Brutal Precious
Page 19
“Look, you can stay. But when Nameless gets here, you should leave.”
“Yes, thank you for giving me permission to continue what I’ve been doing for the last five years.”
Jack stops, hand against the stairwell door. “I apologize.”
“Don’t. It makes you seem nice.”
“He’s wanted by some very powerful people for doing some very bad things.”
“Good. Before you arrest him with your spy-goggles or whatever, let me punch him.”
“Isis –”
“Just one punch. In the eyeball. With a spoon.”
Jack considers it, then smirks. “Fine. On one condition.”
“Name it, dork.”
“I get the other eye.”
I mull it over, and nod. “I’m a generous god.”
I’m more grateful than he knows. Or maybe he does know, because his eyes are soft and warm with the knife of his quiet blazing anger. I’d seen it pointed at me enough times to know that this time, it’s not me it’s pointed at.
It’s Nameless.
I’m not the only one who knows. Jack might not know details, but he knows enough. He guessed enough. And he didn’t pry. His eyes have no pity, or guilt. They are clear and they see me, and my secret isn’t a secret, anymore. The weight is shared and divided and I try to say thank you, but all that comes out is a wry smile.
I am half as dark as I used to be.
Jack turns and opens the door. We walk out of the stairwell and my jaw pops like my old Beatle’s shitty trunk. The apartment building is all white stone and marble; massive, patio-style walkways intertwining between mounds of purple hydrangeas and autumn roses. People mill about, walking their dogs or sitting in fancy patio chairs near the covered glass fire pit, wood crackling and embers dancing. A hot-tub and an enormous lit pool are surrounded by umbrella covered tables and grills, drunk college students flinging burgers and nasty jokes like they’re going out of style. Charlie is talking to the black-bikini girl, looking grumpy and munching on chips. People shove each other in the pool and shriek with laughter in the hot tub. Jack touches my forearm lightly and leans in to whisper.
“I’m going to socialize. I need information. Stay where I can see you.”
“I don’t need you to babysit me,” I say. “Do your job. I’ll just be over here, you know, having fun. You should try it sometime.”
I grab a hot dog and sit on a lawn chair, near the hot tub. A blonde guy with svelte abs and a friendly smile glances at me.
“Hey,”
“Hi,” I spew meat delicately on the patio tile.
“No swimsuit?” He asks.
“Left mine back home. On Mars.”
“Is that why you stand out like a sore thumb? Because you’re an alien?”
“Or, or, and this is a crazy theory – I’m just hotter than everyone else here,” I offer.
The guy laughs. “It’s true. Your hair’s awesome.”
“So is yours. In that beachy I’m-definitely-from-California-and-spend-five-days-a-week-in-the-gym kind of way.”
He laughs again, louder, and gets out of the hot tub to sit by me, dripping wet.
“Three days, thank you very much. I’m not that much of a swole broski.”
“Coulda fooled me,” I nod at his stomach. He pats it like Santa after eating too many cookies.
“It’s my one pride and joy. I’ve got no brains and no future, but I’ve got these babies.”
“That’s all you need,” I say. “Take a picture and send it to Kim Kardashian. Marry her.”
“I’d have to fight Kanye,” he laments.
“Eh,” I wave my hand. “Just tell him his sunglasses suck. He’ll keel over and die.”
The guy sniggers. “I’m Kyle Morris. Nice to meet you.”
“Isis,” I say automatically. “Destroyer of Hearts and Dreams. And Any Cakes In A Two-Mile Vicinity.”
“Ravenclaw,” he offers his hand to shake. I grab it with my greasy one.
“Hufflepuff,” I say. He quirks a brow.
“Really? You don’t seem all that nice.”
“Oh,” I point what’s left of my hot dog bun at him. “Just wait until you see my friends. I practically run a charity show.”
“The guy you came in with?” He nods to Jack, who’s currently being exceedingly merciful and letting black bikini girl cling to his arm and jabber at him, and she has a pierced belly button and probably a pierced vagina and her name is Hemorrhoid, by the way. The girls in the hot tub Kyle came from are slowly starting to notice just how good looking Jack is, and they get out in a group, strutting past Jack and diving into the nearby pool with aching sexiness. The boys follow like hungry hounds.
“Yeah, the goober being goobed on,” I say. “He’s my friend.”
“Just a friend?”
