Winner’s Curse Ch. 19
Well this came as surprise to me. Literally, the whole idea came to me before I was going to bed so I wrote it the next morning, and here we are. Features some Aladdin quotes, see if you can spot them. Enjoy!
“And then Icarus, what a guy, he is so convincing as Hades, Pain and Panic start following him!” Calix hooted.
“No way, man that didn’t actually happen.” Jay challenged Calix’s story.
“No, no I’ve heard Icarus’ Hades impression, he’s good.” Aziz confirmed, “Hey, remember Icarus’ Hades impression after three drinks at Dionysus’ bacchanal?”
Calix gulped back the drink Circe had left in their shared room and where he, Aziz, and Jay were passing the time sharing stories while waiting around for Uma and Jordan’s arrival.
It had been a pretty placid three days since Jordan reversed Jay’s hypnosis for Malik’s last wish. At first there was a panic when they realized how suspicious it would be if Jay was no longer under Jafar’s thrall but they fixed that with Jordan giving him glowing red contacts. Allowing them to have another infiltrator at the Coven meetings besides Jade, Calix and Uma.
The door opened and Jordan slipped into the room, gingerly cradling her lamp in her hands. But no Uma behind her.
These three placid days had driven Uma to distraction since they were laying around on their asses and not doing anything so she arranged for this new meeting so they’d find something else to do besides eavesdrop for news of what was happening at next week’s Summer Solstice.
But even though this meeting was so important that she felt the need to threaten them with slow, graphic strangulation with her tentacles while Harry used his hook to disembowel him, apparently their leader was late.
“Where’s Jade?” Calix asked, throwing back another shot. It was a fair question since Jordan’s lamp was still technically under Jade’s possession. Or so the Coven thought.
“Showing makeup techniques to Lala and Malik.” Jordan answered.
“Oh right, Lala mentioned that to me this morning.” Aziz warily eyed the fifth shot Calix gulped down.
“Oh, she did? You talk about things other than the plan?” Jordan smoothly slid between him and Calix, her voice was suspiciously too nonchalant.
“Yeah, conversations spawn into different topics. That’s what happens when two people hang out with each other.” Aziz said a little testily with how Jordan was scanning his face like she was searching for some secret that he’d be careless enough to slip.
“Oh you and Lala hanging out together.” Jordan pursed her lips lightly, sounding way too similar to a disapproving aunt, “Can we have a private conversation in my lamp.”
Before Aziz could suss out whatever she was trying to pull and where this was coming from, Jordan had transported them into her lamp.
“Do you have a crush on Lala?” She blurted out accusingly.
Aziz decided to go for a joke, “I-I don’t know about me crushing her, bu-but I can’t blame her if the reverse is true. I mean, look at me.”
Jordan stared with an unamused raised eyebrow.
“Aziz, I know you.” She started, as if that explained why she was so sure she found the romance of the century after two innocent sentences, “I've seen you go through this before. You’re just hanging out with a girl but then you start talking about every topic under the sun. And then you get a crush and you’re all like “She's smart and fun, she’s got these eyes that just...and her hair wow! And her smile!”
“Then you go on a date that doesn’t really go anywhere for whatever reason and get pushed aside. Remember, Lonnie, and Ruby, and Alexandria and Alfonsa, and Arabella, and her twin sisters, woah! Now that I list them out, you date a lot of Triton’s granddaughters.”
“What is your point? What does that have to do with me and Lala? Not that there is anything happening.” Aziz felt himself gulping back the nervousness that he knew exactly what she was talking about even as he denied it.
“Oh please, you’re half smiling while you say her name!”
“I’m not!” Aziz unmanly squawked and cleared his throat into a deeper contralto, “I do not.”
“My point is it’s one thing to date an Ak. You get your heart broken. But a Vk? She’ll try to steal your throne and break your heart.” Jordan said.
“Steals your throne and breaks your heart. Sounds the title of a sex tape. Do you want dibs or can I have it?” Aziz took a shot in the dark to try joking his way out of this again.
“Now is not the time to joke about the title of our sex tapes. This is serious!”
“You’re still hung up on, “Can your friend do this?” It’s a bit obvious.” Aziz pointed out.
“Oh, you wanted to call your first sex tape, “A whole new world,” like that’s original.” Jordan shot back.
“And the “Welcome to the Cave of Wonders” piece you did with Calix was a unique one?” Aziz retorted.
“For your information, I couldn’t choose any title but that because.. wait wait wait? Now is not the time.”
“Aziz Ali iban Aladdin, explain yourself right now.” Jordan crossed her arms.
“Jordan, we’ve been over this. You’re not my mom.” Aziz huffed at the use of his full name.
“You’re right, I’m not. Your mom doesn’t know about what happened in Odiferous during spring break. Now I have a phone and I have video. So tell me about your feelings for Lala.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions.” Aziz said exasperatedly which was no use since she was ignoring anything that came out of his mouth.
“When did you first feel something more?” Jordan demanded.
“Rarw. Rrrawr. Meow? Are you understanding me at all?” Aziz asked the stony faced leopard man.
Aziz had to admit some of his attempts to talk to the leopard-men was out of boredom. He was starting to get a bit stir crazy being stuck in the castle all day pretending to be Jade or Lala’s slave boy. He could understand why Uncle Genie hated being in the lamp. It was so boring, having to wait for permission to do things and the things you were allowed to do was stuck inside. No running around the corridors and flipping off roofs with wind rushing through your hair or the pit in your stomach when you almost break your neck.
He missed it.
And although Lala was pretty focused in studying the Atlantean texts her mother laid out for her, even she seemed to be getting bored because at random moments, she would angrily shut her book and demand to hear Aziz talk about Agrabah.
He had to admit that if he had a choice, he’d rather be with Jordan and the others trying to make a plan to escape or at least go outside. Talking about Agrabah was getting to be the highlight of his day.
