by L. A. Zoe
And that train of thought reminded him of a strange little detail he noticed in SeeJai’s mother’s apartment the night before.
While Crazy Georgie scrubbed off two decades of filth, SeeJai’s mother did some unpacking. On one shelf she placed an aluminum double picture frame, with two side by side photos of SeeJai as a very little girl.
The strange part was, the pictures were identical, except she dressed SeeJai in two dresses that were exactly the same, only different colors. In the left photo, she smiled with the uninhibited glee of a child enjoying the extra attention, black eyes glinting with gold. And wore a red dress.
In the right-hand photo, SeeJai smiled just as brightly, but wore a blue version of the same dress.
Except for the dress colors, the pictures looked identical. As though somebody used Adobe Photoshop to copy the left picture, then switch the red color to blue.
Did Photoshop exist back then? SeeJai’s mother didn’t seem like the kind of person who would have had a personal computer way back then. Or who could use Photoshop even now, let alone back when only photography and art nerds knew about it.
No, she must have dressed SeeJai in one color of dress, had the photo taken—certainly by a professional—then changed SeeJai into the other color of dress, and had a picture taken of her in that dress.
Odd.
All the women he ever knew would welcome the chance to dress their baby girl in entirely different dresses. Not the same dress in a different color. Just as they couldn’t buy enough fancy dresses for themselves, they couldn’t for their daughters either.
Maybe SeeJai’s mother was even weirder than he realized.
A tiny thing, but he needed to occupy his attention while he waited for SeeJai.
Eventually, Helena and friends left. Rhinegold again fought the impulse to hail them.
What could he say?
Only Helena maintained contact with him. And he didn’t want her as his girlfriend, so he had no place with them that night. If she and Joe Parotti hit it off together, good for them.
By the time SeeJai came out just after midnight, holding a large brown bag, Rhinegold wondered if he could ever thaw out with anything less than a blowtorch.
Was SeeJai really worth this effort? Especially when she just seemed to tolerate him? Use him for food and shelter?
They made their back to his condemned house, over sidewalks cleared of ice in business districts, covered with gritty black soot or rock salt in some places, and still slippery in other places.
Both of them welcomed the flames jumping in Rhinegold’s fireplace.
SeeJai dug into the large brown bag. “Veggie burgers, black bean soup, rice milk, carrot cake.”
Rhinegold said, “Arkady promised me a rib eye steak.”
SeeJai stopped suddenly, shocked. “Steak? But—” Then she laughed. “Oh, you.”
“He didn’t strike me as the live lightly on the Earth, free the oppressed animals type. I bet he devours cattle by the herd. Horses too.”
SeeJai shrugged. “He’s an entrepreneur. He gives the customers what they want.”
“And serves beer and wine too, I noticed. When did alcohol become a natural health drink?”
“Only local microbrews and Northern California wines. All politically correct. How did you meet Arkady?”
“He came out and told me to move it across the street.”
“So what’d you do?”
“I moved my ass across the street. I’m not going to argue with a Spetznaz guy.”
“What’s that?”
“The old Soviet Union special forces. Like our Delta Force, except their only rules of engagement were to win or not come back at all. Bad ass dudes.”
The veggie burgers tasted bland, but they filled the cavern in his stomach. So did the black bean soup and carrot cake. He washed it all down with the rice milk.
He would prefer the rib eye steak, but how long since he last ate in a fancy restaurant?
As soon as he finished eating, Rhinegold began yawning. SeeJai picked up the dirty paper dishes while he got out the sleeping bag and blankets. He insisted she spend the night in the sleeping bag.
They formed the two sides and point of a triangle in front of the fireplace, sharing the warmth equally. A large pile of wood slats between them in front of the fire, to feed to the fire during the night.
Without thinking, Rhinegold kept his feet close to the side of the fireplace. He lay down, closed his eyes automatically. When he opened them, SeeJai’s head lay near to his.
She smiled at his stare. “This is cozy, isn’t it?”
“SeeJai—”
“Don’t worry. I’m too tired to feel like having sex, even if you wanted it.”
“I want it,” he said, sighing.
“Just not with me.”
“Not when you … “
“What?”
“Think you’re repaying me for a favor.”
“But I owe you.”
He waved a tired hand. “You’re absolved. You owe me nothing.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Not what, who. Why me? Why do you help me for no charge? You protect other people, but they pay you. Would you work for free for Greco?”
“Hell, no! But that’s different. It’s business. He can afford to pay me in cash. And for your information, I do freebie work for little kids going to and from school. Would you believe bigger kids steal their lunch money?”
“Do you have something against sex? I can’t believe you’re a virgin.”
“I got lucky a few times in high school,” Rhinegold said. “Then … “ Then Keara. “And even since I’ve been on the streets. I just don’t make it a transaction. I don’t accept payment in kind for services rendered.”
Not with a fairy tale princess.
“Where’d you go to high school?” SeeJai asked.
“Edison High,” he said. “Do we have to go into all this?”
She sat up. “Edison!”
“Yeah.”
