Unless I have some sort of meeting to attend, I am almost never awake and out of bed before ten. Normally it'll be later than that, but sometimes I decide to be proactive and wake up in the A.M.
Even though there was the lingering anxiety about dinner, I still managed to snooze all the way until noontime. Of course it took me an extra thirty minutes before I felt comfortable leaving the soft warmth of my bed so I wasn't up and about until around 12:30. It was common for me to skip breakfast anyways. I opened up my refrigerator and reached in for a pre-made salad I purchased the day previous.
My hand froze. I have to be hungry at dinner, it would be rude not to eat a lot when I am there.
I shrugged. One meal had already been skipped, it wouldn't kill me to skip another one. There was a more pressing matter anyways. I shifted to autopilot as I slipped into the normal wake up routine. Shower, dressing, morning relaxation… Nothing of any vast importance. It was acceptable for me to go into my world of daydreams now.
My phone lit up again. There she was, my lovely girlfriend. Twas a shame that she lived so far away. It was also a shame that I wasn't of the same species.
Being a dragon in this day and age was such a drag. We had this code of laws that restricted us from going outside at all. There were these men, the Dragonkeepers, who guarded our caves and made sure we never went out under any circumstances. They were also the ones who brought us anything we needed, since we were not able to hunt. While the top priority was to bring us the necessities of dragon life, the nicer ones would take requests for more worldly things.
It has been this way for many years, at least that is what I have been told. We were hardly half the species we used to be. When I was a young dragon I would always ask the Keepers to bring me storybooks about dragons. I was confused though, because every story depicted dragons with these vast wings. They were huge creatures, forces to be reckoned with. The reality of dragonhood has changed dramatically due to our enslavement to our Keepers.
Not in my entire life had I ever met a dragon with wings, nor have I met a dragon that weighed more than three-hundred pounds. In essence, we were extremely large lizards nowadays, about the size of a pony. The Keepers were a secretive bunch though, so none of us were even sure if those mighty dragons ever actually existed or if they were the product of human imagination based on our species.
I liked to think we were once so proud. Living here, trapped animals doomed to never leave the darkness, was a bleak thing.
Sadie made it much more bearable. A few months back one of the Keepers, a young one named Leon, slipped me an iPhone. It took me awhile to get my scaley hands adept at texting but I picked it up quickly enough. I met Sadie on a tumblr that was dedicated to love for dragons. We had the most lovely conversations, with her going on and on about how she just wished dragons were real. She had this fantasy of riding on a dragon's back and being flown across the whole world. I mean really, what a cool dream! It was a little melancholic for me to hear though, since we don't exactly have wings anymore… I couldn't dare break her heart and tell her that.
Naturally she had no clue I was a dragon. As far as my Californian rose knew, I was a teenage boy living somewhere out in Norway. Which was kind of the truth, I was a male dragon living in the frigid cold of the far North. She knew my real name too, Drage. Which literally means dragon in Norwegian. My parents were not the most creative dragons in the horde.
My gleaming emerald eyes scanned over the screen. Sadie always left the most darling good-morning messages.
Hello, my lovely Drage. I hope you have a lovely day. When you look up to the skies tonight, I hope a dragon is racing among the stars. 3
You know, I love you as much as the dragons that brought us together. You understand me so completely, so deeply… I love you so much. Jeg elsker deg? Is that how you say I love you in Norwegian? You told me and I keep forgetting. I am so forgetful sometimes…
I can't talk much today. We are having these standardized tests today and I have to sit in homeroom for five hours taking them. It blows. Do you have tests like that in Norway? I heard that Europe isn't as weird about standardized tests… I wish I lived there. Mostly because I wanna be closer to you. Cali is too far… ):
Well, I am getting on the bus now. If you feel down today, let me know. I'll always be your strong dragon lady, okay? I might be far but I will do my best to protect you. 333
You'd do the same, after all. You are so brave. I love you so much…. I'll talk to you later. Bye!~
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
I slammed my fist against the white walls of my shower. My eyes felt tired. My body felt numb, but deep down I was angry. Unfortunately my heart didn't have very sensitive receptors, so I felt no burning in my chest despite how mad I was. I wish I could feel things like that.
The hot shower was still running. My face felt clean and I was aware I had already cleansed it. I brought the hand I didn't throw at the wall to my head. Foam. I still needed to rinse out the product.
"Why must I live this way? This is awful. The money isn't worth it."
My daydreaming is not pretty. Sure, it allows me to string some beautiful words and spin out a praised novel. There is a hefty price for that though, constant emotional turmoil.
The water in the shower was hot. My skin was red from it even. But I felt so cold.
I stepped back from the steady blast of water coming from my shower head, opting to just stand and stare down at the floor below me. My feet were a bright cherry color from the intense warmth of the shower. My vision was blurry, but it wasn't just normal blurry vision. I had glasses and obviously I could not see well without them. But this blurry was a different, more familiar one. The blurry that happened when I tried to face the turmoil of my daydreams.
The running theory I have on my excessive daydreaming is that I have never been able to cope with things in my life, even if it was simply a minor occurance. I daydream to avoid coping at all. Therefore, it isn't even a coping mechanism, it is just a complete avoidance of coping whatsoever. Sometimes I got mad that I daydreamed so much though, and you can't exactly daydream to cope with your anger about daydreaming. That is when what I call "the blurry" happens. I know it is a childish name, but I have been dealing with this since I was nine, cut me a break. Not all the names I give things are going to be earth shattering, I came up with it when I was still young.
Anyways, the blurry happens when I don't allow myself to daydream and I have nothing around to distract me from daydreaming and the blurry. Basically, my vision just goes completely blurred and my mind goes to this blank place and I don't think of anything at all. I don't move a muscle, I am frozen. The world around me is numb, and so is my mind. I actually hate the blurry more than I hate daydreaming. When I daydream, I am at least thinking.
The worst thing about the blurry is that you are only half-present. You know that you can snap out of it and resume your day, but your soul really doesn't want that to happen. You know that you are strong enough to reject the desires of your soul, but who wants to do that? It all means that you basically end up staring off into space for an indefinite amount of time until you are able to break the blurry or you retreat back into daydreaming. It really is horrific, a complete and total revocation of sentient life within you.
But I couldn't live with the blurry today. I had things to do.
Despite not coping at all for most of my life, I was beginning to start forming coping mechanisms. Better late than never I guess. Google helped a lot for advice with this sort of thing, because I would never admit that I probably needed therapy. The thought of sharing this battle with someone else was embarrassing. I could never tell anyone, it brought too much shame. No one would even understand. They would surely dismiss it as being creative, I am a writer after all. On top of that I was trying to build my reputation up and my fans did not need to catch of the fact that I was completely looney.
