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DISBOUND
chapter twenty-one
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'better view'
Theme Song: Ai Uta Ga Kikoeru (I Can Hear A Love Song) – Tenchi Muyo
~*~
The tropical morning air hung heavy, as if it were an additional woollen blanket draped over the crisp white sheet of the bed. Jacqui felt buried by the humidity. She shifted silently on the bed, feeling her clammy skin pull from the clothing.
Her blonde roommate had risen with the sun, cheerful, smiling to herself, but, as Jacqui was growing accustomed to, greeted her icily when she realised she was awake. Cheeks straightened in sobriety. Blue eyes flashing over grey in hostile disapproval.
And rare, but not unheard of - Erin had risen from her bed not long after Rachel had made her way down to the beach. Yearning for the familiar, Jacqui had reached for her childhood friend eagerly, with bright eyes and smile. The puckering of one dimple on one cheek was reminiscent of meek smiles to appease teachers and Jacqui knew to withdraw.
Erin disappeared without words into the en-suite bathroom and Jacqui merely drew her knees up and clutched herself so tightly that it hurt. Erin reappeared just as wordlessly and sat at the vanity unit, silver tweezers shining between her fingers, casting curious pale shapes on the wall adjacent. Methodically she attacked her brow. Jacqui watched her shoulders tense and relax, tense and relax. She liked to imagine that her best friend was watching her in the mirror, but Erin's eyes were set, focused on her own reflection.
The dark haired girl in the bed behind her may as well have been invisible. So she dipped her head and clutched her knees tighter, feeling the blood slow within her.
~*~
Rachel clutched her knees to her as she laughed, making sure to position her feet appropriately to the length of her skirt, the bag of bait nestled safely in the space between the concave of her arched stomach and her vertical thighs.
Todd lay a little way away from her, on his front in the sand, a portion of bait in his one gloveless hand. The Mankey peeked from behind the palm tree, its gaze unabashedly focused on the food. It edged out of the shadow of the tree, spindly pink fingers reaching for Todd's.
"You see Rachel?" The picturesque scene was somewhat disrupted by Todd's voice, in hushed tones. "I need you to do things like this for me so I can be taking the pictures, okay?" Rachel smiled, somewhat thinly although she knew he was looking at the Mankey not her. He then did turn to face her, as the Mankey finished and retreated, sand caked to the bottom of his chin and falling off the front of his teeshirt as he moved.
Rachel wondered for a moment if Duplica had ever helped him, if it had ever been her brandy eyes in comparison to her blue, that met his dark eyes in triumph after the acquisition of a perfect shot. For some reason, she longed to ask. Did she want to see the hurt in those dark eyes?
"No problem," was all that she said.
~*~
Trish floated into the dining room, almost ethereal in her elation. In stark comparison, Sarah followed, yawning and baggy-eyed, watching her older friend habitually. Nobody had had that much sleep really. It had become customary now that everyone was awoken whenever anyone had a dream.
Trish sank gracefully into a chair and reached dreamily for the orange juice, which she proceeded to pour into the vase in the middle of the table before reaching towards the toast rack. Drake continued to preoccupy her vision. All brooding and pectoral and navy trousers. She sighed again as she buttered her napkin.
Nobody paid that much attention. Breakfast was always a feral affair when in a large group. There was only so much food – and even if there was enough to go around, the boys liked to jump upon any opportunity that would see them eating more than their own ration. It was a hunger sentence to be late for breakfast.
As Mia and Gary growled about the ownership of one particular rasher of bacon in the background, Jacqui sipped her tea, docilely. She guessed that, with Michelle absent, there would be sufficient food should she want to eat, and that she did, but she refrained. The ice was too thin. She kept her eyes down as she lowered her half-empty cup to the white tablecloth again and returned the hand that had held it to her lap. Small ripples grew on the creamy liquid as Karlie banged the ketchup bottle furiously further down the table. The words of the table washed over her like little ripples, little waves.
"-pass the juice-"
"-book signing-"
"-Pinkan Island, yeah it-"
"-see her today?-"
"-any more milk?-"
Jacqui frowned, distorting her features. You shouldn't feel so detached. You've done nothing wrong. It's probably all this silence that's making them wary. She glanced upwards defiantly, the full-view of her large and long-lashed chocolate eyes startling Brock, who had been watching her from opposite the table.
"Well, I'm heading off soon," Trish was saying.
"The signing's not for hours," Karlie pointed out, her mouth full of partially chewed pork. Trish smiled conspiratorially.
"I have to make a quick stop – buy something. I've still got some money left in my clothes budget," she said quickly as Gary glared at her. "So, I'll head out now. I'll meet whoever wants to come at the bookstore at…twelve?"
