#I just Gotta get some sunglasses for those light sensitive bitches Why is This so hard for me

[whump-it-like-its-hot]

Me, being able to easily make phone calls without going through the script seven times beforehand: :)

Also me, vibrating with a heartrate of 120 because I have to go to the optician by myself: :(

[artificialqueens]

Ride you like my Harley - Trixya - Chapter 3 - AnnieSantaWifey

A/N - AU world inspired by the TV show Sons of Anarchy. I will be using some characters from the actual show in this and future chapters. Everything is told from Katya’s POV.

T/W - bad language, horrible pick up lines, probably grammar mistakes, mentions of drugs.

“Well, Miss Mattel, I am pretty damn sure I was promised something.”

Katya spoke as soon as they exited the tattoo shop with the biggest grin on her face, rubbing her own boobs slightly to test how much they hurt. It’s not that bad, Brenda, don’t worry. Getting shot in the shoulder was way worse. She was happy she finally got her new piercing so she would survive.

“I can’t believe you didn’t cry. They put a needle in your nipple!”

“I have had needles in other places, Tracy.” The biker replied, keeping her grin on, hoping Trixie would understand it as another one of her stupid jokes even though it was a very serious matter for Katya that she wasn’t ready to talk about with Trixie yet, if ever.

She then looked over at the now only slightly taller girl - thank you high boots - smiling as soon as she fixed her gaze on her, taking a step towards her and her smile getting wider when Trixie took a step back since she was surprised by Katya’s sudden moves.

“You.” Step. “Owe.” Another step. “Me.” Next one. “A.” One more step. “Kiss.” Last step.

The pink dressed girl was pressed against the cold wall of the tattoo shop, looking in Katya’s eyes before flicking to her lips and back onto her eyes. The biker on the other hand had her eyes fixed in the baby blues all the time.

She started to move even closer if it was even possible, pressing her hands on the wall next to Trixie’s head and she could feel her sensitive breasts pressing against the so much bigger ones that had the other girl.

The feel of Trixie’s breath against her face was driving her crazy and the big lips were too tempting to wait for the Barbie doll to make the first move.

And so she did.

Pressing her own lips against Trixie’s, leaning into her touch as soon as she felt the other girl responding, her hands linking together behind the taller girl’s neck. She felt Trixie’s hands on her back and she tugged on the pink lower lip, asking for a proper permission to enter her mouth that tasted like strawberries and redbull. What a combination.

As soon as she got her permission and her tongue found Trixie’s, there was a mixture of sweet and harsh tastes as strawberries and redbull met cigarettes and coffee.

They both lost track of time as their mouths found their own rhythm, sweet noises escaping Trixie’s mouth that were a song to Katya’s ears. The biker was sure they would stand there for hours if they weren’t interupted by wolf whistles coming from the across the road.

Katya pulled away, finally opening her eyes and the view she got almost made her take Trixie right there. Half-hooded looking eyes, swollen lips that were still slightly open and blush spreading all across her cheeks. God what a view. Take a picture right now, Brenda.

She then turned around, taking a step back from Trixie to give both her and her now very painful breasts a break, noticing Milk and Adore standing across the street.

“Fuck off!” She called out at them, rolling her eyes as she gave them the middle finger, shaking her head with a chuckle as she watched them ride away before she could throw something at them.

Seeing Trixie move in the corner of eyes, she turned back, watching the other girl fix her clothes and the biker ran her fingers through her own hair, licking her lips when she remembered the sweet taste of Trixie’s lips against her own.

“Took your breath away?” She wiggled her eyebrows at the Barbie doll.

“In your dreams.”

“I take your breathe away in my dreams by a different way, принцесса.” The biker answered jokingly even though she was deadly serious.

“You strangle me because I get too tired of your stupid jokes?”

“Wow, Tracy. You sure know how to break a poor girl’s heart.” She put on her dramatic voice again, only stopping when she felt Trixie’s hands poking her sides, comfortable laughter finding them again.

“You know, princess.” She started talking again after a while of silence. “We can try a Russion version. It’s almost the same as a French kiss but lower.” Katya finished with a wink, yelping a second after when Trixie poked her in her very painful breasts.

“Rotted Gila monster!”

——

Two days later Katya was parking her bike in front of Wendy’s coffee shop, hopping down from the lover of her life, almost leaning down to give her beloved Harley a kiss before she realized there are actually people around her and so she quickly stood up, taking her sunglasses off and hanging them onto her shirt.

She responded to a greeting from a person that she couldn’t remember the name of even if her life depended on it, continuing her walk to the shop when she spotted the owner, Wendy, standing in front of the door, talking angrily to two guys that looked very much like assholes.

