deadly nightshade | fever in, fever out

chapter 22: off to the races

"my old man is a bad man, but
i can't deny the way he holds my hand
and he grabs me, he has me by my heart.
he doesn't mind i have a las vegas past;
he doesn't mind i have a l.a. crass way about me;
he loves me, with every beat of his cocaine heart."
-"off to the races", lana del rey

She couldn't hardly shake the taste of Cliff's lips from her own for the whole rest of the day, nor could she rid the feeling of that bristling hair over his lip. Even after he had left her apartment, Sam kept on bringing a hand to her mouth to make sure it had actually happened. Even with the sips of coffee shortly thereafter, she could still taste him. She could smell him. She could feel him.
His essence followed her even when she strode into the neighborhood to pick up some things for breakfast and for the next week. It was official: she had a boyfriend. Or perhaps he wasn't. But if he kissed her, then surely that would mean boyfriend status. However, he never went any further than that kiss. He never said anything other than that last thing and thus the whole thing left her wanting more from him.
Even when she returned home, she considered calling him up and asking a little more from him. But then again, he was going to be in New York for the next day or so: she could wait on the call to him for at least a few days. With nothing else to do, and Anthrax having gone out of town, Sam was alone for the whole entire day with nothing more than her art journal and her own imagination. She wondered if she see those photographs from Aurora at some point as she doodled up a quick drawing of Charlie and Marla together. She tried to recall the direction of the sun on their heads as she sketched down Marla's hair.
Brighter orange, almost pale yellow, in the direction of the sun. Deeper, richer orange and scarlet on the underside. Of course there was the deeper shade of violet and royal blue for the streaks. She couldn't completely recall which way the sun was pointed at their backs all the while.
Then there was that boy Alex. The boy with the small stripe of gray in his hair. He was so elusive and so far away from her that she couldn't hardly tell if he was even a real boy. He felt more of a dream to her than the dreams she had had of Cliff. But there was that drawing she had started in that first journal.
She needed to fetch that journal from Frank's apartment, but she knew he had locked the door prior to leaving. If only there was a way inside because it felt like an itch she couldn't exactly scratch. If she redid it on another piece of paper, it wouldn't have the same look as the initial drawing. It was something that simply couldn't be repeated. She needed it at her finger tips: she needed to see him.
But first things first: this drawing of Charlie and Marla right in front of her, in all of their bright colors under the bath of sunlight. She pressed on with it even when the sun began to shine through her bedroom window, directly above her in a single column through the glass.
Sam stood to her feet and lifted the base of the window pane off of the sill, and she was greeted by the softest of spring breezes on her face. The air smelled sweeter in the wake of that kiss. She returned to her seat and the drawing in front of her. The glints of gold in Charlie's curls made her think of that gray stripe again.
Boys with stripes and different colors in their hair. They seemed so odd and yet she wanted more of them for herself. To know more of them. To connect with them.
But then there was Joey. The boy whom she owed a drawing to, something beyond those markings on his hands. She needed to go above and beyond with him.
So much to do and yet it felt as though she had hardly any time to do it. A whole month before things picked up again with the side of attending the short tour with Stormtroopers of Death, and it felt so short even when she thought about it.
Careful not to give it too much of a shadow, she lightly ran the dark burnt umber pencil all around both of Charlie's eyes. She had made his face a little too full near his chin and thus, she ran a bit more of the dark brown to slim him down and add a bit more shadow. He stared back at her from the paper, and even though she couldn't add too much of a glimmer to them, she did leave a tiny white speck in his pupils for just that tiniest bit of gloss against the soft sheet of bright sunshine behind them. She did the same for Marla's eyes as well. It almost looked as though she wore eyeliner but at least she wasn't about to turn into the school for the sake of getting in.
This was nothing more than her desire to draw a couple of friends who had become like her muses of sorts. Sam looked on at them for one last glance over before she signed her initials at the bottom of the page. The shape of Charlie's round jawline hovered around the real thing, as did the full tip of his nose and the bow in his lips. A soft glow from the sun lined the crown of his head. Meanwhile, Marla was as orange as a sunrise following a heavy storm.
She then nodded her head and she signed her initials right over Marla's shoulder.
She sighed through her nose. That other journal was downstairs and she needed to get it out of Frank's apartment. Indeed, she rubbed both of her temples with her fingertips. It was like an itch she couldn't exactly scratch. But she needed it to finish that drawing, to finish that thought, to finish the man of her dreams.
