by Petra J Knox
Watching assholes lust after her was hard.
Listening to perverted bastards talk about her tits, her ass, her lips was hard.
Witnessing her friends encourage her to date was hard.
But hearing her sing sad songs was torture.
I took another shot of whiskey, my fourth now, as I sat at the bar, way in the back. In lieu of my usual jeans and hoodie, I was dressed in a black suit and black tie, with a black fox mask. My stool faced the stage about twenty feet away, both far and close enough to where Blue sang.
This was her second set of the night, and with each song she sang, her voice acted like salt to my wounded heart.
I tapped the bar, my eyes never leaving the stage. In moments, my glass was filled again. I never drank unless I had to. Some jobs required me to blend in with society, and since most people didn’t trust those who didn’t partake, I did what I had to do. It wasn’t normal to deny oneself in my world. But that was work related drinking, just like wearing the right uniform, holding the right tool.
Drinking to forget, to fool myself, to be numb… never had I desired that. I held onto my control like a child with his favorite blanket. It was all I had. Drugs and alcohol took one’s control and held it hostage, leaving the worst of its victims nothing but a puppet. At best, it made people stupid.
The first verse of Cole Porter’s Every Time We Say Goodbye hit me in the gut. I threw back the shot. Tapped. Waited. Drank.
Blue’s dulcet tone rang through each note like a bell, haunting, spellbinding. The words of loss, of questioning her worth… it killed me, slicing me in half.
Part of me hated the fact that Blue was the one that really took my control. She made me feel. No longer was I numb to pain. Knowing joy, I now knew its absence. Knowing ecstasy, I now knew want.
I fucking hated it.
“Hey, kid.”
Crocket’s soft voice was actually welcome.
I laughed at the thought, and the sound it made was dark and rough.
“And what’s so funny?” he asked. He moved in front of me and took a seat on my right, blocking half my view of the stage.
“I think you’re timing either sucks or it’s perfect.” I tapped the bar again and turned my gaze to Crocket. All dapper as usual in his fancy hat and suspenders. But he was staring at me funny. “What?”
“Well, for one, you’re wearing a suit.”
I threw back the shot as soon as the bartender was done pouring.
“Two, you’re drinking.”
I raised my empty shot glass and showed it to him. “Need one?”
“And three, you’re talking a hell of a lot.” He signaled the bartender, nodded at my drink, holding up a finger. “What he’s having. And he’s done now, by the way.”
“The hell I am,” I told him.
“He’ll take a water, though.” Crocket put some money down and passed it across the shiny surface of the bar.
I shook my head at him and returned my gaze back to the stage. Back to Blue and her sad eyes.
The last note lingered in the air as she adjusted the microphone, standing up and gesturing to the guy by the stage who assisted her every so often. He took her stool away while she thanked the room.
“This next song is dedicated to someone special to me.” She paused, waiting for a few claps to finish. “Sometimes, when you wish on a star, it takes a while for that wish to come true. Sometimes it’s not overnight, or three days from now or even a year.”
My arms broke out in goosebumps as my stupid watery brain tried to follow what she was saying. I didn’t want to miss a word.
“But I’m lucky. I wished for stars and found someone who was a whole sky full of them. And let me tell you,” she looked around the room and smiled, “it’s not easy loving the night sky.”
The lights dimmed and a silvery shimmer background fell like water behind her. A piano began to play gently over the speakers, and then Blue sang.
Tears, fucking tears fell down my eyes as I listened to every word, and I knew then that I loved her with every cell in my body.
The place erupted when she was done, clapping, whistling, wanting more. When the lights came back on and the stage curtain fell, I stood up, but Crocket’s hand locked onto my arm.
I couldn’t speak, just looked at him through my hazy vision.
“You’re drunk, Pinn. Not a good idea. Sober up first.”
“Let me go, Crocket,” I growled in his face. Sure, he had two heads right now, and what he was saying rang true, but I had to find Blue.
