I just hit the floor,
Don't ask for more,
I'm wasting my time.
It's freezing here.
Troy, it's eighty degrees.
Yeah, well, in Hell it's probably one-ten.
Troy stuffed his hands in his pockets and peered around the crowded sidewalk of New York City. Everyone walking here had an expression of either pure boredom or distaste for where they were going. The streets were jammed with traffic, every other car honking their horn like they expected it to make a difference. The air was filled with the acrid stink of gasoline and smoke, considering every other personhad a cigarette between their teeth and the buses belched out puffs of brown smoke into the air every few seconds.
You lived in this place before you were shot? He asked Aratinga, cocking an eyebrow.
No. The bird told him stiffly. I lived in the country. Not many people or cars down there. Mostly grass and clean air.
Sounds nice.
A lot better than this place.
I'll bet.
He made his way through the crowd, only guided by the red of Aratinga's tail as he flew from roof to roof of the stores lining the street. The only places that didn't seem to have a body were the benches and alleys. Somewhere—he couldn't remember where—Troy bumped shoulders painfully with a man in a black tux and found himself being moved farther by the crowd than his own feet. This place made Hell feel almost empty, but, Hell was a lot bigger, and probably had a thousand times more souls that this City.
There's an apartment downtown that can use another roommate. We're going to see if you can stay there.
Don't we need money?
You have more in the other pocket.
Oh.
By the time they reached downtown, the temperature dropped three degrees and the sun was a few 'inches' lower in the sky. Not that it made a difference to Troy—when it was cold, it was cold. Seventy-seven degrees or eighty, it was still colder than Hell had ever been. And the dark? Screw it, no time on Earth is illuminated the same way as Hell. It was different in every way, but not better or worse. The only reason Earth could be considered worse was the fact that he had no power whatsoever—but neither did the people.
They walked up the dim hallway of the apartment building with a leisurely pace.
The floor was covered by a carpet in an ugly shade of green and Troy could guess that it was once shag, but years of being trampled over had turned it to a flat mat with nearly no padding walls were long planks of wood, smoothed to the point of shine, and lit by small lamps protruding from the wood. Despite it's rundown appearance, the building had a homey feel to it.
Troy knocked uncertainly one the large black door labeled 'room 325' and clutched the laminated ad in his other hand. It took a moment of shuffling noises from the other side before the door opened to reveal a tall African-American young man with a large black afro of hair on his head. The small beginnings of a beard were placed on his chin, which was angled perfectly beneath his face. He wore a white t-shirt and khaki shorts.
"Hey, man." He said lightly. "What's up?"
Troy held up the ad and rose his eyebrows suggestively. The man studied it for less than a moment before his face broke out into a huge grin.
"Chad." He said, sticking out a hand. Troy took it with a firm grip and smiled.
"Troy." He coughed and motioned to the red parakeet on his shoulder. "And this is Aratinga."
Chad studied the bird carefully. "Is it, you know…trained?" He asked skeptically.
How rude.Aratinga thought unhappily.
Troy laughed. "Would he be on my shoulder if he wasn't?"
Chad's skeptic look was replaced with amusement.
"I hope not."
---
The apartment was a large, three-bedroom, two-bathroom suite. There was a living area right inside of the door, with two couches angled strangely in front of a large TV and hardwood floors that looked ten times newer than the rest of the room. It was hard to tell what color the walls were; there were posters of Led Zeppelin, Ozzy Osborne, and other bands and movies Troy had never heard of. The living area was joined with the kitchen by a bar that was the length of half the room.
Troy, Chad, and now Jason, a husky brunette with mushroom-cap styled hair, who had moved into the apartment with Chad after high school, were sitting on the couches watching college basketball—Hartford against New Hampshire. By now Chad was on his feet, yelling about fouls and Troy was slowly learning the game by watching the players dart up and down the court. Jason was still seated, grinning and laughing at Chad's reactions.
He looked over at Troy and down at the red medallion dangling from his neck.
"What's that?" He asked, jerking his head to show what he meant.
Troy's hand automatically grasped the sphere as if to make sure it was still there. The sun glinted off of the white half crescent from the window. "This?"
Aratinga shuffled uncomfortably from the window sill. Jason nodded as Chad sat down, looking just as curious.
You can't tell them, Troy.
I know that.
"It's just a medallion." He said carefully. "It was...a gift."
Chad squinted at it for a closer look and nodded approvingly. "Cool."
They turned back to the TV as someone scored a half-court shot. Chad whooped and fell back into the couch and Jason grabbed the hair at the side of his head and yelled. Even Troy was impressed. The game continued and the boys got more and more enthusiastic until all three of them were jumping and laughing and falling back into the couches together. Eventually the game ended—Albany beating New Hampshire by one point. Troy, Chad, and Jason were panting more than the players walking off the court when Jason got up and passed a beer to each of them.
