#here's some more ivy (and his hands) content for your tuesday.

[prettyboyivy]

[pigtownchronicles]

Chapter 2.3 - Getting the Runaround

As soon as Dennis stepped into the lobby at Precinct 27 on Tuesday around noon, he gave a little grimace. This was not the well kept, shiny sort of police station they had out in the suburbs (or at least, it wasn’t the idea of a well kept, shiny police station that he had in mind, since he had never stepped foot in one aside for a tour with the boy scouts when he was a teenager). The room was dimly lit, the tiles were dingy and didn’t look like they’d seen a mop in quite some time. There was one cop at a desk behind a plexiglass partition, but it didn’t look like he was doing any work--just reading a magazine or something, leaning back, and...no, he couldn’t be doing that, that would be so unprofessional!

Dennis cleared his throat as he stepped up towards the glass, and the officer sighed, put down the magazine under the counter, and scooted forward. If he had been engaging in something unpleasant down there, he made no effort to zip back up. Dennis hoped he’d been wrong in his assumption. “Hi, I’d like to file a report,” he said when he got to the glass.

“What about?”

“A club in the area. Depot. I was there on Friday, and I witnessed more code violations than I’d have liked to see. Underage drinking, indoor smoking, drug dealing, public sex, all sorts of stuff.”

He’d expected a little bit of concern from the officer, but he just looked somewhere between bored and annoyed that Dennis was standing in front of him at all. “That sounds like a job for the liquor control board and the health department, bud,” he said.

“I already called both of those places, and they said that, for whatever reason, Precinct 27 handles that stuff around here, so here I am.”

“Ah, I see. Alright, well, we’ll look into it then.”

Dennis stood there in the silence, and he realized that the officer was just expecting him to leave, after that. “Aren’t you going to take my name or number? File a report? I’m a witness.”

With a heavy sigh, the officer pulled out a pad of paper--not even anything official looking, and a pen. “Name?”

“I’d like to speak to your supervisor,” Dennis said.

“He’s out.”

“Out?”

“Yeah, he’s out. It’s lunchtime. You can wait if you want, but you look like a real busy fellow. Or how about this, you can give me your name.”

Dennis sighed, gave the officer his name, phone number and address, then watched as he tossed the pad back in the drawer beside him and closed it. “I’ll make sure to inform an investigator, don’t you worry.”

The condescension was almost enough for Dennis to take the man up on his offer and wait there for his supervisor to come back, but likely that would just waste more time, and he still had appointments that afternoon at the hospital. So he left. No wonder Depot was flouting the law so brazenly, if this is the sort of enforcement this part of town was dealing with. He was busy coming up with a list of folks even higher up to email that evening--police commissioners, city council members, the mayor even--when he saw a couple of guys on the other side of the street, and his jaw dropped.

It was Kyle again. Kyle, and...and was that the same fucking bear from the club that he’d pulled him away from? They were walking down the sidewalk, chatting, Kyle holding a bag of takeout, likely from one of the hole-in-the-walls around there, before going into a shop front for Marshall’s Cigar and Briar. Dennis jaywalked across the street and followed them inside, as they were doling out the contents of the bag between them.

“Hey bud, come back in a bit, it’s lunchtime,” the older bear said without looking up. Kyle though, recognized Dennis, and his face went pale. Twice in less than a week--was Dennis following him or something?

“Hey, Mr. Case...”

“Kyle, what are you doing here?” Dennis asked, “And isn’t that the guy from the fucking club?”

Marshall finally looked up, recognized Dennis, and gave a little huff. “Oh, it’s you. I hate how this place does this.”

“What?” Dennis asked.

“Bud, Kyle here is an employee of mine. We are currently having lunch. I assure you, everything here is perfectly fine. If you’d like to purchase something, why don’t you come back in half an hour. Otherwise, you can go ahead and fuck off.”

“You’re working? Here? For him? Since when?” Dennis asked Kyle, “Why didn’t you say anything about that on Friday?”

