Punk and Zen (10 page)

“Morning.” I nodded in Nico’s direction. “Nico’s
here.”

Cap’s eyes popped open. “Oh, geez. Hey, Nico,” and he
took a step back into his room, shutting the door. It opened again a moment
later, and he stepped out, wearing a pair of boxer shorts.

“Hey, man, sorry about that.” He grinned at Nico and
clapped him on the shoulder.

“No problem, man,” Nico answered noncommittally. But I
noticed the tips of his ears were a little pink as he bent over to fiddle with
his shoelaces. Cap grabbed another seat at the table.

What is it with some guys? They don’t care if you see
them naked, but another guy, oh, then they’re all modesty, unless it’s a locker
room. Then they’re all smacking each other with towels and stuff. Or maybe it’s
just me. I mean, I’m not much interested in the package so it doesn’t matter
whether I see it or not, and not just because of the male-female thing. If it
was a girl, I wouldn’t have had a problem being completely neutral either.
Well, that could have been from too many years in locker rooms myself. Okay,
maybe there had been one exception, a long time ago, but let’s not go there.
That hurt so much to think about I couldn’t breathe. Maybe it depended on the
context, I mused to myself as I walked over to the kitchen sink to get a glass
of water.

Cap yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “You
hanging for the day?” he asked Nico midyawn. “You guys want to watch stuff with
me?” He brought his arms down and looked from Nico to me. “I got a few new
videos,” he wheedled in his most tempting tone.“Lots of babes in action.”

Nico and I looked at each other a moment. We knew what
Cap meant, and it wasn’t movies—at least not big-screen ones with ratings for
the general public and leading ladies rescuing people, no dialogue, but enough
explosions to keep the keenest pyro happy. No, it was more like things that
could only be filmed in certain places (I hear tell a few spots in California
“specialize,” ABC but that ain’t necessarily true) so the cops wouldn’t
arrest the crew, half of which would be naked, and all the explosions would be
of a more, um, limited, biological sort.

Not that Nico or I were particularly averse to
pornography. I mean, we’d seen every video our dad had ever hidden in his
workshop, and discovered that they were really funny if you played them in fast
forward or reverse (and the faster you play them, the funnier they get).
Besides, they were, in their own way, a valuable educational tool. I mean, when
a person gets to that part of their learning, no one ever talks about
technique, just anatomy and ducts. And, really, once you understood the
mechanics of fertility, pregnancy, venereal disease, and AIDS, no one ever
taught anything else—like how to enjoy it. I mean, really. Everyone wants to
tell you how your genitals work and all the things you should be paranoid about
for them (and for good reason, too), but not how to use them, so we’d gotten a
lot out of those flicks.

Still, sitting and watching one with Cap didn’t
appeal. I was sure it wouldn’t be a popcorn-throwing, smartass-commenting,
technique-dissecting session. In fact, from the look in Nico’s eye, the
suggestion made him just as uncomfortable as it made me.

I finished my water. “Thanks, but we got stuff to do
today,” I answered, not missing the grateful grin Nico flicked my way. “We’re
going to pick up my guitar.”

Both guys looked to me, eyes wide.

“Oh, wow, you’re gonna get it today?” Nico asked,
smiling. “That, Nina, is so cool.”

“Hey, nice, very nice, congratulations.” Cap nodded,
looking impressed. “How’d you manage to pull that one off so soon?”

“I worked last night, so I got paid a bit extra.” I
smiled with real joy. “And now, I’m going to shower, so we can run out there.”

“Well, hey, don’t let me keep you,” Cap said, “but if
you get bored, you know where I’ll be.”

“Yeah, I do,” I answered as I made my way to the
bathroom. And I did know. He’d be on the sofa, eyes glued to the screen, with
one hand on the remote, watching blow-job scenes and “money shots” over and
over. The other hand, well, you know where it would be—and not motionless,
either. Not that I cared. I mean, masturbating is a healthy thing; it was just,
well, no thanks. Didn’t want to see that.

