Indigo: The Saving Bailey Trilogy #2

by Nikki Roman

  “I lost the apartment, Bailey. I was fired days ago. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  I turn to Dad. “You knew?”

  He smiles innocently and shrugs his shoulders. “Surprise!”

  Bailey is confused. But, Indigo—oh, Indigo—is fuming like green mist off of a nuclear waste site. Indigo isn’t about to let Dad get off that easy.

  “Surprise this!” I yell swiping my salad to the floor. “How dare you! How could you, Dad! You promised! You said you would take care of me. You made me a home, a safe nest, and then you invited the demon to lie with me. You don’t care about me. You don’t give a damn about me!”

  “Bailey, young lady. You apologize right now and clean that up!” Mom reprimands.

  “Sydney, just leave her alone,” Dad says.

  “Leave me alone? Ha! Now she never will, you’ll see, Dad. You’ll see how well she leaves me alone!”

  “This is how you treat your father and I?” Mom says. “We gave you all the money we had today and this is how you repay us? Where is it, what did you spend it on? That awful haircut, drugs?”

  “Sydney, cut it out. She’s right, I should have asked her, first,” Dad says, his voice rising.

  I whip myself around and dash into the bedroom. “Indigo, Indigo…” I say under my breath. “Come on out, Indigo! Where the fuck are you?”

  I jerk forward, ripping into Mom’s boxes, and find the one with her undergarments in it. Mom and Dad are fighting with each other, and for the time being, at least their attention isn’t on me. I grab my mother’s lingerie—red and black, pink and white, lacy, frilly, stringy things. Silky bras and panties that she hasn’t worn since my father left. Stuffing her lingerie into my jacket, I silently hope that she was skinnier back then.

  I kick off my boots and trade them for a pair of Mom’s bar-heels, and then swap my skirt for a pair of black skinny jeans. Underwear and bras scatter the room. They bury my pill bottles. I take up Harley’s keys and my fake license.

  “Where the fuck are you going?” Mom asks, as I fling open the front door.

  “What does it matter? I’ll be back by sun up.”

  “You’re sixteen, you’re not going anywhere!”

  “Bailey, please calm down. Let’s talk this out. It’ll be okay, everything is going to be okay,” Dad coaxes.

  “Daddy, it’s too late to talk. She’s here and I’m leaving. You’re right, I’m going to make everything okay.”

  “Honey—” he says.

  I shut the door.

  The night air is musky and thick like smoke from a joint. I wheel the bike away from Dad’s truck, wait for the engine to warm up, and then zip off into the night.

  •••

  Bailey would have waited for things to mend themselves, but Indigo is a go-getter. She is— I am—going to fix this mess. Now. I didn’t just get my name for my eye color, I acquired it when Cairen molested me at the club. I took a part of it with me—a nasty part—but a part nonetheless. And now I will use that awful part to my advantage. Indigo is the answer to my problems.

  It’s a Friday night and the club pulses with music and jerking bodies. The bouncer at the door looks familiar; maybe he’s the same one who let me in before. But that was Bailey, not Indigo.

  “I.D.,” the bouncer says, his eyes sidetracking to the left.

  I show him Bailey’s fake I.D.

  If I’m Indigo, pretending to be Bailey, who is pretending to be Sherry, does that then make the I.D. doubly fake? Is it doubly noticeable that I’m not Sherry?

  “That’s not going to work this time, kid. You don’t look a day over fifteen.”

  “Excuse me?” I say. “Do you not know who I am?” Indigo knows exactly who she is, how intimidating she can be. “I’m Indigo, an Allie and you’d better let me in or you’re gonna have to deal with my leader, Cobra Cai.”

  “The Allie? You an Allie? But you’re so tiny!” The bouncer chuckles.

  “I can get Cairen if you’d like…”

  “No, no, it looks legit. Go right in,” he says, making way for me. “Tell Cairen I said hi.”

  “Will do,” I say saluting him as I go into my warzone. The red dancing lights are lasers on a gun sight, the loud music—gunfire. Ella, swerving on the stage, is the enemy. I shoulder my way to the front. I wave a dollar at the edge of the stage like the men are doing to draw in the dancers. Ella grabs it and I don’t let go. “Hello there—friend.”

