Author's Notes
This chapter was slower getting out, because dialogue is a very delicate thing to write, and this chapter is pretty much entirely dialogue. It was made even more fragile, because it was mostly a group scene. Always difficult to pull off, and I wanted to make sure I got it right. This thing seems to have taken on a life of its own. Sorry.
Warnings: emo lyrics, original American characters abound, Emily schemes, twelve pages long
Would like a beta reader. Any takers?
Abnormally Attracted to Sin
Chapter 7: Every Cell Has Been Taught To Think
By Persephone's Nautical Nun
She tries to get Shane's attention towards the end of the song, but he's too wrapped up in his music to pay any attention. She moves over to him as the song comes to an end so that she can whisper something to him as soon as it's over. He looks up at her, and into the crowd, and an evil grin slides onto his face. Emily looks completely horrified as he gestures to the other two guys on stage with them, and relays some information. The both nod, similar grins creeping onto their faces.
What the hell is going on here?
The bass player starts plucking out a note, setting a pace and rhythm. Shane comes in shortly after with a simple melodic riff. "Alright, we're going to do something a little different," Emily says into the microphone. She forgets to smile. The twelve year old comes in with a typical rock beat, and I know this is the wrong venue for this song, and it's probably for my benefit.
When she sings, it's almost a whisper. I can't make out all of what she's saying, just little haunting lines. "Goodbye to sleep… take apart your head… goodbye to love… right against the wall, chew it up and swallow it."
The chorus comes, and the guitars wail, and her voice turns from the soft whisper into something between singing and screaming. I had no idea she could do that. "You're brought back but you're running. I'll find sleep in the end tonight. I can't shake this little feeling, I never do anything right."
The music evens out again as the second verse comes up, and she drops her voice back down, though it's stronger than the whisper from earlier. I can make out this verse in its entirety, and I don't like what I hear. "Goodbye you liar. Well, you sipped from the cup, but you don't own up to anything, then you think you will inspire. Take apart your head. Take apart the demon in the attic to the left."
They dive into the chorus again, and her voice rises. This time, she continues to rise, repeating the last line of the chorus several times. They all drop energy together, and Emily's voice sounds full of emotion. "Take me; take me back to your bed. I love you so much that it hurts my head. Say, I don't mind you under my skin, I'll let the bad parts in, the bad parts in. When we were made we were set apart. Life is a test, and I get bad marked. Now some saint has got the job of writing down my sins. Now, the storm is coming, the storm is coming in." Her voice grew and grew, until she was screaming at the storm. "I never say anything right!"
They drop back down once again, Emily sounding angry and frustrated. "Take me; take me back to your bed. I love you so much that it hurts my head. Say, I don't mind you under my skin. I'll let the bad parts in, the bad parts in. Well, you're my favorite bird, and when you sing I really do wish that you'd wear my ring. No matter what they say I am still the king," at this she looks defiantly across the audience. "Now, the storm is coming." Her voice has dropped back down to a whisper. I can barely hear the last line. "The storm is coming in…"
It was a great performance. That was their best song all night, but it was not what should have been played in this club, and it shows. I'm left shell shocked as the people around me murmur to each other in confusion.
I kind of want to punch them all.
They switch musical styles back to that strange, progressive, trip-hop for the rest of their set. It definitely suited the atmosphere better, and by the end they had actually won over the crowd, though I don't know if it was so much their playing, as it was Emily's presence onstage. The place had a mostly female clientele, and most of them couldn't take their eyes off her.
Huh. Emily's popular in this world.
I loiter next to the stage when they finish, watching them clear their equipment. I want to help, but I'm afraid I'd just be in the way. Emily's not looking at me, but to be fair, I'm not exactly trying to get her attention. I know she knows I'm here, though. Her ignorance is too deliberate.
I move over to her when most of their equipment is packed up. They're mostly just standing around, now. "That was something," I say to Emily's back. It's easier than trying to compliment her to her face.
