you're keeping in step
in the line
got your chin held high
and you feel just fine
cause you do
what do you're told
but inside your heart its black and its hollow and it's cold
Brenda was wearing long sleeves. Of all the things he could notice, that he was supposed to notice, Jerry noticed the sleeves. Brenda had new socks on--purple--and she was doing her hair differently and she was extra bubbly. She was also moving around a lot. It was all a distraction from the sleeves. Jerry came up to her as she was cooking breakfast--eggs and ham. He grabbed her wrist as she reached for the brown sugar. He held it up and had the sleeve down before she could protest.
Fresh cuts.
They'd had an argument last night. The content didn'nt matter. The words never mattered--she didn't process the words. Only the emotions. Fear, anger, guilt, shame. These things ran through her like torrents of a silent storm. Jerry glanced at the self-inflicted injury only briefly. Then he kissed it. Then he walked away. It was not their usual routine. Usually he took her in the bathroom for antibacterial and anti-scarring cream and then held her while she cried. The normal routine didn't seem to be helping, though, and she was dominating his life. So he just kissed her, and walked away. No shame, no scolding. He'd just see out it worked this time..
She maintained her composure through breakfast. Somber at first, then chatty. He had no idea what was goinng on inside her head. He's given up trying to.
Brenda started tearing up while they were clearing the plates. Jerry couldn't guess what that meant. He didn't know if that was good, or better, or bad. Was this the right thing to do? Should he have maintained the same ritual? He couldn't know. He could only...keep going.
Jerry took her face in his hands and brought it close and kissed where the tears were. One kiss for each one. Brenda counted 7 total. Then he kissed her mouth. Jerry wanted to pick her up and carry her up to her bedroom, but he wasn't sure he could lift her effortlessly in one shot, and if he had to put her back down again to readjust...she'd think she was fat all over again. Better to just lead her by the hand.
This time, she led him. Brenda took him to the living room and pushed him into an arm chair. He sunk down into it. They didn't have time for sex; his friends were going to get here soon. Brenda got on her kness, on top of his knees, and leaned down to kiss him. They made out for a while. She loved the feeling of his arms around her; they made her feel safe.
Brenda snake her tounge inside Jerry's mouth, toying with him, smiling. Looks like he had done the right thing. This was just an aftershock. Jerry tried to imagine the waters of her mind calming down like a lake after a storm, and then banished the thought. He wasn't a psychiatrist. He had no idea how the mind worked. Brenda had her hands on his chest. She was kissing down along his cheekbone, done his neck, along his colllar bone. Her hands were definitely on his chest. The weight was getting a bit too much. And then the pain started. Scar tissue under his left ribcage started to burn. He grunted.
"Oh! I'm sorry." She backed off immediately, sitting back on her heels. Her entire weight was now near his knees. Jerry had to concentrate to keep them from collapsing to the side. Brenda had a healthy, attractive weight (a fact she refused to believe) but she was not a light girl.
"I'm fine, I'm fine." He tugged her shirt, trying to pull her back down for more kisses.
"No, I'm sorry." She got off of him.
He stood up. "I said I was fine."
"Do you need your inhaler?"
"No I don't need my inhaler." Where the fuck did she get off with that? He had raised his voice a hair to loud. Much worse, she saw the anger and frustration in his face. She burst into tears. He grabbed her and held her close before she could run to the bathroom, giving her a lond, solid, reassuring hug. She cried into his shoulder. Jerry stroked her hair, glad that she could not see the rage on his face. Brenda had an obnoxious way of exagerating and harping every physical ailment of his that she could discover. He had a nascent suspicion that she focused on his outward, physical weaknesses because it made the relationship more balanced away from her inner ones. Unlike the stormy water imagining, he couldn't shake this one. And it was especially frustrating when he missed out on sex because of it. Jerry wanted to pound his fist through a table. Instead, he suggested they make coffee. Then he put his happy face on.
Dave and his girlfriend (or just lady friend?) arrived while they were still sipping their coffee.
Eve pulled into the suburban driveway behind Dave and they parked their bikes. The drive had been absolutely amazing. The trees were brilliant colors, and leaves were falling all around them, and the road--oh the road was better than sex. It was just two lanes, and full of turns, and gorgeous views. Every time they got stuck behind a car, they found a passing strip to get around it. Sometimes they didn't always wait for a passing strip. It made her feel naughty. Deliciously naughty, and excited. All in all, the entire experience was glorious. Having another person there doubled the fun. She wanted to do it again with someone. She wanted to do it again with Dave. Eve realized that was the first time she wanted Dave in a part of her future, and filed that way for a mental note.
