It felt a bit weird, though. Eighteen meant I was legally an adult, and I didn’t feel like an adult, but I guessed that could have been because I didn’t really feel like myself. I didn’t think my parents knew what to make of me either, which wasn’t surprising. I wasn’t sure how to reassure them I was okay when I wasn’t, but I needed them to back off, too. The constant hovering around me was starting to drive me insane. They tried to hide it, everyone tried to hide it, but it was hard to not notice.
After the shower, I put on a white sweatshirt and pair of bright red cigarette pants. It was Mom who’d told me they used to be called that, and I’d loved that name, so I kept using it. That or ‘Audrey Hepburn pants,’ because I loved Audrey Hepburn. Or, I used to, back when I still loved stuff at random.
It took me a while to find my yellow shoes, but once I’d found them, I took a look in the mirror.
Clothes from before.
I’d noticed that when I wore those, Mom backed off a little. And I felt pretty okay with not hiding in one of my Dad’s shirts while I was at the clubhouse. Lately that had been how I was dealing with everything, just finding ways to get people to back off and give me some space. I needed space.
As suspected, getting people to back off and give me space was not easy when it was my own birthday. It took them all about thirty minutes to become comfortable and forget about me. Mom had given me a piece of cake, and I couldn’t really find a good excuse to not eat my own birthday cake. But I found a relatively calm spot behind the bar, and when I was sure no one, and especially not Mom, was looking, I threw the piece of cake in the garbage. I kicked the trashcan a few times to make the bottles and other crap fall over it.
“Not good?” someone said behind me, and I jumped and spun around so fast I almost fell over.
It was Roach, one of the loans from New York, and he was holding up his hands to calm me down. Like I was a scared puppy, or something.
“I’m full,” I said and looked down into my handbag so I didn’t have to look at him, and also to make it look like I was busy. I smiled when I saw the joint I’d taken from Mitch’s dorm room. It was my birthday, after all. It wasn’t my first joint, but it was the first since before, and I was planning on smoking it that night out on my balcony. Like a small, relaxed celebration just for me. “I’d already had a piece,” I said to Roach, but I still wasn’t looking at him.
“Okay, Princess.”
I didn’t know Roach very well. Actually, I didn’t know him at all. For, like, a second after he’d arrived, I’d thought he was cute, but then I was taken, and I hadn’t thought anyone was cute since then. It really didn’t help that he’d called me ‘Princess’ each and every one of the, like, three times he’d talked to me.
“Stop calling me that,” I said, still without looking at him.
“Why? You are one, so why not call you that?”
“I don’t like it.”
“What do you like?”
I liked being left alone, I liked closing the curtains around my bed and just lying there like it was my whole world, and I liked shooting at things. Paper things, mostly, but it was more about shooting than the target. I didn’t tell him any of those things, though.
“I’m sure Dad’s got, like, some rules about you guys talking to me.”
“He does,” Roach said. “Just came over to say happy birthday. So, happy birthday, Princess.”
He left, and I waited for a few extra seconds before looking at him to make sure… that it wasn’t… like he was…
I exhaled in relief when he didn’t turn around. It wasn’t something weird going on with him. He’d just come over to wish me happy birthday.
oOo
Roach
Roach was bored. Brick had established some firm rules for the birthday party, and one of them included no excessive drinking—which didn’t bother Roach—and no fondling the sweetbutts. Which actually didn’t bother Roach that much, either. He liked to get his dick sucked as much as the next guy, but it wasn’t a daily requirement for him.
It was more the entire vibe of the place that was bothering him and bored him to death. Everyone was careful, they even talked in lower voices than they usually did, and it was just weird and tense. All because of Princess Eliza.
He got it. The chick had been raped, and they’d been hard on her. Roach was one of the ones who’d found her, and she’d been black and blue with a dash of blood red. But if this was how people behaved around her, she must have been going nuts. It would drive him nuts, but then he doubted he had much in common with a chick like Eliza.
It was good that she had people who cared, of course, but still… Roach had met more than his fair share of rape victims. Hell, it had happened to him, too. There wasn’t a street kid out there who hadn’t been raped and beaten up a few times; it sort of came with the territory. Sure, it was probably a lot bigger deal when it was someone who’d grown up like Eliza—all protected and seemingly safe.
He still thought it had to be enervating for her to have people treating her like she was a retard.
He’d done his due diligence, though. He’d wished her happy birthday, and he’d given her a gift. Not that he knew exactly what the gift was. Mel had bought it, asked for money, and given it to him when it was already wrapped. Everything had to be perfect for Princess Eliza’s birthday—down to what gifts she got.
The first time he’d met, or rather seen, Eliza, he’d concluded she was the most spoiled and annoying brat he’d ever seen. Now she’d been hurt, but she was still a spoiled brat.
A few hours later, he saw her giving Billie a hug, and then Brick before she walked out the door, so he assumed his family duties were done for the day and turned to Bull.
“I’m off.”
“Yeah. See ya tomorrow.”
“Yup.”
He walked outside to go home, but just as he straddled his bike, he saw something red flashing by in the alley between the clubhouse and the fence. He went over to see what it was.
