Alexandria lounged on a backyard patio chair, hunched over artwork she'd labored at for the past hour. Her charcoal pencil left black flakes in its wake and she blew off the offending particles, scattering them to the warm fall breeze. Taking a moment's reprieve, she inspected her work and grimaced. It was supposed to be the Meaford skyline outside her old apartment, something she'd seen countless times before and should get right. Rather, what was on the page was a mess of unfamiliar structures with steepled towers and twisted honeycomb arches.
Why does this always happen? she thought, clamping the pencil between her teeth and running a well-used eraser across the newest section. The ugliness remained and was even worse than before.
Her shoulders sagged. Every time…
It was always the same when she drew from memory, didn't matter the subject. A mix of realism and abstraction bleeding together with unappealing—if not unique—results. Poor representations of the images she'd pictured and failed to translate. When others viewed her art, most of the time they would hum and hah and nod slowly, kindly. The rather bolder ones acted as if in an epiphany, saying they sawor- laughably-understood the meaning even though she herself had no fucking clue. It wasn't fun watching adults blatantly lie.
The only ones who told her the truth were physicians.
And she didn't show them her work anymore.
Withholding the urge to shred the drawing into a million satisfying strips, Alex switched to a softer pencil and tried to correct the areas that bothered her the most. The eerie spirals that pierced a bleak sky were much too foreboding for her taste.
More lines were added to the others, softening the sharp peaks, but the pencil soon stilled and she stared at the spot it rested for a long moment.
"Dammit." She flopped back against the chair with a sigh, one arm cast over her eyes.
It was pathetic how frustrated she got. Her artistic abilities weren't going to magically change for the better, especially after all this time. "Embrace your creativity," her mother had told her and the advice sounded solid at the time. Alex tried and for a while it worked. Until she drew her mother's portrait. The vacant socket where a right eye should be and the cables that twisted about her head were terrifying.
She'd burned that picture.
With a huff and deciding the cityscape could wait for another day, the sketch was freed from its pad and put inside the clamshell box beside her. A wafer-thin sheet of glassine paper covered the fragile medium.
Armed with a fresh page, she looked around for inspiration.
Her gaze settled on Sam's car.
The Camaro sat just beyond the open doors of the garage, shining in the sunlight, not a speck of dirt on its yellow and black panels.
A pristine epitome of American motoring greatness.
He must wash that thing daily, she thought, selecting a pencil with a harder composition and outlining its general shape on the paper.
Drawing was much easier this time around, thanks to having a model and not just her shotty memory. WIth a workable rough sketch, Alex relaxed against the chair and chipped away at the Camaro's details, transforming the vacant framework into something sleek and stylish and worthy of its predecessor.
Just as she started to add value to the picture, the patio door whacked sharply behind her.
"Hey, that's a pretty good drawing of him," a male voice spoke up.
Alex paused and cast a curious look over her shoulder. "You don't consider your car a female?"
Sam, munching loudly on an apple, shrugged as he joined her. "Er no, but isn't that how it is? Cars are boys, boats girls?" He leaned over to inspect the plastic bin holding her art supplies.
"I think you're asking the wrong person." She grinned, holding up the drawing to compare it to the original. "You think it's good, huh? Nice to know I can still draw from observation—uh careful with that," she warned as Sam grabbed her crafting knife.
A curious expression crossed his face. "What on Earth do you use this for? Defending yourself from competition?" He waved it in front of him, making whooshing sounds suspiciously similar to a lightsaber. His voice rose to a higher note, mimicking her tone. "You think you can just steal my art? I'll cut you!"
"No you dork." Alex laughed, holding up a pencil. "You sharpen these with it."
"Oh... Well that's disappointing." The knife dropped back in the bin. "I rather enjoyed picturing a bunch of artists in a death brawl. Paint getting all over. Brushes flying through the air."
"Oh, the humanity," she drawled.
"Right?" He looked proud of himself for coming up with the concept. "Art would be cool if that happened."
Alex erased a few areas on the Camaro, giving it the impression of glinting highlights under a bright light source. "You know, art is supposed to be relaxing, Sam, not violent," she teased. "So sorry, I really don't think your art fight club is going to work out."
"Just give it a few years, it'll catch on." He polished off the remainder of his apple and tossed it in a nearby garbage bin. "Hey, I'm heading out to the beach, wanna come along?" He jerked a thumb at his car. "Pretty awesome ride on the freeway."
"The beach?" The pencil rolled between her fingers as she mulled over the invitation. "Been a while since I've been to one."
"It'll be fun. There's a boardwalk there with an arcade and some decent grub. Water's usually still warm this time of year."
Alex's gaze dropped to the clamshell box. She certainly wasn't doing anything important and her productivity was abysmal. A change of scenery might just be the boost she needed.
"Alright." She packed away her things. "Just give me about ten minutes to get ready." As ideal as her paint-stained button up and pajama pants were for Sunday morning lounging, they were a little too casual for the public.
"Sure thing." Sam grinned ear-to-ear. "I'll let Mikaela and Miles know we're on our way."
Alex stopped short. "Oh... you already have people you're going with?"
"Yeah." Sam, phone already open in his palm, looked up at her from his spot on the lawn. "That okay?"
"I guess—I mean—of course it's okay. I just don't want to intrude… or anything." She was glad her arms were full. Better than wringing her hands together uselessly. "Wait, you know what"—she cut off Sam's reply and plastered on a fake smile—"ignore what I just said. I'll be ready in ten—er—fifteen minutes, okay?"
"I… uh, okay?"
Leaving a bewildered Sam behind, Alex raced to her room. The art supplies were shoved unceremoniously under the bed and her clothing flung to the floor as she stripped down to her underwear, almost losing her footing and face planting into the carpet in the process.
So much for a relaxed outing with her cousin.
Most of her nice clothes had been put away in the closet already and the hangers screeched against the metal bar as she scoured her options.
Dress. Dress. Something she wore to a wedding once. Oh God, no. Ugly skirt. Another dress.
Don't I own anything remotely—oh wait…
With a triumphant cry she pulled out the lacy peasant shirt. Its delicate pattern and long bell sleeves made it fancy enough to give a good impression. Paired with jean shorts and flat sandals, she deemed the outfit acceptable after a quick view in the mirror and raced to the bathroom to refresh her makeup and hair.