Jerry and a very bubbly, energetic girl exited the house as the riders were dismounting. Dave made introductions. They shook hands. Brenda was beaming like a little kid.
"I want to meet the person who's going to ride Carby."
"Right here, sister." Elena spoke from the doorway. She leaned against it seductively. She had a helmet, but was otherwise dressed clothes that better suited someone going clubbing: sking tight jeans tucked into large fuck-me boots, and giant, three-inch wide "fashionable" belt, some kind of fancy girl shirt, and a shiny, red leather jacket. The boots and jacket were both leather, but they were the kind designed for making men drool, not for protecting a rider. She also had a scarf. And sunglasses--the giant, ugly square ones that most girls on the planet mistakenly think are attractive. She had both a helmet and sunglasses--not her idea, and the director didn't see a problem.
"Elena!" Eve was surprised, to say the least.
"Geez, close the door you're letting the heat out," said Jerry.
Elena walked down the steps and stroked Carby's gas tank. "Don't worry," she told Eve, "I'll take good care of him." She looked at Carby, "Won't I?"
My seat. Your ass. Lets make it happen, said Carby.
The rest arrived an hour later. A whiny kid who was the director. A plump, indie kid with a giant fuzzy beard that Eve thought looked like he should be the director but was actuallly in charge of...something else. Jerry was the Camera guy. Elena and another russian-looking girl (who was actually from Kiev) were the actors. The day was reserved for a single scene: the scene in some movie where two girls arrive somewhere on motorcycles.
Eve and Dave lounged outside in folding chairs watching the action unfold. Filming took ridiculously long, especially because of the sunglasses. The director wanted the girls to arrive, stop and get off without showing them put down the kick stands, and then take off their helmets and toss their hair, revealing the big ass sunglasses underneath. While most riders normally opt for a tinted helmet visor, some riders can wear some kinds of sunglasses while they have their helmets on. If their helmet is sized correctly, they pretty much have to put the sunglasses on after the helmet, and take them off first, and those sunglasses are not the kind with gaudy letters on the sides.
Dave was glad he finally got to have some quality time with Jerry.
"I noticed the long sleeves," said Dave.
Jerry nodded. Eve looked at them strangely. "Everyone has long sleeves on, its chilly out here."
"Brenda's making hot chocolate if you want some," said Jerry.
"Oh, sure." Eve got up and trotted inside.
"Hows your investigation going?" Jerry asked him.
"Fine. Slow. I almost have enough data to move against Marksen, but the real proof is inside their office, and I'm questioning whether I want to go that far. How's the long sleeves?"
"Fine. Slow. It seems like every day is just as bad as the last one. But when I think about a while ago, like months back, well its not as bad as back then."
Dave raised his beer, and Jerry knocked against it with his own.
Jerry felt a whisp of something, an extra edge to the air in his lungs. He hoped it was a cough. When was the last time? Only two months ago. Were they getting more frequent? He didn't know. Yeah, it wasn't a cough. Maybe the cold air. And the shifting seasons...must have put something in the air. His lungs continued to tighten up, slowly. He continued chatting with Dave, passing the time with recent anectdotes, math jokes, and whatever else. Jerry was waiting, hoping Brenda and Eve would come out with the hot chocolate and maybe pass it around or something, give him a chance. Ten or twenty minutes passed. The girls were still inside, and his wheezing was about to become audible. He had already coughed three times. If he coughed again, it wouldn't sound normal, and he was already losing focus on the conversation. He excused himself to go inside. Jerry did his best to slip through the kitchen unnoticed. His nearest stash was the little bathroom in the hallway. In this bathroom was a corny round stone thing with the word "Love" etched on the side, and a frog on top. This decoration had a second purpose beyond guarding the sink. It had a secret cache that was designed for weed but was also large enough to fit an over-the-counter inhaler. The previous...guy...had kept weed there. Jerry kept an inhaler.