Ah, Brenda, I told you it’s been too peaceful lately.

“Hello, gentleman, do we have a problem here?” She called out as soon as she was close enough, smacking her hands onto their shoulders, making them move a bit futher away from Wendy. Taking a step forward so she was now standing next to the other woman, turning her attention to the now even more angry looking men.

She pulled out a cigarette, placing it between her lips as she raised her eyebrows at the both of them before nodding to Wendy who waved her hand, slightly nodding to the angrier looking man but only Katya noticed that she did.

Oh. Oh. Wendy’s ‘date’ from months ago that kept bothering her. Oh, this is going to be fun.

“Pete can’t apparently understand that I have zero interest in him and that he needs to stop bothering me or I am going to call the police.”

Damn, Wendy, get it girl.

“There is no need for that, right, gentleman?” Katya then spoke, finally lighting her cigarette, placing the lighter back into her pocket. “Because you, assholes, are going to turn around and leave before something not very pleasant for you will happen.” She continued seriously, ignoring Wendy tugging onto her hand.

If the guys had any brains at all, they should just turn around and leave. You do not mess with a Rumigo girl or with her family.

Katya could see that the smaller and obviously smarter of the two took a step back but the asshole that kept bothering Wendy after she rejected him kept on standing exactly at the same spot.

Anger was slowly rising inside of her. If there was something she couldn’t stand it was assholes who thought they can bother girls or harass them. It was even worse when the harassed person was someone close to her heart.

“And I need you both to apologize to my dear friend Wendy here for your behaviour today.” She then added, anger showing in her eyes but her lips were formed into a shit eating grin that screamed ‘Do not fuck with me’. The blonde then brought her cigarette to her lips, taking another drag of it.

“You gotta be kidding me, bitch!”

Those words only added to Katya’s anger as she took the cigarette between her fingers, blowing the smoke into his face before her elbow met his cheek in the hardest way it could, making the guy fall down right to her feet. She then turned over to his smarter friend, the smile never leaving her face.

“Do you think I am kidding?”

The guy only shook his head as he grabbed his dear friend by his shoulders, muttering 'I am sorry’ and making the asshole say the same by a punch into the shoulder. He then dragged him away along with him while Katya stood there, watching them as she finished her cigarette with Wendy still standing next to her, now quietly chuckling.

“Thank you, Katya.”

“Anytime, love. That was the guy that thought you are on a date when you didn’t have a single interest in him, right?”

“Yeah. This is the second time this happened. The first time Raja saw him and almost cut his balls off. I don’t think he will be going back after this.”

“Good. He better not. Or I am going to cut his balls off myself.”

“I can’t believe you guys are so protective of me.”

“Always. You are the mother of my nephew after all. I am not letting anyone lay a finger on you.”

“You know, I think you are even more scarier than your brother.”

“Well, thank you for noticing. I am trying my best here.”

They both laughed as Katya wrapped her arms around her, picking her up from the ground and carrying her to the shop with her.

——

To: Princess

I just had the best coffee in my life but nothing is better than the taste of your lips.

She sent the text, quickly putting her phone away right after to give Wendy her full atention. She was telling her about her nephew Abel and with this topic, Katya didn’t have to pretend she is interested because she truly was. Plus, she hasn’t seen Wendy or Abel in a long time now and she felt really bad about it.

When she was finally in her room, an hour later, she picked her phone again, frowning slightly when there was still no answer from Trixie.

To: Princess

Can you die from a lack of attention?

From: Princess

Do you want to come over tonight?

To: Princess

Wow, Ангел. You should ignore me more often if it means a sleepover every single time.

From: Princess

I am sorry, I was busy but I can make it up to you. By only two words!

To: Princess

Lesbian sex?

From: Princess

Chocolate cookies.

To: Princess

Oh, you sure know how to make a girl swoon over you, Tracy.

——

Fuck, Brenda, I can’t believe I decided to leave my jacket at home. I feel naked. I am naked. I can’t live without my jacket. Why do you keep letting me fuck up? You are seriously no help.

The biker was just about to leave so she can go get her jacket but suddenly the door opened and the beautiful Barbie doll was standing right there.

“Leaving so soon?” She watched her chuckle and lean against the doorframe.

“Hi, babygirl.” Katya was quick to make her way back to the other girl, the thoughts of leaving disappearing after seeing her smile.

“I have a shirt that says babygirl.”

A smirk found its way onto Katya’s face after hearing that statement. “Wear it.”

