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CHAPTER 42 June 19, 1993 The bride. Black hair unrestrained, lacking her traditional bun, falling down past her shoulder blades. Straight, shining, perfect. No need for a veil, as her hair fell ever so slightly in front of her face, shielding her perfectly lined green eyes, accenting the unusual flush in her cheeks. The dress trailed three feet behind her in the most vibrant crimson sweeping away the petals of dark blue roses that had been scattered down the aisle by a pink grrl moments before. The sleeves fell as low as the train, splitting open at her forearms so they flared with an angelic grace on the way down. The bodice was designed in the style of strict Victorian figures, cutting in as a triangle, then flaring out at the skirt. The entire thing was layers and cascades of silk and chiffon with metallic threads woven through in intricate patterns. She wore no jewellery. The groom. For once, his hair was down, falling in uneven chunks to his chin. It looked perhaps as though it were still a bit damp, maybe a last minute decision to take it down from his usual attempt at mirroring Robert Smith. His eyes were lined thinly in a dark blue that reflected the deep, rich colour of his waistcoat and slacks. He had a white dress shirt on underneath, with all the proper frills and ruffles. His hands were shaking, nails painted hastily in an unaccustomed blue tone. He was swaying on his feet, standing in front and to the side of the person who had been hired to perform the ceremony. This person wasn’t religious and didn’t have to be. The wedding license had been bought and authorized, so the ceremony was completely in the hands of the couple. As a result, standing there in his dark club clothes with the traditional long black hair of most gothlings, barely even 18 years old, was the lead singer of Wasted Assumption, the latest band to be signed onto Beggars. Kim had flipped out the second she heard the name of the band affiliated with her keyboardist’s wedding. Standing beside a fidgeting Chatha, wearing the subdued red dress that Ebony had insisted all her closest grrls must wear, Kim didn’t dare to look at Raine for fear of seeing Elvyn Daray (as though he weren’t pretentious enough, he had to choose a name like that). Her eyes followed Ebony down the aisle, a perfect gothic statuette. “Sh’s s’ beautiful,” Chatha whispered, with a catch to her voice. She had a big pink rose corsage pinned to her red dress, since she didn’t feel right without a single bit of pink. She was the only one Ebony would have given such leeway to. Jessie, standing on the other side of Kim and looking stunning in the simple dress design they were all sharing, simply watched and smiled. Kim couldn’t begin to guess what she was thinking, not with such a faraway look in her gentle brown eyes. The entire hall was filled with goths and the like. Chatha had asked, wide-eyed and shaking with a basket of blue rose petals on one arm, whether or not they had accidently found a funeral while looking for Ebony’s wedding. Kim had just smiled and nudged her forward. Aside from the abundance of people in black (with the odd splash of plaid and a safety pin here and there), the hall was breathtaking. Spanned with silver threads, deep burgundy velvet curtains, with strange paintings and statues guarding the empty spaces on the walls. All the art was brought in by friends of Raine, with some of the pieces even done by his own hand. “For someone who can’t do his own makeup,” Kim had observed, “that boy can really handle a paintbrush.” On Raine’s side, where you would expect a best man at very least, there was only Darius, holding the rings on a small black velvet pillow. Lacking at the reception were not only any close friends of Raine, but also parents to either of the married couple to be. Ebony hadn’t told hers. She hadn’t spoken to them since leaving their strict rules and her pink bedroom behind. No one in the group was even sure if Raine had parents, or if he existed at all outside Ebony’s world and in a few rumoured whispers in the goth underground. Also lacking were the rest of the band. Elke, Heather and Geneveve. Heather hadn’t been invited. The other two hadn’t been expected. Ebony was now standing at Raine’s side, a perfect flush of red running up her cheeks. Raine was staring at her like he’d never seen her before, his breath catching, awed. His hand had found hers, blue nail polish against red. Green eyes locked, staring past long thick black lashes. Elvyn’s voice broke