He had started with daring adventure stories about the things his parents used to get into before the Great Uniting like when they had to fight a landshark or the time his dad literally lost his head to the decapitated wizard, Caliph Kapok, and they had to get body and head back together again. He had lots of those stories, Genie often said they could create their own tv series, possibly an animated one for kids to enjoy.
And then, upon Lala’s numerous aside questions, he started describing Agrabah with its alluring spices, chests of gold and diverse and eccentric cast of merchants and travelers that lived in the Seven Deserts. He described the bad like the previous-rampant poverty that seemed similar to the Isle albeit with more head chopping from fellow humans than from a bitter decapitated wizard. It was embarrassing but one time he looked at the ornate diamond-encrusted sand-dial and saw that he had passed over an hour talking about his home. He hadn’t meant to but it just came out. He loved his home so much and describing it felt like he was back there on the dunes for a little while.
He had never talked to anyone about his home before. Jordan already knew what it was like obviously, and no one at Auradon Prep cared beyond the merchandise they could buy at the kazbah. It was so much more than that to him. Living there was an experience, an adventure. You never knew where the smell of spices could lead you or what the secret nooks and crannies would reveal.
The thing was Lala seemed just as enthralled with the place as he was. Usually when he discussed his home, people would shudder in horror at the thought of being accidentally turned into a rat due magic gone wrong and seeing the world from down below or cringed at the thought of getting sand in uncomfortable places after intense competitions of sand surfing.
But Lala looked at him with a sparkle of excitement in her eye and would occasionally point out fun variations to try like horse racing only instead of across the desert, race under the desert, jumping to the few dry spots that were present in the muddy underbelly.
He hoped that if they succeeded in defeating the Coven, Lala would visit Agrabah one day. He had a feeling that the adventures they’d get into together would be amazing. Potentially life threatening. But fun nonetheless. He’d love to watch her go against Fashoom. Or better yet, back to back against the giant scorpions guarding kanz quadim. With his wits and knowledge and her skill and cunning, they’d be an unbeatable team. It’d be fun to go with someone who wanted to be there.
Normally, he went with Jordan but she said it was only because it was her obligation to keep him from breaking his neck and/or all the bones in his body. Her words.
And his few Agrabah friends who would be game to go, were commoners who had to work during the day and it would be unfair for him to ask them to ditch just because he wanted some fun.
Yeah, it’d be fun to explore the hidden valleys of the Seven Deserts with her. He looked back to the white-haired girl where she was still bent over a book of indecipherable Atlantean words and figures, so he turned back to Kaj II, Usulan II and Muviro II. Lala’s leopard men she had named after people she knew would annoy her mother.
Aziz growled with two purrs spaced between like he had heard Raj do but the leopard men looked at him like he was an idiot. He wasn’t sure he was even speaking cat-language but it was better than accidentally challenging him to a fight so he’d take it.
“Will you stop with the ridiculous sounds, you’re not speaking leopard. Better stick to monkeys.” Lala cut through his attempts at conversing.
“How would you know? You said you don’t speak leopard.” Aziz shot back, happy that there was some element of human conversation. How the hell she lived in a jungle for days on end without human interaction was beyond his capabilities.
“True. However, I know what a leopard sounds like and you don’t sound like a leopard. More like a sick alley cat.”
“Excuse me, priestess” Aziz rolled his eyes, and made another purr-growly sound at the leopards just to be contrary.
When could he go outside? When? When? When?
No, it was stupid. He couldn’t go outside and risk looking like he was escaping and ruin the whole damn mission requiring the others to get his ass out of the dungeon again.
He shuddered, gingerly touching the cheek where Staqauit had struck him numerous times, the malicious laughter of the cat twins taunting him about his impending death.
He needed to do something. Being stuck here with just his thoughts was going to drive him insane.
“Hello?”
“Huh what?”
“I said,'' Lala cleared her throat, “If you want to sound more leopard-like, start with a growl in your throat while meowing and add like you’re going to scream.” She demonstrated her leopard yowl which did get the leopard men’s attention as they looked around for sign of attack or danger.
Aziz tried to mimic what Lala did with her instructions but failed part way through as a tickle caught in his nose before his attempted scream and he fell into a coughing fit, painfully hacking his throat.
Aziz panted, catching his breath while Lala had the grace to look back at her book and pretend not to be amused, “Okay maybe talking to cats is not my thing. But you got a leg up me with your feline self.”
“Feline self?” Lala cocked her head curiously, bringing once again to Aziz’s mind, “Curiosity killed the cat.”
“You know, your eyes, the leopards, the-”
“You think I was born with these eyes? You think I’m part cat?” Lala questioned.
“Nooo,” Aziz hedged, already seeing he was going to be wrong, “Not anymore. It’s just your mom has the same eyes so I-”
“It’s spell.” Lala explained, “My mom did it when she got her staff. She did it to me when magic got through to the Isle. It helps me understand the leopards and for them to understand my orders, and it helps my reflexes. There is always a way to improve. Not that I needed improving, but I’ll admit some leopard senses are better than human’s. Like smell. Now I can smell everyone’s scent a mile away.” .
“Scent?”
“Yes, your natural scent. You smell like all that baklav Jordan’s been giving you.” She sniffed the air around him again, “Sand. Jasmine. Musk.”
“What does Jordan smell like?” Aziz asked curiously, and a little relieved that he didn’t smell worse like blood and sweat and general stink from not showering for two weeks.
“Hmm I can’t get a clear smell. You know, not objects per say. But she smells like pheromones, sometimes like fire, sand and wind. Mainly reeks of desperation.”
“Well we’re all in desperate straits here.” Aziz chuckled even though it wasn’t really that funny. Well sort of. Jordan absolutely hated not being in control. Or at least looking like she wasn’t in control. She’d freak if she knew that she quote unquote “reeked of desperation.”
“What about Jay?”
“Sweat, oil, grease, brass, musk, dirt. Something else I can’t tell which usually means someone’s hiding something or lying. Not a surprise there. He’s lucky no one else can smell him, the stench of oil and deceit is unbearable on him.”