Raised eyebrow and a chuckle was the response she got. “Please.” She then added before leaning in to place a kiss on the lips she could still feel on her own from the first time they kissed.

“Okay.” The Barbie said as she pulled Katya inside.

——

Katya dropped her backpack on the floor next to the couch before settling herself down on it. “So I know you never exactly said sleepover but I brought stuff anyway. Even though I am hoping I won’t need any clothes.” She spoke as she looked around the living room, frowning slightly when she couldn’t find Trixie anywhere. The fuck?

But then she came out of what Katya assumed was a bedroom with a shirt that said 'Babygirl’. Oh.

Kill me, Brenda. Before this nymph does.

“We can do a sleepover. I kind of meant a sleepover anyway, to be honest.” The Barbie spoke as she made her way to Katya who pulled her down onto the couch next to her as soon as she was close enough.

“Look at you. One kiss and you already want me all to yourself. And I am perfectly okay with that.” She winked at the girl, pulling her into her arms and smiling widely when she felt Trixie’s arms wrap around her.

What the fuck am I doing, Brenda? I don’t do cuddling. I do fucking.

But when Trixie pulled herself closer, putting her head on Katya’s shoulder and throwing her leg over the biker’s, she forgot about all her thoughts and just leaned into the touch, enjoying the feeling of another body pressed against her own.

She pressed a kiss into Trixie’s hair. “You smell good.”

Jesus, shut the fuck up, Yekaterina.

Trixie’s answer was a giggle and Katya watched her rest on elbows so she was on the same face level like the biker herself. “Thank you.” The Barbie then whispered, seeming slightly surprised about the fact that her own voice came out like that.

“You are welcome.” Katya answered with a whisper herself before she brought a hand to touch Trixie’s cheek, resting her other hand on the girl’s back as she finally leaned in for a proper kiss.

Their tongues found their own rhytm again but this time, there was no one watching them, no one interupting them.

The kiss got more heated by every second and they both needed to breathe, that was why Katya pulled back a bit only to continue her kisses down her jaw, jawline, ending on her neck.

Her lips explored the soft neck of the girl in her arms that only let out sweet noises as answers. And Katya found herself leaving love bites all over Trixie’s neck, enjoying the soft skin and the heartbeat that she could feel under her own lips, smiling into the Barbie’s neck at the fact that her heartbeat was getting faster.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You don’t leave hickeys. You don’t leave marks. You don’t leave tracks. No evidence. No proof you have been with the person. Fuck.

She blinked, pulling away a little bit just so she could look at Trixie’s neck, immediately noticing the two biggest love bites on the girl’s neck.

Katya knew it wasn’t a big deal, hickeys. But for her it was. She never left them on the person she has been with. She usually didn’t even know shit about the other person and she sure as hell didn’t want any boyfriends or girlfriends behind her ass. It was easy. No marks. No proof.

But the longer she stared at the hickeys she just left on Trixie’s neck, the more it just felt right. She was marking her as if she was the only one that could do this to the other girl. And she wanted that.

And I shouldn’t. Fuck.

The biker then slowly sat up, pushing all her confused thoughts and feelings in the back of her head, placing a kiss onto Trixie’s forehead before standing up and stretching her back.

“Would her highness mind telling me where the bathroom is?”

—— “Katya!” The owner of the name jumped up as she heard Trixie’s voice, an angry sounding voice.

“..Yeah?” She asked as she closed the door of the bathroom, making her way back to the living room where Trixie was sitting with a small mirror in her hands, looking at the new creations that Katya left on her. Oh.

“You like?” She asked smugly, leaning behind the other girl as she wrapped her arms around her from behind, the couch being the only thing between them.

“I am going to get so much shit from Kim and the others as soon as they see this.” The Barbie doll sighed but her eyes told Katya that she wasn’t even properly mad.

“Put some patches on it?”

A slight punch in her breast was the answer that she got and she hissed since her nipples were still pretty sensitive.

“Still hurts, huh?” Trixie said, the smirk that was so often placed on Katya’s face could now be found on the Barbie’s.

“This is bullying. Mom. Save me.” The biker pouted at the other girl before jumping over the couch to grab the plate of chocolate cookies she was promised earlier.

She hummed in pleasure as soon as she took a bite, noticing Trixie’s wide smile. “Did you make those?”

“Yeah, I did. Tastes good?”

The blonde nodded quickly, smiling widely as she took another bite, looking more like her nephew Abel right now than she wanted.

“Did I ever tell you that your eyes are beautiful?”

“If you want to sleep with me all you need to do is ask, Barbie.”