into the intense serenity. “Shall we begin?” Ebony dropped her head, hair falling in front of her eyes. Raine kept watching for a moment before starting and glancing at the boy in front of them. He nodded his assent, sneaking another look back at his bride. Clearing his throat, Elvyn leaned forward, looking just pompous enough to really be an 18-year-old gothling who got to perform this celebrity wedding ceremony. “On a warm spring’s night,” he said, his voice overflowing with melodrama, “would you, Ebony Darkness, offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?” On the side, Kim had her hand over Chatha’s mouth so she wouldn’t squeal in delight at her idea being used. At the front of the hall, Ebony, still holding Raine’s hand, murmured the words: “Will he offer me his mouth?” Raine swallowed, his voice barely audible. “Yes.” “Will he offer me his teeth?” She gripped his hand tighter, nails indenting but not breaking his skin. “Yes.” His voice had gained a bit of strength. “Will he offer me his jaws?” “Yes.” “Will he offer me his hunger?” “Yes.” “Again, will he offer me his hunger?” “Yes.” He almost gasped it out, staring into her eyes, caught. “And will he starve without me?” “Yes.” “And does he love me?” “Yes. Oh god... God, yes.” There were tears in Ebony’s eyes that she blinked back. Elvyn, perhaps a bit shocked by the display of emotions from the couple in front of him, was talking again. “On a warm spring’s night, would you, Raine, offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?” “Will she offer me...” Raine faltered, then started again, his voice warm and secret. “Will she offer me her mouth?” “Yes,” she breathed. “Will she offer me her teeth?” He pulled her hand up, so it was nearly at his mouth. His words whispered breath against her fingers. She shivered. “Yes.” “Will she offer me her...” He narrowed his eyes, moving in closer. “Hunger?” “Yes.” “Again.” His voice was insistent, demanding. His fingers were intertwined with hers, nails red then blue then red then blue, down the line, meeting at their sleeves. Red then blue. “Will she offer me her hunger?” “Yes.” She was leaning into him, almost falling into him. “And will she starve without me?” “Yes.” “And does she love me?” Her voice finally broke. “Yes,” she managed to get out. “On a warm spring’s night,” Elvyn was saying, barely heard by any of the onlookers, who were all unable to look away from the couple who stood so close together, “would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?” Ebony, so close that she wasn’t able to look up into Raine’s eyes, whispered: “I do.” Raine, gazing down at her with a look so tender it shouldn’t have been possible out of a goth, whispered in return: “I do.” “Then you’re ready,” proclaimed Elvyn with the flourish he must have been waiting all night to get to. “The rings?” Nothing happened for a moment. Darius was staring in wide-eyed wonder at the goth couple beside him. It took Elvyn repeating “the rings?” to snap him out of it. He thrust the pillow forward, jostling the rings a bit. He was now looking past the couple, over at Chatha with her subtly red dress and garishly pink corsage, tears running down her face, holding onto Kim’s arm like she could never let go. She saw Darius watching her, and she smiled through her tears, truly happy. Raine drew back from Ebony enough to pick up the first of the offered rings. It was a simple Celtic ring, silver and subtle. “Silver. The moon. This ring, eternity. Our love, forever.” Her breath caught and tears ran openly down her cheeks. With a shaking hand, she picked the other ring up off the black velvet pillow. Identical to hers, only gold. “Gold. The sun. This ring, eternity. Our love, forever.” “And so the deed is done,” Elvyn proclaimed, “seal your love forever with a kiss.” Ebony and Raine were lost in each other before he even finished talking, the red then blue of their separate outfits seeming to press and blend together, a dark and royal purple, binds of silver and gold, twisted and twined together. Kim, hugging Chatha close to her and leaning her head back against Jessie, sighed in contentment. “Y’know, that would have been a bloody impressive show if they had restricted Elvyn to quoting Steinman, nothing more.” *** Wasted Assumption had played a few sets, drifting from the stage to the dance floor and back again, alternating with an unheard of goth act that didn’t deserve to have been heard of anyway. There were whispered rumours that the lead singer of that poor little band was Raine’s brother. Most of the