Dirty Little Freaks

by Jaden Wilkes

  She looks at me with such sadness and hope that I smile and lie to her, “Of course he’ll pick you, he’d be insane not to.”

  Eva mopes around the apartment for a couple of days before she confronts Diesel. I’m not sure backing him into a corner is the right thing to do; I have a feeling he’s going to react badly.

  I must be a fucking psychic, but I guess you don’t need a sixth sense to figure out that young punk rock lead singer dude isn’t exactly going to fall on his knees and propose when he’s given an ultimatum.

  I get home from work a little late, it’s nine in the morning when I stagger in. I need sleep and I need to numb my head with just a small hit on my pipe. I’ve gotten this amazing weed from the Kootenays that helps put me to sleep like nobody’s business.

  I head to my room and pack the bowl of my pipe. I’m about to spark it up when I hear screaming from Eva’s room.

  I run to find her hunched on the floor, her face a red mask of rage. She’s holding her phone in her hand and she says, “I hate him, I fucking hate him so much,” and sobs.

  I take the phone from her hand and read the last text from Diesel. It says, “Yo, just do what you need to do, I’m out. It wasn’t going anywhere anyhow. See you round.”

  “This is his reaction to your talk?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she wails and visibly tries to calm herself down. She manages to get out the rest of the story between sobs. “He came over last night, they’re leaving on tour in a few days. He told me he didn’t want to be monogamous while he was away. He basically told me to fuck who I wanted, because he was going to.”

  “Son of a bitch, I wish I could cock punch him for you,” I say and hand her phone back. I can’t say much more, I’m lost in my own world of worry. Is this why Hush ran out on me? Is he out there somewhere fucking new pussy and laughing at the stupid bitch he left behind?

  Chapter Nine

  Transition is a Shitty Word

  A couple of weeks after Diesel’s departure, life feels like it’s returned to normal. Maybe.

  There were a few shitty nights where Eva would pace and cry about Diesel, but mostly she was fine about it. I think she mourned the loss of the idea of a relationship more than the actual relationship.

  Work was the most pleasant consistent thing in my life. I felt like the old Looney Tunes cartoon with the two dogs trading shifts whenever I took over for Jag. Generally we barely say more than ten words to each other so it surprised me when today of all days he hangs around after I get there. He looks a little uncomfortable and I worry that he’s going to proposition me for a BJ or something. I have had very few men in my life that don’t try to fuck me, so he’s been more valuable than he could ever realize.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asks as I settle in behind the register.

  “Doing what? I’m getting ready to work.”

  “Exactly, this, working here, doing nothing with your life?”

  “Slow down, Dad,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “how do you know I’m doing nothing with my life?”

  “You have the look of somebody doing nothing. You come in here night after night, mope for a few hours, sigh a hundred times a minute and constantly check your phone. What happened?”

  Awe, how fucking sweet; Jag does care. I knew it! “I’m just doing what I do best, working hard and keeping my head down. I don’t really need to do much more.

  “You are too intelligent to be wasting your life in this shit hole,” he keeps going. “I’ve watched you coming in like clockwork for three years now, and it’s time you made a change.”

  “I’m too old for change,” I say, not really liking where this is going. I know what I want to do with my life, but I don’t want to want, not after everything I’ve learned in this life. Wanting lets me down, needing leaves me empty.

  “Bullshit,” he guffaws. “You know that’s bullshit.”

  The way he pronounces bullshit makes me chuckle, but seeing how Jag almost never swears, I do take what he says seriously. I pull back my knee jerk reaction to come out fighting and force myself to reply as kindly as possible, “Thanks for your input, but I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you, this job.”

  He holds up a little bundle of papers and says, “I think you do. I found these in the drawer under the register. You want to get your GED, why? You don’t need it to work here.”

  He’s got my study kit that the college sent me to prep for my test. Fuck, I knew I should have thrown it out when I ditched the test. “It was a whim, a passing fancy,” I say and clench my fists. I don’t like being backed into a corner like this but I don’t want to fight him. “I’m apparently not smart enough to take the exam anyways.”