Alex was back outside in twelve minutes flat, huffing and puffing and clutching a purse full of random things she'd thrown into it along with her wallet.
Sam watched from his position against the car's front bumper, an amused smile on his face.
"What?" Alex asked between breaths as she joined him.
"It's just the beach." He gave her dolled-up appearance a pointed once over.
"I know." She slung the bag over her shoulder and gave him an equal, if not challenging, look. "But have you seen your girlfriend?"
"Well, yeah. She's pretty—"
"Gorgeous. And I'd prefer not to look like a bag of garbage next to her."
A snort and eye roll was her answer and Sam opened the passenger door. "Just get in, oh-silly-one."
Alex scooted around him and slid into the front seat, shifting over a bit as the door was closed. Once inside, she got a good view of the interior she'd seen previously through tinted glass.
Impressive only began to describe it.
Her hand traveled over the trim to the handle and then up to the seatbelt, which she pulled across her lap, securing the buckle into its latch. Her hands settled on the seat, thumb circling against the leather, which was rich and plush. She sunk into the supportive curves with a blissful sigh.
Lucky bastard, she thought, an idiotic grin plastered on her face. She inhaled deeply and was met with a wonderful fresh scent. Fully expecting something along the lines of a 'new car', it surprised her there weren't any harsh or cheap odors lingering in the air. Just a warm, perhaps even spicy, clean smell that reminded her a bit of sandalwood.
Sam, fully aware of the effect the car was having, gave her a wide smile as he joined her, taking position in the driver's seat "Nice, huh?"
"You lucky bastard!" she repeated aloud with a laugh, giving an appreciative look along the dash. "This is a beautiful car, Sam. It really is."
He chuckled, "Wait until you see him in action." He turned the keys in the ignition and the Camaro's engine roared to life.
Alex shivered, the vibrations purring beneath her. "This thing must fly," she breathed in awe as Sam drove down the laneway and took a right onto the street. "How fast can it go?"
"Zero to sixty in just under four seconds. Two hundred miles per hour max speed," he bragged.
"There's no way you've done two hundred," she scoffed.
"No but got up there. About one ten. One twenty."
Alex gave him a teasing grin, "And you still have your driver's licence?"
"There's a race track that I go to sometimes with Mikalea," he explained. "She's a real car nut. Anyway, that's where I get away with driving at those speeds."
"Your parents don't object?" Alex cocked a brow. The speeds he was describing were pretty damn fast. "That is assuming they know about your race track."
He hissed through his teeth. "Ahh… let's just say they do and they don't."
"Way to be clear on that, Sammie."
"They know about the track, they just don't know about the speed. Why?" He caught her fraught expression. "You worried about me?"
"It is fast…" She shifted in her seat, arms crossing her torso in a gentle squeeze.
"I'll be okay," His voice was soft, the humor of the conversation fading. "You'd be surprised how many safety features this car has." His hand patted the steering wheel and the Camaro rumbled as if in agreement.
Somewhat appeased, she gave him a nod. They engaged in a bit of small talk as they made their way to their first destination. Along the way Sam pointed out a few places he thought she might be interested: a new shopping plaza popular with the girls from his highschool, an ice cream parlor boasting one hundred flavors to choose from, a giant youth center with a fairly active nightlife during the weekdays.
It was a very sweet gesture on his part and she felt a deep appreciation for his company.
Soon they were pulling up the stoney driveway of a sprawling red-brick ranch. Sam left the Camaro running as he got out.
"Be right back—er—what are you doing?" he asked as Alex got out as well.
"Moving." Her fingers felt along the seat for the controls. They barely grazed them when the seat slid forward. "Figured girlfriends get automatic shotgun."
"You might want to hold that thought seeing how this is Miles' place," Sam replied.
"Too late, already getting in."
He rolled his eyes and jogged up to the house, only to have the door open before he could knock.
Alex inspected Sam's friend as the boys greeted each other with handshakes, fist bumps and laughter. Miles appeared harmless enough. His skin was the typical bronze from California living and the hair that flipped up at its ends above his shoulders was a strawberry-blonde color she envied. "Game Over" was scrawled across the front of the loose grey T-shirt he wore and it was paired with long colorful Hawaiian shorts and chunky sandals. A playful combination. Very fitting for the goofy grin plastered to his face and the snippets of conversation about skateboarding she could make out.
"Alex, you remember Miles, right?" Sam gestured to his friend as they got into the car.
"Hey," Miles said, reaching back a hand. "It's been awhile."
"Hey," she echoed, clasping her hand in his in a brief shake, his grip lax but warm. "I think the last time I saw you was at your tenth birthday party. The one with the slip-and-slide."
"Oh yeah!" Miles turned to Sam, "Remember that slide? That thing was the bomb, especially after we added the—oh what was it…"
"The mud pit?"
Miles snapped his fingers. "Yeah, the mud pit. Man, that slide was the best."
"Unless you count the time we tried using it down the hill in your backyard. I still have the grass burns." Sam chuckled as they headed out onto the road. "We made that thing a death trap."
"Science. All in the name of science." Miles kicked back in the front, one foot up pressing against the dash.
"Dude. Feet." Sam snapped.
"Oh, sorry, man." The foot dropped back to the floor and Miles wiped at the dusty print he left behind. "Keep forgetting you're not driving that shitty beat-up Camaro anymore."
The car gave a deep-throated growl as they rounded a corner.
"Wait," Alex caught Sam's eye in the rearview mirror. "You had another Camaro before this one?"
Sam shook his head. "No, not really. That one was just a tester."
"And then daddy surprised him with this bad boy." Miles flashed a grin at Alex. "Must have taken some epic level brown-nosing to pull that off."
"Miles, shut up," Sam said.
"No, you shut up."
The two bickered back and forth, flinging mild-mannered insults, before dissolving into an in depth discussion about a new video game Miles just bought.
Alex, now no longer a part of the conversation, leaned against the side of the car, watching the scenery as it passed by. She didn't mind. There wasn't much to contribute anyway and nothing was worse than forcing a conversation. Besides, Sam and Miles seemed fully content to chatter between themselves.
