by Liz K. Lorde
AFTER I SCORE that bottled deliciousness I was thinking about earlier, I push the glass front door and step outside. Taking a sip from my drink, I get a nice cold taste of perfectly roasted coffee, refreshingly cool milk, delightful bursts of sugar and tantalizing caramel.
See but I’m so enamored with what I’m drinking, I walk straight into something big and hard. Promptly after, I jerk back and nearly fall, causing my drink to spill all over the man that I’ve just carelessly bumped into.
Oh shit, I got the whole drink on him too. And he’s wearing a really expensive looking Italian suit. “I’m so sorry,” I blurt out, and instantly my head takes me back to the day that I skipped town. That’s when I realize it’s the guy. It’s that guy who I kept seeing when I went for coffee and tea deliciousness. Wow I can’t believe this, God this is so embarrassing.
“Fuck,” the man says in a frustrated tone, not even looking at me just yet. He’s just horrified at what I’ve done to his black and pink striped suit, “do you have any idea how much this—“ he looks over to me, and he tightens up his face to restrain the obvious anger. Something shifts in his small green eyes when he recognizes me.
We stand apart from one another, the seconds awkwardly ticking by as citizens move around us.
“Sorry miss,” he says, completely changing his tone of voice when he notices I have a pair of tits. How unusual.
“No no,” I reply, “it’s not your fault – I’m sorry I really should have been paying more attention. I can’t really,” I point at his suit and cock my head to the side, “I mean that, it’s just, that looks really expensive I could give you a few bucks but…”
“No,” he waves a hand, closing his eyes for a moment, “no it’s just a suit. I don’t do what I do to make ‘clean my suits’ money. I have ‘buy new suits’ money,” the man explains with the hint of an accent. I mean he’s wearing Italian, and he looks sort of Italian, but it’s not like I know a lot of Italians. I’d feel really dumb if I assumed where he was from and got it blatantly wrong. He does look impressively handsome, but there’s something about the way his nose is crooked and his green eyes are small. Small and dishonest; like they’re hiding something that I shouldn’t be picking up on. “You know I’ve seen you around here quite a bit. If you want,” he starts, “you could make it up to me. I just need a change of clothes and I could buy us both something to drink,” he points to my empty cup, “seeing as how you’re going to need more anyway.”
“Um,” I vocalize like it’s taking time deciding on this. I may have been angry with Connifer, but I had zero intention of being disloyal to him. He was the only good thing in my life right now, and maybe that’s why it’s all so scary for me right now, thinking about a future with him, a future without him.
Was I even supposed to be loyal to him though? What if that was it. What if those were the last stupid words that we spoke to each other, and he doesn’t want me back? “Sorry,” I pull myself out of my reverie, “but I’ve actually got a boyfriend and he probably wouldn’t like it if we did that. Even if it’s just coffee.” He does seem like the possessive type, and this guy’s given me eyes before.
“Tch,” he sounds and tilts his head, leering at me with those lifeless green eyes. “And? You’ve got someone who sticks their dick in you – you don’t think I have three different girls that I’m fucking right now? I’ve seen the way you at look at me.” His tone of voice grows darker, menacing. “I think you owe me.” He sweeps a hand through his short, pushed back blonde hair. There’s a golden ring on his pinky finger, and a heartbeat later he steps towards me, “come on, baby. I can show you a better time than any other boy out here. Let’s have some fun.”
I may have always craved attention, and maybe before I got here I would have fallen for a douche bag like this. But not now. Not ever. “Not happening, asshole. I was being nice okay? I wouldn’t touch your pencil dick if it ended world hunger.” I turn on my heel and start walking away, briefly considering going the other way and heading to Connifer’s just to be safe.
Blondie grabs my wrist from behind and yanks me right back to him. Pain blossoms at the spot where he grabs me, and I twist to face him, ready to claw his eyes out at this point. He looks at me with this childish sneer, “Friendly warning sweetcheeks. Talk like that around these parts, it’ll get you killed.” The way that he says it is unnerving. Before I can protest further, surprisingly, he lets me go, and I nearly stumble backwards. There’s heat in my heart, and I want to smack this creep, but I fight back against that impulse. Some people continue to walk by us like nothing’s happening, so much for chivalry these days. “Go on,” Creep says, running a thumb over his nose, “before I change my mind. Whore.”