Sam climbed to her feet and she made her way over to her bedroom doorway, but then she hesitated there with her hands on the edges of the door frame. It was such a long shot and one contingent on mere chance. The chance that Frank left his place unlocked and it felt so unlikely and out of reach.
She fetched up a sigh and pressed on to the front door. That journal was needed more than anything.
Sam headed out of her place and she made her way down the stairs. She caught Emile's crown of black hair atop his head once she was halfway down.
"Emile!" she called out.
He turned his head: she could only make out the shape of his nose and his chin.
"Emile!" she called out again, and that time, she pressed on down the stairs to the landing. She moved quick enough to catch him before he did anything more. He turned around all the way and greeted her with a friendly smile.
"Miss Shelley! What's happenin'?"
"I—left something in Frank's apartment the other day," she explained at a careful pace as she chose her words. "Like, right before he left for their tour."
"And—what's that got to do with me?" Emile slipped a little keyring into his jeans pocket.
"Well, I figure since you're the landlord, I thought maybe you have the keys to all the rooms in this building."
"I do, actually." He paused for a moment. "You want me to break you into Frank's apartment," he said in a flat tone.
"If it's not too much trouble," she said as she shrugged of the shoulders.
"Well, I was headed out just now and I'm kinda runnin' late," he admitted, "but if it's something that belongs to you, and it's just gonna quick—"
"It'll only take me a few seconds," she interjected with a shake of her head.
"—I'd be happy to get ya in, though," he finished, nonplussed. Sam brought a hand to her chest and breathed out a sigh of relief.
"Oh, thank you, Emile!"
"I just have to fetch the big keyring," he continued with a raise of his finger. She watched him double back into his apartment for a few seconds. She didn't want him to be late, but at the same time, she could feel herself wanting to scratch that proverbial itch some more. Every second felt like a whole minute with him in there. But within time, he returned with a big silvery keyring loaded with a myriad of keys. He left the door ajar as he led her back down the corridor to Frank's apartment: prior to reaching the front door, Emile shuffled through the keys to ensure it was the right one. Sam held still behind him: she could hear the low, nondescript sounds of the pipes in the wall next to her as well as the low drone of someone's air conditioner running nearby. It was a nice day and yet one of her neighbors was running their air.
It was right there she felt a little more thankful for Emile and his helping hand.
Indeed, he stood before Frank's front door and unlocked it for her. He let the door swing open and then he held a hand out as a signal for her to go on inside. Sam wasted no time going inside, although she could feel him watching her as she made her way over to the couch: it felt so intrusive not hearing Frank's voice or feeling his presence there in the apartment. Careful not to bring too much attention to herself, she knelt down before the cushion on the far right side and she lifted it up. The journal remained there atop that smooth mesh covering.
She swiped off of there and she set the cushion back down in place. She was quick to return to Emile, who had turned away a bit to give her some privacy: he turned in her direction and showed her a smile.
"D'you find it?" he asked her.
"Yes!" she told him as she tucked the journal under her arm. "And thank you so much, Emile." Sam stepped out of the apartment and shut the door behind her, and Emile was quick to lock the door.
"Oh, y'know I'm more than happy to help," he admitted as he tucked the keys back into his jeans pocket.
"Sometimes I can't go for very long without my journal," she confessed as they returned down the corridor towards his apartment.
"I feel ya on that," he replied, "I'm havin' to finalize my divorce as quick as possible and it kinda blows."
"Aw!" Sam showed him a sympathetic look and he nodded his head at that.
"But I'll catch ya later, though, Miss," he told her, "don't stay up too late."
"You, too, Emile." He pressed onward to the front door. Sam watched him go, right outside to the bright afternoon sunlight as it shone down on his jet black hair, and then she glanced down at the journal in her hands. She held it to her chest for a moment before she returned upstairs to check on that unfinished drawing.
There he was.
It was definitely Cliff now that she had a second glimpse at it: those deep set eyes and those prominent features that poked out at her from the nothing. It was just her memory playing around with the vision of the dream. The blank space upon the crown of his head was pure white but it made sense: she needed to see his hair for herself.
She set the drawing of Charlie and Marla atop her dresser, and she lay the journal upon her desk so she could finish the drawing. No colored pencils this time around, just mere soft, dark graphite. He gazed back at her as the graphite took on the shape of his face and the crown of dark hair upon his head. He gazed back at her with fear laden inside of his eyes.
His fingers fanned out from his hand like the legs of a spider.
Someone had pushed him down to the ground and he needed a bit of help climbing back up to his feet.