“Yeah, good thing. I doubt he’d have a lot of admirers around him if he did.” Aziz said, feeling his mind wander off to too familiar but inevitable train of envious thought.
“Admirers? He has admirers in Auradon? I thought you people didn’t like thieves and bad guys. Why is he popular?”
“He’s good now.” Aziz reminded her, but couldn’t stop the bitterness creeping into his voice as he thought of the crowds praising Jay as he scored yet another goal. All the girls and some guys ooing at him and being utterly charmed as he showed off that he stole their wallets. Or if he executed a pretty decent backflip. The guy looked so cool and attractive no matter what he did. And that bad boy act made him even cooler in everyone’s eyes.
“He’s a good thief like Aladdin,” he remembered hearing someone say and Aziz had burned. Good thief?! Jay wasn’t a good thief! Jay wasn’t stealing things in Auradon because he was hungry or wanted to give to the poor. He stole because he was greedy. Aziz could steal too, Dad taught him the tricks, but when he showed off, he got no applause. They thought he was being inappropriate for a prince of his station.
Or now that Jay was here, it was a second-rate kind of steal. He could steal a watch from someone, but Jay could steal a person’s computer and lunch bag. He got the bigger score.
“People love him and his parkor and stupid tourney goals.” Aziz genuinely growled. He felt his blood pump at how everyone were magnets drawn to his presence while he waited in the wings of the tourney field. They did all the same activities, but Jay was better. People were saying he was equal to Aladdin.
If he was forgettable before Jay came around, now he was just invisible.
And honestly useless compared to Jay. He knew Jordan invited him on this mission because she trusted him and it would be breaking unofficial rule that if one of them went on a life changing save the world adventure, the other had to come too, that was just how things were done. But had he really done anything useful?
No, he had gotten captured. They all had gotten captured but he was the only one who had almost died. Because he was mortal, untrained and weak.
The thoughts came again. Had really been less than a week since he had been in the dungeon? Less than a week but at times he still could feel it as if it had been hours ago.
He could remember it all, some of it was blurred darkness. The only thing registering was that he was in pain. But he remembered the beginning.
Staqauit wasted no time grabbing his throat with one hand and choking him, Chimera and Illusion wrapped their arms around him almost as if they were giving a comforting hug. The thought was quickly diminished as their claws tore through his shirt and dug into his skin, he could feel it, feel the slight curve of their sharpness like a hook that wouldn’t be able to get out. And they didn’t no matter how he fruitlessly thrashed.
But it was only the beginning…
Just as he saw the world fuzz around the edges Staqauit threw him to the ground with Chimera and Illusion still stuck to him.
“Squish”
Aziz wanted to scream at the pain that entered his torso and at the sickening sound of his blood squirting out. It felt his insides were dipped into boiling water.
But he didn’t, he stubbornly refused to cry out. He was supposed to be a hero, he would not admit weakness like this. He would use his wits to get out of it.
But he had barely time to think up a clever escape as he vainly scrambled to stop the blood from gushing out more. He didn’t recall any of the princes or his father ever being stabbed mid-battle.
Chimera and Illusion extricated themselves from him, their low voices purring contentedly at the pain wrought.
Aziz tried to get up but he couldn’t. He felt the stabbing pain even though he wasn’t being hit anymore. He couldn’t concentrate. He just felt the agony. He struggled to his feet but the muscles in his legs gave out as he slipped on the puddle of his own blood that was seeping the floor.
“Ah ah ah, you think I’m done with you?” Staqauit’s accented voice sneered, “That was only a minor surface wound.”
Aziz didn’t look at the man. He was too concerned with trying to stand up straight again, but that was for naught when he felt the scraping cement of what seemed to be a boulder dropped on his back.
“Carry this to the other side of the room. Double time.” Staqauit ordered, his rapier scraping the ground in front of Aziz’s face.
Aziz didn’t know why he thought it was a good idea. Perhaps because he truly couldn’t think of what else to do. He rationalized to himself in some irrational way that if he did this, maybe Staqauit would get bored. Maybe he’d survive. So he did as Staqauit ordered. He tried to lift the boulder.
He felt his hands bleed as they scraped and tensed to keep the boulder steady on his back. Bent down so low that his knees touched his chest. Pressing hard on the wound.
“At least it’s stopped bleeding,” was the sole hysterical thought in his mind. His lungs felt they were burning and just pounding his chest as if to get out of his body. Blood rushed in his ears and the slow smack of Staqauit’s whip on the floor, keeping time, sounded like gunshots to his ears.
He wasn’t breathing right. He knew that. Aziz felt like he had been running for miles. His throat felt the need for oxygen and his eyes watered. But he managed to get one foot forward, his thoughts running wild.
Where were the others? When was Jordan going to come back? For he knew Jordan would come to him the moment she could as she had since he was 4. What if that ruined the mission? That she failed because he was too weak to save himself?
Then his mind took a turn to what he had been suppressing the moment Staqauit got hold of this throat. What if this was it? What if this was how he was going to die?
His knees buckled at the thought and he fell to the ground, allowing the boulder to drop from his back to feel the sting of the whip. This time he didn’t hold back the scream.
That scream was like a whistle for them as Chimera and Illusion pounced, their punches, scratches and kicks indistinguishable from one another.
And there was more…. he remembered the water boarding vaguely but he was glad he mostly blacked out of that, the boulder and the choking was enough for him.
But when he woke up and saw Lala, all he felt was shame that he had to be rescued.
Like every fight, he thought of what he should have done after the confrontation was over. When Staqauit was choking him, he should have kicked him back in the stomach. The stomach area was always a quick disable to an opponent. Staqauit would have let him go and then he could have parkored and fought his way out with the weapons that were stationed around the dungeon.
But he hadn’t done that. He had thrashed and took the assault and hadn’t been able to think up anything on the sly like he knew Jay was infamous for.
