by Danae Ayusso
Yes and no.
“Pink isn’t bad, but I like purples more than pinks. Are you gay?” I blurted out, and his eyes widened. “If you’re the one that decorated the house I could totally see why you aren’t married, aside from your questionable taste in women. But I love my room, I really do. And the bathroom… Oh my God, I love the colors and decorations and the large vinyl black damask design that goes up the wall behind the bathtub to the ceiling! I mean it’s perfect, and I would have never imagined…” Now I’m rambling and starting to tear up again, but this time, they’re happy tears. “It’s beautiful, and I never thanked you for it. Honestly, it’s so much more than I could have ever imagined, and I love all of the colors and everything. It’s perfect. Thank you so much.”
Price smiled and wiped the moisture from his eyes with his thumb. “You’re welcome,” he said. “And I’m not gay. I took many design and decorating courses in order to learn how to properly play off the aesthetic of the architecture without overpowering it when renovating. Plus, it helps to keep a green builder in the loop about new innovations and products, and to help visualize how to repurpose recycled materials that typically would have gone into a landfill or slush pile to be burned.”
I think that’s the most I’ve heard him say at one time that wasn’t of the pleading to give him a chance variety.
“You really love that type of stuff, huh?” I said.
“Yes, I enjoy it. Something about creating without affecting the world around us is spiritually fulfilling. But enough about me,” he said, standing up. “Let’s check in with Ellie and get you shopping while I make some phone calls that I’ve been putting off.”
A strange flutter stabbed at my stomach, but I shook it off.
Price has his own shit to deal with, and it isn’t my place to ask him to be nice and not strangle anyone. Anger is such a simplistically complicated emotion that you can read and sense from space.
I smiled. “Thanks again for everything,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. The stuff this man does to me.
“Anything for you, Mikhail. There truly isn’t that I wouldn’t do...” his words trailed off and I nodded my understanding.
Chapter Nine
Rave for Three
“Okay. What’s the difference between that one and the last ten you showed me?” I whined.
No shit. They all look the same to me.
Bleu rolled his eyes and took his laptop from me then dismissively waved me away.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded and his fingers started tapping away on the keyboard faster than I’ve ever seen fingers move before. The clicking of each key in rapid succession sounded like a continuous annoying hum.
I sat on the edge of his bed looking around the room that he shares with his brother. It’s somewhat weird to me considering there are many open rooms to choose from. Strength in numbers I guess. And it isn’t as if their room is small either. It’s easily twice the size of mine! I’m guessing that Price turned two rooms into one for them, and if that’s the case, it was super nice of him.
The walls are black, not matte but not glossy either, with thick white crown molding and picture frame, chair rail height molding, like my room, and to my surprise, their ceiling is black, only the white crown molding breaking up the monotony. Most of the furniture is black, but their bedding, lounge and club chairs are white, as are the twin shag area rugs positioned in front of each beds. It’s like a monochromatic head-trip. If it weren’t for all of the framed, brightly colored posters of various bands, the room would have been an EMO’s dream.
It isn’t my taste, not at all, and it makes me slightly depressed to hang out in here, but it fits them and their quiet personalities.
I slipped off the edge of the bed and went over to the far wall.
“May I?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.
Bleu and Kieran were both watching me, their heads tilted the same direction like they were confused as to what I was doing and why.
Eventually, they both nodded so I pressed the toggle button on the iPod resting on the docking station. After a couple of seconds of silence, a metallic slicing sound echoed around the room followed by some quick electronic drum taps.
“Holy shit!” I laughed, turning to face the confused twins. “I love The Crystal Method. Not the drug, but the duo. The only thing missing is the glow sticks!”
Without being able to stop myself, I bobbed my head with the music.
“I guess I didn’t know... I guess I didn’t know,” I sang along with the music under my breath, keeping time with my head, studying each poster.
Now that I’m up close, I know who most of these bands are: Prodigy, The Crystal Method, Propellerheads, Chemical Brothers, Alice DeeJay, BT, Orbital, and newer deejays I haven’t heard of before.
When I completed my circuit, they were still watching me.
“You two are techno junkies, like rave kids, huh?”
They both nodded.
“Boys, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
For the first time since meeting them, brilliant white smiles consumed their faces, and they looked like twins. After two more hours of concert level music, and countless glow sticks that ended up lost around the room in the darkened corners, we called it a night. Technically I did. They were both still spinning and jumping around their room like two chickens with their heads cut off, as Ellie would say. We never actually got to the point of looking at and ordering clothes.
It isn’t as if school starts tomorrow. Price said it starts the last week of August so I have time.
Halfway down the hall, I knocked on Shep’s bedroom door.
When he opened the door, he glared at me. “You just had to get them going with a gosh dang rave, didn’t you?” he complained.
“Sorry.” I tried to sound apologetic, but I was trying to keep from laughing. “Do you have a pair of shorts and a wife beater I can borrow until I get some clothes? Ellie said you have some workout clothes you could lend me, and if you say no she’ll whoop your ass.”