  “Bailey, Oh my god, I didn’t recognize you. Your hair! Your clothes! You look so much older.” I put my palms flat on the stage and lift myself up. “What are you doing? You can’t be up here!”

  “I’m here to work,” I say, pulling out Mom’s lingerie. “You owe me, Ella, you let Cairen drag me into that bathroom. You may have stopped him from raping me, but then you were gone. I didn’t get no follow up call, asking if I was all right.”

  “Well, you don’t seem all right. You seem like a lunatic!” Ella says. “Bailey, you’re too young. You can’t work here.”

  “It’s just for tonight,” I say. “Trust me, I’ll make plenty of tips.”

  “What if the boss sees you? The other girls?”

  “Then I’ll deal with them, don’t worry about it.” I take my jacket off and put it at my feet. “Here, hold my tank top,” I say to Ella, who is gaping at me in paralyzed shock.

  “Bailey!”

  “My name’s Indigo for the night, got it?” I hop around the stage struggling with my tight jeans. I stand in my bra and panties with Ella looking on horrified. “Is this okay? Can I wear this? I brought lingerie.”

  “You-you look great,” Ella stutters. “But Bailey…. I mean, Indigo, you don’t even know how to strip dance.”

  “Did Mom ever tell you I could have been Prima Ballerina of my dance studio? I’ve watched you Ella, all it takes is flexibility and core strength. I can work the pole.”

  “Holy shit, you can’t. You’re only sixteen!”

  “Look, I’ve done worse things,” I say. “Guys look at me all the time, might as well get paid for it, right?”

  I strut over to the pole. All the other girls are wearing matching bras and heels. I would be taller than most of them even in bare feet; I tower in my heels.

  My neon pink underwear stands out beneath the green flashing lights. My wild mane attracting attention like a Lamborghini driving through the ghetto. Come on boys, I think. Indigo needs to get her mommy’s apartment back.

  I leave the pole and go right up to the front of the stage. I straddle at the edge of the stage, come back onto my feet, spin and sashay to the pole. Eyes follow my behind, follow my slender legs as they wrap around the pole. I climb and hang upside down, slowly removing my hands, only my thighs and calves holding me; tricks I have seen Ella do. Oh, and I smile so damn widely that my jaw shakes from the pressure of my teeth gnashed together.

  I return to where the men are all grouped together at one end of the stage and money lands at my feet like Frisbees at a dog park. Tens, twenties, a fifty tucked in my underwear. Bailey could never do this; Bailey would be a puddle at the back of the stage. Indigo is putty in their hands.

  I’m still collecting my payment for slutting around the stage, when Ella comes up to me and yanks me backward by my shoulders. “Bailey, Indigo, whatever the fuck your name is, my boss is coming. Hurry, run, I don’t know—do something!”

  “How about I give him a lap dance?” I giggle with my hand over my mouth, unable to contain myself—or Indigo, that is.

  “Go!” Ella pushes me toward the stairs, I stop to bend down and gather money falling from my bra. She shoves my clothes into my arms and more money falls around me. It’s raining money.

  “Well, I guess I made enough,” I say sitting on the stairs to put my clothes on.

  “My ass is on the line, too. Get dressed and don’t come back. I’ll tell the bouncers not to let you in.”

  “Those bouncers are scared of me more than you,” I say. “Wait! My mom’s lingerie! Where
is it?” I look across the stage but can’t see anything past the strobe lights and heels stabbing the stage.

  “I don’t know!” Ella says. “Leave now. Or I’ll have the bouncers throw you out!”

  “No, I need my mom’s lingerie if she finds out I took it she’ll beat me to death!”

  “I thought you didn’t give a damn ‘bout nobody. You’re scared of Mommy? I knew it. You’re just a scared little girl,” Ella mocks me.

  I try to climb back on stage but she pushes me down the stairs, and does the signal for me to be escorted out. Three bouncers, all larger than the mountain guarding the entrance, come at me. “Please, Ella. My mom will kill me.”

  “I don’t know where it is Bailey, I’m sorry,” she says. “You shouldn’t have come here. This is no place for a sixteen year old girl.”