"The floor is white. My feet are red. The water is clear." The best way to get myself out of the blurry was to describe my surroundings outloud. It brought me closer to the world around me, and made me have to think and observe things. It forced the blurry to erase itself. "The towel to the right of me is blue. The wallpaper is pink. The tiles are mint green. The shower curtain is blue and it has yellow ducks on it. I am here. I am present. I have blue eyes. I have brown hair. I am seventeen. My name is Claudia."
While my vision still naturally sucked, I was here once again. I let out a sigh of relief. I hated the blurry.
I stepped forward again and allowed the lather in my hair to be rinsed. "The water is running on my foamy hair, cleaning it. I'm standing in the shower. I am here. I am not Drage the Dragon, I do not live in his world and I do not wish to live in his world."
From the way I was talking, you might think that I have a problem discerning reality from fiction. That isn't true. While I do hear voices in my head, they bend to my will and I understand that they are not reality. That should probably be a comforting fact to me, since it meant I was somewhat sane. It wasn't. Because it meant that I was okay with being detached from reality and had no real excuse to be so detached.
"It's okay, Claudia. You can't help it. You've always been this way. It's totally fine, it helps you make a living. You aren't totally miserable…" I muttered, voice resonating throughout the shower. I was quite fortunate I didn't live with anyone, what with all the rambling I did. Granted I blamed my issues with daydreaming for my inability to get a boyfriend. Or obtain any extremely close friends. Choi was the closest thing I had to a true friend and she was fifteen years older than me.
I kept my eyes closed, letting the warm water wash over my skin. At least my body felt clean. My mind always felt dirty for all those daydreams, even if most of them weren't obscene in nature. Most of them, at least. Lately they were pure enough because I didn't find the idea of my character, a dragon, being in such a situation to be appealing.
Without my daydreams, I didn't have much to think about. Since I didn't have anything else to wonder about, I started analyzing my situation out loud.
I could hardly hear my own words as the stream of the shower rained down on my head, hindering my senses, but I didn't need to hear it. Talking distracted me from daydreaming. Daydreaming could progress my story for sure, but you have to realize that it takes a lot longer to write out a daydream than it is to have a daydream. I am way ahead of the written story in my daydreams…
"Cmon. It'll be alright. You have a really good distraction lined up today. Stardime talks a lot so you'll probably have to be focused on him. Actors are supposed to be outgoing and the entire room is going to be filled with them. It'll be easy. You'll be able to avoid it. You're strong, right?" Water ran down my face, stinging my still-closed eyes with the shampoo in my hair. My voice was strained from the discomfort, but I would be done soon enough.
My shower went that way, me muttering assurances to myself as I cleaned my body. A few years back, when the daydreaming didn't bother me, my hygiene was far from top-priority. While I've always struggled with acne, my face was practically a hive for it back then. My hair was always oily and unkept, and the few times I attempted to wear cosmetics I ended up looking atrocious. When I realized that I cared more about the daydreams than real life, I made an effort to work on my appearance. I figured that since daydreams are idealized, I would love myself more if I was a little closer to ideal.
I didn't love myself any more than I did back then. It didn't work. But I guess I felt a little more productive so I kept up the routine.
It was cold when I stepped out of the shower, so I quickly reached for that towel and wrapped it around my shivering body. It was early January still so the weather outside was frigid. Even though I kept my apartment well-heated, the chill always found a way into my sensitive bones. What a pain, I wasn't able to feel most emotions easily but I could feel this prickly ice-feeling so easy.
As I grabbed some unfolded clothes from my pile of clean laundry, my phone rang. With nothing but a towel on and a sweater in hand, I approached it. It was Choi.
Naturally I picked up for her. "Hey, C-c-Choi." I shivered. For once, my stutter was not awkwardness but an appropriate reaction to chill.
"Hey, Claudia. Just checking up on how that new book is going. How many words in are you?" She implored, yawning loudly right after. Choi and I had the waking-up-late habit in common.
I looked up to the ceiling above me, biting my lip. Not remembering the exact word count, I produced the last one I could accurately remember. "31,430. I'm like seven chapters in."
"And how is the plot going? I know you are totally spontaneous when it comes to this stuff but..."
I shrugged. "It's going. Drage is about to do something completely stupid, but I won't spoil it. Sadie is going to go through something bad. Conflict blah blah blah, resolution blah, love blah blah blah."
Choi let out a small laugh. "You don't sound very enthused about this book."
To be entirely truthful, I wasn't. A dragon falling for a teenage girl? What a stupid concept. It was something a washed up writer would do when they couldn't form interesting ideas anymore. Even if it was a good idea, I was just sick of being a slave to my daydreams. As much as the concept bored me the daydreams kept me pulled in, like Sadie and Drage's stupid story was some sort of weird drug. It was frustrating. But unlike what I hear from a lot of writers, I don't require passion to produce good work. All of my books so far have been devoid of actual passion and were bestsellers. The whole passion thing was hogwash.
Even knowing how futile passion was, I still wished to feel it. How odd.
I shook my head, trying to snap myself out of my thoughts. I wasn't counting the seconds or anything, but I knew I had just left Choi with a long pause. My incessant thoughts made me prone to doing things like that, often enough that Choi was probably accustomed to it. The thought that she was probably used to my awkward nature made me cringe a little. I truly was a blabbering idiot.
"I mean, it's okay," I sighed, leaning up on the countertop. "I just think it's kind of stupid for a dragon to love anyone."
Choi paused, as if she expected to hear more. "Wait, that's your only problem with it?"
"Well, yeah." I began moving back towards my pile of laundry. It was frigid in there, holding up in simply a towel was not going to suffice. As I rummaged for a good set of underwear and jeans, I continued my conversation. "I've never met a dragon but I'm sure they probably don't experience love the way humans do. And even if they did, why love a human? It was a stupid idea."
A gentle sigh prevaded. "You beat yourself way more than you realize with these stories. You write fiction. It isn't supposed to seem real. And being honest, your writing is so phenomenal you could write a book about the life of a blade of grass and people would still line up to read it. Give yourself more credit."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing.
"I have to go now, but don't forget that. You've always acted down ever since I met you and I try not to pry. But I worry about you. You're seventeen and famous, but awkward as hell. I know the pressure doesn't help… But people adore you okay? Bye." Without giving me a chance to throw in any more words, she hung up. It was fine though, because I still didn't have anything to say.
My parted lips allowed a long exhale to escape. I went about getting dressed, but as normal my mind was not focused on my actions. This time, I wasn't daydreaming though.
Choi was probably right about people adoring me. I recalled articles I read online praising my abilities despite my young age. I remembered the book signings, waves of people screaming their lungs out at the prospect of meeting me. People adored me, sure. But I had never really adored anything so I didn't quite understand the magnitude of that. I did not even adore my salvation, these novels I wrote. Certainly I did not adore my own life.
She made me a bit mad with all that downer stuff though. Choi hinted frequently that she thought I was depressed, because I wasn't very talkative and when I did speak it often wasn't rainbow-and-butterfly positive. I was quite monotone and grey. To be frank, I was a boring person and the only thing that made me appealing was the daydreams that I spun into books. When people loved me, they loved the thing I hated the most; the daydreams.
