The Naughty Box (9 books in 1 box set)

by Davis, SJ

  “Tell me everything about you, Sparrow,” he whispered. “The good. The bad. I want all of it. I feel like I am only getting the edges of you.”

  “I’m just slow, Layne. It takes more time for me to connect to people.”

  “Trust me, Sparrow. The most important thing for you to know is you can trust me. Always.”

  I took off my shirt and laid down next to him. I felt the heat from his back radiate around me. His fingers touched my neck and moved down to the cup of my bra. All I could do is hold my breath as he gently reached inside, his fingers instinctively gentle as they reached my nipple. My body tensed as I felt the heat rise within my body.

  “Layne,” I sighed.

  “Is this okay?” he asked. His voice was husky, his eyes closed.

  “Yes, it’s very okay,” I rolled towards him and kissed his eyelids.

  ***

  Layne’s band, Junk Shot, started touring again along the Southeast in the next week. Max, Jenny, Layne and I squeezed in as much time together as we could. From Aunt Shelby’s, we hopped on the metro red line to the National Gallery of Art. We entered the room, which held Edvard Munch’s Master Prints, and I could taste the mood of each print. Silently we walked back and forth, studying and gazing. The colored prints and his hand-painted variations swallowed me – all evoke basic human themes of birth and awakening, next attraction and love…then jealousy, separation, and death.

  “Are you Catholic?” Max asked me as we leave the exhibit. “Or do you do the Blackfoot ceremonies?” Max’s sudden question didn’t surprise me. He asked pointed questions of everyone and he, in turn, is the most open to explaining his worldview.

  “Well,” I began awkwardly, with three sets of eyes and ears locked on me. “I am both really. Both Catholic and traditional.”

  Traitor.

  Jenny walked closer to me and linked her arm in mine. “Sometimes I can’t help but feel guilty being part of the white Anglo culture.”

  “Stop, Jenny, really. What’s funny is that Catholicism sort of mirrors the Blackfoot faith: ‘I am the Sun, the Moon, and the Morning Star’ refers to our creator, but it’s very Biblical in its trinity.”

  “Do you pray?” asked Layne.

  “Yeah, I pray. Everybody prays. Even Atheists…they just lie to themselves about it afterwards.”

  Chapter Five

  I know the moment Mateo enters the house. I can taste the cold and then the heat of him. Finally, I feel the dark feeling of descent into an unknown place settling in my heart. Go, I hear Mateo’s voice in my sleep. Go to The Black Line.

  ***

  Jenny came with me the next day. I’m embarrassed by my hesitation. I walked down the sidewalk. Stop. Look in a window. Stop. Nervously chatter. Stop. Maybe I’m not ready. But something inside me felt like a tattoo like my mother’s would make me stronger and more like her. I remembered being held by my mother, being swayed in her soft and warm arms. The colors of her tattoo danced on her upper arm, while the wolf on her forearm protected me.

  The dim lighting of The Black Line made the dust look like fireflies when the outside light shot through the blinds. Jenny and I blinked, adjusting to the light.

  Stuart turned around. “What can I do for you?” He looked only at Jenny.

  “It’s me. Again,” I said loudly. “I am here to choose a design.”

  Stuart circled towards me and looked at my arms. He picked each one up and twisted it over, looking at them up and down. He pulled up my sleeves and ra his palm along my skin. He dropped my arms as if they started to burn his hands, throwing them almost from his grasp.

  “Do you want me to cover those cuts and scars? You will wreck your ink if you cut yourself again.”

  “How dare you!” Jenny said in my defense, unaware of the truth behind Stuart’s words.

  He’s not fool. He’s right. I almost said.

  “Sparrow was in an accident,” Jenny hissed, almost gasping for her voice, her chin to her chest and eyes glaring. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath. She grabbed my arm, “Let’s go.”

  Stuart is nonplussed by my cuts and by Jenny’s outburst, as he knows the truth. “Do you want your back done instead?”

