”
She grinned. “Touche. I read a lot.”
I nodded in appreciation. “That's good.”
She adjusted her book bag on her shoulder. I noticed that unlike her older sister, she wore clean, trendy clothes. You would never know she was homeless, I think that was the point, they didn't want anyone to know or they would be separated again, legal guardian or not.
She started walking toward the door at the stairs and stopped with her back to me and she said softly, “I'm really sorry we stole from you.” Then she beat it double-time to the door and down the stairs.
My purse started buzzing and I gently extracted my hand from Vanessa's. She never let go the entire night, and we never spoke a single word either. I was just amazed, watching her face as she seemed entranced by the movie. I must have dozed off during the end credits.
I grabbed my cell. Shit, seven thirty in the morning. It was Kat, damn, I missed over a dozen texts from her. The latest was, “Dammit West. If you don't answer soon, I'm checking the hospitals.”
I quickly texted back. “Hi. Sorry, I fell asleep in Vanessa's living room.” I started scrolling through all of her texts that started around two in the morning. Crap, she was really worried. I'm an ass.
She responded. “Who the hell is Vanessa? You hook up with someone and you fail to send me a message. I was worried sick. This IS New York you know.”
I snorted and Vanessa stopped snoring. Hmm... she needs a nickname. Then I froze and blinked when nothing came to mind. Ummm... what the heck? I tried again. The only person in the world better at slinging nicknames is Mom, but I was drawing a blank. This has never happened. I was even thinking of her as Vanessa, not Van or Vannie, like Small Fry did. Was my nickname-a-tron on the fritz or something?
I snapped out of it and responded. “Vanessa is Scratch. I found him or rather, her. And I'm so sorry, I just fell asleep after The Sound of Music.”
There was a long pause then the reply. “Is that a euphemism for something? Or did you really Julie Andrews out? I don't know if I should be congratulating you or hanging my head low in shame for you.”
I snorted and typed. “Hey now, don't be dissin' Ms Andrews. Yes, I watched a movie.”
Then her reply was instant. “You sly fox, I didn't know you were into the fairer sex too.”
I grinned and replied, “Well you never asked, and it wasn't like that. Besides, I don't know if I am or not anyway.”
“Whatever JW. You coming back to the apartment or what? I have to be back at CG at noon.”
I nodded as I typed. “Be back in a bit. I have to talk to Vanessa first.”
“Fine brat. I'll call off the manhunt. Honestly I didn't know if I were more concerned about you or what you'd do to my city.”
I chuckled and typed. “Love you too Kat, be back soon.”
I placed my phone back into my purse and looked over into a pair of crystal blue eyes that were watching me. She asked with a cute smirk, “My living room?”
I grinned and shrugged, motioning to the sleeping bag we were on top of. “Couch.” Then motioned my head toward the brick wall. “Television.” Then I shrugged. “Why, what would you call it?”
She chuckled and shrugged back, but then her eyes darted around in the morning light. She stood quickly and I followed suit. She said quickly as she bundled up the sleeping bag, “We can't talk here in broad daylight. They're always watching. Fran needs to get to school.”
I replied, “She already left.”
She hustled us through the door and put the sleeping bag on the steel grating of the landing then grabbed my hand and pulled me down the stairs to the auto shop. She looked around then seemed to relax. “The steel walls stop them from listening.” She stopped and returned my gaze then almost yelled at me. “I'm not crazy!”
I nodded. “Never said you were. But I do think you need help.”
She calmed down and took a deep breath and exhaled. “Sorry. I'm just a little erratic June. I'll be fine a couple weeks after I get my meds.”
I tried again to come up with a nickname for her and failed, damn that was frustrating me. “You don't have to explain yourself to me or anybody else Vanessa.”
She walked over to a workbench that had a mixing board, two turntables and a boom box with a cd player. She grabbed some jumper cables and attached them to a huge car battery. It sparked when the clamps touched the terminals. Then she flipped the switch on the box the other ends of the cables were connected to and the equipment blinked to life.
She switched on a little lamp that chased away the shadows then plugged her iPod into a charger and started some music that played through the boom box speakers. It was a fresh beat, I didn't recognize the band. Damn, this was good stuff! I could see the strain on her face recede as she started slowly swaying to the music.
I saw four other batteries like this one, she must have read my mind as I wondered where they got the batteries, they were as spendy as the DJ equipment. She shrugged and said, “I need power to make my mixes and... the batteries are from the vehicles of the social workers that took Fran away from me. Their insurance will take care of it.” I snorted at the sexy Robin Hood. Do I find her sexy? I thought it, so I must.
Then she just stood there staring at me. I was getting a little self conscious, then she gave an exasperated look and asked, “Well? You texted that person on the phone that you needed to talk to me.”