“Is that like, some subtle cue slash question I’m supposed to confirm so you know whether or not you’ve got a chance to sleep with me? Because if so it’s very not-subtle and lacking finesse, really, next time maybe try a neon sign taped to your forehead that says LOSER LOOKING TO GET LAID. With the numeral two replacing to, obviously, to save time, because that seems to be all guys really care about – getting laid as fast as possible.”
Kyle takes it in stride, looking mock-wounded. “Hey, at least I’m being honest.”
I roll my eyes and wander over to the pool, trying my darndest and failing my darndest to not glance at the way black-bikini is grinding her hip into Jack’s as she leans on him. Charlie’s off in the deep end of the pool with a bunch of girls, even his grin somehow grumpy as they splash him. Last time I checked, spying involved a lot more grappling guns and poison dart pens and a lot less giggling. I stand at the edge of the pool and watch the moon reflecting on the water in a wiggly silver medallion. Kyle stands beside me.
“So, what’s your major?”
“I’m a freshmen. Undecided. Nuclear Thermophysics. Culinary Arts. Depends on how I feel when I wake up that day.” I hold two hands out and balance them like scales. “Destroy the world, or make a cake to celebrate destroying the world. The choice is so gosh darn difficult.”
Kyle laughs. “God, you’re cool.”
“It’s been said,” I agree. “Screamed, really. By my enemies. Just before I decapitate them.”
Suddenly there’s a sharp pressure on my ass, a squeeze. I jump, my squeal entirely ugly and entirely necessary as I look to Kyle, horrified. My first grope ever. He smirks and shrugs. I ball my fist into two bigger fists, but I never get the chance to throw them. Kyle goes flying, splashing into the pool with an embarrassing flailing motion. Jack stands at the place he used to be, expression cool.
“Oops,” He drones. Hemorrhoid laughs, and the other girls starts laughing, and so when Kyle comes up sputtering he has no choice but to laugh nervously with the rest of them.
“Haha, nice one bro!”
Jack quirks a disdainful brow at him. Charlie comes wading over and gets out, pulling Jack aside. Charlie’s words are rapid and low and hissy, and Jack’s are monotone. Hemorrhoid stands with me, sighing.
“He’s so dreamy, isn’t he?”
“Yes, thank you for giving me permission to continue what I’ve been doing for the last five years.”
Jack stops, hand against the stairwell door. “I apologize.”
“Don’t. It makes you seem nice.”
“He’s wanted by some very powerful people for doing some very bad things.”
“Good. Before you arrest him with your spy-goggles or whatever, let me punch him.”
“Isis –”
“Just one punch. In the eyeball. With a spoon.”
Jack considers it, then smirks. “Fine. On one condition.”
“Name it, dork.”
“I get the other eye.”
I mull it over, and nod. “I’m a generous god.”
I’m more grateful than he knows. Or maybe he does know, because his eyes are soft and warm with the knife of his quiet blazing anger. I’d seen it pointed at me enough times to know that this time, it’s not me it’s pointed at.
It’s Nameless.
I’m not the only one who knows. Jack might not know details, but he knows enough. He guessed enough. And he didn’t pry. His eyes have no pity, or guilt. They are clear and they see me, and my secret isn’t a secret, anymore. The weight is shared and divided and I try to say thank you, but all that comes out is a wry smile.
I am half as dark as I used to be.
Jack turns and opens the door. We walk out of the stairwell and my jaw pops like my old Beatle’s shitty trunk. The apartment building is all white stone and marble; massive, patio-style walkways intertwining between mounds of purple hydrangeas and autumn roses. People mill about, walking their dogs or sitting in fancy patio chairs near the covered glass fire pit, wood crackling and embers dancing. A hot-tub and an enormous lit pool are surrounded by umbrella covered tables and grills, drunk college students flinging burgers and nasty jokes like they’re going out of style. Charlie is talking to the black-bikini girl, looking grumpy and munching on chips. People shove each other in the pool and shriek with laughter in the hot tub. Jack touches my forearm lightly and leans in to whisper.
“I’m going to socialize. I need information. Stay where I can see you.”
“I don’t need you to babysit me,” I say. “Do your job. I’ll just be over here, you know, having fun. You should try it sometime.”
I grab a hot dog and sit on a lawn chair, near the hot tub. A blonde guy with svelte abs and a friendly smile glances at me.
