I had traveled from Venice, to Moss Beach, through Montara, out of Pacifica, and had finally reached Southern San Francisco. I reasoned that Hazel, or people who would know her, would reside there.
It had taken two weeks to make it, and what I did to get there would not be looked on with pride.
After I left that first parking lot, I realized just how far I had to go, and how expensive gas was. Whenever possible, I would only go to the gas stations where I could manually rewind the price. For food, I would scope out a diner that appeared friendly, and play upon the little bit of good nature humanity possessed. But, the one time I had run out of money, and needed a fix, I sunk to the level of selling sex for dope money. It was not intentional, and happened on accident. The night this occurred, I could not sleep. It was the night I lost all my dignity, and every detail was burned into my mind. It was the Monday of the second week, and I had pulled into a parking lot next to a bar called 'Mohawk.'
I sat on a stool, staring fixated at the wooden bar.
"This seat taken?" a rough voice asked. I slowly turned to look at him. He had dark hair, and dark eyes. His hair was shorter than most of the guys I had known, but still attractive. He had broad shoulders, and tan skin. I smiled the first smile in days, it feeling fake and foreign upon my lips. He took this as a yes, and I examined his movements. He seemed confident, and like he had hit on several girls in bars before. This unsettled me, and the thought of him being older, much older, occurred to me.
"You gonna buy me a drink?" I asked, my voice hoarse from not talking in so long.
He chuckled, and eyed me up. I reasoned he was probably trying to guess my exact age, which always had been a problem, for I appeared older. Without removing his gaze, he called, his voice rich in a Boston accent,
"Bartender, two shots of tequila."
"What are you doing on the West Coast?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.
He paused, before saying, "My job involves me traveling. You probably know about this skateboarding phenomenon, right?"
As he said this, the bartender placed two shots, filled to the brim with tequila, in front of us. I took this opportunity to take it, not wanting to respond. He smirked when I didn't flinch.
"Go on."
"Anyways, I write for this magazine, and am supposed to publish an article on them. So I'm headed to this 'Venice Beach' or whatever, where it's supposed to have become a really big thing."
"Are you looking for a certain team?"
"Uh, not a team, moreso some key skaters, or whatever the fuck they're called. I really don't wanna interview some punkass kids."
"I wouldn't either."
"And what brings you here?"
"I grew up… well, I'm originally from here," I lied.
"Never left?"
"Sort of."
Somehow, our conversation continued on with meaningless flirts, and I became more entranced with his accent by the second. After our fourth shot, things were starting to spin, and I was beginning to open up. I caught myself laughing at his comments, and he was now more openly admiring my lips. We would touch each other like we had known each other our whole lives, but had yet to kiss. I learned he grew up in a very Jewish home in Boston, but still could not get an exact age. It didn't matter much to me though. I made up some ridiculous tale about how I grew up in San Francisco, and loved it too much to leave. Somewhere after the sixth shot, we both halted.
"What?" I questioned, a smirk on my lips.
"I just realized I don't even know your name," he stated, gazing at me.
"Kimber," I told him, not bothering to lie. "Yours?"
"Eli," he smiled.
"You wanna get out of here?" I asked coyly. He chuckled, and threw some money on the bar, waving to the bartender, who nodded.
We strolled out of the bar, clumsily, and to his car. I had no idea what it was, but even in the moonlight, it was sleek and shiny.
He unlocked it, and I jumped in the passenger seat. The second he got in the car, a fire erupted in both of us. I don't know if it was because of the lack of human contact, or my drunken foolishness, but I wanted him badly. It was passionate, and insanely rough. For some reason, I found this sexy. When he took off his shirt, I realized I would go crazy over a guy with nice arms.
A little over an hour later, we lay in the backseat of the car, with his arms around me.
"Come with me to Venice," he stated, staring at me. "Then after that, you can come back to Boston with me, and I can quit, and we can just travel. Wouldn't that be nice?"
I laughed, "Eli, you don't even know me."
"I could get to know you," he countered, pecking me on the lips.
"I can't," I sighed, and began moving to put on my clothes. I had slid on my underwear and fastened my bra when he said,
"Why?"
"I have a life, and as of now, no money."
He looked at me sympathetically. "So that's a no?"
"That's a no."
We dressed in silence. When we had finished, I turned my face to him, and kissed him gently.
"Here," he gasped, handing me a wad of money.
"What's this for?"
"Well, you said you're broke, so I figured you'd need a little something."