“But that’s way out west, past the bussing order.”
“Yep. I’m a rich kid,” Rhinegold said. “If you want to know, let’s get that out of the way. My father’s a rich corporate lawyer. Served on the County Council ten years. A big fucking deal.”
The pile of burning slats piled in the fireplace fell with a soft whoosh.
SeeJai said nothing.
“Go ahead and ask,” Rhinegold said. “Aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to know why the son of a rich lawyer is living in a condemned house, especially since you’ve never seen me shoot heroin or smoke crack or snort powder or roll on E? Or drink more than a few beers at one time? And never will.”
“Why are you living in a condemned house if you’re the son of a rich lawyer?”
“I didn’t want to go to college. That’s not the full reason, but it’s the most you’ll get out of me without electrocuting my genitals.”
“I understand,” SeeJai said. “This is so much fun, it sure beats going to boring classes and sleeping in a warm bed and drinking beer and whatever else college kids do.”
“Glad you see it the way I do.”
“You are nuts, aren’t you? Most every street person who’s not on drugs, drinks too much. If they’re not hustling, they’re not wrapped tight.”
“What category do you fall into?”
“I don’t. I’m saving my tips, and in a few weeks I’ll have enough to pay the security deposit on a little room.”
Just take her. Now.
Go for it. Do her.
She wouldn’t resist, tired or not.
If she didn’t want him, she’d still let him enjoy her. She owed him.
Thinking of her thin shapely figure just a few feet away, wearing those tight black slacks and brown pullover top …
Kiss her. Extend his head over to hers. Take that delectable mouth, lips still covered with bright lipstick. Tongue still coated with rice milk. Exchange respiration.
Didn’t he deserve a good roll in the sack?
He asked, “What high school did you go to?”
Chapter Eleven
A Day in the Park
On average I felt comfortable.
The bright fire roasted my front half. The cold dark froze my back half.
Yet, better to lie there close to Rhinegold on that hard wood floor than anywhere else, even on my mother’s or Areetha’s couches.
If only Rhinegold would lie right behind me, warming my backside.
Letting my backside warm him.
If only he would spread my legs and penetrate me deeply.
But I didn’t dare try.
I couldn’t handle another rejection.
“Who cares?” I said. “I hated high school. I hope it blows up.”
“Empty?”
“There were a few people there I wouldn’t mind sending to Kingdom Come in an explosion.”
“So you’re one of those,” Rhinegold said. “I should have guessed it.” His voice rumbled at low volume like the murmur of a sports car in low gear. We had the entire house to ourselves, but we spoke together quietly. Around the campfire, telling stories and roasting marshmallows on sticks, though we didn’t have any marshmallows.
“One of what kind?”
“The kind of people who hate high school. You either love it or hate it. You get along with other kids, participate in activities, make friends for life, enjoy the time when you can be young, getting drunk with buddies, your only responsibility to get good grades or at least pass your courses—or you hate all the social status game-playing.”
“You must have enjoyed it,” I said. “I’m sure you were one of the popular kids.”
“Lettered in football and track,” Rhinegold said. “I was on the Student Council. I made straight As. I knew everybody, liked almost everybody. Everybody knew me, and almost everybody liked me.”
“I would have hated you.”
“Lots of kids thought I was weird because I read so much, especially fantasy, but I didn’t let it slow me down much. I did role-playing games online, but not obsessively.”
Outside, two men, voices shouting loudly. I shut up and listened, muscles stiff. Holding my breath. Rhinegold also stopped talking to listen.
They argued, but between all the many curse words and the drunken rambling and whining, I couldn’t figure out what they disagreed on.
The bars closed over an hour ago, and street traffic stopped. When Rhinegold and I entered the building, all the other houses were dark except for lights blazing over doors. We seemed to be the only people in the neighborhood not yet asleep.
Rhinegold rose to his hands and knees, reached out to grab something. Knife? Gun? I couldn’t see, but he held it close to his side as he crouched, waiting.
“If they try to get in, you scurry around to the side, hide in the shadows,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “No matter what happens, don’t move or speak. Don’t let them know you’re here.”
“What—?”
“Shh.”
The drunks continued to shout at each other, one repeating, “But my ass, Harry. My ass!”
They sounded as though they stood just on the other side of the front door.
I began to put out the fire.
“Don’t,” Rhinegold said. “Either they’ve already seen the light or they haven’t. If they break in the door, the light will blind them for me.”
A few more minutes of shouting back and forth, then their voices receded as they returned to the sidewalk, and continued on.
I lay back down, breathing heavily, no longer tired with adrenaline surging through my veins. I closed my eyes. “We’re not really safe here, are we?”
“No place is perfectly safe. When you get your little room, somebody could still break in, when you’re away or in there.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Don’t mention it. Are you any better off now you’re out of high school?”
“I got my GED. I’ve got a job. And I still want my own little place.”
And I don’t go near anybody who remembers Helena and I. Anybody who might have watched the video she uploaded to Facebook. All that’s out of my life. Gone and dead.
I wanted Rhinegold even more. His body as well as his protection.
