Who Wants to Live Forever

I managed to pick myself up, dust myself off and try to forget about what happened back at Southside. I hopped the bus to the mall and stole some concealer from a makeup kiosk while the attendant’s back was turned giving somebody’s pinky nail a free buff job. I also took the time to lift a few cell phones in the food court from some spoiled brats that thought they were perfectly safe in their manicured world. One of them had a train pass in the case.

Number one rule of jacking phones: Always take it out of the case.

For one, most people stashed cards, cash and all kinds of valuables in there. Two, without the case they couldn’t identify the phone from a distance. Most times you could just walk away like you’re texting somebody on it and they wouldn’t even know.

I decided to take the train home that day using Priscilla Mabry’s train pass. Any time I was on the train, I tried to get into the tightest crowds possible. I really hated crowds, but your odds of finding some handsy fucker were pretty high downtown.

You hunt for the pervs.

They’re usually buttoned down, married looking types with horn-rimmed glasses acting like they’re too good to stare at their phone in a crowded place. You get in close and before you know it, they’re getting off on the fact that you’re pretending you don’t notice their dick grinding into you. Then the inevitable game of grab ass while you bite your lip and look away.

They don’t even notice you taking their shit. Most of them think you’re just playing along like all the girls in their fantasies.

That leads me to my second rule. Never steal near where you live. I learned that lesson the hard way.

Getting tuned up behind a pizza joint by a full grown man isn’t exactly what I’d call therapeutic. You steal shit from people, they take it really personal. It’s the kind of violation that makes a man that’s never hit a woman in his life forget about chivalry and put your ass in the hospital.

I wasn’t a stranger to pain. I could always tell the people that wanted to take it there before it happened. A person gets a different look in their eyes when they want to do you harm. It’s one I’ve come to know well. All you can do is try to run. If you can’t get away, then you figure out if they’re the kind that just wants to humiliate you or the kind that wants to hurt you.

I figured out the difference between the two in prison.

I managed to swipe enough money to get my fix. And thank God, my body was aching like crazy by the time I hit up the Tambourine Man. I didn’t even make it home. I found a bathroom that didn’t have a mirror in it, locked myself in a stall and used my backpack strap to find a vein.

I didn’t even realize how much time I lost. By the time I woke up and walked out of that bathroom the sun was going down.

I walked eight blocks to the repair shop on eleventh. I still had a bit of cash left over, so I picked up a few essentials.

“Hey, Charlie.” The Asian man standing at the front counter said as I walked in.

“Hey, Mikey. How’s your Ma?” I asked, walking down one of the isles over to the small tool kits hanging on shelf pegs.

“She’s good. She’s real good. Been up to much?” He asked, leaning on the glass counter.

Mike was sweet on me back in high school. Back when I was a different person. Nothing was happening there though. He had a gorgeous wife, two pudgy little kids, and three repair shops. Plus his wife led my addiction meetings and on more than one occasion the two of them had to come help me out of a jam.

Even if I wanted to, it’s kinda hard to steal a man that knows you drink half a bottle of whiskey and shoot heroin to go to sleep at night.

He wasn’t rolling in dough, but he was certainly doing better than a lot of people we went to school with. Hell, I didn’t even graduate. I got kicked out of school my junior year for doing what I do best.

Fucking up.

“I’m as good as I get.”

“Right, right. I hear that.” He smiled.

“What time you closing up?” God, I was terrible at small talk.

“Bout an hour. I’m calling it early tonight. Wife wants to go see a show. Mom’s got the kids tonight, so y’know. Date night. Been a while.” He replied, busying himself with straightening stuff on the front counter.

“Oh, I see where that’s goin’. You breakin’ out the Get Some Nookie Playlist?”

Mike laughed, “You know it! See if the wife wants to go half on another baby.”

“Alright. Keep that up and number 3 might turn out like me.”

“I’m not that unlucky,” we both laughed a little.

I found what I was looking for. A toolkit for phone repair. It had all the essential tiny bits, two small screwdrivers, and a magnetic screw mat. I headed up to the front and sat it down on the counter.

“You don’t wanna just borrow mine?” He asked and I shook my head.

“Nah. I got a little extra cash. Might as well just buy one. You still buying parts?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Should I ask where they’re coming from?”

“No,” I looked up.

I saw his eyes dart down to the toolkit as he rang me out.

Mike and I would never be friends. We came from two different worlds. He was always good at reading people though. We looked each other in the eyes one time and the whole thing just got really awkward. I’m just thankful he understood without me having to say a thing.

“Yeah. That’s fine. Just don’t expect top dollar for ’em. I gotta strip usable chips off the board and dump the rest. Then it’s just charging ports, LCDs, screws and buttons.”

“I know. Thanks.”

I took out a man’s wallet to pay for it and not my usual duct tape one.

“Cash, right?” He confirmed, not wanting to take a stolen credit card.

“Yeah, yeah. Can you get rid of some shit for me?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, and I took the time to strip the wallets out.

He never wanted to deal with cards or IDs. I took those and gave him the three leather wallets I’d lifted. I knew before the day was over they’d be in the incinerator. The IDs and Cards I’d melt down myself in the barrel behind my building back home.

“Hey. You got a computer I can get off you? Doesn’t have to be fancy. Just something to get on the internet.”

“I mean, most everything I got’s gonna cost you something. I got an old laptop in the back I can’t do anything with, though. It works but let me tell you... it’s held together with duct tape, hopes, and dreams. Some guy brought it in for our recycle program.”

“How much?”

“Nothin’,” he shrugged. “Like I said, I can’t do anything with it. Not worth my time recycling, can’t rebuild it and sell it, it’s too old. We checked it out though, it goes okay.”

“Cool,” I nodded. “Hey, tell Juli I’ll be at the next meeting, alright?”

“I was gonna ask you about that.” He said, concern in his voice. “She said she hadn’t seen you in a while, but she figured you stopped by.”

“Yeah? What gave me away?” I asked.

“Your favorite food is always missing.” He smiled.

“Oh... yeah, tell her, sorry.” I said, embarrassment burning on my cheeks.

“No, no. It’s cool. She’s just happy you’re eating. She makes me go to Fatty’s Bakery over on Bleaker for ’em.”

“Yeah... I love Fatty’s. Can’t always afford ’em.”

“I figured. Butterscotch glazed and cannolis, right?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, feeling guilty.

“Nothing to feel bad about. She figures you’ll come in when you’re ready.”

“I just didn’t have the heart to tell her I... Anyway, you didn’t tell her I’m selling you hot parts, did you?” I asked, changing the subject.

We both know what happened.

I relapsed.

Again.

“No, nothing like that. Just I’m seeing you a little more frequently and she’s not seeing you at all... She’s worried about you.”

“I’m good,” I nodded and he mirrored the gesture.

The silence was deafening. He knew I was lying.

Around this time last year, I called Mikey from a street corner after my ex-boyfriend got done kicking the shit out of me. We broke up because he swore I shot up his stash. He put his cigarette out on my neck and threw me out.

Max wouldn’t answer.

Mikey and Juli were the ones that took me to the hospital.

“Cool.” He said finally. “Well, hey. Lemme get that laptop for you.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, suddenly self-conscious about the way I looked. I almost forgot I had gotten high just a couple hours ago. And that concealer was clumsily hiding bruises on my face.

When he stepped into the back, I preened at my bushy hair and straightened my clothes a little.

He came out and held the laptop out to me.

It was definitely not the slim, sleek looking machines you usually see in electronics ads in the Sunday circular. It looked its age and had a strip of gray duct tape across the back of it, holding the lid on the LCD.

“It’s not much, but... like I said, it works.” He said and I took it.

“No, it’s good. Look, thanks, Mikey. Tell Juli I said hi, alright?”

I pushed the toolkit and laptop with its charger into my bag and uncrumpled a bunch of balled up bills from my pocket to add to what came out of the stolen wallets.

“Yeah, I will. Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked.

I saw his eyes searching my face. Looking at my bruises.

“Take care of those kids,” I offered a weak smile and turned to head out.

“Yeah, alright. Be safe, Charlie. If you need us, you know where we are.”

The jingling bell above the door rattled as I left.

* * *

The next few days I spent scrambling.

I found a folding chair outside and brought it home to make a makeshift desk out of my dresser. I had the laptop propped open so I could watch teardown videos online for all the phones I stole. I couldn’t afford anti-static bags, but a tip about a roll of Kapton tape and regular Ziploc sandwich baggies I found in a web search did the trick.

