All night long, I felt like I was in limbo, just floating in the middle of nowhere in a strange haze. But in the distance, I could hear the faint sound of waves. I tried to open my eyes, but they refused to obey. After turning my head, the sound of the waves got louder and louder, until the sound was practically in my head. And then, I realized it WAS in my head. In fact, it wasn't waves at all. It was the sound of my pulse throbbing in my head.
I inwardly winced at the emerging pain and slowly pulled the bedsheets over my head, trying to block out the morning light that was attempting to beckon me awake. No way is it morning already, no waaaay, I groaned in my head. My entire body felt like dead weight; even if I wanted to move, my body certainly didn't feel that way, and so stayed still.
That does it, I'm getting up, I thought, whether my body was in the mood to or not. But the moment I rubbed the crusty stuff out of my eyes that had gathered during the night and lifted my head off the pillow, the dull ache in my head started to spread throughout, and turned into a hard pounding, like I was getting hit over the head by a brick or baseball bat or something. I groaned and dropped back down to the bed, trying to put my hands to my head, but they merely fell limply against it. Damn, what did I do last night? I wondered.
Unfortunately, the person who happened to walk in the door at that moment wasn't the one I wanted to ask my question to. "Xania, you really need to stop leaving your dirty clothes all over the floor," I heard her mom grumble. "You have a hamper, why don't you use it?" When she didn't get a reply, I heard her walk over to my side and felt her hand start shaking my shoulder. "Did you party too hard last night or what? We have church today, you know."
I pulled the sheets off of my head and slowly opened my eyes, looking up at her. "Sorry, I ain't the one you wanna be talkin' to," I said hoarsely.
Xania's mom yelped in surprise and leaped about a mile in the air. "Rocío! What are you doing?"
"I dunno, I just woke up here. Don't yell, 'k? My head hurts." I put a hand to my head again, which was pounding anew.
"What, did she get so desperate as to resort to girls?" she asked sarcastically.
"I don't sleep with girls!" I heard Xania protest from the entrance to her room. Her mom turned around and faced her.
"Oh, there you are," she said in a huff. "Get ready for church. And get your friend something for her hangover." She pushed Xania aside and strided out of the room.
"Hangover?" I repeated. "Did I get drunk?"
"Boy howdy, did you ever," Xania replied, walking over to me. "But don't worry, at least you were a coherent drunk." She chuckled.
"I don't remember anything," I groaned, burying my face in the pillow; the room seemed so bright all of a sudden, and that light really hurt my head. "Did I do anything stupid?"
"Well, you nearly slept with Rob, but other than that, no."
"What…?" I managed to lift my head up. "Rob? Whozzat?"
"The kid whose party we went to," she said, raising an eyebrow. "But you told me you didn't sleep with 'im because you started getting flashbacks about when your dad stabbed you, and you beat the living shit out of him."
"You gotta be messin' with me. I wouldn't hop into bed with no guy, uh-uh."
"Well, you WERE drunk. Probably why he chose you as a nice choice for a lay."
"I didn't sleep with him, I didn't," I moaned.
"You didn't, I already said that. You told me you ALMOST did. Don't worry, your precious virginity is still intact," Xania said cheekily. She turned around to open a dresser drawer, then dug around in it for something. After a moment, she grabbed a bottle and handed it to me. "Take two of those to make your head not feel like somebody used it as a soccer ball."
"Thanks," I said, taking the bottle in my hand.
"Take 'em now, trust me."
"Then I'd hafta sit up…"
"I know," she said flatly. "But it's better than laying in bed all day with your head poundin'. Just take two of 'em, then lay back down if you need to."
I grudgingly sat up, holding my head with my free hand, then managed to open the bottle and dump two pills into my hand. As I sat there just staring at them, the pounding in my head making it hard for any thoughts to get through, Xania left to get me a glass of water. Once she came back with it, I took it from her, then took a deep breath, popped the pills in my mouth, took a gulp of the water, then choked them down.
"Ow," I groaned, setting the glass on the nightstand as I slowly laid back down on the bed.
"It should feel better in about half an hour," Xania said, stripping her pajamas. Normally I would've turned away, but with as much as my head was bugging me at this point, I didn't really care.
"You seem like you have experience with this," I pointed out as she stepped into a fresh pair of panties, then pulled on some pantyhose and a bra.
"Like hell I do," she concurred, walking to the closet to pick out a church dress. "If you figure you're gonna be hurtin' in the morning, may as well be prepared, right?"
"Right," I said as she pulled on the dress, zipping up the back. "How'd you get me up here, anyway?"
"You passed out in the car on the way back," Xania said, applying mousse to her hair as she brushed it back. "But when we got back here, I woke you up and managed to drag you upstairs and put you to bed."
"Where'd you sleep?"
"Downstairs on the couch. Don't worry 'bout hoggin' my bed, I just didn't want to get the ugly side of it in case you woke up today and decided you needed to throw up," she joked. "You hungry?"
"Not really."
"Well, too bad. I'm gonna go downstairs and make ya some bacon and eggs. A good meal's one of the best things for a hangover."
