El sat up and stretched.
Their clothes were scattered across the floor. She gathered them with a blush, retracing the steps of the dance, fueled by music only they had heard. Sneaking up behind Riley in the shower, she snatched the washcloth and took charge of scrubbing her champion.
There was another tattoo just above the swell of Riley’s hip. It looked as if the flesh were peeled back and beneath it were scales like the ones on Aella. Tracing them, El found that part of the realism came from a scar along the edge of the folded skin. It was long and rough and when fresh, must have been deep.
“How did you get this?”
Riley’s hands were braced on the wall. Her head drooped, face dripping. The look on it was one El had never seen on Riley before and the sadness there caught her off guard.
“I got jumped by a group of boys right after I came out. Neighborhood punks. I landed on top of some sheetmetal from a construction site.”
El pressed her forehead to Riley’s spine. The water flooded over her and washed her own recent memories away. They had no right to interfere with this. “Did they . . .?”
“Yes.”
She said nothing. Tears welled in her eyes. El had always suspected that this kind of toxic nettle was buried in Riley’s body, but it had to work its way out. She couldn’t force it. For two years she’d dissected Riley’s tiniest word and deed, but only in the last two weeks could she clearly analyze any of them. The shame and powerlessness Riley had to have endured were now extremely clear to El.
She wanted to apologize, or tell Riley that she’d risen from ashes, but both of those were insulting. One implied Riley was weak to begin with and required sympathy to get by, the other implied her strength came from the assault. In fact, Riley was born brave, born to act when others said nothing, because it needed to be done.
“Riley . . . you are a perfect creature.”
“Thank you,” Riley murmured. “For not caring, I mean.”
Mystified, El wrapped her arms around Riley and laid her hands on the smooth tummy. “I do care. But only about you. Were they punished?”
Riley nodded. “My dad made a call. And then he left New York and left me with my grandmother.”
“But you followed?”
Riley heaved a sigh and turned. “I couldn’t take it. Abuela wanted me to go to church and forgive. I don’t forgive. People earn forgiveness. They don’t take it like they took everything else. My dad understands. He teaches me how to control what I feel, how to use it, because that’s what he learned in prison.”
Her makeup was gone, the deep tan of her skin and the dark rose of her lips so beautiful El couldn’t help but kiss them. There were other terrible things she had to ask, and every kiss was a promise that none of it would be begrudged.
“Riley, how did you find Tizóna?”
The muscles of Riley’s jaw flexed as a black eye stared malevolently into space. “I took care of it.”
“What did you do?”
“I should be getting a call any day now from the State Troopers. We can handle that when the time comes.”
“Then you met him.”
“I know his address. And if I don’t hear from them by the time you turn eighteen, I’ll be sure everyone else does too.”
“I love you.”
To her relief, Riley smiled, and the darkness was forgotten. “I called Jay yesterday.”
El blinked back in surprise at the confession. It had been days since she’d even thought about Jay. It seemed like an eternity since he’d tossed her from the car. Something about the memory of his face had turned almost comical in its childish lines. “Why?”
“I wanted to hear it for myself. Hear him gloat about how well he’d tricked you. How stupid you were.” Riley brought their noses together. The hotel soap smelled like mint and citrus. “I’ll handle him too, if you let me. I’ve been itching to fuck him up since day one and I have a pretty good idea how to do it.”
“I’m going to have to do things for myself, you know.”
“Yeah, but you have bigger fish to fry, and boy I hope you fry that meapilas.”
“Mama?”
“Yeah.”
El had never considered getting even with her mother. Now that Riley said it, however, it sounded right, but she had no idea what that would even mean. She was a child, a runaway, a lesbian. In her mother’s circles, it would be her word against Mama’s, and no one would believe her, because she was a “degenerate.”
“That blog is a platform that reaches exactly the right people,” Riley whispered as if she could follow El’s thoughts. “And then there’s your writing. These people are a cancer. They’re killing this country. The way you write, you could speak for so many. Make them visible again.”
“Like you?”
The corner of Riley’s mouth ticked upward. “Yeah, me. I don’t know if you caught this while we were going at it, but I like girls and I fucking suck with words. Actions, though . . . Major turn-on.”
“Well . . . then I guess it’s worth it,” she chuckled.
Riley spun her around slowly and poured a bottle of shampoo over El’s head. As she worked the lather, she made clucking noises with her tongue. “This is seriously the worst dye job I’ve ever seen. Like, what were you doing? Using a garden hose?”
“Walmart sink.”
“Shit. I can go down to the Seven Eleven and get enough stuff to do this right. You wanna stay blonde or do something fun?”
El looked back at the girl over her shoulder. “What did you have in mind?”
“I like the black, to be honest, but for now, till the blonde grows out, why not do a color?”
“Pink.”
Riley seemed surprised. “Pink? I thought you were a fan of green.”
“I am, but . . . I think it needs to be pink.”
“Your mom will be happy with that! It’s such a girlish color!”
El laughed and sputtered as the water cascaded over her face. “No, she won’t. She’ll be furious.”
“Ah. Okay, I get it. This is like a what’s wrong, I thought you liked pink, yeah?”