Even after I took all the parts back to Mikey’s shop I was still short two-hundred dollars. Let alone my phone bill and the lights. I still needed another three-hundred to cover everything. Not including food. And not including next month’s rent that’d be due a few days after I paid this month.

Worry sat in my stomach like I was pregnant with a baby made out of stone. I tried calling my family again, but that was no use. Every call went straight to voicemail.

Except Max.

She was nice enough to answer.

“Yes, Charlie?”

She never answered the phone for me like I heard her answer it for everyone else. We weren’t personal friends. We were barely sisters. She tolerated me and it was clear in her motherly tone.

“Hey, Maxie... how ya doin’?”

“I’m good,” she said.

I could hear a man’s voice in the background.

“Just hang up the phone, Max. C’mon.” He bitched in a tired whisper. “It’s six in the morning.”

“Why are you up so early?” Max asked me, genuine concern in her voice, ignoring the man in the background.

“You two are on sleep-over status now, huh? I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“It’s fine,” she cut me off. I could hear her moving around. Likely going into another room.

“It doesn’t sound fine. I can call back if you want,” I knew she didn’t want me to.

“No, it’s alright. What’s going on?” She asked in her proper, suburban voice. I bet her new boo probably had no idea we were from New York the way she managed to swallow her accent and forget all about it. She sounded like a different person to me.

“Nothin’. Can I come over later?”

“If you want. After seven though, please. It’s my last day off and Marc and I are going to dinner.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem. Is he gonna be there?” I didn’t want anybody else around when I begged my sister for money. I figured the fewer people around to help her tell me no, the better.

“No. He’s headed back home after dinner. He lives upstate.”

“Oh, okay. Well, maybe we could watch a movie or somethin’?”

She sighed, “are you in jail?”

“No. I mean, not yet,” I forced a laugh. “How could I come over if I’m locked up?”

“Charlie.”

Here we go. She was going to preach at me.

“Every time you come over, it’s never to just hang out with your big Sis. I’m either patching you up or holding your hair back while you puke in my toilet and lie to me about how it’s the last time. You obviously want something.”

“It’s not like that, I promise.”

“It’s not? Well, let me remind you. I’m a psychologist, not a psychiatrist. I can’t write you prescriptions for drugs.”

“Not that either. Would you just hear me-,”

“I will not, Charlie. Look, I love you. I really do. And unlike the rest of our family, while my knee jerk reaction is to hate, I understand that emotion is directed at what you did. Not who you are. That said, I’m not going to let you lie to me either. It isn’t healthy. Now, again, what do you want?”

I was afraid to say it. Hesitation was clear in my voice.

“My rent’s due tomorrow and I don’t have anybody else to turn to. I’ve been tryin’ really hard to make it, I swear.”

“I gave you the number to the employment office.”

“I’m a felon.”

“Half the people they employ are felons. They just aren’t practicing addicts who can’t pass a drug screen. There’s a difference.”

“I’m clean,” I argued back.

“No you’re not, Charlie,” she said.

Her voice was soft then. Disappointed.

It hurt my heart to hear it. A feeling that only got worse the longer the silence on the line carried on. I seemed to spend my life disappointing people.

“I’m not giving you any money.” She said, finally breaking the silence.

“But-”

“But nothing, Charlotte.”

She used my real name.

Fuck.

“Max, I really need this. I know I lied to you before. I’m sorry. I’m not gonna spend it on drugs again. I swear, trust me. I won’t mess up.”

“You always swear. I can’t trust you.”

“Yes you can, just give me a chance!”

“I did give you a chance. Multiple. You and I both know you’re a liar. You’ll say anything to get what you want.”

“This time I’m not ly-”

“I refuse to be responsible for your death.”

“I-”

“Go back to bed, Charlotte. You sound tired.”

The line went dead.

“Hello? Max!?”

I stared at my busted up phone. The screen had black spots all over it from the girl that stomped it at Southside High but I could clearly see the two words that said the call ended. It was cracked before but now it was worse. I tried to call Max back but she sent me straight to voicemail three times.

I threw my phone into the bedsheets beside me.

A baritone voice startled me and I nearly fell out of bed.

“You really do look tired.”

“Fuck!” I yelled, balling up my blankets to try to hide.

“Hey, kiddo.” He chuckled.

“Jesus, Stag!” I said, throwing my blankets off of me.

I knew I was a sight for sore eyes in sweat pants and ironically enough a faded Southside High School t-shirt.

Stagger Lee had appeared from nowhere in the corner of my room just as he had last time. His mouth was pulled into a boyish smile as he laughed.

I threw him a baleful look as he shrugged off his dark peacoat and slung it over the arm of my loveseat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I brought you some coffee though.”

He pulled two trendy looking coffee cups from a drink holder positioned on the arm of the loveseat next to his coat. He walked over to my window and took a sip from his, holding the other cup out for me.

“Thanks. I don’t drink coffee.” I said, perturbed.

“Why do you lie so much?” He asked and I went quiet, thinking about that.

I walked over to him and took the cup.

“I’m not lyin’.”

“Charlie, there’s a coffee cup in your garbage can.” He said in a sarcastic monotone.

“Get out.”

“Make me.”

“Fine. I’ll leave.” I barked back and stomped barefoot towards the door.

“You should probably put on some shoes.”

I growled at him and headed for the bathroom, twisting my face up, mocking his words with sarcastic bitterness.

“Oh, way to be childish.”

“Fuck you.”

“There’s her favorite word.” He laughed as I slammed the door.

I heard him walk closer and leaned against my side of the door for good measure.

Stagger gave the door a soft knock.

“Are you mad?”

I looked at the cup of coffee in my hand. I could feel it’s warmth through the cup and I couldn’t deny that I really wanted it.

But screw him, I burst the cup in the tub.

“Guess so. Let’s see if your stomach feels the same way. You hungry?”

My stomach gave a plaintive groan at the thought of food.

My last good meal got me beat up by teenagers a week ago. After that, every other meal was whatever I managed to grab at a gas station. Last night’s dinner was a microwavable mac and cheese bowl from the dollar store. It’d be nice to sit down and eat real food.

“No,” I said after a long, telling pause.

I heard his contagious laugh again and smiled a little.

“Alright. Well, I’m gonna go get a short stack of pancakes and bacon. You stay here and pout.”

I yanked the bathroom door open.

He looked back at me.

“Lemme get my shit.”

“Take your time,” He sipped his coffee and went back to the window.

Stagger didn’t look back once while I got dressed. While that was surprising, I was more surprised at the fact that I was angry about it. He made me feel self-conscious. Like maybe there was something wrong with me. If he was some kind of gentleman I’d never know. I didn’t have much basis for comparison. My last few boyfriends weren’t the nice kind.

They kept me high though.

Back then I used to eat enough pills in the morning to get full.

Looking over at him standing in that window though, he made me think of my dad. Looking out the window like a vigilant protector.

I remember my dad standing at the window in my room back when I had nightmares, sipping his usual late night coffee, letting me know nothing was gonna hurt me.

I shook the thought out of my head and took a quick shower.

I pulled on some freshly washed baggy sweatpants and I tried not to think about the fact that they had the word love on the ass. I got them from the flea market. They were gray with blue writing and white piping down the flanks. The kind of thing you’d expect to see someone wearing on laundry day.

I pulled a blue cut off shirt over my head, tugged some high-top sneakers on my feet and wrangled my hair up with dark hair pins into a big, curly, 1980s mohawk.

I yanked a black, rubber wrist band around my right wrist and pushed a couple of cheap thumb rings onto my fingers, then pulled a sports sleeve over my left arm to hide the track marks.

Stagger finally turned around and looked me over. His mouth shrugged down as if he was surprised I cleaned up alright.

I opened one of my dresser drawers and pulled out a bottle of prescription pills.

“Klonopin?” He asked.

“Yeah... so?” I said, staring at him, waiting for him to judge me.

He didn’t say anything right away, so I took two pills and shotgunned them without a drink. I didn’t have anything to put in my veins. Klonopin was the next best thing to stave off the cravings. The body aches.

“Nothing.” He said, and I heard the disappointment in his voice.

I hated that sound.

You’d think at some point I’d stop making it come out of people.

A few minutes later I was on my way down the stairs.

Jack looked up from his seat at the desk in that tiny office. He had a hopeful smile for me and I offered him a wave on my way by.

“Hey, Charlie.” He called, and I stopped.

Stagger leaned against the door but didn’t say a word.

“You headed out already?”

My eyes didn’t meet his but I could feel him searching my face. I nodded.