It takes all of my strength to not say anything more. As I leave, the only thought that goes through my mind is that I should have spat on him.
CHAPTER 16
VIVIAN
AFTER TAKING A BUS and getting home, I had to take a shower to wash the filth of that creep off of me. I’d spent some time napping and hoping to hear from Connifer, but he never got back to me. After trying to get ahold of both Slim and Waingro, and getting neither, I made my way to Ryker’s skate park in hopes of finding Slim in person.
I’m wearing more of the thrifty clothes that I’d picked up from one of the local homeless services. Maroon pleather leggings which, miraculously, had pockets. White bra and panties, and a Liz Claiborne tank top that I managed to find; it’s got a nice blue floral pattern against a white base, and maybe I’m goofy or something but it feels like it compliments the leggings well.
The park itself isn’t so busy today. Some kids, no older than eight or nine maybe, practice how to grind on one of the straight and narrow rails that are close to the ground. They’re fully protected in their various colored gear; some blue, some red, and two of the girls are wearing pink. Aside from that, just the usual riff raff of teens and people in their twenties.
It doesn’t take me long to find Slim Charles, who is sitting at one of the stone benches facing an eight foot deep bowl. The curious thing about it, is that it seems to be abandoned. There’s graffiti that covers it around the rim, but the bowl itself is filled with broken skateboards, old and ratty shirts, deadwood, blackened glass and other things. Probably some of which are drug related.
Right when I walk up to Slim, “Hey,” I call out, raising my hand.
But he doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t acknowledge me in the slightest.
So I sit beside him. He’s wearing a blue denim jacket that is open, over a plain white tee, and he’s wearing baggy dark stonewash jeans.
Finally, for some reason, he turns his head to look at me. “Let me guess,” he says, “you want somethin?”
“What’d I do?” I ask completely baffled.
“Besides not a thing for me the whole time you’ve been here?” He tilts his head, “you didn’t listen, neither. That’s what you did, so I dunno what you could want from me.”
“Look, I’m sorry for whatever I did or didn’t do,” I start off, “but I’m looking for Waingro—“
Charles turns his head from me, and then shakes his head, “Guess you don’t check the papers,” he says without looking at me, “saw him as John Doe #2.”
Nausea worms it’s way through my stomach and up my chest, then through my throat. “You mean… he’s dead?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t understand,” I press my brows down instinctively, “what happened?”
“Motherfucker got high,” Charles ejaculates, turning his head to look at me for emphasis, “how else? You think he just went to cracktown and asked for a rock cuz people be likin him?” Charles’s nostrils flare, and lines crease on his forehead, “no. How much were you payin’ him?”
I swallow, but the rock stays lodged in my throat, “Shit,” I murmur to myself.
“Yeah,” Charles says bitter. “Shit,” he continues. “I ain’t got no love for the man, V. But I told you to keep away, and you go and do th
e opposite. If I speak, and you pretend to listen, what’s the point?”
I turn my head away from Charles and focus on the spot between my legs. Mentally running through all the motions to try and come up with how much money I’ve been giving that man, and when. This is all my fault. I should have listened. I know I should have.
Now he’s dead. Now he’s dead and it’s my fault and I’m back to square one for finding my mom.
I didn’t want to have to involve Connifer. Didn’t want it to have to come down to using his status in the mob… I screwed up. “I think,” I wiggle my head, trying not to cry out in public. I sniff in a short burst of humid air, “I think I gave him sixty the last time I saw him? It’s hard to remember…” I swallow again and I bring my gaze back to Charles’s heavy copper eyes. “Did I do that?” I ask in a wavering voice
Charles nods his head.
“He said that he knew my mom,” I say aloud, more to myself than to him.
