As I sit on my windowsill, I see a figure approach in the distance as I stare out the window of my efficiency apartment…A woman, or at least so from this distance. I know her. Her name is Angel, and she has been with me a long time… I recognize her bright colored clothing though I cannot make it out in detail from this distance…I leap up from my seat and begin frantically picking up trash and other junk lying around, on my way flicking the doorknob to "unlocked". My eyes fall on a needle sitting on the counter, but I dont bother with hideing it away. Angel knows me, she understands, even if she doesnt like it. She really doesn't though, so I re-think and stick it in the drawer, just for now. I dont want to hurt her feelings, I know it bothers her, just like Roger. Several minutes after seeing the first glimpse of my friend, there is a knock at the door. She must have hustled her way up the stairs. No woman I know could move in heels like Angel can…
"It's unlocked!" I call, scooping the last remains of a take-out dinner from its paper plates and into a bag. It was out all night and most of today, no good for leftovers. There was a flourish. Angel always, ALWAYS enters with a flourish, and even on a dreary day like this, her spinning through the door in heels, white tights, a ruffled knee-length skirt of electric blue and pale blue and white blouse to match, well it puts a huge smile on my face.
"Mimi!"
"Angel!"
We squeak together, embracing like always.
"Chica, we're still going out, right?" Angel asks me, pouty lips telling me that she never let me know about tonight's 'going out' but that she still wants me to say yes.
"Hey, I'm not even dressed!" I respond. It's true; I am still wearing (gasp) sweat pants and an overly large tee-shirt. Only Angel would see me like this, after all, we roomed together for….gosh was it two years? I have to count off on my fingers to make sure, no, it was more like three really. That first year just went by so fast…
"Well then, we will just have to fix that, wont we?" Angel says with a wink as she skips off to look through my closet. I watch from the doorway with interest as my clothes are gone through and neatly laid onto my bed. Yes, I remember that first year well even though it was so hectic, especially that first day, looking back now I knew, I absolutely knew we would grow to be so close.
First there was me, Mimi Marquez, fifteen. My mother had been a dancer when she was very young, though she never allowed any of her three girls to get sucked into that world. It was me, in the middle of two other sisters who rebelled. I know that I almost did it on purpose to spite the others in our all-girls pact, I got caught up in a roller-coaster world of drugs and dance, sweat and pulse. We needed money so I took a job at the club, dancing, underage and under false ID. When they found out, they being the club, I lost my job. When my sisters and Mother found out, there was an explosion that ended in me walking. Mostly my own fault, but there was an issue of family loyalty that I had broken, I couldnt go back. I wasnt disowned, but I had walked and therefore I wasnt welcome home. And there I was, still walking…I had been walking for days, sleeping on park benches with one eye open. And now I was walking down the streets of New York city HELL. I tried not to meet people's eyes as I passed them, fearing they might see me too. Me with my wool leg-warmers, my arms pressed against my scantily clad chest, my too-small skirt and my backpack with what little I had managed to throw into it at the time which included a spoon, candle, needle and the last bit of smack I still had.. I didn't know where I was going and I was beginning to think that home or hell might be safer then braving the glares from the homeless, excuse me, OTHER homeless (oh yeah, I thought, I was one too…) and the sneers of shady people. Over the last three days I had become used to seeing fights break out, violence like I had never seen right before me, and I had learned that the best thing to do was turn the other way, or cross the street and duck on by…but when there was a yell up ahead, my attention was drawn upward in a moment of naivety and forgetfulness.
"You wanna do something about it - ?" the burly shaven-headed man barked. I leaned around the growing crowed, pushing my way through to see what was going on…
"Not particularly, but I would like for you to leave me alone so I can play this pickle tub in peace…" A calm and high voice explained. My curiosity got the better of me and I leaned in, this time seeing the full figure of a pretty, if not overly dressed and made-up woman.