“Trust me on this. Stay here a bit. She’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”
Something in his tone made me pause. How the fuck did he know who I was talking about and what I even intended on doing?
Feeling too dizzy to think straight, I sat my ass back down and went to rub my face, only to find the stupid fox mask was covering it. It was hot and itchy, and I wanted it fucking off. But I wasn’t wasted enough to be that dense. “Fine. You win.”
He mumbled something toward the bar, and a minute later, a basket of bar mix was in front of me. “Here, kid. Eat.”
I shoved a handful in my mouth, not caring anymore. Crocket was right. I wasn’t in any state to talk to Blue right now.
As if I’d conjured her from my alcohol-muddled mind, there she was, mingling among the patrons as she always did after her shows. She had changed into a rose-colored outfit of wide-leg pants and a matching top that tied around the neck and left her belly exposed. The material was satin and hugged her in all the right places. Her hair was in a thick plait, starting high on the top of her head. It trailed down her back like a braided waterfall. That same enchanting snowy mask of feathers covered the top of her face.
I angled my body toward the room, resting my elbows on the bar behind me, and watched as she made her rounds. Something made her glance my way. She was smiling at whatever the couple at the table was saying to her, but I could tell she wasn’t listening to them.
When she mumbled something in parting and glided over to the bar, I didn’t move a muscle. I was frozen, captured like a bird in her hand. She stopped in front of me.
“How did you like the show?” she asked without a hint of recognition. Her eyes said differently, though. They searched behind my mask, my lips, my hands, everywhere that wasn’t covered.
After several minutes seemed to pass by, Crocket spoke up. “Are you going to answer her?”
Irritated at his presence, I gave him the finger without moving my elbow off the bar. “Are you going to babysit me all night?” It was said under my breath, but Blue made a sound, her eyes widening at me.
“What did you just say?” she asked.
“I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to this fuc—” I turned my head, but Crocket was gone, the coward. I didn’t even see a trace of him as I looked around. I straightened in my seat. “Never mind. My friend… well, I was talkin’ and, before he… whatever.” My words were slurring, not connecting, and I was starting to feel pissed off.
I turned around and faced the bar, suddenly tired. Crocket’s drink sat untouched next to my water. I reached for it and threw it back, swallowing down the burn.
Blue’s hand touched my shoulder and I shuddered, either from the whiskey or from her forgiving touch.
“Pinn,” she whispered. Her arms went around my waist and I felt her breasts pressing against my rounded back. I closed my eyes and reveled in the feel of her.
She let me go and sat down on Crocket’s empty stool. “It feels like its been forever. You don’t look good, sweet man.”
I didn’t turn to look at her, just kept my eyes closed.
“I finally got a place,” she said after a minute. “I really like it there. I’ve been working a lot, Bunny wants to start increasing my sets once a week. I’m almost over the moon about it.” I heard the smile in her voice, but she sounded flat. “How have you been, Pinn?”
She didn’t touch me, but I felt it, nonetheless. Like little spi
rit fingers, I felt her caress upon my whole being. In my whiskey haze, my body was floating in a sea of her words as she continued to talk. Each syllable, each vowel like glittering fish swimming around me and holding me up.
“—I’m not interested, sorry,” she was saying.
Huh?
“Oh, don’t be like that, sweetheart.” A man’s voice.
“Sir, I’ll say it one—” She yelped.
Red lights danced across my vision, and I heard a loud bellow. It was coming from me.
My eyes now open, I stood up and faced the fucker who dared to mess with Blue. He was broad, tall, and wore head-to-toe black. My right fist flew straight into the man’s masked face, while my left punched him in the gut.
Shouts filled the room. Someone tried to pull me away. The masked man on the floor rolled over onto his side, causing his top hat to come off. That’s when I saw the long, thick black braid.
Confusion, shock, then cold fear rushed through me like lightning.
“Hey, kid. Come on, you need to get out of here.” Crocket’s voice broke through the chaos that was raining down around me.