  “This is no place for an eighteen year old girl either, Ella.” I abandon her, standing there as her boss and the bouncers converge on us.

  Pushing against bodies, I spot the red exit sign and head for it. Stay away, Bailey, I think. Please don’t come out yet, not here, not now.

  •••

  I make it out of the club without screaming, punching walls, or bursting into tears. Shaken up, I find it hard to breathe as the warm air clings to me like saran wrap. Harley’s front wheel is turned inwards; her mouth tilting at me in disappointment. Pulling my keys out of my jacket, I fumble with my shaking hands to start her up. After a couple of attempts she is alive and rumbling beneath me, taking me home.

  Bailey is scared of her mother, scared of what she will do when she sees her lingerie missing. I am Bailey now. Indigo doesn’t want to stay for the beatings and pain. Maybe she is the real coward, not Bailey. Either way, I’m skidding to a stop in my dad’s empty drive, Mom standing cross armed at the door.

  I turn the bike off but remain on it. I’m not about to get close to her.

  “Where’s Daddy?”

  “Looking for you!” Mom says.

  She’s mad as a dog off the streets.

  “I found drugs in your skirt. Where’s my lingerie, huh? Where were you? Where were you! Stop staring at me dumbly, I want answers!”

  “I didn’t buy drugs, I promise,” I say. “I-I- don’t know where your lingerie is.” I get off Harley and walk cautiously toward her.

  “Tell me the truth, were you at Indigo? Your father said something about Indigo…where’s my lingerie? Where did the money go?”

  “I lost it,” I say, hoping that by being truthful she will go easier on me.

  “The money?”

  “Your lingerie—at Indigo.”

  Her hand slices across my cheek. The truth hurts, badly. I take a step back and shake my head, which is spinning from the strike. I empty my clothes of all the money I earned at Indigo. It falls between us like a green paper mote. “I hate you, Mom, I hate you so bad. I thought I could earn the money you needed to pay your bills; I want you out of my house. You don’t belong here!”

  “This,” Mom yells, “is your father’s house, not yours. And he’s graciously letting me stay here and you can’t do anything about it!”

  “I can, I will. You had your stronghold on me for eleven years, damnit, Mom, when are you going to let go? I could be dead and your warm hands would still be slapping my face, beating my cold body. I’m not your punching bag anymore, Daddy promised!”

  “You’re my daughter and I’ll slap you if I want! Your dad can’t stop me from punishing you.” Mom’s hand hits my face again, her palm closing into a fist just before clipping me on the chin.

  My right leg is solid on the ground and my left is leaning in a running start, caught between Bailey, who wants to stay, and Indigo, who would rather run. Indigo drags Bailey’s leg behind her, forces the knee to bend and my heel to touch gravel. Mom screams for me to stop. She’s too pregnant to run.

  I zip straight into the little patch of woods behind the trampoline, tripping over low lying branches, my heels sinking into the soft ground. My jacket snags on something, and I think it’s caught on a tree, but I pull and it doesn’t give. I turn around and see Mom, my sleeve pinched in her hand. Screaming, I rip my jacket off; Mom drops it in the dirt and claws for my arm.

  Her nails dig into my forearm and latch on. Jerking me down, she pushes me into the wet ground. Something stabs my arm; it sinks into my skin sharp as a blade. The harder Mom pushes me down, the deeper it cuts.

  “Stop, Stop!” I scream. Maybe she doesn’t see what is cutting me, it’s too dark.

  Dark enough to conceal murder.

  “Please Mom, you’re hurting me!” I try to kick free but my legs are cramped beneath the weight of her body, rendered useless. Half my body is in the slowly ebbing creek and the other half is deep in mud. The blood on my arm is warm, the pain in my arm is warm, and my head is full and fuzzy. My teeth gnaw at the inside of my lip.

  “The day you were born we all went to hell in a hand basket! You know why? Because your father stopped seeing me. All he cared about was that damn little girl and her ugly black curls and eyes as big as the world!”

  Her hand digs around in the creek, she pulls out a rock. “The crying little girl who never, never, stopped wailing, no matter how long I held her!”

  “I was crying for my father!” My fingers wrap around her hair and tug on it, I don’t want to kill the baby, but I have to fight back or I will die here. Die in this creek, being clubbed to death by rocks.