"Well, I might be delusional. But I look cute enough in this outfit." Material things, things I could understand because you could hold them. Emotions were impossible to grasp sometimes. But clothes? They were always in reach. Most people who knew of my greed would probably shame me for it, but I found no shame. I was just grateful to find something I could appreciate that was not a dancing illusion in my head.
I turned in my mirror. When the money flowed in after my first book's explosion Choi and some fashion experts went out with me on a massive clothing haul. My appearance was revolutionized as a result. This set of clothing was purchased during that haul. It consisted of the baby-blue skater skirt, paired off with a pastel pink hoodie that had a fluffy sheep resting on it. I felt warm in it, I felt cute. It was a simple pleasure. I enjoyed it.
Since today held a somewhat special occasion, I headed off to the bathroom to prepare my hair and make-up. My thoughts remained quite bleak and deep, and eventually melded back into daydreams about my next book. I stayed there for quite a while, with glazed over eyes, not paying much attention to how I curled my hair or winged my eyeliner because Sadie's test at school suddenly took priority in my head.
I will spare details of the daydream this time. If this tale was woven with every daydream I had, no one would ever hear of me. That also means I can never fully express just how much they controlled my life. My life faded behind those daydreams after all. But no one wants the story of a delusional girl. Even I hate that story.
At some point in time I had shoved my phone in the waistband of my skirt, because I felt it vibrate again shortly after my look was complete. Heh, I was popular today. I immediately fished it out and slammed on the answer key.
"Hello Claudia!" It was, no doubt, Stardime. His voice was never not laced with enthusiasm. Or alcohol, for that matter. "I just wanted to check and see if you were still going to show up tonight. I forgot to tell you what restaurant we were gonna meet up at too, so if you are coming I should probably tell you.."
I nodded. "Yeah, I am going. Where is it at?"
"This place called The Han Family Eatery. Real fancy. It is pretty expensive to be honest, but Zen has an acquaintance there so we get it for cheap. Apparently the owner's son is a pretty big fan of your work, so you might get it for free if you play your cards right and act suave." He explained. It was kind of hard to hear him though… Come to think of it, I think he was hosting a rehearsal as he spoke to me. I could hear loud voices in the background. What was he doing, multitasking like that? The performance was much more important than my presence at some restaurant. Hell, I hardly carried myself with any presence.
His comment on acting suave made me laugh. Clearly, Stardime did not know me well. If he did he would know well that I was the opposite of suave. I couldn't act smooth to save my life, let alone get a free meal. "Haha, we'll see about that free meal. I'll be there no matter what though."
"What the hell was that, Luna! You've run through this scene a million times, you have no excuse to be faltering like that!" I could assume that wasn't directed to me… My suspicions had been correct. He was wasting his time on a phone call with me instead of working on my production.
I hung up. For once, I lacked the social grace to even really recognize the rudeness of hanging up like that. But I also remembered the didn't bother with formalities like that from our conversation last night. He had clearly spoken his peace and I had nothing more to say.
My gaze lingered on the end call screen to check the time. Only 2:15… I had quite some time before I had to leave, and despite having slept in I felt the lull of sleep call me once again.
As I made my way to the couch to take a nap, a few things crossed my mind. Mostly I was just turning back over old theories about why people would daydream so much. All my research was Google-based so most of it was not entirely credible, but some of it made sense.
One of the theories out there was that if someone daydreamed a lot when they were awake, it might be a sign that they aren't getting enough sleep. If you don't have a chance to dream in the dream world, they end up leaking into your time in reality and that is why the daydreams end up so vivid and inescapable. I wasn't quite sure I believed it entirely, but I was always tired anyways so taking frequent naps surely wouldn't hurt me.
I curled up in my warm blanket, resting my head on the arm of the couch. It wasn't the most comfortable pillow but I was the type of person that could sleep just about anywhere, so long as it was warm. The cold and I did not get along very well.
As I closed my eyes, I kept thinking. Why did I want to stop the dreaming so badly? It made me a comfortable living.
Part of it was because it made me feel wrong all the time. Like earlier, in the shower. There is no actual problem with wasting time in the shower, but I felt guilty because I wasn't sure that was what normal people did in the shower. Wasn't I supposed to sing, or something like that? Surely I was not meant to zone out entirely and focus on a dragon's love life.
If I was only daydreaming in the shower though, this wouldn't be a problem. I had that outburst because it was almost a constant occurrence. Even if someone was having a conversation with me, I could shut them out and daydream and just give them autopilot answers. Autopilot answers are rude and boring though, nobody liked me for them.
While I never admitted it, I did want to be normal. I wanted to have friends and do petty things that somehow other people enjoyed. I wanted to have a passion for something. I wanted to feel all those feelings I had been missing out on. Normalcy was a paradise that I could only dream of reaching. It pissed me off when people bragged about how weird or unique they were, acting like it is a good thing. Being an outcast isn't cool, it's heartbreaking. I would never brag of it. Anyone who is actually strange would never speak of it in such a praised light.
These thoughts ran through my mind until, inevitably, the daydreams took hold once again and I no longer mattered. But when I finally was asleep, no dreams came to comfort me.
I woke up a few hours later, I knew that. My hair was already a mess from that nap… What a hassle. My appearance wasn't grand but I was naturally quite ugly, so I had to put in a lot of effort to just look presentable.
My phone was the most useful mirror I owned, so I opened up my photo app and looked up at my reflection. My cosmetics were still in order, but my hair… Oh gosh.
I sighed and headed off to the bathroom, taking a solid thirty minutes to brush and re-curl the ratty mess that had formed on my head. That couch was so tiny, it was a wonder I had been able to flip around enough to get my hair in such a state. But I always found a way. Lay me down on silk, my hair will still be a lion's mane come time I wake.
A few weeks ago I had bought this cute electronic clock for my bathroom. The digits were this neon pink color that adored. I might have admired the color if my eyes did not land on the time in the middle of my hair repair operation.
"Shit." I muttered, my hair still twisted by the curling iron. It was 4:55. That restaurant was easily twenty minutes away from my house… I had to get going. But first I made sure to turn off that curling iron. I've almost burned down my apartment too many times by nearly forgetting. Another side effect of going into autopilot when daydreaming- you almost always forget to turn things off and manage to burn or harm something.
I grabbed everything I needed in a rush. Despite Stardime informing me that I could probably get the meal for free if I pulled something cute, I knew damn well I wasn't in the mood to be so bold. I would have to pay, so I double checked to make sure I had my wallet. Nothing else mattered. My driving was piteous, I would simply walk my way over so there was no need to fetch any keys. On top of that my apartment was situated in a privileged side of town so I didn't worry about it being busted into. Truth be told I left it unlocked due to laziness more times than I ever bothered locking it up.