It was Eliza. She was sitting on the ground with one arm holding her legs in front of her, and in the other hand she had a cigarette.
She flew up to her feet when she saw him, and he held up his hands and took a step back to calm her down. For a second she was looking at him, and then she was back at that… annoying thing he’d noticed before, when she wasn’t looking at people. More staring at nothing.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she mumbled and wiped off her ass.
“You can smoke in the clubhouse.”
“I know,” she said and dropped the cigarette on the ground. “They pretend to not know I’m a smoker.”
Figures.
“A lot of pretending going on around you.”
Her eyes flew up and she looked at him, but she didn’t say anything.
She even had the typical blue shade of eyes as girls like her always seemed to have. Baby blue, his sister had called the color. He called them ‘cheerleader blue’ when blonde hair and clothes in happy colors accompanied them, like on Eliza. She definitely had a suburban cheerleader thing going.
“Anyway,” he said with a shrug. “Have a great birthday.”
She nodded, and just as he turned to leave, she spoke up. “Shooting.”
“What?” he asked.
“You asked what I liked. I like shooting. And drama. Like theater, I mean.”
Oh, yeah, she had that theater group thing. They called themselves something with cats, like pussycats, or… kittens, maybe. The shooting was a bit of surprise, though.
“Does Brick know about the shooting, or is it another thing he pretends isn’t happening?”
She smiled, widely. “You have no idea what you gave me for my birthday, do you?”
Busted. Obviously it had been something to do with shooting, but before he could figure out what to say, a hand landed on his shoulder, and Brick was standing next to him.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Eliza sai
d, and she was still smiling. “Just… Roach here accidentally let something slip. It’s fine.”
“What are you doing here?” Brick asked him.
“I was leaving when I saw something. I just went to check, and it was her,” he answered with a wave towards Eliza. Hoping that would be enough, he gave Brick a nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Ready to go home?” Brick asked Eliza, without letting go of Roach’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” she answered, and she wasn’t smiling anymore. “I’ll see you, Roach.”
“Um, yeah, sure,” he said with a nervous glare in Brick’s direction. It was probably very hazardous to his health to plan to see Eliza. “See you around.”
He was waiting for Brick to let go of his shoulder, but that didn’t happen, and as soon as Eliza was gone, he cleared his throat.
“I saw something, that’s all. I didn’t know it was her.”
“Okay,” Brick said with a nod and let go of him.
“I’m not an idiot.”
“I know. It’s just…” He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Take care, kid.”
Yeah, he was going to stay the fuck away from Princess Eliza. That kid smelled like trouble, and not for the reasons her parents thought.
oOo
Mel
“Where’s your dad?” she asked Eliza.
“I think he might be beating up Roach.”
“What? Why?”
“He talked to me.”
Mel laughed and put her arm around Eliza. “I think it takes more than that.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“What were you talking about?”
Mel didn’t know much about Roach. Along with Ahab, he’d been loaned to Greenville just six months earlier, around the same time as Eliza was taken, so she hadn’t been focused on the guest members. A third guy had been with them, but he’d left a few months earlier. What little she did know about Roach didn’t exactly comfort her. Brick had thought he was too young, and the president in the charter he’d been loaned from had simply said that Roach was a street kid—he could take care of himself.
“Just… stuff. I don’t know. He saw I was back there and came to check what it was, I guess.”
Mel knew Eliza had been smoking, she could smell it, but that was really low on the list of what needed to be dealt with when it came to Eliza. Considering that almost everyone around her smoked, it was probably impressive that it had taken as long as it had until she’d started. Besides, it was her eighteenth birthday. If she wanted to smoke, there wasn’t much Mel could do about it—in theory.
“Ready to go home?” she asked instead.
“Yeah. Thank you for all the gifts.”
“We didn’t get you that much.”
With the faintest of smiles, which was still enough to make Mel’s heart skip a beat, Eliza rolled her eyes. “Come on.”
“Well, we didn’t pay for that many of them.”
“They were great. Thank you, Mom.”
“What tipped you off?”
“Roach said something, and I think you mislabeled some of them. I doubt Bull would buy me a Susan Faludi book.”
“Actually,” Mel chuckled. “I didn’t buy Bull’s gift.”
“Oh… I think I need to say thank you an extra time, then,” Eliza said and took off towards the clubhouse.
Bull was one of few men Eliza could stand. Mel had a good idea why that was, but no matter what the reason was, she was glad there were some people Eliza trusted and wanted to be around. Mel was even more grateful for Billie. The first few months, Billie had been the only one who could get Eliza to leave the house. Mel didn’t even have a problem with them going to the shooting range. She liked the idea of Eliza being able to use a gun, and she knew Billie could teach her in a safe way.
Later that night in bed, Brick turned towards her and took the book from her hands.
“She was smiling.”
“Who?”
“Eliza. In the alley. She was with Roach, and she was smiling. A real smile.”
Eliza didn’t smile much anymore, it was just one of many ways she was different, and it was sad that something as small as a smile from her was now a big deal. Because it was.
“He’d said something confirming her suspicions that we’d bought some of the gifts the other guys gave her,” Mel explained.
