CHAPTER 49

“Ah, Seattle.” Kim stretched her arms over her head, looking around. The show was going to be in a few hours, so she was killing the time with Dave. She had invited Jessie along, but apparently the bassist still had some practicing to do.

            Dave shook his head, laughing. “We’re not even in Washington.”

            “Hm?”

            “Wrong city. The S part was right, though.”

            Kim stopped, looked around, then narrowed her eyes. “Damn bloody American thinks he knows so bloody well. Okay, Mr. Geographer, which one of your too-many cities are we in?”

            “I didn’t keep you up that late last night, did I?”

            She made a face. “Didn’t sleep last night.”

            “But you left at three or something.”

            “Oh, entirely Jess’s fault.”

            “Oh.” Dave took a breath, really not sure if he should press that point, so he changed the subject. “Anyway, this here is Frisco, r’member?”

            “Ah yes. The place of the stupid nickname. Your bloody country is too big, you know. It’s a hazard to the brain. Who the bloody hell needs fifty states, anyway?”

            “How many colonies does Britain have?”

            Kim narrowed her eyes at him, then turned the other way and started walking. He did his best to hide a smile as he came up behind her and took her shoulder. She started laughing, shoved him back with her elbow. “Bloody well let me be pissy.”

            “Now see, if I just let you walk off, you’re not going to have your handy little American to help you find your way.”

            “Yeh, as if you know this city any better than I do. From what I’ve heard, Americans know dick all about their own geography.”

            “You’re the one who complained the country was so big.”

            “Is that the point? No.” She stopped, staring at a store in front of her. The sign proclaimed “Stormy Leather,” and there was a punk plaid sleeveless red dress resembling one Kim had worn in a photo shoot before in the window.

            Grabbing Dave’s arm, she sped into the store. It wasn’t lit as well as it could have been, and it wasn’t the biggest store she had ever been in, but there were racks and racks and racks of relatively expensive underground clothing for every fashionably freakish mood she had ever had.

            She ran to the counter, where a goth grrl wearing a gray pin-striped business-slut skirt and vest stood. “This has got to be the most truly awesome store I’ve ever entered!”

            “And you have to be British.”

            Kim grinned. “Amazing guess. Wait, you don’t know me?”

            “Should I?”

            Kim spun around and grabbed Dave’s hands. “Yes! Pure bliss! A store so very underground that my name must be mainstream! Do you know what that means?”

            “That you just called yourself mainstream?”

            Kim dropped his hands, looking offended. “Bugger off. I’ve got clothes to buy.”

            “I don’t understand why, considering you’ve been schoolgrrl up on that stage since you performed with Eldritch.”

            “Someone’s been doing ‘is homework.” Kim shot a glance at him over her shoulder before stopping in front of a rack of scarce vinyl things. She weighed the consequences, most being death by the hands of Elke, before shrugging and flipping through. “And for your information, I don’t walk around nude when not on stage. As should be evidenced right bloody now.”

            Her breath caught and she took down a hanger. The hanger itself was probably made of more material than what it held, which was a black vinyl bikini. The two pieces were held together with one of those plastic threads usually used to hold on price tags. On top of being black, shiny, and scarce, the bikini also had several O-rings inserted to show even more skin, with stainless steel chains hanging from them. Kim gaped, doing her best to imagine this piece on herself and not someone else (she had always wondered if she could bring out Jessie’s wild side...). “Dave!”

            He was standing quietly behind her. He, also, was struck by what she was holding. Unlike her, though, he was probably having a far easier time imagining what she looked like in it.

            She smiled slowly, her finger tracing one of the O-rings. “I told myself that I’d get into a skin mag if I ever went to America. It was one of those things you do... You think it’s a sarcastic ‘oh yeah, if I ever go to the States, I’ll bloody well pose nude, too,’ but then you find yourself in the States... With a store full of clothes to strip out of in front of the camera.” Her smile turned into a grin. “Take this up to the counter, would you? And tell th’ grrl up there that I’m going to need another female’s advice, since I know I’m only going to get incoherent babbles out of you from here on in.”

            Dave tried to protest, but he looked at the bikini as he was taking it from her and knew she was right. “If you try on any knee-high boots, can I at least do them up for you?”

            “Hm...” Kim narrowed her eyes. “Maybe if I find any nice thigh-highs, I’ll ask for help. Though last time I had a guy kneeling in front of my boots, he was licking them clean for me.” Her smile was now one of the cruel ones she usually saved for the stage. “Run along, then.”

            She drifted over to another rack, which was probably the only one with cotton in the store. A bunch of black t-shirts, baby doll shirts, and tank tops with rude sayings written across them in white. She stopped to admire one that said “I fucked your girlfriend!”