At one point, she paused with her hand over the paper so she could look deep into his eyes. Something didn't feel right, and she had no idea how to describe it. Was it the way in which she drew his hand? Or the way his hair was shaped? Or perhaps he was missing something, like his hat.
That was it!
Careful not to smear the graphite, she sketched out the wide, dark brim of his hat right next to him. She then followed it up with the round shape of the crown as it rested on the ground upside down. Her memory was foggy as to whatever else resided within the dream, and in fact there was a lot of it she couldn't fully recall anymore now that it had long passed, but she still could feel and see the grand scheme of it as it were in her mind.
At one point, she held back for a good long look at the drawing and she let out a low whistle. She wondered if she let this original journal to the admissions office, would she have made her way into the school regardless of all else. All of the drawings she had made in this journal were from deep within her. They needed protecting from everything in the world.
Sam closed her eyes and she rested her hands flat on the desk in front of her. There was something in there, something that needed no explanation, something that needed a release.
The phone rang right then, and it jarred her eyes open. It rang again and she climbed to her feet without closing the journal first. She skidded into the next room; she nearly dropped the phone itself on the floor upon answering.
"Hello?" she said as she tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear.
"Sam Shelley?" She recognized that voice.
"This is her," she replied.
"I'm Bill, from the admissions office. I was just calling to say that the next step following admissions itself is to sign up for classes this coming fall and the sooner, the better."
"Oh, excellent!" Sam could hardly contain her excitement.
"Would you be willing to come in again on Friday?" he offered her. "Friday at three? It's the only slot I have open."
"I'd be happy to," she replied with a smile on her face.
"I'll just sign you up for a spot on here—" The sound of papers rustling caught her ear and she closed her eye at it. That became a sound associated with all that was good in the world.
"So I can just swing by the school and you can do that for me with me?" she asked him.
"Yup, just be here by three and I'll walk you right through it," he answered her as silence fell right behind him. "The spring term has already started so in order to get it in for the fall, it's imperative you be here soon."
"Okay! I'll write it down to remind myself." Her face began to ache from smiling so hard. "Thank you, Bill."
"You're very welcome, Miss Shelley!" he replied. "You have a good rest of your day."
They hung up in unison, and Sam leaned her back against the wall and fetched up a sigh. It was really happening. It was all about to happen for real for her.
She peered to her right to the kitchen window. It was a lovely day outside, and one that didn't warrant staying inside under the whir of the air conditioner. Add to this, she hadn't really gotten to know the neighborhood all too well given everything that had happened to her so far.
Sam doubled back to her bedroom to fetch her shoes and her sunglasses. She headed outside to the bright afternoon sunshine and the whiffs of blossoms from the nearby trees. She put on her sunglasses and she headed towards the sidewalk with her hands tucked into her pocket: she figured it would be best to have left her purse at home and thus she could feel her house key against her fingertips. The soft breeze kissed the crown of her head as she peered up at the New York skyline in front of her. The trees that lined the street were lush and green with life.
She reached the corner when a shiny brand new black car rolled up next to her: it pulled up right behind her and she staggered back a bit to give him some room. Confused, she peered over her shoulder, and she beheld the sight of those thick black curls upon his head and those dark lenses over his face. He showed her a pretty wave and she stopped right in her tracks on the sidewalk. She bowed down a bit to come eye to eye with him.
"Hey, what're you doing here?" she asked Joey. "I thought you guys were on tour!"
"Yeah, we still are!" he replied. "But we got a couple'a days off so I was able to get this car here and show it to ya." He yanked on the parking lever and he switched it off. Joey climbed out of the front seat and he showed her a big lopsided smile. Sam lifted her sunglasses for a better look at it: she noticed the black paint was actually a rich deep cherry red color that melted away into blackness depending on where the sunlight hit it.
"Brand new?" she asked him as he sidled up next to her.
"Brand new, my dear," he announced with a gesture to it. She glanced up at him as she lowered her sunglasses back over her face. "Bought it yesterday after our gig down in Philadelphia. I was able to get it fer a reasonable price and everything. It wasn't really a lot of money but it was sump'n, though."
"Every penny counts," she pointed out.
"Exactly!" His face lit up at the sound of that. "By the way—since we've got another day off before our next stop here in the City, what're you doin' right now?"
"Well, I was just taking a walk," she replied, and then she stopped right in her tracks. "Why? You wanna do something with me?"
"I owe you a trip upstate," he stated. "To Poughkeepsie and also out to Syracuse."
"You wanna take me all the way out to Syracuse?" She gaped at him, to which he shrugged his shoulders.
"Again, if you're not really doing anything more than your li'l walkie here," he repeated.