rumours were met with laughter. Raine, after all, had no parents, how could he have a brother? “I find it funny,” Kim was saying to Jessie across a black-laiden table, a silver candlestick halfway blocking her view, “that people are feeding off all these rumors about Raine. No parents, huh? Then what is he, one of the Endless? He’s too bloody mopey even to be Dream!” Jessie looked at her funny. “Oh, go out and read some Neil Gaiman, Miss America. Sure, he’s a Brit, but he’s published through your kind. I’m talking about Sandman.” She picked up her glass of champagne, considering the liquid that swirled in the bottom when she moved it. “I bloody well hate alcohol.” “Then don’t drink.” “With this band playing? How can I not?” Chatha had found her way to the table where Wasted Assumption was resting. Well, all but one of them; the drum box wasn’t the right size or shape to be taking up space on one of the chairs. “S’ who’re you? Ah’m Chatha, th’ flow’r grrl, though y’know, ah’m t’ old t’ really be a flow’r grrl, bu’ Eb’ said ah coul’ an’ if sh’ said ah coul’ then ah can!” Elvyn Daray, who had been fixing his makeup with the help of the silver side of a CD, glanced at his bandmates in confusion before looking at her. “What was that, little girl?” “Li’l girl?” Her eyes shot wide open and she stamped her feet on the ground, jostling the very pink corsage enough so that it almost fell off. “Li’l girl?! Ah’m no’ li’l! Ah’m older’n any o’ you! Sure ah’m th’ youngest o’ m’ band, bu’ th’ oldest o’ yers is still a year younger’n me! Wha’, is i’ ‘cause ah’m shor’? ‘Cause ah can’ ‘elp tha’, an’ i’s no’ fair t’ judge b’ tha’!” “I pray thee, m’lady, still thy tongue.” The boy to Elvyn’s right, the synth player wearing froofy medieval clothes, bowed deeply. “I have been called by the name Acwellen Bairde. May I inquire into thine own?” Chatha blinked. She blinked again. When she blinked yet again and he was still caught in that deep bow, his hand held out in front of him, she didn’t know what to do. “Uh, well...” She shook his hand, knowing that wasn’t right, but not knowing what else she could do. “Well, ah’m Chatha. No’ really, bu’ tha’s wha’ ah’ve been fer a few years nah, an’ y’know, i’s Chatha Darling, ‘cause well...” He straightened, tugging at his frilly cuffs so they fell back into their proper places. “I can see truly how darling thou art. Come, forgive thee my brash friend, sit with us.” Chatha looked back over her shoulder, where she had left Ebony and Raine sitting as close to in each other’s laps as they could be without sitting in the same chair, wishing she hadn’t left that little bit of sanity behind. Kim had warned her she would have to learn up on goths before going to any get-together having to do with Ebony or Raine (especially both!), but it wasn’t the whole goth thing that was bothering Chatha. She wasn’t sure if Aqua-whatever was even human or not. She sat down carefully, trying not to giggle when she settled into the squooshy velvet cushion on the chair. “S’ who’re you?” she asked the other member of the band. This one was the bass guitarist. Elvyn, even though he couldn’t, played lead guitar while he sang. The bass guitarist, unlike the purist gothling Elvyn and the scary medieval sophisti-goth Acwellen, was just wearing a lot of black and spikes and leather, with the edge of a tattoo visible on his neck and two piercings in one of his eyebrows. “Name’s Xavier Holt.” “Ah know i’s mean t’ ask, bu’...” She was still staring at them with wide, wide eyes. “Did yer ‘rents do drugs?” “Nah, it wasn’t our parents that did ‘em.” Xavier smiled. “Don’t pay any attention to these two. They’re feeling rather self-important right now. First big gig we’ve played. For Raine’s wedding, no less.” “Ah though’ i’ was a fun’ral when ah firs’ came in... Though’ w’ came t’ th’ wrong hall! Bu’ then Kim, sh’s the pretty redhead back there, sh’ jus’ smiled an’ pushed m’ in t’ pu’ down th’ rose petals, an’ Eb left rose thorns in wi’ th’ mix, said ah was s’pposed t’ scatter those too, bu’ ah di’n’t, ‘cause y’know, wha’ if they caugh’ her dress or somethin’? So the baske’s all full o’ thorns an’ nothin’ else nah, bu’ ah was careful’n di’n’t cu’ myself a’ all, so no’ like there’s any blood in i’ or anythin’, jus’ a lo’ o’ thorns from deep blue roses, so ah kinda’ figured tha’ maybe ah’d give th’ baske’ t’ Raine’r somethin’, see if he needs any rose thorns, though ah don’ think ah wanna’ know ‘xactly wha’ Raine’n Eb’d do wi’ rose thorns, we’ve go’ a nice li’l don’ ask don’ tell goin’ on, so i’ doe’n’t ma’er much