With that thought, some defeated admittance slithered into his voice. Not that it was much of a defeat. It was barely a competition when Jay was naturally better and Aziz could never match no matter how hard he tried. “People love him, he’s strong and fast.. everyone wants him or to be like him…..I wish I could be like him too.”
He hated how much it was true.
“Why?” Lala scrunched her nose in confusion.
Aziz sighed, wishing his explanation didn’t sound so pathetic, “I’m forgettable in Auradon. I’m the third in line for the throne so I’m not inheriting the kingdom like all the other guys in my class. And I’m not that talkative. Believe me, in Auradon that is not a good thing if you want people to notice you. Or at least not be forgettable, and Jay can...” he trailed off. He didn’t want to get into the time in the dungeon. She had been there, she knew he was weak.
“And how does Jay fit into this?”
“He’s like me, I guess. Only better in everything. Better thief, better at tourney, more witty, better at flirting. I just blend in...I don’t want that anymore it sucks.”
“Blending in is a good thing. It allows you to skulk and learn your enemies’ tactics so you can ambush them.” Lala said.
“Great. But that’s in the wild. I’m not willing to move to the jungle just so my introvertedness can be an asset.”
“Okay maybe the ambush thing isn’t important but it is still applicable. It’s good that you’re not as outgoing like the others. Look at those people bragging and flirting and trying to garner attention onto themselves, they’re annoying. It’s always them, them, flash and boasts. They would never survive in life because they are always thinking of themselves. They don’t observe their surroundings, they miss the details that could help in the future. Like- like? I know-A fool who does not observe will fail. They will fail and try again and fail and try again. But a person who does take in their surroundings will learn the lesson once and remember it.”
“You don’t dominate the conversation but when you do, it is sensible and important. You don’t waste words. Same with your actions. You don’t talk the talk, you let your actions show how you get things done. I wouldn’t trust those extroverted people with my life. They’re too bold and impulsive and think with their fists. I ca-People can respect you. Trust you. You are genuine, and witty because you think so much, you will be successful later on.”
“I guess so.” Aziz smudged the dirt-packed floor with his foot, watching the sight of a small mealworm that had been habitating there, crawl out, “But it sucks. I get being successful later in life but what about now? In Auradon, no one takes a second look at me. You have to be a really sociable or talented person like Jay to get noticed. I can’t do that. I try but I- And, and what about in the dungeon, my observation skills gave me nothing! If I act a little more like Jay maybe I wouldn’t be the weak link needing to be rescued.” Aziz blurted out.
Lala didn’t speak and Aziz cringed, staring at the ground. But the silence was growing so long he had to look back to gauge her reaction and saw Lala was waiting for him to look at her.
Then she spoke, “You didn’t escape but you did survive. That takes a special inner strength especially when your enemies wish to demoralize and destroy you. And it is useless to ponder what others would have done when they weren’t been in the situation. You did what you could, and if you are so concerned about your aptitude, I’ll teach you. You have the strength, you need to practice better technique. Stop the self pity it’s a disgusting habit.”
Aziz tried to protest, but felt himself only mouthing the words as a damn nervous blush starting crawling up his neck. He still felt like he should have done better but he appreciated Lala’s words. He knew she held herself and almost everyone else on the standard of their physical skill and made it known when she thought someone was weak. For her to claim that he was strong even after she healed him, rescued him and saw him beaten bloody and battered, it meant something.
And what she was about to say earlier? That little slip-up. She respected him. He hadn’t thought earning her respect was something he had wanted, but as she said it.. he felt so good that he did.
“As for the others, fuck them.” Lala interrupted, “Isn’t Auradon a place where you’re not supposed to be shallow? See beyond first impressions and get to know them? If they don’t do that, fuck them. You shouldn’t even be complaining that people don’t notice you because it means to ones who do, actually care. You’re less outgoing than others. It’s not your fault that they don’t try to see beyond.”
Lala was still talking but Aziz stopped listening. What she said, “It’s not your fault” hit him like a sandstorm. The images of his attempts to try to be better. More funny. More entertaining. More talented. More outgoing. Things that people would want to talk to him like they gathered around his father or around Chad and the other royals.
Yet he was outshone by someone better. His constant overthinking working against him as he talked, praying that he didn’t look like he was trying too hard as he was. Praying that he wasn’t going to be forgettable to people. He failed. He wondered what was so wrong with him that made him invisible. He wondered how people like Lonnie and Jordan could insist he was so fun to be around when he couldn’t make his presence known when he was in the room with the likes of Jay.
But it wasn’t entirely his fault. He was born to be more of a listener than a doer. He preferred being one on one with people. He couldn’t change that. But he could accept it. He could accept that he was never going to be the star of the room and that people may not give him a second glance.
If so, then fuck them. Because it was true. If they could write him off as just forgettable, then he didn’t need their attention anyway.
His shoulder moved and he snapped back to realize he had zoned out in front of Lala. He felt a blush crawl up his neck, making him flush more. He hated how obviously red it was against his olive skin. “Sorry I- I was listening. You really.. I realized..I mean. You’re right. You’re absolutely right, Lala. You don’t know how much I needed to hear that. Thank you.”
He leaned forward to hug her but held back. Touchy-feely was not the norm on the Isle, but he felt so grateful for her words that it felt wrong just to say thanks. So he settled for leaning close and smiling. He was pretty sure it was the smile of an idiot but he did it anyway. The nice thing was Lala gave a small-closed lip smile in return and roughly booped his nose.
“I know you needed it. Anyone who is considering to act more like Jay needs to be talked off the deep end.”
Feeling a bit more generous now that he was coming around to accepting he didn’t need to be as cool as Jay to be noticed, Aziz snapped back into psychologist mode, trying to see his observances of Jay through a more objective, less jealous lens.
Not that he had much time to observe Jay since he got hypnotized which was surely a traumatic betrayal on its own since it came from his father’s snake staff. Which spoke to how uncaring and domineering Jafar must be as a father if he felt the need to control his son.
“I don’t know. I think Jay is more than the impulsive idiot you take him for. I believe it's just a facade he puts up.” Aziz mused
“To annoy people? It works.” Lala rolled her eyes.