A pillow was thrown her way and it only brought a chuckle to Katya’s lips. She finished her cookie, reaching for another one straight away.

“Can I do your make up?”

“Can you do the fuck now?”

“Your make up! Your eyes are really nice and you have a good bone structure. I think if I put blue eyeshadow on you it would look so good. Or maybe some gold. Oh, wait! Blue eyeshadow and pink lipstick, yes!”

Katya didn’t even have a chance to say anything before Trixie was already almost running to her room to grab her make up.

She wants me dead. She wants to kill me, Brenda. Help. Call 911.

She guessed she was making a disgusted face since Trixie stopped in the middle of her movements of grabbing some make up brushes.

“Can I?” She could hear the Barbie doll ask and fuck, she is so cute. How can I say no? Ugh.

“Yeah, yeah, fine. It will be your fault when I am prettier than you.”

And that was how she found herself sitting on the floor, being painted by the other girl. But her adorable focused expression and soft smile was worth it.

——

After Trixie did Katya’s make up and Katya finished eating all of the cookies, they watched some movie that the biker girl forgot the name of since she was watching Trixie anyway all the time. They were curled up together through the whole evening, cuddling and kissing, giggling and talking about the most random things on Earth.

Hours with the Barbie felt like minutes and before they knew it, it was two in the morning and Trixie was dragging Katya off the couch even after her protests.

“No, let me dieee.” The blonde groaned not wanting to get up from the comfortable sofa.

“I am not letting you sleep on the couch when my bed is big enough for three cows.”

“Are you calling me a cow, Tracy?”

“Now I am imagining you sucking on an udder.”

Katya’s crazy laughter filled the room as she wrapped her arms around the Barbie doll, skipping with her to the bedroom, looking around as soon as she was inside and noticing a guitar immediately.

“I didn’t know you can play a guitar.”

“Oh, yeah. I can. I wanted to find a hobby and I have always wanted to play an instrument so I just got one when I was about thirteen.”

“Play me something? Please.”

She could see hesitation all around Trixie’s face. “Pretty please.” She asked one more time, jumping onto the bed as she watched Trixie pick up the guitar and sit right opposite her.

Through the whole time Trixie was playing the guitar and singing, Katya was watching her like she was the only thing that mattered in the whole universe without even knowing so. Of course that Trixie saw the look on her face and for a moment Katya could see the same look on the other girl’s face as well.

It just feels right, Brenda. It feels right.

—— “It was beautiful. You are.” Katya said when Trixie finished her song, not even caring that she didn’t use a stupid pick up line as a compliment, just a simple one that meant so much more than the other ones she gave away so easily.

“Thank you.” She found the other girl blushing and it made her order Brenda to remind her that she needs to tell Trixie that she is beautiful more often.

“Wait, when did you manage to change into your PJ’s? I wanted to watch!”

Katya then called out when she properly looked at Trixie once again.

“When you were stuffing your mouth with cookies like two hours ago.”

“Well, damn. But it’s really selfish, Tracy, you know? You’re going to have that body for the rest of your life and I just want it for one night.”

“Shut up and go change! Or if you are going to sleep in those dirty pants? No, wait, you are not. This is my bed. Change, dirty cow.”

Katya faked a dramatic gasp once again as she throwed a pillow at Trixie before breaking into laughter and jumping off the bed, she made her way back to the living room to grab her bag before going right back, throwing a face of disgust Trixie’s way for making her walk that far.

She then opened the bag, grabbing the shorts and an oversized shirt she brought along with her. Trixie should feel lucky because Katya usually slept naked or only in her underwear but she figured unless her and Trixie ended up sleeping together tonight, the other girl would probably prefer her having some actual clothes to sleep in.

The biker then threw the hoodie she had on over her head, taking her top along with it as well before moving down onto her pants, a yelp interupted her and she looked over at Trixie who was watching her. “Private show, princess. Enjoy it.”

She said as she slowly undid her pants, dragging them down to her ankles before taking them off completely. Now only standing there in her black underwear. She then started walking towards Trixie who was watching her every moment with darker eyes than usual, leaning down to her level only to give her the smallest kiss that she could like the right tease she was before pulling away completely and changing into the shirt she brought with her, adding the shorts quickly.

When she was dressed she jumped into the bed next to Trixie, grabbing the blanket as she did so and pulling it over them. She gave the beautiful girl laying next to her a smile before she leaned in now for a proper kiss, their bodies tangling into each other’s once again.

“Goodnight, Katya.”

“Goodnight, babygirl.”