I just laid there and looked at Xania funny for a second. She was almost talking like a mother, the way she was saying that food would help with my hangover, and to be prepared in case you do get one, and so on. It seemed unlike her, but at the same time, considering her lifestyle, I suppose it shouldn't have come as much of a surprise.
"And drink that water too," she said, bursting into my thoughts. "It'll help too."
"Ok, mother," I quipped, smirking. She returned the smirk.
"Don't you call me that. I ain't no mom, I'm just someone who's been there enough times to know how to deal with it. It's common sense."
"Isn't it also common sense to not drink to begin with?" I countered, chuckling.
"Hey, I'm not the one laying in bed with a splitting headache here," she laughed, pulling on her dress shoes. "I'm gonna go get breakfast ready, so just…lay there and suffer till it's ready."
"Will do," I replied wryly as she left and headed downstairs. After she left, I sat up slowly and reached for my glass of water, taking slow sips from it. Having seen Mom deal with more than one hangover in her life, I would've thought that I'd know how to deal with it myself, but apparently I hadn't been paying too much attention. If I had, I wouldn't have been laying here being waited on hand and foot by Xania. She cares too much, I thought as I sipped my water, which really helped get rid of that sweaty-sock taste I had in my mouth. Oh well, I'll have to remember all of this the next time I go out drinking.
At that thought, I had to frown to myself. What was I thinking when I decided to drink that punch, even though I knew it was spiked? Not like it matters now. I did something totally stupid and now I can't take it back, I thought. What did Xania say his name was? Rob? I thought and tried to recall his face, but I couldn't. I was sure I'd be able to recognize him if I saw him in person, though. He'd nearly seduced me, at the least I should've been able to pick out his face!
"Here ya go!" Xania called out as she reentered the room with a plate of bacon and eggs in one hand, and a glass of orange juice in the other. She set them down on the nightstand and said, "I'd really rather stay here and watch you writhe in pain, but Mom's demanding I go and listen to the priest do his weekly blabbering."
"It's ok, you should go. Don't want to hear your mom do any more of her religious spouting than I have to," I said dryly.
"I'll tell Irodia that you got sick at the party and you're here resting up, ok? Don't worry about her, she'll probably understand."
"I hope so, though I dunno what she'll think when she finds out I got drunk at the party."
Xania grinned. "I've never known you as one to give a rat's ass about what other people think, so don't start on that now. Y'know how I feel about worrywarts."
"Yeah, people who worry too much—"
"—Just end up getting warts, hence the term 'worrywarts'," she finished, laughing. I shook my head in disbelief; I never could figure out how on earth she came up with that. "And trust me," she added, "nobody looks good in warts."
"I know, I know," I said, grabbing a piece of bacon.
"Hurry up!" Xania's mom yelled from downstairs. "We're going to be late!"
"Ok!" Xania called back down. "I better get goin'. We'll be back in about two hours probably."
"Take your time. I just might be here all day."
"Just rest up. Don't want that damn hangover hanging over into tomorrow," she quipped as she headed out the door. "See ya soon!"
"Ok!"
As Xania and her mom left, I munched slowly on my bacon-and-egg breakfast, trying to will my headache to go away while at the same time regretting going to that party last night. If I'd known I'd be acting like a damn idiot, I wouldn't have gone. And now I had to worry about this Rob guy and what he might say if I ended up running into him at school tomorrow. And then, I had a thought. Who the hell cares, I thought. He had it coming to him! Who cares if I run into him? If he gives me any shit, I'll just beat him up again like Xania said I did last night!
-----
By the time I finished picking my way through the bacon and eggs Xania cooked up for me, it was cold, and the orange juice was nearly warm. It just hurt my head too much to rush through anything, or even go at a normal speed. I left the dishes on the nightstand and decided to sleep away my headache; I couldn't feel the aspirin Xania gave me taking effect yet.
By the time I woke up, I could hear the front door opening up downstairs. A moment later, I heard Xania jogging up the stairs and to her room. "Still in bed?" she remarked.
"Yeah, I'm just too comfortable to move," I quipped.
"How do your clothes smell?"
"Why?"
"You were plastered last night, so chances are your clothes smell like the stuff you drank." She walked over to me, then bent over and sniffed. "Yep, got that vodka smell ground into those good."
"So what? I'll change out of 'em and wash 'em when I get back to Irodia's place."
Xania just chuckled. "Nah, let's just wash 'em here. Mikhaila'll give you shit about it, and I doubt Irodia would let you live it down either if she found out you got wasted. So just give 'em here."
"And what do I wear in the meantime?" I inquired.
"Unless you wanna walk around naked, you can wear my clothes," she said. She dug through her drawer and tossed a large shirt, shorts, and underwear my way.
"There's a hole in the shorts," I said, holding them up.
"It's for my tail," she said as she took off her church dress and unwrapped her tail from around her hips, flicking it back and forth. "The shirt'll cover it up, don't worry."
I grudgingly made my way out of bed and started to take off my jeans, but started to lose my balance, so I sat back down on the bed and pulled them off instead. "Do you mind?" I said, feeling a little nervous when Xania watched me with a grin on her face. "I need to change."
"So do I!" she said, pulling off her shoes and pantyhose. "Don't mind me, we're both girls."