Start over—tonight. Prove the feeling gripping my loins: I want a man inside me. A job, a man, a new life.
I fingered my locket. So long as it fell inside my sweatshirt, he couldn’t see it.
What if Rhinegold wanted me as well? Men usually made the first move, but maybe he was embarrassed after what he did that first night.
Maybe, now he defended his virtue, he just waited for me to throw myself at him.
Yet Rhinegold lay breathing heavily but slowly, unmoving, like a quiescent dragon.
Feeling Northern Lights flash and dance through the upper atmosphere of my soul, I closed my eyes, and slept.
Still wondering why a rich lawyer’s kid occupied a condemned house.
What did Rhinegold do so bad to get kicked out of his family mansion?
Hours later I woke up from a hazy, happy dream of lying tangled in yarn, hugging a kitten big as myself.
Instead, I lay on my side, pressing myself against Rhinegold’s back. Luckily, he still snored lightly, and I backed away.
The fire died, and in the predawn dark and cold we must have instinctively moved toward each other like heat-seeking missiles. Without him, the cold air bit my face and chilled my blood.
Despite the leftover dream fog clouding my brain, I suddenly realized I never before in my life slept so close to another person.
It upset me to discover I liked it. Not sexually—well, not entirely sexually. Just the shared warmth of another human being who accepted my presence while they were most vulnerable, most open.
I suddenly realized why couples slept together, why during arguments it upset the man to be ordered out of bed to the living room couch. Or why a woman sleeping in a guest bedroom displayed grave anger and displeasure. Why elderly couples continued to share beds.
I always assumed it simply had to do with sex. Couples wanted to screw. Bed was the most convenient and comfortable place to screw. Night was the most convenient time to screw. So they screwed at night, and then just remained in the same bed to get their sleep.
Of course they could screw in one bed, then separate to sleep separately. I thought they didn’t just because it was more convenient to fall asleep right where you were when you finished the sex.
But no, when people spent the night close together, even still wearing thick winter coats and separated by layers of blankets and a sleeping bag, something besides sheer sexual tension seemed to pass between them. Some shared energy, like an aura.
How much more powerful would it be if, given a furnace roaring in the basement below, we both could lie naked, raw skin against raw skin?
Idiot!
Shivering, I wrapped the blankets close around me, and stared at my sleeping protector, wondering what weird dramas played in his head.
An old-fashioned knight who for reasons I couldn’t understand picked me to protect, despite my unworthiness.
Not that I was a bad person, just … ordinary. No, worse than ordinary. Behind.
After my life blew up my senior year of high school, I just hid myself, living with my mother. What with her drinking and her depression spells where she didn’t want to talk much, we got along all too well. I made her eat three meals, and bathe every other day, and let her watch TV and sleep, and she asked nothing else of me. And neither did anybody else, especially myself.
Her SSI checks paid all the basic bills, and that’s all either of us needed.
Until she went spent three months in the hospital, and the check stopped, and we got evicted, and I wound up there, in a condemned house beside a rich homeless dude, crazy as Crazy Georgie, just not so obviously.
Rhinegold stirred up hormones in me dormant since the onset of puber
ty. He increased the blood circulation to parts of my body I forgot existed. He made juices flow in the hot sand desert between my legs.
Yet, some old-fashioned code of honor kept him from satisfying my born-again lust. Or he just felt none of his own.
I couldn’t tell for sure. He liked me, that I knew. With me, certain muscles of his face relaxed, especially around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth, so he smiled a lot, in a way guys didn’t smile around other guys. But that didn’t prove much. Even gay guys acted that way around women they liked as friends.
And the way Rhinegold made me feel, reminded me of other boys I wanted, a few I had crushes on in middle and high school.
I did have crushes on boys. I did, I did.
I just couldn’t get them to like me in return.
So if my crushes gradually died from lack of encouragement, who could blame me?
And if I didn’t dare risk liking guys, who could blame them for not liking me in return?
I thought of the hundred and two dollars in tip money in a small red leather pocket purse deep in the inside pocket of my winter coat, and pride surged through me, a novel emotion.
I earned it. I earned it by working hard, taking care of customers. Treating them nicely and delivering their food as soon as possible given the crowd, and the therefore overworked kitchen staff.
Plus, I earned another $3.36 per hour I’d get in a paycheck in a few weeks, though Areetha already warned me I’d lose a quarter or so in tax deductions.
A piece of my heart burned to rent my own apartment, even if just a tiny room in some ghetto. To sleep alone, away from anyone and everyone, just to show I could. I didn’t need anyone.
Just as my mother didn’t need me. Independent. On my own. Free.
I needed more rest before reporting to work that evening, if The Sunshine Garden did half the business on Saturday nights as on Fridays.
Carefully, I lay back down against Rhinegold, without waking him. Back to back. Ass to ass.
It wasn’t a fair trade of body heat, of course. Because he was at least twice my size and weight, he warmed me a lot more than I could warm him.
If he objected to my little butt so close to his big—but solidly muscular—butt, so what? Would he throw me out?