To make my commute a little more interesting, I popped a pair of earbuds in and cranked up my music. Music was always a trigger for daydreaming. It is hard to be fully present when a beat is encouraging you to drift off into another space of mind. But as long as I didn't get hit by a car crossing the road, it didn't matter much to me if I daydreamed. It was probably good to get it out of my system before I arrived. My daydreams during my walk were, of course, about Sadie. She couldn't pay much attention to that test with all those thoughts about Drage running through her head. The math section was especially tough. Without literal words to distract her from her love, she simply doodled on the scratch sheet and completely fell away from taking the exam. It didn't even matter that the exam was important anymore. Drage took priority.
She's a lot like me, I thought. But I shook my head at that. Sadie was distracted by love, I was distracted by delusion. Those two things had nothing in common.
I made it to the restaurant a solid twenty-five minutes late. My phone buzzed on and on, but I really didn't want to face Stardime about my lateness. I was sort of a public figure now so I could pull some fashionably late bullshit. Granted I didn't fit the glamorous public figure stereotype that would pull such an act… Oh well. Stardime didn't know me well enough to know any better of it.
All hyped up and ready to go, I removed my headphones and headed towards the front entrance. But not before I noticed just how packed it was in there, and certainly not before I noticed how fancy it was in there.
From the large windows, I could see at least three chandeliers and those were only the ones I bothered counting before the anxiety took over. The carpet was this luxurious red color, like it was made of some exclusive material and not just some run of the mill stuff. The rest of the floor was marble, and I knew that stuff wasn't cheap. The waiters and waitresses were dressed to the nines. I was wearing a sweater with a freaking sheep on it. I was not in my place.
Instead of walking on into a place I had promised I would be, I diverted my path and walked towards the back. I needed to calm down. My chest was tight with feelings of anxiety… And of course I forgot my inhaler at home. God forbid I had an asthma attack induced by fear while I wore this stupid outfit in front of this elegant restaurant-
"Hey!"
I felt my heart nearly jump out of my chest. Being as how I was consumed by my own feelings, the world melted away for a moment there. I was not prepared to hear a voice.
Stunned, I turned to the voice with my mouth gaped open. I felt like I was being hunted down by a scary animal, like I had to fight or run away right in that moment. But all I did was freeze.
But I knew this face. Not well, but I knew it. It was the kid that I stuck for the main role. Ben? I wasn't good with names, unless they were characters from my daydream world. I could probably name off everyone in Sadie's extended family but a real name passed me by. Nonetheless, I didn't know this guy well so I was still panicked. I closed my mouth though and resigned to just staring at him.
Actors are confident people by any standard, certainly much more confident than a kid like me. Ren… Or whatever his name was, was not an exception to that rule. He smiled at me and just went right into talking, ignoring my dumbfounded look.
"You're that girl who wrote the production, right?" He asked, leaned up against the back wall of the restaurant. I wondered for a moment why he was there, but before I even could collect myself to ask I realized why. A freshly-lit cigarette was held between his fingers, telling the story. No one would dare smoke inside such a respectable looking establishment.
I nodded. My brain was still confused by everything and if I would have tried to speak, it would have came out all mushy and incomprehensible.
He took a drag on his cigarette. I suppose most people with asthma would be bothered, but I couldn't really judge. Half the reason my asthma was so bad was because I smoked myself, albeit infrequently. "Cool. It probably wasn't a huge deal to you, but I wanted to thank you for casting me. I know that Joker was there and he's a pretty big deal… Why didn't you pick him, anyways?"
I didn't think my words through at all, and I spoke too fast when I replied. "His laugh was stupid."
Len raised an eyebrow. "His laugh?"
"Uh, yeah." I nodded quickly, "I… I have a really specific way I like my characters to be. I'm really detailed with them I guess, or something like that. I had this idea on how I thought Hans would laugh and when Joker laughed… Well, his laugh was kind of a joke." Damn. Was that supposed to be funny? I regretted that lame comment as soon as it escaped my lips. There was an urge to go slam my head into the wall a few times, but that was broken when the albino actually laughed at it.
"Well that's a good thing, haha!" He snickered, a trail of smoke following his wavering hand. "I'll laugh for you anytime you want then. Your name is Claudia, right?"
"Yeah."
With the hand that was void of a cigarette, he held out to shake my hand. I gulped. I hated touching people, but quickly forced myself. My grip was pitiful but most people didn't expect girls to have firm handshakes anyways. That was probably the only thing I could thank the patriarchy for.
Even though it probably wasn't true, I felt like he was judging me. His introduction was so warm but I couldn't shake the feeling. Granted, I felt like people judged me all the time, like they could see in my head and know I wasn't normal. "I'm Zen, but you probably knew that. I won't be too offended if you wind up calling me Hans though."
What the heck was I supposed to say? I had already met him technically, so would "Nice to meet you," be weird? I said it anyways and he just nodded, letting go of my hand.
He took his spot back up on against the wall, taking another drag on that cigarette. Being around that kind of made me want to smoke, but I didn't exactly know a good way to ask for it. Especially since he probably knew I was a kid.
"You know, Stardime is waiting for you in there. He's been rambling on about you all the time at practice. Looks up to you a lot." Zen cast a sideways glance at me, "Are you seriously seventeen though? Some of the words you use are pretty fancy so I don't really believe it. I think Stardime is just messing with us."
I made sure to not meet his gaze. Eye contact was the bane of my existence. "Yeah, I'm seventeen."
"Really? Let me see some ID then, miss." His tone got all serious, and since I can't take a joke to save my life, I actually started digging through my purse to find it. Zen laughed. Not in the way he did for Hans, but his real laugh. It was nice too. A lot nicer than Joker's…
In a rush, I shut my purse and kept my eyes on the ground. I tried to make my voice sound angry, but I came out sounding like an upset baby. "I don't take jokes very well… Don't do that."
"You alright? Didn't mean to laugh at you like that, sorry…" He apologized.
I nodded slowly. "It's okay. I'm not really mad.."
There was a moment of silence, and the cold really set in with me. That skirt I had on wasn't distracting with how short it was, but it was certainly cold enough to not give any protection from the late fall weather. I shivered, walking towards the back set of stairs next to Zen to take a seat.
"Everyone is waiting in there, ya know. They all really want to meet you." He commented, flicking his now completed cigarette to the ground before stomping it out. And he didn't miss a beat bring his pack out again and popping another one in his mouth like candy.
I cast a sideways glance at his cigarettes, debating if I should ask for one or not. They did always calm my nerves, but Stardime might be suspicious of a seventeen year old girl smelling strongly of smoke…
Hardly noticing that I had been staring, he quickly started shoving his cigarette back in the package. "Sorry. Shoulda asked if you were okay with me smoking."
"No, it's fine!" I shook my head quickly, "Actually, I was just wondering if I could have one…"
His bright eyes got wide for a moment. "Yeah, sure. Didn't take you for the smoking type though." Immediately he brought the pack back out and fetched two cigarettes, handing one to me. I noticed that he moved extremely fast getting them out again. He must have really wanted that second cigarette.