wha’ ah give’m tha’ they could do bad stuff wi’...” Elvyn was on his feet, shaking his head. “I don’t think she breathed once in that whole thing, I’m heading off.” “Wouldst thou abandon the lady before offering her a drink?” Acwellen tsk tsked, shaking his head. “Oh, ah’ve awrea’y ‘ad qui’ a bi’ t’ drink, since ah’m legal’n ahl, y’know, may as well go fer i’. Been drinkin’ since ah was 16, ‘course, an’ able t’ hold i’, e’en if i’ weren’t legal then, bu’ e’eryone from th’ band ah think’s been drinkin’ since ‘least 16.” “Band?” That was Xavier. “Yeh! Th’ Sextet!” She giggled. “Kim’s righ’... Tha’ is kinda’ funny when yer no’ all yerself... Sextet!” She laughed again, rather amused with herself. “Sextet, sexte’, sexte’, sextet!” “As in Kim Kissably and the Red Lips--” “Sextet!” Elvyn glanced passed Chatha, to the table where Ebony and Raine were sitting. At a table beside that, even though these tables were suited for about eight more people than they were sitting, Kim Kissably and Jessie Founders were talking. “Didn’t recognize you for all the lack of pink, I’m sorry.” He narrowed his eyes, watching Kim. “She was at one of my shows, I think. Long ago. Right at the front. I never forget such a beautiful woman...” Chatha shook her head vehemently. “Nah, sh’s no’ doin’ guys righ’ now, sorry, gotta’ wai’ few more years, sh’ll prob’ly phase back, bu’ i’s really jus’ a lost cause righ’ nah.” Not listening to the pink grrl, Elvyn abandoned the rest of his band to her. He worked his way across the floor, not even making eye contact with the rabble around him. He would have to ask Raine whether or not it was necessary to have all these followers and wannabes under the same roof, even for an occasion as important as this. He passed the table with Ebony and Raine, nodding to them politely but not stopping because an older man in a business suit was now talking to them. He’d seen him around the offices at Beggars, but was sure he couldn’t be anyone important. On to the table where Kim was talking with Jess, and he stopped, waiting for the rebel grrl to acknowledge him. It was practically instantaneous. She glanced up and saw the old man at the married couple’s table, then saw Elvyn standing across the table from her. She gave Jessie a look (one that was lost on the poor little gothling) and pushed away from the table. “So... Elvyn, is it? You met James Carroway yet?” “Oh... No. No, I keep hearing about him, and especially about this band he used to be in... He was supposed to have been amazing, a true artist in his time. What was the band, Torture Town? Never signed, but there are enough live boots to keep the memory alive.” Kim blinked, holding herself back from saying everything she really wanted to say, starting with “you ruined my life, you posing little arsehole, why did you have to have played that club that night? Why?” Instead, she made a face, looking off at Carroway, wondering how Elvyn couldn’t figure out that was him. “You know,” she said, “Carroway once asked me if all artists were goth.” Elvyn definitely liked that idea. He had perked up remarkably, daring now to stand much closer to her, nearly touching her. “Yeah? And what brought that on?” “Oh, I was talking about the only things with pricks I’ve ever respected. Ones that ascended prickdom and actually became, in my mind, men.” She looked away from Carroway, focusing on Elvyn and his pretty little makeuped face, with the exactly right placement and amounts of black eyeliner and pale purple blush and black lipstick. “Steve Severin. Peter Murphy. Andrew Eldritch. Danny Elfman. Tim Burton. Robert Smith.” “Those are all such big names. Don’t you respect anyone smaller on the scene? Don’t you see any of the new leads as men?” “Severin was a lead?” Kim smiled slightly, noting to herself that he kept his hair in better condition than she kept hers. “Or Burton, for that matter?” “You know what I mean, dear Kissably.” “My, aren’t we being rather familiar, Mr. Daray?” “Please, call me Elvyn.” In an attempt to keep herself from snorting, she began walking toward Ebony and Raine’s table. “Do you want to meet the infamous Carroway?” “Of course!” He followed her. The look on his face when he realized just who James Carroway was was almost enough to send Kim into a laughing fit that could have lasted for hours, but Carroway put his hand on her arm, understanding fully what had been going on. “Elvyn Daray, is it? Lead of Wasted Assumption?” “Yes, sir. It’s an honour, sir.” “I don’t often get out and meet the new ones, so it’s fortunate for you to