Kyle wasn’t sure what to say, and mostly he just wanted to slip under the floorboards for a while, and maybe die. “You...you won’t tell my dad, will you?”

“Tell your dad you’re working at a fucking smokeshop? Maybe I should. Maybe I should also tell him you’re going out to clubs underage while I’m at it! I still haven’t made my mind up about that, either, you know.”

“You don’t understand, alright? I’m fucking eighteen, you can’t just...just decide what’s fucking best for me!”

“You’re fucking eighteen, you don’t even know what’s best for you!” 

While they’d been yelling, Marshall had been calmly preparing a cigar for himself, and lighting it. Before Dennis could wheel on him, and likely try and chastise him for smoking indoors, He took an inhale, and pushed it all into Dennis’ face. Kyle watched, horrified, expecting Dennis to start coughing and explode even more, but instead, he watched as he went rather calm, almost like he was in a bit of a trance.

Marshall stood up, and beckoned Dennis over to the counter where he was standing, and without a word, Dennis did as the finger commanded. Then, Kyle watched as Marshall caught a wisp of smoke out of the air between his fingers, and twisted it, making it longer and thinner, with a little hook on the end. He put one hand on top of Dennis’s head and tilted it to one side, before sliding the wisp of smoke into his ear, twirling it a bit, and then pulling it out--along with...something else. Something a little smoke-like, but almost opalescent. Before Kyle could get a good look, Marshall had waved his hand through both hook and the bit he’d pulled free from Dennis’s head, and they dissolved into the air.

“Now, you’re going to leave my shop, and continue along whatever path you were going before, understand? You will never tell Kyle’s father about his activities. If asked by him about Kyle, you will only ever talk about what a good kid he is, responsible, and as an adult, he should be given as much autonomy as he needs, understand?”

Dennis nodded his head.

“Good, now get out of this shop.”

Dennis turned around and left, leaving Kyle with his jaw on the floor. “What did you do to him?”

“I know a few tricks,” Marshall said.

“Yeah, I’ve seen a couple of them, but what was that?”

“I pulled out the memory of him seeing us on the sidewalk, coming in here and trying to start a fight. Then, I used a little control on him, told him to carry on with his day. Easier than talking to him--I hate blowhards like that, they never know when to shut up. Come on, let’s eat.”

Marshall sat down and took a bite from his sandwich. Kyle stood on the other side of the counter, took a smaller bite from his own, and then set it down. After a couple of minutes, he asked, “Can...you teach me how to do that?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Marshall said.

“What...does that mean?”

“You said you’re going to college soon?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Out of state, right? One of those ivy league places,” Marshall put down the sandwich, and picked the cigar back up. “This place, Pigtown. It’s not just a place, you know. What’s happening here, it’s complicated. Most guys who come in here, eventually, they don’t go back out.”

Kyle thought about Marlon for a moment, the first he had all day, and pulling that memory free was like dragging it out from a swamp. He nodded.

“There’d be no college,” Marshall said. “No family outside of this chunk of city.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I just need you to believe me, and trust me,” Marshall said, “What you want is not a simple thing. This place makes you give up more than you ever thought you’d have to. What you get back is...well, I wouldn’t want to leave, I can tell you that. But if he was right about one thing, it’s that you’re, well, young, Kyle.” He saw him start to get defensive and Marshall shook his head, “I don’t mean it like he does. I mean, you have potential. A future. Many futures. This place is hungry for people like you. It wants you, badly, and it brought us together because it knew I had something you wanted, and wanted bad. I don’t mind giving it to you. But you ought to know what you’ll be giving up. Most never get the choice.”

“I do want it.”

“I know you do,” Marshall said, and picked up his sandwich again, “But think about it. Really think about it for me. We’ll talk again tomorrow, alright? Now eat up, we’ll have some regulars looking for their smokes banging on the door soon.”