Here's hoping it goes well with Mikaela, she thought, eyes downcast. Her fingers, which were splayed on the seat, curled into a fist. Experience taught her that girls tended to be harder to read compared to their male counterparts; often showing one face while hiding another.
The popular ones especially and, by the way Sam described her, it sounded like Mikaela ran in those circles.
The car slowed to a stop in an alleyway behind a small bungalow packed tightly between other copies of itself. The yards were divided by a mix of chain link and wooden fences, keeping both passersby and neighbors separated from each other. There came barking from the house closest to them and Alex could see the legs of a large dog pacing back and forth behind the gate.
"Gonna get Mikaela, be right back," Sam said in a rush as he jumped out.
Alex could hear Sam yelling the dog's name and ordering him to stay down as he squeezed through the sliver of space he allowed himself to get into the property.
"Guess I have to change seats because we can't put Bunny in the back" Miles muttered, unlatching his door.
"Sorry?" Alex shifted over to the opposite side as Miles joined her and buckled in.
He shook his head. "Nevermind."
Silence descended over the car as Miles watched the house. Something had changed in the last moment. A dark cloud hanging over him even though his expression remained neutral. She couldn't figure it out.
Thankfully, they didn't have to wait long.
The happy couple appeared at the door, smoothing down hair and adjusting clothing. Alex smiled and shook her head as Sam tried and failed to hide the telltale wipe he gave his lips. Once Bones the dog was shooed inside, the pair were climbing into the car and another round of introductions began.
Sam, with the biggest grin she'd seen yet, gestured to the newcomer whose picture definitely did not do her justice.
Thank God I changed...
"Alex, this is my girlfriend, Mikaela Banes. Mikaela, this is my cousin, Alex Taylor."
"Nice to meet you." Mikaela's voice was soft and kind and she gave a little wave as she settled into the passenger's seat. "Sam's told me a lot about you."
"Oh?" She managed to suppress a flinch.
Sam piped up. "Only good things, don't worry." His tone was playful but the look she received in the mirror was serious.
"I've heard about you too," Alex echoed. "From both Sam and his parents. All good things as well."
Mikaela flashed a set of dazzling white teeth her way before twisting in her seat to greet Miles. He simply nodded in reply.
There was less conversation during the last leg to the beach and Sam switched on the radio part way there. Catchy rock filtered through the speakers and Alex sang along silently, tapping periodically to the beat. The music was entertaining and also acted as an icebreaker to whatever was going on between Miles and Mikaela. Alex glanced Sam's way but if he was aware of the atmosphere he didn't give any indication of it.
As the ocean appeared, banked by white sands and a cloudless blue sky, Alex reveled in the picturesque scenery. "I forgot how beautiful this place was."
"It went through a rough period," Mikaela spoke up. "Trash and vandalism. There was also a massive overgrowth of weeds. But the city put money into restoring the shoreline and now it's something to be proud of."
"It sounds like you've been here a lot."
"Quite a bit growing up," Mikaela explained. "My dad had a couple of… well, I guess you would call them business partners around here, so while he was working, I got to spend hours here just hanging out and stuffing myself silly with corn-dogs and cotton candy."
Alex frowned. What kind of parent took their child to a beach and then abandoned them?
The way MIkaela's gaze trailed away as she spoke made Alex suspect the other girl shared her sentiment.
The Camaro jerked lightly as Sam pulled to a stop in a parking spot facing the water. Alex stretched as she got out, inhaling the warm salty breeze.
Sam and Miles took off, racing down the dunes to the shoreline where they immediately started to splash in the surf and throw clumps of wet sand at each other. Mikaela joined Alex's side.
"Seventeen and going on twelve." She sighed and tilted her head their way. "I don't suppose you want to join them?"
"As long as I stay out of their range."
"Yeaah," Mikaela drawled as Miles successfully shoved a huge handful of sand down the back of Sam's collar making Sam yelp and hastily tear off his shift to get at the offending mess. "I don't feel like getting sand into certain crevices today either."
The two of them removed their shoes and walked along the water's edge, trailing after the boys. Alex was surprised that even when Sam and Miles settled down and began combing the beach for shells and other treasures, Mikaela remained by her side, indulging her in light conversation revolving around school and the latest music and shows. It was vastly different from what Alex imagined and as she listened to Mikaela reveal herself little by little she felt ashamed for judging her so quickly.
"Hey, aren't you hot in that?"
Alex snapped out of her thoughts. They were back in the parking lot. Mikaela gestured to Alex's shirt before climbing up to perch on the hood of the Camaro.
"I'd be sweltering in long sleeves," Mikaela pulled away the hair trailing at her neck to fan herself. Overhead, the midday sun beat down on the pair.
"It's a light fabric…" Alex replied, her brows pinching together as she looked between Mikaela and the car.
Catching on, Mikaela laughed and patted a spot beside her. "Don't worry. It's completely fine if we sit up here."
A little odd, considering Sams' earlier reaction to Miles.
"Actually, I was thinking of grabbing a drink. Want anything?" Alex looked at the nearby food shops along the boardwalk. The variety was impressive and her mouth started to salivate from the sweet odor of baked goods. Everything deep fried, unhealthy, and delicious.
"Oh, sure," Mikaela dug in her purse. "A lemonade would be great. Want me to come with you?"
Alex waved her away. "No, that's okay. Also my treat."
She left Mikaela and went off in search of something cold and refreshing.
The boardwalk was alive with all sorts of sights and sounds and soon Alex became swallowed by the crowd moving through and around the various shops and eateries. In the far distance the iconic shape of a Ferris wheel turning lazily against the blue sky and she admired the sight, thinking how pretty the lights would look backed by a starry sky and dark water. Faint screams from thrill seekers rose just above the din around her and a giant pendulum ride spun vertically, end over end, further out on the pier. Her stomach churned. Nope. No way. It'd be a cold day in hell before she was crazy enough to go on something like that.
Selecting an appealing drink vendor she purchased two lemonades and a paper cone stuffed with churros. She carefully made her way back to the parking lot, weaving around obstacles that threatened to knock the cups from her hands while trying to eloquently nibble away at the sugar-coated treat.
