Wherein Nice Holystone Learns to Love Herself and a Certain Boy
Nice Holystone rips her way violently into the world, killing her mother and forcing Pa to the prohibited drink. Pa never forgets to remind her of this. She spends her early years as far from Pa as she can, running around the streets of Chicago. Some of her friends are actually in school, so she spends many hours wandering aimlessly through her neighbourhood. At night she dreams of getting away; of pirate ships, of princesses in castles and of elf-filled forests, but she knows magic is not in her future.
It's the fire that she falls in love with first. She lights stolen matches one by one, holding them in her fingertips until the floppy wood has burned down completely. It's beautiful, dangerous, unpredictable, and exactly what she wishes she could be.
It's not too long before Nice discovers that fire is even more brilliant when she unleashes its capability to destroy. She discovers that when she mixes the proper chemicals— easily stolen from her home or the local pharmacy— they explode. It's so beautiful; it sends shivers down her spine. She doesn't know just how much the explosions will change her life.
She meets him when she's eight and he's just turned six.
"Ya wanna play with me?" She asks the scrawny boy with the scrapped knee. He just looks so lost and lonely, sitting on the bottom step of a whorehouse that won't be open for another three hours. Besides, she's bored as all hell.
He shakes his head and begins to sob.
"Aw, come on, don't cry," she says helplessly, joining him on the cold concrete stoop. "Ya ain't even hurt that bad."
"It… it ain't that," the boy stammers through his tears. "It's just... that's a really kind offer of ya."
Nice shrugs her thin shoulders. "C'mon," she stands up and offers the boy her hand. "What's ya name?"
The boy timidly takes her hand. His fingers are rough and she likes the way they twine with hers.
"Jacuzzi Splot," he sniffles.
"Jacuzzi Splot?" she repeats with a cackle. "That ain't a name!"
"Well, it's my name!" He begins to cry again, and angrily wrenches his hand from hers.
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I'm real sorry, Jacuzzi Splot. I'm Nice Holystone, and it's great ta meet ya."
They are inseparable. They stay out from the time the sun rises, until long after it has set. His parents are long dead, and her Pa doesn't care enough to notice his daughter rarely sleeps at home anymore. Jacuzzi lives with a group of other children. They stay at abandoned buildings until the cops chase them out, and then they move on to the next one. The kids are a family unit, helping each other out, and doing what they can to make money. Jacuzzi teaches Nice how to brew hooch in bathroom sinks and she shows him her explosives. Soon the gang has a new category of items to sell, and Nice joins Jacuzzi as joint leader of the gang of delinquent misfits.
Almost there. Just a bit more.
Oh.
Was that too much?
Oh.
Did… did I put too much in? Shit, I didn't mean ta, wait, I didn't—
She is screaming so loud and everything hurts and her hair is on fire blood pain oh fuck she has pissed and shit herself and she doesn't care because fuck fuck fuck fuck oh god it hurts so bad make it stop why doesn't it stop where is Jacuzzi and mommy and daddy the pain is everywhere and her shirt is on fire but she can't take it off because her arms are on fire and fuck and why is no one coming she is SCREAMING and she can't remember who she is or why it hurts or where she is but MAKE IT STOP.
Pa tells Nice that they are going to starve because of her medical bills. He tells her she's a stupid bitch and a dumb kid who has completely ruined herself. She lies in bed, hearing his abuse but not listening to it. She changes her own bandages every morning, because Pa won't help her, and she refuses to see her gang, not even Jacuzzi. She doesn't look in the mirror when she changes the bandages but she can feel it. The wounds still ache, and her skin feels tight where the explosion hit her. She's not stupid; she knows her skin will be mostly scar tissue forever. She lost an eye. An eyeball. She doesn't feel like a fourteen-year-old girl anymore. She feels like a monster.
She's crying so hard, but she smiles through her tears. Jacuzzi looks bewildered through his own tears, the red and puffy skin around his fresh tattoo crinkling strangely. It only makes Nice cry and laugh harder.
"Please stop cryin'," her best friend begs. Nice realizes that he's never seen her cry.
"I'm okay," she assures him, backing away from the window. She beckons him in, "Pa's out, so he ain't gonna chase ya out again or nothin'."
