This is Not a Fairytale, page 7
It sure as hell wasn't going to be me enlightening him. As much as Dick deserved a serious ass kicking, I didn't want Dad delivering it. He was old, like forty-one. What if he broke a hip?
I shook my head and dispelled the image of Dad all falling-and-can't-get-up.
An ankle biter in pigtails and pink camo suddenly giggled past, dragging a harried mother behind her. As the mom harpied into her cell, the little girl climbed agile as a monkey up Alice.
Once upon a time, Faith and I had done the same.
Before Derrick but after Dick, before the permanent move to New York but after Mom and Dick's unholy matrimony, Dad brought us into the city to do the tourist thing. Central Park had been one of the first stops. I'd crawled up into Alice's lap, Faith had perched on the mushroom next to the Hatter, and Dad had captured it on Symone's Nikon. That photo was buried deep in my bag somewhere.
It was the inspiration for my first art assignment here. Take a cherished memory and integrate it with fantasy.
I took my A+ project out of the folder in my bag, seeing Alice with that classic blue dress and white pinafore Disney made famous, her black shoes chasing after the White Rabbit in his red waistcoat and swinging pocket watch. Faith and I chased after her, Faith's silver hoops glinting at her ears, my red streaked hair streaming behind me. It was my first attempt with watercolors.
Mom's only comment was that I should've done the tea party scene instead.
As a freshman my style had been more whimsical, more cartoonish, but Ms. Parker molded and shaped my raw talent into something more refined and realistic. I'd lucked out and had her all four years.
"Mama, look!"
I looked even when the mom didn't.
Giggles subdued, the tiny tot had hopped down Alice and now crouched beneath the giant mushroom, peeking over the edge like one of the Wonderland creatures. Her hazel eyes sparkled with wonder, cheeks flushed, her bottom lip caught between her baby teeth as she tippy toed to see Alice.
Without really thinking about it, I had my current sketch book balanced on my lap, a charcoal pencil clutched in my right hand. The statue came to life on paper, Alice presiding over her Wonderland pals from atop her mushroom, arms spread in welcome as bouncy pigtails peeked over the edge at her.
My muse was all over the adorable.
Long after the mom and girl drifted off, I bowed my head over my work, the snow morphing into fluffy dandelion dust, the grass springy and not dead and brittle, leaves sprouting and blooming on the trees. The Cheshire Cat's tail was long and fluffy, the White Rabbit's ears tall and pointy. The Mad Hatter tipped his elaborate top hat to the young girl whose baby Chucks were scuffed and nestled in the deep grass. Her tiny hands grasped the edge of the mushroom, her cheeks flushed not with cold but excitement, eyes wide and shiny with it.
Finished, my muse gave it two thumbs-up in approval. I was generally more critical but I decided to take her word for it this time.
A glance around and I was well and truly alone.
I stuffed everything back into my bag with a sigh.
Springing up from the bench, I saluted Alice and continued my aimless wandering. My prospects seemed pretty bleak at the moment. Unless you counted walking Adrian Howell's German Shepard Beast and Pomeranian Belle as a serious career - and it only averaged about thirty bucks a week so it shouldn't - then I had no cash flow. Unless you counted Matt's sleek leather sofa as a bed - and it so shouldn't because I drooled and drooling on leather meant I got stuck and that hurt - then I had no place to lay my weary head. Besides, I could only lay claim to that couch for another night, until Matt's parents returned from their medical conference tomorrow evening.
So, number one on my to-do list: get a job. Number two: find a humble abode to call my own.
Not asking much here, was I?
When I reached Huddlestone Arch, I sought shelter beneath the boulders and sank to the ground, my legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. Cold immediately seeped through my jeans, freezing my ass bones and spreading quickly to encompass the rest of my bits and pieces. Even though it was nothing more than gravity and pressure holding the whole structure together and it could come tumbling down to bury me in tons of rubble, this was my favorite respite in the park. The sun was setting, streaks of crimson being smudged out by heavy clouds threatening more snow. I didn't have much natural light left.