I stumbled back, almost tripping over my feet. A firm hand held me by the arm, pulling me into the shadows. I searched for Blue. Her wintery eyes were on mine where she stood at the bar.
I felt a pinch of something at my neck and tried to swat it away, but my hands weren’t working like they should. They were heavy, fat, and useless. The stinging in my neck started to burn, as if a thousand bees were in my veins. Black spots danced across my vision as the sting traveled down my arm, freezing my lungs mid-breath.
What the fuck was happening?
As the darkness descended and I felt myself fall, I could have sworn I heard Blue whisper in my ear, “Just breathe. Breathe.”
14
Shards of Glass
Cold. Hard. Dark.
My eyes weren’t working. My tail bone hurt like a mother fucker. The smell of mold and metal and wet concrete permeated everything around me. Shivering, I tried to turn around, to stretch my cramped body, but to no avail. That’s when I realized I was back in the cage.
Memories floated up toward the surface now. Blue. Singing. Crocket. A fox mask. Whiskey.
I had been at Mesmer, watching Blue preform. Crocket had been there. And something else… something bad. Something I had to know, right now.
Panicked, I searched my mind, throwing images around like they were books in a madman’s library. I pulled as many memories apart as I could, then frantically combined them, searching for clues. Nothing. Not a single one was what I was looking for.
What was it I needed to know?
Fuck!
I heard his footsteps on the stairs, the click of his cane on the concrete. My eyes were open to the darkness, but not a trace of light could be found.
My throat was dry as I swallowed the fear down. Being afraid did nothing. I had to stay in control, numb myself, let him have his say and then he’d leave me alone.
His steps came closer, until finally they stopped.
“Pinn, my boy. You fucked up.” Pop’s tone was almost conversational, but I didn’t take the bait. I’d learned that lesson a long time ago.
I the click of his flashlight, heard the creaking of his knees, as if he was squatting down in front of my cage.
“But I’m going to give you a chance to come clean, son.”
I waited patiently, still in pitch-black darkness, my pretzeled body screaming in pain as the seconds ticked by. My arms were wrapped around my naked legs, my chin tucked between my knees and my chest. The cage’s metal bars cut into my back and skull.
I heard a rustling then and felt something brush my knuckles.
“Take it,” Pop demanded.
I uncurled my fingers and felt the bars of the cage and whatever that tickling thing was he held. I pulled it through the bars, my hands and fingers examining it. It felt like rope. Thick, hair-like.
My heart pounded loudly in my chest as I felt the thing’s length. A braid of hair.
Fucking shit.
“You ready to tell me now, boy?”
“Yes, Pop,” I whispered, the old fear taking over. I gripped the braid in my fist and tried to draw in a deep breath.
“Good. Meet me upstairs. I think I’ll need a drink for this tale.” He laughed at his own pun, his flashlight creating wobbly circles on the concrete as the laughter and his steps moved further away. When his cane hit the top on the stairs, he flicked on the switch, flooding the cellar with bright light.
I ignored the pain as the sudden light pierced my brain. I saw the stairs to my right first, through the bars of my old cage, then I faced forward, narrowing my eyes on the latch that was left unlocked a few inches in front of me. I pushed the door open with my hand and crawled out on my hands in knees onto the cold floor, closing my eyes against the pain that attacked every joint in my tight body.
“Fuck!” I hissed, opening my eyes. I hung my head, my energy drained, and that’s when I saw the braid. It wasn’t black. It was a true azure blue.
At first, my brain couldn’t process what it was looking at. It just shut down cold, like a stupid, broken thing. But then realization hit.
“No.” I shook my head. “Oh no, no, no, nooooo!” I stood up, fell. Cursed. Tried again, stumbled but remained standing this time. “No… no fucking…no!”
Naked, wobbling like a drunk sailor, I made it to the stairs, willing my circulation to return right the fuck now. I had to hurry. I had to find Blue. I had to make sure she was still alive. I had to protect her.
