HEY, MICKEY, YOU'RE SO FINE, YOU'RE SO FINE YOU— I mean. Uh.
R&R maybe? But most importantly, enjoy the chapter.
34. Aura of Others – 7
Shego counted herself lucky to have slipped past Drakken's snoring mother that morning, even if she wasn't convinced the woman wasn't faking it.
On the ride into town, her driver gushed his relief that the impromptu reunion had gone better than he could have hoped, even if it wasn't over yet. Her crossed arms, frown out the window, and small grunts of acknowledgment must have given him a clue to shut up about his mom. She didn't mean to be envious of his mother's acceptance, but it was hard not to be.
He mumbled a vague apology of, "I'm sorry. I'll…I'll be quiet now," which only made her wonder inwardly what he was apologizing for – for talking her ear off or for her own mother abandoning her for becoming a freak?
Either way, she was even unhappier to notice lights were still out in her neighborhood. She scarcely recalled overhearing about the weather knocking out the power last night. Drakken smiled feebly as he pulled to the curb, sparing another sheepish apology, but Shilo rolled her eyes and hopped out of the van before he could propose anything else she'd have to decline. Before she slammed her door shut, he assured her that he'd phone her when the coast was clear, quipping that it was her turn to avoid his family. His humor didn't lighten her mood.
As expected, her dingy studio apartment was freezing, only now there was no electricity to heat it with. She sighed wretchedly, and as she reached for a candle on her dresser, she came to the aggravating realization she had no glow at her disposal to light it with. She skewed her face and focused and concentrated – but no amount of willpower could produce even the tiniest flicker of green plasma from her fingertip. She didn't even own a lighter or matches. She'd never needed them before. Suddenly she wished she had a cigarette, but not badly enough to bum a smoke from her slimy downstairs neighbor.
Groaning hugely, Shilo kicked off her muddy shoes and threw herself down into her cold bed to bundle up in a cocoon of blankets and force herself back to sleep in hopes of sleeping off the effects of the pill.
Taking it at all had been a huge mistake. She scolded herself that she'd never take it again. She swore she'd flush them all down the toilet to make sure of it.
It slipped her mind when she woke up.
She came around to the sound of a laugh track, as the television in the apartment below her was blasting some sitcom. Across the room, her alarm clock blinked, begging to be set. And worst of all, her stomach pleaded with her, scolding her from the inside out for not taking Drakken's offer earlier to stop at Cow-n-Chow for flapjacks.
Shilo groaned and curled up tighter for a minute before extending an arm out over the edge of the bed and willing plasma into her palm. To her relief, it bubbled to life on command. She sighed anyway, deciding that was her sign to get out of bed and light some scented candles to stave off the musty odors of mildew.
The sky outside was bleak. She made note to pick up an analog clock from Smarty Mart because either rainclouds were promising another downpour or daylight was waning by the time she'd washed and dried her hair. She hoped she hadn't squandered her day too badly.
In any case, she inspected her closet, considering what she might wear for an evening excursion around town for a little window-shopping and possibly shoplifting. She was just weighing her options of raiding the Quarter Quarts or pulling the stolen grey sweatpants back on when the trill of the telephone made her jump.
Her hands sparked. As of yet, few phone calls had been good. Either it was Buckley's girls calling to hound her, or the punk guest she'd evicted, or her brothers – or whoever it was, she wasn't eager to find out. She would have been happy to unplug the phone, but she wrung her fingers to get her nerves under control before snatching it off the hook on the last ring.
She waited a moment but was met with silence and static in return. Finally she offered a cautious, "Hello?"
She recognized Drakken's huge relieved sigh on the other end. He must have been waiting to be sure it was her who picked up. An odd giggle followed, and she waited patiently for him to reel in his gleeful laughter. "She's gone!" he all but shouted. "And I'm good! I'm in the clear – this time – she's not making me go to the – oh, Shego, you have no idea," he sputtered. An incoherent noise in rejoice was interrupted by another boyish laugh.
Humming in acknowledgment, Shilo leaned over as far as the cord would allow to take a peek into her fridge. It had stayed cold during the outage, but it wasn't well-stocked. Eggs, cheese, a carton of milk, yogurt – nothing particularly promising for anything more than breakfast, though the bag of cheese was tempting to nibble on.
"So, your night's free?" she asked hopefully just as soon as she could get a word in. Something to do – anything at all – would be a relief from listening to the insistent drip…drip…drip of a leaky roof and pipes.
Drakken had been spouting off about cousin this, cousin that, there wasn't a chance in hell he'd be attending a family gathering with his career path and looking the way he did – but now he stopped short. "F-free? My night. Uhm. I. Uh. I can clear my schedule. S-sure," he stuttered. There was a small whimper as if he were biting his tongue. "But you aren't going to get any booze out of me, you know. That was it – that was the last time. You really freaked me out yesterday."