have been playing at this wedding. You’re certainly off from the style that I’m used to, but then, so is Kim. I’m all for new music. Someone once told me your band sounds like Martin Gore held at gunpoint by Nick Cave, and I must say, she wasn’t that far off.” Kim smiled. “Is it true that you’re the one who went out and found Kim Kissably and her grrls? I’ve heard stories all over the place.” “Yes, I found them and signed them on the spot. Of course, they’re a rather vicious pack, and didn’t believe I really was from Beggars.” “And the little sot lied and said he was only a scout or some such utter bullshit. Being the arsehole that he is, of course he had to end up being high up in the company, huh?” Kim made a face, getting impatient. “Ebony, Raine, may you have many a happy year and give birth to a new breed of über-goths. I’ll see you after the honey moon, I would suppose, and on the American tour?” “Leaving so soon?” Ebony looked at Elvyn, obviously unimpressed with the choice. “Maybe. Just in case. I’ll swing by the say goodbye to Jess if I am, though, so no worries.” She then let Elvyn lead her past the tables, all the way up to the stage. The other band was still playing, but there was something in the far corner that they had nothing to do with. “Meet Aislinn.” Elvyn spread his hands, gesturing grandly at the drum machine. Kim felt something inside her wrench as she stared at it, suddenly very angry. Why the bloody hell was this boy-goth band so important that they got a drum machine, and she couldn’t? She was stuck, weighed down with “th’ bog monstah”, and these newly signed little arsewipes had a bloody drum machine? “Why Aislinn?” She kept her voice level. “It means a vision or dream. If, one day, we ever do have a real drummer, it will be a girl. And she has to be a vision or a dream.” “Hmph, then so much for my idea of trading drum box for drummer.” “Do you play the drums, Kim?” She took in a deep breath, telling herself not to lash out as she felt his hand on her shoulder. She held that breath in, counted to ten, feeling herself shake. She knew he was misinterpreting. She was letting him, too. “Why?” “Because...” He leaned in closer. “You’re a dream.” With her eyes closed, the hand could be Jessie’s and the voice could be anyone’s. It had been a rather long time since last she gave in to these urges. After all, every once in a while, a grrl just had to be filled... Right? And with something like Elvyn, there would be no regret about never talking to him again. After. “Well, the box itself is a dream.” She put her hand over his, letting her nails brush his skin ever so slightly. “I’ve always wanted a drum box. Aislinn... A beautiful name.” “No more beautiful than Kimberly.” “Elvyn...” She turned to look at him, putting more heat into her eyes than she was really feeling. “Wait for me here, luv, I have to say goodbye to a friend before I can bugger off.” “And do you mean that literally?” “Dear boy, unless you like strap-ons, don’t get any such ideas. Wait for me?” “Always.” Kim ducked back into the crowd, practically running to Jessie’s table. Jessie didn’t look at her. In fact, she didn’t even seem to acknowledge she saw her until she spoke. “He’s only 18.” “Jess... Jessie-grrl, Jess-babe, luv, please... Sure, he’s a plastic mould remake of every other properly gothic thing to have ever come before, a recreation of a recreation of an abomination, but Jess... Please, just one night; if he’s trash, I don’t ever have to feel guilty...” “There’s an entire room full of guys and girls, Ms. Kissably, if you’re really that desperate to get laid.” “If I only wanted to get laid, you know where I would turn, Jess...” She closed her eyes. “Maybe.” “Just... Sometimes... I need something that means nothing. I don’t know why. I... I don’t know why, Jess, I’m sorry, I wish I could learn to control myself or something, but Jess... Jess-luv, Jessica, baby...” “You never call me that.” “Which?” “Jessica. Or baby.” She dropped her voice on that word. “Jessie... Luv, I’d die rather disappointed if I had never had sex with a boy wearin’ eyeliner, you know.” “You can put eyeliner on anything male.” “He’s the easiest tossabout I could ever go after! A quick fix, then gone. Maybe he’ll give me his drum machine... I wouldn’t be cruel enough t’ give him Heather, though.” “You hate him. I could tell the moment you saw him.” “I know.” “And you’re not telling me everything.” Kim sighed, lowering herself into the seat beside Jessie. “Jess... The night Gwen and I started going together, we were out clubbing