On rounding a kiosk she caught sight of Mikaela alone, still perched on the Camaro's hood. The girl was smiling and laughing and—unless Alex was seeing things—having an animated conversation with herself. Maybe too much sun and sugar were to blame for Mikaela noticed her presence and acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
"Thanks so much for this." Mikaela graciously accepted the lemonade along with an offered churro. Alex cautiously joined her on the hood.
"Sam and Miles just left for the arcade. I said we'd join them after this," Mikaela said.
Alex nodded and the two of them sat quietly watching the ocean. Gulls fluttered about along the shoreline, occasionally letting loose their characteristic laughing calls.
"So… does your dad still work around here?" Alex asked, casting a glance along the buildings lining the nearby street.
Mikaela was quiet for a moment. "No, not for a while now. He's actually been away from home due to some issues with his job." She fiddled with the tip of her straw, stirring the quickly melting ice cubes left in the bottom of the cup. "It's been… difficult without him."
"And your mom?"
A dry laugh escaped her. "I'm not sure. I haven't seen her since she packed up and moved to Maine; too busy with her new husband and son."
"Oh, I'm sorry..." Alex said softly.
Mikaela took Alex's empty cup from her and left the Camaro to toss them in the nearby trash. "You don't need to look so worried." She gave a half-smile back at her. "It happened a long time ago."
"It's just you and your dad then?"
"And Stacey. The girlfriend," Mikaela caught Alex's questioning look. She rejoined her on the car. "Good ol' Stacey. Hanging around in the house even though he's not there anymore. I guess she means well. Trying to to play mom sometimes..." Mikaela shook her head back and forth slowly. "She's not really good at it though and more often than not I'm the one telling her bills need to be paid… groceries need to be bought."
Mikaela stared off into the distance at the ocean rolling lazily toward them. Frothy peaks broke as they hit the shore. Alex studied Mikaela's face noticing she appeared older in that moment, creases across her brow where worry marred her before. The look of someone growing up faster than needed.
Alex knew that look.
She had seen it many times in her own reflection.
The moment was fleeting and Mikaela quickly hid her pain with a flick of her wrist, brushing hair away from her face. The white of her smile was back and, curiously, she gave the Camaro beneath her a gentle pat.
"It's okay," Mikaela said again and Alex wasn't sure she was talking to her anymore, the girl's eyes lingering on the gleaming metal beneath them.
0-0-0-0-0
Their time at the beach came to an end.
Once the boys were wrangled up from the arcade—both griping and moaning about losing money to the ancient machines gathering dust and being replaced by home counterparts—they all jumped back into the gleaming Camaro and sped off.
"Man, I used to destroy Street Fighter." Miles huffed. "What happened?"
"I believe it means you're getting old." Mikaela teased from her prime spot in the front. Miles glowered at her, the seat hiding his expression from her view but it was noticed by Alex who sat beside him once again. Sam laughed along with Mikaela, the sounds carefree and light, and Alex caught the sparkle in his eyes as he stole glances at his girlfriend.
"Well I had a lot of fun. Thank you for inviting me," Alex said.
Miles scoffed, "Yeah well you're not out ten bucks." His voice was dry but then he grudgingly admitted the beach had been a good time; losses included.
"I'm glad I was able to get you away from home for a bit and that your first outing won't be your last." Sam joked, the streets speeding by as he headed back to the house.
"Yeah…" Alex agreed, her attention drifting.
Home.
The word tasted bittersweet and she turned her face toward the window, pretending to be enthralled by the passing scenery but in actuality hiding the wetness of her eyes. The seat belt tightened briefly across her torso with the movement.
Sam and the others droned on in the background and soon Sam was pulling into the driveway.
A wave of exhaustion hit as Alex unclipped her belt. As much as she enjoyed herself, it was good to be back where she could be alone. Sam briefly left his seat so she could get out and rolled down the window once he was back in the car.
"Are you sure you don't mind being dropped off first?" he asked. He wanted to spend more time with Mikaela and since Miles' house was closer to hers, it made sense to repeat the order of their pickup.
"I'm sure." She spoke over him at Mikaela. "It was nice meeting you." Miles received a wave and he returned it in earnest.
"When my parents get back, tell them I'll be home in a bit. They can call if they need me to pick anything up," Sam added.
"Will do." Alex dug around in her purse, fingers brushing against the jagged end of her house key. Unfortunately, the key and its keyring companion—a pudgy tweed owl plushie she'd gotten from her mother—were nestled on the bottom of her space-limited purse. The forceful tug she gave ended up spilling out the contents, sending them clattering to the ground. "Shit…" She hissed, trying to follow the direction everything bounced and rolled. She gave Sam an apologetic look. "Sorry! I'm sorry… I'll just"—she grabbed her wallet and hairbrush from where they'd fallen just behind the front wheel, dusting away the grit from their surfaces—"be two seconds. Just don't drive off and hit me with your car."
Sam leaned out his window, craning his neck to view the devastation. "Wouldn't think of it. And is… is that… baby wipes?"
Alex snatched the package up along with several tampons that littered the ground, ears burning. "Yeah, so?"
"You can remove makeup with them, Sam," Mikalea spoke up, changing the teasing grin on Sam's face to something along the lines of disbelief.
"Really? Huh… you learn something new everyday."
Alex scoured the area for any remaining items, moving around the front of the car as she did so. "Remember, don't run me over!" she hollered as she knelt, bracing her right hand against the yellow paneling just below the vents.
There!
A small tube of lipstick lay under the car.
"Thought you could get away that easy, huh?" Alex grunted as she repositioned herself and reached out, fingertips just brushing the plastic container. An additional curse and stretch had the lipstick in her grasp and she climbed to her feet, the impressions in her palms and knees from the tiny stones littering the driveway slowly fading. She clapped the dust from her clothing.
I guess clumsy isn't the absolute worst thing Sam's friends could label me as… she thought wryly, giving everyone a meek wave before turning on her heel to seek refuge in the house, an embarrassing flush prinkling across her skin.
0-0-0-0-0
The engine's rumbling cut short as the Camaro stopped behind Mikaela's house. Sam looked apprehensively at the darkened building sitting quietly in the dimming sunlight.