I shrugged, holding the thin cigarette in between my fingers as I waited for him to bring me the light. "Is there even a type for it?"
He took a moment to respond, lips occupied by the action of lighting his cigarette. Zen let out a long exhale before responding. "Not exactly. You just seem too cheery for it. Most people who are rich like you at a young age and dress so vibrantly normally don't have a need for this."
"I thought actors knew better than to judge something by first glance." I shrugged, holding my hand up to him to borrow his lighter. He obliged, passing his cheap lighter down to me.
As I lit my cigarette, he spoke again. "We aren't always so good about not judging, I guess. But whatever. Kinda cool that you smoke though, we have something to talk about."
"Yeah, like the fact that you smoke some cheap shit." A small laugh escaped me before I took a short drag on mine. I wasn't a part of the population of smokers that let a lot of smoke in my lungs. I breathed in once and mostly let the stuff resonate in my mouth. The ashy taste was comforting to me. Of course- enough of it ended up in my lungs to be dangerous. But I didn't really care about that.
He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, and what do you smoke normally? Expensive cigars, Ms. Rich Author?"
I rolled my eyes. "No, I'm not an old man! I just haven't had this brand in a long time. Old friend of mine used to smoke em all the time because they were cheap."
"Maybe if you get them to pay me more, I'll let you bum a nicer brand." He laughed, casting me a cocky smile.
I tapped the ashes off the end of my cigarette as I spoke. "Wasn't my choice what you all got paid. You weren't a good choice financially though."
He nearly spit his cigarette out of his mouth amidst his laughter. I was quite fond of his laugh. His natural one, and the one he used for Hans. Either one was quite charming.
"Pfft, I'm sorry. That was funny. The only thing I had on Joker was that I would do this for a lot less money than he would. I'm a nobody out here. Well, not quite, but I'm no Joker."
Shaking my head, I corrected him. "Nah. Joker wanted to do it for free. He liked the script that much apparently. So yeah, it cost more for me to hire you on but I liked you more."
Zen cocked his head. "What, he was gonna do it for free? Your script was good, but getting such a well-known guy for free… That's insane."
"I didn't really think much of it." I paused to take another breath of smoke, "Then again, I don't really get starstruck. I'm nervous around everyone equally. And his laugh did seriously suck. He wasn't Hans material."
"Damn. I've never seen someone shut down Joker so quick. Especially in favor of me." His red eyes went away from me and up to the cloudy sky above us. It was cold outside. So cold that even if our lungs weren't expelling smoke, we could still see our breaths. "I'm seriously grateful for the opportunity. Stardime told me a lot of people got mad at you for not choosing him, so thanks."
"Well, my publisher said it was a bad move. I don't have many people in my life to be mad at me about it. Joker wasn't really happy with me laughing at his performance, but that's to be expected. The reaction wasn't that harsh at all." I had a bad habit of belittling situations like that, simply because most real reactions just didn't have any affect on me. My daydreams and what occurred within them mattered much more to my emotional state.
He snapped his gaze back to me, eyes wide. "Wait. You laughed at Joker? You're seriously bold. He doesn't take that sort of thing lightly."
"Good for him. I'm just an insignificant teenage writer. He'll get over my opinions. Isn't he like, twenty three?"
Zen shook his head. "No, he's nineteen."
"He's probably still richer than me. My opinion ultimately means nothing to him." I dismissed it. I did recall Choi telling me his age again though… It had just been so unimportant to me that I forgot.
He flicked his ashes on the railing to the side of him, still grinning. "Well, your opinion meant a lot to me. Not to sound weird, but I really wanted to be in this. It's really good. But you're also a pretty big deal, and it means a lot to my career."
"I'm not that big of a deal." Was all I could manage to mutter before I took another puff.
"You're kidding, right? They called you Shakespeare when you were fourteen. You are a big deal." He gave me this shocked look, surprised I didn't realize the magnitude of my work.
Again, I really didn't understand it. I wrote down words about delusions I had. It was more shameful to me than anything else. "I don't read much of Shakespeare, but what I have read I didn't like much. So it wasn't that big of a compliment to me," I laughed a little, "I get the point of it though, they really liked my first book. I just don't know why everyone likes it so much. It wasn't groundbreaking or anything."
"I read it." He admitted, "I'm not much of a reader, and I don't analyze stuff like this unless it's for a production… But I think they like it because your characters are so real. It's almost as if they have souls. Hard to believe they only exist on paper."
I wished that was true. I wished they only lived on paper. But they haunted the corners of my mind nearly every waking hour, they pillaged my brain and took away any part of me that would have been worth anything. They took away a personality. Even when I spoke now, I knew I was mundane. Zen probably was sick of talking to me. I would be.
With all that in my mind, I started to feel sick to my stomach. For a few moments I felt like we had a good conversation going, but those words reminded me that I wasn't capable of a good conversation. I wasn't daydreaming then but I knew that was where my mind wanted to be. It was a gross addiction that you thought about all the time. But unlike a real drug, you couldn't go to rehab to stay away from your own mind. So you were just stuck. I was stuck, being boring and annoying and wishing forever that I could run away and daydream under the covers in my dark apartment. I didn't even want to be here right now. Why did I bother coming, I would only annoy my entire cast.
My stomach felt awful, like it dropped to the floor. I wasn't hungry. The hand holding my cigarette felt heavy too. Even though it wasn't completely burned out, I allowed it to drop and stomped it out. My vision was blurry again. The blurry was gonna come back, I knew it. Didn't Zen just say something though? Did it matter? I annoyed him anyways, it wouldn't matter if I responded. Maybe he would be happy if I didn't. Why did I ask him for a cigarette when it was obvious he didn't like me? I shouldn't have wasted his precious cigarettes.
All the while I was having this crisis, Zen was silent, smoking away. I knew he must have hated me. Sure, he thanked me for the part but that was because he was a normal person and was nice. He wasn't crazy like me. I wanted to go home. I needed to go. I bolted upright, a fuzzy feeling hitting me due to how quick I had stood up.
"You alright?"
Everything was blurry. Autopilot. I nodded.
"We should go in. I'm kinda hungry now."
I nodded again. Autopilot.
The elegant place that I had been able to describe in detail during my anxiety just minutes later was blurred. I knew the place was gold, ivory, and red. Zen's pale hair stuck out so I just relied on the waving of his ponytail to guide me to the seat. My mind wasn't there at all. I wasn't daydreaming yet, but I wasn't present here either. A mental purgatory.
The seat next to what I could assume was a blurry outline for Stardime was open at the end of the table. I waddled my way into my seat, eyes fixated on the white tablecloth in front of me. I heard Stardime say my name to everyone and I muttered something not important enough for my brain to even process. I hated this feeling. The blurry was always horrible, but why the hell did it have to spring up in public like this?