I snorted again and she cocked an eyebrow in such a humorous manner and said, “You snort a lot. Ladies aren't supposed to snort.”
I squinted through my own grin. “Who said I was a lady?”
She shrugged again. “You look like one.”
I was enjoying this banter, but I needed to get an answer. “So, did you want the position or not. You'd be pretty much autonomous, though I'd want you to sort of lead any other scouts.”
She blinked twice then asked, “You... you're still offering me a job? I'm a nut case, you've seen it.”
I tried to keep the anger out of my voice, I hate it when people denigrate themselves. I tried to keep my voice level, “We all have baggage. What makes you any different? You aren't your affliction. Besides you seem fine right now.”
She took a quick breath and replied, “I'm clearer in the morning. I don't know why, it gets worse as the day moves on.” Then she motioned to the iPod. “The music chases away the voices.” Then her eyes locked on mine and I was lost. Her voice snapped me back to the conversation, “But the music... it's playing in your ey
es... that's not... that's why I thought you weren't real.” What did she mean by that? She keeps saying that.
I asked again, “So, what do you say?”
She shook her head. “I can't, not now, I'm not right. And I have Fran. I have to get my head clear, the meds will help.”
I tilted my head and took in the fear in her eyes. “I can get you help. I'd do that anyway, whether you take the job or not.”
She started to snap then she paused and shook her head, “I don't need.... “Why would you do that? I wouldn't anyway. They'd take Fran from me. You don't understand, we are all each other has. The meds will be enough.”
I placed a hand on her arm lightly. “I'd do it because I can see how much you love your sister, and how much you hate being like this. I have a sister too and I would do anything to make sure she was ok. Seeing that in you is enough to make me want to help.”
She looked me up and down. “You're odd.”
I grinned. “Why thank you.”
She snorted and responded playfully, “Wasn't a compliment green eyes.”
I shook my head. “Says you. But what do you know, you're, how did you put it? A nut case?”
She chuckled at that. “You're just as bad as Fran.”
I nodded. “Again, thank you.”
She rolled her eyes and moved to her mixing board. “Again, not a compliment June.”
I tilted my head and said, “Call me JW.”
She slid some sliders on the mixer. “I'd rather not call you that. But I'm sorry, as tempting as it is, I can't take the job. I'm too broken right now, and besides, your studio doesn't stand a chance in hell. It'll be lost in the sea of Indies out there. You obviously don't know enough about music to pick any winners or you wouldn't be hiring scouts before you have cashflow.”
I blinked in shock. Ummm. I tried to keep the aggravation out of my voice as I spoke through my teeth while she stopped the music and connected her iPod to the mixing panel. I hated name dropping, but she was judging me. “My mother, is Mandy Fay Harris, and she owns the hottest indie label in the world, Harmony Traxx. I know plenty about music.”
She cocked an eyebrow with some sort of self-satisfied smirk as she adjusted some dials. “That don't mean shit and you know it. YOU are not Mandy Fay Harris. Though it sounds like you want to trade off on her fame and her accomplishments instead of your own merits.”
What the hell?! I spat out, “You don't know me! You have no clue how much I have sacrificed living in my mother's shadow! I can't ever hope to share my own music with the world because of that shadow! So I want to produce it for others.”
She shrugged like it was no big deal then she looked off to the side and spoke to someone, “I know, right? Nothing but excuses.” Then she turned back to me. “Whatever. Though you have one of those dreamy musical voices, you probably can't even carry a note.”
I snapped, “Bullshit!” Then paused. Wait, what? She thinks my voice is dreamy?
The look I got from her was one of a hunter who had just sprung a trap on its unsuspecting prey as she jammed a microphone in my hand. She grinned widely and hopped up onto the workbench, swinging her legs playfully as she said, “Prove it.” Then she flicked a switch on her sound board. She... I... what just happened?
I looked at her and she was nothing but smiles. She just led me into this like I had a ring in my nose. I blinked. Not many people can outmaneuver me like this. I can count them on one hand, Mom, Mother, Lizzie, and Zoey. And now Vanessa.
I said, “Fine.” I started singing ‘Oceans of Blue’ acapella. One thing that most people don't know about me is that I can sing my ass off, but no matter how good I am, I will always be compared to my mother. How do you compete with a rock legend?
I was only one verse in when she started laughing. It was one of those heartfelt laughs, like a chortle. She gasped out, “You don't want to be in her shadow, but you sing her songs? And here I thought I was the nutcase!”
She started giggling. I growled at her and said, “I have my own stuff.” She made a regal motion with her hands, bidding me to 'prove it' again.