Alcohol in the equation surely didn't help, but it wasn't solely to blame for her state last night. He couldn't know that though. Nonetheless, Shilo smirked to herself and leaned back on the counter. The thought of bumming off him hadn't crossed her mind, and she probably wouldn't have asked her senior cohort for any anyway, but she might not have turned down an offer either. Last night – as far as she could remember anyway – had been cutting it far too close. Leaving intoxication out of the picture was probably for the best, even if it had been a blast and led to shoving a car off a cliff and feeling pretty nice with his arm around her—
She bit her lip and wound a finger around the cord. "Yeah, yeah," she grumbled. "So, California. You game?" She could use a change of scenery and a nice little road trip to get out of the oasis town.
Drakken was perky as he broke it to her. "There's no rush. New intel came in this morning. It was only a practice run. It turns out his seismic generator is still on the fritz since you brought the roof down on it."
Her shoulders slumped and a sigh slipped out. "Oh. Bummer."
"Bummer?" echoed Drakken. "This is a good thing, Shego. It means—"
"No, I know. It's just…" She quirked her mouth and idly twirled the cord around another finger. Calling off the road trip didn't bother her – until now anyway. Suddenly, with another drizzle beginning to patter on the roof as she looked about her little shoebox of an apartment, going to the coast had some appeal. She didn't realize how homesick she was for the sound of seagulls and crashing waves until now. "I was looking forward to going to the beach, I guess."
Before Drakken could reply, the ding-dong of the doorbell interrupted. Shilo muttered for him to hold that thought and set the phone aside, quietly approaching the door as she racked her brains for who her visitor might be. Mrs. Landlady, most likely, but that angel boy Thomas Thompson probably knew where she lived now thanks to Hugo, and so did Buckley's girls. She wasn't eager to see any of them outside – and as she peeked through the peephole, she wasn't disappointed.
No one in sight, she frowned at the door and began to back away. No sooner did she take a step back did the bell ring again, and this time she cracked the door open as far as the chain would allow. No one was ducked out of sight of the peephole, and in fact she found no one standing outside on the landing at all.
Her brow scrunched as the doorbell rang yet again when she returned to the phone. "Hey, handyman." Ding-dong. "I think my doorbell's on the fritz. Maybe you can take a look at it." Ding-dong. "Should be easier to fix than a seismic whatever."
Drakken grunted unhappily, but grumbled a curt, "Alright. See you in—" Ding dong. "Oh, that is annoying."
"Tell me about it," Shilo muttered as she hung up and cast a glare toward the door.
The bell rang once more, and Shilo stood in her kitchen for several long moments, waiting and watching the door as if any movement at all would set it off. It was silly, she decided, shaking her head as she crossed the room to comb her hair before her vanity mirror. The buggy doorbell had to be due to the damn leaky roof or the rats in the walls screwing with the wiring.
No sooner did she decide the doorbell must have finally died did it ring again.
Gritting her teeth, she leapt up from her spot at the dining table. Barely soothing her aggravation before sparks could fly from her fists, she reminded herself it was probably just Drakken. He was due to show up any time now.
To her relief – somewhat – Drakken was on the other side after all when she flung the door open. He was just raising his knuckles to knock, his brow scrunched together.
"Did you ring the doorbell?" she blurted, hardly relaxing at the sight of him.
"No," he said, perturbed. It wasn't the answer she wanted to hear.
"Are you sure?"
"Shego," he sighed. A roll of his eyes and he rang the doorbell for himself. "I don't see what the problem is," he said dismissively, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Maybe the button was stuck."
She'd like to think so. She leaned out, catching him by the arm as she stole a glance about, and pulled him in. "Did you bring any tools, just in case?"
"I have a Phillips," he said helpfully, producing a small screwdriver from his back pocket, probably taken straight from the van glove box. He glanced back toward the open door and nodded toward the buggy doorbell. "You could put a pin in it and come check out the new foosball table in the rec room," he suggested, smiling with the barest hint of hope.
"Wow, that does sound tempting," she mocked. Her brow furrowed curiously as she caught a whiff of something sweet on him, and she scoffed. "Your mama's been baking for you, hasn't she?" Maple was a lot nicer than oil and elbow grease, except it reminded her that she was famished.
"For the whole crew, actually," confirmed Drakken with a sheepish chuckle. "You should've been there."
Shilo crossed her arms and glanced back toward the doorbell that clearly wasn't getting fixed anytime soon. "Funny," she shot back, kicking the door shut. "You didn't want her knowing about me earlier." Not that she particularly wanted his mother knowing about her, or to have to pretend she was merely some sort of nurse or assistant or receptionist – or worse, a cleaning lady. She sure as hell wasn't one of the Dr. Drakken's patients.
His smile fell and he scowled. "Oh, be reasonable. I had enough to explain and I barely got off the hook as it is. Right now, she bought the cockamamie story that I'm a psychiatrist and the henchmen are my patients, and that's good enough."
"So, the whole lair and Hench-brand jumpsuits thing didn't seem unusual at all, huh? It's not exactly the typical madhouse you're running there, Doc," she teased.