"Don't stare though," I groaned. Xania just grinned and turned her back to me while we both changed. Once Xania was in some more comfortable clothes, she ran her fingers through her hair and rumpled it up again into her usual hairstyle.
"Ah, much better," she said as she put on her shades, wagging her tail. "How do the clothes fit, Rosho?"
"I need a belt," I said, standing up and modeling them for her. "They feel like they're gonna fall off."
"Here." She dug through a drawer and handed me one, then gathered up my smelly clothes. "I'll go and throw these in the laundry for ya. They'll be done in a couple hours."
I held in a snicker.
"What's so funny?" she inquired.
"I've never seen you act so domestic before. It's cute."
"Cute?"
"Yeah. And besides, your mom was saying something this morning about you leaving your dirty laundry on the floor instead of in the hamper."
Xania snorted and rolled her eyes. "Damn, typical." She bent down and gathered whatever clothes she could carry, then left the room and headed downstairs. I laughed to myself, then grabbed her hairbrush off of her dresser and brushed my hair, trying to make it look semi-decent. Once I was done, I set it down, then decided to take the dirty dishes from breakfast downstairs, but once I picked them up, Xania came running back into the room.
"I'll take those," she said, practically snatching them out of my hands. She turned and hurried back downstairs, then a moment later came back up.
"You don't need to cater to me. I'm not an invalid," I said, wide-eyed.
"No, but the hangover still looks like it has a grip on ya. Take a look in the mirror," she said, turning me around so I could look in the mirror. I grimaced when I saw that my eyes were bloodshot, there were dark circles around them, and my skin looked pasty.
"I look like a zombie," I mumbled, rubbing one side of my face with my hand. Xania took me by the hand and dragged me to the bathroom. She filled the sink with water, then dipped one hand in and splashed my face with some. I yelped.
"That's cold!" I gasped.
"It'll help ya feel better," she assured me. "It'll help ya wake up more too."
I bent down and splashed my face a few times with the ice-cold water, then dried it with a washcloth and looked in the mirror again. "Hey, I look better too," I remarked.
"Told ya," Xania said, smirking. "And if you wanna take a shower, take a cold one. A hot one'll just make your head hurt more."
"Why are you trying to help me so much?" I asked, looking at her. "It's my fault I let myself get drunk."
"You're a friend, and you've never handled being drunk and hung over and all that shit. Just wanted to show ya how to get through it." She grinned. "And besides, you're keeping me from having to deal with the bitch from hell downstairs."
"But once I leave, you'll hafta deal with her."
"Yeah, but better later than sooner," she laughed. "You're just a convenient excuse for me to avoid her."
"Is that all I am?"
She grinned and hugged me, chuckling. "Of course, my sweet hung-over little thing."
I hugged her back and said, snickering, "If my head weren't hurting, I'd be kicking your ass right now."
"I know, that's why I'm saying it now and not later," she joked.
-----
"I don't believe it one bit," Mikhaila remarked over dinner.
"Don't believe what?" I asked, shoving a forkful of au gratin potatoes in my mouth.
"Xania saying you got sick at that party. You just wanted to avoid church, right?"
"That's not it. I just didn't think I'd be able to handle going to church with a stomach flu. I don't think God would appreciate me puking in His holy house," I quipped.
"It's not a sin if you don't go to church every Sunday," Irodia concurred. "Mikhaila, you know you haven't gone every single Sunday either, so don't rub it in Rocío's face when she misses one."
Thank God Irodia's taking my side on this one, I thought to myself. Thanks to Xania's little tips about washing my clothes and me taking a shower before I headed back to Irodia's place – I swore to myself I would NEVER call it home – nobody was able to tell that I had been drunk the night before. My head also felt much better, but I still wasn't very hungry. Fortunately, Irodia and Tyler just attributed that to the 'stomach flu' I had.
"Rocío, if you weren't feeling well last night, you shouldn't have gone to the party," Tyler said, cutting up his pork chop.
"I felt fine beforehand, but I ate some really nasty hot wings there and I just couldn't hold anything down after that," I replied.
"That's the trouble with parties; you never know where that food has been."
Or the punch, I groaned in my head. "Maybe I should just bring my own food next time."
"Or eat before you go," Irodia cut in.
"So, did you meet any cute guys there?" Mikhaila teased.
My eyebrow twitched at the thought. "The one guy who hit on me was a total ass. So no, I didn't." I put down my fork. "He was a lot like that guy that shoved me in the pool last weekend."
She just snickered. "Yeah, I bet."
"I'm not gonna let you off easy for that, you know," I snapped. "And especially not for taking that picture of Michiko and me. I know you took it."
"You have no proof. What're you gonna do, dust that desk for fingerprints?" she spat.
"Maybe I can't prove you did it, but I don't know anyone else who would. So that leaves you as the only suspect."
Tyler sighed. "Rocío, let's not play the blame game here. Perhaps you should just forgive her and move on."
"Move on?" I protested, as if that was a ridiculous suggestion, which it was. "That picture's the last one I have of her! It's hard enough trying to admit to myself she's even dead!"
"'And Jesus said, 'I answer you, not seven times, but seventy times seven,''" Tyler quoted from the Bible. "Jesus would want you to forgive her, and so do I. So tell Mikhaila you forgive her for taking it, if in fact she did."