Key chain with pepper spray within arm's reach, I reclaimed my sketch pad and pencil. Faith had retail therapy; I had my muse. I consoled myself the only way I knew how.
I didn't exactly have a Classifieds ad handy, anyway.
My Bic ignited the end of a cigarette and I inhaled deeply as I contemplated the fresh page. My muse possessed me once more. The Marlboro dangled between my fingers, my arm curved around the top of the book, my back hunched over as my focus narrowed on what the page was revealing to me. It slowly transformed.
A smile with deep dimples and incisors slightly longer than normal, imperfectly perfect in every way.
Extraordinary, otherworldly eyes I was still convinced were contacts.
Flicking the cigarette butt away, I stroked my pinky over my guitarist's smooth cheek to smudge in some shadows.
A real shadow fell over me.
"Damn, killer, who fought back?"
Chapter Eight
Charming
That voice.
It turned me into a big puddle of feels.
Tipping my head back, I looked up, up, up, squinting against the sun's last valiant effort of the day. He was only a silhouette limned in a haze of pale blush and gold but he was unmistakably the same face staring up from my sketch book.
"You should see the other guy." Umm, wait. "Actually, you shouldn't. I think I look worse."
He smiled and my heart somersaulted.
I wasn't the only one affected. My muse, that whore, had already draped herself over a convenient and heavily brocaded fainting couch ass up, glancing over her shoulder with a pouty smile and eyes at half-mast.
Uninvited but so not unwelcome, Caleb sank to the ground beside me.
"Are you stalking me?"
He arched a dark brow. "Would I really confess if I was?"
"Point," I conceded.
It was suspiciously coincidental, though. No matter how much it seemed like destiny, kismet, like it was fucking fated to happen when first our gazes had met, I didn't actually believe that nonsense. I was deeply rooted in reality and no magic beans were being planted to Miracle-Gro some giant's beanstalk here.
He wasn't following me. But... what exactly was he doing here?
I stole a surreptitious peek at him. Unlike at Thrashers, he was already staring back.
Shit. Busted.
My cheeks heated but still I said, "Staring is rude, you know."
"So stop doing it."
"Me?" I scoffed, offended. "You stop."
His smile twitched. "What are you working on?"
Shit again. I slapped the cover over Caleb's charcoaled, smiling face before the real Caleb caught a gander of my muse's obsession with him. "Just, you know, stuff," I mumbled.
"I've never seen someone become that intent and passionate with just, you know, stuff."
My heart leapt ridiculously.
Shadows encroached under my arch. I stared at him in the deepening gloom and he rudely stared back. He sat there, one knee cocked, arm draped over the destructed denim, his other leg stretched out beside mine. His unlaced combat boot and my Chucks looked so good together.
My eyes narrowed on him.
I didn't understand this. He was an assault to all my senses, from the smell of sandalwood wafting from him and tickling my nose, to the devastating sight of him - that smile, those dimples, those eyes, oh my - all the way to his hypnotic voice and beyond. I resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. I'd probably suffer a freaking cerebral meltdown.
I'd kissed many a frog in my time and not a damn one had been a prince. They'd all been slimy and cold-blooded. Not a one had turned me into a swooning, blushing schoolgirl. Why him? Why not Blake? Why not Sir Croaks-a-Lot?
Seriously, dude croaked when he was turned on.
But honestly, I could accept my muse's interest in him. Hell, I could even understand it. What I couldn't fathom was why I had the sudden urge to sniff my pits and make sure Secret was still outlasting. Was the pizza I had for lunch still lingering on my breath? Was anything gross smeared on my face?
Oh, God, my face.
Self-consciously, I probed the swollen flesh. The cold had kind of acted like a local anesthetic, numbing my face, to the point I'd almost forgotten I looked a little Beastly.
Caleb's fingers suddenly brushed against mine, feather light against my cheek. "Total badass," he murmured.
My breath hitched. I made sure to always exude this inner strength but I was afraid scraps of vulnerability slipped out sometimes. I really didn't like that.