“Yeah. My friend here’s taking me to breakfast.”

Jack looked around.

“You meeting them there?”

I glanced over at Stagger and it only then became clear to me that Jack couldn’t see him.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Mind a tagalong?” He asked, “I can wrap up here and go with you.”

“No,” I said, maybe too quickly, “we’re gonna be talking about some personal shit. It’s not that kinda party.”

“Oh,” he nodded, “Okay. Well, maybe another time.”

There was that disappointed sound again.

“Yeah. Maybe.” I pushed my way out of the door to escape. Stagger closed it behind us and trotted down the short steps ahead of me.

“That kid likes the shit out of you.”

“Yeah, I know.” I blew a sigh.

The morning was chilly, but not uncomfortable. It was gonna be freezing cold soon. Probably in another month and a half.

“He’s not that much younger than you,” Stag said and I laughed.

“Yeah, right. You and I both know I’d ruin that kid’s life.”

“If you say so. I think you’re a little too hard on yourself.”

“Don’t give me a pep talk, Stagger,” I lit a cigarette.

“He’s a damn sight better than your last boyfriend.”

“Sounding stalkerish, Stag. Not helpin’,”

I blew smoke out of my nose as we headed to the bus stop.

“Right,” he said through a laugh.

“Why are you always laughin’? You walk around grinnin’ like a damn idiot all the time like life is some great big fuckin’ joke.”

“It is most of the time. ’Specially here,” he said, still smiling.

I looked up at his chin.

Or I tried to.

He dipped his head down to look me right in the eyes and I almost snapped my neck trying to look away.

“Stop it!” I said, rebuke strong in my voice.

“Sorry,” he replied, his tone soft.

Neither one of us said a thing while we waited for the bus. Or even after it arrived and we got on.

For my part, I was more afraid I’d look like a crazy person talking to myself. For his, I suspected he felt a little awkward for forcing me to look him in the eyes. Every guy that got close to me always tried it. They always wanted to try and Meet Cute me like a fucking Hollywood movie.

We sat in silence almost the whole time at that diner. Stagger was afraid to find my eyes. He kept finding other things to look at as he sawed away at his pancakes. I just sat there feeling bad for yelling at him. I watched him dip bacon in his syrup and avoided doing the same thing.

I wanted to so bad.

It’d been a long time since I sat down and had a real breakfast. I wasn’t much of a cook so most times I tried eggs at home I ended up eating shells and too much pepper. The eggs on my plate were perfect though. They were light and fluffy and the cook mixed milk in with them just like I asked. My pancakes were moist and fat, the sausage on my plate sat there like three well-sizzled fingers, right next to the bacon I’d asked them to fry almost black.

We ate for twenty minutes before either of us said a word.

“So you’re invisible most of the time... but you’re visible for food?” I asked, trying to break the quiet between us.

“No, I’m visible for bacon.”

“Fat kid.”

“Hey, I’m a growing boy. Besides, I doubt NEST is hanging out at a random breakfast house twenty minutes from the projects.”

“That’s fair,” I said, shrugging with my eyebrows.

Silence followed again.

“So do you have any good memories?” He asked.

My fork stopped for a moment.

“Y’mean lately?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, stuffing another forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

“Yeah,” I said, continuing to eat.

He wanted me to describe them.

I didn’t.

“Okay.” He said with a resigned shrug.

I smiled.

“Oh. I think that’s one of three whole smiles I’ve seen total. Careful, I think your face might start bleeding.” He pointed his syrupy knife at me.

“Shut up,” my smile got bigger all on its own.

He tore another piece of bacon off and dipped it in syrup, smiling back at me.

I finally broke off a piece of bacon and did the same, nibbling at the syrupy bit of fried meat.

Stagger lifted his hands and clasped his fingers in front of his face. All I could see was his mischievous hazel eyed squint behind them. His expressive eyebrows were talking for him.

“What?” I asked with a mouthful of eggs.

“So when you were locked up. Did you have a prison wife?”

“Really?” I lowered my fork.

“What? Inquiring minds wanna know. I’ve seen those women’s prison movies,” his eyebrows waggled salaciously.

“There’s something wrong with your head.”

“Oh, tons. I’ve accepted it. So?”

“No, not really. I mean, I guess that kinda shit happens at some prisons, but... it was more like this really fucked up sisterhood, y’know? There were rules and stuff, but we all kinda looked out for each other after a while. New Booty had it the worst.”

“New Booty?” He asked, thinking he’d found a dirty nugget of truth in my words.

“That’s just what new girls were called. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

I finished off my bacon and sausage and started on my hashbrowns. I was trying to take my time and eat. The pressure of having someone eating with me made me civil. Normally I’d have shoveled all of it into my mouth in three or four minutes out of habit. Prison taught me to eat fast if I intended to eat at all.

“Okay, so what’s being New Booty like?” He asked, constructing a bacon half sandwich with his toast.

“Rough,” I said back after a thoughtful pause.

He looked at me.

“Yeah? What about you? You were New Booty once.”

I twisted my lips.

“Look at me. You see how small I am? How do you think it went?”

“Oh... Sorry.”

“I went straight from the hospital to jail and from jail to prison after... that night. With my wrap sheet, the judge buried me. Not that I blame her.”

I stared at the rest of my food.

He didn’t press me.

“The first night I was so scared I couldn’t eat. Girls were cat-calling at me all day. Shoving me around, taking my food. Practically everybody in there said they were gonna fuck me. Told me pretty girls like me get raped or shanked if we don’t wanna fuck. I mean, I found out it was all scare tactics for newbies, but that first day I didn’t know. All I knew is they were about to throw me in a cell with a homicidal animal with my jaw wired shut and no way to call for help.”

“Fuck,” Stagger said.

“Yeah. Fuckin’ right. All I wanted to do was climb into bed and hope to god I woke up from a nightmare. That night my celly makes me take the top bunk. Obviously, I don’t argue. I just got my little ass up there and shut up.”

I stabbed at my pancake before going on.

“Lights go out, she yanks me off it onto the concrete floor. Tells me to get up and put my hands on my head. So I do. She asks a question.”

“A question?”

“Yeah. Face or gut.”

“Oh.” He nodded, looking away from me.

“Yeah. Like I said, my jaw was wired shut. I broke it in the car accid-... I broke it.”

I blew a short sigh.

“So I said gut.” I poked at my food some more, “I said gut every time.”

Stagger stirred his coffee to avoid looking at me.

“You don’t have to tell me anymore if you don’t want,” he said.

“It’s fine.” I shrugged, “We played twenty questions til I puked up my protein shake through my nose pretty much every night.”

“Jesus. Don’t they have like guards or something?”

“None that cared. Let the animals kill the animals. It didn’t go on long though. After a couple weeks of taking my New Booty medicine, gettin’ tuned up, sleeping on the floor, giving her my snacks and shit, it just stopped. It was all about learning my place is all. Bottom of the food chain. After that, we were pretty tight. I rolled with her crew and nobody fucked with me. I did my time.”

“That’s pretty fucked up, Charlie.”

“It’s the world. Nobody said it had to be nice.”

“True Life, The Charlie Ryan Story.” Stagger said.

I laughed and threw a wedge of toast at him.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here. I got a big day ahead of me.”

“Yeah? What’s on the agenda?” He asked.

“I gotta come up with enough money to take care of the rest of this month’s rent, next month’s rent, my phone bill, and the light bill.”

“And get high,” Stagger added.

I opened my mouth to say something, my eyes moved from the table to the window and I felt my shoulders drop on their own.

“You takin’ shots at me now?”

“No.” He replied, his voice soft.

“Yeah, whatever. Look, thanks for breakfast. I gotta catch the train.”

“Hey, don’t do that.”

“Do what, Stagger?” I said, trying to hide the fact that he’d hurt my feelings.

“That thing where you shut down and try to play tough. I wasn’t trying to bust your balls.”

“Yeah, well you did. Okay?” I looked him right in the eyes.

For a second.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yeah,” I said, but the word was hollow. “I gotta see if I can catch my sister at work.”

“Max? I thought she already said no.”

“No. Andy.”

“Oh. Yeah, good luck with that.” He said, his eyes widening sarcastically.

“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me. You think I’m a bitch, wait til you meet her.”

“Wait, you want me to come?” He asked.

“I obviously can’t stop you.”

“Yes you can, Charlie.” He watched me stand up from the booth, his eyes burning the side of my face.

“Uh-huh,” I said.

He looked down and laughed at the covert middle-finger I’d raised below his vision.