"Not until she gives it back! And until she does, I'm not gonna forgive her, ever! Not once, or seventy-times-seven times like Jesus said to what's-his-name! I want that picture back, and I'm gonna give her hell until she does!" I yelled defiantly, standing up.
"What's wrong, Rocío? Is the hair that got stuck up your ass starting to fester?" Mikhaila asked dryly, repeating verbatim the very thing I had asked her a few months earlier.
"You're dead!" I yelled, starting to jump at her, when Irodia jumped out of her seat to hold me back.
"Rocío, please! Hitting her isn't going to do anything!" she tried to convince me.
"Haven't we been through this once already?" I grumbled.
"Yes, and there's no point in going through it again. You should just go to your room and cool off before you blow your top."
"Fine!" I threw Irodia's arms off me and marched to my room, slamming the door shut. "Let her keep the picture! I don't care anymore!" I yelled through the door. "You hear me! Just KEEP it! Keep it for all I care!"
"Rocío, you're acting like a child," Tyler grumbled, pounding on the door. "Unlock this door at once, young lady."
"Who cares if she's acting like a child?" I heard Mikhaila ask snidely. "She deserved having that picture stolen anyway! I say she's made her bed, just let her lay in it."
"Take that back, Mikhaila," Irodia ordered. "We run a house of discipline, I'm not going to let anarchy take over."
Does it matter? I thought to myself as I laid down on the bed, listening to the rain as it started to pour outside, as well as Tyler's demands that I let him in. Looks like she already rules the house anyway, and her own parents are just puppets. I'm not becoming another one of her puppets, no way in hell.
-----
I dunno what was harder to deal with at school the next day – the power struggle between Mikhaila and me, or the fact that I'd eventually have to face that son of a bitch who tried to get me in bed with him while I was drunk. Whatever memory I had of the latter made me shudder in disgust. No way that could have been me at that party; I would never let my guard down like that. I must've been really out of it to let myself get like that, I thought. And it's Mikhaila's fault too. Damn, everything's her fault! She really must have it out for me!
I tried to not let myself dwell on that as I made my way through the school day, half-listening to the teachers' lectures and BSing my way through several quizzes along the way. By the time it was lunch break, however, I had noticed a disgusting rumor start to circulate its way through the school.
"Ok, what's going on?" I inquired to Sara when I passed her in the hallway on the way to my locker. "I've noticed kids giving me weird looks all day."
"Well, I figured YOU'D know," she replied, wide-eyed.
"No, I don't."
"Were you at Rob's party on Saturday night?"
"Yes," I groaned. "Is this about that?"
"Yeah. Rob is bragging to everybody about how he got you to sleep with him."
"WHAT?" I nearly dropped my backpack to the floor in surprise, while several kids who were passing us gave me a weird look when they heard me yell. "That BASTARD!"
Sara looked at me, confused. "What, you didn't sleep with him?"
"Hell no! I got drunk – not on purpose, mind you – and then he had the balls to try to seduce me while I was out of it!"
"What about the bruises he has, then? He said you were just rough in bed."
My eyebrow twitched. "I had a flashback about when my dad stabbed me, and I freaked out and beat the crap out of him."
"Ohhh."
"The only reason I even know that he tried to sleep with me is because Xania told me I'd told her about it. I actually don't really remember much of that night myself."
"Well then, I guess we have to try to dispel that ugly rumor, hmm?"
"Damn right," I concurred. "Could you tell Juliana, Vicky, and Karen for me? I don't wanna have to repeat myself any more times than I'll have to."
"Sure," she said, smiling. "Oh, about you being drunk…"
"What?"
"Didn't you get a hangover afterwards?"
"Yeah, but Xania helped take care of me," I grudgingly admitted. "My head feels fine now. Thanks for asking."
"No problem. I'll try to tell people that Rob's just inflating his own ego with that story he's spreading, but right now I gotta get to class."
"So do I. Thanks, Sara."
"Sure!"
As she walked away, I groaned and tossed my backpack over my shoulder and headed to my next class. Somehow I knew I wouldn't be able to get away with beating Rob up, and as it turned out, I was right. I was sure it wouldn't take much 'convincing' to get him to retract his story though. He's probably just all talk, the bastard, I thought.
-----
The rest of the day, whenever kids would tease or ask about the supposed fling I had with Rob, I'd just casually explain the true story, hoping they'd shut up about it afterwards. A few kids believed me, but others thought I was just trying to keep an 'aura of mystery' around me. One boy even dared to ask how many guys I'd slept with, and the only reason he got away without any bruises was because the math teacher happened to walk in at that moment and told us to lay off.
By the time math class was over, I sighed in relief. Finally, I could get out of here and away from the jeers and jokes from the other kids. As I headed out to the student parking lot, Xania jogged up to me and accompanied me.
"People been giving you shit all day?" she asked. I nodded wearily.
"Yeah. I just wanna get out of here," I groaned. "I haven't gotten this much attention since I first went back to school after getting shot through the leg."
"At this rate, you'll probably have to wear a wig to get through the parking lot safely," she quipped.