“Hey,”
“Hi,” I spew meat delicately on the patio tile.
“No swimsuit?” He asks.
“Left mine back home. On Mars.”
“Is that why you stand out like a sore thumb? Because you’re an alien?”
“Or, or, and this is a crazy theory – I’m just hotter than everyone else here,” I offer.
The guy laughs. “It’s true. Your hair’s awesome.”
“So is yours. In that beachy I’m-definitely-from-California-and-spend-five-days-a-week-in-the-gym kind of way.”
He laughs again, louder, and gets out of the hot tub to sit by me, dripping wet.
“Three days, thank you very much. I’m not that much of a swole broski.”
“Coulda fooled me,” I nod at his stomach. He pats it like Santa after eating too many cookies.
“It’s my one pride and joy. I’ve got no brains and no future, but I’ve got these babies.”
“That’s all you need,” I say. “Take a picture and send it to Kim Kardashian. Marry her.”
“I’d have to fight Kanye,” he laments.
“Eh,” I wave my hand. “Just tell him his sunglasses suck. He’ll keel over and die.”
The guy sniggers. “I’m Kyle Morris. Nice to meet you.”
“Isis,” I say automatically. “Destroyer of Hearts and Dreams. And Any Cakes In A Two-Mile Vicinity.”
“Ravenclaw,” he offers his hand to shake. I grab it with my greasy one.
“Hufflepuff,” I say. He quirks a brow.
“Really? You don’t seem all that nice.”
“Oh,” I point what’s left of my hot dog bun at him. “Just wait until you see my friends. I practically run a charity show.”
“The guy you came in with?” He nods to Jack, who’s currently being exceedingly merciful and letting black bikini girl cling to his arm and jabber at him, and she has a pierced belly button and probably a pierced vagina and her name is Hemorrhoid, by the way. The girls in the hot tub Kyle came from are slowly starting to notice just how good looking Jack is, and they get out in a group, strutting past Jack and diving into the nearby pool with aching sexiness. The boys follow like hungry hounds.
“Yeah, the goober being goobed on,” I say. “He’s my friend.”
“Just a friend?”
“Is that like, some subtle cue slash question I’m supposed to confirm so you know whether or not you’ve got a chance to sleep with me? Because if so it’s very not-subtle and lacking finesse, really, next time maybe try a neon sign taped to your forehead that says LOSER LOOKING TO GET LAID. With the numeral two replacing to, obviously, to save time, because that seems to be all guys really care about – getting laid as fast as possible.”
Kyle takes it in stride, looking mock-wounded. “Hey, at least I’m being honest.”
I roll my eyes and wander over to the pool, trying my darndest and failing my darndest to not glance at the way black-bikini is grinding her hip into Jack’s as she leans on him. Charlie’s off in the deep end of the pool with a bunch of girls, even his grin somehow grumpy as they splash him. Last time I checked, spying involved a lot more grappling guns and poison dart pens and a lot less giggling. I stand at the edge of the pool and watch the moon reflecting on the water in a wiggly silver medallion. Kyle stands beside me.
“So, what’s your major?”
“I’m a freshmen. Undecided. Nuclear Thermophysics. Culinary Arts. Depends on how I feel when I wake up that day.” I hold two hands out and balance them like scales. “Destroy the world, or make a cake to celebrate destroying the world. The choice is so gosh darn difficult.”
Kyle laughs. “God, you’re cool.”
“It’s been said,” I agree. “Screamed, really. By my enemies. Just before I decapitate them.”
Suddenly there’s a sharp pressure on my ass, a squeeze. I jump, my squeal entirely ugly and entirely necessary as I look to Kyle, horrified. My first grope ever. He smirks and shrugs. I ball my fist into two bigger fists, but I never get the chance to throw them. Kyle goes flying, splashing into the pool with an embarrassing flailing motion. Jack stands at the place he used to be, expression cool.
“Oops,” He drones. Hemorrhoid laughs, and the other girls starts laughing, and so when Kyle comes up sputtering he has no choice but to laugh nervously with the rest of them.
“Haha, nice one bro!”
Jack quirks a disdainful brow at him. Charlie comes wading over and gets out, pulling Jack aside. Charlie’s words are rapid and low and hissy, and Jack’s are monotone. Hemorrhoid stands with me, sighing.
“He’s so dreamy, isn’t he?”