  He stares at me, shakes his head and says, “We both know that’s complete and utter bullshit. And I had a feeling you would say that, so I took the liberty to sign up for you.”

  “What do you mean?” I demand. How dare he interfere in my life? Fuck I’m getting sick of people lately.

  “I want you to do this, I don’t want to see you sitting here rotting away, doing nothing,” he tells me. “I’m going to fire you.”

  The air leaves my lungs and I can’t breath. I don’t like change, and this has been the steadiest thing in my life, pretty much ever. “You can’t fire me, now that’s bullshit,” I yell at him. Fuck, what the fucking fuck is wrong with these fuckers lately? My life feels like it’s on shaky ground and I need something to hang on to. My brain instantly jumps to booze, drugs, sex, anything to make me feel sane again.

  “I am going to fire you if you don’t promise me you’ll go take the test,” Jag says, his voice calm and forceful. “I’ve talked about this with my wife and she agrees, you need to do something with your life.”

  “Your wife? What, your arranged marriage child bride?” I sneer. “What the fuck does a housewife know about this shit?” I’m instantly sorry for sounding like such a racist douche to the nicest man I know, but I can’t hold back. I’m frightened by his demands.

  “Actually, my wife is a nurse, she insisted on getting her education before we were married,” he smiled, the love in his eyes as he speaks of her makes me feel even more like a gigantic douche. “That’s part of the reason I fell in love with her. And yes, it was highly suggested that we marry, but most arranged marriages are rather loving and happy.”

  I know this; I mean I’m not really a racist, judgmental piece of shit, I just don’t know how to react when I feel like my buttons are being pushed. I just want to know that I can go to sleep in my comfy bed in my apartment, maybe read a book, rub one off, and get up to the same predictable day. I love the movie Groundhog Day; that kind of consistency is intoxicating to me. If I need to blow off some steam, I’ve got Eva and I’ve got my music, my clubs and drugs and anonymous sex. Hush ruined this for me, with his promise of a Plenty of Fish style fucking romance. I can’t handle Jag trying to ruin the delusion that I’m no better than the life of drudgery in a disgusting porn shop in a shady part of town.

  “I know,” I reply, beaten. He’s serious and I don’t want to shove back in case he fires me on the spot.

  He hands me the GED study guide and some assorted papers. “I’ve highlighted your test time, you can take four days off before so you can study,” he tells me, “with pay. I want you to do this.”

  I nod and take them from him. I don’t know what to say so I say nothing. Saying thank you is not easy for me, but I don’t think Jag expects it, he knows what it means to me when I accept the arrangement.

  He grabs his briefcase and shrugs his jacket on. He walks to the door and turns back as he leaves. “Have a good night Jade, and I know you can do this. I believe in you.”

  I raise my hand and give him a little wave. At this point I definitely can’t tell him thank you, I can barely keep the tears down that are threatening to choke my speech.

  He’s gone, so I sit down and open up the study guide. It’s all easy, stuff I knew
years ago. The thing is, I know I’ll ace this test, I know everything they want me to know, I’ve just never wanted to do well before. The concept is foreign to me.

  In third grade I was doing grade five work. I was bored amongst my peers, so for shits and giggles, my teacher Mrs. Lawson gave me some math and reading from a couple of grades ahead. I ate that shit up. Anything anyone told me stuck, it was in there forever no matter how much I tried to forget. Everything stuck, from mom screaming ‘you ugly little slut’ when she was on a bender, all the way to the Fermat’s last theorem. It all stuck.

  By the by, I wasn’t a slut for the years I lived with my mother. I wasn’t a slut at birth. I came by it honestly but surprisingly didn’t lose my virginity until grade twelve. I was almost eighteen, I’d already dropped out of school and thought there was no harm letting some fucking poser from London take a stab at me with his five inches of thunder. It wasn’t bad though, the false sense of connection with another human being, so I became a slut. I was in control of my sexuality…until Hush came along.