at The Boulder. There was this little boy-goth band, a bunch of scrawny little teenagers wearing too much black and makeup for their own health. Wasted Assumption. Screaming about the underworld and a fear of being buried alive with big words to make themselves feel important. That was Wasted Assumption then. It was Elvyn Daray, up on that stage, only feet away from where I drank myself into Gwen’s life. I can’t go back and fuck her up, Jessie... But I can fuck him.” “Don’t you mean fuck him up?” “By fucking him. I’ll be back. He’ll be one night. Never again.” Jessie put her head in her hands. “Use protection, Ms. Kissably.” “I always do, luv.” She got out of her chair, walking over to Jessie. “I’m almost too careful, you should know that.” Getting no response, she bent down and kissed Jessie’s cheek. “Make it up to you tomorrow night? Please?” Jessie just sighed. “You can teach me about how to succumb. We can use more than just the ribbons...” She knelt beside Jess, determined not the budge until she got an answer. “Name the toy, and I can bring it? Tame the wild Kim Kissably, keep her in her place. C’mon, luv... Teach me to succumb. Tomorrow night. You’ll regret it forever if you turn me away.” “Awright,” Jessie murmured. “Attagirl.” Kim got up and left, looking back as many as ten times before finding her way to the stage again. Elvyn was standing there, talking excitedly to his synth-player, Acwellen. “--heard that she actually does have some of those toys she--” “’Tis high time that I get around to gathering our things, dost thou not think?” Elvyn looked up, confused, and spotted Kim. He nodded his thanks to his friend for saving his arse then walked over to her. “Did you have anything special in mind?” “Did you know that I met Eldritch?” He blinked. “Performed with him. You ever heard Ribbons? Of course you’ve heard Ribbons. Every goth owns Vision Thing, don’t they? Eldritch calls goths darklings, you know. I never knew that when I wrote Darkling Asking... I wonder if a goth can be nearly as passionate as the darkling I was talking about. Make love worth dying over?” Elvyn opened his mouth to let free another one of his self-important comments, but Kim shushed him. “I fucked Eldritch, you know. After he defeated me. With Ribbons.” She offered him her arm. “Shall we?” *** “Anyway, yeh, s’there’s this ‘ole ‘uge thin’ goin’ on wi’ Elke seein’ thin’s tha’ there ain’t n’one else seein’, righ’? So she’s there swingin’ and swingin’ an’ swingin’ an’.... An’ swingin’, ah mean swingin’ ‘er guitar ahl aroun’, an’ then i’s jus’ BAM! an’ down comes this ligh’ tha’ was righ’ above th’ audience, an’ sh’s screamin’ and screamin’ an’ i’s all ‘bou’ spidehs tha’ no one bu’ ‘er’s been seein’, an’ Kim, sh’ ge’s up there an’ starts talkin’ abou’ jus’ ‘ow useless spidehs are ‘cause th’can’ cry! Tha’s righ, spiders can’ cry... No’ like us, w’ can cry, righ’? W’ can cry. I was ahl cryin’ when th’ said their vows, an’ i’ was s’ beautiful, all th’... Well, y’know, how they.... Their... Th’love each othe’! I’s really ahl swee’ an’ ahl an’ everythin’ an’--” A dark form reached down and plucked the champagne glass from her hand. Chatha turned away from Xavier, who was quite contented to listen to the drunk little pink grrl, and saw Raine, with Ebony standing so close that she was almost on top of him. “Oh, hi, ah was jus’ tellin’ ‘im ‘ere, this guy ‘ere, ‘es Zavier or...somethin’, well ah was tellin’ ‘im ‘ow ah was... Ah was cryin’ fer you two! ‘Cause it’s so... ‘Cause you’re so... Well, you... So nice. Y’ really do... Y’know.” She nodded, her whole body moving with the motion. Raine held back a smile. He caught Xavier’s gaze. “Promise you won’t let her drink anymore? She does have a boyfriend, too, so don’t get any ideas.” “Bu’ ‘e sai’ ah coul’... Wi’ othe’ guys! Ah coul’ wi’ othe’ guys, y’know, and...” “Darling Chatha, not when you’re this drunk.” Ebony brushed at a whole chunk of pink hair that had inadvertently fallen in front of the pink grrl’s eyes. “Promise me?” “Bu’ Eb...” “Promise?” “No guys t’night, no’ when ah’m this drunk, awright, bu’ tomorrah? Can ah ‘ave ‘is numbeh?” “That’s something best left to ask him.” “Oh yeah, righ’! Righ’.” She turned back to Xavier, giggling. Ebony leaned back into Raine, more than content in just feeling him for a moment, then they headed back to their table. They would be leaving soon, unable to stand the crowds much longer. “I never did figure out who invited all these people,” Ebony whispered to Raine. He shrugged. “I never did figure out how just two of us could know