The Wild Side

by Lilley, R. K.

  I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  “Oh yeah, I’m twenty-four, right? Same diff, to a forty year old, I’m sure.”

  “No, no, not at all. Twenty is not at all the same as twenty-four, even to an old guy like me. And what the fuck do you mean, you’re going to a rave? Was that a serious statement or some kind of joke?”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s a too young thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Do they still have raves? Do they still call them raves?” I was getting more agitated by the second. I really couldn’t tell if she was just messing with me, and I couldn’t stand the thought of her going to some sort of a drug party.

  “They do. And does it matter what they call them? I was just trying to use a reference that someone your age might understand.”

  “So you want me to know that you’re going to some kind of a party where you’ll…like suck on a pacifier and do ecstasy?”

  “No pacifier. This one will be more about neon body paint and some Skrillex.”

  “And drugs,” I added, fists clench. I really couldn’t let her leave like this, and I had no idea how to stop her.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Aren’t drugs a part of being too young?”

  “Don’t do this. Don’t act like this. You know I’ll worry if you leave now.”

  The doorbell rang again, and we still just stared at each other.

  She turned off her music, then looked at me, arms folded across her chest. “Go get that,” she mouthed at me.

  I went to answer it, feeling too agitated to deal even with the lovely, pleasant Lourdes.

  I opened the door and tried to smile.

  Lourdes smiled back, but it faltered as she studied me. She was a sleek, beautiful woman, with big dark eyes, and masses of wavy black hair. “Is this a bad time?”

  I shook my head, then stood back and waved her in. “Can I get you a drink?” I asked, glancing at the stairs, wondering what Iris was going to do, how she was going to act, if she was going to leave. I found that I didn’t care now what else she did, as long as she didn’t leave. Lourdes could draw her own conclusions and think whatever she wanted about me.

  I couldn’t let Iris leave like this.

  “No, thank you,” said Lourdes. “Let me go play around in your backyard. I’d like to see how the light is going to work out there at this time of day. Actually, you should come with me.”

  I followed her out, leaving the back door open and trying to keep the bottom of the stairs in sight so Iris couldn’t slip away without me knowing.

  That didn’t last long.

  Lourdes called my name, I turned to look, and a few minutes passed while she set up.

  “Excuse me,” I said when I couldn’t stand another minute, striding back to the house.

  I heard the front door shutting as I stepped inside, and I broke into a sprint.

  I caught her in the courtyard, both of her bags in tow.

  She shot me one look and I started shaking my head.

  “Don’t,” I told her, having to clench my fists to keep from grabbing the bags out of her hands, to keep from forcing her bodily back into the house. I had no right to stop her. “Why are you taking all your things?”

  She shook her head, not quite looking at me. “It’s not a big deal. Listen, I’ll give you a call later.”

  I took a step closer, and she moved farther down the drive.

  I followed. “You don’t have a phone.”

  “I’ll find one to borrow.”

  “You don’t know my number.”

  “So tell it to me.”

  I rambled it off, followed by, “You need to write it down.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Forget the call. Just come back inside.”

  “Stop,” she said faintly, still moving away, still taking all of her things with her.

  “Will you just come back tonight? Please?”

  We were nearly to the end of the drive, then we were past it. She didn’t stop, rolling her suitcase into the road, still wearing those ridiculous heels.

  “When I tell you I need space right now, you’re going to want to listen to me,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “I’ll give you a call later.”

  She turned her back on me and began to walk more briskly, clearly in a hurry to get away.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It took me all of five seconds to decide that I needed to follow her.

  Lourdes was in the entryway, looking concerned, when I strode back inside. “I think we should do this later,” she said, before I could so much as make up an excuse. “I can tell this is a bad time.”

  “It is, sorry. Something…unexpected came up.”

  She waved that off. “No worries. We’ll reschedule when you have time.”

  I agreed and didn’t even see her out.

  I had no time to waste.

  I turned out of the neighborhood, driving my black Prius, just as she got into a cab.

  I followed. I was getting better at it, though it was odd to try it in the full light of day. I kept wanting to duck, but I could see the back of her blonde head, and it never turned around, staying downturned the entire drive.

  The taxi led me to one of the worst neighborhoods in town. It was close to UNLV. I could recall reading something, years ago, where they’d made the housing around the university cheaper, but hadn’t limited eligibility for it to students, the end result being students living two doors down from drug dealers, frat houses next to illegal cathouses, and other fun scenarios.

  It made for an interesting off campus life for the students, but I supposed it was all par for the course at the school of broken dreams.

  I idled at the curb a few houses away and watched her get out of the taxi. This was really the worst-case scenario. When I was fretting about where she lived (which I had plenty) this was just what I worried about.

  She entered the downstairs unit of a tiny duplex parked between what had to be a large frat house, and just from the general condition of it and the people loitering in the yard, what I would have bet money was a crack house.

  I felt helpless. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being in a place this unsafe, though she clearly lived here.

  I couldn’t even call her, and as much as I wanted to follow her to her front door, she’d been very clear about needing her space.

