Chapter Five: NYC, Friday, April 8, 2005
They had to change trains three times, moving through the labyrinth that was the underground network of increasingly neglected, rundown looking subway platforms that Simon was sure he would never be able to navigate his way back through on his own.
Finally, forty-five minutes later, the three of them climbed out of the dank subterranean passageway, up crumbling concrete steps that opened onto a darkened sidewalk. Simon swallowed back his nerves. Caroline had no business in a neighborhood like this. He had no business there. He wasn't even sure Jake with his cocky attitude—an attitude Simon had no doubt the guy could back up with his fists—had any business there. Half the streetlights were burnt out and most of the buildings were boarded up and scrawled over with graffiti. Each icy gust of wind sent papers and trash skittering down cracked, dark pavement, yet did little to dispel the lingering stench of urine and decay. Caroline took Simon's hand, intertwining their fingers. Just like before, he had the strangest feeling that she was offering protection, not asking for his. It didn't make sense. It wasn't just that Simon was a guy and she was a girl. She was fifteen.
Fifteen….
What was he thinking? What was he doing?
"It's not quite as bad as it looks," Caroline promised. "And we'll be fine once we get there."
Simon nodded. Up ahead of them, it didn't look as if Jake wasn't the least bit worried about his little sister's wellbeing, even when a couple of guys who may or may not have been gang bangers sauntered past, giving her the eye.
Jake slowed so he could throw his arm around Simon's shoulder. "They'd be idiots if they'd tried. I meant what I said about Caroline being able to kick some ass. Although down here, she'd be the least of their worries." He smirked, just as a big black crow barked out a loud caw from it's perch atop one of the few lit streetlamps. The sound made Simon jump and Jake laugh.
Weren't crows day-time birds?
Simon didn't have much time to think about. Jake steered them into a narrow, darkened alleyway that smelled even worse that the street, and Simon almost lost what little nerve he'd managed to hang onto after exiting the subway. If Caroline weren't there, he'd suspect her brother of pulling some kind of prank—the not-very-funny kind where somebody, namely him, ended up beaten to a pulp in some alleyway. A light sputtered over a big, red metal door, just up ahead. Leaning against the door stood… a kid?
She was barely as tall as Caroline and so slight of build it looked as if the next gust of wind was going to knock her over. She was dressed like a…. Simon swallowed down another lump of discomfort. A black leather miniskirt, fishnet stockings, Doc Martin boots, a black corset, and short, black leather jacket left more pale skin exposed than any of it covered. Long dark hair hung down nearly to her waist. Deep lipstick and thick smokey liner accented her already ghost-like face. A silver pendant shone in the flickering light, though Simon couldn't make out the design at this distance.
When she looked up, she smiled that seemed at odds with her cool demeanor and terrifying . "Jacob Chandler-Wells," she called. "You here to cause me more trouble?"
Jake laughed. "When do I cause you trouble?" Jake asked the girl, his tone teetering between clearly feigned hurt and impossible-to-believe innocence.
The other snorted out a little laugh. "Only every other week." She flashed a warm smile at Caroline; for just a second, her expression warmed. "Hey, you."
"Hey, yourself." Caroline took a cautious seeming step forward, then the other opened out her arms and Caroline stepped into the embrace. They hugged for a long moment before Caroline stepped back again.
"Who's Mr. Sunshine over there?" the brunette inquired.
Simon blinked. Mr. Sunshine?
Caroline reached back for his hand. "My friend, Simon. He's from California."
"And I don't suppose Simon from California is actually over eighteen?"
"Yeah, I—" Simon started to reach for his wallet, but the dark girl waved her hand.
"Just behave yourself." She glanced at Jake. "That goes double for you. Blake's behind the bar. You can ask him to stash your cases—but it might cost you." She shot Caroline a wink.
Caroline snickered. "We'll see."
