Silken Scales

by Alex Hayes

  He crosses his arms. “Idris, it was a cheap pendant. Junk.”

  I puff up like a flap-necked chameleon. “Your judgment of it doesn’t matter. I had that crystal before I came here and you had no right to take it.”

  Dad lets out a dramatic sigh. “Idris, could you seriously see yourself growing up with that rainbow bric-á-brac around your neck? You would’ve been teased. Bullied. I saved you from that.”

  My anger rears. “Why? Because you figured kids would think I was gay? Is that it? Is that the reason why you don’t like me playing music and singing as well?”

  “Son, you’re overreacting.” Dad’s words ooze disdain. “Your birth parents abandoned you, and that crystal symbolized as much. You need to let it go and move on.”

  “You have no idea what that crystal meant. If you’d left it alone, I wouldn’t have turned into a lizard in the first place.”

  Mom steps between us. “Idris, sweetheart, calm down. It was just a rash and now you’ve recovered.”

  Wishful thinking. “No, Mom. You only saw the beginning of the transformation. I turned into a human-sized lizard. Why do you think I took off?” My eyes are glued to Dad’s. “Because I knew how disappointed you’d be.”

  Dad sighs, again. “Idris, you can’t help how you look. Your mother and I are glad to have you back home.”

  “Yeah, Dad? Now that I’m normal. You didn’t seem that relieved when you first saw me.”

  Dad’s face takes on a half-smile. Or is it a smirk? “That’s because I knew where you were.”

  “What?”

  “I spoke to Marek’s mother the day you left. She told me Marek’s been going to that old nightclub, the Thorny Rose, to practice his drums or some such. Didn’t take long to confirm you were there.” He glances at Mom, like there’s some tension between them on the subject, then back at me. “But we respected your request to be given time to think.”

  Were they spying on me? I drop against the wall, stunned. Do they know about Cadi too? And the mad old lady? And John?

  Mom captures my arm, her demeanor awkward. “Honey, you must be hungry. Come downstairs and I’ll make you some lunch.”

  I want to shout in frustration. “No, I’m not done. The reason I’m back to normal is because of that crystal.” I look at Dad. “Who am I?”

  Dad’s face tenses. “Idris, we know nothing about your past.”

  Mom scoops up my hand. Her eyes are soft, loving. “But from the moment we saw you, we knew you were the one for us.”

  I have no defense against that look.

  Dad pats my shoulder, his voice balmy. “You’re mother’s right. Let’s go get you some food.” He glances at my belly. “Sounds like you haven’t eaten in a week and we’ve got things to discuss.” He passes us and heads down the hall.

  Mom sets a plate of cold chicken and potatoes in front of me. While I inhale the food, my thoughts fly back to the Thorny Rose. I’ve got to apologize to Cadi for acting like a total ass.

  “Mom, is it okay if I borrow your car? There’s some stuff I need to take care of.”

  “You can later, sweetheart. I have an appointment this afternoon.”

  Damn. Knew I should’ve pushed harder to get a car of my own when I turned sixteen. Dad, again. No car until you’re eighteen, Idris.

  He settles at the table across from me. “A lot’s happened while you’ve been gone.”

  Jeez, I only left a few days ago. I take another mouthful of chicken, wondering what this is all about.

  “We had a visitor earlier.”

  “Yeah,” I say, “heard you guys talking.”

  Dad nods. “That was Frank, my agent. He was giving me the particulars for a meeting with a TV executive from Netflix in the city. Tonight.”

  “Congrats, Dad. You’ve been wanting this for a while.” Maybe three years. YouTube can only get you so far. The TV networks are a whole different ballgame. At any other time, I’d be enthusiastic, but right now all I can think about is downing this food and getting back to Cadi.

  “And the timing is perfect,” he says, “because you’re coming with me.”

  My eyes attempt to escape their sockets. Say what?

  Dad keeps talking. “We get your face in front of this TV exec and you become part of the package.”