"I'm not gonna wear any wig. If people wanna give me shit, that's their business, but just because they're giving me shit doesn't mean that I'm going to be forced into hiding. Rocío Monterrey doesn't hide!"
"You'd be right about that," I heard a guy say behind me. I stopped in my tracks, then slowly turned around to face a guy whose face was black and blue, yet was grinning. That face kinda looks familiar, I thought.
"Dammit, you've caused enough bullshit for one day, Rob," Xania snapped. "Lay off."
"What?" he asked innocently, putting his hands up in front of him as if in surrender. "What're you telling me to lay off for?"
"Rosho didn't sleep with you. We all know that."
"She was drunk, she probably can't remember anything."
"You'd be right, I can't remember," I admitted, folding my arms over my chest. "But just because I can't remember doesn't mean people should be taking YOUR word for it."
"C'mon, you know that we fucked each other crazy that night," he said, grinning impishly. "Just look at the bruises you gave me! You're one rough girl!"
"You're just too chickenshit to admit that you got beat UP by a girl, that's all," I spat. "Trust me, it'll be easier on yourself if you admit THAT, rather than have me kick your ass again."
"Yeah, you do that," he said, beckoning me to come towards him. "Come kick my ass any day, girl. You're welcome to it."
I smirked. "Ok, since you asked…"
I took a few steps towards him, but before I could even swing my fist, I heard the cocking of a gun behind me and froze. Who was that?
"Take it back, Rob," I heard a voice say.
"Greg?" Xania exclaimed. I spun around and sure enough, there was Greg, just a step behind me and with a very nice-looking gun in his hand.
Greg aimed the gun at Rob and ordered, "Just take it back, Rob."
"S-shit, man, don't need to shoot me!" Rob said, suddenly shaken.
"Rocío's a nice girl. I've known her a couple months, and I know that she wouldn't just hop into bed with any random guy. If she WAS drunk, then I bet you were just trying to take advantage of her. So just take back the story and I won't have to cap you."
"Greg, I can do this myself," I grumbled.
"You're just jealous you didn't have her in YOUR bed!" Rob threw at him.
Greg put his finger on the trigger, threatening to pull it. "Don't make me put a bullet in your forehead, you asshole! I'll do it!"
Rob scuffed the sole of his shoe against the asphalt and cursed under his breath. "Fine! I didn't sleep with Rocío. She WAS in my bed though, and nearly butt naked too, but she flipped on me and beat me up. There, happy?"
"Yes. Now get outta here."
Rob turned and walked off, grumbling under his breath. Once he was out of sight, Greg put his gun in his backpack, then turned to me. "There, he won't be buggin' ya anymore," he said, grinning.
"Oh, my knight in shining armor," I groaned sarcastically. "You didn't need to do that for me. I had it under control."
"But you were a damsel in distress. It was my royal duty to save you," he replied, playing along.
"Call me that again, and you're the one who's gonna have your ass kicked instead of Rob's."
Xania sighed pseudo-dreamily. "Ah, our hero!"
Greg bowed. "At your service anytime, m'lady."
Didn't they break up? I thought; I could've sworn I heard Xania tell me as much.
"Well, we gotta get goin', Greg. Thanks again!" Xania said, heading to my bike. I started to follow, but instead turned back to Greg and pulled him aside.
"Did I do something wrong?" he asked.
"No," I said. "Where'd you get that gun of yours?"
"Someplace downtown."
"Know where?"
"Yeah. Why?" he inquired.
"'Cause that's obviously a very nice gun, and I want one like it." I smiled sweetly. "So, could you tell me where to go to get one?"
"Aren't you underage? You're gonna get hell if you're under eighteen."
"I'm seventeen, but that's never stopped me before."
"What would you want a gun for, anyway?"
"Protection," I said bluntly.
"From who? People like Rob?"
"Something like that."
He sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Ok, where I got it from is from this black-market dealer. It's not a problem to get a gun from him even if you're underage. He'll sell one to ya for a good price too, a lot cheaper than what a licensed dealer will want."
"So tell me how to get there!" I persisted.
Greg reached into his backpack and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. As he started to write down the directions, he said, "Ok, you gotta go to eastern downtown to the Bella María restaurant, then you head a block north of there to Evans Boulevard. On the left side, between the two big buildings there, there'll be a big alleyway. Go in there. There's a shooting range there called the Black Spider. Go in there and ask for Bert, and tell him I sent ya. He'll take it from there."
"Thanks," I said, taking the paper from him and jamming it into my backpack. "You sure he won't try anything funny? I don't need anything like that right now."
"Well, he might, but if he sees you're not interested, he'll get the hint."
"Ok. Thanks."
After Greg walked away towards his car, I headed to my bike and climbed on in front of Xania. "What'd you ask him?" she asked as I started it up.
"Just wondering where he got his gun," I said innocently. "Got any plans this weekend?"
"Saturday I'm free. Why?"
"I was just thinking you and I could take a ride downtown."
-----
Just like with the party situation the previous weekend, Irodia refused to let me go anywhere until I had my homework done. As a result, I ended up rushing through it, and she made me stay even longer to get it all right. Once it was done though, I grabbed my jacket, ran out the door, and rode my bike to Xania's place and picked her up.