Jake pulled open the door, setting loose a wave of pulsating techno bass beats. Caroline followed on his heels, Simon on hers. The girl at the door gave him wry, darkly amused grin as he passed her, which did nothing to ease the knots tightening in his gut. This was feeling more and more like yet another great big mistake and even Caroline's hand, warm and firm in his, wasn't enough to completely dispel the fear that Matt was right. She was out of his league in every way possible. The sputtering red neon sign welcoming them to Dante's Inferno—the sign included devil-tail arrow directing them down a long industrial staircase—only amplified the feeling. As they descended, the music got louder and the already dim lighting got darker, so that by the time they reached the smoke-filled room below, the only lighting came from a couple of blacklights over the bar and entirely-too-creepy red lights that pulsed in time with the music, near what he assumed was the dance floor. How did anybody see in this place?
Or maybe the point was not to see.
Jake took Caroline's violin case; he had to lean in and yell to be heard over the music. "Since I'm heading up there anyway, how about I get us something to drink?"
Caroline nodded. She turned to Simon, who was grateful she hadn't let go of his hand. "Can Jake get you something? Our treat."
"Yeah. Yeah, sure. Whatever you guys are having," he said to Jake's questioning look. He only hoped Matt wasn't right and this wasn't going to be like that stupid party he'd gone to. That was the first and only time he'd ever gotten drunk—or at least that drunk. Since then, he'd stuck to the occasional beer at a party, even though he wasn't twenty-one yet and it wasn't legal. But it was only beer. And only once in a while.
He watched Jake wind his way through the silhouettes in the smoky darkness toward the bar, where a guy with a tall spiky mohawk was pouring drinks.
Just let me get out of this one piece, Simon sent a silent prayer up to God. I can't promise I'll never do anything stupid again, but I swear, I'll work on it.
He leaned closer to Caroline. "What did the girl at the door mean about it costing you to leave your stuff with that guy?" he asked. Up at the bar, he watched Jake and the bartender greeting each other with obvious familiarity, before jake passed over the instrument cases.
"Nothing that would get me—or him—in trouble with my parents," Caroline said. "Blake plays in a band he's always begging me to sit in with them. And his parents are friends of my father's."
Okay, that didn't sound so bad, although it would help if Simon knew anything about what Caroline and Jake's parents were like. Were they like Sasha's mother, who had advised Sasha to make herself 'available' if her boyfriend wanted to have sex? Or were they like Cecelia's parents, hardworking, good people? What if Caroline and Jake's father was in a biker gang or something?
"Do you dance?" Caroline's question started Simon out of his thoughts.
"Yeah, a little." Not that he had any idea how to dance to this. But she smiled so he followed her out to the dancefloor where he was greeted by an eclectic mix of people in leather and lace, silk and spikes, old fashioned topcoats with tails and leather jackets. Caroline fit in; more than 'fit in', she seemed completely at ease despite being fifteen, in a bar—a bar—called Dante's Inferno, surrounded by people who like extras from either a vampire movie or maybe a Rob Zombie video. Simon didn't quite feel like he was standing out like a sore thumb, even though he was pretty sure it was obvious he didn't belong there. He was entirely certain his parents would have his head, even though he was over eighteen and—in theory—could do whatever he wanted.
And exactly where has that kind of thinking landed me?
Yeah. Simon, the failure. Disciplinary probation. Kicked out of the dorms—even if it was for a good reason, for doing the right thing. Georgia…Sandra… screwing up on his midterms…. "I'm really not sure what I'm doing here," he confessed to Caroline as she began to sway in time to the somber, bass-heavy music.
"Just follow my lead." She pulled the barrette from her hair, and it tumbled free. Suddenly she looked like one of the fairies in Bridget O'Donnell's stories. They weren't like Tinkerbell, they were fierce, frightening, powerful. Ethereal.
Unreal.
Caroline shifted his hands to her swaying hips and lifted her arms over her head, her whole body alive with the music, her heart pulsing through his palms, her—
A hand on Simon's shoulder made him jump. It was Jake. "That's my little sister you're ogling."
Heat rose in his cheeks—but it didn't escape his notice that Jake was laughing.