"I don't have my purse with me right now," she pointed out.
"That's okay—it's not like we'll be livin' the jetset life after all," he said. "If we want sump'n on the way out, I'll care for it. I've got a bit of money finally. Not much but it's sump'n, though. C'mon, we'll have fun! It'll just be you and me."
Sam nodded her head and she reached out for the passenger door handle. She climbed into the front seat there and she was greeted by that new car smell: the fresh, pristine deep red leather underneath her and the soft felt upon the floor beneath her feet. She fondled the arm rest under her left arm as Joey climbed into the seat next to her.
Sam peered over her shoulder to the small back space behind her: nothing more than a little strip of carpet which extended back to the hatch.
"No back seat," she remarked.
"Don't really need a back seat," he pointed out as he held onto the key.
"What if you have kids, though?" she teased him.
"I ain't gonna have kids, Sam—gonna tell you that right now. I'm too bone broke and I worry 'bout fucking them up with my nonsense, too. I've always felt better with animals anyway."
She nodded her head at that.
"Me, too," she replied. "Come to think of it, I'd rather care for a dog or a cat myself."
"A dog, a cat, or a horse," he pointed out as the car quietly returned to life.
"A horse?"
"A horse, a horse, of course, of course." That brought a laugh out of her. They rolled forward to the corner and Joey hung a right down the side street there.
Soon, they reached the freeway which was to take them back upstate, towards Poughkeepsie. They passed that spot where his old car ignited as though it was something that couldn't hurt them anymore.
"So what's your next show, you said?" she asked him at one point.
"Down in the City," he answered as he merged lanes towards the center divider. "It'll be the first of two nights, too."
"I should see you guys play," she remarked as she folded her hands across her lap.
"You totally should! I think Marla, Aurora, and Zelda are all comin', too—you ought to join us. It'll be a full on party."
"Aurora never told me about it, though," she pointed out.
"Probably hasn't been able to," he suggested. "She works real hard for us and for Jon, too—more diligent than me, if you can believe it. She's just totally relentless with it all."
They fell back into silence for a brief moment before Sam spoke up again.
"Are Metallica gonna be there?" she asked him.
"No idea to be honest," he confessed. They rounded a slight curve in the freeway and Sam made sight of a stretch of the Hudson River next to the pavement. Those cold blue waters swirled in cool silence next to them. She noticed the low hills looming all around them, the thick lush trees that made up the wilderness shielded them from the bright afternoon sun. The car was silent, even as the pavement roared underneath them and the air conditioner had a bit of a noisy fan. She nibbled on her bottom lip and she recalled the taste of Cliff on her skin.
She hadn't told a soul about what had happened that morning, and Emile gave her all the privacy one could ask for. But it was something that she needed to share with someone, especially given Metallica were so close to them. Sam leaned closer to him.
"Please don't tell anyone this," she begged him in a low enough voice for him to hear, and he moved in closer to her.
"What's that?"
She swallowed.
"It's kind of important," she added.
"What is it?" Joey knitted his eyebrows together and bowed his head forward so he could better hear her. Sam shifted her weight. She hadn't even told Aurora and Marla about the moment in her apartment, and now the words had already left her lips with Joey. At one point, he gazed on at her with intent: those big brown eyes swallowed her whole, like a pair of big black holes gaping back at her. She nibbled on her bottom lip.
"Cliff—kissed me," she said in the softest whisper. Joey froze and then he raised those eyebrows into his bangs.
"He kissed you?" he asked her with a bit of a break in his voice. She brought a finger to her lips.
"He kissed you," he repeated in a hushed whisper.
"Yes," she answered with a nod of her head.
"How'd he kiss you?"
"He—kissed me. He leaned in and put his lips onto my own."
"Wow," was all Joey could say right then.
"Yeah. I haven't told anyone about it, either."
"Until now," he said.
"Until now."
"So I oughta consider myself lucky then."
"Absolutely!" A rush of blood swarmed to her head and she could feel the warmth as it bloomed across her face.
"You know why else we should consider ourselves lucky?" he asked her in a broken voice.
"What's that?"
Joey gestured out of the windshield: she followed his gaze and she made out the sight of the low city skyline nestled in a small shallow bowl of a valley before them.
"The city by the river, my dearest Sam," he declared. "I hope we get to record a record up here at some point."
"Just go out to the wilderness here and play down by the river," she followed along as she nudged her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.
"I kinda wanna show you Syracuse now," he confessed as he merged lanes again. "That's just a straight shot that away." He pointed off to his left.
