After I finish putting on the lipstick and eyeliner, I sneak in through the back entrance. When I get to the locker area, I see Acura in there adjusting her stockings. She smiles at me, "Hey, Kylie."

"Hey," I reply halfheartedly. "Do you know if Mr. Yamamoto is here?"

Acura shakes her head, "No, I think he's off tonight. He should be here in the morning."

"Thanks," I say softly as I nod my head.

Wendy walks in at that moment and when we make eye contact, she makes a beeline for me. She grasps my arm gently and pulls me over to the corner to whisper, "What's going on, Kyle? Stan said you haven't been responding to his texts, we're all really worried…"

"I'm fine, I need to get to work…" I try to turn away from her and she clings on to my elbow.

"You aren't fine."

I sigh. "I just haven't been a good son. I need to focus on my studies and not have any distractions, that's why I'm going to give my notice to Mr. Yamamoto when I catch him."

Wendy gasps, "What are you talking about? Why do you…" She stops mid-sentence as if a light bulb has turned on, "It's your mother, isn't it? She's banning you from all of us, isn't she?"

"What does it matter? I don't really have any other options, do I?"

She practically screams, "Of course you do!"

I shush her, but her little outburst didn't appear to bother Acura, who is nose-deep in her phone. I shake my head, sadness starting to overwhelm me, "I can't keep doing this, Wendy. I just need to finish out my couple of years at home and then I can escape and not have to think about any of this stupid shit."

"Why can't you plan your escape with us in the picture?" She looks truly sad. My heart hurts a little for her, but mostly for myself. I never realized how much I came to appreciate our friendship over the last couple of months.

"I…"

Ferrari pokes her head in the locker room, "Kylie? You've been requested."

I nod at Ferrari and turn back to Wendy, "I have to go."

She smiles sadly but there's determination in her eyes. I have a feeling this conversation isn't over.

/\/\/\/\

I'm secretly panicking as I slowly make my way out to the dining area. My palms are sweaty, I feel like I'm going to have a heart attack. The last thing I need is to see Cartman. I don't think I can handle it. I was barely keeping my cool talking to Wendy. I don't want to see any of them.

When I get to the main area, I look around and I don't see anyone I know. I look at Ferrari, the confusion evident on my face. I raise an eyebrow, silently asking her who requested me. She points in the direction of a table filled with, I'm guessing, college guys. I've never seen them before, where the fuck did they get my name from to request me?

I approach the table and feign a smile. It probably looks like I'm in pain. I am, but I really shouldn't be showing that to the customers. I pull out my notepad and hold my pencil at the ready. "How may I help you, sirs?" I cringe inwardly at having to refer to any of them as 'sir'.

The obvious leader of the group, a scummy looking guy with his dark brown hair down to his shoulders, tied back in a douchebag pony tail, smirks at me. He winks before grasping my hand gently, "And you are?"

I have to refrain from rolling my eyes as I pull my hand back, "Don't you already know it? You did request me…"

The entire group of guys laugh, it almost makes me shudder from disgust and dread. Their laughter is anything but jovial. Head douchebag grins as he replies, "We just requested the red headed waitress. My friends mentioned seeing you at the club now and then, and I had to meet the fiery little thing that has all my boys acting kind of retarded."

I examine the guys again and suddenly it dawns on me. The guy in the middle, his sandy blond hair, he got kicked out of here when I first started working at Angel Morte. He tried to grab me, ripped my dress, and I slapped him. That was the first time Cartman intervened to protect me.

"I'm sorry, sirs. You have me confused with someone else. So, have you decided on what you would like?"

The lead douchebag smirks, "Are you on the menu?"

I feel a chill travel down my spine. I'm having a strong sense of déjà vu. Before I could answer, I hear a voice from behind me say, "No, she isn't…"

I turn around and see Cartman, practically seething as he stares down the dumb group of teens. I've never been more grateful to see any person in my life than at that moment. I'm staring at him, a wave of different emotions stifling me, it's almost difficult to breathe.

"Who the fuck are you?" Lead douchebag asks.