Jerry locked the canister to the casing. He heard footsteps. That better not be fucking her. He exhaled as best he could; it triggered more coughs, then right before an intake of air he raised the device to his lips and gave himself one shot of mist. The full dosage was two. He usually only needed one. Then, there was the cough, the giant cough that always followed, because of liquid suddenly pooling in his lungs. He looked at the ingredients. Epinephrine? The drug remined him of a action movie he'd seen where the hero gave himself an extreme overdose of epinephrine by way of injection and had run around a city tearing things up. Jerry was not so cool as that. He rinsed the plastic as best he could, and tried to get the whole thing back in the stone as quick as he could. Then he realized he could have just locked the door. He reached for the lock but suddenly the door opened. Brenda, super worried.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah, fine." He pushed out of the bathroom, and also gave her a quick kiss on the head. "Any hot chocolate left?"
"Tons. You think its the leaves?" What?
"I don't...know. I'm fine," he answered. Brenda was behind him. Jerry rolled his eyes as she followed him into the kitchen.
Outside, Eve delivered a hot chocolate break and made the mistake of asking the skinny kid what the movie was about. He started going off, excitedly, using a lot of movie-making jargon and fancy creative terms. Eve had a word for this: insta-crush. Eve found it difficult and extremely awkward to continue being polite. She saw Dave looking at her with a grin on his face. He found this amusing. Eve was annoyed at him, but she couldn't be that annoyed. There had been a day when one of her step brothers had caught up to her--the one that she didn't want to catch up to her--and Dave had stayed out of the heated argument in just the same way. She appreciated that. Still, and despite the fact that she wouldn't let him call her his girlfriend, she wished he would walk over and put his arm around her like she was, and for one moment, just one, act like a frat boy and make the kid stop talking to her. Mr. Directorpants was distracted for a moment and Eve escaped. She walked as fast as she could and sat next to Dave.
"Its a vampire movie," Dave explained. Nothing that skinnyboy said corroborated that, but Elena walked by and game them both a sexy grin, showing off a pair of plastic fangs.
"Wow," said Eve.
The shooting continued into the afternoon and through the evening, with two giant breaks for lunch and dinner. And, well, a movie. Eve wanted to leave before the movie.
"Its getting late, and I don't don't want to ride all the way back when it's cold." Eve didn't have the jumpsuit; she didn't want to lounge around in it all day.
"Can you guys just stay over?" asked Jerry. "I think we have a lot more shooting we're like to do." They did. There was fighting, and some sucking, and maybe even dialog that they wanted the motorcycles in the picture for.
"We'll give you another $300 for another day with the bikes, each" said the cute one with the beard.
Eve looked at Dave. He shrugged. "I'm down."
"I don't have any of my stuff," said Eve.
"You can have my spare toothbrush!" said the skinny director-kid.
That time, Dave did glare at him like a stereotypical, jealous frat boy.
They drank, they watched Blade, and then older movies for "inspiration." They also drank. Elena walked around with a bottle of vodka, offering a mixed drink involving citrus soda. She clearly enjoyed being thought of as "the Russian." Eve had, quite simply, an awesome time. How long had it been that she could just relax and hang out with fun people? Too long. Way, way too long.
Out in the garage, Carby tried to strike up a conversation with Dave's bike. Dave's bike was not very talkative.
Inside, Eve notice that a lot of them were paired off. Jerry and Brenda were next to each other, and there was another couple in the corner, and Elena was sitting on the bearded guys lap pretending not to give him a good view of her cleavage and...she and Dave were together. Eve didn't mind. He had his arm around her. Eve rested her head against his shoulder , watching a black and white vampire sink his teeth into a female, 50s stereotype.
When people started to nod off, the singles were left in the living room, and the various couples paired off to other parts of the house. Eve and Dave were laying out the sleeping bags Jerry had given them on opposite sides of the dinning room table when Elena walked in and took each of their hands and led them up to the master bedroom. Brenda's parents bedroom. Apparently, there were away. Eve tried to resist, saying it wasn't necessary.
"Don't you want it?" Eve asked.
"No, Beardy's not getting laid tonight," laughed Elena. "You two have fun." Elena leaned way out of her way to slap Eve on the ass, hard, before she ran out and closed the door, giggling. Eve looked at the door, wondering if Dave's friends thought they were sleeping together. Something about Dave's body language, the way he grinned and unbuttoned his shirt, suggested they didn't.
/* yeah, so Ijust volunteered to head into the office and take care of a problem. I am publishing this now, because last time I kept a draft of a chapter too long I almost lost the entire thing */
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