            Behind her, a voice was saying: “That tends to turn the men on more than piss them off.”

            “Yeh, lesbian chic and all.” Kim turned to look at the goth grrl from behind the counter. “I suppose you have a name?”

            “Most people do, I guess.”

            “I’m Kim.”

            “Ivory.”

            Kim smirked. “Any chance you have a real name?”

            Ivory showed her teeth. It might have been a smile. “I was born with a different one, but Ivory’s now legal.”

            “You’d get along with Ebony.” Kim found herself laughing. “Ebony and Ivory.”

            “Ebony...” Ivory’s eyes flaired open. “You’re Kim Kissably.”

            “Damn, I knew this place wasn’t underground enough...”

            “Want to see underground?” Ivory, without hesitation, took Kim’s hand and led her to the back of the store. Kim gasped, staring at a subway poster of Ebony and Raine, both dressed in immaculate gothickry that Kim recognized as Ebony’s own work. It was all black velvet and lace, with burgundy leather cords and silver eyelets. Ebony was standing at an angle, looking up at Raine with a sly half-smile, her hair cascading to where her dress met in an Elizabethan bustle in the back. Her green eyes shone up at his. He had his hand under her chin, the backs of his fingers touching her neck and the plain band of leather she wore around it. They were the sexiest, most perfect couple ever. Kim couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

            “This,” said Ivory in a trembling voice, “is where we keep them.” She gestured to the rack beside the poster.

            Kim stepped forward, barely believing as her hand reached out to touch a dress that Jessie had worn in a photo shoot they had done for Ebony and her fledgling company. “Angelic Darkness,” she said. “But this is the States.”

            “How very observant of you.”

            “And you have...” Kim gestured, not quite sure what words she should use. “British clothes that are unknown even in Britain.”

            “Actually, our owner is a fan of your band. She found out about Angelic Darkness through one of Ebony’s interviews and started searching it out. The prices are way out there, considering how hard it is to actually get these in any quantity--”

            “Considering Eb doesn’t like the thought of some line of factory workers touching any of her designs, yeh.”

            “But even with the cost being so high, Ebony’s designs are a hit.”

            “That’s just too awesome.” Kim shook her head, smiling. “My Ebony, exporting to the US of A and she didn’t even bloody well tell me. I would expect no less of the grrl.” She turned away from the rack. “So, Ivory, I’ve got a rock star’s wages at my disposal, and cravings for a new off-stage yet on-camera wardrobe. I figure you’re the closest I’m going to get to professional advice, so advise away.”

***

“You were hitting on Ivory.” Dave didn’t sound surprised. He shifted the weight of the bags that Kim had placed under his care as they left Stormy Leather behind.

            “Of course I was hitting on her. She was hot. Oh, you’re jealous... You could have hit on her too, you know.”

            Dave grimaced, but it was hiding a smile. “And get myself castrated by none other than Kim Kissably herself?”

            “Hey, I don’t think I believe in exclusivity.”

            “So how many people you seeing behind my back?”

            “One. Though I didn’t think it was behind your back. Really, I thought everyone knew by now.”

            Dave stopped. “Jessie?”

            Kim nodded, watching him as she walked past. “Yeh. Jess.”

            He started moving again. “Well, I... Should I back down? I mean, she’s your bassist, you’ve known her so long. I’m just an intrusion, right?”

            “No. I talked to Jess about it.” Well, she kind of talked to her about it, at least. “She said it was okay. So we’re good to go, but don’t expect to keep me all to yourself. Awright?”

            Dave nodded. “Anyone dating a celebrity who believes they can have said celeb all to themselves is basically an idiot.”

            Kim made a face, then went on to ignore his comment. “Now, my dear American boy, I wanna hear some shit about you. I mean, bloody ‘ell, you practically know my whole life story what from all the interviews and on-stage rants. So you owe me your own life story.”

            He motioned to a bench they were about to pass. “What say we sit? You bought enough clothes to weigh down a camel, and I don’t think I’m going to make it much farther.”

            “Wuss,” she muttered, but she went over to the bench. “So. Where are you from?”

            “I recall telling you this before.”

            “Sure, sure, Dave is from Denver. But where are you originally from?”

            “I’ve been all over the map, really. North America and Europe, mostly. I was born in Atlanta, but didn’t stay there very long. Dad was always moving us around. I got sick of his shit, though, and left when I was 13.”

            “Ah, a bold little runaway. Where did you go?”

            He shrugged. “Around. I don’t remember exactly. Truth to be told, I don’t even remember my last name.”

            She laughed. “Bullshit.”

            “No, it’s true!”

            “I’m never going to believe that.” She shook her head. “David from Denver, the little runaway. You need a last name.”