She turns around to face me, and she doesn't look happy. In fact, it looks like she's trying to contain herself. "What are you doing here, Naomi?"
I open my mouth to answer, but I'm interrupted by the twelve year-old. He's got a mop of white blonde hair, and I can easily see him on a skateboard. "Well, if it isn't the girl with six fingers," he says, smiling, coming up to Emily and throwing an arm around her shoulders. He's also got an American accent, though it's obvious that he and Shane are from two different areas. I wonder how he knows about my six finger episode, but I eventually register him as one of the guys with the hookah. "How's it going?" he asks me, letting his eyes rake over my body. A gross grin slides onto his face.
Great. He's Cook. Only worse.
I ignore him, and keep my attention on Emily. I refuse to answer her question, though. "I didn't know you could do that screaming thing with your voice," I say, gesturing to my throat.
"Oh, yeah, I taught her to do that," the twelve year-old says. He reaches up and massages Emily's neck, just below her jaw. "It's all about loosening those throat muscles up, isn't it, baby?" he asks, leaning into her.
Um… eww.
"Fuck off, AJ," she says, shoving him away from her. He laughs, and walks over to a couple of cables, picking them up and taking them out the back door.
"He seems like an interesting fellow," I say, watching him leave.
Emily rolls her eyes. "He's AJ," she says, as if that explains everything. Maybe it does. She arches her eyebrow and looks at me expectantly. She still wants me to answer her original question, but I'm not going to.
Mostly because I don't know the answer.
She opens her mouth, and I know she's going to voice the question again, but I'm saved when Shane and the guy with the eyeliner walk up to us. I take a closer look at the bassist, because I haven't had the chance to, yet. He's got black hair that hangs lankly around his face, bright blue eyes surrounded by eyeliner the likes of Effy would be proud of, and his lip is pierced on his left side. He's pretty in a creepy kind of way, and I know I've seen him somewhere before. He must have been the other guy with the hookah.
I wonder how Emily knows these guys.
Shane's got a plastic jar in his hand, full of bills and coins. He raises it and shakes it in Emily's direction, getting her attention. "Not counted yet, but it looks like we did pretty well."
"That's surprising," she says, looking at the jar. "We didn't exactly have them eating out of the palms of our hands, did we?" she asks. "Though, that might have been different if you hadn't decided to ambush me with that second song." Her face has turned angry, but Shane looks more amused than anything else.
"Hey, it had to be done," he says, throwing a glance at me. "Besides, I knew we'd clean house no matter what we played," he beams at Emily.
"Oh, yeah? Why's that?" she asks, hands on her hips. I can tell it's just for show, and the anger she feels towards me is dissipating by the second. Thanks, Shane.
He laughs and gestures around us. "Lesbian bar," he says, and then points to Emily. "Hot girl singer. It was a no brainer."
She punches him playfully in the arm. "So, the only reason you wanted me to sing for you is because of my looks?" she asks, and I'm frightened by how much she sounds like Katie.
"Of course not," he says, wrapping his arms around her. "I've been telling you for months that I want you to sing for us permanently. You're the one who keeps turning us down," he explains. I almost feel as though I'm imposing on something. He releases her from the hug and extends his hand to me. "Nice to see you again, Naomi," he says, shaking my hand.
I smile. "Nice to see you again, too," I say politely. Maybe this guy isn't so bad after all.
AJ has come back inside, and is now standing with the rest of them. It feels like I'm being ganged up on, all three of them on Emily's side, and me, all alone, looking on. "Naomi!" AJ catcalls. "That means you moan, right?" he asks, sidling up to me.
Again. Eww.
Also, has originality completely died?
"Wait, so, none of the rest of you are gay?" I ask the group as a whole. I figured they might have been, since they landed a gig on Gay Street. Who goes looking for gigs on Gay Street when you're not homosexual?
"Oh, no," comes the general consensus from the group.