so many people.” When they resumed their places at their table, Jessie pulled up a chair across from them. She looked upset. “Ebony, don’t let me bother you or anything...” “Feel free to talk.” Jessie put her elbows on the table, staring at a place between them. “Kim left with Elvyn.” “You must have known she would the second she took him to meet Carroway. She doesn’t show off her own personal company executive to just anyone.” “But she hates him. And she’s doing it to get back at Gwen, but Gwen isn’t an issue anymore... I don’t understand.” “You sound like you’ve been embibing things that won’t help your understanding any.” Ebony leaned forward, but not so far that she would lose her contact with Raine. “I thought you didn’t drink.” “She’s fucking Elvyn to get back at Gwen, who she hasn’t seen in at least, at least a year, and if she has... Jesus, if she has...” “You’re making it about yourself.” It wasn’t a question. With Ebony, it couldn’t ever be a question. “Hell fucking yes, I’m making it about myself. Why shouldn’t I? We--” “Are something that doesn’t exist so far as the band is concerned. You’ll regret it if you say it out loud, Jessie, and you won’t ever forgive me for letting you.” “How come you always seem to know so much, huh? You never speak, and then when you do, you’re all wise-woman-knows-all, same with your boyfrie-- ... husband.” Jessie shook her head, feeling the dizziness of that action over and over again when she was done. “I never see either of you actually do anything, how do you know anything?” “It comes from observations, Jessie. If you watch quietly for long enough, you start picking up on how people act and react.” “So you hafta be a cold bitch to be as smart as you think you are?” Ebony sighed, shaking her head. Raine put his hand over hers, their fingers twined together. Red and blue, silver and gold. “You don’t have to be cold at all,” he said. “You just have to learn how to watch and listen.” “I don’t know if I want to watch or listen, I just want to understand... Her. No one else, just her. Why do I let her? Why don’t I tell her that she’s not coming back next time she does this?” “Because you know you’ll want her back, no matter what she does.” Ebony glanced up at the stage, where the two remaining members of Wasted Assumption and their drum machine were deciding what to do without their lead. Chatha kept circling around Xavier. “That’s just because... When she isn’t so flighty, she’s... Kim can be...” “I know.” Ebony nodded, smiling slightly. “I know. We all feel that way. I think everyone in the group, with the exception of the bog monster and our resident stoner, feels some sort of love for Kim. And I also think we would all be quite content to strangle her.” “Not Chatha. Chatha’s all love.” “She’s all love for everyone. I’m sure if you went up and asked her now, she would tell you she’s in love with Xavier. And Darius. And whatever cute boy just passed her down the hall, and all her friends, especially the band. She doesn’t have time to be judging Kim’s indiscretions, elsewise she could miss as the world kept turning around her.” “I know Kim loves her. She’s so overprotective... Since she let her guard down, she would never let Chatha be hurt again. She’s always letting Chatha hang off her, bounce around her, fill her life...” Jessie blinked, dropping her head so she couldn’t see the pink grrl anymore. “And you think Kim only loves her?” “How should I know what she feels? She can’t ever say what’s really inside her. She’s afraid people will find out she’s harboring a human being under all those images of hers... Poor little Ms. Kissably...” “How much have you had to drink, luv?” “Less than Chatha.” “I think there’s still a limit somewhere in there. Raine and I were thinking of heading back to the apartment soon. Do you want to catch a ride?” “I still find it funny you aren’t heading straight out to some hotel to make wild, loud passionate goth love, you know. Just going home.” “Does it matter where we are? I don’t think you’ll be seeing much of us for the next two weeks, and that’s about all that matters.” Ebony stood up, actually smiling. She extended her hand, though only after freeing it from Raine’s. “Coming?” But Jessie was staring past Ebony, at the stage. Acwellen stood at the synthesizer, Xavier was posed in front of a mic with his bass strapped across his shoulder, and Chatha Darling was standing at the other mic, so flushed that her skin almost matched her hair. “Awright, e’eryone! Ah’m gonna’ be doin’ goth songs!” The entire place went