"Let's do it," she quipped.
"You wanna?"
"Yeah!"
They neared Poughkeepsie but Joey was quick to take the next exit onto the road to Syracuse. Everything was green and lush as they crossed the river: Sam peered out the windshield at the sight of the low dark mountains right outside of town.
"The Catskills, my dearest one," he declared. "The infamous Catskills."
It would be another few hours before they made sight of signs that guided them to Syracuse All the way there, Sam kept her eyes on all the lush greenery around them. She did not miss California in the least right then: she didn't even want to leave New York, either. It was all so quiet and so serene, and yet so chilling at the same time. A quiet place for nothing more and no one else than her and Joey. A quiet place within the quiet place.
At one point, she rolled down the window and she slipped her fingers out to feel the cool wind on her skin.
She knew the lake had to be near there: things were cooling off and dampening up with the setting sun in front of them. The shadows of the trees on the other side of the road stretched over them like a tapestry of dark splatter paint. It all felt so alien and yet so exciting: a place she needed to be at and a place she needed to be in forever.
They rounded a slight corner in the road and Joey held out his hand before him.
"Welcome to Syracuse!" he declared. Off in the distance, she made out the small sliver of blue that was Lake Ontario; but in front of them stood the short skyline: somewhere in there stood that inner city donut Joey had talked about before.
"So this is home," she said as the road widened out and Joey moved the visor over his head to protect himself from the low hanging sun.
"This is my home," he replied with that lopsided grin on his face. "I grew up 'round here and all my friends are either from here or 'Swaygo, where I was born. It's about an hour from here. I don't really wanna go that far out, though. Y'know, 'cause it's gonna be dark soon and neither of us have much money and whatnot."
"I'm starting to get hungry, too," she confessed.
"Yeah, I am, too. There's a place my old hockey team and I used to go to, up in the north side of town. It's not too far from a lake itself."
He led them into that donut shape of freeway near the inside of town. The buildings rose high over their heads, while off to the left, in the heart of town, there wasn't much to be seen. A hole in the earth.
Meanwhile, the pavement needed a bit of polishing up given every time they rolled over a small dent in the road, they bounced in their seats a bit.
"Easy now," she muttered as she held onto the bar over her head.
"Yeah, that's kinda the only drawback with this beastie," he said as he adjusted his fingers on the rim of the steering wheel. "It's kind of a bitch to go over the smallest of bumps, especially out here where they seem to be all over the streets."
They rounded the hole in the city, and the setting sun shone upon the side of his face: even from the side, Sam thought Joey resembled to a dark Indian chief right there in the seat next to her. All he needed was a war bonnet to crown his head.
Within time they reached North Syracuse, a cozier, more buttoned down part of the city and one that indeed, straddled a small lake. She wished to see Lake Ontario at some point, but it was something. It was something more than what she was used to out west. The glassy black waters loomed low in the thick green trees as Joey took the next exit to the heart of the borough. Even more lush green trees and ornamental cherries lined the streets as he led them towards the lake shore. Sam gasped at the sight of it as they rolled up to the stoplight. Right in front of them stood a small walkway and a low metal railing.
"The best part, ain't it?" he remarked with a befuddled look on his face.
"There's like hardly any lakes out in California or in Nevada," she confessed, "so this is like science fiction to me." He chuckled at that; the light turned green and they rolled forward to the vista point: off to the right stood the cafe in question. He hung a right and he took the spot closest to the railing. Eager, Sam climb out of the front seat and she hurried towards a piece of the railing. She closed her eyes and took in a big whiff of the fresh air from the lake.
She gazed out to the waters: beyond the far lake shore stood a low ridge lined with even more trees. She knew Lake Ontario was past that, as well as Joey's hometown. Everything was calm and still: the only sound came from the little birds nestled up in the trees and the small bit of traffic behind them. Everything smelled fresh and sweet with springtime.
"Wow," she breathed under her breath.
"Absolutely beautiful, ain't it?" he noted as he ambled up next to her. He folded his arms over the railing and showed her a little lopsided grin once again.
"I've never seen anything like it," she confessed: a small gust of cool lake wind sent a shiver down her spine and she huddled closer to Joey. He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets but he never shivered from the sensation. She turned to him and the cool reflection of the sky upon the dark lenses of his sunglasses: the shadows caressed over his brown eyes to make them look as though he had covered them up with dark lacy veils.
"I feel like I'm home here," she said in a soft voice.
"Well," he started, "welcome home, then. And I'd be more than happy to show ya around." He flashed her a little wink and put his arm around her.