***

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[shawnsorangeglasses]

The Opposition - Part 3.1

3.1k words

Shawn is a tightly wound, Type A law student in college. For the most part, he has his life figured out and planned to the minute. Then comes Caroline, a charming Type B and his unlikely equal.

thank you all for being so patient. ...

It's Wednesday. Shawn fears the closer he gets to Friday, the less motivated he is to crash the frat party. This morning, Caroline sent him a text riddled with lowercase letters and several typos to discuss the plan. He's meeting her in front of the library a few hours after his first class. On Mondays and Wednesdays, it's ethics and his third criminal law course in the afternoon. Tuesdays and Thursdays is legal writing and criminal behavior. He loves the work, but it’s nice to do something else, even if it is scheming.

He walks by a group of senior women on the way. They smile and wave flirtatiously, but he keeps his eyes low and walks faster. They laugh.

Caroline is waiting for Shawn on the back of the library's lion statue, conducting her hands to music only she can hear through her earbuds. Of course that's where she is, Shawn thinks to himself. Her sweater, the one from last night, is tied around her waist. She doesn't notice him at first because the song is up at full volume. Bright yellow socks are the only vibrant color she's chosen to wear today in an otherwise plain ensemble.

"You're not supposed to sit on those," he tells her.

Her head snaps around, "Oh, it's just you. Where's Harry?"

"Theater club until 6 PM."

Caroline grunts and groans, rolling rather ungracefully off the metal beast. "How the hell am I supposed to sit through this without him?"

"I'm sure you'll manage." Shawn leads towards the double doors, but a tiny hand latches onto his elbow, stopping him short.

"Can't you just tell me right here in the sun? It's freezing inside."

Shawn taps his heel on the pavement impatiently. "I suppose we can go to the old greenhouse out back."

Caroline cocks an eyebrow. "Oh, he's taking me out back. How scandalous."

"Relax, it's not in use anymore and half the windows are smashed. It's the furthest thing from romantic.

"She circles him, "Uh huh, sure it is."

"It��is."

Shawn takes her down a path that’s gone undisturbed for a long time. The greenhouse is obscured by a wall of untamed trees and shrubbery. The only entrance is a gate overrun by vines and ivies. Shawn unlatches the lock and its rusty chain falls limp with a clang.

"After you," he says, permitting Caroline to enter first.

"Are we allowed back here, Mr. Rulebook?"

"This is the only rule you'll ever find me breaking."

Caroline gazes up at the quaint structure in all its decay and ruin. Branches extend in and out of broken windows. She can just make out a misty rainbow in the fog at the very top of the roof. Ironically, it’s probably the prettiest part of the campus she’s seen so far.

"How'd you find this place?"

"Ms. Attie brought me here my first semester. It used to be kind of panic room for me, but I haven't needed it lately."

She takes two steps forward. "Is it safe?"

"There's broken glass and exposed wires everywhere, but you're smart enough. I think you'll live."

“Aw, you think I’m smart?”

He has to smile at his slip up. “I think you’re adept. Don’t get a big head.”

Shawn pats her shoulder and moves ahead. Caroline jogs after him, trying to keep up with his long strides in the tall grass.Inside are only vague reminders of what the greenhouse may have looked like before the wilderness reclaimed it. All kinds of weeds have pushed through the ground floor. Unchecked foliage has made the once spacious house small and humid inside. Caroline picks up one of the few plants that are still in a solid pot, then sets it back in its dust ring.Shawn stops at the iron staircase leading to a platform above.

"This way. Attie said the steps are too corroded to be safe, so we have to use the ladder."

The ladder leans against the second floor ledge with cinder blocks at its feet to keep it in place. It goes straight up into a sunnier ledge, closest to the ceiling. It's the only part of the greenhouse with all the windows still intact. Caroline again goes ahead of him, but loses her footing on a loose rung. Shawn's quick to catch her, grabbing onto her hip. He doesn't let go until she's regained her balance, and even so his fingertips linger on her midriff.

"Any other surprises," she huffs.

"I don't know, maybe? It's been a while."