[the-voice-of-hell]

Rent is Theft, part 13

Unlucky number 13!  This is as far as I’ve gotten the story (aside from a little outlining and writing ahead), so it may be a while before more updates come in.

Read from the beginning here, read the previous chapter here.

Note:  My MC is a Filipina trans woman and I am not.  If you have notes on that or anything else, hit me up.

                                                        ***

     I needed to be alone, but it wasn’t in the cards.  When the elevator door opened on my floor, a single eyeball rolled in from the hall.  I freaked out badly, jamming the door open with both arms, scooting the thing toward the crack between elevator and floor.

     The big metal box tensed.  It wanted to close the doors, was pushing back.  I hopped and came down on the thing with more force, popping it into the crack, the elevator shaft, and who knows where?  I shuddered at the disgusting experience, crashed against the elevator door, let it shove me until I slipped out into the hall and fell down.

     Leimomi’s voice.  “Are you OK?”

     “Nope.  I’m not.  Don’t worry about it.”  I avoided her eyes, but looked all over the carpet before I stood up - looking for more of those eyes.  Nothing in sight except Momi feet, I clambered to my feet.

     “Are you sure?”  She wasn’t moving.

     “I need to do this thing.”  Did I?  I didn’t want to.  “Just...”  I made it clear I needed to get into my place and she got out of the way.  I opened and closed the door in a hurry, headed toward the living room.

     That’s when I heard, “Ow! Oh!” from out in the hallway.

     I dragged myself back to the door in a hurry and opened it.  She practically stumbled into me.  “What the hell, Momi?”

     “My hair was caught in the door.”  She looked too sad.

     I couldn’t take it, not anything.  “Just step back.  Further.”  I closed the door on her and went to the living room.

     I connected my phone to the wifi and looked it up. Courtney Love racist.  The ugly words came back.  Stereotypes.  Shitting on black people to their faces.  Trying to get her audience to chant the N word like a fucking Klan rally.  “GOD!,” I said, “Why do you have to be such a creepy fucking BITCH?”  Ugly words of my own.  She made me do it, I thought, but then, that’s what lots of misogynists say, isn’t it?

     Fuck absolutely everything.  I felt like my own skin had betrayed me.  I should never have named myself after someone.  What a fool.  I grabbed my hair, grabbed my back, thrashed around on the couch.  The world was pure evil and I wanted to scratch myself, pull myself, drag myself out of it.

     I stopped my thrashing and curled there, face down, balled fists pushing into my eye sockets.  I could see stars wriggling vermiform in the darkness.  You creepy old lady.  And who am I?  A creepy old lady.  Was there some nasty prejudice I was sitting on, waiting to come out?  What was I really like when drunk?  What was anybody capable of?  What are courtneys specifically capable of, since that’s what I was?  A self-made courtney.  The thing I chose to be.

     I finally got the will to stand up, remembering I still had a few posters left among the debris, posters that needed defacing.  I kicked the couch over and punched myself in the forehead three times before marching to the bedroom.

     In the bedroom I looked around.  First one.  Back wall.  Posed to look like a big victim.  Maybe she was.  Fuck her anyways.  I ripped it down and tore it up in my hands.  I accidentally scratched myself up with fingernails and rings, but I didn’t care.

     Another one.  Fancy lady, got some work done.  Ain’t you a queen?  I ripped the poster down.  Half of it clung to the wall and I snatched that two, then ripped it up.  I felt stings where the scratches on my hands were being rubbed the wrong way.  Didn’t care.

     One left.  One surviving courtney, up on the ceiling.  I glared at her.  “How could you?!  What is wrong with you?”  I jumped, trying to catch the edge of it with my fingers, rip it down without need for a step stool.  No contact.  I tried again.  I am not going through the effort of getting a ladder for this bullshit.  I nicked the edge, but she was up there safe, smug.

     Was that look smug?  Or vacant?  What was behind those eyes?  Anything at all?  For years she’d been acting like some kind of mindless, twisted animal.  I avoided the rumors but they kept coming at me, adding up.  She was a terrible person.

     I gave up, and kicked over my sleeping couch in frustration.  I kicked it again and again.

     At last I went back into the living room.  The little whistle was there to greet me, blowing through my ghost.  I flopped on the hard floor and crawled under the upended couch.  It’s a home for turtles.  That’s what was next for me.  Turtledom.

     There was a knock at the door.  Go away.  I’m just a corpse.  It persisted, in nervous little passes.

     At last I heaved myself up to feet, shoved the couch off of me.  It clattered loudly, landing upright and gouging a couple of thick chunks out of the wall.  I answered the door.