"She's not back yet, huh?" he asked, noting how Mikaela's attention was focused in the same direction, brows pinched together and a sour downward turn to her full lips.
"That's what happens when you go on a bender," she muttered. The words hung in the air between them, bitter and spoken before. "The better it is, the more you don't want it to end. She'll crawl back eventually, once the money runs out or her friends decide they've had enough of her freeloading." Her grip tightened around the handles of the quilted Chanel bag nestled on her lap—one of the only gifts left from her dad she didn't have the heart to get rid of. Sam reached across to pull her hand into his grasp. His thumb rubbed small circles against the warm skin.
"You can always stay at my house." An offer he'd made many times before. So much so that he continuously questioned where Stacey's drinking money came from. It wasn't as if the woman held a job, unless you counted sitting at home milking disability for a back injury that was as sincere as the one claiming it.
Mikaela shook her head, turning to him. The drain was there on her face but her eyes glittered and hand tightened against his. "Thank you, but I'll be fine. It's actually nice not having to share my supper and the peace and quiet is better compared to the crappy country stations she listens to through the night. Besides, it sounds like Alex is still settling in at your place. It wouldn't be proper to have your girlfriend hanging around all the time."
Sam scoffed. "The house is plenty big. I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem. But I won't push it. I know you'll be fine… that you can take care of yourself." His thumb skimmed across her wrist, the faint pulse there seeming to flutter from the gentle caress. "Just remember that if there's a time when you aren't fine, you'll always have a place to go where you won't be alone."
Her eyes closed briefly before she nodded. "Thank you," she whispered.
They sat in comfortable silence for several moments, the house nearby no longer casting such an ominous shadow.
"Do you think Alex liked me?"
Sam's fingers stilled where they'd been tracing patterns against her forearm, the soft hair there lifting slightly from the goosebumps arising in response to his touch. "Alex? Of course she liked you."
"Are you sure?" Mikaela rested her head against the seat as she regarded him with skepticism. "She didn't say much... "
"Alex is pretty quiet to begin with. I'm actually surprised you got her to say anything at all. Why?" he questioned, not missing the small pout on her lips.
"Maybe I came on too strong…" she mumbled, avoiding both his gaze and the question.
"Relax." Sam laughed, leaning closer to her so she focused on him again. "You did fine. Stop worrying about what my cousin thinks."
"You know your family's approval means a lot to me, Sam."
His hand came up to cup her chin. "I do and they approve. My parents already adore you and I am particularly smitten by you—"
"Smitten?" she giggled. "What an interesting way to say you like me too."
"Really like you," he corrected. He was closer to her now, hand still tracing along her jawline. The subtle sweetness of perfume and shampoo teased him with notes of orange and jasmine. "And why wouldn't I be smitten by someone so kind"—his lips brushed over hers earning him a pleasurable sigh—"...and brave. Smart… passionate…" The words became muffled as she melted into his embrace, her mouth fully against his now, the kiss deepening. She enjoyed hearing compliments and he gave them freely. Sincerely. But never did he call her gorgeous… hot… beautiful. Never compliments about her appearance. At least not during moments like these. He didn't deny her attractiveness—she was a raven-haired goddess in his eyes—however, others had called her those things before. Many, many times over. It was all they knew her as. Something beautiful to look at. To lust after…
No… He was never hollow with his compliments. She was complex and amazing and deserved to know he saw more than skin deep.
His hand dropped to her thigh just below the line of her shorts, fingers cautiously and tenderly testing the unspoken boundaries between them. And when she moaned against his lips—the sound fanning his desire into flames that licked his insides—he slid his palm fully across the silky heat, squeezing ever so slightly. He felt her own hand clutching at the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. Another moan…
They both stiffened, lips parting and eyes going wide as they looked at each other in sudden realization. Sam felt heat rising up his face and he saw the spreading redness of a flush across MIkaela's neck and cheeks. Both pulled apart abruptly, leaning back into their seats and speaking in unison.
"Sorry, man."
"Sorry, Bee…"
There was a moment of silence before a low hum echoed around the interior. "That's alright," Bumblebee replied softly, awkwardness distinguishable in his voice. "I was busy watching an episode of Futurama…"
Sam rubbed at the back of his neck, not sure where to direct the conversation. Luckily Mikaela spoke for him.
"You can tell us when we're being inappropriate or if we're making you uncomfortable," she said, her expression gentle and understanding.
A chuckle came from the radio but it didn't hold any mirth. "Compared to some of the other things I've experienced, this is on the lower end of that scale. I'm used to it anyway. Comes with the territory when your species pretends to be inanimate objects."
The sting behind the statement made Sam flinch and he guessed Mikaela felt the same way, given the sharp inhale she took.
"That didn't… It wasn't"—Bee stuttered before he gave a defeated sigh—"...I didn't mean it that way."
Mikaela reached out, her fingers tracing along the textures of the dashboard in a gesture of comfort. "I know but it's true. We acted as if you were just a car. As if we had forgotten you were here…" The guilt was all over her face and in her voice. "And that's not right. It means we're not doing a very good job of being your friends."
"I'll do better," Sam promised gruffly and Mikaela echoed with a solemn 'me too'. "Just, you know, smack me upside the head or something if I need a reminder."
"That… wouldn't be advisable."
Sam huffed a laugh. "Yeah, I suppose not. Fragile human and all. Look… are we okay?"
"Of course," Bee said and Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Bee continued. "And I honestly didn't mean to imply anything. I just… have a lot on my mind right now. That's all."
"The Diego Garcia move, huh?" Sam grimaced. The date was approaching fast and all three of them were still trying to process the turn of events.
"Yeah. The move…" Bee repeated softly.
"We'll still keep in touch though, right?" Mikaela asked with a healthy optimism that Sam had felt too before Mathews shot it down. "You can visit whenever you're stateside and there's tons of ways we can talk otherwise. Email, phone—"
"That's if they allow it," Sam retorted, the displeasure in his voice obviously referring to 'they' as the human involvement in the matter.
Bumblebee whirred, a long drawn out sound. "We might face some Autobot disapproval as well."