At me.
He wasn't sure what to make of that, because if some guy was looking at Ruthie the way he'd been looking at Caroline, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be laughing.
Jake handed him a bottle of…orange seltzer? "I had no idea what flavor you liked, but I figured since you were from California…." He shrugged.
"Yeah, orange is good. Thanks."
Jake handed a bottle of blueberry seltzer to his sister with the explanation that they were out of cherry. His own drink was blueberry seltzer, too.
Okay. So maybe Simon had misjudged a few things tonight.
Jake gave Simon's shoulder another pat, then meandered his way through the mass of writing bodies into the darkness.
"He won't do anything stupid if I'm here," Caroline told Simon, almost before he could formulate the question.
"Should I be afraid to ask what kinds of stupid things he does when you're not around?"
She laughed, sipped her soda, and did a little twirl, the fingers of her other hand interlaced with his, so that she ended up with her back pressed lightly against his chest, his arm around her shoulders. Caroline looked up at him. Her eyes were dazzling, her face…. He wished he'd met her before his life got so screwed up.
Except if he'd met her when he was sixteen, she would only have been thirteen and what was he doing?
"Mostly Jake gets into fights," Caroline told him. She continued to sway to the music, drawing him into her movement like the Earth drew the Moon. "I really do believe the last one wasn't his fault, but only because Kate promised he was telling the truth. Jake doesn't lie exactly, but when it comes to things like who really started a fight, he tends to have his own version of reality."
"Kate…was that the girl at the door?"
"She's an old family friend."
He frowned. How could someone younger than Caroline be an "old family" anything? And how could she have a job at a place like this?
"Looks can be deceiving, Simon." Caroline twirled again, so she was facing him. "Not all things are as they seem."
"What about you? Are you what you seem?"
"I guess that depends on what you see when you look at me."
…
Simon had no idea what time it was when she collected her violin from the bartender so they could leave, just the two of them. Jake, she assured him, had left a while ago and was probably already home. How she knew he'd gone was a mystery; Simon hadn't her brother since Jake left them on the dance floor.
"Won't your parents be worried about you, being out so late?"
"Jake will tell them where I was—assuming they don't know already, which they probably do."
"And they're really okay with you being in a place like this?" The neighborhood around them hadn't improved in the last few hours. On a burn out streetlight, a big black crow—or maybe the same one who was there before—cawed at them and ruffled its feathers.
"They know Kate wouldn't let anything happen to me out here. Not that I can't take care of myself," she added. "And unlike my brother, I don't go looking for fights. You hungry?"
"I could eat, I guess, as long as it's not around here, and as long as you don't think you'll get into trouble for being out all night?"
"I'm already in trouble." She shrugged and led the way back down the concrete steps into the subway station. "So I might was well make it worth it. More worth it." Her cheeks tinted pink.
"Caroline, I…okay, I'm not sure what I thought of that place, but I liked hanging out with you tonight. But if you're going to be in trouble, maybe I should just take you home."
"It's fine. I know my parents. My father will lecture me—unless Grandfather gets to me first. He'll give me the 'impetuous behavior' speech, the one he usually reserves for Jake—or our father. Mother doesn't usually lecture, not the way Father and Grandfather do. She'll probably say she expects better out of me, but she won't really be angry, just concerned. I'm not ready for the night to end, not unless you are."
"I…really couldn't find my way back to Matt and Sarah's on my own anyway. Hey, where do you live?" It occurred to him that he had no idea. "I know it's near the park but…?"
"Would you be able to find it on a map if I gave you the address?" she teased.
"Probably not."
"So let's just leave it at near Central Park."
The train arrived and they got on.
Caroline settled against his shoulder. "Matt and Sarah are in Washington Heights, right?"
"Yeah. I think it's the M train…? They're on West a Hundred and Sixty-Second street, off Broadway."
"I know where that is. There's a great Caribbean place just around the corner that doesn't close until 3 am. If you like Caribbean food?"
"I've never had it, but I'm game to try."