It was about a half-hour ride to downtown Sacramento. This was my first trip down here, and once I was hit with all the sounds and smells of the place, it instantly reminded me of Tokyo. I had to stop thinking of that for the moment, though, so I could look for the Bella María restaurant that Greg was talking about.
Xania started sniffing the air. "I smell Mexican food! We're close!"
"Where do I go?" I asked.
"Straight down the street, then make a left to get to Evans. That's the street you need, right?"
"Yeah."
After another minute of driving, I saw the restaurant on my left, then I made a left turn at that intersection, and after being stuck in traffic for another ten minutes or so, I found Evans.
"Two big buildings, just like he said," I remarked, parking next to the closest parking meter available.
"What a part of town to have a shooting range at," Xania said, hugging herself and shivering as I put change into the parking meter.
"Is this part of town bad?"
"Prostitution and murder. Now why the hell would Greg send you here for a lousy gun?"
"Well, I imagine the murderers need a place to get a good gun," I quipped, taking off my helmet. "Doesn't surprise me this place would be in this kind of neighborhood."
"You really ARE a city girl, arentcha! See a lot of violence where you grew up?" she inquired.
"Inside or outside my home? About the same either way," I said, trying to sound cynical about it.
"Heh. Right…"
I headed in between the two buildings, and at first sight, it looked like any other regular street alley. Once I walked past a dumpster, however, I noticed something behind it. I shoved the dumpster aside, with help from Xania, and saw a door with the words 'Black Spider' scrawled on it.
"This don't look good," Xania said, looking suspicious.
"Only one way to find out," I said. I took a breath, then knocked on the door. If I get killed by these guys, it would be the biggest piece of irony I'll have ever seen, I groaned in my head. Hiding out here in the U.S., only to be offed by a bunch of thugs? Well, it would beat getting ripped apart by a Boomer, but if these guys had a bunch of cybernetic implants, then getting killed by them wouldn't really make a difference.
After a tense moment, I heard a voice behind the door. "Who there!" a guy demanded.
"I'm Rocío Monterrey," I called to him. "A friend of mine named Greg sent me here to talk with some guy named Bert."
I heard several locks click, and then the door opened, and a black guy wearing a bandanna greeted me. "Good. Was hopin' you weren't no cops."
"Nope, no cops around here."
"Get in here," he said, ushering us in. He looked around to make sure no one else was in the alley, then shut the door and locked it.
The guy, who said his name was Juan, led us down a dark flight of stairs to where the shooting range was. I held my nose most of the way down; the walls smelled like something had died in them. Xania apparently had the same reaction, for she was waving her hand in front of her face the whole time, as if to get the smell away from her face.
"Hold it," Juan suddenly said, stopping us. "Lift your arms." I did so, and he patted my sides up and down, then turned me around and patted my butt.
"I don't have a wire," I said, catching on to what he was searching for. "And stop patting my ass."
"Your girlfriend here wired?"
"No, my tail is really a hidden microphone," Xania quipped. "You're really anal, arentcha!"
"This place isn't legal, of course he's anal," I mumbled as Juan resumed his march, and we followed him down the rest of the stairs and down a hallway that was just as rotten-smelling as the stairs were. I regretted not bringing a noseplug. Then, Juan came to a stop and opened a door on the right, and when Xania and I stepped through, I saw what was definitely a shooting gallery. There was a row where people could line up to shoot, and at the opposite end was a moving conveyor belt with cutouts of cops and civilians to shoot at. Now all it needs is some Boomers, I thought dryly.
"YO! Bert!" Juan called into the shadows. "Some gals here to see ya!" Out of the shadowy corner came a very tall and well-built guy, his arms covered in tattoos, a scar over his right eyebrow. He looked at me, eyed me up and down, then looked at Xania.
"Lookin' a little delicate to be comin' to this kinda place, eh?" Bert inquired.
"I want a gun. My friend here, her ex-boyfriend referred me to you," I said.
"What's the guy's name?"
"Greg."
"Oh, him. Yeah, I know 'im pretty well. Comes down here all the time to do some target practice. Nice guy, but I don't like his pretty-boy looks." He flicked his cigarette onto the floor and ground it into the floor with his heel to put it out. "What's your name?"
"Rocío. And this is Xania."
Bert eyed Xania and grinned. "Yeah, Greg's talked about you. Once I saw that tail, I figured it musta been you."
"Not like I'm the only girl in town with a tail," Xania said, crossing her arms.
"Probably not," he agreed, "but how many have a monkey-style tail, have spiky black hair, and wear pink-tinted shades?"
"That guy, he never did stop gushin' on about me," she said, grinning nostalgically. I cleared my throat.
"Oh, right," Bert said, turning to me. "So why'd you want a gun?"
"Protection, what else?"
"Works for me. You'd need at least a .45 then."
"I think that's what my last gun was."
Xania raised an eyebrow; she hadn't known I'd had a gun before. "You've had a gun? What happened to it?" Bert asked.
"It was wrecked."
"Wrecked? You don't let a gun get wrecked!" he spat, practically bawling me out. "You treat a gun like you would your own seed, y'hear?"