I took a shower and did my hair in record time.
Dressing was just as quick. Required undergarments, a black
Love and Rockets
T-shirt with Hopey (my favorite character) playing with her band on it,
button-fly black jeans, and a pair of engineer’s boots. Black, of course. Did I
mention that I wore a lot of black?

One last check in the mirror, and I was good to go.
Let’s see. My hair was up, my clothes were on, and I was ready to rock and
roll.

I stepped out of the bathroom and headed for the door,
stopping only to grab an old army bag that held my wallet (complete with last
night’s pay), sunglasses, cigarettes, lighter—you know, stuff, all the stuff
that you need during the day.

“Hey, Nina,” a female voice creaked out at me as Nico
stood to join me, and I looked for its source.

Jackie stood in an extra-long sleep shirt by the sofa
back, a cup of tea cradled in her hands. Her hair was disheveled and her face
still swollen with sleep. Add in her knee socks, and she looked all of twelve
or thirteen years old, except her eyes. They were slitted and glaring at me
over her mug as she sipped.

“Morning, Jackie,” I returned with cheerful wariness.
I couldn’t tell if the glare was her usual morning grumpiness—because Jackie
could be an absolute horror show before she finished her morning caffeine
ritual—or something else. I was erring on the side of caution, either way.

She drank deeply, then lowered her mug to her chin,
watching me over its rim. “We need to talk when you get back,” she said
finally. “I have a few questions for you.”

Oh, great, just great. I inwardly rolled my eyes.

Over by the sink, Cap’s shoulders shook with
suppressed laughter. “Someone’s in trouble,” he singsonged to me with a smile.

I gave him my own sickly approximation of a smile,
then gave Jackie my full attention.

“I’d prefer”—she sipped again—“to talk now, though.”
She finished her tea and stared longingly into her cup when she realized it was
empty before she was ready for me. “Hello, Nicholas,” she greeted my brother,
without a smile, without so much as a glance. Her eyes were fixed on me, and
her face was grave as Nico muttered a low greeting in response behind me.

“Well, I think I’ll just scoot along,” Cap
interrupted, a mug and a bowl in his hands—coffee and Cheerios drowning in
milk, from the looks of it. “If you’ll excuse me.” He bowed slightly toward me
and Nico.

He faced Jackie, square on. “I hate to get in the way
of these sensitive chats,” he told the room in general, his voice as flat as
his expression. Cap gave me a shrug. Well, he was right. What could you do?

“You didn’t do anything, kid,” he muttered to me from
the corner of his mouth. “Bear with it, then ignore it. Later!” He grinned
brightly and briefly to me and Nico, and with that, he walked the few steps to
his room, opening the door with his foot. It closed behind him with a sharp
slam, and Nico and I stood there for a moment as the air settled from the
sound.

Apparently more than one conversation had gone on
while I’d slept, I quickly concluded.

“I, um, I’ll go bring the van around,” Nico said into
the awkwardness that had descended into the room, then nimbly slipped out the
door.

Jackie stalked over to the sink and washed her mug in measured
silence before she turned on me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she
launched at me. “What the hell did you do to Trace?” Her eyes blazed, and her
voice ripped at me with anger. She folded her arms across her chest, waiting
for an answer.

I stood there staring, mute, attempting to comprehend
Jackie’s anger. How was I supposed to answer that tirade? What did I do,
anyway? Okay, maybe there was a reasonable way to respond. Jackie was,
generally speaking, rational, and she’d been a good friend for a while. If I
explained, she’d be able to help me find the middle road between responsibility
and blame, and if there was blame to be laid upon me, bring it on. I wasn’t,
then and now, afraid to face myself or my faults.

But first things first.

“Where’s Trace?” I asked. I don’t know why I cared,
but I did. If we were going to work something out and still be friends, I
wanted to know if she was okay. Despite my bruises, the memory of her curled up
on her side sleeping, the gentle vulnerability she revealed when we were alone,
touched me, softened me. I couldn’t really be too angry—I loved her.