You know, that dinner was probably very interesting. I probably could have learned a lot about the people I picked. My hearing gets all out of whack when the blurry starts and I could hear people laughing but it sounded like they were in another room. I could hear enough to respond, but as always, they were pedestrian responses without much thought put into them. I recalled Stardime explaining the origin of his name but I quickly forgot it despite how interesting the story was. Zen talked a lot. Everyone else did too, but I was so out of the moment that as soon as their names fell upon my ears, they were gone.
The food even tasted bland. It was probably really good. It was expensive. My bill was high, but not high enough for me to remember and not high enough for me to snap out of it and act all cutesy to get that discount that Stardime mentioned. The blurry had such a grip on me that I didn't even remember the discount existed in that moment.
Vaguely I could recall excusing myself and I was outside of the restaurant. No one was with me. I could daydream to my heart's content and no one would be around to hold me back. I knew that once I daydreamed until I was done, I would be able to return to a somewhat normal state. Never would I ever be fully normal. Life would always be moments like this, missing out because every moment that I wasn't daydreaming was a moment I spend waiting for my chance to get away and daydream. Sometimes I was able to be halfway present, and sometimes the blurry took over like it had that entire dinner.
Like the way I came, I daydreamed the entire walk back. It was a miracle that I never got hit by a car. God must want me around for some reason, granted I don't see what purpose he could have for someone so damaged. God couldn't even be involved in the making of someone like me. God would never let someone be so far away from the life he worked so hard to make for us. Maybe that was why it was so hard for me to believe in God. I wanted to. But I could never think about my beliefs long enough to decide if I believed or not, I would always drift away somehow.
I daydreamed about Sadie and Drage again. Drage had a dream about meeting Sadie. It was all mushy and warm in my head but in reality my skin was cold. It was so damn cold right now. If my senses were more aware I would have been shaking. Maybe I was. I didn't notice. I only noticed Drage's emotions, and they didn't even really exist.
The daydreams stopped pretty shortly after I was home. I make it seem like this is constant, but let me explain it in full. Most of the time I am alone, and when I am alone I daydream. Sometimes I get mad about it and that's when the blurry happens. The blurry also can happen if I'm in public and something triggers me to want to daydream or escape from whatever is going on in some way, which is honestly most of the time I'm in public. But for a few moments, I am what I think is normal. When I was talking to Zen for example. Those moments are always simple. But they're the best damn moments I know.
I always get mad after I get blurry in public. This wasn't an exception.
Firstly, I slammed down my purse on the kitchen table and walked over to the window. My hands bolted down on the counter.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I yelled. I'm sure everyone who lived near me didn't appreciate it but I couldn't care less. "I had a chance. I had a chance to have fun and talk to people and be normal. Why did I let it get blurry!"
I clenched my fists, closing my eyes tight. I wanted to feel anger, but it was hard to feel at all. My skin felt all warm now like I'd imagine an angry person would feel, but my heart just felt… Weird. Wasn't I supposed to have a fire in my heart?
"You were doing so good… You talked to Zen about normal things. You made him laugh." Wasn't I supposed to be more angry? I wanted to be enraged. I wanted my eyes to sting with tears and my skin to crawl. But everything I said felt so empty. "It was going so well. Why did it blur? Nothing was wrong. Why does this keep happening to me!?"
I knew the answer. I was crazy. But I didn't like that answer because I couldn't fix it. There had to be something else. Deep down, I knew there was no other answer. I had been researching into it for years. I had some sort of illness and there was not enough research to even bring me a cure with all this money I had now. I was damned. Rich, content, but damned.
The room was spinning, which reminded me of one solution I discovered a few years ago at an event. I'm older looking for my age, and when I was out at a benefit I was passed a few drinks. It started out as some innocent sips of wine, but nowadays I was sunk to my neck in whiskey.
It wasn't even dark yet. It would be below me to get thrashed right now. To be entirely honest, I didn't even like being drunk that much. It made me feel sick and woozy. But for whatever reason it was impossible for me to be blurry or daydream when I was intoxicated. Something about the strong stuff just ripped out the damaged part of my brain and replaced it with this false high for a few hours. I knew it wasn't healthy. But just like with the smoking, I didn't much care.
My eyes were locked with my countertop as I weighed my options. I could face my pain like a normal person and hope to God I didn't start daydreaming to get away from the pain of my shame. Or I could get drunk and not even have to attempt self control.
I was popular though. I didn't have time to think as the knocking on my door rang out.
"Who is it? I'm busy." While I did my best to not show my struggle in my tone, I didn't do very well. I sounded miserable, voice creaking out in a depressive groan. I wanted whoever it was to leave me alone and let me be angsty. It was my right as a teenager, after all.
"It's me, Choi."
I rolled my eyes. "You have a key. Why the fuck did you bother knocking?"
The jingle of key opening lock could be heard from the room over. While Choi was unaware of the extent of my issues, she knew better than anyone else did about how rough I was. I was kind of comfortable with her knowing anyways, so I didn't bother attempting to compose myself. Remaining slumped over my kitchen counter, sour look on my face… I felt awful for no real reason. My reasons were simply illusions.
Her heels clicked until I could hear her behind me. "Hey. I felt like something was off with you when we talked today, so I wanted to head over and talk to you."
"I'm a writer. I'm always off." Doing my best to shrug her off, I managed a false laugh.
Another heel click in my direction. "Look, you know I always have a good sense for this sort of thing. I'm worried about you. You've always had rough patches and you never talk about it… I try to respect that, but you do know you don't have to be alone. If you need help, you can tell me."
I almost let out a genuine laugh that time. What did she think she was, this grand teller of fortunes? A blind man would be able to see I was not okay. I felt like my delusions were that obvious. At the same time they weren't exactly easy to understand. Even if Choi knew I daydreamed a lot, she wouldn't exactly understand that I used them to feel emotions because I was detached from my own life. I don't think a normal person is capable of understanding that feeling. Abnormal as I was, I didn't think I was even capable of describing it.
"I'm fine. I'm always fine. Always been. You're just convinced I'm sad or whatever, like always." I forced myself to get off my hands and turn to face her, but my body felt sluggish. In my mind, I weighed more than the whole world in that moment.
Choi's expression was… Hard to describe. She was normally constantly upbeat, and when she got mad about something she was sure to express it. But Choi was never deep with her expressions. She was always easy to read, and I liked that since I wasn't acclimated enough to read deeper things. We worked out great. The look she was giving me was more than what I was used to. More than my mind could interpret.
"You were talking to yourself pretty loudly. I know you need to talk to someone else. Talking to yourself won't do anything."
Oh, but she had no idea. If I really wanted to, I could probably pretend that I was talking to Drage or Sadie. It was possible I might even find more comfort in that since they lived in my head and wouldn't be ashamed of how disgusting my mental state was. If I told a real person, they'd institutionalize me. I didn't respond to her, just staring off behind her so I wouldn't have to focus on her words or her face.