"You look like someone pissed in your Cheerios," he said with a short laugh.
"It's been a rough coupla days," I agreed.
His eyebrows popped. "Is there a body count?"
"No, and I also don't currently need bail money so things are starting to look up."
"What's going on?"
I was not the sharing, caring type, but he was so close. It was fucking with my common sense. It was the only explanation I had for what I did while staring into his spectacular silver eyes. I opened my mouth and spilled everything. Every sordid detail spewed out, words power puking past my lips.
There was something seriously cathartic about unloading on a perfect stranger.
When the outpouring sputtered to a stop, I was panting like I'd actually done something strenuous, like run a marathon or retrieve the remote from across the room after I was already nice and comfy on the couch with my Dr. Pepper and Snickers. Caleb considered me for a few minutes, his eyes narrowed. Finally, he hopped to his booted feet and extended a helping hand.
"I think I might be able to help with one of your problems."
Right. Because I had so many of them.
I took his hand.
***
"Red's?"
"Yeah, you been here before?"
"Can't say that I have," I said slowly, gazing up at the silhouetted profile of a girl in a hooded cloak. The window it was canvassed on was opaque so it was impossible to see inside, but the trim of the joint was chromed out and Red's was scripted in a pretty red cursive accented with black curlicues.
An old-fashioned bell jingled as we stepped through the recessed door.
"Oh, wow," I whispered, breathing in deep.
Delicious cholesterol tantalized my nose and triggered my salivary glands. I was talking melting cheddar cheese, frying bacon, buttery buns, and sizzling burgers on the grill, all combined to make me weak kneed and slobbery. It was all those things like carbs, sugars, and high fructose whatever that had been banned from Mom's, everything I'd been denied for far too long.
The diner had a classic style from the fifties, with a black and white checkered tile floor, red and black vinyl booths, and a whole lotta chrome. But a waiter strolled past wearing a snarling wolf on his head. It was a hat, the wolf's tail dangling down his back, yellow eyes narrowed in aggression. Following behind him was a waitress in a red hooded cloak with a wicker basket hanging on her arm.
"What is this place?" I asked Caleb.
"Little Red's," he said simply.
Over the clinking of silverware and plates, over the cacophony of the chattering crowd, a voice called, "Hey, Chuck Berry!"
A smile spread across Caleb's face. "Hey, Louise!"
I followed the direction of his gaze to an older woman behind the counter. She was wearing a black Red's T-shirt bearing the same profile from the window, salt and pepper hair up in a messy ponytail. Swaying to the tune of Bowling For Soup's "Lil' Red Riding Hood," she was filling ketchup and mustard bottles.
Turning to him, I rubbed my palm against my thigh. Another anomaly, it was still tingling from his touch.
"I'm guessing we're not here for the daily special."
"No, but you really should try the Cherry Red Cobbler," he suggested.
Duly noted. "What are we doing here, Caleb?"
"Potentially getting you a job."
"Here?"
His smile twitched again. "Yes, here. I have one condition before you speak with Louise, though."
"What kind of condition, stranger danger?" I demanded with narrowed eyes.
He met my gaze and his smile faded. "You're a senior, right? Meaning you only have a few months left until you graduate. Do yourself a favor and stay in school. I'm speaking from experience and it's so much more difficult to go back than it is to just stay."
My mouth gaped open. "That was unexpected," I said. And a little (lot) touching.
"Agree," he prompted. "Or I'll give you a bad personal reference."
I agreed and Caleb led me across the diner to Louise. We took seats at the counter and I saw another waiter, this one dressed in a wolf hat that wore a bonnet, carrying a tray laden with plates steaming with yummy goodness. The fry cook and assorted others were wearing the black T-shirts bearing the diner's name and Little Red's profile but the waiters out front dressed as Red, the Wolf, the Wolf as Granny, Granny, and the Lumberjack.
It was awesome.
"Want your usual, Caleb?" Louise asked.
"You know it."
"I need a Big Bad Wolf!" she hollered to the back.
"Coming up!" someone hollered back.
"It's a fully loaded double cheeseburger," Caleb explained.