“Exactly.”
Riley let out a husky giggle and moved on to washing El’s back. She worked her way down until she was crouched at El’s feet looking up lasciviously. “Wanna get something pierced, while we’re at it? Maybe get some ink? Your ID says you’re twenty-one. You could even get a bottle of gin if you wanted.”
“I could, couldn’t I?”
“Fuck could. Should, is more like it.”
El poked her nose indulgently. “That stuff all costs money.”
“It’s on your mother. I made about two grand before I stopped taking money out of your account.”
With a gasp, El took hold of Riley’s wandering hands. “You are clever.”
“Except when you go all poetic. Then I’m an idiot. It’s intimidating as fuck, but I love it.”
While Riley dried off, El sat bundled on the toilet and watched her. The urge to record it all was there. She needed to quantify it, preserve this moment somehow, but until it was safe, she was on hiatus from her platform. She needed a new way to lock it all in ink.
“I want a tattoo. Can we get one together?”
Riley was wearing a towel like a skirt, her breasts and pigments bared. She looked up from her computer in surprise. “You mean, like . . . matching tattoos?”
“Yes. Would you do that with me?” El bit her lip, watching Riley’s face for even the slightest hint of hesitation. “We can get something simple, I don’t care. I think . . . maybe, you know . . . if you don’t want anything specific—”
“Fuck yes! Let’s do it!”
“Really?”
“I love that stuff, El! I designed all my own art, you know.”
El’s mouth dropped open. “You did?”
Riley’s brows were dancing on her forehead. “Wow, I guess we found something you didn’t know about me! I grew up in a tattoo parlor. I know my way around.”
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“I love you!”
Riley returned to her computer with a shy grin. On the screen was a blue dot reading from an address that seemed to be somewhere in California. “Is that just your default? Like do you just go, Brain is on pause, I love Riley.”
“Yes.”
She flushed crimson from her hair to her first rib. “Okay. Just making sure.”
“You’re mine, aren’t you? I’m allowed.”
Riley turned, one lithe and embellished arm slung across the back of the chair. The dark eyes that peeped out at El were mischievous and adoring all at once. “Yeah. That seems right.”
“So what design are we getting tattooed?”
Riley put her chin atop her arm and looked at the ceiling. “I think I have an idea.”
Happy’s Tattoos was extremely cozy—one long glass case with a few feet of space on either side and a single tattooing table in a curtained area. It boasted a large bay window with a raised platform, on which stood several painted mannequins in wigs and subculture gear. It wasn’t the best neighborhood or even the cleanest-looking parlor, but the online reviews were stellar. El seemed ecstatic as she jumped out of her seat, hot pink mane bouncing. That was all Riley could hope for.
Since the first time they’d spoken beneath the tree, understanding that emptiness she saw in El’s eyes had been Riley’s ambition. Now as she was tugged indoors, she realized she had a new one.
Riley wanted to banish every sorrow, fill up every emptiness, and crush every enemy. She wanted to see El happy, for once and for all.
A thin woman who seemed in her sixties appeared. She had spiky white hair streaked with pale violet and arms that read like a catalogue of important life events in vintage punk rock culture. A few long strings of glass beads dangled from her neck and her bright pink lips gave them a huge smile.
“I’m Happy!” Riley wondered how many people replied with their own emotional state before realizing she was telling them her actual name. “You must be the duo from the phone?”
“That’s us.” Laying the drawing out on the counter, Riley finally unfolded it. She’d kept it hidden from El all morning, though the girl begged and pleaded to be in on the surprise. El let out a gasp and clapped a hand over her mouth, a mannerism her mother had likely instilled in her.
“Oh, wow!” The artist spun the page of hotel stationary around and dragged a finger over the pen strokes. Hidden within the pale fractals were the deeper meanings. “This is like those pendants they had in Victorian times. For the queen, yeah? Like . . . the frost fair, right?”
Riley nodded, her face burning hot as El continued to squeeze her hand. “Yeah, so the initials superimpose and make the arms of the snowflake.”
Lifting a pair of magnification glasses, Happy scrutinized the angular script. “Hmm . . . A rounded E and G and a more angular R and V. I love the shading work here. You do this with a plain old Bic?”
She managed a little nod, though she felt strangely self-conscious.
“I dig it! I can definitely turn out a precise graphic from this! You mind if I play with the font a little?”
“Not at all!”
El’s smile was constant. As the artist excused herself to her computer equipment, she threw her arms around Riley’s neck and raked her fingers over Riley’s scalp. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Riley’s mind was a fuzzy mess. As thoughts manifested, they quickly diffused out into her simmering blood. The only tangible things were the smell of the new dye in El’s hair, the tingle that moved over her skin when El touched her, the constant throbbing in her ears. Words came out jumbled. Details vanished into the ether. She just wanted to bury her face in El’s neck and coo.
“This isn’t fair,” she whispered.
El’s hands tucked into her back pockets and tugged her hips closer. “What isn’t?”