She sighed. "I know you hate talking about yourself, but you did tell me that you had an off relationship with your parents. If they hurt you-"
"They didn't." I cut her off with a nonchalant tone. And that was true. They never did anything to hurt me. It was more that they never did anything to help me, either.
Maybe things would be better if one detail about my parents were changed. They were good people and had above average jobs, so home life was alright. They tried their best to be involved with me, up until the end when my issue had become so ba that I never left my room. My relationship with them was strained for sure. Not because they ever beat me or yelled at me, but because they never noticed anything was wrong with me.
Decent of people as they are, neither of them believed that mental illnesses existed. To them, it was all a bunch of hogwash invented by doctors to get people to come in and get drugs and go to expensive therapy. It was possible that I didn't have a mental illness, but I knew damn well that if I would have had access to a therapist when I was younger that my daydreaming would have never got out of hand. But with them controlling my life, therapy or any other sort of help was a pipe dream. I never so much as uttered the word daydream around them. I could recall the days when I would look up how many days until I turned eighteen so I could get help myself.
No kid should ever have to do that. No kid should ever have to tell themselves that they have to endure something like that until they are eighteen because their parents suck. I hated them for it, but since the reason was so personal no one understood why. Most people who hate their parents have better reasons than me, reasons that make more sense. Reasons that a normal person could sympathize with. Reasons that could be explained.
"You don't have to protect them, Claudia. Everytime I try bringing them up you shut down. If they did something bad, you can tell me. They aren't responsible for you anymore. You don't have to worry about reporting them. It'll be okay." She was horrifically mislead. I didn't even know how to start explaining just how off the mark she was.
Shaking my head, I went about correcting her in the most simple way I could. I didn't feel like explaining my issues to her. Even if I tried, she would be the last person to comprehend it. "No, it's nothing. I don't like them but they didn't do anything to me. Their views on life just… They just didn't understand who I was."
Choi's eyes got this soft, understanding look. For a moment I almost felt like she was catching on. There was a glimmer of hope, and then she started speaking.
"Oh, honey… I'm so sorry. I had no idea…," Choi walked to me again, this time so close to me that I nearly expected a hug. "I should have guessed it though, seeing as how your main character in your last book was gay…"
You're fucking kidding me. She thinks I'm emotionally damaged because she thinks I'm gay?
In what was probably the biggest sigh of my life, I looked down to the floor and rubbed the bridge of my nose. She thinks I'm going through all this suffering in the name of sexuality. My parents were grossly transphobic and homophobic, so if I wasn't straight and cisgender I might have had even more problems with them. Fortunately I ended up fitting the social norm and didn't have to deal with whatever hate I would have gotten. I didn't need any more issues with them beyond their disgusting misunderstanding of mental illness.
Now that I thought about it, maybe my parents were actually shit people. I mean, phobic over something as trivial as gender and sexuality and shunning the idea of mental illness? Why did I ever give them credit for anything?
Nonetheless, I corrected Choi. "No, I'm not gay. Look, there is something up between my parents and I but you seriously won't understand it. I don't even want to talk about it. They never did anything illegal to me, so there's no need to report anyone for anything. Just chill out."
There was a long pause, and lots of eye contact. It seemed like she was searching my eyes for any trace of a lie… And while it made me uncomfortable, I wasn't lying. They never straight up abused me or anything. They just didn't realize everything wrong with me. I did my best to keep on a straight face so she'd believe me. Choi had been long-convinced that my parents did something wrong, mostly due to the fact that I hadn't even called them ever since I got out with all my publishing money. To this day I had no desire to even hear their voices, let alone see their faces.
To my relief, she nodded and broke her intense contact. "If you say so, I'll believe you. But if anything ever comes up with them I want you to call me or the police, promise?"
I nodded.
"Good. So, why were you yelling to yourself just now?" Choi inquired.
Shit, I needed a good reason for this. There were a few paths I could take with this, all of them equally far away from the one thing I wouldn't tell her; the truth. I could take a funny path and play on the fact that I screamed fuck quite a few times… Or I could be more serious and just say I was yelling at my neighbors. After all, I hated kids and the folks above me had a whole slew of them. It was pretty believable.
I shrugged. "Oh, you know me. The stupid kids were running all around and annoying me. I try to be nice but I have no patience for bratty kids."
Choi's eyes got a little skeptical, but she didn't voice any protest to my explanation. "Yeah, they are pretty awful." Was all she said. Thank God she believed it.
I crossed my arms across my chest, feeling a little more comfortable about everything now. Once again I had evaded my problems! I would be able to return to my miserable path in life without any external interference. "So, we talked. Anything else you need from me?"
Surprisingly, she nodded. "Yeah. I know we have avoided speaking of it, but it's actually about Joker."
Rolling my eyes, I went into dismissal mode. "I already told you he wouldn't have fit the part, I don't want to fight about this all over again."
"We aren't gonna fight about it. It was your choice, whatever. I still think he would have been better than that no-name, but whatever!" Choi laughed uncomfortably, overusing the word 'whatever'. She had a habit of doing that when she was ticked off about something. "We aren't gonna talk about it, it's so whatever. But Joker wants to talk to you."
"Is there any need for that? He didn't make it in, I have no reason to be talking to him."
Choi shook her head, curly hair bouncing as she did so. She really was a beautiful person. "He wants to talk to you about the part, yes. And I know you probably won't take it away from Zen, but I encourage you to go anyways. If you diss him he might tattle to the media and you need them on your side."
"For one," I started, pacing around my kitchen as I spoke, "It isn't really dissing if I never accept his invitation in the first place. With that aside, why do I care what the media thinks of me?"
Choi laughed, "Um, you're a public figure? Your books won't sell if the masses hate you, dummy."
"I thought image only mattered for singers and stuff. Authors are supposed to be shit people." I cocked my head, not understanding why I had to put on a facade anymore than I already did on a daily basis.
She shook her head. "No, it matters. If this was a smaller deal you could probably take the hit, but Joker is well-known. More so than even you. And on the dissing note….," Choi held a long pause and didn't make eye contact with me. I felt my chest sink, and I nearly guessed what she said before she even got it out of her mouth.
"I already told him you'd meet him for dinner tonight."
I gave her a good, long look. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree.
"What do you mean you already told him I would meet him for dinner? That's a funny joke, Choi…" My voice got stern, making myself clear that she better have been joking. I could tell by her face that she wasn't though.
"Look, I'm sorry! He called me up since he had my number and asked for you… And I was all flustered because I mean, it's Joker, haha, so I told him you could meet him for dinner-" Choi was talking to fast for me to hardly understand, so I cut her off.
"I already ate dinner with the cast. Even if I wanted to, which I don't, I wouldn't be able to force myself to eat anything more." I explained, exasperated with the situation.
Her voice got high pitched and panicky, searching for a solution. "I don't know! You could always go throw up… No, that's not a healthy thing to be promoting… You smoke, doesn't that make you hungry? Go smoke like six cigarettes and go!"