"Signing doesn't start till two!" Karlie pointed out again. Trish pouted.
"But there'll be a quuuuuuuueue!" Karlie rolled her eyes.
"Fine. Not like it affects me. I'm not going."
"I'll go," spoke up Misty. "You guys coming?" Brock and Ash shrugged the affirmative.
"Can-" The word stuck in Jacqui's throat. All eyes on her. She swallowed, as if trying to flush whatever was stopping her from speaking. "Can I come?"
"Of course," Trish answered, too quickly to be plausible. Eating resumed. Jacqui felt like smiling with relief. As her eyes swung around from Trish back to her plate, she noticed Erin was looking at her blankly.
~*~
Trish felt like giggling. Who knew they would have this sort of shop in this world? And she was glad she'd given herself so much time – what a selection! Feeling like an underaged schoolgirl she sunk into the shadows of the shop.
She emerged over an hour later, clasping her apparently nondescript indigo and gold bag. She felt like embracing the bag to her breast and jumping up and down in the middle of the pavement in sheer anticipation. She refrained and settled with a broad grin and definite skip in her step as she made her way down the sunny sidewalk, the indigo and gold bag swinging after her.
They were waiting at the corner of the High Street, where Trovitopolis Books was to be found. Misty, her hair blazing in the intense sunlight; Ash, teeshirtless under his jacket; Brock, paying a nearby vendor for some cones of ice-cream; Jesse, someone she hadn't really been expecting, cerise hair matching the mini skirt she was wearing, her conspicuous uniform long abandoned, Jacqui; demure and pale – the anomaly.
It was Jacqui who saw her first, and greeted her with a smile – a smile so genuine Trish was taken a bit aback. She really had no idea what to make of the girl. She only knew not to ponder it now. There were more interesting things afoot! Her grip on the bag tightened, sending new wrinkles in the plastic snaking down from the handles.
~*~
She felt her lungs tighten in protest as she attempted to breathe in heavily. The air around her was heavy with scent, but age and years of cigarette dependency denied her. Instead the scents she wanted to fully experience washed around her on the breeze, teasing locks of her pure white hair. She had always worn it down, despite severe buns being the stereotypical style of her certain profession. Long flowing hair was a symbol of sexuality. Of virginity, she guessed. Female power. In her day as the Madame Boss she had ordered long loose hair as part of the uniform for her female agents. Female power. Something frightening, easily underestimated.
It was one of her better days. It seemed like ages since she had had the feeling of circulating air on her skin. Her entire body felt flattened by the continuous weight of her bedding. To be sitting here on a window seat, confronted with the sun, the sea, the sands when she was growing steadily accustomed to the darkness was like a lifeline. A pill for depression. Effective, yet sadly temporary.
~*~
Jesse only had to tilt her head slightly for it to be cushioned by the hair that was draped over her shoulder. The end hung down below her waist and she absently played with the tip, perfectly tapered like a paintbrush. It was easier to watch Trish from her new vantage-point. She and James had not wanted to appear worried, they had decided not both to follow her around all day.
Her cornflower blue eyes quickly flashed down to the bag Trish was holding tight to her hip and smiled sardonically. She didn't know why Trish had decided to buy something from that particular shop, but it was comforting to know that if the opportunity for a little adult fun came along during this journey, she knew where she could borrow what was important.
Trish had returned to her earlier state of ethereal elation. She had expressed actual jubilation at finding herself in the first section of the queue, which was directly adjacent to the stage currently sporting only a desk surrounded by stacks of Dragon-Man. The queue, an expected mix of swooning females and male Trainers stretched and doubled in on itself several times, each horizontal section defined by roping.
Two o' clock was approaching. Men all in black appeared on the stage and began to set up a microphone. Trish felt like fainting.
~*~
Mia was bored. No, not just bored, she was booooooooooorrrrrreeeeeeeeed. Everybody was sunbathing – shiny bodies on the sands of the beach, completely unmoving until an alarm went off signifying a universal turn-over. Everyone excluding Erin (napping) and Rachel and Todd (god knows what) and of course, those at the signing. Mia sunk into the soft cushioning of the couch with a sigh. I should have gone with Trish and the others, she thought moodily, deciding that even reaching for the remote control would be too much effort.
Pale blue hair rushed past her, leaving a literal trail of dust. Mia yawned.
"Hey Cel." Celestine paused at the door, rainbow coloured duster in hand.
"Hey Mia," she replied, "why aren't you outside with the others?" Mia made a noncommittal expression. "Sorry, but I can't stop to chat," she said hurriedly, pathetically attempting to dust the wooden doorframe. "My cleaning lady's coming today." Mia raised an eyebrow.