I don't know what the hell was wrong with me, but I actually smiled at the woman who was mocking me! Then I started to really sing. I closed my eyes and willed the music forth, one of my own songs that I wrote just for me. A song of love and dreams, of the things that could be. Of the shadow, my light hides behind, but most of all, of hope... hope that one day, everything will be ok.
I finished, fighting back tears. Someone took the microphone from me. A soft voice said, “That's what I see playing in your eyes.” I blinked and looked over at her and she was shutting her equipment down and putting her iPod into her pocket. I couldn't read her eyes. She snapped off to the side at someone only she could see, in a low hiss, “I know. Just, leave me alone.” Then she struck her own head.
She grabbed her purple backpack and started toward the loose steel siding, leaving me standing in confusion and the emotional aftermath of singing in front of someone, in front of a stranger. I ran to catch up with her. “What was that all about? And where are you going?”
She spoke like it was obvious, “Have to get to the shelter to get cleaned up. They let us use the shower there, and if I'm not too late I can get some breakfast in the soup line.” I stopped in my tracks. I felt almost ashamed that I had the things that she and her sister desperately needed and I never really gave it a second thought.
It isn't like I am ignorant of their situation, I see so much of their world through Mom's various programs and volunteering at the Callahan Foundation from time to time. This time it was someone I think I was getting to like and respect. Even with her affliction, she was so much stronger than me. Basically raising her sister on the streets and putting Fran's welfare above her own.
She called back, “Are you coming or not?” I blinked again. She had turned me down twice already, but she apparently expected me to follow. My feet were walking quickly to catch up before I decided whether to follow or not. Friggin feet, I'd have to check out their circuits to figure out why they aren't listening to me. Maybe they have a mind of their own. Oh god, please don't make me moonwalk!
I caught up then looked over at her, she had a strained look on her face. I could see the creases at the corners of her eyes. I asked in a chipper voice, “So Vanessa, what's your full name?”
She looked at me and reached over and actually poked my arm with her finger and then seemed to relax a little and said, “Don't talk so loud. They're always watching.” She lowered her voice a bit and tilted her head and smiled cutely at me. “Vanessa Trevor Brighton.”
I cocked an eyebrow at her and tried hard not to laugh. “Trevor?”
She shrugged and smirked. “Mom apparently wanted a boy. Instead, she got me.” She seemed lost in a sour memory for an instant then she wiggled her eyebrows at me, “You're one to throw stones in glass houses little miss named after a month.”
I couldn't stop my grin, this woman was fun and funny. “I prefer to think that in anticipation of my future birth, the universe named the month after me. We're in my month now, it gives me superpowers.”
She snorted and looked around in embarrassment. “What superpowers.”
I didn't even look at her, I just put a smug look on my face and said, “The ability to deflect the sarcasm of DJs.”
This got an explosive high pitched sound from her, and she slapped her hands over her mouth. Holy crap, it was a startled laugh! How cute was that? Then she dropped her hands and said with humor tinging her voice, “Weirdo.”
I nodded and bumped her hip. “So I've been told.”
She led me around the corner and then squinted her eyes and said off to her left, “No it's not her, and I'm not talking to you!” Then she looked over at me. “You said you went to school here? You hear of the other June? From the June's Eight urban legends?”
I nodded. “I don't feel legend-y.”
She sputtered. “She wasn't real. That Staten Island Ferry thing couldn'
t have...”
I cut her off. “Guilty as charged. And it wasn't as hard as you might think.”
She seemed genuinely shocked. I was embarrassed by all the shenanigans I and my group of friends got into during college, but most of it was for good causes, and had a positive effect on the community. She squinted one eye, and bit the tip of her tongue then asked, “That wild-ass scheme with the Lieutenant Governor to force reform of civil liberties of same sex couples at the various universities in New York?”
I nodded. “Guilty.”
She tilted her head. “What was the thing with the emus and the helicopter?”
I shrugged. “Just for fun, and someone told me it wasn't possible.”
She started again. “What about the...”
I cut her off with a giggle. “It is a safe bet to assume that if there is a rumor about it, it probably happened. My friends were pretty much awesome and unstoppable back then.”
We stopped at the doors of a homeless shelter and she nodded at a disheveled old man with a scruffy, wispy white beard sitting on the sidewalk by the door. It was noisy inside, lots of voices and the sounds you'd expect in a school cafeteria. There were some tantalizing smells wafting through two swinging doors to our right. There was a sign hanging on a string at the door that said the breakfast line started at eight and ended at nine or until the food was gone. It was almost nine now. I saw her smack her lips subconsciously and swallow.
She turned away from the door and started down the hall. “The shower is this way.”
I stopped her by placing a hand on her arm. She looked at my hand then at me and my hand again. She put her hand on mine and then pulled it hesitantly away. Was she checking to make sure I was real again? I said, “I'm hungry, mind if we eat first?”
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