Chapter 2
The Kraken
1
Clio watched as Crow screwed up his lips in a sneer at the wholly innocent door. She cleared her throat from where she stood behind him.
He reeled in her direction, she had almost walked by him without saying anything. Crow reached out and grabbed her tiny waist.
“Clio, come with me,” he said.
“Where are you going?” Her head throbbed. All she wanted was a cool, dark room and an icepack. She entertained the thought of skipping out tonight, but frowned at the thought of leaving her sister.
“I've gotta an errand to run. C’mon, I don't want to go alone and we won't be gone long.”
She made a quick estimation of Crow and then the dressing room door. “Are you asking because he wants to get rid of me?”
She made a face that made Crow break into a smile. “What of it? You know I would’ve asked anyway.”
“I don't know, Crow.” Her pink ponytails swished to the side when she cocked her head. She looked to the door again. This flirtation had been going on for months and Clio knew it drove him mad.
His hand found the small of her back and he pulled her in close to press his forehead to hers. He smirked and laced his fingers through hers.
She remained uncertain, but let him lead her away. Crow threaded their way through the masses of backstage fans and down a large echoing hallway. They ducked into a stairway and came out in the parking lot. He had a burgundy
“Hey, it's not like Teddy Pendergrass or Joe Cocker is playing tonight. You need to relax.”
“Joe Cocker’s not handicapped,” she said.
“Have you ever seen that guy sing?”
They drove through the
Summers in LA have a cloying humidity at night. The air possesses the choking smell of pressing your nose to the road and taking a big whiff. Clio wrinkled her nose.
Skyscrapers blocked the view of the horizon and gave her a claustrophobic feeling, one of the reasons she left
He opened her door. “You comin’, or what?” Crow asked. She fumbled with her seatbelt and hopped out.
They walked into a lobby through tinted glass doors and were confronted with a suspicious security guard the moment they walked in. Crow with his spiked black hair and Clio with her pink pigtails and both adorned with combat boots made them stand out like their clothes were on fire.
Crow pulled out some I.D. and showed it to the guard. He stuffed his wallet back into his green denim board shorts.
The security guard walked with them to an elevator. Instead of escorting them, he used his keys to open a small steel panel under the elevator buttons. He used another key to turn the lights of the buttons in the small panel on and pushed the button marked "12." His keys banged and rattled as he closed the panel and locked it.
“Check in at the desk when you get there. I'll be watching you on the monitor.” The guard strode out of the elevator like he thought he wasn't a rent-a-cop and it closed.
Crow touched her hand when he realized they were going down.
“Whoa,” she said.
“Creepy ass X-Files shit, only Annie would send us someplace like this.”
“If I were alone I’d be worried, I’m dispensable, but he needs you.” She watched him take a deep breath out of the corner of her eye.
The elevator opened to a lobby much like the one they just left. An immense marble registry desk crouched with a couple dozen monitors behind it. In the middle of all this grayish light and marble was a woman with a pinched face, her glare barely reaching over the marble.
Behind a glass hall, several people scurried about in white coats. The glass had the words “Kraken Bioresearch” frosted upon it. Crow spoke briefly to the receptionist and Clio heard the receptionist's call to security the moment they walked in. When their clearance was approved, the receptionist called someone and spoke into her headset.
Clio had the overwhelming sensation of a circus freak in a four-star hotel, with her pink hair, glitter makeup, and dark eyeliner. She wiped her sweaty palms on the plaid schoolgirl jumper, wishing she hadn't worn wool, and reached for the support of Crow's hand.
A ridiculous buzzing noise sounded and a door they hadn't noticed made an audible click. When it swung open, a little man in a lab coat approached the pair.
“You have something for me?”
Clio had expected an accent of some sort, but was disappointed.
Crow held the envelope out to him, and gave him half of the cash Annie had given him. The man opened the envelope and peered inside. He grunted his satisfaction, took a bow, and disappeared behind the door again.
It happened so fast, Clio wondered if the door had time to close from the first opening.