            “Then you can work on that. I mean, it seems like everyone around you has some kind of faked, made-up name.”

            “Hey, they’re not all faked. Some of the names are right, even if we weren’t born with them.”

            “Elvyn?”

            Kim smirked. “I hold no responsibility for Elvyn. That little arsewipe has just been tagging along in hopes of getting into my bed again.”

            “Again?” Dave almost choked.

            “Yeh. It was a stupid mistake. I wanted to lay a boy wearing eyeliner before I died, but fuck, it wasn’t worth it. So now the poor little gothling puppy dog is following me wherever I go, trying his best to impress me and get me to like him again. To that, I say good luck. It’s not going t’ happen.”

            “At least no one in your band’s as bad as Elvyn and his crew.”

            “Have you met Heather?” Kim raised her eyebrows.

            “No, not yet.”

            “Nor should you.”

            “But I do think that Chatha’s the most adorable little thing I’ve ever seen.”

            “Everyone does! It’s part of who Chatha is.”

            “I’ve noticed that Xavier is all over her.”

            “Yeh. I see those two having an actual musical career together sometime. They click that way. A lot better than anyone in my band clicks.” She made a face.

            “Oh, come on, the Red Lips Sextet is awesome. The fact that you guys don’t click gives it that much more power. It’s like... Well, The Smiths!”

            Kim wasn’t quite sure how to take that. “No offense, but I never really saw the Sextet as being the next Smiths.”

            “No, just the fact that the clash and tension between the artists really made for amazing music with them, as it does with you guys.”

            Kim smiled. “Ah. For a moment there, I was bloody well afraid you were accusing us of being easy to listen to. One thing th’ Sextet doesn’t do well is being pristinely musical.”

            “Hadn’t noticed.”

            “Are you always such a sarcastic little git?”

            “Whenever I’ve not being brutally forward, sure.”

            “I think I might like you, David from Denver with no last name.”

            “Might explain why you’ve shared my bed, huh?”

            She laughed, standing up. “You really think that has anything to do with like in my world?”

            He cocked his head, observing her. “Question.”

            “Hm?”

            “When was the last time you actually really dated, and I mean not just fucked but really dated a guy?”

            “Before I answer that, I’ve got a question of my own.”

            “Shoot.”

            “Are you assuming that we’re dating?”

            “Aren’t we? I’m travelling from city to city for and with you. I wanna be with you for the rest of your American tour, might be inclined to follow you back to Britain.”

            “So that just means you’re stalker-obsessed, not that we’re dating.”

            “Ah, but you talk to me, joke with me, make love to me--”

            “If we wanna actually use that word,” she murmured.

            “--and are rather content to wander around a foreign city with me. So aren’t we dating?”

            “Last time I dated a bloke, I was at the age where I was obligated to where a school uniform instead of just dressing up like that onstage to get guys yellin’ after me.”

            “Late teens?”

            “Nah.” She edged her way back to the bench slowly, doing her best to meet his eyes, but it wasn’t working.

            “Then ... when?”

            She sat down. It took her a few minutes to garner the resolve to meet his eyes. Blue, she noticed for the first time. She wasn’t sure if she would feel more or less guilty if they were brown instead. “I was 14.”

            “And now you’re...”

            Kim swallowed. “Not that it’s any right of yours t’ be asking after a grrl’s age, but... 21.”

            He watched her, unsure at first what to do or say. Finally, he grinned and cried out: “Score!”

            She followed her first immediate impulse and hit him, but then laughed. “You little prick!”

            “At least I’m not just a thing with a prick. That makes my day about as much as this.” He couldn’t stop smiling. “First guy to land Kim Kissably in seven years!”

            “Nah...” She took a breath before continuing. “First guy to land Kim Kissably. Ever. I was Kimberly Standen then; it was a bloody long time ago. An’ y’know, I wasn’t lying up onstage for m’ show in L.A, either...”

            “About?”

            “Dave... David from Denver.” She smiled softly. “Atlanta-born and world-wise, stupid enough to be followin’ a musician around his home country... I wasn’t lying when I said I was looking for my last man.” She fought every urge she had to stand up and stare at the ground as she finished saying this. Because she had to meet his blue eyes and tell him, make sure he understood. “You’re my last man.” She took in a breath, realizing something. “Dave Lastman!”

            “So you bestow me with an amazing honor and a name?” He took hold of her arms, smiling insatiably. “If I didn’t know you’d deck me, I think I’d tell you I love you. But because I don’t need a black eye to go with this incredible feeling, how about I just kiss you?”

            Kim licked her lips, dropping her eyes from his again. She felt suddenly shy. “I’ve never said no before.”

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