  God, I wish he’d stop. “Dad, I can’t do that.” I scrabble for a reason he’ll buy. “Yesterday, I was green. What if it comes back? Right in the middle of your meeting.” Can you spell disaster?

  He raises a solid dark eyebrow. “You just told me that crystal changed you back, so you should be all set.”

  Argh. How does he turn everything I say against me? “But I’ve only just changed back. I don’t know if whatever it was is gone. It could come back.”

  “Idris, why are you fighting this?”

  I shake my head. “Because it’s not going to work. What you want isn’t what I want.”

  Dad folds his arms across the table. “This is an opportunity, Idris. Chances like this don’t come along every day.”

  Shoulders squared, I stare him down. Or try to. “But it’s not a chance I want. I don’t want to be you.”

  Dad waves my argument aside. “Meeting a TV executive doesn’t commit you to anything.”

  I almost groan out loud. I’ve been here before. All those public speaking competitions. They started as a good exercise, no commitments, the thin end of a thick wedge that would split me away from my own dreams.

  Dad’s nodding again, like his idea’s so good he’s motivating himself. “The exposure will be great for you. You know how to attract attention.”

  Attract attention? Attention is the last thing I’ve wanted this past week.

  He keeps going. “And how to be likable.”

  How to be likable? Jesus! Yeah, I do. And I’ve learned how to turn that like me signal off. No more subliminal messages will be radiating off this body.

  “You never know where a contact like this could get you.”

  Dad. Shut up. I rise from the table. “I don’t want to be a motivational speaker. Period. That’s always been your dream. Not mine.”

  His brow furrows. “Then what do you want, Idris?” He’s picked up that patronizing parental tone.

  I glance at Mom, hoping for a little support, but she looks shellshocked.

  “To make music. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  He tosses up his hands. “Then why are you throwing away the opportunity to meet someone who could shoot a wannabe musician into the stars?”

  “Ha! Wannabe? Yeah, I guess to you that’s all I am because you’ve never heard me play. Who knows. I. Might. Actually. Be. Good.”

  Dad sighs. “Being successful isn’t about how good you are. It’s about who you know.”

  My eyes find Mom’s. Please, say something.

  She’ll stick by me. I know she will. Our little secret. Our love of music.

  Mom tilts her head. “He has a point, sweetheart.”

  What? No, no, no-no-no.

  How can she side with him?

  Dad chuckles. “You see, your mother agrees.”

  God. How do I get out of this? I stare at Mom.

  She shrugs. “Honey, I believe your father has just suggested he’s okay with you pursuing music.”

  I pause and try to comprehend what she’s telling me. Did Dad really say he’s okay with me making music? I’m having difficulty believing it.

  “In fact,” Dad adds, “That Netflix executive happens to be married to a music composer, a big name in Hollywood.”

  Jeez, he wasn’t kidding about shooting stars.

  “And if we make a good impression on her, I’m sure she’ll introduce you.”

  I close my eyes because Dad has dumped a royal flush in front of my face.

  Then he goes in for the kill. “Of course, if you’re not prepared to make the effort, then I guess music isn’t that important to you.”

  Shiiiiitttt!!!

  He’s talking all or nothing. If I don�
��t say yes, I’m back to square one. No. Minus square one, and make that to the nth degree. Because that’s where he’ll take things if I don’t go. And if I so much as look at Mom’s grand, my ass will be grass. There’ll be no hanging out at the Thorny Rose. He’ll probably even pull me out of music in school.

  My last shred of hope plummets to earth and explodes into a ball of flames. I grip the table, and grind out, “Okay. Fine. I’ll go.”

  Dad grins as a heavy foreboding settles into me. Like that wedge is swinging right over my head, ready to fall and split me in two.

  34

  Cadi

  Diffidence holds me hostage under the oak tree until the front door of Idris’s house opens and this older guy in a smart blue suit steps out. A couple stop in the doorway behind him. I recognize the man from those infomercials, Brandon Williams. Idris’s dad. And the lady beside him reminds me of Halle Berry. She’s got to be Idris’s mom. They look like celebrity parents, intimidating in every way.