"Well, I'm bi," the bassist says. Why am I not surprised? "I'm Bryan, by the way," he says, offering me his hand. This guy's also American, and also from a different area than Shane or AJ. How did they all wind up here?
Shane and Bryan can stay, I decide. AJ's just weird.
"Hey, let's go count this," AJ suggests, taking the tip jar away from Shane and heading out the back door again.
"Yeah, yeah, alright," Shane says, waving him off. "Come hang out with us for a while," he tells me with a wave of his hand and I find myself accepting without even thinking about Emily, or the fact that she's currently shaking her head discreetly. He just seems like a really nice guy.
"What the fuck?" I ask when we get outside. Parked behind the club is the van we all went to the church in together. I thought it was Cook's.
Emily looks at me and arches an eyebrow, and the pieces start snapping together. That's what Cook and Emily talked about when they left the pub that day. They had planned the whole party, even got one of these guys to lend Emily their van, who then let Cook drive. They played the whole thing like the party was Cook's find, when Emily was behind it all. Why didn't she just tell us? Why go to so many lengths?
Then again, that party took a lot of planning, and work. She talked to Cook that day. What was going on here?
"What?" Bryan asks me. I'm sure he's concerned, but he kind of reminds me of a male Effy, and his face hasn't changed.
"Uh, nothing," I say, shaking my head. This was a conversation I needed to have with Emily. Later.
All of their equipment is put away in boxes and stacked next to the van. I wonder briefly why they don't go ahead and put it away, but my question gets answered without me having to vocalize it. Shane yanks open the back door and climbs inside, throwing himself in the back corner seat and unfolding the tray from the wall.
Emily climbs in after him, claiming the same seat she did the last time we were in this van. AJ's next, and he pauses to hump the air on top of Emily before flopping down next to Shane. "You know I love you there, babe," he says. She flips him off without a word. Does this kid never stop?
Bryan climbs in next and lowers the back on the remaining seat as far as it will go, sitting on the back rest and leaning against the wall of the van. I climb in last, and he gestures to the seat, and I take it.
Shane's already counted the contents of the tip jar, and is dividing it between the four of them. He hands a wad of cash to Emily, and she sets on counting it. "Wow, that's rent for next month," she says, smiling.
"See? Told you," he says, pocketing his own share. "Couldn't have done it without you. Oh, this is for you, too," he continues, holding a piece of paper out to her.
She reads it and starts laughing. She holds it up and reads it out loud. "Emily, I really enjoyed your performance tonight. Call me sometime." She waves the piece of paper in front of her. "There's a fucking phone number," she says, laughing.
The rest of us laugh along with her. "Are you gonna call it?" AJ asks.
"Of course not," she says, looking incredulous. "I have no idea who this person is. She could be seventy."
"Well, hell, if you don't want it, I do," he says, snatching the piece of paper away from her. She arches a brow at him. "What?" he says, holding his hands out. "You refuse to fuck me, I've got to get it from somewhere," he explains.
"You're insane," she says, and leaves it at that.
There's a slight lull in conversation, and I decide to pounce on the opportunity. "So how long have you guys known Emily?"
Shane looks over at her and appears contemplative. "We met what, Emily? About four, five months ago?"
"Sounds about right, yeah," she confirms.
"I was painting abstract portraits on the street corner," he says, reminiscing. "Emily passed right by me, of course."
"Of course," she interrupts. "You're greasy."
I try not to laugh, but one forces its way out of my nose, anyway. I'm saved any embarrassment, though, because Shane laughs, anyway. "Yeah," he says, nodding. "I guess I am kind of greasy. Anyway," he continues. "I was doing these abstract portraits for ten a pop when I see this red haired siren walk down the street. She was so commanding of her person and her space, and had her eyes fixed on her destination, regardless of how far away it was. And nothing else in the world mattered."
I look over at Emily, but she's leaning her forehead against the glass of the window beside her, and I think she might be embarrassed.