My eyes widened as I flipped through it. He had handed me 700 dollars.
--
--
In retrospect, he might not have been paying me for the sex, but that's what I saw it as.
That night, I hit up a Dope shop with some of the money.
The next morning, I headed further into San Francisco. After three days of no Hazel, I began to think I had missed her. I was only spending my money on alcohol, weed, and heroin, but was forgetting to eat. Finally, I stopped being so selective with my cash, and entered a small diner one night. I sat down at a booth by myself, and ordered a sandwich. The waitress looked annoyed with me, as though I had caused her harm by sitting down. When she left, my head swarmed with thoughts of Jay, Tony, Kathy, Stacy, Peggy, Alex, my mother, Sid, and Eli. All of their faces were fresh and painful in my mind. I ran my hands through my dirty hair, and glanced in the window.
It was dark outside, so I could see my reflection. My hair was greasy and hung around my face. My eyes seemed bigger, as though they were half of my face, and I barely noticed anything else about me. I disgusted myself. While I was gazing at the window, a face I couldn't distinguish popped up against the glass, making me jump. As quickly as it came, the person left the window, and entered the diner.
It was a young boy, with sun streaked brown hair, and bright green eyes. He hit my table as he passed, and slid into the booth opposite me. I raised my eyebrows at his confidence.
"Yes?"
"Sorry I scared you," he smirked, leaning back in the booth.
At that moment, the young and blond waitress, whom was so annoyed with me, sidled up to the table, throwing down my plate, and smiling at the boy.
"Can I get you anything?" she asked flirtatiously.
"Nah I'm good," he replied, glancing at her, and looking back at me. She rolled her eyes, and stomped away.
I immediately shoved the sandwich into my mouth, chewing loudly.
"What do you want?" I said, the food still in my mouth.
"Your name."
"Kimber," I told him. I inwardly cursed myself at that moment, and stuttered out, "I-I mean… Azure."
"What?"
"Azure."
"No shit, my friend knows an Azure."
"Really?"
"Yep," he grinned, leaning towards me. "My name is Alex."
I nearly choked. My eyes began to water, and my face became red, as I forced the enormous bite I so regretted down my throat. When I finished, I gasped for air. He stared at me, clearly amused.
"What? My name makes you choke up?" he slurred. It was then I realized he had been drinking, for I caught a waft of whiskey.
"No, I just can't handle how much you reek," I snapped. His eyebrows furrowed.
Just then, the diner door opened again. A group of people danced inside, and approached Alex.
"Hey, we wondered where you went," a pretty red haired girl said, sliding in next to him, and pecking him on the cheek.
"Yeah man. We thought you'd been arrested," a raven-haired boy laughed.
"We hoped," a blue-eyed boy, who was slouching, and had a mean face, snickered.
"Azure?" a tinkling voice asked. I couldn't see the source, until she pushed aside the two boys. Her grey eyes were dancing in the light, and my heart skipped a beat.
"Hazel?"
"I knew you would find me," she said, smiling at me, and gracefully sitting down next to me. Her frail body barely made an impact upon the hard plastic of the booth.
"This is Opal," she indicated the red haired girl, who was grinning at me. "Ryvre," she chimed, pointing at the black haired boy, who waved devilishly at me. "Dylan," the hard looking guy tilted his head upward at me. "And you've met Alex."
"Everyone, this is Azure. I've told you about her."
Dylan sat on the opposite booth, and Ryvre slid in next to Hazel, stretching his arm around her.
"Where have you been?" she questioned.
"Around," I sighed, glad to have finally found a familiar face.
"I knew someone would find you. You like her, right Alex?"
"'Course."
"You better not have been flirting with her," Opal growled.
"I wasn't babe."
The blond waitress strode up to the table once again, and handed the check to me. Ryvre intercepted it, and gave the waitress ten dollars, winking at her. Everyone slowly stood, and Hazel tugged lightly on my arm. We walked outside, into the crisp and cold air, to a Volkswagen van.
"Oh, my cars over there," I informed them.
Hazel glanced at Dylan, and sweetly said,
"Will you drive her? I have to tell Alex where to go."
I noticed as she said this, that Ryvre's arm slinked around her tiny waist, and wondered what they were to each other. Dylan looked at me, his icy blue eyes sizing me up, and responded,
"Sure. To the park?"
"Yes." Hazel then freed herself from Ryvre, and whispered in my ear, "Dylan's a little rough, but you'll love him." She then backed away, and disappeared into the van. The van spun out of the lot, with the Beatles blasting.