Drakken relaxed and flashed her a smile. "She just thinks I'm eccentric," he said with a flippant gesture to himself. His smile wavered and he cleared his throat then, nodding to the door Shilo was about to chain shut out of habit. "The doorbell doesn't seem to be acting up anymore. You didn't by chance have any plans or a reason for calling me out here this early, did you? Because I am a busy man, you know."
"We could still go to California," she suggested off the top of her head. "Just for the hell of it. Hit a few places along the way." The thought of warm sand and making use of hotel perks like a hot tub was as appealing as a change of scenery.
He grunted. "We'd be pushing it too close. And I'm not giving up another of my family recipes to buy you another day off from Buckley's. Not so soon anyway."
"Stingy," she scoffed. The interrupting ding-dong of the doorbell earned a groan of frustration from her. She gestured to the door and all but whined, "Drakken."
The man snorted and crossed his arms, nose up almost snootily. "I'm not your handyman."
"You were when I moved here," retorted Shilo.
After a long stubborn pause, he blew a raspberry and grumbled, "Alright, alright," with his hands up in forfeit, screwdriver in one. "I'll see what I can do—oh snap." Just as she'd turned to retreat to the kitchen table to watch him troubleshoot, the door slammed shut and Drakken was scurrying around as if to hide behind her. "You have a visitor," he hissed, spinning her back toward the door.
Her heart sank and she lowered her voice, uttering the obvious question, "Who?" If it was her brothers again, she was screwed – but if it was them, Hugo would have knocked the door down by now. Thomas Thompson, or Buckley, or any of Buckley's girls crossed her mind, but any of them would have been preferable to who she opened up to find standing outside.
She stared down at a petite blonde decked out in too much pink – and before she could give it more than a second to process, Shilo drew back a fist to deck the girl, missing by a hair's breadth as the visitor bent backward against the railing with a startled gasp.
Shilo lunged without so much as a hello.
The impulse to pummel the girl until her knuckles bled burned her from the inside out, and her hands tingled as alien fire begged to burst from the surface. Digging her nails into the girl's shoulders wasn't enough, and a handful of hair yanking Shilo's head sharply to the side wasn't enough to dislodge her either.
She tried to take another swing at the startled blonde's pretty face, but a heel in her gut and a shove, and the world was sent topsy-turvy and spiraling. They were falling – that was alright – Shego had taken worse falls than a tumble down a staircase. A caterwaul of a battle cry tore from her as she bore down on the throat of the former friend.
Before she could feed the girl an overdue knuckle sandwich, her wrist was caught in a firm grip and all at once the animosity and fire was inexplicably smothered. She stared, stunned and pliable, as she was pried away from the blonde choking for breath on the filthy cement beneath her.
"Long time, no see, Shi," came a deep honeyed voice that sent a shiver down her spine.
It was much more agreeable anyway than the crass, "Still a bitch, I see," from Priscilla as she picked herself up.
Gawping back at the strapping young man behind her, Shilo jerked her wrist free and stepped back. Looking at Priscilla only rekindled a just rage, but Mickey was golden. He'd done her no wrong. Not really, anyway. Seeing the two together was nothing unusual. But seeing either of them here, thousands of miles from Go City – now that was unusual.
"How did – why would you – what are you doing here?" Shilo snapped, trying to draw upon the anger from moments ago.
Priscilla brushed herself off, or tried to anyway. Her backside was damp and dirty now, white jeans certainly stained. Good. "A little bird told me," she said smugly.
Mickey elbowed her. "She's been babysitting your little brothers," he explained awkwardly.
The news was shocking and a little bit crushing, even if unbelievable. In recent years, the old friend had wanted nothing to do with the Gough family – nothing to do with her – after being just short of family one day and a stranger the next. If deserting was the worst of Priscilla's transgressions, Shilo might not be curling her fists right now. She suddenly wished now that she'd spent more time with her family during their visit. Maybe then she would have had some sort of heads up to expect the backstabber. They hadn't even mentioned her.
"And I had to see for myself when your dweeby brother spilled everything," added Prissy. "Well, almost everything. Didn't mention you ran away to join a different circus. Can't say I'm surprised."
The former best friend still knew just how to get under her skin in the worst of ways. Practically bristling, Shilo repeated through grit teeth, "What are you doing here?"
"Dropping in to say hi, duh," said Priscilla as if it were obvious. She wiggled her fingers then in a mock wave, as if Shilo hadn't just been laying into her and about to knock her teeth out. "So. Hi. You gonna invite us in or what? C'mon, we've got some catching up to do, girlfriend."
"When hell freezes over," she retorted, and whipped around to retreat up the staircase. She paused, her boiling blood running cold for a split second as she spied Drakken watching from the top with his brow raised. "What, no popcorn this time?" she barked as she stormed up.
"You know them?" he wondered, as if it weren't obvious enough.
As she reached him, Shilo shot a glare over her shoulder at Priscilla Kimbley still standing at the bottom with Mickey Goldsmith, the young man trying his best to whisper and gesture Prissy away toward the old jeep parked at the end of the block. "I thought I did," she hissed, and grabbed Drakken by an arm to tow him back inside and away from the rat.