I rolled my eyes. My tone became even more heavy, annoyed by her ignorance. "You have that completely wrong. Smoking makes you not want to eat, Choi. And didn't you want me to stop doing that anyways? Public image or whatever."
"Just until you're old enough! The media doesn't want a seventeen year old party girl smoker writing books… You know how your audience is. A bunch of pretentious teenage girls who think they are above partying. You have to pander to that!"
Choi always had a problem with my partying thing. I wasn't huge on parties to be honest. I liked them, but I wasn't good enough at socializing to get the full experience. I mostly just went for good music and alcohol. Otherwise, I just sat in the corner and smoked. Hardly a party girl, just a girl who attended parties.
I shook my head yet again. "Woah woah, what does smoking have to do with partying? I don't party with famous people, anyways, just my friends back in Losertown. No one cares what goes down there."
"Your audience likes to jump to conclusions about things. They stereotype the life out of everyone. They see you smoking and even catch whiff of you being a party person, they'll dismiss you and everything you do as below them." Choi explained, trying desperately to reach me. But as always it went over my head. I didn't care.
I didn't respond, so Choi continued. "We'll have this talk another time, it isn't important. Joker wants you to be at the restaurant by nine, so you have a few hours to go get ready and get hungry."
"Did I ever say I was gonna go? Quit jumping to conclusions. He lost the part fair and square and I'm not going to go talk to him again just because he wants to bribe me with food." The situation was so ridiculous I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Joker had a good career going, he could afford to drop my act.
"I just told you that he is going to be waiting for you, and that you need to go for your image. I know you don't like him but please! As a birthday gift, please." Choi held out the word please and flashed her best puppy dog eyes. She was well aware I was immune so such charms, but clearly was desperate enough to pull them out anyhow.
"Your birthday isn't for another three months." I muttered.
She begged nonetheless. "Please."
I was weak, so I started to consider it. Joker seemed like a bratty little kid himself, but he did have a lot of money so the food would be good. And I was strong enough in my resolution on this that I wouldn't dare give away Zen's party. I didn't know the guy well, but he was nice enough to share a cigarette with me and he fit the part way better anyhow. So really no harm would come from visiting him… And since my life was dedicated almost wholly to daydreaming, it wasn't like it was going to be taking away from my precious time. None of my time was precious. Might as well waste it with an attractive guy desperate for my attention. I nodded.
She flashed me a big lipstick grin. "Thank you, thank you! I'm so happy you are gonna go. Maybe consider what he has to say, too."
"Zen got the part fair. I'm not going to reconsider anything. But since you told the man that I'm going, I won't back down. Don't want your word and reputation to be ruined." I gave her a snarky grin, not taking the situation nearly as serious as she was. To be honest, it wasn't likely she cared how serious I took it. She was just happy I didn't make her look foolish with Joker.
"I'll help you get dressed. I so owe you, Claudia!" She chimed, beaming happy energy. I was confused. Why did I need to change?
"I think what I'm wearing will suffice." I cocked my head, not fond of the idea of changing.
But Choi was obviously not on my side, yet again. "No, he's taking taking you somewhere really fancy. That outfit won't do! Not to mention that you wreak of cigarette smoke…"
I hardly noticed it. I guess I smelled a little different than normal, since Zen didn't smoke was I was used to. Even then, when you smoke for awhile your nose gets numb to the smell.
"So you want me to take a bath too, I suppose."
Choi nodded. "I'll pick out an outfit for you. Be sure to wash your hair too, because that stuff really clings to hair. Wouldn't want you smelling all trashy around such a well-known guy!"
I winced, only because I literally had to bite down on my tongue to keep myself from making a snarky comment. In my opinion, no matter what I looked or smelt like, I would be infinitely more classy than Joker. After all, I wasn't the famous one begging for a part in an only moderately noteable play.
As promised, I went to work getting ready. I didn't care much what I looked like this round, but I put in a good effort nonetheless. Joker and I would be high-profile so it was likely that at least one photographer would catch us and I was supposed to look good on camera. I didn't bother curling my hair as normal, opting to simply dry it out and do it as a simple up-do. But as always, I made sure to straighten my blunt-cut bangs. Those things looked atrocious straight out of the wash.
Choi returned with a black wraparound dress. It was simple, but it showed off things I liked about myself. It flared out just enough to not accentuate my huge thighs, but the dollar dipped low enough to show off a feature I did like; my chest. I only wore it when I felt like being flirty, which also meant I never wore the thing outside of the dressing room. I gave her a look.
"It wouldn't hurt for you to flirt with him a little. He's cute, and close enough to your age." Choi didn't make eye contact when she spoke, which was strange for her. Maybe she felt guilty for picking out that dress.
But since I honestly didn't care, I simply snatched it from her hands. "We'll see. But I'll wear the dress, don't worry about that."
Everything else went smooth. I got the dress on of course, found matching shoes, threw on my make up. Choi sniffed me before I left, which was kind of weird.
"Don't look at me like that!" She protested, defending herself in quick words. "You're the one who smokes like a factory. I wanted to make sure you didn't smell like that anymore." And despite my through scrubbing in the bath, she still forced me to be baptized in perfume before she allowed me to walk out of my own door.
As expected of someone like him, there was a limo waiting for me outside. The first few times I was in a limo, I had been impressed. But after a few years of it, the effect wore off on me. Choi never seemed to get over it.
She was grinning big at the sight of the limo, making sure to lock my door as we both exited my apartment. Her voice was all high-pitched when she spoke, clearly enthused. "I wish I could go too! Some girls would kill to have a date with Joker-"
"This isn't a date." I corrected her, but she just rolled her eyes.
"Whatever, party pooper. Just go have fun okay? I'll head home. Text me when you get back. Did you get hungry with all that work you had to do to look good?"
I shook my head. "No. I have a feeling Joker isn't going to make me hungry though."
"Maybe not literally, but maybe in another way." Choi nudged me, giving me a big grin.
Even if I had an appetite, I would have lost it there. Even the idea of that was gross to me. I didn't feel connected enough to anyone to accept something so personal, especially with someone who naturally peeved me off as much as Joker did. I rolled my eyes yet again and walked off, not even gracing her with a proper goodbye.
The walk to his dark limo was not eventful. He noticed my approach and got out of this car, opening up the door for me to get in. The interior was a pretty red, I will say that. I'm weak for the color red.
I was caught up by the color for a moment, pausing before I got in. I regretted that though, because in my pause Joker suddenly placed a hand on my shoulder.
I jolted, forcing my eyes away from the seats to meet his gaze. He had mesmerizing eyes, but there was something off about them. The worst part was that smile. He reminded me of a snake.
"Hello, Claduia. I'm glad that you came out tonight. You won't regret it."
His voice was suddenly so chilling, I wasn't sure that I could agree with that. Yet again I felt frozen. Yet again, I didn't know how to respond to the situation. I wasn't quite in autopilot mode, but I made an autopilot response.
Because all I did was nod.