"You're cleaning for your cleaning lady?" Celestine blushed slightly.
"Dirt is embarrassing…" she answered meekly. Mia rolled her eyes and raised herself from the couch. "Chuck us the polish then," she said. It was something to do after all.
~*~
Excitement rippled through the waiting crowd. A countdown to two began at thirty seconds to go. Trish suddenly felt very conscious of her bag, the plastic sticking to her flesh in the heat. Twenty! the crowd roared as one. Trish stuck her chin out defiantly. She noticed the coloured lights in the small fly-loft above her move expectantly. Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!
As he had obviously been waiting somewhere, Drake appeared on stage at this exact instant, smiling, waving graciously at his adoring crowd. Trish drank in the sight of him. All brooding and pectorals and navy trousers. Mmmm. His minimised Pokéball containing his famed Dragonite hung from a chain around his neck. She was close enough to see it quiver slightly against his collarbone as he spoke into the microphone, hushing the crowd instantly.
"I'd like to thank you all for being here today, to celebrate with me, my labour of love," he smiled, genuinely grateful as he surveyed the crowd. Trish felt like her heart was swelling. He was a nice guy! She could tell he stopped his gaze to read every single banner, left no area not smiled warmly at, truly appreciated the support. "I will now read from my autobiography," Drake continued, and Trish could sense the falter in his voice as he encroached into unfamiliar territory. As one author to another she sympathised. You can never be too sure what the reaction will be to your work. "It's er, priced here at, er –" he deftly turned his copy of the book around to find it unpriced and blushed. "Er, a very reasonable price indeed."
He cleared his throat suddenly and forcedly, as if somebody had told him that he should do it before starting and he had almost forgotten to.
"She was to be the last full relationship I would have." Drake was sweating slightly, and ran one hand over his tapered brown hair as he continued reading. "I was now entering into a world of profile – of kiss-and-tell stories, of gold-diggers, of fangirls. It turned out my sudden singledom served me well, publicity-wise, as my agent could then send me to premieres and the like with a different celebrity woman every fortnight. I grew very lonely. I threw myself more into my training."
The crowd was silent, listening, awed in the presence of their idol, laid bare for all to see. Trish fingered her bag. She suddenly felt very stupid. How could she do this while the crowd around her stood in revered silence? She stood listening to him – how long did he read? Only ten, fifteen minutes or so. The crowd seemed to instinctively know that he had finished, and burst into uproarious applause. Trish seized her chance.
"DRAAAAKE!" she screeched along with the crowd, and flung her spangled present high into the air, where it caught the lights and landed a little more north than had been her intention. The crowd was shocked into silence. Heresy. Blasphemy. Sacrilege. Their idol, their beloved shining idol, standing there in front of the world, stunned. Not that you could really see his expression because there was a pink sequinned thong on his face.
Misty, Ash and Brock stared at Trish with literal fear of her evident. Bodyguards were beginning to scramble onto the stage as Drake stood there as if comatosed.
"Why the hell did you do that?" Misty hissed as she grabbed the taller woman's arm and began to drag her out of the queue. Jacqui spoke up as she hurried out of the line as well.
"That isn't a custom in this world then?" she asked, as they rounded the corner of the High Street, the boys and Jesse not far behind them. Misty felt as if the only thing saving them from a massive retaliation by the Drake-fans was the fact that they were still transfixed on their idol as he removed the shimmering undergarment from his blushing face. He watched the retreating group of people, the older one, a woman with black hair and furiously blushing cheeks staring back at him as a shorter red-head pulled her from his view.
He looked down at the item in his hand, and his grip on it tightened. Something should be done about this!
~*~
Trish sat at the dinner table, a mere shadow of what she had been at the breakfast table. Her chest felt tight with mortification. Is this what her dream had foretold? She smiled wryly. Death by humiliation. Celestine entered the room, uncertainly.
"Er… phonecall?" They looked at each other. The hospital. Michelle.
"I'll take it," offered Sarah, as she had finished eating, and she rose from the table and made her way out to reception. The rest sat in silence, not bothering to continue eating, straining their ears to hear the short conversation. Sarah reappeared, eyes to her, expectantly. Sarah had only two words and a smile.
"She's awake."
~*~
[A/N]
You, oh fine reader of mine. I love you. Please review. Jelly-tots for all.
And the person who wondered if Lillith was actually part of the plot… I brought the segment with her two chapters forwards just for you!
And YAY! My favourite chapter that I've had partially written out for AGES coming NEXT!
xxx