She smirks down at him, then continues to climb. Each step, she tests the rungs with a few taps before proceeding. Shawn is trying to keep from looking, but she's right there above his head, in shorts. He concentrates on his own steps.

Caroline's feet patter around the platform. "Hmm, I don't know Mendes. This looks pretty romantic to me."He's about to protest again until he makes the top of the ladder. A picnic is set up on one of the metal tables, but clearly abandoned. Shawn sighs.

"Harry must have been here recently with some guy or girl, most likely showing off." He can feel Caroline's eyes on him. "Which is not why we're here, for the last time."

"Alright. Did he leave any non-perishables?"

Shawn sifts through the picnic basket's contents. Every single bag is torn to shreds. "No, looks like the raccoons came through— oh wait, there's a jar of raw honey."

"I call dibs."

"You can have it," Shawn chuckles. "Harrison keeps our kitchen stocked with the stuff."

She takes the jar, holding it up to the sun. "Why did we come here, again?"

"Going over the plan."

"Oh yeah."

Caroline hops up onto a shelf in between two flower bushes, securing her jar of honey at the bottom of her bag. Sun spills shafts of light on her hair, making them a rich brown around the edges.

"The party's on Friday and I know I'm your plus one. We definitely shouldn't stay too long though. What's our out going to be?"

"I could get 'sick' or 'too drunk' and you have to take me home."

"That could work. I say we try to avoid attention altogether though. Kate knows I don't do parties and I won't know how to explain myself."

Caroline pokes a fern and its leaves retract. "Just say you're doing research on college party scenes and how they affect academic accomplishment or something."

"That's...actually a good idea."

She flips her hair and shrugs. "I know."

"Okay, don't get cocky." Shawn nibbles on his thumb. "I guess we're ready?"Caroline tilts her head at him. "You don't sound ready."

"I am very nervous, yes."

"Well don't worry. Just think of it as extreme eavesdropping."

"There's still so many margins of error," he mutters to himself. "Argh, this is why I hate parties. I have no way of actually preparing for this. What if something stupid happens? What if the cops show up? Cops always show up in the movies. Listen to me, comparing real life to the movies-”

"Hey," she slides down from the shelf and puts two hands on his shoulders. Her inky brown eyes penetrate his own. "Don’t spiral. That's why I'm coming with you. We can always improvise. It's gonna be fine. In the name of love, right?"

Shawn takes a deep, shaky breath. She'd been saying this to him since Monday. In the name of love. But Shawn isn't even positive he loves Kate, whatever that means. She just makes him tingly all over. All girls make him a little nervous once they show an interest in him. It isn't even all about love at this point. He just wants everything to go back to normal.

"Right," he says anyway. "In the name of love."

"Okay then," she gives him shake and lets go. "How much time do you have?"

Shawn checks his watch. "About two hours."

"Wanna go eat?" …

The dining hall is flowing with students coming and going. All the major groups have found their respective tables for the hour. Caroline seems to know at least a few people in every clan they pass by on the way to the kitchen, and every person is happy to see her or has some inside joke to share.

"Uh Caroline," Shawn taps her shoulder, "What exactly is your major?"

"I don’t know yet. I really like everything. Why?""

You just seem to know...well, everyone."

"Oh, I had psychology last year. Between surveys and case studies, you kind of meet people. And I made mine so they could be interesting and fun, so they’d come back."

Shawn gazes at a few of the people they passed. Music majors, science majors, even the business majors knew Caroline. A few are looking in his direction. Most people know Shawn from the mock trials because they get published in the school newspaper. His serious reputation has preceded him for quite some time. So naturally, they'd be curious as to why he's suddenly at breakfast with Caroline.

"Everybody's staring," he tells her in a hushed voice.

"Well yeah, it's me standing next to you," she said much louder, already having read the room.

Shawn has noticed the physical contrast of him Caroline before. His lean and broad figure just barely towering over her stocky, compact build is something to behold. They couldn't be more different.