     It was Momi.  “Courtney, what’s going on?  I know you said… I know you don’t wanna say, but...”

     I held up a hand to quiet her.  “I still don’t.  Bad time.  I should be--”

     “Why are you bleeding?”

     I looked at my hand.  The scratches were worse than I’d thought.  The skin was ragged around them, blood thick and red all over them, brighter where it had smeared over the rest of my hand.

     Then I looked past the hand at the Hawaiian lady.  She was looking at me in shock and sadness, tears welling in her eyes.  I put my hands behind my back in shame.  “It was just a silly accident, hon.  I’ll be fine, I’ll be OK, don’t worry.”

     “Really?”  Her voice cracked and she fanned herself.  What an odd, cute gesture.  She was so miserable though, it was getting to me.

     I pushed the door farther shut with my shoulders, just my head poking out.  The apartment was my turtle shell.  “Really.  Hon, this thing that’s got me just now?  It’ll pass.  Don’t worry about it.”  Sometimes I try to regulate my expression.  This time I knew I didn’t have to.  I could feel my face melting into sad, kind warmth.

     It seemed to work.  She laughed at her emotional display nervously and stepped back, wiping her face.  “Ah, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I’m weird.”

     It’s time.  I knew it was.  It felt weird doing this as a floating severed head, but there couldn’t be a better time.  “You aren’t weird.  Listen, there is something you can help me with.”

     “You need help with your hands?”

     “No.”  I looked both ways.  Hall empty.  “I need you in my life.  I sorted out my shit.  I haven’t touched that dude and I never will again.  I don’t know what I was thinking, I just gotta take it back, anything I did.  If I can.  If you will.  I think I love you, Momi.”

     She straightened up, a little taller than me, and looked like someone had punched her in the chest.  Breathless.  Her lips did a mad little dance.  Her eyes looked like they were about to cry, then didn’t.

     “I don’t think I love you.  I do love you.”  My head was threatening to turn upside down like something from the exorcist as it strained to look pleading without the benefit of any other body language.  “It’s fine if you don’t.  I’ll try to--”

     She folded her arms angrily and looked down at me.  “I love you too, but this is too much.  I can’t do stuff right now.”  She looked away.

     “Wait.  Right now?  Like, we can do stuff some other time?  Like, a week?  A month?  A year?”

     “Mmm… A week.  Maybe.  Let’s see how we feel in a week, OK?”  She could barely bring herself to look at me, then she left me hanging there, and disappeared into her apartment.

     I retreated into my turtle house and resisted the urge to do a crazy dance.  I staggered out to the living room again and flopped in a chair.  “What did I do to myself?”  I couldn’t resist crazy dance time anymore.

     I twisted out of the chair and flopped onto the floor, rolling one way and then the other, squealing like a child.  I stopped, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, and slammed my head on the floor.  Stars again.  I had nearly knocked myself out.

     I was finally still, relaxing after my ridiculous scene.  My hands stung.  My head hurt kind of badly.  That’s no way to give yourself a concussion.  I went to take a bath.  Hopefully, no passing out and drowning would happen.  I had something to look forward to in a week.

                                                        ***

     There was definitely a welt across the back of my head.  I could feel it out with my fingers.  Maybe an inch below the crown, a smooth scar almost like a burn, sensitive like a bruise.  It was remarkably straight - a horizontal line like a cut.  At least the oddness of it held at bay any worries I had about getting a bald spot.

     The next day I set to work in my apartment, getting the scraps off the walls, picking up the collapsed things on floors.  I took down ceiling Courtney with more dignity than I could muster the previous day.  Who was to say how I’d feel about the racist asshole in a week?  She was rolled and tucked away.

     But as the maneuvers went on, I started to accrue a list of missing requisites.  I didn’t have enough household cleaners, I needed something to fill the gouges on the wall.  I wanted more allergy meds to wax into my living room, see if I could stop the whistle once and for all.

     So at about two in the afternoon, I showered up and dressed summery for an outdoor jaunt.  I had a dress and a large summer hat with a floppy brim.  Contact lenses let me rock giant black sunglasses that would shine in the sun.  Violet red lipstick.  Smack my lips.  Time to go.

     Out in the hall, Methadone Mike was using a bristle broom to grind powdered allergy medicine into the carpet.  He looked green.  I took off the shades and hung them in the front of my dress.  He still looked olive green.  Jaundice pairing weirdly with his sun-abused skin?  Bad lighting?  I still smiled at the green man and went about my way.

     At the elevator I pushed the call button.  It instantly opened up.  Sharon.

     “Sharon!  Hiii, Maria, remember me?”  I walked in like a queen, arms in the air.

