by Beth Hodgson
Slowly retreating from the corner, she eyed him curiously with her bright-green eyes.
“Here, I think you need this,” he offered, sliding one of the glasses toward her. Without saying a word, she nodded. Raising the shot glass, he waited for her to do likewise. After a moment, she caught on, raising her glass to match his. Then they both downed the whiskey at the same time, and he slammed his glass against the counter. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, setting the glass down gently. Amused, he chuckled, knowing that the alcohol was much too strong for her. But for what it was worth, he could tell she was trying not to show it, and she appeared able to hold her composure.
“Thanks,” she said after she cleared her throat, tears in her eyes from the burning alcohol.
“Hopefully it will make your night a little less shitty,” Kyle said, inhaling from his cigarette.
The woman smiled at him. “I meant getting that man away from me, but I suppose it can mean the drink too.”
“That guy was an asshole. The world needs a lot less of them.” Kyle’s cigarette continued to stream smoke as he seated himself by her. He hoped to God his face wasn’t fucked up or swollen. That would be really shitty, him all fucked up while talking to a beautiful woman.
“Well, thank you. I wasn’t sure how I would have gotten out of that situation.” Her green eyes looked at him with gratitude.
“You wouldn’t have,” Kyle told her bluntly. Taking the cigarette between his ringed fingers, he put out his cigarette, then exhaled the last of his smoke. He gestured to the bartender for another round. He lowered his head, dropping his voice. “Word of advice: Don’t try to bullshit people in the lower levels. They can smell it a mile away.”
“What?” The woman looked stunned at his statement. “Why do you say that?” She straightened herself in the chair with her chin raised. “How do you know that I wasn’t waiting for anyone?”
In a hushed voice he stated, “No offense, but you don’t look like the type to be just hanging around alone waiting for a guy in a place like this.” Kyle fetched his drink from the bartender, guzzling it down. “And your outfit. It’s a dead giveaway.”
She eyed the people around her, finally seeing what he saw. They knew she didn’t belong. She flashed a half convincing smile at the people around her, those who were staring. There was a sudden fear in her eyes. Turning back to Kyle, she blurted, “Am I that obvious?”
“Yeah.” With another whiskey in his hand, he pushed the drink toward her. “This isn’t the upper levels, where everything is safe. Girls shouldn’t be by themselves down here.”
The woman’s green eyes went wide, sucking in her breath. Leaning in, she whispered with concern, “You can tell I am from the upper levels? Do you think the people in this place know that too?”
Kyle shrugged. “Maybe. Just take another shot and don’t think about it.”
“I suppose.” The woman’s eyes lowered to gaze at her full shot glass, her lips slightly trembling.
“Don’t worry about it. If you want, I’ll stay here until you are ready to leave. I’ll even drop you off at the station if you need a ride.” Just then, he remembered that his friends were waiting for him at the other bar. To hell with those guys.
“I would like that.” Her sparkling green eyes met his, and she hinted a smile with her cherry-red lips. “Thanks…” She was searching his face for a name.
“Kyle.”
“Thank you, Kyle.” She flashed him a bright smile, taking another shot.
“What? I don’t get to know your name? What kind of shit is that?”
She paused for a moment, hesitant. Kyle continued to smoke his cigarette, watching her face contort while she battled some kind of internal struggle. He waved his cigarette. “It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me.”
“Em,” she said finally. “You can call me Em.”
“Em? Never heard that one before. Is it short for Emilia or something?”
“Something like that,” she said, her voice faltering. She gave no other details.
“Right,” he said, not sounding convinced, but he rolled with it. “So, Em, what great house were you born into? Or is that a secret too?” Kyle opened his pack of cigarettes, taking one while holding it open to offer one to her. Em declined by politely waving her hand.
“I would rather not say.” Her eyes met his. “And it doesn’t really matter. I am not going back.”
“Ah. You ran away?” Kyle lit his cigarette. Now this was interesting. What girl in her right mind would run away from a life of luxury?