“I feel like I’m on drugs, but you’re perfectly fine. Like . . .” She lost her train of thought and had to search for it briefly along the curve of El’s collarbone. “I’m supposed to be making all the moves, planning things, but this is so . . . strange . . . and you’ve had two years . . . two fucking years to cope. I’m behind.”
El was chuckling quietly, strands of electric rose framing her cheekbones. She nipped at Riley’s nose and pressed their foreheads together. “Why do you have to make all the moves?”
She let out a contented sigh. “I’m older. I’ve had girlfriends. Also, I really want to impress you . . . because you know . . . I am so dumb right now, and somehow you’re so rational. It’s unnerving.”
“You know what you are?”
“Hmm?”
El’s mouth found hers, tongue moving with such command it pulled Riley forward off her feet and would have sent her staggering if not for the counter. Left gasping for air, she stared at El’s mischievous face in awe.
“You’re my champion: a big scary wolf who secretly likes belly scratches.”
“Belly scratches is code for . . . sexy stuff, right?”
“In this case, yes.”
“Oh, okay.”
El laughed at her goofy grin. “You’re the same color as your hair.”
“Can’t help it.” She fluffed her shaggy head in a mea culpa. “When you came to Sam’s that first time, I thought you were there to make fun of me. You looked like someone had dared you to come in and talk to me, and you were chickening out, but it was this, yeah?”
El bowed her head and closed her eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I felt.”
“But like . . . when was the first time you saw me? I don’t remember when we crossed paths. I was a little bit . . . you know, defensive.”
“It was your first day.” El hesitated, seemingly constructing yet another poem. Riley was beginning to read her, learn the cadence of her ideas as they moved through her body. El’s rhythm was soothing. It subdued every writhing anxiety, just to stand there and watch her think.
“I washed up on the front steps, trying to find the energy to face another day. Mama had just thrown me out of the car and threatened to starve me for a week if I didn’t raise my Geometry score. I was so ashamed. If you can believe it, I thought I deserved it. I felt like she was doing her best and I was just this tragically awful daughter. I felt guilty and helpless because I didn’t know how to be the thing she wanted me to be. There had to be something wrong with me.”
Riley opened her mouth to curse.
“I know. But it’s what I felt then. I was sure I had to be an evil person to hate my own mother when she was trying to teach me. I never knew anything else. I didn’t know I needed to question my life. At the same time, I was still so sure it was unfair, but how does a person make those two things coexist? It’s impossible and it’s exhausting and eventually something has to give, or you die. I was just so tired, then I heard this loud sound and I turned around and there you were, like you’d just appeared with a clap of thunder. You took off your helmet and there was this gorgeous face . . .” El looked up and Riley’s breath caught in her throat at the perfect mingling of wistful admiration. “You had an expression that said If anyone says one goddamn thing to me about anything, I am going to bite off their nose, and they’ll thank me for clearing their sinuses! That was when your hair was longer, and it had the streaks in it. It glowed royal purple in the sunlight, and you just seemed to sparkle.”
“All the studs,” Riley muttered.
The feeble joke won her a forbearing shake of the head. “You were a queen. You glanced at me as you walked by, like you were daring me to pick a fight.”
With a sudden jolt, Riley’s memory rose from the depths and kicked up moments buried beneath two years of dust. There was the girl in her denim skirt and pink blouse, her dark hair in a single braid and her pale blue eyes wide in astonishment. She’d been so pretty, so primly assembled, so dyed-in-the-wool Southern Belle that Riley was sure she must be one of the mean girls.
“Oh my god, I remember!”
“You looked so confident and so
. . . badass, and everything I wasn’t. I couldn’t help but be curious, and well . . . smitten. I spent my entire day trying to figure out your name without directly asking anyone. That’s why I called you R at first, because no one could remember your name except that it started with an R or something.”
Riley stared into space in shock. “That fast.”
One bare and shapely shoulder hitched up. “I was lost . . . and waiting, but I didn’t know what I was waiting for. It was you. Everyone I knew lived like I did. You had the secret thing I needed to see.”
Riley shook her head, suddenly anxious again. This was the issue that had made sleeping so difficult for so many days. If this was some kind of worship, no matter how good it felt to be adored, she didn’t want it. She had a temper, and a temper like hers could do terrible things with that kind of power. Riley did not want to be on a pedestal. She wanted to look El in the eye.
As she began to raise her objection, however, El silenced her with a soft peck that tickled and teased and tempted all at once.
“It’s not like that, Riley. You have no idea how worthless I have always felt, and you flipped everything around so I could see clearly.”
“El—”
“Listen to me. I’d never kiss you if I thought it was a bargain. There’s no debt here. It’s not like that at all.”
“Then what is it?”
“I know I have value, or my mother wouldn’t have worked so fucking hard to destroy me. I am strong. I want you, not because you can help me, but because we are the same. I want to be me, but the me that’s with you, not the me that’s without you.”
Riley could no longer keep time by anything but El’s shallow breath and the tiny kisses she gave. All the concerns of the previous week were warded off, threats held at bay because nothing could ever be so audacious as to ruin this perfection.
“I like who I am with you too.”
Wrapping her up again, El nuzzled her. “Must mean you love me.”
Love Under Glasse Page 27