quiet as everyone stared in horror and curiosity. Most any other time she got this much attention on stage, Chatha would have shrank back, but she just grinned and giggled. “These ‘ere are Wasted Assmunches! ... Assump-tons! ... Asymptotes? Tha’s a math thing ah learned once... Nah, nah, nah, these ‘ere are Wasted Ass... Uh, Chatha Darlin’ an’ th’ Wasted Asses!” Xavier was too busy laughing to correct her, and Acwellen had his head bowed in hopes that no one would recognize him, even though his band had been up there half the night on and off already. “S’ah’m gonna’ be makin’ goth songs, jus’ off th’ top o’ m’ead, awright? So yeh, band, play away!” Xavier started up a very simple bass-line that Acwellen was able to take off from within moments. Chatha stood staring at her microphone for a while before spotting her corsage and getting an idea. She unpinned it and tossed it into the crowd. “Down wi’ th’ flow’r! Death, destruction, damnation, an’ an’...an’...an’ othe’ d-words! Dreams an’ visions an’ drum machines! Drum machines!” Raine and Ebony were now both laughing, and Jessie was covering her face. “She could get into performance art in the states and make quite a bit of money,” Jessie muttered. “Unlik-eh-ly, unknown an’ depthless, and other thin’s endin’ wi’ d-words! More d-words! Drum machines! An’ we live in a worl’ full o’ bog monstahs an’ dragons an’ th’ knights in shinin’ armor so few an’ far between. Th’ fairy tales don’ come true, an’ we’re all waitin’ an’ waitin’ fer... Thin’s endin’ in d-words! Drum machines!” “I think this is why Kim writes our songs.” Jessie was laughing now too. “An’ this is a goth-song-rant thin’, so ah’ve gotta’ say more goth-song-rant thin’s, make i’ properly like th’ bad goth poetry Raine kept complainin’ ‘bout Elf-boy writin’! So... I await my...demise! Demise wi’ open arms, an’... Stuff abou’ death an’ other d-words... The world is s’ dreary! I’s all dreary! Dreary, dreary, dead an’ stuffy, an’ thin’s endin’ with d-words! Drum machines! Bu’ tha’ di’n’t end wi’ a d-word... Bu’ i’ doe’n’t matte’! Does i’? Uh...” She faltered, looking over at Xavier. The bass-line had changed, and that confused her. “Ah’m runnin’ outta’ m’own words...” “Can we go now?” Jessie felt like the entire crowd was torn between staring at Chatha up on stage or her two bandmates standing near their table. “Awright, s’ ah have one more thin’ t’ say an’ i’s no’ mine bu’ ah can say i’ ‘cause ah’m th’ one a’ th’ mic an’ Kim can say anythin’ when sh’s a’ th’ mic, s’ah can say this, ‘cause ah’m sayin’ i’ anyway, s’they’re no’ my words, bu’ they feel righ’!” She took a deep breath. “I am the walrus!” Her voice rang out. Xavier had stopped playing, laughing too hard to continue anyway. “You are the walrus! We are the eggmen! Goo goo kachoo! ... Or wha’ever...” She stumbled back from the mic, tripping over herself and landing on her butt on the stage. Xavier went to her side, and Darius came out from the crowd. Together, they helped her to her feet. “Oh, Darius, this is Xavier. Ah was wonderin’ if sometime w’ could ahl do somethin’ togethe’, y’know, if either o’y’ like th’ though o’ three--” Acwellen, far too sophisticated to be near such talk, abruptly left the stage. Xavier laughed again, and he introduced himself to Darius. “Ah figured ah coul’ take Zavier wi’ me t’ th’ States, since you don’ wanna’ go? ‘E’s cool, e’s go’ piercings too, y’know? Dar, maybe y’ shoul’ ge’ a tattoo...” Back at the tables, Ebony sighed contentedly. “I think we can go now. Though I think you may want to warn Kim when next you see her that there might be a pet goth-boy on our American tour.” *** Between the sheets, with no props and definitely no excitement, Kim was already bored with Elvyn. She usually at least got a good lay out of the throwaways she picked up, but this boy had neither the proper talk nor action. “Aislinn’s a beautiful name,” she found herself saying in the middle of it. Elvyn met her eyes for the first time, more than a bit confused, but he didn’t stop. “I’ve always wanted a drum machine. Think it’s better than a person could ever be. Don’t you agree?” His only response was a grunt. Kim sighed and closed her eyes, glad this was the last time she would ever have to see him.This
chapter includes a variation on Jim Steinman's immortal wolf/rose dialogue,
which has appeared in three incarnations, and is borrowed from...more or less,
all three of them. I don't know what to say for copyright, just acknowledge it's
his. |
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Talk to LL,
the author. |