"Fight me for it, if you're a man that is…" There was almost an amusing note of fear in the man's angered tone. 'A man? God, a drag queen…a real live…' My thoughts were lost and distracted with her---his…next statement made me nervous and sort of empowered at the same time.
"You know, I am more of a man than you will ever be, and more of a woman than you will ever get. Now if you please excuse me I-ergh…" His words were cut off as he was thrown to the side by a heavy blow, the second skinhead had hit him squarely on the shoulder. I screamed out loud, along with several others that had stopped to watch the fight, among some who simply gasped. What was even more shocking is that the battered drag queen spun upward again, aiming a heel-kick towards the attacker.
"Ouch…" I muttered aloud. I know how that feels, but none-the-less the move was awesome. He did a precise back flip, blushing slightly as his skirt fluttered up (he had to press it back down quickly and return to a defensive stance.) The…man? My mind couldn't decide what exactly to call him…anyway; he locked eyes with the offending skinhead for a moment and put on a confident smile. Me? I was totally enthralled by the whole thing, frightened of and for a drag queen who was more confident than any woman I had ever seen, frightened for myself being there in the first place, frightened that that sort of thing could happen to me should some random people decide to dislike me.
Much to my surprise, the attacker smiled back. I turned, but the drag queen didn't, not realizing what I realized in that moment. Then I did something that I would regret for a minute, and be thankful for the rest of my life. I leapt forward, tearing out of the crowd and straight towards the fray. The second skinhead had come up right behind the drag queen while he was still eye-locked with the first attacker. I jumped and hooked my thin arms around the strong bully's neck. The man in drag turned around, his face full of shock. He obviously hadn't expected a rescue. His surprise was his weakness though, and the bully who wasn't trying to throw me to the ground took the chance to punch him in the side of the head, sending him sprawling onto the sidewalk. Another quick recovery, the transvestite shot me a look that was all of fearful, sympathetic, frustrated and thankful. In a flourish he launched himself at my skinhead, causing the brute to double over and toss me overhead onto the sidewalk. I felt the warm hand of the young latino cross dresser close over mine and pull me to my feet. For such a young frail guy, his grasp was surprisingly strong. He loosed the straps on his high-heeled shoes and left them behind so we could run at full speed.
"Shouldn't we stay and fight them?" I squeaked, breath hard and chest heavy with the speed we were running. "You were doing so well…"
"Not when I could end up getting you hurt…I cant fight when someone else is at stake, that's when we run." He said to me, grip not loosening even as my palms sweated. "It isn't far, we'll go to my place, they definitely wont catch up with us in this distance." He explained, giving me a smile for the first time. Oh God that smile…the smile that screams 'you can trust me' 'I'm not afraid' 'I live for now' 'Be happy' a million thing's in a smile. Ironic that I didn't even think of the smile's metaphor on his name when I found that out, Angelic. We ran, all the way to avenue A, when I would try and look back he would give my hand a gentle squeeze and shake his head. I remember wondering why I wasn't panicking…I mean, here I was at fifteen being drug along by a drag queen who's grip I certainly couldn't break even though he never was rough, and who if I had broken away could well have done me in, it was obvious he could fight. No, it could have been far far worse than I knew, but there was an overwhelming sense of trust in my heart, even when my minute logical mind was screaming against it.
"Here…" Even he was panting as he quickly scaled the rough steps to a flat, an efficiency up above a storage garage. "Um…I should warn you, it's a bit bright…and it's a mess right now, too…but at least it's safe…" He told me, smiling even though I could tell he was nervous about having to talk to me when we weren't running for our lives. He unlocked the door, ushered me inside and shut and triple-locked the door again very quickly.
"Wow…" I couldn't help but say at the number of heavy locks on the door.
"I'm not exactly well-liked…It's necessary believe me." He assured me, takeing my hand again (gently this time) and leading me out of the entryway and into the main room of the flat. He hadn't been kidding, there was color everywhere, and yet it didn't look bad at all…patterns complimented one another, and colours blended well. There were a lot of tye-dye and rainbow striped things, and also a great many colourful gems and beads hanging on strings or strung on wire chimes.