“Nice.”

“Stop starin’ so hard.”

“You’re easy to look at.”

I felt my cheeks warm and I lowered my hand. I opened my mouth a few times to say something but instead, I just started walking towards the door.

“Pay the bill.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Stagger chuckled.

* * *

It was 10:00 AM when we got to the law offices of Horowitz & Greene. Standing outside of it, both of us looked up at the building, tracing its windows up until the building narrowed in our vision. Even the big, gaudy push bars on the door looked expensive. It was a tall, narrow building that sat in the middle of the financial district. It used to be the headquarters of the Tribune years ago but after the internet publication boom, it ended up getting renovated and repurposed. Now it stood in contrast, it’s outside one of classic architecture, it’s inside likely stuffed to bursting with Ivy League employees and state of the art everything.

“Your sister works here?” Stagger asked, sounding impressed. “Jesus. I really need to consider changing careers.”

“What? Chroma God doesn’t offer 401k?”

“Not at all. I get a pretty modest budget for these little trips to come keep an eye on you.”

“Ohh, Big Daddy’s got a company card, too?” I teased.

“That’s why they pay me the moderate bucks,” Stagger said.

He reached up and tugged a strand of my curly mohawk.

“Ow.”

“C’mon.” He nudged his head towards the doors and we both headed in.

Stagger followed me inside as I pushed one of those massive swinging doors open, it’s frosted glass hiding the opulent inside of the lobby from the both of us.

Smooth, polished wooden floors bounced light from the expensive looking fixtures back upward. Golden light bounced all around the huge space and shined from minimalistic sconces on the wall. A wide, curving desk rested in the middle of the room, and behind it, a large statue of Blind Justice stood looming, her promise of fair and balanced law held aloft.

If only justice were just as blind for Re-Cars.

We crossed the lobby, walking towards the curving reception desk and already I could see the look on the man’s face that sat there. He was shaking his head, his lips twisted to one side. His security uniform was just as crisp and clean as the rest of the lobby he watched over. His hair was smoothed back, well groomed, as was his face.

“Hey, Travis.”

“Charlie,” he sighed, “What are you doin’ here?”

“Just stoppin’ by. Can I see her?” I asked.

“That depends. You gonna break anything this time?” He tilted his head, looking up at me. The look on his face suggested he wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said.

“C’mon, man. That was a really long time ago. I haven’t been back here since, gimme a break.” I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, well, I’m not supposed to let you in the building.”

“Really?” I sighed, “Just tell her I need to see her, please?”

“No.”

“Please! Look, it’s a matter of life or death here, alright?” I placed my hands on the counter.

I couldn’t look at him. It was much more comfortable to look at the back of his computer screen.

“Whatever. You act stupid in my building again, I don’t care who you’re related to. I’m gonna send a couple guys up there with batons and they’re gonna thump ya. Understood?”

“Yeah. I’ll be good,” I nodded. “I swear.”

Travis picked up the phone and pressed a few buttons.

“Your sister is here to see you.”

I looked over to see Stagger looking around the lobby like a teenage girl walking into Neiman Marcus for the first time. He walked over to the wall and looked up at one of the minimal sconces.

“Oh, this is beautiful. This is just beautiful. Do you see these things? Fuck, that’s gotta cost a fortune.”

“Shh-shut up.” I hissed.

Travis shrugged his shoulders at me.

“Charlie Ryan,” he covered the mouthpiece on the phone, “Sorry, I gotta tell her.”

I let him think I was talking to him.

“He can’t hear me either,” Stagger said.

“So I gathered,” I said to the both of them, looking around the lobby.

Travis hung up the phone after a long silence and nudged his head towards the etched metal doors of the elevators.

“Someone’s coming down to escort you up.”

“Thanks, Trav.”

“Yup.”

Stagger and I walked towards the elevators with the H&G emblem carved into them and waited.

“What’s up with you and cops?” Stagger asked, his voice a whisper.

“Travis is a security guard.” I corrected him, whispering back.

“Security guards too.”

“I dunno. They piss me off. Always showing up acting like I’m the problem.”

“You’d get hurt a lot less if you stopped resisting arrest.”

“How would you know?”

“I dunno,” Stagger shrugged, “Every time I see you get arrested you always try to run or fight the police like it’s gonna get you anywhere.”

“Wait, so you watched cops beat my ass and didn’t do anything?” I looked over at him.

“I’m supposed to be invisible, remember.” Stagger smiled.

“You’re sick.”

“Am not.”

“No, you’re sick. You’re fuckin’ sick. I can’t believe you.”

“Am not.”

“You gotta be kiddin’ me. What good are you?”

“More good than you realize. You’re still alive aren’t you?”

“Depends on your definition of livi-” the elevator doors rolled open and I went quiet.

Inside a manicured woman stood, waiting for me. I recognized her face right away.

Candice Miller was an Ivy League princess who went to school with me and Bobby. She was a stuck up, paid up little trollop whose parents moved her swiftly through the High School circuit with the best tutors money could buy. Perfect ACT and SAT scores, hell she even took all the best extracurriculars both in school and out.

Her graduation present was Equestrian classes and a horse. Naturally, Harvard was her next stop and standing in front of me now in her expensive suit, perfect lipstick and that look on her face that said she was better than me, she looked it.

We stepped onto the elevator, Stagger moving to one side, leaning quietly in the corner. I did my best to avoid looking her in the eyes, instead opting to look down as she pressed the button for Andy’s floor.

She stepped inside of my personal space just as I felt the odd shift in my stomach from the elevator beginning to rise.

“Ms. Ryan.” She said in greeting.

“Hey, Candy,” I said, looking everywhere but at her.

“Candice.” She corrected me.

“Yeah, that too. Sorry.”

“You smell like cigarettes and outside.” She said, her face screwed up in disgust.

My eyebrows gave a quirk, my lips tightening. I forced myself not to ball up my fists.

“What? Does that make you mad?”

I finally looked up at her and she gave me a smug smile.

She took a step closer. I examined her face, looked her up and down, my dark eyes still avoiding hers.

She got even closer. Right in my face.

She was only a few inches taller than me but somehow, intimidation crept into my bones and my eyes retreated.

“You want to hit me, don’t you?” Acid was in her tone.

“No.” I lied.

“Sure you do. Don’t worry. You can.” she lifted her hands, straightening my shirt and brushing my shoulders off.

I felt my top lip twitch.

“Do it.” She said, her voice tight. Threatening.

I snapped my gaze back up to her, but only for a moment.

“Don’t, Charlie. She’s fucking with you.” Stagger said.

Candice smiled at me in her smart little jacket and pencil skirt.

“Just what I thought. The little hoodrat is all bark and no bite.” She lifted a finger and tapped the end of my nose.

My head flinched back and she let out a little chuckle, stepping back away from me just as the doors rolled open. I dropped my stare to the floor and stepped out of the elevator into that mahogany hallway.

I wanted to deck that bitch so bad my hands were trembling, but I didn’t dare. I was scared of the result and by proxy scared of her. I was terrified of everyone. Years of being at the mercy of other people’s abuses taught me to be scared. I didn’t know how to be anything other than a coward. If I reacted I’d go to jail or worse, to a NEST isolation center.

“Sometimes I just...” I whispered.

“I know you do, Kiddo.” I felt Stagger’s massaging hand on the back of my neck.

The upper floor looked more like a resort than a law office. Live trees in pots all over the place. The placid sound of phones gently ringing. The smell of freshly polished wood and newly waxed floors. I made my way all the way to the end of the hall to the corner office with the frosted windows. The door was equally impressive with its expensive inlay reading the name Andrea A. Ryan. I slowly turned the door handle, peeking my head in.

The floor was hardwood like the rest of this place, accented by the light of a massive floor to ceiling window that made up the outside facing walls, meeting at the corner where a huge modern desk was placed.

Behind it sat one of the most intimidating women I’d ever known.

My sister Andy was a quiet powerhouse. She was tall and a redhead like Maxine. She had a brief few freckles on her face that spoke to how young she was, the second of mom’s daughters. Her suit looked like it weighed nothing, sitting on her lean, buxom body like a pair of well-made pajamas and yet deadly smart. It was a subdued blue color with a stark white undershirt. She wore a bolo tie around her neck in lieu of a business one. The emblem the cords ran through looked almost like the crest of some warrior knight of olde. Her hair was done up in huge ringlets, beautiful and professional. She looked like a classic movie star. Like Lana Turner brought back to life. Of all of my sisters, she was probably the prettiest, followed by Max. She was the kind of woman that liked to make other women feel bad about themselves and could pull it off.