"Well, it was under, ahem, extenuating circumstances. Don't make me elaborate," I said, crossing my arms as I eyed him, warning him not to push me. He seemed to get the hint, for he relaxed and let out a breath.
"What kinda shit did you want on this gun you want? Name it, I probably got somethin' with those features on it." He walked over to a large cabinet, unlocked it, and opened it up. I gasped when I saw the arsenal that he had.
"Damn! That's a lot of guns!" I gasped, gaping.
"Like I said…" he said, grinning.
"Well, uh…" I had to stop and think for a moment. "I want one that's a semi-automatic, at least a .45 like you said, gas-operated, and can have grenades attached to it."
"High-maintenance girl," Bert quipped, scratching his head, yet looking amused. "You sure it's just for protection and not for startin' a turf war with some gang?"
"Yeah, I'm sure," I said nonchalantly.
"Whaddaya mean gas-operated?" Xania cut in. "A gun that needs gas to operate?"
I snickered. "No, it doesn't need gas."
"The kid means that she wants a gun that when you fire it, the gases that are used when firin' it are sent back through the gun to make it work," Bert explained.
"Makes it so there's not as much recoil," I concurred.
"Ohh. That works," Xania said, looking a little confused.
"And it also spits out the spent round, cocks the gun, and puts another bullet in the chamber so it's ready to fire again," Bert finished.
"I ain't a gun buff, but still sounds cool." She still looked confused.
"Did ya want one that loads the clip in the handle, or in front of the trigger?" Bert asked, looking through his guns.
"In front of the trigger," I said. "And do you have one that'll fit a 15-round clip?"
"Fifteen? Sure do. Anythin' else?"
"Yeah. Do you have one that has a fingerprint reader?"
"O' course."
Can't be too safe, I thought. At least if I had a fingerprint reader on my gun, no one else would be able to use it if they got a hold of it; only I would be able to fire it. That would also keep a potential disaster from happening if Mikhaila happened to find the gun and look down the barrel to see if it was loaded…although part of me wished that would happen.
"Ah, think you'll like this one," Bert called out, donning some gloves before picking up a very spiffy-looking black gun that reminded me a lot of Mom's Member II. "It's a Warther. Gotta love the Germans, they make the best fuckin' guns on Earth."
"What kind of Warther?" I asked.
"It's a new kind they started making about three years ago. It's called the Spitdevil."
"Spitdevil?"
"Yeah. Weird name, but great fuckin' gun. Wanna try it out?"
"Does it have everything?"
"Semi-automatic, .45 caliber, gas-operated, fits grenades, is a front-loader, and has a fingerprint reader on the trigger," he rattled off.
"That works for me."
"Ok." He walked over and handed me a pair of goggles to wear, and after I put them on, he handed me the gun and a clip. I stood there with the gun in my hand, eyeing it at every possible angle. It was great! It looked a lot like my old gun. I loaded the gun, then turned and stood at the counter in front of the moving targets, spreading my legs apart slightly. I aimed the gun, straightened my arms, then waited for the right target – a cop – to pop in front of me. Then I fired.
The sound of a clang filled the air as the bullet went slamming into the metal face of the fake officer. I grinned and cheered, then started firing at all the cops that I could. Every single one of them, I hit in the face or in the chest, whichever one I aimed at. Bert looked impressed.
"You've trained with guns, I see," he said.
All sorts of weapons, not just guns, I thought. "Yeah, I have. This thing is kick-ass!" I exclaimed. "How much is it?"
"That's the bad part," he said. "$1,200."
"Huh?" I almost dropped the gun in surprise. "Just for this?"
"Hey, you're lucky that I like ya," Bert said, smirking. "If I didn't, I'd be charging ya way more for it. And 'sides, I gotta make it worthwhile to bring all the way over from Germany. The Spitdevil's illegal here, like all grenade-fittin' guns are, and if I can't make some money on it…" He shrugged. "That's what you get for wanting one with all the fancy stuff on it."
I took off the goggles and tossed them aside. "This is bullshit! It was EASY for my mom to get me a gun back home, and back there, just about every kind of gun is illegal."
"How much did she pay for it?"
"…I dunno. But she wanted me to make sure I'd be able to protect myself."
Bert suddenly got a mischievous grin on his face. "Wellll…I might be able to work out a compromise."
"I know that grin," I growled. "I'm not going to stoop that low just to get a gun. You can forget it."
"Not even some oral action?" he teased.
"NO! I've never done that, and I'm not gonna start now! I'd just as soon go without a gun."
"What about your friend then? She and Juan are lookin' like they're havin' fun." He nodded behind me, and I turned around and saw Juan and Xania in the back corner, all over each other.
"Oh God." I slapped my hand over my face. "Xania, not here!"
Xania stopped kissing Juan and looked at me curiously. "Huh? Oh, it's nothin', Rosho! We're just kissin' and getting to know each other a little better."
"At least clothes aren't flying," I groaned.
"I have an idea," Bert said, that grin pasted on his face. "Yo, Xania!"
"What?" she called.
"Ever had a guy watch ya go at it with another guy before?"
"I'm not hearing this, I'm not hearing this," I mumbled, putting my hands over my ears and humming a tune.