Sam's face fell. "Wait, Optimus would be against it? But—but why?" he asked at the confirmatory tone emitted from the speakers.
"Communication brings risks with it and Optimus was never one to ignore the risks. It's a practice that's kept him and many Autobots alive over the years. Myself included," Bee explained.
Dismayed, knowing the risks Bee was referring to regarded human—specifically his and Mikaela's—mortality, Sam slumped in his seat. Beside him Mikaela sat in silence. He could see her out of the corner of his eye and knew she was deep in thought by the set of her jaw and lowered brows.
"You know what?" she said, giving both him and Bee a look of resolve. "Some things are worth the risks and I think this"—her finger made a small inclusive circle in the air before her—"this is worth it."
"So, you're saying...?" Sam trailed off.
"Fuck 'em."
"Fuck 'em? You know them includes Optimus, right? Bee just mentioned that."
She cocked her head, black hair spilling over one shoulder. "I have the utmost respect for Optimus. It doesn't mean I have to agree with everything he says." Blue eyes squinted at him in a challenge. "And I know you feel the same way. At least about this."
He didn't even need a moment to think about it. She was right, of course. Sam drew himself up a little straighter. "I knew we were getting into some heavy shit the moment we decided to go along with you after that fight with Barricade." He directed his response to Bee. "And if I wasn't afraid then, I'm not going to let a little hypothetical threat worry me now." A wry grin tugged at his lips. "What do you think, buddy?"
An amused trill echoed about the interior. "I have been known to bend the rules from time to time." This brought forth several chuckles from the two humans. "In all honesty, I'd be hard pressed to go against a direct order, but"—he quickly cut off Sam's reply—"maybe I can convince Optimus it wouldn't be in our best interest to cut ties with any allies, especially ones so determined. And we all could use the extra support, anyway, considering… well… everything that's happened."
Far from home. Stuck on an alien planet with government officials breathing down your neck. Losing those close to you. Yeah… Sam could definitely get behind that. "Even though we may not have the skills for the battlefield, we're more than equipped to handle the R&R side of things," he said, chest puffing out with pride.
"Team Downtime does has a nice ring to it," Mikaela agreed. "Road trips. Beach days. Long meaningful conversations. All nighter movie extravaganzas. And I have been known to throw pretty spectacular parties. Guaranteed to take your mind off things for at least a weekend."
"That all sounds wonderful," Bee said with longing.
"And speaking of conversations… I'm curious... " Mikaela began, giving a quizzical look at Bee. "You mentioned being—um—privy to more uncomfortable situations?"
"I did."
Amusement flashed in her eyes. "Feel like sharing the worst example that comes to mind?"
"Ah… "
Sam groaned. "I thought we were supposed to be avoiding the uncomfortable parts and asking about them definitely makes me feel like we're doing the opposite."
"Oh common," MIkaela argued, a wide grin splitting her face. "I love Bee's stories and I have to say my interest is definitely piqued."
"Oh it's interesting to say the least..." Bee replied.
Knowing he wasn't going to win, Sam receded his protest. He seemed to be doing that a lot these days. Apparently it came with the girlfriend territory. "Alright, alright. If he doesn't mind telling it then I'm all ears. Lay it on us, Bee."
"Well..." Bee's vents cycled softly, the equivalent of a hesitant breath. "I was chasing this Con a number of years ago. He had some stolen data that several of my superiors expressed an interest in getting back. Seeing how I was between missions at the time and rather have me out in the field than underfoot, they felt the task was best assigned my way."
"Ooo—an embarrassing event while on the job. I like it." Mikaela leaned forward, nibbling on her bottom lip in anticipation.
"Yeah, lucky me. So lucky that I still hold a grudge against them for being volunteered." There came a hum from the engine as Bee laughed. "Anyway, here I am tailing this Con—whose designation is Knock Out by the way—to a planet where he tries to lose me among these giant junkyard-like nest things. Essentially just massive collections of salvage taken from unfortunate ships that have crashed over the eons. Much to Knock Out's dismay, it doesn't work and soon we're trading blows and firing off a couple of potshots here and there; I'm not wanting to damage him too much, least of all I do the same to the data, and neither of us want to waste ammo given our current location."
"Something bigger and badder than the two of you there?" Mikaela asked, the excited look never leaving her face.
Bee rumbled in agreement. "How very perceptive of you."
Sam could hear the amusement in his friend's voice now, the story seeming to flow smoother as it went; the benefit of having an eager audience. He found his own enthusiasm increasing by the moment and he too shifted forward in his seat as if it would help him hear better, even though Bee's voice carried well throughout the small space they were in.
"I managed to get Knock Out in a hold," Bee continued, "and just as I'm thinking I've got the upper hand, we both hear something coming our way. So I drop him like a hot piece of metal and immediately shift into alt-mode. Knock Out, who thankfully is a smart guy himself, does the same."
"What was it?" Sam all but whispered as Bee paused, playing up the scene.
"Yarhg."
The word was like a pirate chugging back a two-litre the way it sounded on Sam's tongue. "Yarhg?"
"Native species of the planet. Muscular reptilian-humanoid race built like a tank. Four pairs of black eyes. Triangular mouth full of rows of sharp teeth. Razor-edged claws, horns, armor plating—everything fitting an apex predator. They're particular to shiny things, hence the collected salvage. Very dangerous. Very territorial. Thankfully, not that bright and easily fooled as long as you look like you belong with your surroundings."
"How big are we talking?" Mikaela asked.
"Females around my size, males just under half that?" Bee estimated.
"Doesn't sound too bad," Sam said only to be quickly corrected.
"To put it in perspective, Ironhide and I fought a male together once, and while we were successful we both ended up in the med bay for a good week after."
Sam swallowed his prior statement. "Nevermind then…"
"There's three of them this time. Female and two males. Knock Out and I are definitely playing the camouflage role. So we're facing each other with a bit of space between us and I'm sitting there just silently cursing the slag out of him—all the while picturing my violent demise should things go wrong—and these Yarhg come right up next to us."
Bee paused again and Mikaela gave a little squeak. "What happened?"
"Well… I don't know if it was just the right time for the Yarhg…" Bee started, his voice holding a mix of bewilderment and humor. "Or if we just happened to be in a particularly enticing part of the nest. But whatever it was, the mood… sort of… struck?"