“Hey, Andy,” I said, stepping inside of her office door.

I crossed my hands in front of me. I didn’t know what else to do. I looked around and felt somehow diminished. This place was worth more money than I’d ever seen. I was probably standing on a forty-thousand dollar floor, smelling her burn three-hundred dollar incense, looking at her wearing a five-thousand dollar suit.

Everything on my entire body was worth about fifteen bucks at the thrift store.

“Charlotte.” She said in lieu of a greeting. She used my actual name and I knew why.

She was setting the tone.

This wasn’t gonna go my way.

Even her voice was scary. Andy had a direct way of speaking to people. Like she already knew she was better than them. Her voice was husky and rich.

I envied her.

As I looked around her office, I wasn’t just intimidated. I was jealous.

“I... thanks for seein’ me. I know you’re probably really busy,” My voice sounded tiny. I fought the urge to shrink back out the door.

“Sit down.” She said and I realized it wasn’t a request.

I walked closer to her desk, my nerves on edge, and slipped into one of the stylish chairs in front of it. The memory foam padding was probably the most comfortable thing I had the pleasure of sitting on in my entire life. It cradled my body like some kind of cloud turned into furniture.

I knew Andy. She hated people that didn’t look her in the eyes. More importantly, she hated people full of weakness.

Everything I was.

I forced myself to look up to her candy green eyes. They were just as beautiful as she was. And they were scorching the back of my eye sockets. She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t moved a muscle. She hadn’t even frowned at me and already I could feel how much she hated me. My eyes didn’t just retreat. They ran to stare at her hands.

Andy looked down and kept scribbling notes on a legal pad making a little sound that suggested I’d made a no-no.

“What?” I asked, my heart practically beating in my neck as I examined her perfectly manicured red nails.

She didn’t respond but I knew why. I had looked away and she was irritated.

“How are you?” I asked.

She set her pen down, clasped her fingers together on her legal pad and stared at me.

I fought hard to stare back.

“I’m good, Charlie. I’m really good. I also know you hate small talk the same way that I do, so if you’ll forgive me. You have two minutes.”

“I-” I opened my mouth to speak, but she stopped me with a raised hand.

“Two minutes, and I start billing. And do be careful, I have an eight-hundred dollar an hour minimum.” She went back to writing on her legal pad, glancing over at her computer screen every few moments.

Jealousy crept into the corners of my head like knives digging into my skull. Sitting across that desk from me was everything I wished I had. She made in minutes what I couldn’t make all month. For me, her giving me the tiniest loan would be life-changing. For her it was inconsequential. She probably spent my rent on that bolo. I tried not to show it on my face.

I took a deep, sobering breath and looked down at my hands. They were starting to shake. I didn’t have much time. Already I could feel soreness starting in my joints. I wet my lips and nodded.

Two minutes. Less now.

“Andy, I wouldn’t be here unless it was absolutely crucial.” She stared right through me.

My eyes bolted again. I’d fall apart if I looked at those green irises any longer.

“I know you don’t have any love for me.” I said, “I know we aren’t even on speaking terms. What I did was unforgivable. I hate myself every day for it. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror,” I felt myself choking up.

Fuck.

I couldn’t show weakness. I had to eat it and let her know I wasn’t spineless.

Tears started falling out of my eyes.

“I got nothing left, Andy. I’m a wreck and I know it. I’ve done everything I can to come up with my rent, but if I don’t pull it out of my ass by tomorrow, I’m gonna lose my roof.”

I dared to look back up at her.

The look in her eyes nearly stopped my heart.

“I just... thought you’d help.” I wiped my eyes with the heel of my palm.

I could feel Stagger standing behind me. He put his hands on my sunken shoulders. I swear in that moment the only thing keeping me upright was him.

“Charlie,” my heart fluttered when she said my name. “We did everything we could for you. We really did.”

“I know, but-” she shut me up with a look.

“I talk now. You listen. Nod your head.”

I nodded my head like an obedient puppy.

“Say you understand, because I won’t repeat myself.”

“I understand.” I practically recited the words.

“You did everything you could to break up our family. Dad did nothing but clean up behind and chase after you. He begged us to give you chance after chance after chance.”

My left knee was jumping. I knew where this was going. I didn’t dare stop her though. I didn’t dare get up and walk out. I knew she’d been waiting to say what she was about to say to me for years.

I earned it.

The last time I came here, almost eleven months ago, she wouldn’t even see me. I broke a bunch of glass in the lobby and got arrested out front.

“Mom was the one who decided she’d had enough. Of what? I don’t know. Dad took care of her like he took care of you. But she left anyway. Went running into the arms of that useless sperm donor of yours. But people make mistakes, right?” Andy said.

Her face was unchanging. I just wanted her to shout at me. I could deal with people shouting at me. This was far, far worse. I reached a hand up and played with a loose strand of hair at the back of my neck.

“She walked out and right into the arms of some boy that talked a big game and worked in the mailroom of all places. The mailroom. And what did dad do? He came home to his family every evening and hoped. Kept believing her lies that she was just figuring things out. Just needed space. And who knows, right? Maybe she just wanted to feel young again. Maybe she just wanted a younger man to tell her she was still sexy.”

I didn’t want to hear anymore but Andy was my only hope.

“Until she came back home knocked up with a little fuck trophy and expected my dad to take care of your dad’s mistakes.”

I felt my lip tremble and bit it to stop it.

“Do you know what pisses me off the most...? None of this would have even happened if a mailroom clerk had pulled out four seconds sooner and left you drying on a bedsheet.”

I looked at the floor. The squeeze of Stagger’s reassuring hands comforted me.

“Stop crying,” Stagger whispered and I rubbed my eyes.

I opened my mouth like I wanted to say something, but I remembered what Andy said.

She talks. I listen.

“And your whole life you walk around fucking up everything you touch. Being the biggest nuisance you know how to be. Mom and Dad put our family back together despite everything else somehow... and the one good thing that came out of it you managed to...”

She couldn’t talk about it any more than I could. I just nodded, trying to keep myself from breaking down.

“So forgive me for being crass when I say, Charlotte,” she leaned forward at her desk, opened those perfectly painted red lips and spat her next words at me like acid.

“Get the fuck out of my office.”

I sprang out of that chair. I couldn’t let her see me break. I wouldn’t. I almost ran for the door.

“By the way. You’re one minute over. I’ll send the bill.”

I slammed the door and tears spilled out of my eyes faster than I could wipe them away.

My face felt hot. My head felt hot.

“Jesus, Charlie,” Stagger said, jogging behind me, “are you alright?”

He stepped in front of me and I stopped at the elevator door. I didn’t want to respond to him there. Nobody could see him or hear him but me. I rapidly tapped the down button on the elevator just as Candice came swishing her hips past me, a smug look on her face.

I straightened myself and wiped my eyes, refusing to let her see me falling apart.

“I hope your visit today was productive,” she said as the elevator doors rolled open.

“Yup,” I said back, letting my lips pop on the last letter.

“Good. I’m sure you got everything you deserve.” She smiled that fake smile at me.

“I’m sure you’ll be the first to know.” I stepped into the elevator and Stagger followed.

“Are you alright?” He asked again. I could feel his eyes on me.

Candice stopped near the end of the hall to stare back at me until the elevator doors rolled closed.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright,” he lifted his hands, “not a word, I promise.”

“Thank you.”

I blew past the front desk ignoring Travis’ concerned eyes as they followed me from the elevator to the front door. As soon as we were out of the building I walked as fast as I could without running.

“Where are you headed?”

I kept walking. My sadness had turned to anger and bitterness somewhere along the way. Not just at what Andy said, but at my life.

At everything.

“Charlie,” he called to me again, but my feet moved faster. I heard him call my name again, but I didn’t care.

I ran.

I didn’t know where, I just wanted to run. I wanted to scream. I wanted to break things and yell and cry. I just wanted to hit something and hit it and hit it until it felt as bad as I did. I wanted to punch the face of everybody that acted like I somehow wanted to be unwanted. I wanted to take a baseball bat to my life and not stop until I couldn’t lift my arms.

I ran until my cigarette abused lungs burned. I ran until my legs were on fire and my thighs felt like useless bundles of tissue weighing me down.

Then I ran more.

I didn’t stop until my thundering heart and aching lungs made me. My hands found my hips and my shoulders heaved up and down.

“Hey,” I heard Stagger’s voice again, from above.