  Either way, everything I ever learned or heard or felt…it’s all in there, from age two to now. When Mrs. Lawson called my mom in for a meeting, I was spanked the night before. Mom assumed it was for something bad, in spite of my screaming protests.

  When Mrs. Lawson suggested I skip a few grades and join the gifted students club after school, my mom had shut her down.

  “I don’t want no kid of mine thinkin’ she’s all that,” mom had said. “It’s bad enough she’s such a judgmental little bitch already, you keep pumping her full of shit like this and she’ll start to think she’s better than me n’ her step dad.”

  I wasn’t sure which step dad she had been referring to, she had been fucking two different men that time, both of them married to other people. I told you, mom was a piece of work.

  “But Mrs. Daniels, she’s smart enough to move ahead, and she told me she has nothing to do after school,” Mrs. Lawson had told my mom. “It would free up some time for you, and I’ll make sure she gets fed.”

  “Are you trying to tell me I can’t take care of my own fuckin’ kid?” mom had snarled. “This meeting’s over, she’s not going to your little nerd club, and she’s comin’ straight home after school whether you like it or not! Come on Jack, we’re goin’!”

  I avoided looking Mrs. Lawson in the eye on their way out. I couldn’t bear seeing my beloved teacher’s pride turn to sympathy.

  That night I got one fuck of a beating, first for being too smart, and second for being an ugly little slut. We moved a week or so after that, so I hadn’t had to suffer Mrs. Lawson’s sympathetic glances for too long.

  But I learned a hard lesson that time. To survive meant to hide my intelligence and never let mom think I was putting on airs. A lifetime of camouflaging my intelligence was not easy to slough off, but I was starting to admit to myself this is what I want. Hush had shaken my world, maybe it was a good thing, maybe a little shaking up would allow me to land somewhere else, a little closer to going to university and living a life as normal as I could stomach it.

  I hear the buzzer and look up to find Rev swaggering in, a grin on his face.

  “Hey there,” he says, “got any discount dildos for sale? Maybe a return? I’m not too picky.”

  “Haha, gross,” I reply and laugh. He really is a cheeky bastard, but in a sort of cute way. Fuckable. Again. The only problem is that the last time I saw him was the last time I saw Hush, the first time we had said I love you and the first time he decided to bail.

  “So, I was expecting a call,” he says.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “I told you to call me when that loser decided he wasn’t good enough for you,” he smirks and steps closer to me. I’m up about six inches on the raised platform behind the register, this puts us a little closer to being eye to eye. I think he’s still got ten inches or so on me, I’d forgotten how tall he is.

  “Maybe I decided he wasn’t good enough for me,” I say, and smile to hide my little wince of heartache.

  “That’s a good thing,” he says and leans even closer. He smells good, like decent body wash and that musky scent that rutting men seem to give off. He’s ready to fuck, but I can’t do it at work again. It’s not professional. Ha, who am I fooling, I stubbornly want to leave that memory for Hush. “We all heard about him ditching though, you and the band. That was low, you deserve better.”

  I’m inclined to agree with him, but his swagger is a little too player to make me think he could be the one to give it to me. I could go for a slight improvement, though, kill a little time before I find better. I lean forward half an inch, maybe a full one, and he pounces. He puts his arms around me and draws me in, tilts my face up with a finger and kisses me. It’s a genuinely sweet kiss; it almost makes my eyes tear up with its sincerity. Maybe I have him pegged wrong, maybe he really does like me.

  His hands move down my back and grab my ass. There we are, there’s the player. I know he’s thinking about Hush pounding into me, matching his rhythm, tearing me apart. And I know he wants to get there, to slide his own cock head past my tight ring and split me open, filling me with his cum as we grunt like mindless animals.

  I consider it, I really do. I want to have somebody feel me, run their hands over my body and make me forget about Hush.

  If only it were that easy.

  I pull back a little and break our kiss. I smile up at him and say, “That was nice.”

  “Yeah, it was,” he says and leans down to embrace me. Over his shoulder, in the light of a streetlamp, I swear I see him.