"They might also be staring because of your face," she says as she makes a beeline for the pasta trays.

"What's wrong with my face?"

"Literally nothing. That's why they're staring, genius."

Shawn squints at her. "You have very interesting way of paying me compliments."

She gives him a tender pat on the shoulder. "What are friends for?"

He has to admit to himself, she is entertaining without trying. The honesty that comes with Caroline's words is refreshing. The few girls he's come across in the past hardly ever say what they mean or feel. Kate was one of them.

"Let's sit over there," Caroline nods at a small corner table well lit by a wall of windows. Empty booths are scarce in the cafe. A few feet away from that spot is Jared Price with a handful of law majors. Shawn grabs Caroline’s arm and pulls her behind a wall next to the vending machines. Without meaning to, he’s pinned her into a corner.

“What the hell’s your problem,” she snaps. “I almost dropped my pasta.”

“Shush,” he hisses.

It’s only been a few times that a guy has had Caroline on the wall in this fashion. Shawn’s approach is, of course, in no way romantic and definitely clumsy to say the least. Though she knows it’s probably not intentional, she can’t help but feel the tiniest impulse to misbehave right now.

Shawn’s still tensed up and peering around the corner. She takes a peek. There’s plenty of people to look at and her heart was kind of hoping to see Kate floating in between some of the tables. No one seems to fit the description Shawn’s given her in recent conversations. In fact, his panicked eyes are completed transfixed on a table surrounded by what look like carbon copies of him.

“Must be a law thing to dress like the dean,” she says. “Don’t you want to talk to your kin?”

“Not necessarily,” Shawn says with a shake of his head.

"Well, do you mind," she says looking him up and down. "I'm kind of stuck between a vending machine and a... well, a hard place."

A harsh blush seeps into Shawn's face and neck as he realizes the position he's put them in. Caroline holds her takeout box of food close to her chest in one hand and pushing back on his abs with the other. A wry, all-knowing smile pushes her dimple deeper into her cheek. Shawn bolts backwards.

"S-Sorry, I wasn't trying to-,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, hoping his thoughts would gather up easier that way. “I'm not- I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry."

"No worries Mendes," Caroline pats his chest. "If I have to pinned against a wall by anyone, I'm fine with it being you."

Shawn shields his face with his hand, which is already starting to get clammy and prickly. "Why do you have to make everything so weird?"

"It’s only weird in your head, Shawn. Come on.” She nods in the direction of the other exit, away from the law school table and the rest of the cafe. “We can go eat on the lawn.”

She trots over to the double doors. Her thick messy curls bounce on her shoulders in a manner that's almost teasing. With one backwards shove, she pushes the door open, making room for Shawn to follow after her. He unbuttons his collar, then trudges through the uncomfortable air he’s made for himself. It amazes him how nothing else in the room changes after an encounter so awkward.

The outdoors presents a hot and dry midday heat. As nice as it would be to sit in the air conditioning and eat, Shawn would rather sweat than be stuck arguing about the ethics of this assigned case with Jared Fucking Price.

“Right over here,” Caroline says.

She’s pointing towards one of the few crepe myrtles on campus in the middle of a green lawn. The tree is still young, so it’s shade is small and requires them to sit close if they want to cool off. She’s already made herself at home on the petals scattered at its roots. In any other setting, this whole picture would seem staged, but Caroline looks like she belongs there more than anyone. Shawn takes this brief moment waiting for her to sit down to observe again. Another nuisance of a sensation settles in his gut. He dismisses it as a hunger pain.

He crouches down at her side stiffly. Even in such limited space, he maintains the usual respectful distance. The shaded parts of the grass are soft and cool beneath his palms. Shawn expected to just eat in silence since that’s usually what happens when he’s out with someone other than Harrison. Every time he’s met with Caroline in the past few days, she’s allowed the silence to happen. Now, she’s practically itching to talk.

“So,” she sighs, “are we gonna talk about what that was?”

“I already said I was sorry. Please drop it.”