She paused for a moment. “Yes. That’s exactly what I did.” She leaned in. “And I mean it. I never want to go back. Ever.”
“I see,” Kyle said. This girl was something, that was for sure. “Where are you staying, then? Not down here, I hope. No one volunteers to run away to the shittiest part of Arcadia.”
Em’s face looked a bit sad. “I don’t know where I am staying. I was hoping to rent a room somewhere until I figure it out.”
“I know a motel in a better neighborhood. I’ll take you there when you want to go.”
Em revealed a warm smile, causing his insides to burn. Her beauty was intoxicating, like a wicked poison that was seeping under his skin. God, he hated this shit. It drove him nuts.
“Yes, please. Is it in the mid-levels?” she asked.
Kyle shook his head. “As much as I would love to bring you to the mid-levels, I can’t afford the tax. The place is in the lower levels, but it’s in a better area. Still, don’t expect much. Anywhere in the lower levels is still shitty.”
“I see.” Em appeared to be thinking it over. He knew that he’d let her down about the mid-levels, but her being some type of highborn, she probably never had to worry about paying for things. Her expression melted away, and she focused on him. “I will take you up on the ride to the… motel, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.”
The two talked for a while more, until he had about two cigarettes left in his pack and the final band was packing up for the evening. The bartender hollered for last call, and the crowd began filtering out of the venue. Kyle wouldn’t have minded sitting there longer, but he had no choice. It was time to go.
Em caught on to the people leaving, giving him a look. “Well, I think we had better be going. Can you still give me a ride?” she asked as she bit her ruby-red lips, tossing her high ponytail aside over her shoulder. “That is, if you are fine to drive.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Come on.”
He led her out back to where his motorcycle was parked, and she stopped in her tracks, frozen. “I have to ride on that?” Her voice shook with fear.
Kyle laughed, the smoke coughing out of him as he did so. “You scared?”
“Yes, very much.” Em’s eyes studied the motorcycle.
“It’s the only transportation I got, but I’ll go slow for you. Get on.”
“How… old is it?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yeah, yeah, that seems to be the question when everyone sees it,” Kyle said, sighing.
Em’s cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insinuate…”
“Don’t worry about it. I won’t be losing sleep over it any time soon. The guys give me shit daily about it.” Kyle shrugged, motioning his head for her to get on his bike.
Em seated herself behind him. Kyle felt the warmth of her body against his back, sending a thrill of pleasure through him. She grabbed hold of his shoulders, bracing for him to take off.
Kyle cleared his throat awkwardly. “Hey, Em, that’s not gonna work. You’re gonna have to hold on to my waist,” he managed to say. “Otherwise you’ll fly off the bike. Don’t want that to happen.”
“Okay,” she said, hesitantly slipping her arms around his waist. Kyle felt her grip tighten as his motorcycle engine roared. Her hands felt good.
God help me…
“Hold on tight,” he ordered.
Then he took off, and the two of them were soon racing through th
e neon-blue and violet streets of Arcadia.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GREEN
The city was alive. Truly alive. The streets glistened with a light dew, streaked with reflections from the red and green traffic lights mixed with colorful neon signs. Emerald caught whiffs of sweet meats and steamed vegetables from the local shop carts selling foods to those who needed nourishment at a late hour. Other scents of spicy drinks, aromatic smokes, and the putrid smells of the sewers lingered, the last of them causing Emerald to keep her head close to Kyle’s studded jacket. The worn leather had Kyle’s scent on it, overpowering the others. A strong, fresh scent.
On one hand, the lower levels frightened Emerald, with its fair share of rough citizens, fights, riots, and the sheer grime that covered everything, casting an overall menacing appearance throughout. But looking past the strangeness of it all, there was a sense of freedom that emerged, giving Emerald a taste of new possibilities that had not been an option before.