"It's also absolutely delicious," Louise added. "In my humble opinion at least. Who'd you bring to see me, Caleb?"
"Harmony, this is Louise Tanner, the mastermind behind Red's. Louise, this is Harmony Wagers, your newest manual laborer."
"Is that so?" she mused, focusing a gimlet stare on my battered, bruised face. I tried not to fidget. "Are you wanted?"
"Always," I said automatically.
She cracked a smile.
"Seriously, though, I have community service and a fine to pay off. Hence the need for meager restitution."
"Meager is right," she agreed. "You have experience?"
"Work experience? Not exactly."
"Well, I admire your honesty," she said dryly. "What do you think, Caleb?"
He glanced sideways at me. "I think she deserves a chance."
I mouthed a "thank you" at him.
Louise grilled me with the finesse of a woman who'd spent years flipping burgers. In the middle of my informal interview, my phone vibrated against my hip but I ignored it. I doubted it would be very professional to check my messages while Louise was considering me for a prospective job.
Lips pursed, eyes narrowed, she deliberated the pros and cons of hiring an inexperienced, no filtered teenager. I wouldn't hire me. "Red is quitting in a week," she said finally. "I need someone to replace her."
I held my breath. My phone vibrated again.
She grinned. "When can you start?"
"Before that cloak gets cold," I said immediately.
With a chuckle, Louise said she would be right back and shouldered her way into the kitchen, heading for her office to get paperwork for me to fill out. I swiveled to face Caleb. He was halfway through his burger by now. Incidentally, it was bigger than his face.
"You're pretty awesome, Chuck Berry," I told him.
He snorted a laugh. "Just don't forget our deal."
"I won't," I promised. And I wouldn't.
While Louise was otherwise occupied, I withdrew my phone and checked my messages. Three more texts had come in. Faith had blown my phone up.
Just heard, Harm.
Call me.
NOW.
Harmony Elizabeth Wagers!
Stop ignoring me.
I sighed and fired off a quick response.
Don't get your tubes all in a knot, Prego.
You are so weird, was her reply.
She said that like it was a bad thing.
Derrick and I want you to come stay with us, she continued.
My phone dropped back to my lap.
I glanced up as Louise returned. Borrowing her black ballpoint, I began on the paperwork, but I couldn't say I was giving it my undivided attention. That could've been my "current" address I was scribbling, or it could've been the lyrics of "Bad Moon Rising."
Living with Dick had been the frying pan.
Why did I get the feeling life with Faith and Derrick would be the fire?
Chapter Nine
Madder Than the Hatter
Two months later, Faith found me in the kitchen shoving leftover cupcake in my face at the ass crack of dawn.
"Really, Harmony?"
"Somewhere it's someone's birthday."
Faith grimaced but it made total sense to me. Besides, the cupcakes would only be going to waste if I wasn't Hoovering them up. Everything even remotely tasty made Faith nauseous and Derrick was off desserts. Someone had to eat them. I licked buttercream frosting from my lips.
Derrick stepped up to Faith's side. "Harmony, you need to clean out the nursery sometime today."
"I finally decided on Sea Frolic Blue," Faith added, proudly presenting the paint sample to me.
"Isn't the nesting phase supposed to kick in five months from now?" I asked. "You were only given a ninety-nine point nine percent guarantee that you have testicles in your womb. What if she's just very confused?"
"It's called being prepared," Faith said.
"It's called being neurotic," I countered.
Derrick's eyes would've rolled if he had an expressive face. "Regardless, we need you to clean your things out. The painters will be arriving in the morning."
"I picked up an extra shift today," I told him, tossing the cupcake wrapper into the trash. The icing went splat on a... wait, what was a course catalog for New York University doing in there? "Plus I wanna see Dad before he and Symone leave. I'll clear everything out tonight."
Faith sniffed her disbelief.
"I will," I insisted.
"Be sure to," Derrick said.
I gave him the one finger salute as he turned to walk away. Faith's eyes widened and she slapped my hand down, her jaw clenched.