“That’s what they do,” Charles says, “they lie. They lie and they get they fix. He ever help you? Or he just talk about helping you.”
I don’t answer the question purely out of embarrassment.
“S’what I thought,” Charles nods his head to himself. “He didn’t know about your moms, nobody does. What makes you so sure she even came here?” He asks like he’s hunting game, and I’m the corner prey.
“I guess, I guess I don’t know that. I don’t know,” I admit, clutching my hands into tight fists against my knees. I’d never even thought of that for some reason, that it could all be a lie and she never even moved here. Somehow that hurt me more, because that means I’ve never even been close; I’ve never even had an inkling of truth in my life.
“Look,” Charles says with some sympathy in his voice, “I’m not saying you didn’t make a mistake, doing what you did,” feeding an addicts overdosing habit and enabling him to kill himself? Mistake sounds like understatement from where I’m sitting. “But you can’t let guilt get to you. Okay?” He affirms as guilt cloaks itself around me in that familiar dysphoria. “He pulled the trigger, you feel. He pulled that trigger.”
I just gave him the gun. “Right,” I croak out.
“I’ll keep looking,” he leans forward to meet my gaze, “for your moms. But I’ve got my own people to take care of, V. My own shit. Every day I’m out here is another day I could be busted. Keep your head up.”
I stand up with the grace of a newly passed ghost. Without saying a word, I shamble back to my truck and sit back in it’s seat. I sit there for quite a while before I break from that spell, and I stuff my keys into the ignition. I’m just going to drive for a while, but I think I know where I’ll go.
IT’S EMPTY IN HERE. But that’s not unusual. This secret place feels like it’s my home away from home… away from home. Moving down the broken aisle of the abandoned chapel, my eyes fall on the busted pews on either side of me. Some of them broken and caved in only on the one end, others are totally decimated. Near to the still standing alter, on one of the pews to my right, are a set of wooden beams that come down on the pews – the beams themselves splintered towards their ends. Everything in here reminds me of Con. Makes my heart hurt at the thought of us not working anymore.
Stepping over the occasional piece of broken glass, I make my way to the rising steps that lead up to the altar. Turning on my heel, I slowly sit my butt down on one of the steps, and I curl myself into a tight ball, letting my head dip forward so that I’m looking at the darkened floor. The only light that moves into the building comes from the stained glass windows, that somehow went undamaged, and the hole in the roof where the beams come down.
I spend a good ten to fifteen minutes sitting there rather uncomfortably; wrapped up in the thoughts of my own guilt and disappointment. When, from nowhere, I feel a strange sense of dread. A familiar one too. The rush of water around me in my mind, I can’t see anything but black. From that, I hear the sound of bubbles; the sound of a girl struggling to survive.
I’m being drowned.
It feels so real.
My throat constricts and breathing becomes a challenge. I can hear a womans voice now, a girl’s, calling out for help. Mommy! Mommy please!
The words sear my mind and I start to see it how it was.
I remember now, like cutting through a thicket of old vines that were meant to seal some mysterious place from me. The way that I was drowned when I was so young; that’s why I only half remembered, I was just a little girl.
And my Mother was the one that drowned me.
CHAPTER 17
CONNIFER
PRACTICING ON THE DRAW of my .45 revolver and six inch Hauntzer steel blade is the only thing that keeps me sane. Keeps me from thinking too much on the way that I let Vivian out the door and out of my life, no matter how brief, my heart doesn’t want to take it. I’ll have a silenced pistol for the heist, but I never do a score without my trusted revolver.
There’s a knock on the door suddenly, and I crane my head in response. Bringing my head back, I look over to Morgana whose sleeping in her crib, and I walk over to check on her. She’s still there alright, dreaming in her purple blanket with her pacifier practically glued to her mouth. “Don’t worry little lass,” I whisper, “I won’t let ‘em disturb your dreams.”
Making my way to the front door, another set of knocks come and my heart jolts at the thought of it being Vivian. If it’s anyone but her, I swear I’ll get at least one good exercise in before this score goes down. I stuff away my knife and gun in the back of my pants, and when I undo the latch on the door and announce that I’m on my way, I grab the door’s handle and swing it open.