     She was looking past me to Methadone Mike.  “Mm, yeah, what’s that?  We didn’t have a cleaner up he--”

     “He just wanted to clean up after himself, spilled a trashbag.  G’byee!” She was trying to hold the door but I hedged her out by waving at Mike like a theater kid.  The door sealed us in, and we went up.

     “Maria, what’s going on?  You seem jumpy today.”  She looked suspicious for sure.

     I just couldn’t care.  No way you get the juice to figure this out, lady.  And if you did?  I smiled maniacally.  “Maybe it’s just the weather.  A chance to wear this dress?  I’m pumped up and I don’t even know why.”

     Her mouth shrank to a pin prick, her eyelids lowered, her eyebrows tried to jump up into her hairline.  She opened her mouth to say something, and the elevator reached her floor.

     “See ya ’round, Sharon!”

     I was rid of her, I had a week until Momi time, and I was bouncing.  Then a random pain in the back of my head snapped me to reality.  I realized there’d been a buzzing sensation in my head that had just gone mute, that there was a strange feeling at the back of my head which ended with that twinge.

     What was it?  I touched the back of my head.  Pain like a bruise.  Then the elevator popped open on twelve.  The programming on those things left something to be desired.  I looked around to see if Methadone Mike was still around, but he wasn’t.  The broom was laying in the hall and his apartment door was open.  I almost went to investigate, but thought better of it.  I had my own life to lead and that guy had plenty of experience looking out for himself.

     I wore high heel sandals and it was pretty much impossible to walk sensibly in those things.  It was strut or gangle, nothing in between.  I was strutting on the way to the store.  It was a large urban drug store, so it tried to be everything to everyone, have whatever one might need.  But it didn’t have my spackle, so I had to try a paint store.  I found one within longish walking distance on my phone, but that walk quickly turned into a gangle.

     The gangle took me back close to the apartment, but just far enough away that I had to make a decision of it.  Divert for sensible shoes, or keep walking straight.  I made the wrong decision, and the gangle grew painful.

     There it was again - a sensation on the back of my head.  I paid attention to it this time.  But in doing so, was I imagining things, or noticing things?  Was that shifting sensation something legitimately happening in the muscles or other tissues?  Or was it my imagination  I felt like the back of my head had been replaced with a plastic puzzle ball, and it was threatening to fall apart.

     There was a humming sound.  I couldn’t tell whether it was just in my head.  Sometimes it felt like I was making it happen, compulsively humming just loud enough that it couldn’t quite be heard above traffic - just felt.  Why couldn’t I stop it?  Why did it usually feel like I was even doing anything?

     Stepping through the door the omnipresent traffic noise burst like ears popping, and I could - for just a moment - hear the hum clear as a bell.  Then it was gone.  I looked around nervously until someone came in behind, forcing me out of the way.

     I timidly went about my shopping and realized I was already sad.  I had really good reason to feel happy, but it wasn’t enough.  Something was wrong with the world.  It was right on top of me.  I went to the counter to ring up my goods, and the puzzle ball shifted.  The humming began, quietly but clearly.

     “Here.”  I put my spackle and a cheap palette knife on the counter.  I smiled weakly.

     The clerk took little notice and rang it up.  “Eight dollars and eighty-six cents after tax.”

     “My card.”

     “Just swipe it on the...”

     The damned hum.

     “Thank you,” I said as I entered my PIN.

     “Thank you,” he said.

     The gangle home was taking me down restaurant row.  The tech giant I used to work for basically created a neighborhood, and the restaurants to serve it lined the main street, along with a few odd banks and such.  I’d been on this street before, looking for lunch, watching the money fly out of my account every day at the expensive places, knowing I could save a lot of money by packing lunch, never ever getting up the will to make that happen.

     It was a miserable time.  Back when I could imagine I belonged there, I came to recognize lots of random people on the street.  But more buildings had opened since then, more people had transferred or been laid off or got burned out, and the turnover had led to a completely unfamiliar street scene.

     Who were these people?  Some had a vague optimism - the new lights of the tech industry.  Most were just hustling to get from point A to point B to appease the capital fascist order of the place.  Minimize your human needs to maximize your hustle.  Install an office app on your smartphone so you can work on spreadsheets while you take shits.

     “Hey!”  I didn’t recognize them, but somebody recognized me.  I turned to face them, and the hum grew again.

     It was Grime.  He had some kind of mess on his hands, maybe sloppy eating, but he quickly tucked those things into his pockets.  Cargo shorts, yuck.  “What brings you back, Court?  Think it’s time to go legit again?”  He looked hopeful.  Going legit in a hurry was the only way the apartment situation didn’t end in shackles.