“Hey, dickwad, can you go any slower?” a man shouted from behind. A considerably large motorcycle weaved past them, spitting out trash from beneath the peeling tires as the bike drove away.
Kyle ignored the bike and kept driving, but not without revving his engine in response.
Kyle was strange, no doubt about it. From his looks to his mannerisms, he was by far the most bizarre character that Emerald had ever met. But that wasn’t saying much, considering she had lived her entire life in the palace and only met citizens from the upper levels.
Emerald glanced out of the corner of her eye, noticing a body lying on the side of a street as they drove by, covered in blood. On the other side of the street, a medical transport drove by, passing the man.
“Why didn’t they stop?” Emerald asked loudly.
“Huh?” Kyle called out.
“The medical transport. That man needed help.”
“He couldn’t afford it, so they don’t even bother.”
“How do they know that? It didn’t stop to find out,” Emerald asked.
“They didn’t have to. You take one look at a person, and you know who can afford what,” Kyle stated.
“But that’s so wrong!”
“Welcome to the lower levels,” Kyle called out, continuing to drive. “It’s complete bullshit and pisses me off. But what the hell can anyone do about it? It’s always been like that; always will be like that. You’ll get used to it after a while.”
“I could never get used to it,” Emerald huffed under her breath. If I was Queen, I would make things different…
The two of them pulled up to a building in semidecent condition, lit up in pink neons with a flashing yellow sign that read “Vacancy.”
Kyle parked his motorcycle and killed the engine.
“Thank you for the ride,” Emerald said, getting off the bike. She turned to face Kyle, shuffling her boots. “I guess this is it?”
An amused smile appeared on Kyle’s face. “Em, you think I would just dump you out here and take off?”
“I don’t know,” Emerald said. “Is that not normal?”
“No. That isn’t. It would be a dick move if I did. I mean, I’m an asshole, but not like that.” Kyle nudged her playfully. “I’ll at least make sure you get a room and you’re safe before I leave.”
“Thank you,” Emerald said appreciatively.
Kyle cracked a small smile in response. It looked like he was about to say more on the subject, but he didn’t, and Emerald kept silent, giving him a smile in return.
As the two started walking toward the entrance, Emerald slowly took in the motel’s visuals and gulped. Even with the bright neons of the lights, suspicious characters paid no heed to concealing their fight. Two men near the sidewalk, each with a knife in their hand, were trying to stab one another while shouting obscenities. Sirens wailed, probably being called to the very scene Emerald was witnessing. Emerald tried to not stare in their direction and turned her gaze in Kyle’s direction. He seemed unaffected by the heated exchange of words, casually lighting up another cigarette. Within hours of being in the lower levels, Emerald had already witnessed two brawls. Was this what life was like all the time down in the lower levels?
“You said this is one of the better places down here?” Emerald asked quietly as she quickly walked past the argument.
Kyle laughed, then took another drag of his cigarette. “I told you it wasn’t much, Em.”
Emerald nervously eyed her surroundings. She had never spent a night without guards or servants. And here she was, in the bowels of the lower levels. No guards, no servants. Only accompanied by a strange guy in black leather with erratic hair. The feeling of being alone in Arcadia unnerved her.
“Lemme talk to motel owner,” Kyle said before he opened the door. “The less you talk, the better your chance in surviving this place. They might just think you’re from the mid-levels if you don’t say anything.”
“Okay,” Emerald agreed, shying away behind him.
The metal door made a loud creak as they entered, slamming hard behind them. Emerald followed behind Kyle closely. Beyond the thick layer of smoke that enveloped the air, there was an empty stained counter, snagged carpets on the floor, two lounge chairs that desperately needed to be replaced, and an elevator with a taped sign that read “Out of order, use stairs.” In a corner of the room, Emerald saw a monitor broadcasting the local news.
Kyle exhaled his cigarette causally, dinging a bell that sat on the counter.
“Why isn’t it electronic?” Emerald asked Kyle quietly, referring to the bell.