The receptionist answered a call, looked at Crow, and pushed a button. “Tell Mr. Swann his fountain was delivered.”
Crow guided Clio back to the elevator, anxious to leave. Once inside the elevator, she broke into nervous laughter.
“Let's get out of here, this place is freaking me out,” Crow said and pounded the lobby button several times.
2
The
After an hour of waiting, the crowd went wild as the house lights finally dimmed. Faint movements on the stage encouraged their shrieking and the roar became deafening, as they stomped and cheered, waiting to hear the famous words from the Pied Piper of Perversion, Annie Christ.
The
People that had been in their seats now all rose to their feet and shrieked their exhilaration at the dark. Every few seconds, someone would hold up a lighter or a camera would flash, adding a sparkling glimmer to the darkened auditorium.
The mike turned on and a chorus of shrieks filled the huge room.
“Ladies and Gentleman, boys and girls!” His voice filled the darkness and mad screams of excitement ripped through the audience.
“Welcome to my fucking perdition.
Please keep your probing fingers and dripping orifices inside the car at all times
or suffer the fucking of your lives.
Anyone caught outside the car will be subject to a full and very thorough body
cavity search.
If any of this offends you...” Annie pointed the microphone at the audience.
“Then-you-should-have-stayed-the-fuck-home!” The audience roared in answer.
An explosion of blue flames erupted from the stage and there he was, wearing a flamed top hat, skintight vinyl pants, and a red vinyl ringmaster's coat and tails.
Bare chest gleaming, he ran across the stage to the throbbing drums and growling bass. The guitar picked up, and Annie howled into the microphone. The crowd devolved into a frothing frenzy.
Dark, menacing lyrics were pulsing and pounding as Annie stalked and prowled the stage, owning everyone under that roof. He was raging out the words to “Shut Up.”
“Shut up, I said, 'Shut the fuck up'
It wasn't the whores or the .44's
That drove you away
Who the fuck did you think you were playing?
The screaming, the dreaming
The bleeding, the pleading
It was all for you, baby
All this shit I rain on you
Who the fuck did you think you were laying?
The crying, the lying
The fighting, the hiding
Give it to me, baby
All the shit you rain on me
What the fuck did you think you were saying?
I will beat you, I will eat you
I will fuck you, I will feed you
You're all mine, baby
All the pains, all the stains
You left on the bed we made
Now I will reign
I will reign
I will reign
All this shit down on you
To whom the fuck did you think you were praying?”
The crowd was uncontrollable. The utter bewitchment of Annie Christ held them in thrall.
“What the fuck is wrong with you people? You act like I'm in fucking
Calliope in her happy haze couldn't help but beam with pride at her creation. Annie was as beautiful and menacing as nightshade. He found where she stood backstage and pointed to her during a phrase he knew she loved.
“Too long, this dark ride is too long,” she whispered with him.
His sinister gaze burned beneath the brim of his top hat, his hair tangled and wet, he crackled with electricity.
This incredible charge she got from the crowd, from Annie, from the music and lights, this was the reason she stayed. Calliope watched her own hand tremble like some strange thing she had plucked from the ground.
Almost time.
She wondered if she would miss him.
3
Crow captured small glimpses of her on the drive back to the
She met his smile with hers and blew the glitter off.
“You know, I think about you, Clio.”
“Oh?” She rolled the window down and felt the wind tickle her chin.
“Yeah.” He looked at her and the road, back and forth.
Her gaze swept over his face and she decided she liked looking at his freckled nose. She turned her attention back to the window.
“Christ. Why can’t we talk about it?”
“About what?”
“About us,” he said.
“You're not like other guys.”
Crow held his breath and wouldn't chance a reply.
“You don't act or talk like them,” she said.
“Well, I'm paid to stay relatively sober and make sure Annie doesn't get himself into too much trouble. Never ask questions and never answer questions by anybody but him.”
“You sound like the guy that sits by his bedside with a condom in your hand.” He looked away and she colored at the realization.
“Shit. Fuck!” Crow pulled into the middle lane to make a U-turn.