  I also couldn’t shake the look she’d given me before she left.

  My mind had been stuck on that look, obsessed with deciphering it, for the entire drive over. It hadn’t been anger, or even strictly hurt, though there had been some of that mixed in.

  It took me a while, but I did place it.

  She’d been disappointed.

  In me. As though she’d expected better from me than how I’d acted.

  I didn’t like myself very much just then.

  Finally, I made myself leave, but it was far from easy, and the last thing I wanted to do.

  It was a hellish day of waiting and worrying. I tried to work, but it was no good. I tried to watch TV, and even found myself watching some bad reality shows that seemed right up her alley, but I didn’t stay distracted for long.

  I went grocery shopping, then came home and made an elaborate dinner for myself. I made enough for Iris, still holding out hope that she’d just show up.

  She didn’t.

  I went to bed at eight and then tossed and turned for hours. I must have fallen into a fitful sleep, because my phone woke me up when it started ringing at around three a.m.

  “Hello,” I mumbled, mind still waking.

  “Dair,” Iris spoke into my ear, her tone so different, so wrong, that my whole body tightened up with that one word.

  “Iris, where are you?” I asked.

  I was on my back, phone to my ear. I could see my chest expanding with a deep breath at the bottom of my vision as I waited for her to answer.

  “I’m at a…party. I don’t feel well, Dair, and I need a ride.”


  I sat up. “I’ll be there right away. Do you have a street number, or some directions to where you are?”

  I moved to my closet and pulled on a pair of sweatpants one-handed while she named off an address. “Okay, honey, I’m on my way.”

  “Wait!” she said, still sounding wrong. “Stay on the phone with me. Talk to me. I need to stay awake.”

  I was already in my car, typing the address into my GPS system. “What’s going on? You don’t sound like yourself.”

  “I had a drink, and it’s not agreeing with me.”

  “What kind of a drink?”

  “A cocktail. I don’t know what was in it. It was orange. And I think somebody slipped something into it.”

  I felt my rare temper starting to boil up. “Can you go out front and wait for me? Will that be safer for you or worse?”

  I couldn’t hear much on her end but loud background noise for a while, and I was more than a little concerned that she’d passed out, but finally, mercifully, she responded, “I’m out front. Are you close? I’m really out of it, Dair. I can’t think straight. It scares me.”

  I cursed and sped up. “I am five minutes away. Just hold on. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you, honey.”

  The location was a large warehouse on the darkened street across the freeway from the strip. The place was packed, neon paint covered partygoers loitering outside and walking in the street to the point that I had to honk at several stoned kids just to park on the curb out front.

  Even with all of the young painted punks around, though, I had no trouble finding her. She would always stand out.

  She was wearing some tiny white shorts and a white string bikini top, or at least, I thought they’d started out white. She was covered head to toe in all sorts of neon, some of powder, some of paint. Even her hair, pulled up into a high ponytail, was more pink than blonde, at the moment.

  She was standing, swaying on her feet, as though she was afraid to sit down.

  I rushed up to her, pulling her against me, but even then, she barely seemed to see me, truly out of it.

  “Let’s go home, honey,” I told her, taking her large bag off her shoulder, putting it on mine, guiding her to my car with an arm around her waist.

  My voice, or my movements, seemed to take her out of her daze a bit. She pushed her body into the front of mine, her arms going around my neck, breasts rubbing into my chest. Even at that contact, I wasn’t turned on. I was too worried to get hard. I didn’t like the state I’d found her in.

  “You came for me. Thank you.”

  I just grunted and started herding her to the car again. She went easily enough.

  I’d driven my dark gray TT, because it was fast and easy to maneuver.

  The car was barely used, and she was getting neon body paint all over the passenger seat. I didn’t give it a second thought, couldn’t have cared less. The only thing I cared about just then was getting her home safely.

  She didn’t pass out right away, shifting restlessly as I started to drive, reclining her seat.

  In a gesture of pure affectionate comfort, one that she had taught me, I put my hand on her knee and squeezed.

  She took it completely the wrong way, parting her legs, and pushing my hand up into the pant of her tiny shorts, rubbing my knuckles against her pussy.

  Surprised, I jerked my hand away, sending her a shocked look.

  She gave me a doped up looking smile, reaching up to untie her bikini. She was topless in a flash, fondling herself with one hand, and pulling my fingers back to her pussy with the other.

  I pulled away again gently, looking back at the road.

  She was nearly naked, her luscious body covered in some intriguing paint, and I wasn’t even tempted. She was just too out of it. God only knew what had been slipped into her drink.

  “You’re not yourself,” I told her. “We need to get you home, get some food and water in you, and let you sleep this off.”

  She made a noise, a sort of sigh, and I glanced at her.

  She smiled at me. “See, that’s why I need you. You’re the only one looking out for me. You’d be sad if something happened to me, wouldn’t you, baby?”

  Her eyes were drifting closed. I didn’t think she expected an answer, but I gave her one, anyway. “Yes, you sweet girl, I’d be very, very sad.”