"Are we all of age, children?" He joked, and Troy had a feeling he would give it to them anyways. He would give himself and extra year, just in case someone asked. Twenty-one. The beer stung his throat, but only slightly and it was worth the taste and light buzz in the back of his head.
They all looked up in unison when a creek outside of the door sounded and was followed by light giggles in a pitch that was surely young women. Chad grinned even wider and dumped the rest of the beer down his throat before standing up and rubbing his hands together. Jason grabbed Troy's arm and pulled him out of the way between Chad and the door, seconds before it opened. He was still in the half falling position when a flurry of blonde hair ran straight from the door and into Chad's arms. She was followed by another girl, much more slowly, with long, dark brown locks of hair falling off of her shoulders neatly.
Gabriella!
Gabriella paused in mid step when she saw Troy, her beautiful brown orbs for eyes widened in surprise and a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
"Hey, Troy." She said sweetly. He smiled and waved slightly, straightening his position of mid-fall.
The blonde one looked up from Chad's embrace. "Ooh," She sang. "Is this your new roomie?"
"Yes, ma'am. That's Sharpay." Jason said, throwing an arm over Troy's shoulder. He glanced at Gabriella and back to Troy. "You two know each other from somewhere?"
Troy rubbed the back of his neck as Gabriella giggled. "Uh, yeah…McDonalds."
"At three in the morning." Gabriella added. Chad rose his eyebrows, holding Sharpay close to his side.
"And, may I ask, Troy, what the hell were you doing out at three in the morning?"
Troy coughed awkwardly as Aratinga flew back to the windowsill from wherever he'd journeyed during the game. "Sleeping."
Chad and Jason both threw their heads back and laughed, Jason patting Troy on the back harder than necessary. Gabriella and Sharpay glanced at him sympathetically. Jason passed another beer to Sharpay and held one out in front of Gabriella without letting it go.
"You, little lady, are not old enough for alcohol." He said, poking her shoulder. Troy blinked in surprise. How young was she? Gabriella laughed and pushed the beer towards him.
"That's alright." She said mischievously. "You guys only have the cheap stuff anyways."
"Yup," Sharpay said, licking her lips after what seemed to be a kiss Troy had missed when he was busy staring at Gabriella. "Gabby only likes Belvedere on the rocks with lemon. Very picky."
Gabriella winked at Troy quickly so only he could see, and having her this tantalizingly close, talking about alcohol, and winking at him was only too much to bear. It took very much self-control to not walk—no run—over there and make her his on the spot. Aratinga scolded him for having such thoughts. "I don't drink that much anyways, so why not go to town when I do?"
He laughed and Sharpay rose her glass and yelled, "Cheers to that!"
---
Troy sat on the floor in front of the couch, leaning comfortably against Gabriella's legs, stroking the blue spot under Aratinga's beak as "The Grudge" played on the TV screen in front of the group. The girl's had each claimed a couch for their own, leaving the boy's to find a spot on the floor—not that he minded. It was past midnight, and Sharpay already looked half-asleep with Chad absently stroking her hair.
We've wasted a day. Aratinga sighed.
I know. We'll start early tomorrow.
Then you should get some sleep. Devil knows your going to have a hangover.
How am I supposed to find them, anyways? It's not like they'll happily walk up to me if I call for them. He thought impatiently, ignoring the second comment.
Your best bet would be to skim through the minds of the people on the street. Normal humans won't have any defenses and it'll take less than a second to know if they're one of your brothers.
It'll be tedious.
Aratinga recoiled in shock at his reluctant mood. But isn't it worth saving your father's life? And Hell too!
I know! It is! He said quickly, hurt that he would think so low of him. I'll do whatever I have too.
A sudden jolt in the couch behind him made Troy snap out of his conversation with Aratinga. He looked up to see Gabriella sitting straight up, her sides heaving and her eyes wide in fright.
"Gabriella?" He whispered, noticing that the people around him were asleep. She looked over at him and relaxed, running her hands through her hair.
"Sorry.." She said breathlessly. "I guess I fell asleep. Bad dream…"
He looked back at the clock. Almost one. Troy sighed and pushed himself up off the ground, Aratinga fluttering to his shoulder. He tossed Gabriella a few pillows and a blanket from the floor, knowing that somehow offering her his room would make her uncomfortable. He stretched and yawned.
"It's okay, right?" He said, and when she—quite adorably—turned her head to the side, he added, "The dream, it's over, right?—Good so go back to sleep."
He clicked off the TV and walked towards his bed room, hearing a soft "good-night" from the girl on the couch, but felt that he wasn't supposed to hear so he didn't react.
Whatever I have to do.
AHHH it's so short!!!
I considered this before I uploaded, but then realized that I don't want to add the next events in this one quite yet..
And it took a while too! Sorry sorry sorry (times 3) I had family over, then 4th of July celebrations..
Who was I to think I would have more time to update in the summer?
Oh well...review? :)