Clio's opinion of how he didn't talk like the other guys flew out the window at 45mph. She hoped they wouldn't have to go back to the Kraken for whatever it was.
“Shit. Shit, sorry Clio, I forgot to go to my grandma's and drop off this cash. I got to talking to you and – shit, do you mind?” Crow winced. He'd said 'shit' three times in one sentence.
Her eyes slanted as he made the U-turn and turned to her while keeping one eye on the road.
“I honest-to-god have to go to my grandma's, I know that sounds like some crazy line.” He smiled at her and she smiled cautiously back. He reached out and cupped her chin in his hand. “Christ, I'm not gonna bite you, Clio. You have to trust me.” With one eye on the road, he pulled her face towards his.
She turned her head so his kiss landed on her throat instead of her lips. He kissed her throat and inhaled.
“You smell like sugar cookies.”
She saw him blushing in the dark truck. A strip of light lit up his gray eyes.
“Is this all right?” He whispered.
Her head dipped almost imperceptibly with her nod and she took his hand. They drove in silence for a while, strangely comfortable in the other's presence. Streetlights spotted them as they drove and she listened to the rhythmic thumping of one bad road after another under the truck. His boyish face looked out of place under his reddish
“I hope Calliope is okay,” she finally said.
“She's a big girl, he's not so bad.” Crow’s attempt to sound convincing made her smile.
“Chad Swann,” she said. Her thoughts had run off with the memory of Annie with braces, acne, and a crew cut.
“How did you meet him?”
“It was a bad ‘80’s movie, nerdy guy spots beautiful girl putting up fliers for guitar lessons at a music store, and she takes on the challenge of turning him into a rock and roll stud.” She sighed at how much had changed. “He got dark, and then he got huge and famous, and dragged us along for the ride.”
“You didn't have to go along if you didn't want to.”
“No, I have to be with her, to make sure she's okay. We have only each other.”
They pulled up to a house in
“My grandma's kinda loaded, but I'm not. I mean, we don't get money from her,” He opened her door, “Come on, it's cool inside.”
At her hesitation, he said, “Don't worry, she's used to my friends looking like freaks, she's down with it.”
Inside the arched doorway, the Mediterranean style house was dark inside, but light poured in from the outside security lights. The entirety of the front room was furnished in expensive antiques. Crow was oblivious to the vast fortune his grandmother was literally sitting on.
He loped up the tiled staircase to put away the cash Annie had given him. Apparently, he didn't like having his pay at the shows.
Ribbons of moonlight streamed into a window in the antechamber and she saw the various antiques lying scattered about. Her eyes lit as her gaze fixated upon a 16th century
Crow's soft voice flowed down the stairwell from where he spoke in hushed whispers to his grandmother. She took off her backpack and sat at the spinet. She brushed the wood and put her head down close to smell the age. Her fingers danced across the tiny blue flowers on the worn yellow paint and she thought how familiar this was. She closed her eyes to see the harpsichord of her past, the gay little yellow spinet with the blue cornflowers painted on it.
From the stairwell, they sounded as though they might be coming down. Her eyes shot open and she sat up. Her gaze came to rest on the Greek bust sitting atop the spinet. Dull realization washed over her pale complexion and she pushed back on the harpsichord, slipping from the bench into a heap on the floor.
The marble bust with the high forehead, tiny nose, pointed little chin, and huge almond eyes were a perfect rendition of Clio's face.
Her hair stood at attention on the back of her neck and she began to perspire in little droplets on her top lip. She scrambled up and tried to pull herself together. In a tight grip, she yanked her stockings up, pulled the wool skirt down, and pushed a pink strand from her face. Her hand had somehow discovered the doorknob and she flew from the house.
Moments later, Crow opened the car door and stared at her before he got in. He sat a moment before he turned to where she sat in the passenger seat. “What was that all about?”
“What do you mean?”
“You disappeared.”
“I'm shy.”
“Shy,” he repeated, his eyebrow rose in a skeptical slant.
Clio's face burned and she turned away. Crow shrugged his shoulders and got on the freeway.
1 comment:
Nice... very cool chapter.
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