I tilted my head up to see him coming to rest beside me from the sky. One long, black wing out at his side, its ethereal feathers fluttering.

“Look, let’s just... let’s head back to your place and figure this thing out, okay?”

I looked across the street. There was a liquor store there advertising the cheapest vodka in town. A couple boozehounds sat on the curb outside of it drinking bottles hidden in brown paper bags.

Stagger’s eyes followed mine to the little shop.

“Don’t.” He said, snapping back to me.

I didn’t hear him.

His wing disappeared as I walked right out into traffic. Cars slammed on their brakes, horns blared out at me. I didn’t even look at them, I just kept walking.

“Charlie! Fuck.” Stagger’s footsteps were behind me, “Stop, just stop!”

I didn’t.

I walked right into the liquor store, shoving the door so hard it knocked the doorbells down and made the cashier jump. I marched back to the cooler and yanked one of the doors open, snatching a thirty-two-ounce sports drink from it. Slamming the door shut, I made my way over to the advertised cheapest vodka in town and grabbed a bottle. Stagger was pleading with me. I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to.

I slammed money down on the counter, none of the cashier’s words registering to me. As I stormed out of the store, the sports drink was open, half of its contents getting poured out on the sidewalk as I walked towards the street.

“Charlie! If a cop sees you, you’re gonna violate your parole.”

I opened the vodka.

“Please!”

I sat right on the curb next to those smelly boozehounds and turned the vodka bottle upside down in the sports drink, staring balefully up at Stagger as we both listened to the two liquids splashing together.

He was shaking his head.

I didn’t care.

I threw the vodka bottle aside and in seconds dumped the disgusting mixture of lemon-lime, electrolytes, and alcohol down my throat.

“I’m not watching this.” Stagger said.

“Then leave!” I shouted, the boozehounds quickly hurrying away. “Just go, Stagger. I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone!”

“You need your fucking head examined!” He shouted back at me.

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, there she goes again! Fuck me. Fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck everybody!”

“You’re goddamn right,” I muttered, dropping the bottle in the street.

“Whatever,” Stagger was pacing back and forth in front of me. “Whatever. You’re just-- whatever. Every time. Every fucking time. I can’t...” He was so mad he couldn’t get his words together.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Nothing.” He hissed.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Stagger’s pacing kept up, his eyes boring down on me.

“I don’t get you.”

“Just go.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“You’re gonna leave anyway. Everybody leaves.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, shaking my head.

I started to feel slow and stupid. My head was beginning to swim.

“I can’t even begin to keep up with your issues.”

“Only issue I got is you,” I said, getting to my feet.

Already the alcohol was hitting me. I stumbled a few steps off the curb.

“Jesus. Look at you. You’re fucking wasted already.” He said, stepping up to catch me.

I shoved his hands off.

“Who cares.” I must have looked plenty crazy in that street yelling at no one. Tussling with no one.

“You don’t care. Nobody does. Nobody has to,” I mumbled. My words were getting harder to say as I headed for the bus stop.

“Where are you going now?” He asked from somewhere behind me.

My feet felt heavy. Maybe I overdid it a little with the vodka.

“Only one place left to go, Stag.”

I got to the bus stop just as the 31 pulled up. I hopped on, not without stumbling on the bottom two steps. Climbing up, I made my way to the back of the bus and took a seat. Stagger was right there beside me. We rode in silence for the half hour or so it took for me to get to my next stop downtown. Swirling lights and empty-headed thoughts bounced around my head.

I stumbled off the bus, feeling the world spin. My brain felt like a cotton ball between my ears.

“Charlie,” I heard him say. His voice seemed far away even though he was right beside me. I felt slow and heavy all over.

I stopped and looked at him, staring into his chest.

“What, man?” I asked, my mouth feeling thick, my head buzzing.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m gonna go ask Bob,” I said, shrugging.

“Bob? Who the fuck is Bob?” Stagger asked, genuinely confused.

“Bobby.”

“Yeah. Right. Who the fuck is Bobby?”

“Y’know. Rob.” I said, shrugging like he was supposed to figure it out.

Rounding the corner at the end of the block, I hopped down from the curb, stumbling and falling to my knees in the street. An expensive looking car almost creamed my ass and honked its horn at me. I used the hood of it to climb back up and flipped the driver off.

Stagger rasped out a hard sigh and looked around.

“Why are we downtown, Charlie?” I could tell from his voice that he was genuinely lost as I made my way to the opposite curb, stumbling towards a large sports gym.

“I told you already,” I said, my voice a drunken whine, “I’m gonna go ask Rob. She’s the only one left that hasn’t said no to me yet.”

“She?” Stagger asked, grabbing my arm.

I stopped and turned to face him, right in the middle of the sidewalk.

A couple walked right by us, steering well clear of the nutty girl talking to herself in the street.

“Yeah,” I said at almost a whisper. That’s when he looked over my shoulder.

On the wall outside the double doors was a massive poster with an athletic, blond woman on the front of it. She was all solid abs and tight muscle with an elegant shape. Both of her hands had cherry red boxing gloves on them, her blue eyes blazing with special effects. She had a confident stare on her face. The kind of expression winning gave you. In big bold letters across the top, it said Robin ‘Rampage’ Ryan, Mixed Martial Arts World Champion.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stagger said, pointing at the poster. Both of his eyebrows shot up. “That’s Rob?”

“Yeah.”

“Bobby.”

“Yeah.”

“Bob.”

“Yeah, Stag.”

“One of your sisters is fucking Rockin’ Robin Rampage?”

“Yup.” I made the last letter of the word pop.

“Look. I don’t think this is a good idea.” He said, turning to walk away, snapping his fingers and beckoning me with a wave. “Let’s just get you home. We’ll think of something else.”

“I got nothing else. And I’m not losing my place.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Yup.” The last letter popped out of my mouth again.

Stagger stared at me for a long moment.

“You’re serious.”

“Can’t do it sober.” I shrugged.

“No, I mean you’re serious about doing this. About going in there.”

“If you don’t wanna watch, you don’t have to. Just leave. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be dead!” He yelled at me. “Why don’t you just go home, Charlotte?!” He pleaded with me.

“I won’t have a home to go to if I don’t get this money,” I said with a dopey smile. All my woes temporarily gone on alcohol.

“That’s not what I’m talkin’ about,” Stagger hissed at me. “Blue Veil. Your real home. None of this is gonna matter if Perun gets to the Heart Fire before we do.”

“That ain’t my home!” I screamed at him. “I got nothin’ there, Stagger. Nothin’!”

“You don’t have anything here, either!” He roared right back at me.

“Bullshit. That’s bullshit! I got a family here.”

“No, you hav-” I cut him off.

“Say it. Say it, motherfucker! I can’t hit anybody here but I can damn sure hit you!” I stepped right up to him sobered by rage and shoved him.

“You don’t have any power here, Charlie,” Stagger said, his voice soft then.

He lifted both of his hands and placed them on my shoulders.

“They hate you. And I don’t know if there’s anything you can do to change that. Do you know how hard it is to see you-”

“Then don’t. Watch.” I glared at him, staring him in the eyes until I couldn’t anymore.

I turned around and headed for the double doors of the gym. I felt his eyes on the back of my head.

“You’re nothing like her.” He said, “Siobhan. You have her name but you don’t have her heart. Siobhan would do anything to make sure Perun never won. She gave her life for something you don’t even care about.”

“I’m not her anymore, Stagger,” I said over my shoulder. “I can’t be who you want me to be. I’m not a hero.” I looked back at him, “I’m just a girl that wants her daddy back.”

I marched right through those doors, still numb from the vodka. The drunk I had on was the only thing that kept me from running out of that place. From noticing the ache in my muscles. I kept thinking about going home, hiding in the bathroom and shooting up instead of this. But then I remembered tomorrow I wouldn’t have a bathroom to hide in if I didn’t do what I came to do.

The gym smelled like old, stale sweat and air fresheners. I could hear the sound of feet hopping on mats and ropes whipping at the floor as people nearby skipped them. Feet were pounding on treadmills and someone was tenderizing a speedball with a tremendous rhythm.

The gym was primarily men, but a couple of women who no doubt were there to soak up the limelight of the champion were present.

There was obviously one hell of a membership fee. There weren’t any fans here, just genuine athletes wanting to be the best. Metal slapped metal as people lifted weights and an attendant walked around offering people water. Compared to these people, I was a short slice of soft bread.