  I followed him back to the drawings. Jenny stayed in the front, still glaring at Stuart. Large portfolios littered the table; plastic sheets covered intricate patterns and sketches. “Listen,” he growled. “I will tattoo you. But don’t put me in a position to make shitty art by cutting at it. And don’t waste the ink.”

  “What are you talking about?” I stiffened, not looking at him, flipping through pages. “Put you in what position? I’m a paying customer and my skin is the same as anyone else’s.”

  “You better wake up and realize it’s not. There is no room for error. A tattoo must be perfectly timed and perfectly placed.”

  ***

  Mateo laid on his side on my bed, looking at me as I entered the room.

  “Can you wear a bell or something?” I asked.

  “I thought you were getting pretty good at sensing when I’m here.”

  “Not today. I went to The Black Line.”

  “Good,” he answered. The sounds of drums and wailing fill my ears, I hear a low chant come from nowhere as Mateo kept staring into my eyes. When the desire becomes too great, the night will not contain me. I will prowl in the sun like the others.

  “I heard that. I hear you when you aren’t speaking.” I slide over on my bed and breathe deeply, weary of his riddles and pretty words. Mateo slid next to me, pressing his hard body into my back. I looked at him over my shoulder, reaching for his cheek. He feels cold. He feels like my mother when they covered her on the roadside. I feel so alone.

  A tear falls. Then I sob. The sounds of my pain remind me of a rain soaked canyon. A growling noise comes from deep in Mateo’s throat. I stare at his lips, crimson and full of warning.

  The sound of branches whipping against my window distracts me. We hear strange sounds outside, growling noises that aren’t from an animal.

  “This is why you aren’t meant to be here for long. This is why you need the ink as soon as you can tolerate it.” Mateo said, pulling the curtains together.

  “Well, I choose to be here.” I think of Layne, his blond dreadlocks, and I want him near me. “Aunt Shelby is all I have now. I don’t know if I will ever find a place that I belong to anymore. I’m just not a person who fits in…you know, typical Native girl.

  Mateo’s fingers reached for mine. So lightly that it only feels like a temperature change, no pressure. He leaned over and whispered to me. His head hung down, almost ashamed. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to be here. Like this.”

  All of a sudden a crunching sound came from outside my window. Mateo backed up against the wall and peered through the crack in the curtain.

  “What are you looking at?” I gazed down to the dogwoods then back at Mateo as his eyes searched the trees. His eyes narrowed at whatever is out there. His body stands still, fierce, and strong.

  “There are forces that seek to destroy you, to keep you from gaining strength. Forces that only you can destroy when you are strong enough.”

  “I really wonder what you’re talking about.”

  “You must choose your mark,” he says.

  “My mark?”

  “Yes, your ink. Time is running out.”

  “Mateo, are you really looking out for me or for something else?”

  “For you and for all the things that go bump in the night. Always have. Always will.” His hands cupped my face then slid down my arms and held my hands. I stepped backwards but stopped, my hands still inside of his. “We are all afraid of the night, the dark, the unknown. Sometimes we’re just afraid of ourselves. We are our own worst enemy.”

  “I don’t know what to be afraid of anymore.”

  “Get some sleep. You have classes tomorrow.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “Inches away from you.”

  ***

  Later,
I dreamt about my mother. She stood at the side of the road outside of the reservation. It’s snowing. Giant snowflakes fell in layers over her dark hair and glistened on her eyelashes. Wolves circled around her as she spoke to me. Her mouth moved but I heard no sound. I want her to breathe and walk and speak more than anything in this world.

  Chapter Six

  “And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, saying, ‘Drink of it, all of you: for this is my blood of the new covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” Matthew 26:27

  I heard these words and I woke drenched in sweat.