Of course, a little voice in the back of my head
warned me, too. If Jackie and Trace ganged up on me, I was done for. I was
trying to ignore that voice, but it was insistent, and it told me that I’d been
calumniated, if not, at the very least, misrepresented. Shut up, voice, I
thought; suspicion isn’t very honorable. I’d hear this out before I came to any
conclusions.

“She left before you came back,” Jackie said softly,
anger diminished for the moment. “She said she couldn’t bear to talk with you
yet.” Jackie shifted and leaned back against the sink. “So, I’m asking you
again, what did you do? I’ve already heard about your,” her mouth tightened for
a moment, “escapades. Did you drink too much? I can understand that,” she told
me quietly, “and I can understand that things may be coming to some sort of
head between you two.” Jackie paused and glanced down, studying the floor as
she considered her next words.

Finally she looked up, the lines of her face hard and
set. Well, she certainly didn’t look sleepy anymore. “What I can’t understand,
though, is how, is why,” she shook her head and held her hands up as if they’d
help her ask and understand, “why you,” and her eyes now held both anger and
tears, “you of all people, would want to fuck with someone’s head like that?
Haven’t we all been your friends? Didn’t I take you in when you had no place to
go?” Jackie’s voice rose. “You’re here because of me!” she yelled.

“She pays more rent and more often than you do,” Cap
called out from his room. I glanced at the door, then back at Jackie.
Thank
you
, I thought silently.
At least I’m not completely alone in this.

Jackie gathered herself again, folding her arms and
still leaning back ABC on the sink. She took a deep breath, visibly
forcing herself to be calm. “Be that as it may,” she stated, “you share my
home, my bed, for Christ’s sake. How could you do that? How could you go and
fucking treat a friend,
my
friend,” she emphasized, “like that?”

Told you so
, the little voice in my head said, a bit smugly too,
I might add. Well, okay, I’d heard her out. I could even understand how she
felt. I mean, I’d feel the same way if someone I’d trusted had, or I thought
had, hurt a friend of mine. But that’s not what happened—at least, not as I saw
it. I’d just have to explain my side of it or, at least, most of it.

I was going to leave some stuff out, like where and
how I was bruised. I couldn’t really bring myself to talk about it—not here,
not now, especially not at this moment, although I knew the information might
flip those tables so fast we’d all see double. But that didn’t seem right to
me. It seemed sort of, like, I don’t know, hunting for butterflies with atom
bombs or something. Besides, somehow, I can’t really explain why, I felt like
this was my fault.

“What exactly is it that you think I did?” I asked in
an even tone. If I was going to attempt to be a rational adult, it wouldn’t do
me any good to attack in return. Right? Yeah, I thought so, too.

Jackie straightened up from her position and stepped
toward me. “Don’t,” she hissed, “don’t you dare use that prep-school cool on
me.” She waved a finger in my face. “Right now, you’re fucking nowhere and no
one, and I’ll kick you out of here faster than you can…you can…you can just go
fuck yourself if that’s how you’re going to be.”

I stepped back. Not only do I have absolutely no love
for anyone invading/encroaching on my personal space without an invitation,
especially when they’re angry and waving their hands (and God help the person
who actually makes a move to my head or face), but that icy heat was starting
to burn into my face. Right now I still had control of my mouth and my body,
but if she got louder, if she fuckin’ so much as touched me in anger, I
couldn’t guarantee that I could maintain my cool.

At that moment, Cap’s door opened, and we both looked
as he stepped out, T-shirt and jeans on this time.

“Okay, if anyone has anything to say about who lives
here, it’s me. And right now, all three of us live here,” he said firmly as he
approached us. Outside, I heard a car horn blow, and I could tell from the way
they cocked their heads that Jackie and Cap heard it, too. Nico must have
brought the van around and was waiting for me.

We stood in that little area in the kitchen, facing
each other in a triangle. “Nina, go, have a good time with your brother. I’ve
thought of a great space for you to put your guitar in,” Cap told me very
calmly, motioning me toward the door. “Jackie,” he addressed her and continued,
“lay off. Nina’s one of your best friends. You don’t know what really happened,
and you know that Trace, well”—he hunted for the right words—“she’s Trace.”