In the boxing ring in the middle of the gym, I saw her. I watched her signature footwork. Watched her dance in and out with her sparring partner. Her lightning fast fists whirled in front of her, catching her partner’s target gloves with blinding execution. A work of love and repetition. I could feel ice running down my back and butterflies trying to get out of my stomach.

Andy was frightening but Robin was something else.

Robin was pure terror.

This was the woman that bullied me all through school. She was the one who waited for our parents to leave just to trap me in the garage and repeatedly beat me up. Her and all of her friends used to tease me so bad at school I’d just ditch and go smoke cigarettes or snort coke with the washouts.

She was the reason I spent most of my teenage years drunk before noon. Course it didn’t help that she thought I was crazy. Everyone did. You walk around spouting off about angel wings, gods and other worlds and the only people who’ll ever hang out with you are the ones that like to take hallucinogens.

I almost hated Stagger for not showing up sooner in my life and telling me it was all real. Telling me to just keep my mouth shut about it so I didn’t alienate myself from my family and friends.

It was too late now.

That first step towards the ring was the hardest step of my entire life.

I took another. And another. Before I knew it, I was standing right next to it, my hands sliding into the pockets of my sweatpants.

“Rob,” I said, not nearly loud enough.

She didn’t hear me.

“Bob!”

I saw her blue eyes flash my way. Her face tightened and I felt a thrill of fear. But she kept at her rhythm. Kept hitting those target gloves.

“Robin!” I called again, “C’mon. I know you can hear me.”

She ignored me still.

Finally, I took a step closer and called out louder.

“Bobby!”

“What!?” She shot back at me, turning to stare me in the face.

My eyes shot wide. The power in her voice froze my blood.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

Everyone went quiet. All eyes were on me.

“I... I need to talk to you.” My voice was a ghost again. Tiny and lost in my mouth.

“No, you don’t.” She shot back through heavy breaths.

“You know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.” God, I wanted to run away.

She walked towards the edge of the ring and I took a reflexive step back. She climbed down and towered almost a foot taller than me, taking off her boxing gloves.

“I told you to stay the fuck away from me.”

“I know,” I whispered and my eyes dropped.

“But you didn’t listen, clearly cus I see you. Don’t I?” Her anger was building.

Robin’s emotions weren’t hard to read. They never were. Her eyebrows gave her away. Not that I dared look up at them.

I tried to hang my head but her hand came up, shoving my chin up with a curled finger.

I kept my eyes off her.

She wasn’t like Andy. Andy hated weakness first and foremost, me second. Bobby just hated me. I kept staring a hole in the side of a punching bag near the wall.

“I need some help.” I couldn’t force my voice over the defeated whisper it came out as.

“What?” She said as if she couldn’t hear me clearly. I knew she could.

“I said I need some help,” a little louder this time.

Robin laughed.

“You really have the nerve to walk into my gym stinkin’ like booze and ask me for a fuckin’ favor?”

I heard her repressed New York accent slip out.

“I wouldn’t have if I had any other option. Look, I know how bad I messed up, Bobby.”

“Robin.” She said, revoking my right to even use the name I’d called her since childhood.

I nodded.

“Robin.” I paused. “I think about it every day. Every day, Bob.”

I said it out of habit and she shoved me so hard and so suddenly that my teeth clacked together. I fell back several steps and opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“Whoa,” I heard her coach say, “We’re not doing this, Rampage. I dunno who this girl is, but I can’t have it. We got a fight to prep for.”

She looked back at her coach, then marched closer to me.

“What do you want, Charlie?”

“I-,” fuck, the words wouldn’t come out of my mouth.

“What?!” She yelled at me and I jumped.

“I haven’t... I mean, it’s been hard finding a job after I got out.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“Look,” I tried to whisper, “I’m a couple months behind on my rent. I’m about to lose my place. I’m not askin’ you to care, just... if you could loan me five or six hundred dollars. I swear I’ll give it back.”

“You’re asking me for money?” Her eyes were wide and incredulous then.

“Y-yeah, but not for anything dumb. I-”

“You swear. Yeah, you swear. Fuck your swear. You always swear. Max told me what you did the last time she gave you anything.”

“I made a mistake.”

“A mistake? You overdosed and almost killed yourself with money you told her was to go to rehab.”

“Bob,” Her arms burst forward and shoved me to the floor.

“Robin.” I correct myself.

“Whoa! Okay, that’s enough. Ladies, break it up,” her coach came down from the ring to stand beside us as I got to my feet.

“Robby, who is this girl?” He said, gesturing a hand in my direction.

“This pretty little piece of work is my sister,” Robin said.

Every head turned to look at me.

“And she’s the perfect example of what happens when you mix equal parts drugs with equal parts empty fuckin’ head.”

She lifted her hand and shoved my forehead with a finger.

I felt my lips twitch. A small sign of anger that I couldn’t control.

“Oh, does that piss you off? Does that bother you?”

“No.” I lied.

“Uh-huh.”

“Look, back when that happened, I was-- I’m clean now, alright? I’m not usin’.” I lied again.

“Are you?” She scoffed.

I looked her in the eyes. Hate was boiling behind those blue irises.

It was hard to believe someone so pretty could harbor such an ugly emotion.

“Show me your arm.”

I winced and looked away again. I started to lift out my right arm.

“Your other arm.” She demanded, shoving my arm back down to my side.

I blew a sigh and reached over to my sports sleeve. I opened my mouth to say something but decided it wouldn’t make a difference. I rolled my sleeve downward and the deafening silence that followed let me know everyone in earshot had taken a breath and held it.

The crook of my left arm looked like a topographical map of a bombing site. All the failed attempts at finding a vein while high. All the successful attempts at tapping one and shooting up. All the scars from when I had blacked out and gone to sleep with a needle hanging out of me. It was all there. And most of them weren’t a week old.

“That’s what I thought. You’re fuckin’ pathetic.”

I didn’t say anything back to her.

I looked around the room at all the faces looking back at me in disgust. They were all on her side. I was the filthy druggie sister now. I’d never be anything else to them.

“Robin, I didn’t come here for you to judge me,” I said, yanking up my sports sleeve.

“I don’t have to judge you. Anybody that’s known you for two seconds knows what you are.”

“Yeah? And what’s that, Robin?” I asked, waiting for what I knew was coming.

“A junkie. A piece of shit. And a murderer.” She shoved my forehead with her finger with each indictment.

I felt tears threatening to rim my eyes. My vision distorted from the moisture trapped in them. I gave a fake smile and wiped one of my eyes before the tear could escape. I didn’t want her to see it.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “You got me.”

“Say it.” She hissed, her face tight. Burning with rage.

“Can I have the money or not, Robin?” I asked.

“Say it.” She repeated.

I looked around at all the eyes on me. I felt a pained expression pull at my face and I swallowed.

“I’m a junkie.” I managed to get out without my voice cracking.

“And?”

“I’m a piece of shit...” I blinked and a tear fell down my right cheek.

“And a murderer.”

“And a...”

“A murderer.” Her eyes dared me not to comply.

“And a murderer.” I swallowed the words down, my bottom lip trembling as more tears rolled down my face.

Robin stared at me and I couldn’t look back. I just stood there and felt the weight of every eye on me.

“Robby, look,” Her coach said, “Why don’t we take five?”

She suddenly shoved past me and I nearly fell over again. I guessed it meant she was done with me.

Fuck.

“C’mon.” She said as she marched on.

My eyebrows lifted.

Did she want me to follow her? I looked up and caught the eyes of her coach. The middle-aged man with his graying sideburns gave me the same look he might give gum stuck to his shoe. A kind of quiet disdain you give to the neighbor’s cat prancing across your yard.

Brushing myself off, I turned and followed after Robin.

I was kind of proud of myself for asking for more than I really needed. If she actually gave me six-hundred, combined with the couple hundred from those phone parts, that would put me right at my budget. I could probably figure out the phone bill. The light bill I was positive I could come up with in another couple of days.

She led me around the corner, passed the bathrooms and towards the gym’s office door. Pushing it open, we both walked in and I looked around.

It seemed like a nice enough spot. Nothing like Andy’s office, but functional. She had her own desk. I could tell by the trophies around it and the pictures of our family. I walked over to it and looked over the framed photos.

One was of mom and dad holding each other. Seeing it made me smile. Next to that one, a picture of Robin holding up her first Karate trophy. Another of Dad teaching her how to drive. There was a landscape shot of all of us girls that year we went to Texas to see dad’s hometown in Uvalde. All of us were lined up against a barn wall in tight cowgirl jeans, looking over our shoulders, pulling ridiculous, exaggerated model faces. The Ryan Family Curse on display.