Brick ran his thumb and index finger over his moustache the way he always did when he was thinking. She loved that gesture, and she leaned over and gave him a kiss.
“It’s killing me,” he mumbled. “I fucked up, my baby girl got hurt, and I don’t know…”
“You can,” she whispered. They’d had this conversations so many times. “You can keep us safe.”
“But I couldn’t, and she’s gone. I mean, she’s here, but it’s not her. And what’s really killing me is that she doesn’t hate me.” He took a deep, controlled breath. “I’d fucking do anything…”
Mel knew the end of that sentence. He’d do anything if it made her feel better for just one second.
“It’s slow, but it’s going in the right direction, honey. She loves you, with all her heart, just like I do, and that’s why she doesn’t blame you. You’re her hero.”
“Some fucking hero,” he muttered.
“You want to know the real reason?” she asked and hugged him closer. “You blame yourself enough for all of us.”
Brick didn’t answer and after a deep sigh, he actually smiled a little.
“I’d almost forgotten.”
“What?”
“How beautiful she is when she smiles.” He finally turned his head and gave her a kiss. “Like you.”
CHAPTER TWO
Suits You
oOo
ELIZA REALLY LIKED MAC and Mitch’s comics, and they always let her borrow them if she was careful. Then she realized they had others that they wouldn’t let her read.
“Who’s this?” she asked and held up a book. Some of the comics were in books, and she liked those better than the thin ones with different comics mixed.
“Spider Jerusalem,” Mitch answered before taking it from her. “You’re not old enough for that one yet.”
He said that often. He had loads of comics, or ‘graphic novels,’ as he called them, that he wouldn’t let her read.
“When can I read that one, then?”
“I’ll let you know.”
She sighed and picked up a Spider-Man. “Is it good then?”
“Really good. I think you’ll like it.”
“What if you forget about it before I’m old enough?” she tried, and pointed at the book in his hand. “Maybe it’s better if I read it now?”
“You’re eleven. It’s maybe, like, four years before you can read it. And no one forgets about Spider Jerusalem and Transmetropolitan, Buttercup.”
oOo
Eliza
I didn’t have all that many reasons to remember what day it was, but I knew it was Tuesday, since I had rehearsals that day. Thursdays were my sessions with Doctor Flores, but those were the only two weekdays I needed to keep in mind. It had been decided that I would take a year off before my senior year. I hadn’t exactly been present for that discussion, but around October I’d realized I’d forgotten about school. I didn’t mind. It would suck to have to start in a new class, but at the same time it might be better than going back to school with my old classmates. I kept in contact with those I cared about, like the ones in the theater group I was in, The Green Kittens. In November they’d contacted me and asked me if I wanted to come back to rehearsals. If I didn’t want to stand on stage, I could help with other things—they just missed me. Which was really sweet of them, and I’d agreed. They’d been so awesome. Not much weirdness going on at all, and hardly any weird looks after the first rehearsal. In a room with just girls my own age, and one of my brothers or Dad guarding by the door, I felt safe and myself. Partly because I got to pretend to be someone else. Like I got to be myself, but inside another per
son. I liked it.
It was Mitch who was going to take me to rehearsals that day, and we’d agreed that Dad would take me to the clubhouse, and then Mitch would pick me up there. I think it really was some elaborate plan from Mom and Dad to get me to socialize, but as long as those experiments were limited to the clubhouse and The Green Kittens, I wasn’t going to argue.
I left my bag with Dad and went to the bar to get a cup of coffee. Roach was behind the bar with a dishcloth in one hand and a bottle of 409 in the other, which wasn’t the normal sight when it came to members. In fact, I couldn’t remember ever having seen one of them cleaning anything but their bikes. When he looked at me, I realized I was staring and turned my attention to the coffeemaker to pour myself a cup.
He didn’t say anything, and from the corner of my eye I could see that he just kept rubbing the counter, which seemed a bit rude—that he didn’t even say hi. Then I realized I hadn’t actually said anything either. So I did.
“Hi,” I said, with my eyes firmly on the spoon in my cup as I stirred. He didn’t answer, and I cleared my throat and said it a little louder. “Hi.”
“Who are you talking to?” he asked.
Well, duh! No one else was even close. “You.”
“Then aim those baby blues at me, so I know that.”
Slightly confused, I looked at him, and he was smiling while still rubbing at some stain no one but him would, like, even notice.
“Hi,” he said with a courteous nod, almost a bow. “Want some cream with that coffee?”
“No,” I answered and started stirring again before throwing the spoon in the suspiciously clean sink. He had probably scrubbed that, too, because it had never been shinier. “Why are you doing that?”
He didn’t answer, and I knew why. I wasn’t looking at him, but I didn’t want that kind of contact with people anymore. Looking into their eyes created a connection that made me uneasy. It became personal, and it was easier to stay detached from people, conversations, and feelings while looking at inanimate objects. No one but the annoying… housemaid biker had ever called me out on it. Most pretended to not even notice. Like he’d said: there was a lot of pretending going on around me.
Equilibrium: A Marauders Interlude Page 2