"So, naturally," he continues, leaning back in his seat. "I had to paint her. She thought I was crazy when I asked her. I had to run half a block to even catch up with her."
"Well, you looked like a crazy person," Emily reasons. I can see that.
"Wait, so you drew Emily? Abstractly? Can I see it?" I asked, sounding excited. I was excited. The way he made her sound was so striking, and I wanted to see her the way that he did.
"I haven't been able to, yet," he says, sadly. "There's more to this one that meets the eye," he explains, point to Emily. "And I don't want to miss out on putting whatever it is onto canvas. It's almost like…" he trails off, trying to find his words. "Emily represents the freedom that my country is supposed to. Now, hold on," he says, afraid he's offended me. He hasn't. "Everybody over there says that they're so free to be whatever they want, but they're not really. They're all bound by culture rules that they've never bothered to question. Hell, almost everybody over there still thinks it's perfectly okay to dictate who we can and cannot marry. Emily, here," he says, gesturing to her, 'is her own person. She is whole and she is complicated, and she doesn't go into a box. She represents the freedom that my country is supposed to."
I'm reminded of an old quote I heard a while back. I don't remember where I heard it, or who said it, or even why it was brought up in the first place. But the quote was, "Sometimes, you have to see someone else love something in order to learn how." I hadn't understood it at the time, but now I'm beginning to.
"So why doesn't she sing with you guys all the time?" I ask, looking back and forth between the three guys.
"You'd have to ask her that," Bryan says.
AJ blows him off, waving a hand in his direction. "Stop being so fucking cryptic, man," he says, and I see Bryan set his mouth. Interesting. "Emily wants to single-handedly revive the riot girl movement," he explains.
"It's not dead," she insists.
He smirks. "It was dead when it was made."
She flips him off again, and I get the feeling this is like a game to both of them. I can't help but smile as I watch her interact with the three of them.
"But you know all this, right?" Shane asks me, his brow furrowed. I can see the point behind his eyes, and I have to look away. The truth is, I don't know Emily. Apparently, not at all.
Emily throws him a look and turns to me. "They've got their own sound going. Kind of an experimental ambient trip-hop thing going, and while it's really cool, it's not something I want to focus on," she explains, shrugging her shoulder.
Why don't I believe her?
"Yeah, you wanna hear?" Shane asks me, and he looks so eager and excited that I can't possibly turn him down.
I nod, and he gets up and maneuvers himself to the driver's seat. He rifles through a CD sleeve and finally pulls out a blank silver disc, sliding it into the system.
I'm beginning to suspect that music is involved in almost every aspect of Emily's life, and I wonder why I never knew this before.
Shane turns the main lights off, but keeps the fairy lights on, casting us in a dim glow as the van is filled with strange wailings. It's an acquired taste, most definitely, but it's not bad. It's definitely audio surf material, and I think I'd enjoy it more if I were stoned.
As though he could read my mind, Bryan pulls a small cigar box out from underneath the back seat and opens it. The van is immediately filled with the smell of marijuana. Strong marijuana. The kind of marijuana that smells like a strange mixture of fruit loops and puppy shit.
"Good idea, man!" AJ exclaims, pointing emphatically to Bryan as he starts to break up the weed in his box. That kid sure is a character.
Bryan smiles, but otherwise doesn't react. Yup. Male version of Effy. They should never ever meet. Ever.
Emily leans forward, suddenly excited. "Is that the stuff from behind the church?" she asked, eyes wide.
Bryan looks up and nods vigorously, his smile growing. He lifts up an untouched bud and hands it to her, setting it gently in her hand. She examines it closely, oohing and aahing over it. She hands it back to him, and he hands it to me. I have to admit, it's great looking weed, all spongy and red with hair. I bet if I shifting my fingers just slightly, it would start to crumble beautifully.
"Wow," I say, handing it back to him.
"Man, if we had just waited a week," Emily exclaims, looking skywards and shaking her fists.