  The regal front door closes as the green Jaguar glides out of the driveway and disappears down the road.

  Somehow I gather enough guts to approach the front door with its large oval window of distorted glass. Through its edges I make out three wavy figures at the top of a staircase. They move close and one hugs another.

  In my chest, I sense a quiver of deep relief and joy. From Idris? I swallow, feeling like an interloper, like a spy. Idris is back with his parents. They must be relieved and he’s clearly glad to be home.

  A deep sadness trickles through me because I’ve lost him, my Dre.

  I seriously need to get out of here. Any excuse to run away from this place will do. I mean, I left the back door of the Thorny Rose unlocked, and if that man who attacked me returns, I want to be sure the place is closed up tight.

  I trudge down the snow-covered sidewalk, shaking my head. The story’s always the same. Why did I think finding Dre would be any different? Idris doesn’t remember a thing about me, and he’s got no reason to want to. He has a great home, wonderful parents. Why cling to a past he’s better off forgetting?

  The Thorny Rose is cold and empty without him, the basement especially so. I take off my coat, but keep on the white scarf and hat Shri gave me, while I organize my things on the leather sectional, clothes in a neat pile, toiletries in another, ready to be stuffed into my pack. I’ve a night left at the Mountain Lodge before Sam and Jessie return from Ohio. And then I’ll go home. To my new home, anyway.

  My stomach grumbles. I look in the fridge but nothing appeals. I wipe a tear from my eye and go make the bed, determined to leave the place cleaner than I found it. Then I remember the shattered front windows. I sigh and head upstairs to see what can be done.

  Someone did a reasonable job sweeping the glass into a pile, and only a little snow has blown in through the opening. I search around for a trashcan and find one behind the bar, along with the strange weapon that weird guy, John, used to shoot me.

  Idris told Marek he shot the guy. He must have hidden the gun back here. Before I can pick it up for a closer look, a rattle comes from the back door.

  I don’t move.

  The deadbolt turns. Has to be Marek, because I’d sense Idris if he were here.

  The door opens. A red-headed woman with coiffed curls stands in the entry, wearing high heels and a dress coat that falls below her knees.

  Marek’s mom? But she looks nothing like him.

  My crystal zings me in the chest. Something’s not right. I dodge behind the bar before she sees me.

  Heeled shoes clack on the floorboards. “She’s in here.” The woman’s voice is flat and low.

  “I’ll check downstairs,” comes a second voice. Male this time.

  I recognize it. John.

  The woman’s steps continue down the passageway and across the nightclub floor. “There’s no point in hiding, Cadalonea.”

  Who?

  A sweet voice slips in from the past. Come, Cadalonea. Your father’s waiting.

  Cadalonea. That’s me.

  Keys jangle as they’re dropped onto the bar.

  “Come now, child. I sense your crystal, just as I’m sure you sense mine.” A barstool scrapes across the floor.

  She’s right. I do sense a presence, or my crystal does. A resonance that’s very different from Idris’s crystal. Not as insistent or as strong, either. Still, there’s something familiar about it.

  I swallow and stand up.

  “There, you see.” The woman’s smile is over-bright. Totally fake. The violet glow in her eyes unnerves me with its menacing, predatory light.

  Yet, her crystal…

  She settles her forearms on the bar and crosses them. “You know who I am, don’t you, dear?”

  Somehow familiar, but I’m certain I’ve never seen her face before.

  “Maybe this will remind you…” Her body changes, shimmering first, like liquid mercury, then metamorphosing from human into a lizard-being like Idris. “Recognize me now?”

  My heart shudders. She’s my mother. No, that can’t be. She’s not human.

  The woman smiles again, and her expression seems even less genuine than in her human form. “It’s time to go home, Cadalonea.”

  My jaw tightens. Stop calling me that!

  The name sounds all wrong coming from her mouth. She may look like my mother, but she doesn’t sound like her.

  She taps a set of pointy fingernails on the polished wood. “Tsk, tsk. Corporal Drosk?”