  “No, Sparrow,” Father Saint Crow’s voice echoed in my head. I saw myself standing. Small. Young. Innocent. Looking at the cold stone of the sanctuary floor. I saw myself as a girl in kindergarten: sagging knee socks, dusty shoes, too small dress, pony tail half fallen. “No. There is no one following you, Sparrow. No spirits, no ghosts. It’s your imagination. Ask God to forgive you of your sins and relieve you of your impure thoughts.”

  As it is now, it will be forever.

  My bedroom feels like a block of ice.

  Chapter Seven

  A quiet knock on the door sent me reeling. Butterflies attacked my stomach as I fell into a hectic frenzy of sorting the dirty from clean clothes in the heap on my floor. Jeans, check. Uggs, check. Light pink hoodie over a camisole, check.

  I wrestled with the deadbolt and finally opened the door. There he is. Layne. Mateo feels like a ghost as I look at Layne standing in front of me.

  “Layne! I had no idea you were back!”

  “Good morning.” Layne smiled. Something is different but I can’t put my finger on it.

  “Good morning back at you.” I opened my arms and wrapped them around his neck. He squeezed me in return, but quickly and with a platonic pat on my back. Maybe the time away from me on his tour has made him lose interest, or he’s probably here to tell me he’s met someone else.

  “Let’s go for a hike or something. Okay?” Layne’s voice was tight, his muscles in his neck and jaw popped out as he clenched. I mentally prepared myself for another loss. My nose started to run and my eyes watered but I cleared my throat and nodded.

  “The state park? Leesylvania?”

  “Sure.” As we walked in the direction of his car I noticed he walked several steps in front of me. His body language was disconnected from everything around me. He opened his door and grabbed his keys. The door slammed. “We can walk to the trails. There’s no sense wasting gas.”

  “Great. I certainly want to be green.” My voice caught in the back of my throat. He looked back at me and in a flash looked down at his keys.

  We walked down to the trails and while he walked ahead, I lagged behind even more. I felt a stabbing sadness.

  “Look.” Layne stopped and turned. I bumped into him but I don’t move away. My hip touched his. “I can be patient,” he said in a halted cadence with his hands in fists at his side. “It takes great effort, but I can. However,” he breathed deeply, “I need more from you in return.” He stared at my eyes, at my confused expression.

  “More than what? You’re gone most of the time.”

  “It isn’t time and it isn’t location…it’s…” He pointed to my heart. “It’s something that connects you to me, no matter where I am.”

  “Layne, I…” I searched for words but all I could feel was a bitterness in my mouth.

  “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe I want too much, too soon.” His voice was barely audible and he looks like a guy who has given up. “Do you just want to go back home?”

  “No. I don’t want to go home yet.”

  “Is there someone else, Sparrow? Or are you not ready?”

  I walked towards him until we are face to face by the river, anxious not to waste any more time. “I don’t want to go home. I’ll answer whatever you ask. I am ready.” The rest of our walk is hilly and damp along the edges of the Potomac River. He held the low hanging branches back from my face and balanced me as we climbed along the slippery rocks, but he let go quickly. His touch no longer lingered on my skin. We could see the beach in the distance. I stopped in a clearing to feel the sun. “Can we sit for a while?”

  “Sure.” He took off his black hoodie to use as a make shift blanket. I rested my head on his knees. His skin was tight and pale in the sun.

  “Is this okay?” I looked up at him, he has leaned back, face to the sky, eyes closed.

  “It’s fine. It’s okay.” He shifted his weight away from me, pulling back.

  My fingertips found their way to his. I traced the veins in his hand up to the pale tapered muscles of his arm. I sat up and our faces were so close that I felt his breath blend with mine. I leaned in until my lips brushed his. I felt him take a sharp breath and his chest expanded. Then he pushed himself into me, pinning me against the bottom of a large pine tree. His breathing was fast as he stared into my eyes, but he pulled away, supporting himself against the tree, bowing his head. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  I laid down, the sun on me. He looked at me without smiling. He bent down and lay on top of me, weightlessly, with his arms on each side of my head. We were inches apart, forehead-to-forehead. “Layne, I want you,” I sighed into his ear. “There is no one else, I will give you what I can.”