You may be too late, a dark voice whispered.
Fuck you, I whispered back.
Once I found her, I’d take her somewhere he’d never find her. And if… if I was too late…
I’d kill him. I’d tear him into a thousand fucking pieces.
Finally, I’d reached the top. Like an electric storm, I raced down the hall, turning the corner, and went through the back where Pop sat at his fucking desk, a glass of something amber in his hand.
I held the braid in my fist and raised it in the air, shaking it like a warrior from some Greek tragedy. “Where? Where is she, Pop?”
He took a sip, hiding a grin. “No idea what you’re talking about, Pinn.”
“Don’t lie to me!” I screamed. “Where is she?” I looked around the room, trying to see if there was anything around that could offer me any clue.
A wheezy laugh. “Well damn. I had no idea you were even interested in girls, Pinn. So what’s her name?” he asked.
I paused, measuring his words, sifting the almost lies, the motives.
Maybe he didn’t have her. But he knew about her.
I studied the braid in my hand, willing it to tell me if this was really her hair, or if it were some devious, sadistic mind-fuck Pop was throwing at me.
I heard Pop sigh and I looked at him. He put down his drink and picked up a metallic purple music box, about the size of his palm.
“A pretty young thing came to see me the other day.” He pointed his chin in my direction, eyeing the braid in my hand. “Had hair about that color.”
I swallowed. Pop knew I could sense a lie. He chose his words carefully.
“She asked for you.” He worked his mouth into an expression of disgust and his nostrils flared. “By name, too. Described you to a fuckin’ T, she did.” He lifted the lid on the box and the tiny piano inside caught onto a gear, releasing only a few notes before it clanged and repeated the process over and over.
Pop made a face, grabbed a little tool, and tinkered with the box. When he grinned, he flipped the box over, wound the key, and set it on the desk. The notes to Every Time We Say Goodbye started to play as soon as he lifted the hinged lid again.
I blinked, totally thrown off my train of thought. Like an outsider looking in at the situation, I saw myself standing naked in a workshop. A tall young man built and trained to be a killer. Short, cropped brown hair. Odd colored eyes that had once been told
they resembled twilight. A song that played a mournful tune, haunting, winding its melody into the molecules in the air.
“I looked into her, of course,” I heard Pop say. “Made a few phone calls this morning.”
My heart skipped a beat and I held my breath.
“I was going to invite her here, you know.” Pop met my eyes. “But someone beat me to it. Seems like this little slut gets around. Real popular.”
“Just fucking tell me, Pop. Where is she?”
He grabbed his drink and took a sip, then swirled it around. “I believe an old friend has her. One who I’d thought was fucking dead.” In a flash, something flies in the air and lands at my feet. Pepper’s braid.
Every emotion I had tried all my life to never feel flooded me then.
“Who helped you?” he asked.
“I did.” The sound of Crocket’s voice behind me didn’t even faze me a bit. I didn’t care about a goddamned thing right now but Blue.
“That’s what I thought. Well, I think you learned your lesson, Pinn. No need for me to dole out any punishment. You’re as much to blame for what happened as Pepper was.” Pop poured himself another drink and raised it. “Here’s to irony. Like karma, she’s one tough bitch to swallow.” He threw the drink back.
I lunged.
I grabbed the bottle, breaking it on the edge of the desk and raised it up high.
Instantly, hands held me back, seconds before I could use it to slice open Pop’s neck.
“No, Pinn.” Crocket’s voice was strained with the effort of holding me back. “He’s not worth it.”
Rage burned in my gut, wanting to escape. “The fuck he’s not!”
Pop’s eyebrow raised. “The fuck who’s not?”
“Drop the bottle, Pinn. Walk away. Come on,” Crocket said calmly, pushing me with enough strength to move me a few feet back.
“I’m not going with you, Crocket. Stay out of it.” I seethed, spitting, not dropping my gaze from Pop’s face.