"Yeah, that party would have been ten times better," AJ says, watching Bryan as he rolls a blunt.
"I told you it was almost done curing," Bryan says, looking at Emily. "You're the one that insisted we move the party up."
She glances quickly at me, but won't maintain eye contact. "Yeah, well," she says, looking down. I don't think she's thought too far beyond that, and doesn't continue.
Bryan finishes rolling the blunt and lights it, hitting it a few times before passing it on to AJ. He immediately starts to roll another one.
"So, you're also an artist?" I ask Shane, remembering the story about how he met Emily.
"Yeah, I try to be," he says, taking the blunt from AJ and bringing it to his lips. "When I can," he says tightly, holding his air in, leaning forward and handing the blunt to Emily.
"You know, Naomi's an artist," she tells him before hitting the blunt herself.
"Really?" he asks me, genuinely interested.
By the time Emily hands me the blunt, Bryan's already fired up a second one. Oh, no. "Not really," I say, inhaling the smoke, and passing it to Bryan, who's already passed the new on to AJ. He hits it and starts rolling a third.
"No, no, that thing on the wall in the church," she says, sitting up. "That was really beautiful."
"I had no idea what I was doing," I explain. "I was just fucking around."
"That's all I ever do," Shane says, smoke emitting from his mouth as he speaks. He hands the blunt off to Emily before turning around and taking the second one from AJ, inhaling from it before exhaling from the previous one.
There is not an amateur smoking bone in these people's bodies.
"I'll have to go look at it," he concludes, as Emily hands me the first blunt. Bryan's getting the third lit. "I bet I can bring the artist out in you."
I'm slightly warmed by the idea, and I have no idea why.
We continue smoking, and Bryan continues rolling until we've got five blunts in rotation. One for each of us. Of course, by the time he gets the last one lit, the first one only goes around one more time before it's out. Still, for several minutes, it was a constant pass and toke, and the amount of smoke that filled the van seeped into my pores. Hell, it was so foggy in there that I couldn't even see Emily, and she was sitting across from me.
That's when Shane's music started to make sense. I did agree that they needed a vocalist, though.
I look over at AJ, and he blows a kiss at me, coupled with a nod. I laugh in his general direction. "What are you, twelve?" I ask.
"Hey, I'm seventeen," he defends, and I think I really might have offended him. Maybe he's got a complex about his size.
Emily sighs, and puts the final blunt out in the ashtray next to her seat. "I think I'm gonna call it a night guys," she says softly, obviously stoned. We all hear her, anyway, gifted with magical pot ears that can pick up the mumbled words spoken by any stoner.
"You want me to drop you guys off?" Shane asks. "You'll have to give us a minute to load up the van, and it might be a little packed, but it's no trouble," he explains.
"No, thank you," she says, standing up and stooping to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling. "We'll walk," she says, and gestures for me to open the door.
I do and we climb out of the van, followed by the guys. "Whoa," I hear off to the side, and look over to see one of the staff taking out the trash. "That looked like something out of a Snoop Dogg video," he says, awed.
I look up to see the smoke cloud above the van, and notice that there's still more coming out. AJ jumps and high fives Shane in excitement. "Yes!"
The more time I spent around him, the easier it was to laugh at his antics.
"You sure you guys don't need any help?" Emily asks them as they start loading up the van with their equipment.
"We're fine," Bryan says, tossing something in the back.
She nods. "Right. Thanks again guys," she says, waving.
"Yeah, be careful," Shane calls to us.
She sighs and we start walking, and things are awkward again. I really wish they weren't.
"Look, I'm sorry about earlier," she says finally, looking at the ground. "I didn't mean to be so angry with you. It's just that these guys…" She sighs, and I can tell she's trying to find the words to explain the situation.
"I like them," I say, trying to be helpful. I wasn't lying. They were interesting.
"But they're mine," she says sharply, and I'm taken aback.
"I'm sorry…?" I say, because I have no idea what's going on anymore.