"Yeah, why?"
"Your friend here doesn't like the price of the gun that she's fallen in love with, so I figure we could work somethin' out."
"Like what?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow as she climbed off Juan's lap.
"Lemme watch you and Juan get all sweaty, and if I'm happy with what I see, I'll give your friend a break on the price."
"You people are sick," I said to myself, dumbfounded that this was actually happening. I was almost hoping that Xania would refuse, though in the back of my mind, I knew she'd go for it.
Which she did.
"I don't have to watch, do I?" I groaned.
"Nah, I will," Bert said, grinning. I groaned again. "You can wait out in the hallway while they're gettin' hot and heavy if it bugs ya."
"Thanks for giving me that option, I guess." I looked at Xania. "Just be careful, ok?"
"I will, I will. Don't worry. Depending on what these guys want, we might take a while though."
"Fine."
I left the gun on the counter and left the room, closing the door behind me. I sat down, leaning against the opposite wall, hoping that Juan and Xania's groans of pleasure wouldn't seep through the walls. I even plugged my ears in case that was going to be the case, but fortunately, it wasn't. When I realized that, I breathed a sigh of relief. Oh duh, this is a secret shooting gallery, of course he's gonna make it soundproof in case anybody comes snooping around, I thought, inwardly hitting myself for thinking the walls would really be that thin. Ah, mixed blessings.
A short while later, Bert told me I could come back in, and when I walked back into the room, Xania and Juan were just finishing getting redressed. Xania looked at me and flashed a weary grin as she put on her shades. I just rolled my eyes and snatched the gun off the counter, firing it once to make sure that it was only reading my prints and not anyone else's.
"So what's the price now that you had your fun?" I inquired.
"$800. That's a real deal for that kind of gun, so you should be thankful," Bert said, lighting another cigarette.
"Better than $1,200, but I don't have $800 with me."
"How much do you got with ya?"
"$500, but I'll be getting more next month."
"Where ya get that money from? You deal drugs?" he joked.
"My mom provides for me every month. Anyway, how about I just give you $400 now, and next month I'll give you the other $400?"
"And what if I don't get the other $400?" He started to frown.
"If I wanted to rip you off, I would've just run out of here with the gun the moment you put it in my hands. I'll be back next month with the rest of the money, you have my word."
"I'm not fond of payment plans with first-time customers," he said, eyeing me suspiciously. "Just give me the $400, and if I don't get the other half by this time next month, I WILL be coming after you."
"You do that," I replied cheekily as I dug out my wallet and forked over $400 in cash. Bert waved the bundle in front of his face and sniffed.
"Ah, never get tired of the smell of greenbacks," he said, putting the money away. He rifled through the gun cabinet, then handed me a few 15-round clips. "I always give customers some free clips. No use having a gun if you don't have ammo to go with it."
"Throw in a grenade too. Just one."
He grinned and shook his head in disbelief as he grudgingly handed me a grenade, which I put away in my jacket along with the gun and clips. "You'd make a great con artist, Rocío."
"I know," I replied, grinning as me and Xania headed out the door. "This time next month, I'll be back."
"Juan, lead the ladies out," Bert said, nodding towards us. Juan nodded and led us back down the smelly hallway and up the stairs, and I winced as the fresh sunlight hit my eyes.
"After I close the door, put the dumpster back in front of it," he ordered.
"Will do," Xania and I both replied.
Before closing the door, Juan winked at Xania. "See ya later." Then, the door was shut.
After we both shoved the dumpster back in front of the door and headed out to my bike, Xania just grinned and wagged her tail. "Have fun?" I asked dryly.
"He was ok," Xania said, shrugging. "He didn't have much experience, but we had to make it look fun for that tattooed guy, so I just pretended that that Juan guy was the best lover ever." She leaned closer to me as I pulled on my helmet. "Which he wasn't."
"You already said that." We both climbed on, and I started up my bike. "I feel bad though. I wouldn't have gotten the gun if it meant that you'd have to sleep with some stranger."
"Don't feel bad. I was fine with it," she said, wrapping her arms around my waist as I drove down the street. "Besides, you wanted protection, and hell, in this town, you'll need it."
"That reminds me…did YOU use protection?"
"With Juan? Yeah. I slipped a rubber on him beforehand."
"Well…that's good."
"You really need to loosen up." She slapped me lightly on the back. "Maybe I should hook you up with someone so you learn not to be so uptight about shit like this. Learn to let down your guard and have some fun for a while!"
"I'd rather not…"
"I know! How about I hook you up with Greg? He's great company AND great in bed! What else could you want?"
"A real life?" I responded sarcastically. "It's hard enough doing school and homework and tai chi and church. After all that, I have hardly any time left, so why would I want to waste it with some guy? After last weekend, I'm really not in a hurry to jump into a relationship."
"Rob was a bastard, I know, but forget about him!"
"Xania, he…he molested me. I don't want to get myself into a situation where that might happen again. I don't trust guys as it is. Can we just drop it?"
"…Fine. But that won't stop me from trying to hook you up!" she warned me, laughing.
I smirked. "I just dare you to try that, 'cause I won't fall for it."
"Oh, you never know!"