"No!" Mikaela gasped into her hands.
Brain short-circuiting at the implications, Sam blurted out in a high-pitched voice, "Wait, what?"
"They didn't!" Giggles began to slip past her lips.
"Oh they most certainly did," Bee said with barely concealed laughter. "The three of them. Vigorously."
Mikaela broke into a massive laughing fit of loud, melodic notes while Sam's face couldn't decide between slack-jawed horror or a grin that split his mouth wide and burned his cheeks. Terrifying aliens in the spur of the moment ménage à trois? Oh holy hell, the visuals forming in his head took him to a very disturbing place, like being on the dark side of the internet. Full of writhing bodies, grunting and huffs, and the gnashing of teeth.
"And you just waited and watched them?" He sputtered before Mikaela's infectious sounds had him devolving into rapid chuckles that resonated in his throat.
"No. I was actually trying my damnedest to maintain my cover while watching Knock Out." Bee's voice was strained, wavering with the words. "The Yargh, they—uh— they kept bumping into him…"
"Nooo!" Mikaela wailed between gulps of air. "Dare we ask how it ended?"
A coarse shudder ran through Bee. "The female devoured the males while they were still joined with her."
She gave a strangled cry while Sam gagged and choked back rising bile.
"And—and then she left, right?" MIkaela squeaked.
"Yeah."
"What did you do?" Sam asked, finding his voice. "Knock Out still had the data, right? Did you start fighting again?"
"Not exactly. Once it was clear, the both of us shifted back and we just kind of looked at each other for a moment… then we went our separate ways without saying a word."
Sam squeezed his eyes shut as Mikaela cried with laughter beside him and his face was so tight and sore it felt like it would break from smiling so much.
Bee tried, failed, and then tried again to get the next words out through a radio that crackled and hissed with static. "I-I've never seen anyone look so defeated."
"No wonder!" Sam exclaimed. "I can't even imagine going through something like that."
"Needless to say Command didn't get their data."
"Bee, oh my god," Mikaela said between peals, "I bet that experience lingered with you."
"Lingered yes. It actually led to a rather paranoid habit of making sure new species I meet don't partake in such a—er—lethal mating practice…"
With tears streaming down her face, Mikaela gestured to herself, "Well be reassured that we humans don't eat each other!"
"I know."
Mikaela doubled over in hysterics again which ended in a very loud and sonorous snort. Her hands clapped over her face and Sam grinned at her with a newfound appreciation.
Letting his head loll back against the leather, he felt light, as if he were floating in the quiet that finally settled over them all; broken only by the occasional residual chuckle.
The best medicine… he thought with a tired lopsided smile. He looked over at Mikaela who was using the visor's mirror to wipe mascara trails from the perfect curves of her face.
"That was your best story yet, Bee." She said as one finger traced under her eyes and, satisfied, she flipped the panel up. "I seriously can't wait until the next one."
"I have several I think you'll like then. Maybe the time when Wheeljack brought an alien flower on board and its pollen drugged half the crew."
"Oh that definitely sounds up my alley." She flashed a smile, giving the dash a final pat, before leaning over to press a kiss to Sam's lips. "I should get going though, it's getting late. Good night you two. Stay out of trouble."
"No promises," Bee rumbled.
"Yeah, what he said," Sam nodded his head toward the console before pulling Mikaela back to him as she opened her door. She giggled as their lips met again in a sweet kiss that lingered even after she got out. He stared at her retreating form until the house swallowed her up safely behind closed doors.
"So, home?" Bee asked as he pulled out of the confined alleyway onto a busy street, merging seamlessly with traffic.
"Actually, maybe hit up the 7-Eleven first if that's okay. I have a craving for a cherry-Coke Slurpee. All that laughing left me pretty dry."
The wheel shifted, turning them down a street just shy of the usual route they took. "One caffeine infused sugar beverage that would send Ratchet into spark-failure if he knew you were drinking it coming right up," Bee said.
The drive was fast and smooth and soon the blazing numerical logo came into view, standing out against the falling night sky like a giant deity among its lesser neon peers. Bumblebee pulled into a spot at the front of the store where white light spilled through massive floor to ceiling windows, giving observers a clear view of the inside. The Slurpee machine could just be seen along the far wall behind a mountain of potato chips.
Bee dampened the sounds of his engine, effectively making it seem as if he was 'shut off'. Sam, glancing at the perpetually full fuel gauge on his console, cocked his head. "Did you want anything?"
There was little of interest in the store, at least from what Bee could tell from his outside position. Nearby, fuel dispensers clicked and dinged as patrons pumped up their tanks. While something high in octane may have been a nice adjunct to the energon flowing through his lines, he decided against it. The lubricants humans added to gasoline was bitter and didn't seem worth the miniscule amount of energy it would provide.
"I'm okay, thank you," he said. Sam nodded and headed into the building. Bee watched his charge go, taking careful note of the other humans in the vicinity. His plates prickled as a police cruiser entered the lot to pull up next to him but its coloring was different, the print on the side read 'to protect and serve' and a pair of officers, laughing and talking with animated movements, got out. Nevertheless Bee did a quick scan and it came back negative for energon. Not that Barricade would be foolish enough to leave an open signature…
One of the officers slowed as he walked by Bee's front, admiring the lines of his alt-form with envious eyes before his partner tugged on his sleeve encouraging him to keep up. Bee followed their movements, inspecting the twin tan and olive uniforms they wore. The proudly displayed emblems of authority made more than one station customer pause before averting their eyes. Something to hide perhaps? Or maybe just weary of the glinting badges and black firearms strapped snugly at their hips.
As the officers headed inside, the same one who had given Bee an appreciative look caught sight of a woman walking toward them from where she had left her car by the pumps. He held the door open and she flashed him a gracious smile as she passed. Purposeful strides carried her deeper into the store and within moments her blonde curls and kind face disappeared beyond the aisles. Bumblebee sank on his tires as an overwhelming sadness washed over him. How could it not when there were coincidental reminders everywhere of the incident that had caused so much pain over the last two weeks.