She sighs and I can tell that she's frustrated. "I met them after we graduated. They're not tainted with all of the drama that comes with our circle of so-called friends," she explains. "I don't want to mix the two worlds. Those guys, what we do, they're mine. I don't want to share them."
I understand to a point. I understand that she hates the drama in our group. Hell, we all do, but we still together regardless. I can understand her wanting to have something outside of it, and her own. But as part of her old world, I was slightly offended.
Though, I guess I haven't made it easy for her.
"So then why did you invite us to that party?" I ask. I'm genuinely curious, because the two behaviors don't make any sense.
She sighs again and stuffs her hands in her pockets, and she's moved from frustrated to afraid. I don't know why. I'm not the horrifying monster she seems to sometimes believe I am. "Because I wanted you to see that I wasn't scary," she finally admits.
Wow. Okay. I didn't expect that. "I don't think you're scary," I say, but I'm not sure I believe it.
She scoffs and stops walking. I notice we're not terribly far from my house by this point, but I don't know why I think it's important. "Are you kidding me?" she asks me, obviously angry. "You've been skittish around me since fucking middle school."
Not a subject you want to talk to me about. Seriously. "You're going to try and use that as evidence of my irrational fear of you? Really? Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" My voice is trying to rise, and I have to concentrate to keep it level. "Gee, I wonder why I'm fucking skittish around you." I've apparently turned on my sarcasm button.
"I was fourteen," she says, and I think she would have yelled it if it had been daylight. "I was stupid, and scared, and made a fucking mistake. I'm sorry."
Well, that's a little too late. "You never told the truth, Emily," I say, no longer confrontational. Now, I just want the conversation over with. This wasn't a place in my history I particularly liked visiting. "I took shit from everyone, from Katie, because you never told the truth."
"Neither did you," she points out sheepishly.
"It wasn't my place."
We stand there for a few minutes, looking at everything but each other. "Look," I say, breaking the silence. "I'm sorry I held a grudge for so long." I was sorry. It's just that there had been so much pain, and it was hard to see through it.
"I'm sorry I never stood up for you," she says, her voice soft and full of regret. Great, now I've made her feel bad, and feel guilty because of it, even though I know there's no real reason to.
I start walking towards my house again, and she follows me, and we both pretend that everything is normal, and that we've been friends for years. "So how does Friday sound?" she asks me as we reach the walkway to my front door.
"What do you mean?" I ask, dumbfounded.
"As your some other time," she explains, smiling. The girl sure could bounce back fast.
"Well, I… I mean, that is…" I stumble over my words, because I've been taken off guard, and have no idea what to say. "I mean, I thought tonight…"
Her eyes darken, and she rolls her head, sticking her tongue out to lick her lips, and I know I've just royally pissed her off. "No, Naomi, it doesn't fucking work that way," her voice has risen, and I try to get her to lower it, but she's off and there's no stopping her. "I didn't even know you were going to be there, tonight. That's not fair. Things don't get to happen when you decide. Other people have to be in on it."
I open my mouth, probably to try and talk my way out of it using some lame excuse involving a surprise, but she won't let me get a word in.
"You know what? Fine," she throws her hands up, as if in surrender. "You know I never took you as the homophobic kind, but I guess I'm wrong." She turns swiftly and starts to walk down the street.
It's not that I'm homophobic. It's that I'm Emilyphobic.
But the challenge was right there in her words, and my nature is such that I'm powerless not to rise to it. I'm beginning to think she's figured out that reverse psychology works really well on me.
"Friday sounds great," I call down the street, just loud enough for her to hear me.
She stops and slowly turns around. Her face is hard to read, and I hope it's just because she's so far away. She just seems indifferent, and that seems strange. She flops her arms against her side, as though she's at a loss for words. Or maybe it's just at the futility of the situation we're in. I honestly don't know.
She's silent for what seems like hours, but I know it was only seconds, before she seems to come to some conclusion.
"I'll pick you up at eight."