"Have a seat, sweety." He said in the softest voice…God, I thought, it's easy to mistake him for a girl. He brought back in a pack of ice and some paper towels for what small scrapes and bruises I had received in the scuffle. "Sorry sweet, it's the best I can afford." And for a moment I doubted him, because of the flamboyant décor but as I glanced around I realized that almost everything was hand-made, not purchased.
"It's okay um…" I really had no idea what I was supposed to say at this point as I gazed around the small apartment with wide eyes. He seemed to read my mind.
"Sorry to cart you off like that, it was for the better. I'm Angel, Dumott Schunard. It's a mouthful huh? Just call me Angel, and you are?" He said pleasantly as he stepped through a fabric-curtain where a door should have been and returned moments later with the tights he had been wearing in one hand and a green box with a handle in the other. He plopped into the center of the couch opposite the chair where I was seated.
"Um…I'm…um…Mimi…" I replied, my voice trembling…it was going to be dark soon and my mind was racing onto where I would be able to sleep, how I would eat and where I could get my next fix.
"Mimi, cute name…Your so young, I'm guessing fifteen? Sixteen maybe…Got it didn't I? Don't be nervous, honey, I don't bite…" He smiled a soft comforting smile and then opened the mysterious green box, revealing a sparse sewing kit. He selected a color that matched the tights. "I tore bad runs in the feet, but why throw away what you can repair? They were a little long anyway, so it wont hurt to shorten them just a touch…If only I hadn't had to leave those shoes." He laughed and sighed at the same time and the looked up at me expectant smirk tracing his fair features.
"Y…yes, fifteen…it's very um…it's nice of you, Angel, to bring me here and help me. I have to go now." My mind was made up, I was going, I was getting up and I was heading out the door. I couldn't just take someone's hospitality like that.
"No. You aren't going anywhere. Alphabet city is NOT a safe place to live. You are going to borrow some clothes, stay the night, and in the morning we will work out where you go from there." He said this in a way that was fact and yet not pushy and not threatening but definite. I found myself nodding obediently.
"Lets start with food…" He said finally, setting the sewing kit and half-repaired stockings down and walking over to the "kitchen" which was really just a corner with counters and a stove. He stepped with a skip and called over his shoulder to me "It's been so long since I have had guests…Oh and Mimi-chica, sneaking out tonight is a bad idea. Not that I want to kidnap you, but I sort of run into those guys often and well…they have camped my house out before, just waiting for me to try and get out. I don't know when they usually go home. Do you like…um…ramen noodle soup? It's all I have that would feed more than one…I spice it up though…" He apologized.
"Th…that's fine…its better than I have gotten. I spent the last three days on the street." I said with a light laugh. It was getting much more comfortable now that I wasn't worried about intruding.
"Three days? I cant believe….little miss Mimi…I wish I had found you sooner! You could have gotten hurt so badly…So much can happen on the streets! I should know…" His brown eyes flickered to the ground a second before landing back on the pot he now held over the red burner of an old electric stove.
"I'm okay…" Wow…I was amazed that he was taking such a concern with me…someone who had known me all of twenty minutes now. The pot bubbled and he stepped back into the room.
"I never did say thank you for trying to help me out. That is honestly the first time it hasn't been me against the world with twenty onlookers, all doing nothing to help." His tone had fallen to what I assumed was natural for him, not the high feminine voice but one with light tenor and a slight emphasis on every S.
"Yeah?" I wasn't really listening…the smell of warm food couldn't even keep me awake…I fell asleep right there and according to Angel I sleep like a log, She wasn't able to make me wake up to eat, or to move to a bed, just curled up in the couch and drifted off.
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Love me or hate me, that is the question :D First RENTfic on ficnet. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter...Tell me please, I do so love reveiws...and I just ADORE detailed ones. PS: I probably suck at grammer.