  The creek taped off with caution tape—yellow plastic wrapping over tree limbs and weaving through the swing set. I see the wheel of tape bounce against the surface of the trampoline, unraveling.

  “Help me, pleaseee!” I cry out in desperation.

  “There’s no one here,” Mom cackles. “There was never anyone here for you!” She raises the rock above my temple.

  I close my eyes and imagine how Clad will feel when Mom makes his painting come to life. When he has to stand next to my casket and hold real flowers in his hands at a real funeral, looking into the dead eyes of a real dead girl—that real dead girl he loved to the end of the universe and back.

  I hear crunching, the crunching of leaves as someone walks across the backyard and toward us. I dive my hand into the creek, grab a clump of mud and smear it on my mother’s face. She lets go.

  I can barely find my legs to stand on. Leaning against a tree, I watch the figure as it comes nearer. Mom watches too, blinking away mud.

  Parting with the stable tree, I unsteadily move toward the person. Curly hair and the faint scent of Irish Spring body wash—Dad.

  I keep on walking. He passes me and goes to Mom. I walk to the front of the apartment and pick up one of the fifties I earned at Indigo.

  Yelling erupts from the dense trees, a voice that could make birds fly from their nests. Sydney, Sydney, daughter, daughter, Bailey, Bailey. What did you do? Dad’s monster voice growls.

  I let out a scream. I want him to leave her alone, to come running to me, because I think the stress of his yelling will kill the baby.

  Dad’s footsteps come my way. He stops dead in his tracks, a foot from me. His eyes taking in the blood on my arm, the jagged cut that is dripping on the gravel, the water soaked through my cut off tank top and my tear stained face.

  I haven’t stopped screaming, my eyes are closed and my head is thrown back, like Dad is a dentist, inspecting my molars. He grabs my wrists and brings my arms around his waist, clutching me tight to his chest. My screams turn into openmouthed sobs.

  I punch his stomach with small, little girl punches. “You promised, you promised!” I say. “You promised I would be safe. You were supposed to protect me. Well, you can have her. You two can have that baby and create a perfect little family. I’m leaving—forever.”

  Dad’s arms hang at his sides, he lifts his hands, as if in a plea for me to stay, tears coursing down his bronze cheeks.

  I turn from him and take wobbly steps toward Harley. I sit down and start the engine.

  “I believed in you,
” I say. “I really thought you would take away the pain. I’m sorry, I was wrong. I’m sorry I opened myself up to you so freely and tried to be your little girl again.” I look down at the handle bars, shaking my head and pursing my lips together. “I wanted happiness, thought we could share it.”

  “Bailey, don’t go,” Dad says. “I’ll make it right again, your mom can stay somewhere else. Please, don’t leave me; you’re all that I have.”

  “No,” I say. “You have the baby.”

  They have their family now. A Mommy. A Daddy. A new baby. It is the correct thing for me to do, after already taking so much of their lives.

  I let Bailey die right there; I run her over with Harley’s back tire. Indigo has her own family too; it’s time she goes to be with them.

  Chapter 31

  Love and pain are one in the same. Love drives me away, pain drives me away. Love and pain make me weak, make me strong. Love and pain bring me to the Allie in the dead of night.

  I climb over the fence and stand in the light of a crackling fire. They cheer, Indigo has returned. Everyone is happy I’m where I belong—everyone except Bailey, who I thought I killed. But somehow she stuck to my bike’s tire and followed me over the fence. She just doesn’t give up.

  “Give us a minute, guys,” Holden says to Cairen, Ashten, and Alana.

  “Can we talk on the other side of the fence?” I ask.

  “Sure.”

  Holden gives me a boost. We both use my bike as a stepping stool.

  Slouching, I hang my legs over the side of the bike. Tired and sore, I want to sleep, want someone to hold me. I lean my head against Holden’s arm.

  “My mom did me in tonight,” I say.

  “That bitch!” he spits.

  “I think she took the Mollys Ashten gave me…” The idea wakes me up a little.

  “Damn, isn’t your mom pregnant?”

  “Maybe not anymore,” I say wearily. “I just want to sleep and not think about it. Can you show me a place to lie down?”