He chuckled. “Grams is so motherly it’s terrifying.”
“I like her and her vulgar mouth,” I said.
“You would. Come in,” he said, pushing the door open, waving me inside.
Where my room looks like it fell out of a retreat on some island in the South Pacific, and the twins’ room looks like a cave until you turn on the light show from the two dozen party lights and lasers they have hidden all over the room, turning it into Burning Man in Anaconda, Shep’s room is exactly what a teenage boy’s room should look like.
Red semi-gloss walls, white crown molding, nearly every inch of the walls are covered in posters and pictures from magazines of half-naked, and a couple that I think were completely naked hidden in there, chicks, and a few cars, but mainly bitches. Black and metal furniture was accented with contemporary black, gray, red and white pillows and bedding, and an over-sized, flat panel television was mounted across the room with a black loveseat and two club chairs surrounding it, and there was a stack of video games tossed on the red and gray contemporary area rug with four wireless controllers.
“Did you order any clothes?” he called out from the closet.
I chuckled. “No, we didn’t get to that yet. Bleu was just figuring out the laptop and electronics that I can’t begin to explain what their purpose is for. After that, we got distracted when we had our little rave. It was fun though.”
“I don’t get it,” he said, exiting the closet with a small gym bag in his hand. “No one is ever allowed in their room, and I mean ever. I couldn’t even tell you what it looks like, and yet you just waltz in there and party with them.”
Huh, I didn’t know that.
“Aw, Shep-ee-poo, are you feeling left out?” I teased.
“Maybe,” he shrugged, tossing me the bag. “There are some gym shorts, boxers, wife beaters, undershirts, sweats, and some socks in there. Let me know if you need anything else. If
they are big, roll the waistband down.”
I nodded.
That I know all too well.
“Thanks.” I started for the door and stopped with my hand on the handle. “They know you call them Mc Creepy and Creepier, and they don’t like it. That’s why you aren’t invited to hang out with them.”
“They said that?” Shep asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “They didn’t have to. If you’d take the time to listen to what they aren’t saying, you’d hear everything that they don’t say and then some. They’re both really sweet guys, and funny, full of energy and excitement, but they’re flooded with trepidation, guilt and fear. Some memories are hard to shake, but they’re doing the best they can. Thanks for the clothes, Shep.” I closed the door behind me before he could argue with me and hurried down to my room to get ready for bed.
I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The dark circles under my eyes are proof of how long this adventure has been thus far.
“It’s been an exciting couple of days, even though three of them were spent on the couch watching movies and hanging out. Breakfast in bed, pimp slapping a dog that won’t leave me alone now, a three person rave, and a couple of weird bonding moments with Price. Oh yeah, and that scary little white bitch from the woods…” I mumbled.
My reflection nodded and my eyes widened.
Yeah, this day will never end, and I doubt it’ll end any time soon, Justice complained, rolling her eyes.
“Apparently I’m more exhausted than I realized because I see you,” I mumbled, touching the mirror.
She gave me a look. Like what you see?
“No, you have dark circles as well,” I pointed out and she shook her head, ignoring me. “How is it possible that I don’t see me but I see you and you’re moving independently of me?” I asked.
Again, she gave me a look. How in the hell should I know? You’ve repeatedly told me that you’re smarter, so you figure it out.
Bitch.
Yes, I am.
“Whatever. I’m sure it’s just exhaustion. We’re beyond exhausted, but every time I think of closing my eyes, I see that little bitch’s ghastly face, can smell the decay and her rank breath, and can taste it on my tongue even. I can feel those black hallowed out pits where her eyes once were burning into me.”
It isn’t the worst thing we’ve seen, Justice reminded me, fixing her short hair in the mirror.
“True, but it doesn’t make it easier… I was hoping they wouldn’t follow me to Anaconda-”
But they did. It is something to look into, I think, she said, sounding contemplative. I’m not liking this new cut. It needs some color. Purple tips?
“I have to agree with you on all accounts. Purple tips would look good. I wonder if they have a ‘Crazy shit that should only be in nightmares but is chasing a white flat ass white girl across the country’ section at the public library?”
Funny, she said with a chuckle.
“Just something to look into,” I said, turning off the bathroom light.
With extreme discretion, if you could manage that, she said, and I caught her reflection in the windows as I headed to bed.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter Ten
Therapy in the Woods
“Play with me.”
My eyes snapped open and darted from side to side before I sat up.
I pushed my hands through my damp hair, straining to hear the little bitch from the woods, but she wasn’t there.
“Am I imagining things?”
Again, I waited, listening, but nothing responded.
“Damn it,” I grumbled and looked over at the clock.
I’m going to kill that little bitch when I see her again. Getting my ass up at four in the morning. She’s dead.
“Sure, whatever you say, Justice,” I mumbled, wide awake now.