  John appears from the back passageway, carrying a weapon like the one hidden under the bar.

  The lizard-woman glances in his direction. “Neutralize her.”

  I dodge down behind the bar at the sound of John’s weapon charging and reach for the hidden one.

  The device feels unfamiliar. Foreign. How do I operate it? My arm slips into a curve at the side of the weapon, and my fingers find a trigger. I swing the weapon up, ready to blast the guy, but he’s quicker.

  A pulse from his weapon slams me into the back counter of the bar and the lights go out.

  35

  Idris

  I head upstairs to change my shirt and find Mom rummaging through my closet. Reaching past her for a classic black Van Morrison shirt, I say, “I’m heading over to the Thorny Rose for a bit.”

  “Oh, honey, there isn’t time. We need to find you clothes for dinner tonight. It’s jackets-required. Then I need to leave for my appointment.”

  “Sure there is. I’ll go on my bike. It won’t take long.” Although the ride is going to suck.

  Mom follows me across the room. “First, try these on. We need to make sure they still fit before I iron them.”

  For Christ’s sake, Mom, but I do as she asks.

  Dad wants to head out at four-thirty to allow for traffic and Mom’s hyper-focused on ironing. After she leaves with an armful of clothes, I throw on my clean shirt, a sweatshirt and rain slicker, and head to the garage for my bike.

  The tires are spongy.

  Seriously? Has it been that long since I last rode anywhere?

  I search for the foot pump.

  Where the hell is it? The thing is bright orange. How can it have disappeared?

  Finally, I spot the pump peeking out from behind a bunch of broken-down boxes I should have put in the recycling a couple of months ago.

  Tires inflated, I skid across the snow-covered driveway toward the road.

  “Idris!” Dad’s voice barks across the driveway like a bullhorn.

  How’d he spot me?

  He stands at the front door. “At least one side of this driveway needs to be shoveled before we leave.”

  This is totally not happening.

  I wave. “Okay, Dad.”

  He stands, arms akimbo. “Where are you going, anyway? We need to leave in two hours.”

  “Yeah, sure. Just wanted to get out and stretch my legs.”

  “Well, do it while you’re shoveling.”

  I give him a thumbs up and head for the ba
ck porch, wait thirty seconds, then slipping and sliding, ride my bike across the snow-covered driveway and out into the street.

  Yeah. Dad’s going to be pissed. But for once, I don’t care. He’s won on every other count. I’m not letting him get between me and Cadi.

  The salty slush left by the snowplow splatters up the back of my slicker, and I hope my ass will be spared.

  There’s only one pawnshop in town that I know of. It’s in the strip mall on the edge of the old industrial district, half a mile from the Thorny Rose. That has to be the one.

  I prop my bike against a wall, glad the place is open. The bell jingles as I push open the glass-fronted door and step inside. “Hello?”

  The store smells musty. I walk across a shiny concrete floor polished by countless feet, coming and going, over the past century or so. The place looks that old. “Hello?”

  A rustle comes from a room just beyond a long glass display counter. A guy appears at the open door. His gray face is festooned with a week’s worth of beard and his clothes are disheveled, like maybe he lives in that back room and never sees the light of day. “Can I help you?”

  Judging by his sour expression, he doesn’t want to, so I put on my like me smile. Not the vibration thing, just the smile. Hopefully, it’ll be enough.

  “Hi, yeah. A friend of mine came by a few days ago and purchased a crystal from you.”

  The guy’s face frowns up like he’s struggling to remember. Guess he gets so many customers in this place it’s hard to keep track.

  “She traded her phone for it, and I’d like to pay the hundred dollars to get the phone back.”

  The guy scrubs at his chin and shakes his head. “Expired. Sorry. That price was only for the first three days. I’ve got to keep my inventory moving.”

  “You sold it already?” I can’t keep the indignation from my voice.

  He settles his fat hand on the glass countertop. “Didn’t say that, young fella. We hold all trades for at least seven days. But the price has gone up.”