Helena.
Fuck, what’re you doing here already? “Helena,” I say stiffly, an undercurrent of anger evident in my voice from all the knocking. This can’t be good. I thought that I’d have more time with the baby, thought that Helena wouldn’t be out so soon. Is she truly clean?
“Connifer,” she smiles coyly at me. “I got out on good behavior and testing clean. Can I see her?”
“Are you going to be taking her back?”
She looks at me confused, “Well, yeah. I mean I’m out, Con.”
I pull in a slow breath. She’s not going to take kindly to this. “Helena you know I’ve got love for you, or I wouldn’t have done this in the first place. And I’m okay with you seeing her.”
“Right,” she says and bobs her head, “but it’s my kid. She’s mine. What are you getting at? That I can… that I can see my kid but I can’t take her back?”
“I think that’d be best for ‘er. Honestly.” I straighten out my back, letting her know that I mean business. “You just got out, you’re happy, you’re feeling great. But there’s going to be a world of temptation all around you…”
“Listen asshole, you can’t just tell me no.”
“I just did, Hel. I’ll let you see her plenty, hell you can sleep over if you really want. But I think you need to prove to yourself—“
“To you, you mean. It’s always about you, Con.”
“No,” I tell her sternly. “No it’s, it’s not about me. It’s about the girl. Keep yourself clean for a few weeks out in the real world? That’s when I’ll give her back to you. You dropped her on me, she’s my charge now. And I’ll be damned if you fuck things up for this little girl.”
“Fuck you Connifer.” She puts her hands on my chest and tries to push me, but I don’t budge. “What the fuck makes you any better? Huh?” Her words slither beneath my skin. “You’re a killer. A thug. You’ll never be anything more than a binge drinking shit like your father.”
“Kiss my fuckin’ door and come back when you’ve got some damn sense.” I slam the door on her and lock it shut, listening to her curse me out. I just want to bash my head against the door ‘till shit makes sense again in my messed up world.
Chapter 18
VIVIAN
I TRIED TO GET AHOLD of my dad, but for some damn reason he just won’t pick
up the phone. I park on the side of the road just outside of Connifer’s place.
No wonder dad couldn’t tell me anything about mom. He wanted to protect me from that horrible truth. Moving over to Connifer’s front door, I bring my fist up to knock on it’s face. But I notice a yellow note on the door entitled ‘Vivian’, and I remove it from the door’s face.
Vivian … key underneath the plant … will talk when I’m back.
-C
I crumple up the note and put it in my pocket. After that, I lift up the potted plant to find a golden house key; unlocking the door, I close it and lock it behind me. “Connifer?” I call just in case he’s still here.
Nothing.
The glorious apartment is near total darkness, aside from the blue night-light dancing across the corridor where Morgana should be. I creep through the living room softly, this strange sense of dread cloaking me as I tiptoe through the place like a lost ghost.
“Con?” I say once more to no reply.
Carefully maneuvering past the couch, I put my hands out to feel around for any objects I might be missing. I make my way to the hallway with the night light splashing against it’s wall, and I put my hand there. Heat beating faster, I step forward one foot after the other and peek inside Morgana’s room. The room is dark and only illuminated by the teal night light.
I think that whole encounter with Blondie and that revelation about my Mom has put me on edge.
I let out a sigh of relief and saunter over to Morgana’s crib, and I find her there rustling in her blanket, just beginning to whine from me waking her up.
Shoot.
CHAPTER 19
CONNIFER
DRIVING THROUGH THE the streets, dusk passed only fifteen minutes ago, and I still can’t shake the anger throbbing throughout my body. The Victoria and Baxter Exhibit For Arts is closed for renovations for the next two nights, just like we’d planned it all for. It’s strictly a painting gallery, but they’ve got some of the most sought after goods in the whole west coast of America. Their bookings for entry stay maxed out for months at a time, and they only let the highest of rollers and players in Chaos have special access for the right price.