I led Dylan to my truck, and he hopped in the drivers seat. I slid in the passenger seat, and rested my head. I was fed, had found Hazel, and would scope out a Dope shop later. It had been a successful night.
He started the engine, and 'Corrina, Corrina' immediately began playing.
Corrina, Corrina,
Gal, where you been so long?
Corrina, Corrina, Gal, where you been so long?
I been worr'in' 'bout you, baby,
Baby, please come home.
I got a bird that whistles,
I got a bird that sings.
I got a bird that whistles,
I got a bird that sings.
But I ain' a-got Corrina,
Life don't mean a thing.
Corrina, Corrina,
Gal, you're on my mind.
Corrina, Corrina,
Gal, you're on my mind.
I'mma sittin down thinkin of you, baby,
I just can't keep from crying.
We drove in silence for a while, and I wondered if he was tired, or just didn't want to talk.
"So…" I tried. "Where are you from?"
"New York," he grunted.
"I've never been there."
A moment passed, then he said,
"I was named after Bob Dylan."
I nodded. Suddenly, he chuckled.
"Ah, we've got a copper on our ass. They've got a record on me a mile long. Those bastards." It was the first time I saw him smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. It occurred to me how odd it was that the people in the car and Dylan were close. They appeared so very different. I absorbed his clothes. He was wearing a worn leather jacket, and jeans.
The others had worn clothes embedded with flowers and peace signs.
"Where are you from?" he asked, taking his attention off of the cop that had turned.
"Venice."
"How'd you meet Hazel?"
"In a bar… Lemme ask you a question." I stated, tucking my legs underneath my body, and turning to face him. "What's going on between everyone? Are Opal and Alex together?"
"Yeah, they've been together for a while now."
"And Ryvre and Hazel?"
"They're in love, not together."
"Huh?" I wondered, confused.
"They can leave at any time, but choose to not label their relationship. It's weird, but you'll catch on."
"And you?"
He grinned. "I don't believe in relationships." A second passed, and then, "What about yourself?"
"I believe in fucking."
He laughed.
"What's your poison?"
"Dope."
"Damn, bitch. That's some serious shit."
"Do you know where a shop is? I'm out," I said hurriedly, hoping he wouldn't label me a junkie.
He turned to me and nodded.
"Yours?" I asked him.
"The same."
"Then why'd you tell me it's serious?"
"Because it is. Are you shooting?"
"Nah," I replied. "Are you?"
He didn't respond, and I took it as a yes. I had never injected heroin, and had no desire to. Needles had always been a fear of mine.
"Your lucky, because I have some at the place, so you can use it," he offered. I grinned broadly.
"Thanks."
He set his stare on the road once again, but I couldn't stop talking. "How much farther?"
"Not long."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"Do you have siblings?"
"Do you shut up?"
"Sorry," I apologized. I was a nervous, and overly excited wreck.
We reached the park, and drove around it, to what seemed to be an abandoned neighborhood. We swerved down one street, and at the end of it was a house. On the outside hung a peace sign, and it was a mess. He stopped the car in front of it, and grabbed my duffel from the backseat. I followed him down the sidewalk and into the beaten down commune.
--
Months passed, and I had become a member of the family. They accepted me. I fit in well with Hazel and Opal, and Ryvre and Alex loved me. I figured out their relationships, and appreciated them, for their lack of fighting. The house always reeked of pot, and I was surprised we hadn't been arrested. Many people came in and out of the house, and I always enjoyed their company. There was no responsibility, or call to do anything. They were the most peaceful months of my life.
Dylan was in and out of the house. When I first arrived, he had taken off for three weeks. Then, he returned for a month, and left again. On this certain day, he was at the house.
I awoke to find a shirtless boy in my bed, his light brown hair messy. I climbed out of the sheets, and slid into my sweatpants and a shirt lying on the ground. I wandered into the kitchen, where Opal and Hazel were sitting, smoking a bowl.
"Who was the lucky guy last night?" Opal greeted me.
"Don't remember his name," I grinned, taking a hit.
"Tell her," Hazel urged Opal.
"Dylan's back," she gave in. I blew out a stream of smoke.
"So?" I choked.
"We're all going out for his return," Hazel informed me, standing up and moving to record player.
The boy who was sleeping in my bed suddenly darted from the room, and out the door.
"I didn't pick up a good vibe from him," Hazel said to no one in particular, as Janis Joplin's cover of A Woman Left Lonely began to play.