     “No, I can’t.  Just shopping.”

     He noticed my mood.  “Hey, don’t think anything of it.  There’s lots of shit you can do, or nothing at all.  You need something to eat?  You look weak.”

     “Mm, yeah, OK, but remember where we’re at.”

     “I’m the whore and you’re done with that, roger.  Get a bite in you, baby.”

     “Alright.”

     I followed him back inside.  He’d seen me passing a restaurant and come out of it - hence the surprise attack.  As he sat at the table, I saw his hands again.  The splotches were discoloration on the skin, like port-wine stain.  I didn’t know much about that condition except it usually happened at birth.  Could it develop in an adult?

     He noticed my look, waggled his fingers, and shrugged.  “Whatever.  It doesn’t hurt.”

     “That’s good to hear.  Man… I hit my head yesterday and it feels hella fucked up now.”

     “Aww, that’s terrible.  How about symptoms?  Dizziness?  Disorientation?”

     “Not those.  Just like… a buzzing.  Pain.  Weird sensations.  It’s bruised, for sure.”

     “That sucks a lot.”

     A waiter came and he had them bring a bacon and egg ciabatta sandwich and tall rum and coke for me.  He remembered what I liked from a lunch long past.

     “Thanks, Graeme.”

     “Think nothing of it, Courtney.  So talk to me.  Anything else bothering you?  Just a hard walk on those shoes?”

     “You don’t miss a thing, do you?  It’s almost creepy.”

     “Hey.  Guys like me get that word sometimes whether we deserve it or not.  Take it easy on me.  It’s cordial, associate.”

     “Cordial it is, sorry buddy.  Hooo, yeah, it’s a weird one.  I have a good reason to be in a damn good mood, but it just isn’t taking.  Maybe the head thing is the problem, maybe the inconvenience of the walk.  But I’m almost… scared for no reason?”

     “They say head injuries can cause symptoms of depression.  I wish we could figure out how to get that looked at.  Until then, maybe try not to exercise so much.  Let somebody take care of you, OK?”

     “Mm, I’d like that.”

     Maybe the feeling had receded some, because I started to feel passably well for a minute.  The drink came and I said thank you without thinking, hardly moved my lips.  My voice was uncharacteristically clear and feminine, and I half wondered if I’d even said it, or just imagined it.  Better get that drink in you quick, girl.

     “Wanna talk about anything else for a bit?  Work’s a bitch.”

     “No.  I mean yes, let’s talk about something, but not work.”

     “OK, who’s got you feeling like you should be in a good mood, Courtney?”

     “Nope.”

     “Oh, alright, sorry.”  He rolled his eyes around behind those raccoon-like glasses, looking for a subject.  “I got it.  Cordial associates on the Illegal Building Association.  Want the low down on the building?”

     I was very much not interested, but it could work to pass the time.  “Why not?  Hit me.”

     “OK, where to begin?  Sharon’s gone.”

     “Bullshit, I just saw her.”

     “She told me she’s leaving.  I guess she isn’t out the door yet?”

     “Let’s just hope she doesn’t get any more snoopy at the last minute.”

     “Let’s.  She seemed pretty sharp, so tentatively, I think her leaving is good news.”

     “Good news.”

     “OK, that wasn’t very interesting.  Oh, we might have a problem down the road.  You know how all the buildings in Seattle just started getting bedbugs again a few years ago?  Neighbor on thirteen says she feels itchy all the time.  She blames allergies, thinks there’s a problem with the building’s AC, but she knows bedbugs are a possibility.”

     “Did you say thirteen?”

     “Yeah, so if it’s bedbugs, they don’t have far to go.”

     “Yeah, but that isn’t what gets me.  I didn’t know we had any upstairs neighbors.  A few floors up, maybe.  But I thought for sure thirteen was empty.”

     “Maybe you were wrong, maybe she moved in more recently than all that.  Her name is Laura.  Think you’ve seen her?  Maybe walking the Pomeranian?”

     “Thankfully, no.  I have not.”

     I couldn’t bring myself to eat the thick bread at the moment, and kinda sucked the egg out of the sandwich absentmindedly.  Fortunately, Grime didn’t make any off color jokes about it.

     He said, “That’s cool, but she’s one to watch out for.  She doesn’t work at all, so she’s around a lot.”

     “What does she look like?”

     “Like money and talcum powder had a baby that grew up to be a mummy.”

     “Marvy.”

                                                        ***

     Read next chapter here.