Not in the mood to stay in bed, I got up and pulled one of the long sleeve shirts Shep provided over my wife beater and rolled the waist down on the sweats so they fit slightly better. Cujo was passed out on the floor in front of the door, and I don’t want company of the ninja cow variety, so I opened the window and peered out.
Two-story drop, nothing too terribly bad, and I’m rather proficient at parkour so it shouldn’t be a problem. After leaving a quick note on the bed so no one got the wrong idea, I slipped out the window and closed it behind me so Cujo didn’t try to join me. Carefully I inched across the roof, making sure I didn’t step on the gutter. At the end of the roof, I slipped off the edge, turning as I dropped, and grabbed ahold of the wood column for the deck roof then dropped to the soft grass below.
There really wasn’t anywhere I wanted to go or anything I wanted to see. I just needed to take a walk. Anytime I’m woken up like that, from fright, it could be dangerous…
Dangerous to those in Anaconda.
Justice rears her confrontational and rude head anytime I get the sense of disconnect. Other than kneeing Cinder Dick in the balls and breaking his nose, my cynical, assertive side has been rather good. And yes, speaking as if that annoyingly snarky and bitchy voice in my head is an actual person is a sign of psychosis, and my reflection in the mirror seemingly reflecting her instead of me is completely insane, but I’m not about to reveal that dysfunction to Price or the others.
They already think I’m crazy, I can tell.
Truth is, after experiencing what crazy is firsthand at the hands of my mom, I know what crazy looks like and I’m crazy… Just a different form of crazy. Some of the stuff I’ve done, seen, been subjected to, would support the insanity thing. Blue Boy used to tell me that I wasn’t nearly as crazy as I thought I was, but when the claws came out and Justice reared her head, it was time to call a priest for an exorcism. Mama Jones was more helpful than Blue Boy, and reassured me that everyone has a cut-a-bitch side and that they come out when needed most. De’Von rather enjoys my crazy side, and would do what he could to bring it out so he could enjoy the show.
He’s a brat.
After wandering down the stream to the very back of the north pasture, I sat on the bank and put my feet in the freezing water; I should have worn shoes, but I liked running around barefooted and the grass was unbelievably soft and free of sharp rocks. The sun had started to come up between the mountains, turning the sky from muted gray to blue and gold after the first hour. Shep and Nick were tending to the horses in the south pasture and offered a small wave from the distance when I saw them after two hours; six is way too early to be up tending to moody horses, but if that’s their job so be it.
I was grateful they were giving me space.
Price had joined me, looking slightly panicked, but didn’t ask. Instead, he said he was heading into town to see to some things and that he’d be back later and to stay on this side of the fencing.
Hours of walking around, alone, hadn’t really helped, but at the same time, I’m not sure what it was supposed to be helping with.
I’m totally out of it, and I hate it when that happens.
“So not a tourist.”
My head snapped to the side to regard the sound then I groaned.
The annoying delusion with the crappy boyband hair from the train station was leaning against a tree on the other side of the protective fencing, looking at me.
“What do you want?” I complained.
He shrugged. “I was curious so I wandered by. After such heated words last night, I simply had to see what I was being accused of this time in the flesh… Though,” he said, sounding contemplative then smirked, “it isn’t the in the flesh I am accustomed to.”
I gave him a look. “Is that a lame ass pick up line? Holy shit, I have reached a completely higher level of insane where they are starting to hit on me. That’s just fucking lovely,” I complained, throwing my hands in the air in frustration.
He chuckled. “I would never,” he assured me before licking his full lips.
I glared at him. “Really?” I complained, causing him
to chuckle.
There was something different about him this time; he was dressed differently. It wasn’t a bad thing, but the irony that my delusions have a fashion sense and closet in my head and yet I haven’t one when it pertains to myself is rather amusing.
“I don’t like the white,” I blurted out.
He cocked a black eyebrow. “Are you racist? A bit hypocritical considering you are pale yourself.”
“Shut up,” I groaned, causing him to laugh. “The white sweater, I don’t like it. It washes you out. I like the black one better; it matches your hair and eyes and doesn’t make you look as pale.”
He gave me a look before his eyes moved over me, appraisingly. “I will take it under advisement, though I have to point out that getting fashion advice from you of all people is rather sad… Yes, sad is a good word.”
I flipped him off.
Of course he laughed.
Why was I sitting here looking at this rather sexy man, this figment of my imagination? Shouldn’t I be heading back to the house and telling Price that he needs to schedule that sit down with the therapist he has on speed dial? Rock the boat by telling the only people that I now have in the world, and that are, essentially, holding the key to my freedom that I’m completely insane and see things, possibly dead people even, and have full-blown conversations with them?
His smile fell. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he complained, making a face; the tip of his rugged nose wrinkled and his full lips twisted into an annoyed pout.
It made me giggle, which isn’t like me in the least.
“I’m glad my annoyance is amusing to you, t'es bête,” he grumbled.
Of course, his complaint made me smile.
I got to my feet then hopped over the creek and went over to the corral fencing.
Instantly he was retreating from me, backing himself up against a tree that was farther away.