“What went down between you that you hate him so much?” Aziz asked.
“I don’t hate him, I dislike him. He’s annoying. He stole my spears for himself, he thinks he’s so great he tries to fight Mabaya on his own and almost gets both of us killed because again, he took my weapons and then broke them! What idiot tries to chuck a spear out a charging elephant? It does nothing. If he had to throw the spear, he should have aimed at a vital joint or his eye at least. I can’t respect such idiocy.” Lala huffed.
“I understand but he was a bit out of his element in the jungle and it is his fall-back to try to boast and impress. Usually people who do that are trying to hide something.” Aziz said. Then he thought of a saying of his mother. It was a bit of what Vks called, sentimental Auradon crap, but he felt it should be said, “Sometimes we only see how people are different from us. But if you look hard enough, you can see how we are all like.”
“Whatever.” Lala yawned.
“What happened to not judging people? Look beyond the surface.” Aziz teased.
“That was for you. I’m a bad person, I don’t need to follow that rule.” Lala sniffed haughtily.
It would have been so easy to take that as another little joke in their back and forth, but his observing skills struck again. She sounded haughty but her eyes were downcast, and considering what she said that she was too like her mother… she felt it was true.
“You’re not exactly like your mother, you know. I don’t think so at least” Aziz said softly in case Lala didn’t want to broach the subject and could pretend to ignore him.
“I know I’m not exactly like her. I’m only as close to her as she allows me to be. She’s always one step ahead.” Lala muttered, not looking at him. “If I was like her she’d have me be the princess of Opar. But I’m not good enough for that. Not like Tarzan’s children.”
“I don’t know Tarzan’s children that well but I don’t think Queen La would find them worthy heirs. I never saw Kerchak swing from a tree or pick up a sharp object in my life. And Victoria-”
“No. Not Tarzan and Jane’s children. Tarzan and my mom’s. The ones she’s planning to have in the future. They don’t even exist and I’m not as good as them according to her because I got one stupid scar and I’m claustrophobic.” Lala scowled, smacking the ground in anger of her own weaknesses.
“You seem to be handling your claustrophobia.” Aziz encouraged.
“As long as I don’t think about it. That’s why I study so hard. It’s because it takes my mind off where I am, not because it requires my intense study. Trust me. But at night…” Lala inhaled deeply and tensed, “I hate this place. I miss the fresh air and space. Every time someone closes the door, I feel like it's going to be lock with this air that-” She inhaled deeply again.
“Let’s go to a window,” Aziz suggested motioning to leave the room. Lala took the offer eagerly and they bounded up the stairs to Lala’s room, the leopard men obediently behind them.
Lala threw open the windows to the balcony and breathed deeply. A blissful smile enveloped her features as her body relaxed. The wind was out today, and unlike Auradon, this wasn’t a refreshing light breeze. On the Isle, when the wind blew, it blew like a gust and Aziz was impressed that Lala stood straight without bending to its battering assult. But it fit her. Lala was the person who could stand strong against natural forces. Her face perfectly serene as the wind whipped her white braid about and ruffled her long sleeves.
Aziz stood next to her, keeping a hand to the side of his face as the gusts constantly pushed his bangs into his eyes and mouth and became a general nuisance.
“I don’t think you’re exactly like your mom. Not just because you can’t live to her caliber. You’re not shallow considering you speak to a guy who hasn’t rung any animal by his neck. Despite your wish for a kingdom, I don’t think, at least I’m guessing, you don’t have a real desire to lord over others like a tyrant.”
“From what I’ve observed, and I’m a pretty good observer if I say so myself. You’re reserved because you know that’s the way to survive. But I also think it speaks to how genuine you are. You don’t deal with bullshit, if you respect a person you show it, if you don’t, you don’t. A little blunt but honesty is better than fakery. You seem to actually like learning and challenging yourself with the Atlantean magic. You laughed at my jokes which shows you have a brilliant sense of humor... And despite what you say, you did care about your siblings. You can’t live up to her mom and her imaginary children? Then fuck her. You’re pretty formidable by yourself. You’d be successful as a warrior or a priestess or whatever. You’d have awesome adventures no matter what you do because you’re a badass warrior princess.``
Although she wasn’t looking at him, he could tell she was listening. He could see the corner of her mouth twitching up and down, fighting a smile. So he decided to return the favor and nose boop her to get her attention.
She batted his hand away but a small laugh escaped her lips. “Badass warrior princess. Hmm you observed me very well.”
“Eh little observations here and there, some is just gut instinct. Some people may think a person’s reserve is them being stuck up but I get your’s is more than that.” Aziz coughed as a piece of his hair blew into his mouth.
“People may think you’re forgettable, but I understand you’re more of an observer.” Lala pursed her lips, catching her braid as it flew to hit Aziz’s cheek.
Aziz rubbed his cheek, his mother’s saying popping into his head again. He shrugged, feeling oddly self-conscious and nervous about repeating the quote. Which was weird because he said it about Jay just a few minutes before. But saying it, to Lala, seemed more..more meaningful somehow.
No, he was overthinking all of this again so Aziz ignored it, “Sometimes we only see how people are different from us. But if you look hard enough, you can see how we are all like.”
Lala smiled at him and there was something.. a something in the air. Energy, a vibe, he wasn’t sure but it made the fact that even though they were in the blustery air, he felt as if he were enclosed in a small world between the two of them.
Time to change the subject then!
“So speaking of observing, I haven’t really had the chance to do it around here much, but isn’t it fascinating to watch the people here?” Aziz asked.
People watching was his go to subject for most conversations. Not that many people had much to contribute. People watching was not a thing most people engaged in which he thought was a shame. It was the most fun ever! People had such weird idiosyncrasies even when they did a normal thing like walking past whether it was an odd head bop or having feet pointed in first position or the like.
Lala shrugged and Aziz nodded understandingly. He knew the topic wouldn’t probably go anywhere but then...“What's people watching?”