"That's the fucker that attacked me and got me kicked out a while back!" The sandy haired asshole proclaims.

The leader gets out of their booth and starts rolling up his sleeves, "Is that right?"

I can't take my eyes off of Cartman, as he rolls his own sleeves up and practically snarls, "Goddamn right it is. You fucks better get out of here before I do it again." He gently pushes me aside and gets into the douchebag's face, "I'll be nice if you losers fuck off quietly."

The group of them start laughing as the rest of them get out of the booth. There are four of them, each of them comparable in size to Cartman. The one to the right of the douchebag, a black haired teen with braces, scoffs defiantly, "You really think you can take on all four of us?"

"Maybe not, but I doubt you can take on all of us…"

I turn to see who said that. From the entrance of the restaurant Stan is standing there with Kenny. Stan is very intimidating - his larger build alone, thanks to years of playing football and lifting weights, is scary. Pair that with the look on his face at this moment, he's pretty damn terrifying.

Out of the back a bouncer approaches them all, "What's going on here?"

The lead douchebag, never taking his eyes off of Cartman, replies, "Nothing."

Terry, he's one of our best bouncers. He's about 6 foot 8 inches, with a build that would make Lou Ferrigno jealous. He crosses his arms over his chest, "Good, 'cuz I got no problem kickin' all your stupid asses outta here."

The lead douchebag scoffs and grabs his coat, "Let's get out of here, suddenly I'm not hungry." As the group of them start to walk out, douchebag leans near Cartman and hisses, "Your girl doesn't have tits, she's probably a shitty lay."

Before I could stop him, Cartman narrows his eyes and socks the guy right in his jaw. There's a sickening crunch, I'm pretty sure his jaw is broken. He wails in pain and there's blood everywhere. The other three guys run to his aid, each of them screaming, "What the fuck, man?!"

Terry grabs Cartman roughly by the arm and escorts him outside. Stan and Kenny stand by in case the rest of the dumbfucks decide they want to retaliate. They, thankfully, grab their friend and run him outside to a car and drive off, probably to take him to a hospital.

Everyone in the restaurant is staring at me. I'm standing there, feeling overwhelmed and confused. When Stan approaches me and asks if I'm okay, I can't handle it anymore. I feel my eyes start to fill with tears, I shake my head at him before running to the back and out of the exit.

/\/\/\/\

I'm sobbing. I haven't fucking sobbed in, hell, I can't even remember. I'm leaning against the wall to the restaurant in the alley. I'm doing what I can to stop myself from hyperventilating and going into a full-fledged panic attack.

"What the hell are you crying over, Jew?"

I laugh bitterly through my tears. Of fucking course Cartman catches me as I break down.

"Fu-fuck off, fatass."

He smirks as he approaches me, "I'm not fat."

I wipe the tears away and stand to face him, "Anymore…" As we look into each other's' eyes, my heart starts to drum loudly, I tingle with a buzzing electricity and my head starts to swim. I have to avert my gaze. I can't handle it. I can't handle him.

I feel his fingers on my chin and he gently lifts my head up. As our eyes connect he whispers, "Don't cry, little Jew."

I feel angry and excited all at once. I don't understand him, what the fuck is his deal? He's fucking bipolar and confusing and stupid and, ugh! "Goddamn you, you fucking asshole."

I start walking away from him when he grabs me and turns me back to him, "Hey! What the fuck is your problem?!"

I wrench myself out of his hold, "What the fuck is YOURS? You don't make any fucking sense Eric Cartman. And you are NEVER fucking honest with me, so why the fuck should I even have to answer your questions?" I stand there with my arms crossed against my chest.

"Don't get all high and fucking mighty with me, Jew. You're one to talk, alright? I don't have to answer to you!"

"Yes you fucking do! You need to be honest with me, right here, right now. I fucking promise you, you won't get another fucking chance after this. So tell me, what the fuck was all of this for? Why me? Why the fuck do you have this sadistic streak with me? And then, to fuck with me even more, I find out that you have been secretly saving me AND my family for god knows how fucking long?"