A woman left lonely will soon grow tired of waiting,
She'll do crazy things, yeah, on lonely occasions.
A simple conversation for the new men now and again,
Makes a touchy situation when a good face come into your head.
And when she gets lonely, she's thinking 'bout her man,
She knows he's taking her for granted, yeah yeah,
Honey, she doesn't understand, no, no, no!
Ryvre and Alex entered the kitchen, accompanied by Dylan. I sat myself down on the floor and leaned my head back, adoring Janis' raspy voice.
Well, the fevers of the night, they burn an unloved woman,
Yeah, those red-hot flames try to push old love aside.
A woman left lonely, she's the victim of her man, yes she is.
When he can't keep up his own way, good Lord,
She's got to do the best that she can, yeah!
A woman left lonely, Lord, that lonely girl,
Lord, Lord, Lord!
As the song drifted off, I positioned myself upon my feet, and walked to the room I slept in. Clothes were strewn about the floor, and I could not decipher which were mine, and which weren't. As I was standing there, three knocks resounded in the room.
"Can I come in?" Dylan asked, leaning on the doorway.
"Yeah, sure."
While he was walking in, he said slyly, "Now I know where I knew you from." He then plopped himself on the bed, crossing his legs.
"Huh?" I wondered.
"You were in skateboard magazine a while back, right?" he growled, his blue eyes glinting.
I turned my face to the ground, and didn't answer.
"I knew it!" he cheered, triumphantly. "Those were hot pictures, babe."
"Ah, fuck that."
--
Hours later, our small group had grown sufficiently, and we were heading down the sidewalk to our favorite club. It was a colorful, psychedelic place, which consistently played good music. Also, they had never carded me, a fact I prided myself on, for I was only sixteen.
Dylan had scored some Heroin, and before leaving he had shot up, and let me do a line. Happily high, I pranced into the club, and allowed many guys to dance with me. After a few beers and four shots, I was a little drunk, and when Girl came on, I squealed. Opal slid her arms around my waist, and we began dancing very rambunctiously, which was rare, and didn't fit with the songs pace.
Dylan came out of nowhere, and smiled,
"Do you mind if I steal her for a second?" The dopey smile on his face told me he was as tipsy as I.
"Not at all," Opal slurred. He took me by the hands, and wrapped them around his neck, as his own arms snaked around my waist.
Is there anybody going to listen to my story,
About the girl who came to stay?
She's the kind of girl you want so much,
It makes you sorry,
Still you don't regret a single day.
A girl.
Girl.
Girl.
"I don't understand you at all. Who are you, Azure?" he slowly said, leaning his forehead against my own.
"I'm no one," I ginned. "Who are you Dylan? I don't even know your last name."
"I don't either," he smirked.
When I think of all the times I've tried so hard to leave her,
She will turn to me and start to cry.
And she promises the earth to me,
And I believe her.
After all this time,
I don't know why.
A girl.
Girl.
Girl.
"Maybe it's best we don't know each other," I purred.
"You wouldn't like the real me."
"I could say the same.
She's the kind of girl who puts you down,
When friends are there,
You feel like a fool.
When you say she's looking good,
She acts as if it's understood.
She's cool, cool, cool, cool.
A girl.
Girl.
Girl.
I stroked his brown hair, and gazed into his icy eyes. They so reminded me of miniscule glaciers floating, with a black hole in the middle.
The bottom half of his face was moving closer to mine, and before I knew it, his soft lips were touching mine, and I was enjoying it.
Was she told when she was young that pain would lead to pleasure?
Did she understand it when they said,
That a man must break his back to earn his day of leisure?
Will she still believe it when he's dead?
A girl.
Girl.
Girl.
We broke apart, and the song ended. We remained standing there, staring into each other's eyes, until I grabbed his hand, and led him out of the club, and back to the commune.
--
When I awoke the next morning, I felt an extreme instance of déjà vu. Toned arms were wrapped around my naked body as golden sunlight poured into the messy room. I immediately thought I was dreaming, and I would spin around to see Jay's sleeping face. Then, all the painful thoughts surged back, and I pushed them to the back of my mind as I climbed out of bed.
Sliding on a floor length skirt and tank top, I glanced at Dylan, and couldn't believe I might have been falling for some one, yet again.
--
--
--
Sorry this one is so short, and took so long! But with school and everything, I've been hard pressed to find time to write.
Review, pretty please!
-lette.