“Oh it’s this thing where you just sit and watch random people. You know observe their habits, stuff that they do.” Aziz sighed. It was a lot more interesting action than in explanation.
“Oooh!” Lala nodded understandingly, “Like observing your prey and enemies. I’ve done that lots of times. It’s entertaining.”
Aziz’s eyes widened, “You think it’s fun too!”
Lala looked at him as if he was crazy for suggesting otherwise, “Yes. It’s a useful skill and people do such weird stuff.”
“Such weird stuff!” Aziz said at the same time, and then he tried to dial down the enthusiasm in his voice when Lala made the “calm down” sign, snorting at his excitement.
“Remember when we were at Gaston’s bar and that Hun guy was fighting Stanley? I noticed in other fights that he does this thing with his head.. ugh I can’t describe it. But like he’d almost twist his...”
———————————————————————————————
That had been three days ago and they almost talked for an hour when Kaj II growled his warning that Queen La was arriving and Aziz had to swing off the balcony and climb against the wall to the correct balcony that would lead to Jade’s room.
Not that he had realized it but in hindsight, that might have been the moment he developed a crush on the warrior princess. Ever since then, he just… he just wanted to be around her a little more compared to the others. He wanted to hear more about her opinions or stories or anything she had to say.
And whenever she smiled at his jokes even if she rolled her eyes because it was corny, he felt like he won a tourney victory or something. And she was so..so graceful. Not cat-like graceful but beautiful, every move she makes was stunning.
Not that he allowed himself to think about it too much. There were more important things at stake like saving the world, and if he thought about how he had a crush on Lala then he’d get self-conscious and nervous and he didn’t want that. Their friendship was just fine for him. He was even teaching her monkey.
Not that it was any of Jordan’s business.
“It’s not important.” Aziz said.
“It better not be. You can try to deny it but I can see that “Can you feel the love tonight” nonsense from a mile away. Why don’t you just forget crushing on mermaids and.. and maybe a nice girl from Agrabah. Or a nice boy. You had such a good time with Mena, remember.”
“Mena was...Honestly Mena was the only guy I.. I can’t. I keep comparing other men to him which is— Can we not talk about him?” Aziz growled, partly from the memory of his sole boyfriend who had used him for the status of dating a prince and had been cheated on him the whole time, and partly because Jordan was bringing him up even though she knew it was a touchy subject.
“I know he didn’t work out but it’s like you told me, you can’t give up on the whole male population because of one cheating boyfriend. Cheating would be nothing compared to this. This crush is a mistake.” Jordan huffed.
“Why is it a mistake exactly?” Aziz raised an eyebrow at Jordan’s judgemental attitude. Usually she was all for Aziz meeting someone and start planning their dates even though her tastes were a bit extravagant like setting off fireworks when he leaned in for a kiss.
“I get the appeal, really. She was a mysterious stranger swinging on a vine. But she’s the same stranger who broke Calix’s arm! He’s lucky that he has magic on his side and could heal the arm that she broke. If he was mortal, he’d be doomed. There’s no hospitals here, we’d have to cut it off.”
“That’s not how unattended broken arms work, Jordan.” Aziz rubbed his temples at her wildly dramatic reasons why having a crush on Lala would be bad, “It doesn’t matter, I’m not going to do anything when there are more important things at stake.”
“I know. I’m just saying you shouldn’t even pursue this when we get back to Auradon. Think about, Aziz. Really think about it. Imagine what would happen if you even got together? She’s the daughter of Queen La. Allah knows that if she got jealous, she’d murder the other person and kill you for looking a for wandering eyes.” Jordan said.
“Then I guess you both have something in common.” Aziz said sarcastically, “Like when you sent your ex a box of scorpions when you found him cheating on you.”
“That’s completely different! He deserved it! You don’t deserve to feel pain. I’m telling you it’s not good to act on love at first sight.”
“Love at first sight?” Aziz scoffed. Did she not even know him? They always joked about people who thought they fell in love at first sight.
Sure, for some it was true. Auradon was practically built on it but more often than not it could lead to a very difficult marriage. That’s why Snow White took that job as a reporter so she wouldn’t be around King Florian so much.
Jordan should know him better, he may get a crush at first glance, but he wouldn’t act on it unless he was sure there was more.
“I’m not in love with her. I’m not doing anything with her.”
“You’re hanging out with her!” Jordan cried.
“I’m also hanging out with Jade. With your logic, I could be crushing on her. She’s clever, she’s daring, we have things in common, we can do parkour together. Plus she’s the daughter of one of our families’ enemies. Star crossed lovers and all that. It’s a perfect fairytale romance.” Aziz breathlessly mocked.
“Jade is not… she wouldn’t use you like Lala.”
“She’s a Vk, who says Jade wouldn’t.” Aziz pointed out.
“Jade’s like you and me.” Jordan defended lamely.
“How? What? Because she’s descended from Agrabahians?” Aziz cried. He knew she could be judgemental and superficial but really? This?
“No. I mean technically yeah but no. She and Jay. She cares about him. They’re like us.” Jordan said meaningfully, grasping his hands and looking lovingly in his eyes in a way that made Aziz feel small and childish.
He hated it when she got like this. Acting like she was so much more worldly and knowing because she was a genie. She had a duty to protect him, the poor sheltered mortal prince who didn’t know any better or understand the morally grey areas of life. He survived torture in the damn dungeon!
Which now that he thought about it, beyond the hug Jordan hadn’t asked him a single thing about the incident. It seemed to have completely slipped her mind. Yeah, she cared about his safety. But for all the wrong reasons.
“So? If that was true then why don’t you trust Jay if his bond with Jade is so much like our bond.” Aziz asked, pointing out the hole in her little argument.
“Well um I, Jay’s Jay’s complicated and I mean I don’t distrust him, it’s just after he said that thing about me giving..”
The epiphany dawned on Aziz before Jordan finished her sentence. How could he not have realized it before? It was all Jordan ever worried about.