  “I need to be with you,” he finally said. “But I don’t know what it is between us. I don’t want this to be just a hook-up.”

  “I never thought this was a hook-up.”

  “And the fun stuff,” he smiled at me, “will be even better if we are open with each other. About everything, even if it’s scary.”

  “I know. I’m trying.”

  “It’s the only way two people can fit together in a way that can’t be broken. I want that with you, Sparrow. I want something unbreakable.”

  “I don’t know where to start.” I could tell him about Mateo, but would he believe me? Do I believe me?

  Somewhere inside I felt like if I gave Layne what he wanted, trust and honesty, that he would stay.

  He looked pained. “I don’t push you about the cutting. I kind of understand it. After the accident you probably have a lot to be angry about. Maybe you’ve closed yourself off from others, I don’t know.”

  “I don’t feel like I’m on solid ground.”

  “Did someone else hurt you?” His entire body tensed with his words.

  “No. But I’ve been warned someone might.” I played with my earring and looked away.

  “What? Someone wants to hurt you? Why?”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know.” Tears fell. He lifted up my chin and looked at my face, wet with tears and blotchy.

  “Who is it?”

  “I don’t know. Really. But it has something to do with my mother and the reservation.”

  You’re telling him too much. Shut up.

  “Are you safe here?”

  “I think so. There’s someone…looking after me.”

  He stared at me, waiting for more. He looked at me through his stringy dreadlocks, one eyebrow raised.

  “All right. Here goes.” I cleared my throat. “I have a spirit guide. Sort of a guardian.”

  “Spirit.” His voice was a flat monotone. “As in ghost?” he asked, skeptically. He looked pained.

  “Look, I know it sounds crazy.”

  Layne narrowed his eyes and moved me to his lap. He leaned his forehead on mine; we are eye to eye. “Are you messing with me?”

  “No. I wouldn’t do that.”

  Layne looked up at the sky as if the answers will rain down on him. “Like floating-through-walls spirit?”

  “No. Solid and very human looking.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, how do you know?”

  “Forget it, Layne. Maybe I’m crazy. I’m telling you what I know to be true. Are you happy now?” I stood up and looked to an open clearing.

  “Don’t do that.” He stood up too, his voice tinged with anger. “Don’t talk like t
hat to me. I’m here for you. I’m listening to all that you have to say.”

  “I don’t know what else to say”

  “Just continue with what’s real and with what’s the truth, the truth as you know it.”

  I shrugged and leaned against a tree.

  “I’ll help,” he begans again. “What does he or she look like?”

  “Well, he’s is a guy. Like you. Well, different…taller, darker, but human looking.”

  “Thanks, I don’t need a comparison,” he joked. “Can anyone else see him? Or just you?”

  “I don’t know. Can we stop talking for a while? I think it’s dangerous for you to know about this. Mateo thinks he is protecting me from something until I’m strong enough to go back to the reservation.”

  “No one will ever have your back like I will. No one will hurt you and no one will take you away, as long as you want me here with you.”

  “I believe you,” I answered. He laid me down and held my wrists on either side of my head, I could feel the pressure of his erection in my stomach and I needed him inside me. He swept my hair back from my forehead and kissed me, next he pressed his lips to mine, I breathed his breath as he gently licked my lips and met my tongue. I pulled one hand away and reached down to his jeans. He is slim, so I could reach inside his waistband easily as he lifted his hips. His hardness felt warm to my touch and he flinched when my hand wrapped around him.

  “Sparrow…” His voice was a mixture of heated desire and a pained need for release. “Sparrow, I can be what you need. Trust me.”

  I hope with all my heart that is the truth and not the beginning of the end.

  Chapter Eight

  Monday I am supposed to meet Jenny at the Natural History Museum. She texted me that she was delayed during a portfolio review for her Design Theory class, so I found a table in the corner. I see Mateo by the vending machines with his hands shoved in his pockets.