  I pull away from Rev and run to the front of the store. It’s him, it’s got to be, but it doesn’t look like him, not really. I recognize the stride, those long confident footsteps that always excited me to the edge of desire just thinking about him walking towards my bed. This version of him doesn’t have a spiked mohawk sticking proudly ten inches off the top of his head, it doesn’t have a leather jacket covered in chains, or plaid skinny jeans, or knee high boots. This version has the hair slicked back into a tight ponytail, is wearing a preppy jacket and what looks like suit pants and leather loafers. I open the door and yell at him down the street. “Hush,” I call, “come back…” but he turns the corner and is gone.

  Back inside Rev’s eyes show me that he knows I’m not over Hush.

  “I’m sorry, I thought-” I start to apologize for being a fucking heartsick idiot, but he cuts me off.

  “Like I said before, call me when you’re over him,” he tells me, running his fingers through my shaggy hair. “Don’t wait too long. Don’t wait for him, ok?”

  I promise him I won’t and we spend another hour or so shooting the shit and talking about his studio work. He’s recording an album and the excitement in his voice inspires me to share my own news.

  I’m going to university in the Fall. Now I just have to break it to Eva.

  Chapter Ten

  New Beginnings Fucking Suck

  This is hard. I’m scared as hell and don’t know what to wear. How do I pick something that says, ‘hey I belong here, I’m not some old washed up punk ass bitch crashing your happy little party’. Fuck it, I gotta wear what feels comfortable, and today comfortable is a pair of skinny jeans, faded and ripped, with black lace tights underneath. Thrown over top is my favourite Revolting Cocks tee, it’s a little threadbare, but it gives me confidence. I know, not punk, but I’m not a one trick pony, I can branch out when need be. And who doesn’t love Beers, Steers and Queers? I mean, come on, it’s one of the best fuck songs this side of the Pacific. The beat, the lyrics, makes me want to grind my snatch against somebody’s leg until I gush.

  I grab my backpack...fucking backpack, it’s like I’m living somebody else’s life. I’m not the kind of girl who carries a backpack. It brings me a little pride though, and after taking my GED and passing with a near perfect score, I feel like I need to let my geek flag fly.

  I take
the bus to the Skytrain and head out to Douglas College, in New Westminster. Back to my old stomping ground so to speak. I don’t know if my mom lives out here anymore, but even if she does, I doubt she’s anywhere in the vicinity of the college. She’s also like a sagging, middle aged, alcoholic vampire; she doesn’t do well in the light of day.

  Almost three months have passed since Hush walked out on me. I thought I saw him a couple more times, but never could catch up with the mysterious loafer wearing figure on Granville Street, so I don’t know. I like to think it’s him, and he misses me as much as I miss him, but even if it is…why the fuck doesn’t he call?

  Eva just about fell off her chair when I told her I was going to school, I seriously thought I’d killed her, but she got over it. She’s been so damn mopey since the break up, and I honestly don’t know how to shake her out of it. She’s tried to get me to go out a few times, but much to my surprise, it’s not that appealing anymore. I don’t want to admit I’m finally growing the fuck up or anything, but I want to take things seriously now. I’ll be twenty-three in a few months and the thought of blinking and being ten years older without ever having tried to live my dreams terrifies me. So here I am, thinking I’m people, getting my learning on.

  My first class is English. I think I’m a shoe in, I speak English really well. Yeah, the lady in the registrar’s office didn’t think it was funny either. I’m just trying a few subjects out, but somehow I think I’d like Sociology or History. I don’t know what the fuck I’ll do with a Bachelor’s degree in either, but at the very least I’ll be able to feel superior when I hand you your burger order.

  After that, it’s Sociology. Tomorrow I have three classes, Biology, Math and a Creative Writing course. I’m taking the full course load, Jag’s letting me work on the weekends and I have enough saved up to pay for the term without taking out loans. I know I’m better off than most people my age, in terms of money, but I still have the continual anxious gnawing in the pit of my stomach that I’ll never have enough. It comes from growing up super poor.