“Down here, everything is a piece of crap. Costs too much for all that fancy shit.”
“Oh.” Emerald lowered her face, feeling embarrassed for even asking.
“Hello?” Kyle called out, dinging the bell again. He leaned back against the counter, taking another puff of his cigarette.
Emerald watched the broadcast as they waited. Images of the riots appeared on the screen. Protesters burned stuffed representations of her father, King Damaris, lighting them on fire. Images of the strange robotic men, gunning down citizens with grafted arms.
“Hello?” Kyle said, raising his voice, slamming the bell over and over. “Anyone fucking here?”
At that moment, Emerald heard a back door open behind the counter.
“I was starting to think the sign out front was full of shit,” Kyle stated.
“The wife,” a man said as he rolled his eyes, appearing before them. “You know how it is. You leave in the middle of her talking, there is hell to pay.” The man took a drink from behind the counter.
“Sorry, dude. I know how that goes.” Kyle shrugged, exhaling a waft of smoke into the thick air.
“Don’t we all?” The man eyed Kyle, then glanced at Emerald. “How long you need it for? Two hours?”
Two hours? Why would anyone need a room for two hours?
“It’s not like that,” Kyle said, shifting his eyes and taking another drag. “She needs a room for the night.”
Suddenly Emerald felt completely stupid, realizing what the man was insinuating. She turned away, flushed with embarrassment. Did people really rent a room just to do that?
“Sure, whatever you say,” the man said back. He let out a loud laugh and took another drink. “Need to see her ID.”
Emerald’s heart quickly leapt out of her chest. She had no ID. She froze in place. The only movement she could make was her hands fumbling nervously on her ponytail.
Kyle’s dark eyes met hers and gave her a knowing look. Quickly turning back to the motel owner, Kyle opened up his wallet, sliding his ID across the counter.
“I need hers,” the man said, sliding Kyle’s ID back to him.
Emerald was about to open her mouth, but Kyle interceded. “She lost it. You don’t really need hers, do you?”
“Yes, I do. If she’s staying in the room, I do. It’s the law.”
“Since when?”
“Since recently.”
“Listen, j
ust use mine. One ID for one person.”
“Can’t, buddy. I get audited. I don’t need this place closed down on account of some girl off the street,” the man said, drinking another glass, eyeing Emerald. “Or should I say, someone from the mid-levels.”
He knows I’m not from down here…
“It’s fine, Kyle,” Emerald whispered quickly. “Thank you anyway, sir.” She was about to bow, but then stopped herself from doing so, awkwardly waving instead.
“Yeah, thanks. For nothing,” Kyle muttered as they exited onto the street.
“I’m sorry for wasting your time. I had no idea that they needed an ID I feel terrible that you drove me all the way here for nothing,” Emerald said, lowering her gaze.
“I don’t blame you for not wanting to show your ID The authorities would find you immediately if someone reported you missing.”
“I don’t even have an ID to show.”
“No ID?” Kyle glanced at her quizzically. “What are you talking about? Everyone has an ID to get around in this place.”
“I’ve… never had one,” Emerald managed.
“Well, that’s a first. Don’t they have IDs on the upper levels? Or is it only us lower and mid-level scum that they need to subdue?”
“Subdue? What do you mean?”
“Em, you are really strange.”
Emerald popped open her eyes. “Strange? You think I am strange?”
“Yeah, you are.” Kyle’s lips curled, half amused. “Let’s get going.”
“Where are you taking me? I can’t rent a room anywhere…” Emerald began.
“My place,” Kyle said, taking the last puff of his cigarette and flicking it on the ground. “That is, unless you wanna squat on the street somewhere. I know a couple of abandoned buildings.” He got onto his bike, starting the engine.
Emerald glanced at him, pausing.
He’s right. It’s much better staying at his place rather than the street, she reasoned.
Deciding she was better off taking her chances, Emerald slid onto the back of motorcycle seat and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her cheeks burned again for being so close to an almost complete stranger.