His thoughts returned to the move. He didn't want to go to Diego Garcia. He didn't want to leave everyone, especially now. Not when he could help… when he knew—
A ping came through on the inter-frequency, the signature ages old, familiar and comforting.
Optimus.
Bee signaled he was listening and the Autobot leader's baritone voice filled his head.
"Bumblebee. I apologize for not responding sooner."
Only a little over an hour had passed but most times personal comms were answered immediately. No need to cause unnecessary worry. "That's alright. I know you're busy." Bee trailed off at the end. Of course Optimus was busy. He was always busy. Being a Prime. Fighting a war. And now with the human-Autobot treaty underway, the base setup and hunting Decepticons-all the while shouldering the role of leadership-it was understandable his schedule kept him even more occupied than usual.
There was a pause spanning only a fraction of a second but still long enough to their kind to be noticable. When Optimus next spoke, some of the reservation always held within his voice had waned. "I will always have time for you."
Bee didn't respond.
"Are you unwell?" Optimus asked. "Your message sounded… troubled."
"I'm fine." He kept his tone as neutral as possible but Optimus saw through it immediately, a concerned hum coming through the comm. Bee sighed. "There's nothing wrong with my physical functioning," he rephrased, "and as for the other, Ratchet doesn't need to become involved if that's what you were wondering." After Mission City, the medic had been on all of their cases in regard to extensive psychological evaluations. As Bee had lacked the means to escape Ratchet's attention following the battle—a small necessity called legs—he was the first in the line of fire for the barrage of tests that scrutinized him from head to foot, inside and out. "I have a few things to work out on my end but it's nothing I can't handle on my own. I just needed to provide you with an update."
Optimus waited patiently.
Bumblebee recalled moments from earlier that day. When items scattered across the ground making Alex seek them out. Kneeling before him, one hand rising to place itself against his plates, tingling warmth arising from the touch. The movement made the linen of her sleeve shift and fall away, exposing creamy skin marred with delicate white lines.
He had seen those marks before. Those scars.
The ache returned in his chest. "It's her…" he whispered. "It's Alexandria."
0-0-0-0-0
The next four days passed by in a blur. With Sam returning to school after his time off for bereavement and Alex tentatively following at his side, Bumblebee spent the majority of the morning and early afternoon alone. Normally he would have accompanied them to school and met up with Sam and Mikaela during their periods off, however, Ron had wanted to ensure a smooth transition for Alex and thus became chauffeur for the next week. Even though he was disappointed, Bee couldn't find fault with the family support and so he resumed vigilance of a quiet household. Not in the mood for movies, music, or any of the activities he used to engage in during his free moments, he took to sitting in the open garage door watching the small creatures, who called the yard their home, go about their daily lives. Sometimes Mojo would trot by for a visit after a routine scamper around the yard to relieve himself, often with his rubber ball clamped tightly between his teeth for a game of catch. When the urge to move finally forced Bee to his feet, he would take to driving around the local neighborhoods, always being mindful of the time and avoiding the district the school was in.
Thankfully, his evenings were full as Sam and Mikaela did their best to spend time with him, coming up with activities they all could enjoy. Alex stayed away, hidden inside the house. Sam reported she was busy with school work or her art and Bee figured it was for the best. Only catching glimpses of her was hard enough.
On the fourth night though, Sam must have said something enticing enough to spark her interest for suddenly she was joining them for a double feature—something called Grindhouse—at the local drive-in. Bee was fairly certain it wasn't the movies that had Sam growing pale and clenching his legs together within ten minutes of the first film and Alex huddled in the middle of the backseat throughout, hiding her eyes with the big bucket of popcorn clutched tightly to her chest.
Yeah… Definitely not the movies.
Afterward, as he raced through the streets—trying to shake the image of melting humans while being impressed by the gun-for-a-leg female lead—the reason for Alex's presence came to light.
"I can't wait," she spoke up from the back, a blissful smile touching her face. "I haven't had Foster's ice cream in forever."
Still likes her sweets… he thought, hiding a melancholic hum with a rev of his engine.
"I can't believe you can stomach anything right now." Sam all but gagged. "That was… graphic. And you, you aren't fazed by any of that gory stuff?" He spared a glance at Mikaela who was nestled comfortably in the passenger's seat.
"Not really," she replied. "It's all fake. A bunch of plastic and rubber and food dye." She turned in her seat toward Alex, who sat behind her. "Did you know Alfred Hitchcock used chocolate syrup for blood in Psycho? The color didn't matter because the film was black and white. They just wanted something that looked good consistency wise."
Alex shook her head. "No, but that's pretty cool. Do you like this sort of thing? The making of movies and stuff?"
"Not really. I just enjoy films with that gritty look, similar to what we just saw. Reminds me of when I was a kid. My parents and I would watch movies on this ancient, beat up TV we used to have. I also took a media course last year that was honestly a joke. One of those rocks for jocks classes. Figured it was an easy A." She flashed a smile. "Guess some of the facts stuck."
"My dad wouldn't let me take that," Sam grumbled.
Finding the opportunity too easy to pass up, Bee quickly hissed out the current radio song with static before flipping over to a different channel. Monotone droning vocals filled the interior.
"We don't need no education…"
Alex burst out laughing and Bee's spark warmed from the sound.
Sam, looking a little on the surprised side, excused the action. "There's a lot of radio interference around this area."
The lyrics softened, the volume waning just a fraction.
Alex grinned. "Yeah but you have to admit that was great—"
A thunderous rumble cut her off.
The only warning they had.
Bee's tires squealed against the asphalt on his right side exploded with pain, his bulk flung out of his lane by a massive force. Metal screamed against metal, overpowering the startled cries of his friends. Glass crunched and shattered and sharp diamonds showered the road around them.
It felt like he was being torn in half.
The ground skidded underneath him as he struggled to find a grip, to swerve away from the searing pressure of the great blue truck's grill against him. Choking smoke billowed from its engine. Bitter. Just like gasoline.
His tires caught and he spun away in a dizzying circle. Once. Twice. Finally jerking to a halt as they hit the curb.
Momentum lost, the truck sat still—its front crumpled like an accordion—in the center of the intersection.
The mournful wailing of its horn sputtered and faded as it died.
And then only silence.