“It’s because Jade hasn’t asked you for wishes and Lala has. That’s it.”
“She probably figured out that I’d back out of my promise so she’s trying to use you so you could convince me to give her wishes!”
Jordan cried like a detective solving a case with her convoluted logic.
“And you think she’s going to seduce me to do that? Do you have so little trust in me?” Aziz used the calm steely tone that he knew would annoy her most. Not only did she act like he was a sheltered, naive mortal but a weak willed one too.
“NO no I do trust you! I know you would never intentionally do that to me. But I don’t want you to get hurt just because she’s manipulating you to get to me!” Jordan screamed, stamping her foot childishly that he was not giving into her.
“How self-absorbed can you get? Jordan, the world doesn’t revolve around you and your powers. Is it such a crazy thought that she might actually fall for me?” Aziz matched his volume to hers.
“Why wouldn’t she want me? I have phenomenal cosmic power and convenience for everyone. A lamp that forces me to obey their desires. You can’t offer her that. You’re just..you.”
Aziz stared at her, the sentence hitting him like a gut punch. He couldn’t believe Jordan of all people was saying this to him. She was the one who always helped him out on dates and assured him that anyone would fall in love with him after
….Maybe all that helping out wasn’t just from the goodness of her heart? It was because she secretly thought he couldn't get a girl on his own. Why would he with his so few talents? He wasn’t debenoir or charming enough like Jay. He wasn’t going to inherit the throne like other princes. What did he have to offer that the other boys at Auradon Prep couldn’t offer or even top? All he had was a genie friend who’d make “a whole new world” dates.
Moreover, it hurt. His best friend in the world also thought that he wasn’t good enough on his own. She thought he needed her to survive through life and love and all those trials.
Now he was glad he told Lala how he felt ignored. Clearly his so-called “best friend/wingwoman/sister” was too oblivious and selfish to comfort him. Not even that. She secretly shared everyone else’s opinion that he was forgettable!
“Me? What does that-“ Aziz snarled.
“I-I just don’t want you to spend so much time with her.” Jordan seemed to sense his anger and began backtracking, “You know I don’t have a lot of people to hang out with. So many people just want me for my wishes. You-you don’t want to use me. You’re my best friend. That’s why I need you. After everything I’ve done for you, all I’m asking is for you to be my friend.”
Aziz heard her but didn't listen, her hurtful words still ringing in his ears. Besides that was completely unbelievable. She was afraid of losing him? That was a ridiculous idea and she knew that. If she was going to lie to his face, she could try to make it believable!
And what? It wasn’t like he owed her for everything she had done for him. That wasn’t how friendship worked! He didn’t ask her to do things and join adventures. She did it herself because she was his friend.
Or he had thought it was because they were sibling/friends. Apparently it was because she believed he needed her.
“You need me around forever to sooth your constant paranoid insecurity. I get it.” Aziz rolled his eyes sarcastically.
“It’s not a paranoid insecurity. It’s a fact.” Jordan claimed.
“Jordan, have you ever thought, maybe the reason people will only look at you for your wishes is because your general personality is unbearable to deal with. That’s why no one wants to be your friend. There’s nothing likable to be friends with but thank Allah, at least if they hang around long enough they’ll get wishes out of you.” Aziz snapped.
Jordan froze, clearly hurt by the sound of the crack in her voice, “Do you feel that way too?”
Aziz didn’t give himself time to think. She didn’t deserve any amount of comfort from him after what she just said. She didn’t need to act like she knew everything about life and treat him like an incapable, forgettable mortal. That was what he was to her, a mortal. And he knew from all their talks together just how little she respected mortals. And apparently he was no exception.
“Yes, sometimes I do.”
For a brief eerie moment, the wind was sucked out of the room and silence reigned. Oppressive, weighty silence that he could literally feel pressing against his chest and head and the rest of his body. He began to wonder if he should try to escape, that Jordan was about to do something they’d both regret.
“GET OUT!!” Jordan screamed.
“I can’t get out. You control your lamp.” Aziz hissed through his teeth to keep from yelling again.
“Fuck you.” The sight of Jordan giving him the finger was his last vision before pink smoke and sand fogged up his view and he rudely fell to the floor.
He glared at the lamp, imagining its arrogant, selfish, all knowing, cosmic occupant pacing the floor, creating a mini sand storm in her anger. Fine.
“Fuck you too.”
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YOU PROBABLY HAVEN’T HEARD of Duncan Hannah, a New York–based painter and illustrator, though there’s a somewhat famous, mid-’70s photo of him lounging in a rattan chair next to a bathing-suit-clad Debbie Harry. The image comes from an obscure 1976 art film called Unmade Beds, an amateurish, charming New York time capsule directed by Amos Poe (neither Hannah nor Harry could act).
Hannah will now be known as a diarist. As he notes in his new book Twentieth-Century Boy: Notebooks of the Seventies: “This is not a memoir. These are journals, begun in 1970 at the age of seventeen, written as it happened, filled with youthful indiscretions.”
Arriving in New York City from Minnesota, thin and wispy young Duncan is already well read and culturally hip — and not lockstep hip either, but rather a precocious contrarian. In art, he likes comic books, illustrators, and, most of all, David Hockney. To his credit, he tells his knee-jerk-avant art teachers at Bard College that he likes the Pre-Raphaelites. (“They shook their heads…” Well, of course they did. Of course they did.) He paints portraits of his offbeat literary heroes (e.g., Wyndham Lewis, Colin Wilson), which itself is kind of odd, and exhibits them in a group show, “in spite of not fitting in with the show’s agenda.”
Most of this book recounts our young rake meeting almost everyone important in his two worlds of art and music: Hockney, Warhol, Henry Geldzahler, Larry Rivers, David Bowie, Brian Eno, Bryan Ferry. A precocious dialectician, he can spar with the best — and worst — of them:
Danny shouts, “Louis, Louis, come join us!” looking at the entrance to the back room. I crane my neck to see who he is talking to. Gulp. Standing there in an alcoholic stupor, looking into my eyes, is the avatar of decadence and perversion, the legendary Lou Reed!