  She didn’t say another word.

  By the time I made it home, she had passed out cold.

  I carried her inside and up to my bed, and she didn’t so much as twitch. I was worried, really worried. I thought about calling an ambulance, because I couldn’t rouse her, and she seemed to me to be barely breathing, but I honestly didn’t know if that was an overreaction.

  Finally, I decided to call a neighbor, two estates down, that I knew to be a doctor.

  I would owe him huge after this, because he came right over, not five minutes after I’d called, physician’s bag in hand.

  John was a small man in his sixties, with glasses and a kind face. I’d always liked him, though we didn’t see each other much.

  I led him up to my bedroom, telling him in detail about her condition.

  “You think she was drugged?”

  “It sounds like it. She said she had a drink, and she was really out of it when I picked her up.”

  I’d pulled a sheet up to her neck, and my fists clenched when one of the first things he did upon sitting down on the bed was to pull it down far enough to listen to her heart rate with his stethoscope.

  “What is she covered in?” he asked, sounding more curious than judgmental.

  I flushed. “Some sort of body paint. At the party she was at, everyone was wearing it.”

  He examined her briefly and asked me a few more questions.

  “Should I call an ambulance? Does she need to go to a hospital?”

  His brows drew together as he stood. “At this time, I’d say no. Whatever she was given seems to be mild. She likely didn’t consume an entire dose. Unless she gets worse, I’d say the remedy here is to let her rest. Call me if anything changes.”

  I walked him to the door. Before he made to leave, he gave me a probing look. “Is she your…girlfriend?”

  “Sort of,” I said with a wince. I knew everything he must be thinking.

  “Well…you look out for yourself, Alasdair. You’re a good person, a trusting person, but not everyone has good intentions.”

  I smiled tightly. He thought I was an idiot and a sucker. I couldn’t blame him. “Thanks for your help, John.”

  “Any time. Call me if anything changes. She will likely sleep for quite some time and wake up feeling awful, but anything besides that, you call me.”

  “I will. I owe you one.”

  He smiled. “You do. Hurry up on that next book for me. I’ve been looking forward to it for months.”

  I tried to make my smile more convincing. “I’ll get my hands on an advanced copy for you, I swear.”

  “Now we’re talking. That’ll make us even, right there.”

  We exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then he left.

  I went upstairs to check on Iris. She slept on. I stripped what little clothes she had on, trying to make her comfortable. I got a wet cloth from the bathroom, and cleaned most of the paint and powder off, then tucked her in again.

  The sun was starting to come up when I finally fell back to sleep.

  I woke up after eight hours with a splitting headache, Iris still unconscious beside me.

  I checked her breathing and her heart rate, and she didn’t stir.

  She slept on, for five more hours.

  I was a mess by the time she finally woke.

  I was angry and anxious, worried and agitated.

  She was still blinking, struggling to sit up, when I started in on her.

  “What were you doing? What were you thinking?”

  She still looked more than a little out of it, which wasn’t helping my temper.

  “You aren’t ever allowed to pull any shit lik
e that again. Why would you go to a place like that? Why would you put yourself in that position?”

  I glanced at her, and the dazed look was leaving her, being replaced by an expression I didn’t like any better.

  No, in fact, I liked it less.

  “We need some rules here, some structure. What happened last night—that was unacceptable. You aren’t allowed to do things like that, to put yourself in danger like that.”

  She sat up, pushed the covers off, and swung her legs off the side of the bed and onto the floor, her eyes on me the entire time, her gaze turned…insolent. “I’m not allowed, huh?”

  She was completely nude, parts of her still covered in bits of bright paint, her hair still mostly pink, loose and disheveled now. Aside from her voluptuous curves, she looked ridiculously young like that, and it wasn’t helping. In fact, it was the whole fucking problem.

  “No, no you’re not,” I said, my voice hard.

  “Big talk from a guy that told me yesterday that we were just using each other. Remember that?”

  I took an involuntary step back at her tone. “I told you—”

  “I know what you told me, and I know what you think. You think that people our ages can only use each other. Which tells me a lot about what all of this has been…for you.”

  I shook my head, but I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? In a way I had been using her, not just for her body, but for the way she made me feel.

  There was more to it than that. Sure, but I’d taken everything she’d offered, everything I wanted, with my eyes wide open, fully prepared to give back anything she might want from me.

  The big question was, what did she want? She’d never even come close to showing her hand, and so I’d let logic draw the conclusion for me.

  “Let’s just drop it,” I said evenly, trying to calm her, trying to calm myself. “You need a solid meal and—”

  “Quit telling me what I need and forget about telling me what I’m allowed.” As she spoke, she was striding into my bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

  I went down to the kitchen and started making her breakfast. She needed to eat, and I needed to take a moment to get a handle on my temper.

  I thought I’d done a decent job by the time she joined me in the kitchen, wearing a tiny white slip of a dress that must have been stashed in her purse. She had no underwear on with it that I could tell. Her hair was still wet, her face clean and lovely and free of any makeup.