Jacuzzi clambers through the window, and they sit on the edge of her bed. "It's been a month since everyone's seen ya, since ya won't let no one in. They miss ya. I miss ya."
"Sorry, Jacuzzi," she says, her smile fading. "I just don't want them ta see me like this."
I don't want ya ta see me like this.
"I know, I told ya that's why I got this," he waves at his ridiculous tattoo. "We're gonna always be weirdoes together!"
If it was anyone else, Nice would have been angry, but it was him and the gesture was so permanent, so sweet, so Jacuzzi. There was no way she could stay mad at him.
"Come with me now," he tells her, encouraged by her silence. "Donny bought fireworks for when ya come back. Not as good as yas, of course, but everyone wants ta have a party for ya. They care about ya, Nice."
Nice frowns and wipes the tears from her eye. "I'll scare off the little kids."
"Now ya just bein' self-conscious," Jacuzzi accuses. "They all love ya, no matter what ya look like."
Nice gives him a tiny smile. "Okay. Okay. Just one sec." She strips down to her underclothes, not caring that Jacuzzi is still there. She begins to remove the bandage that wraps from her breasts to her hips. Jacuzzi, stares at her, confused. "They were supposed ta come off last week. I just didn't want ta take 'em off. Ya gonna help me?"
Jacuzzi rises from the bed and stands by her side. Softly, gently, he begins to wind the bandage off of her arm. The red, raw skin gradually becomes exposed, and Nice tries not to shudder in horror. Finally, the bandages on her torso and arm are all removed. Jacuzzi steps back and lets Nice cross the room to view her still-bandaged face in the mirror. She takes a deep breath and starts to take off the bandages. Her face is mangled. The space where her eye used to be is a terrifying mess. She lets out a mewling cry and begins to shake, until gentle hands turn her around. Jacuzzi stands before her, smiling. He pulls her into a gentle hug. Nice slowly relaxes into his embrace.
"I think ya beautiful," he whispers. "But ya know that."
That evening, it hits Nice Holystone that she might be sort of in love with Jacuzzi Splot.
"I dunno, Boss," Nick says when they meet up with the rest of the gang an hour later. He hands her a bottle of their best liquor. "That's a good look for ya. Ain't nobody gonna mess with our gang when they see ya faces." He nods to Jacuzzi's tattoo, as well.
"Shut up, Nick," Nice tells him, good-naturedly. "Now, I was promised fireworks."
Jacuzzi helps her run away for real the next night. Her bags are filled mostly with explosives— she's planning on picking her favourite hobby back up in a few days. She doesn't leave a note for Pa. She knows he doesn't care. His indifference should hurt her, but it doesn't. She knows who her real family is. She steals a wad of cash from under Pa's mattress, and half his moonshine, as she says goodbye to the place she never truly called home.
She learns to cope with the stares. It's actually pretty easy. That lady who turns her head in disgust? Nice raises her voice during her conversation with Jacuzzi, drawing even more attention to herself. That drunk guy who called her 'Cyclops'? He ran off when she silently pulled out the cherry bomb in her pocket.
Let them stare.
Just let them.
She has Jacuzzi by her side. She has her gang. She has her bombs.
She doesn't need anything else.
He's unbelievably furious. She's never seen him like this. He's crying and shaking and clutching the gun so hard that his knuckles are white.
"They're dead," he whispers furiously. "All eight of 'em. Beckett, Tommy, Scout, Green, Joan, Howard, Jas, Alex. The Russos… they killed 'em all."
He's pacing back and forth in the little room.
"Jacuzzi, ya gotta calm down," she tells him quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Don't do nothin' rash, ya hear?"
"They can't get away with this! They killed members of our gang. They murdered our friends."
"I know, Jac," Nice says sharply. They had been her friends too, but seeing this kind of anger on Jacuzzi's face scares her. "But ya can't go get revenge when ya worked up like this, or it's gonna be ya who ends up dead."
Jacuzzi sucks in a few slow but shaky breaths. He places the gun on the table and rubs his tattooed face. He suddenly looks more like a little boy than a gang leader. "Okay. Ya right. Ya gonna come with me?"