Creepy Reed lopes over to their table and whispers a truly stomach-turning proposition to our young diarist, which I won’t describe here. Appalled, Hannah becomes an ex-fan: “My hero worship is immediately over. Ick. […] He downs the rest of his tequila and leaves me alone in the booth to ponder my missed scatological opportunity.” It’s telling that Hannah, who lets the reader know that he has excised much from these journals, decided to leave this story in. Later on, he spots Reed at Max’s Kansas City, looking “like a skinny chimpanzee.”
Our narrator’s musings reach a peak of quotability whenever he’s witnessing the sorry truth about his heroes:
Fran Lebowitz sits with us and complains about her latest trick. [New York] Dolls drummer Jerry Nolan comes in with a gaudy chick in leopard skin, zippers, and frosted hair. Real skanky. Fran slips off …
Hannah also displays a shrewd ear for good music versus trash:
Bryan Ferry never disappoints […] Hawkwind […] weren’t to my taste. Queen […] I don’t like. […] Television is sounding better and better. Lenny Kaye called them “the golden apple at the top of the tree.”
[D]rove to Edgar Winter’s house on Sands Point, Long Island. This is Fitzgerald country, the fictional East Egg […] Gatsby! Yet inside this mansion was a rock band, dressed in their glitter sneakers and spandex, playing pinball machines and watching crap TV. Oblivious […] Pearls before swine, I thought to myself. We listened to a rough mix of their new album, which sounded lame […] Just loud, boring product for dullard youths. Rock ‘n roll can be incredibly stupid.
At what must have been the greatest New York rock-star party that ever happened, at the Academy of Music in June 1974, he sidles up to both Bryan Ferry, who’s distant and distracted, and David Bowie, who’s friendly, engaging, and witty:
He graced me with a glance, and I asked him if he was collecting material for a new song at this very minute. He sneered his canines at me and said, “Yah, why, do you wanna be in my song?”
I sneered back, “Yah, what about it?” We kept up our grimaces like a couple of thugs, necks outstretched, until he broke out laughing.
Meanwhile, in the art scene, minimalism is in full swing, but Duncan is (appropriately) unmoved. His stubborn conservatism, though, seems possibly to have cost him a more high-profile art career in such a ripe time and place. Hockney himself pays a visit and critiques his work (“Your drawing is a bit heavy-handed in the American fashion”), but progress remains slow, and he resists painting “something conceptual […] [s]omething that had quotes around it.” Regardless, Hannah’s days in New York were clearly tilted more in favor of “the life” (sex, drugs, and parties).
You might assume that our young-and-waify hero proceeded to screw his way willy-nilly through the gender-bending, glammy ’70s, this being the comparatively carefree, pre-AIDS era. But though his wolf-baiting good looks and friendliness are a constant magnet to a parade of lecherous males, he remains, steadfastly, straight as a razor.
The budding sociologist in Hannah (all of 22 here) is sharp-eyed when recalling a party at “the old Factory”:
This is the place where trigger-happy Valerie Solanas shot Andy. Creepy. They used to shoot laser beams from up here across the park into Max’s. I feel the party’s force fields, currents of strength, currents of weakness. “The love that dare not speak its name” just won’t shut up these days. Gayness has lost its underground status in NYC and is busy becoming the dominant sensibility. Lots of affectation. Sad when things turn to parody.
A short detour through London in August 1972 (“We sit at the dark basement bar and eyeball a couple of likely-looking English lasses, in their ‘frock coats and bipperty-bopperty hats’”) contains yet another best-possible-time-and-place music pilgrimage I can’t help but envy:
Robert Wyatt’s new group, Matching Mole, play. I love them. Then it’s Roy Wood’s Wizzard, who look ridiculous but sound great.
At intermission, we drank vodka […] and wound up talking to a forward young girl named Mary. […] Mary said she liked effeminate boys and I nudged her over to the doorway […] and kissed her and felt up her tits.
Bingo, glam-rock-era success! (This episode aside, the book is disappointingly scant on pornographic details, despite the number of conquests it chronicles.) Our thin white duke’s 20th birthday is summarily ruined, however, when his androgynous looks and excessive drinking in a London gay bar lead to what he calls a “near-rape experience,” the one truly frightening episode in the book.
While the party girls and the art-student girls keep on “flying low” for our handsome young buck, the picaresque life is starting to wear him down:
I smell like booze all the time now, but it’s expensive booze for a change. Perpetual hangover. […] I’m living faster than I can write. Not that I actually have something to write about. There’s no time to do it.
Everything turns sour. “The next chapter of this blackout finds me alone…” Hannah realizes he’s an alcoholic. A “real” girlfriend in his life (a rarity) turns out to be nuts:
Terry was hearing voices in her head, and she stabbed me in the chest with a small penknife she keeps in her bag. The little blade bounced off a bone. Ouch! This because the voices were teasing her about my so-called “harem.” “Terry, there is no harem!” But the voices insisted.
There is much tottering down smelly New York alleyways in platform shoes during many a besotted dawn. It’s a pungent, Scorsese’d-out New York that wafts up from these pages: “It’s hard to unravel people’s origins in New York. They act cagey. Suspicious”; neurosis in the air “mistaken for energy […] the new pissiness”; “[p]eople fall apart all the time.”
As a final flourish, our now jaded dandy is disappointed when he visits grumpy Ned Rorem, who doesn’t come on to him at all but is actually a rather unfriendly old fuck. But Dunc is unfazed. To quote from an old blues song: “His disposition takes him through this world.”
Twentieth-Century Boy is a breezy, demotically precise portrait of Bowie-and-Warhol New York, splayed like a passed-out wino on every page. Hannah, who has no regrets and still looks young, now lives in New York and Connecticut.
¤
Anthony Mostrom is a journalist living in Los Angeles. He was formerly an LA Times columnist and a book reviewer and travel writer for the LA Weekly.
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