“Not that,” she sighs. “You totally ghosted your friends the law majors’ table. Why?”

It almost slips out, how much he hates Jared and his elitist herd of followers. Caroline has this way of talking that makes you forget you have secrets. It’s for this reason that he bites his lower lip and chooses his next words carefully. The law department is already a tough enough crowd without them knowing he doesn’t enjoy their miserable company.

“I didn’t ghost anybody worth calling a friend.”

“Oh,” she says, light and flippant in her tone.

“Oh what?”

“It’s just a little cold,” her eyes skirt around his face. “Even for you.”

“You don’t know them, Caroline.”

She throws her hands up. “Hey, I get it. That law department is quite the dickhead factory.”

He shakes his head, well aware that she was throwing him into that lot. “Touchè,” he mutters.

“You always this distant with peers?”

“Do we have to talk about it?”

“No. We don’t have to talk about it,” she eventually says, and she almost sounds sad when she does. “But Shawn, we’ve had these meetings for a few days now. I get that you don’t talk much, but it’s kind of weird not knowing you at all by now.”

"Funny. I believe I've said more about myself in the last four hours than I've told anyone in the last year."

It’s one of those jokes that Shawn thinks is funny at first until no one laughs. It’s even worse in a conversation with only one other person.

“How generous of you,” she deadpans. For the first time since they’ve met, she sounds genuinely irritated with him.

He looks around the environment as if he’ll find something to talk about there. Nothing appears of course and Caroline is still quietly pulling weeds from the grass. Quiet was the intention, but not if it meant her shutting down. He leans back on his hands in the mulch and dirt to stretch his legs out into the sun.

“I wanted to be a musician, you know.”

Caroline’s ears perk up. “That’s...random.”

“Guitar and piano was as far as I got. Long time ago.”

“Were you any good?”

“I was told I was good. I always thought I could’ve been better.”

She snorts, “Yeah sounds about right.”

“Obviously, I changed my mind. Got into debate and ethics in high school.”

“Is that what changed?”

He nods. “So many times the system gets it wrong and sends innocent people to prison. It’s insane, I mean, the amount of laws we have overlapping and changing everyday would surprise you. No scenario is ever so thought out. Not to mention ethics aren’t always in black and white. I could talk for hours about the-”

Shawn grinds to a halt when he finally notices the smile slowly breaking his face. Caroline’s given him her full attention. Somehow, he’s leaned in closer to her, like he does every time he goes on a tangent.

I’m getting carried away,” he sighs.

“No, it’s wonderful,” Caroline cooed. “I’ve never seen you so happy.”

He cocks his head to one side. “Nobody likes a rambler.”

“Guess that makes me the biggest nobody of all.”

She shoulders his arm, rocking him slightly. Shawn’s ears start to burn. He looks down. Caroline’s sweater sleeve has ended up in the mulch somehow. He carefully picks it up, pulling the wood chips gently from the threads before setting neatly onto her thigh. She doesn’t say a word while this is all happening. In fact, she watches his movements intently. He’s going to ask and she wants to be ready.

“I have a question,” he says. “The other night, when you came back to my room for your sweater, why were you— well I thought you were, I don’t know. Maybe I was seeing things-”

“Bawling my eyes out?”

A faint grimace flashes across Shawn’s face.

“I’m not touchy about it,” she assures him. “Short answer is that it belonged to my mom. Then Dad gave it to me when I graduated high school.”

Shawn steals a look at her and she’s smiling softly. “Can I have the long answer?”

Caroline leans back. “It’s a real sob story,” she says loftily. “I’d hate for you start feeling sorry for me.”

“Please, ‘sorry’ is the last thing I’ll ever feel for you, Caroline,” Shawn quips

“Shawn,” says a familiar voice. “Shawn Mendes?”

Shawn looks up and to his disappointment finds Jared Price standing over them casting a condescending shadow at their feet. The other law majors aren’t far behind, coming closer to their spot under the tree. ...

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