Nice smiles coldly. "Lemme get my toys. There's no way in hell the Russos are gettin' off easy."
"We gotta get outta Chicago."
"I know."
"I'm sorry, Nice. It's my fault."
"It ain't ya fault, Jacuzzi. It was a matter of time before one of us got a bounty on our head. It just happened to be you. 'Sides, we showed them, didn't we? The Russo family ain't gonna go after us like that ever again."
"Yeah."
"Listen. There's a train takin' off for New York City next week. The Flying Pussyfoot, I think. I say you, me, Nick and Donny jack it, and then find a place ta squat in the city. The rest of the gang can meet us in a few weeks or somethin'."
"Okay… New York… we could find a whole lot of people ta buy our booze in New York."
"Ya see? It'll work out. I swear."
She's still shocked by his kiss. She ignores Nick's teasing. Jacuzzi kissed her and then climbed onto the train, maybe to fight to his death.
"C'mon," she tells Nick. "We got work ta do."
Jacuzzi had kissed her. It had felt better than even the biggest explosion she had ever made. He had kissed her. She rubs her hands over her scarred arms. She feels shivery, but she's not sure if it is just because of the exposure to the night air.
But never mind. She'll be nineteen in a couple of weeks, far too old to act so childish in the face of danger. She can be all girly and lovey-dovey later. People are dying, and they need her help.
Three months after the fight with Graham, Jacuzzi and Nice's gang finally settle down. That showdown, as well as the bizarre events aboard The Flying Pussyfoot has exhausted them all, and they need a well-deserved break. They permanently move into a Genoard mansion, and Eve has more or less let them keep it, providing they don't trash it too much. Nice has already broken that rule in several different rooms.
She sits at the desk in the room she has designated as her latest 'laboratory', various chemicals and powders neatly lain out in front of her, as if she were planning out a recipe, rather than making a new bomb.
The door creaks open, and she turns. Her missing eye prevents her from seeing who it is, until he comes onto her good side.
"Hey," Jacuzzi says, plunking himself down on the chair beside hers.
"Hey yaself," she says, kissing him lightly on the cheek before going back to her work. Jacuzzi blushes a little bit and places his arm around her back, resting his head on her shoulder while she works.
"Ya gonna like this one," she promises, reaching a hand up to straighten her eye patch. "I'm tryin' ta make it lighter, so good for throwin', but it'll still pack a punch, for sure."
"I think I'll like it 'cause ya made it."
Nice chuckles and sets down her tools. She turns her head toward his, wrapping her arms around his neck. She kisses him softly, and then not so softly, and he replies with his own lips.
"Woo hoo, now we're talkin'," a voice breaks in. Nick and Donny are leaning into the room, smug smiles gracing their faces. Nice untangles herself from Jacuzzi.
"Get out, or I'll throw my latest project at ya," Nice says sweetly. "It ain't finished yet, so the results will probably be pretty damn messy."
Nick and Donny bolt. Nice hopes they'll stop spying, and maybe even stop making bad jokes about the fact that they have started to hear beds rock at night.
"Alright," Nice stands up and begins packing explosives back into their neat boxes. She pauses and slips one into her pocket. Just in case. "Let's go out."
"W—where? It's nearly one in the mornin'."
"Anywhere we'd like, Jac. The world's our oyster. Besides, this is New York City! I bet they have movin' pictures playin' all night! Or cafes. Diners. We've barely explored our new city; let's have an adventure!"
Jacuzzi rises with a smile. "Yeah, ya right. We've got a whole new town ta take over. But that can wait 'til the mornin'."
Nice takes his hand and leads him out of the lab and towards the front door. She really couldn't be happier. They're safe from immortals, monsters, mobsters and sadistic maniacs. Her gang isn't being hunted anymore, over the next couple days she'll finish one of the best bombs she's ever made, and she gets to spend as much time as she wants with the guy she's totally in love with.
Nice Holystone isn't a princess in a castle like the ones she once dreamed of. She didn't come from a fairy tale. She's maimed. She's a pyromaniac. She's a gangster. She's a killer. She's tough. She's a protector. She's caring. She's a friend. She's a lover. Her life hasn't turned out the way she once thought it would, but she wouldn't wish it any other way.