He looks shocked at that revelation, "How did you…"

"Because I overheard Kenny fucking remind you. You saved me and my entire family, Eric! Who does something like that and then continues to treat me like a piece of shit? Getting off on all of the mental torture you can inflict on me? Why? What the fuck is the point? Why bother saving me in the first place?"

He looks at me, defiance brimming every word, "I just wanted to make sure you're still around to fuck with…"

I push him up against the wall. Even though he's bigger and stronger than me, he probably could have easily stood against the shove, but he lets it happen. "Bullshit! You're gunning for something, and I am not giving up until I find out what it is!"

"I already told…"

"Fuck you! Stop bullshitting!" I glare at him and push him a little further into the wall before taking a step back. I enunciate the next few words slowly and precisely, "What… Do you… Want?"

"Like I said…"

I slap him. He stares at me, dumbfounded and holding his cheek. I grab his shoulders and shake him slightly. "What do you want, Eric?!" I yell, louder than I had meant to.

He shoves me away before crying out, "You!"

I stare at him. Did he just say what I think he said? "M-Me?"

There are tears in his eyes. I'm shocked, I'm exhilarated, I'm terrified. What does this mean? Before I could ask him a million more questions, he runs off. I attempt to chase after him but the goddamn heels hinder me as I fall on the slippery concrete. "Eric!" He doesn't turn back, he doesn't stop; he just runs faster than I have ever seen him run.

I can't bring myself to stand up after the fall. I crawl towards the wall and sit up against it, on the cold wet ground, my knees pulled against my chest. I'm sniffling, whether from the cold or the overwhelming emotions and revelations, I'm not sure. That's how Wendy finds me.

"Kyle?"

I look up at her and just start crying again. She leans down and hugs me briefly. After patting my back she stands straight and offers her hand to help me up. "Come on, let's get you inside," she says quietly. I let her pull me up and she wraps an arm around me to guide me back inside. She rubs my back, in a consoling way. If I didn't feel absolutely wretched and utterly confused, it might have worked.

This fucking day probably couldn't get any worse.

/\/\/\/\

Kenny, Stan, and Wendy are all sat around me in a booth in the corner of the restaurant. Out of sight and hearing from the other patrons and waitresses. Thankfully, it's still an hour until the Friday night rush.

"What happened?" Kenny asks, for once without any kind of self-satisfied tone.

I shake my head. I'm not ready to talk about it. I can't. My brain isn't ready to process any of this.

Stan rubs my shoulder gently as he changes the subject, "Why haven't you been responding to my texts?"

I lower my head into my hands and sigh. "My mom blocked all of your numbers from my phone. She thinks you guys are distracting me from my responsibilities and my duties as a good son."

I can feel Stan stiffen in aggravation, "You have GOT to get the hell out of there."

I look up. "How can I? I don't have any other choice!"

"What about emancipation?" We all turn to see Thomas standing in front of our table.

"Emancipation?" Kenny asks.

He shrugs and grabs a nearby chair to pull it up to the table. He twitches and swears softly before sitting down to continue, "My mom got to a breaking point with my Tourette's. She was, I don't know, just too fucked up over it. She couldn't find a man that could deal with me after my dad left. It really got to her. She started abusing her pain meds. She was barely alive. So, I got a job, found a place to live, and got emancipated. I've legally been on my own for, I guess, about six months now? She's been doing better since. She's gotten clean and has even been seeing a pretty nice guy." Thomas smiles sadly. "She's a lot better off without the stress of me and my condition, and I've been managing pretty well. It was the right thing to do."

Wendy turns to Thomas, "I'm so sorry, Thomas. That must have been hard. But, and no offense, you don't really know Kylie's situation well enough to suggest something like that…"

"I know her home life is bad enough that she dresses in drag for a job…"

Wendy gasps and I nod, "Yeah, Thomas knows." I turn to the blond boy, "Do you think I can? What would I need to do?"

He smiles and starts explaining the logistics. I feel myself smile for the first time since all of this bullshit came to a head.