Mom with her five girls and each of us held most of our weight in our ass and thighs. Three redheads, two blondes and my black, frizzy hair sticking out like a sore thumb.

That was one of the few days Robin and I didn’t fight. That was back when Sam was still alive. I could see her little frame right beside mine, last one on the left. She was thirteen in that picture.

I wished I could jump into that photo. Go back in time and yell at myself. Or at least tell Sam to stay away from me. If I only I knew she’d soon be gone.

I heard something click behind me and it brought me out of my reminiscing. I turned around to see Robin locking the door.

“B-... Robin?”

The fear that gripped my body in that moment was absolute. Icy fingers tightened around my ribcage.

“Robin, please.”

I backed up and bumped into her desk as she turned around, marching towards me. She didn’t say a word.

“Bobby, we’re not kids anymore. You could really, seriously hurt-”

“Shut up, Bitch,” she snarled.

I took a step wide left.

She mirrored me.

I tried to step wide right.

She mirrored me again.

I didn’t have anywhere to go but to shrink back around her desk. She pursued me like an animal, the look in her eyes promising me a future I didn’t want. I backed up more, holding my hands up defensively.

“Please. I don’t want- ggh!” Her fingers snapped around my throat.

I swallowed and it hurt. It felt like the pressure in my head was going to make it explode. Blood flow was cut off from my brain. My top lip curled in desperation.

My hands came up to grab at her wrists, trying to pry her hands free. My vision started to fade as I squirmed and writhed at the end of her powerful hands. I didn’t realize only the tips of my toes were touching the floor until she let me go.

I coughed out a hard breath. Used air bursting from my lungs as they desperately tried to suck in more. Years of smoking only made the whole thing hurt worse as a horrible gasping, wheezing sound came out of me with every harsh cough.

I stumbled back around the desk, sliding against the wall to find the door, my arm bending behind me to try and grab the handle. I was afraid to turn my back on her. Pain splashed across my face as her fist rammed into my jaw. My head snapped to the side and cracked the door window.

Blood spilled down the back of my throat and over my lips as another punch rammed into my nose. I pressed my back flat to the door, using it to help keep me upright as my head swam. My head rocked left then right from two fast hooks, stumbling me to the floor.

“Get up.” I heard her spit the words out like venom.

My head throbbed. My skin burned. All I tasted was blood. I watched it pool down under my face on the floor while I got to my hands and knees.

“Shit...” I groaned out.

Her fingers grabbed a handful of my frizzy mohawk and hoisted my head up to look at her.

“Get up.” She said again, and I nodded.

I got to my feet with my roots as an escort and again she punched me into the door.

I crumbled.

“Get up.”

“Fuck... Bobby,” I swallowed my own blood, starting to cry.

“Bobby, please. Pleas- nggh!”

Her fingers found my throat again and yanked me off the floor, pulling a desperate, pathetic whine out of me. She was shaking the life out of me then, slamming me against the door over and over again, using my neck as a handle. I desperately grabbed at her shirt, her arms, anything. My eyes rolled back in my head as she blasted my frizzy head against the window until the glass spiderwebbed.

This was it. This was how I was gonna die. She was gonna beat my brains out right here against this door until I stopped moving.

And I deserved it.

Oh well.

Who really wanted to live forever anyway?

She stopped long enough to let me catch my breath, dropping me onto my feet. I coughed splatters of blood from the two red rivers running from my nose.

“Bobby,” I tried to reason with her. Or at least I wanted to.

My head smacked off the glass again and it broke.

This time she busted my lip.

I crumpled to the floor in a heap and she made me stand up again.

Stop crying, Charlie.

I can’t. All I could do was try to put my mind somewhere else.

Most people take minutes for granted.

They go by fast.

You have a coffee, read a book. Maybe watch a quick video online. And then they’re gone.

Minutes.

The average fist fight only lasts 3 to 8 seconds. I read it in some school violence handout a while ago. Always thought it was useful information. I figured if I could just count to 8 in my head, they’ll be tired and leave me alone with the pain.

But Bobby was a professional fighter.

She wasn’t gonna get tired.

She spent the next two minutes of my life throwing me around her office, fucking me up.

I tried to beg. I tried to crawl away. To run.

She punished me for it.

I managed to crawl around her desk, kicking and flailing, but she yanked me off the floor by my torn shirt and threw me over it.

I rolled across her floor to a stop and watched her clamber over her desk after me. Before I could get to my feet she had me, tugging me up. My bloody hands came up to protect my face.

“Put your fucking hands down, Bitch!” She roared at me, speckles of my blood on her face.

Maybe it was all the time I spent in lockup. Or in suffocating, controlling relationships with people that didn’t mean me any good. Maybe it was my immense daddy issues. I dunno. But when people yell at me I buckle. I just do what I’m told.

I put my hands down and let her have my face until she bounced me off her office door to land in a sobbing heap on the floor.

Then she kicked me like a dog in the street.

She snatched up a handful of my bushy, frizzy hair and made me look at her. She stared into the face she’d just battered into a bloody mess.

“Get the fuck out. Lose my address. Lose our family’s address. Lose our numbers, or I swear to god... I’ll beat you to death, Charlotte.”

I stared her in the eyes when she made me that promise. I nodded as best I could before my bloodshot eyes retreated from her hateful stare.

Down on my knees, bleeding out while the weight of my body rested on my neck and roots, my arms hanging at my sides like two weights, I looked at the floor. Equal parts fear and exhaustion made my shoulders heave for breath.

She knew she whipped more than just my ass.

Robin slammed my head against the door again for good measure, then yanked me to my feet to open it. She marched me out in front of everyone by the arm like some kid she’d caught stealing and threw me down to bleed on the floor.

I collapsed, streaking blood across the smooth concrete. I kept my head down, too ashamed to meet the faces in the gym that were staring at my beaten frame as I managed to sit up on my heels, crying.

Her coach started to walk over to try and help me.

“Leave her,” Bobby snapped in a tone that nobody wanted to question.

I flinched when she walked past me to the bathroom thinking she was coming back for seconds, but no. She was going to wash my blood off her knuckles.

I finally managed to get up off the floor. I felt all those eyes on me. Felt fresh tears run down my bruised and bloodied cheeks, cutting clear paths through the red. Her coach helped me the rest of the way while I hiccoughed and sobbed.

“C’mon, kid.” He said, helping me stumble to the door. “Lemme get you an ambulance or something.”

“I’m fine,” I said through a mouth full of blood.

“Is there at least somebody I can call? Family?” He asked.

“No... I just wanna go home.”

“Alright, kid. If you say so,” he said, “Here.”

He reached into his back pocket, taking out his wallet.

I watched him peel off seven crisp hundreds and hold them out to me.

I looked down at the money, then up at his face. He’d probably seen faces just as bad as mine before. He was a boxing coach. But something about the way he looked at me let me know it wasn’t just the big blood bib I had staining my shirt. It wasn’t the bruise developing under one of my eyes. Or the finger-shaped ones around my neck half smeared in blood and beaming an angry color soon to be purple.

What hurt worse than the severe beating I took was the fact that this grizzled old man felt sorry for me.

And he was giving me a shut up payment.

He didn’t want me to ruin the reputation of somebody who had more value than me.

More than that.

The look in his eyes said he’d already seen my future in a gutter somewhere. Another pretty little junkie on the 9 o’clock news overdosed on smack.

He was telling me to go kill myself.

“This is for whatever you might want or... need.” He said, shrugging his shoulders.

I looked at the bills again and nodded my head, silently accepting the deal.

Take the money. Shut my mouth. Go die so I’m nobody’s problem anymore.

The most humiliating moment of my life was taking that wad of money in my bloody hand and walking out.

You’d be surprised how little people say to you on the train with your face covered in dry blood.

I took my busted cell phone and sent a selfie to my dad.

Me:

I give up.

At 4:45 PM that evening I walked into Mr. Jenkins little office.

He turned to look up at my bloodstained face. I handed him a wad of equally stained bills and he took them. We didn’t have to say anything to each other.

He got it.

Tonight wasn’t the night for a chat.

“Hope it gets better, kid.”

I made my way up the stairs, dragged my tired body to my door.

My paid for door.

And opened it.

Stagger was standing there, looking out my window. I closed the door and walked to him.

He turned around and looked me over.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” My voice broke and I buried my head in his chest. He hugged me to him. “I’m not well, Stag.”

“I know, Kiddo.”

There in his arms, hurting from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, I cried.

I cried for a long time.