deadly nightshade | fever in, fever out

chapter 29: venus as a boy

"he's exploring the taste of her
arousal so accurate
he sets off the beauty in her
he's venus, venus as a boy."
-"venus as a boy", björk

Sam locked the front door with one hand and Cliff lingered next to her. He had offered to hold her binder for her but she insisted that she could handle it: he adjusted the hat upon his head as well as his big black sunglasses. She slung a big heavy black canvas courier bag over her shoulder: she had loaded it full with her art supplies before she turned into bed the night before.
"Never seen that before," he noted as they headed down the stairs in unison.
"What, this bag?" she asked him.
"Yeah. It looks new."
"I got it before I moved here," she explained. "I'm always in need of something for my artistry. I have to give this its moment in the sun at some point, too."
Cliff reached the bottom of the stairs first and he awaited her as she followed suit right behind him.
"So art history first thing," he remarked as he held the front door for her.
"First thing in the morning, baby," she added as she adjusted her sunglasses before they stepped outside to the late summer early morning sun. It was a cool crisp day there in the Bronx, but one that didn't call for a sweater or anything to protect them from the bitter New York cold. However, Sam could feel it in her bones as they made their way over to the subway terminal.
Typical Monday morning in the heart of the Bronx: the train was chock full of passengers, but Cliff was willing to keep the space for them in the car closest to the front. He held onto the brim of his hat before he bowed inside behind her. She held onto the pole with her free hand and he held onto the rung over his head.
The train swayed underneath them, and such that Cliff almost lost his balance at one point. He caught himself on the pole at one point.
"If I fall asleep standing up, I want you to slap me across the face," he said to her as he gave his soft hair a toss back with a flick of his head.
"I'm not gonna slap you," she scoffed at the suggestion.
"But I want you to slap me, though."
"Slap him, girlfriend," a little old lady next to them chimed in, and they both laughed out at that.
It took them a full hour to reach the school; once they stepped inside of the front atrium, Sam took her schedule out of her jeans pocket for a check of the room number.
"This way, Cliff—" She gestured to their left, where they were met with a corridor with a smooth black and white checkered floor and a series of classrooms along the right side, right across from a long row of bay windows. If there was stained glass in lieu of the regular panes and if the ceiling rose up a bit higher, Sam imagined that wing of the school resembling to a church corridor.
He walked by her side down the corridor to her first class of the day. The heavy soles of his pointed toe boots pattered on the hard linoleum: even though a small crowd of people were in the hallway with them as well, she could hear his boots loud and clear, like a pair of Clydesdale hooves on the hard floor underneath them.
Her art history class stood at the far end, and she was taken aback by the door standing wide open to welcome her in for the first morning. She stood in the doorway with her binder pressed close to her chest: Cliff lingered behind her as they scanned the room before them.
Eight rows of long heavy wooden tables spread over the floor in front of them: most of them were empty, except for the one closest to the front of the room. A blonde girl wrapped in a Ramones shirt sat near the front: she kept her head bowed so her smooth golden blonde curls blanketed her face from view, even as Sam strode into the room and took a seat two away from her, right down in center so she could make eye contact with whoever taught the class.
"What do you think the teacher's gonna look like?" Cliff asked her in a low voice.
"No idea," she confessed as she took a glimpse down at her schedule again. She didn't recognize the last name, but she did recognize him once he stepped into the room with a binder and some papers tucked under his arm.
"Oh, hi, Bill," she said in a soft voice.
"Miss Shelley!" he declared with a twinkle in his eye. "I wasn't expecting to see you right now."
"I wasn't expecting to see you, either." He set his things down on the table right in front of her. He lifted his gaze to Cliff, who stood right behind her, complete with his long smooth hair over his shoulders and his wide brimmed hat upon the crown of his head.
"I like that hat," Bill told him with a gesture around his own head.
"That's like his signature look," Sam pointed out; she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, the blonde girl next to her lifting her attention from her book. Cliff stood out like a radio tower, even with no one else in there.
"I feel like a cowboy if I'm being perfectly frank," Cliff declared.
"Cowboy on his horse to help out his lady," the blonde girl interjected, and Sam laughed out loud at that.
"I don't have a horse, though," Cliff replied with a shrug of his shoulders. Bill turned his attention to the papers before him.
"Belinda Grimes, right?" he asked her, and she nodded her head at him. Sam eyed her smooth soft looking skin and it made her think of a doll. Her eyes lit up with a soft bright blue and her smooth lips made her think of ripe apples. Her fingers crept over the cover of her book, and Sam spotted a silver ring on her right index finger and a turquoise one on her pinky. She also wore a pendant in the shape of a king cobra around her neck.
"Oh, hey, Marla," Cliff spoke out of the blue. Sam looked past him and she recognized Marla's head of rich violet hair. Her face lit up at the sight of them right there.
"Hey, you two!" she greeted them; she turned her attention to Belinda two seats away from Sam. "And Bel!"
"You guys know each other?" Belinda gestured to Sam and Cliff as Marla stood before that middle seat and kept her hands upon the top of the chair.
"We know each other like you would a bunch of other friends," she replied, and she gave her violet hair a flick back. Sam noticed the dark circles under her eyes even with her head pointed away from her.
"Sam, this is my friend Belinda," Marla introduced her, "or Bel, as I like to call her. She lived down the street from me in Hell's Kitchen for a long time."
"I like your shirt," Sam told her.
"Thank you—they're probably my favorite band." Belinda showed her a shy little smile and a soft warm blush crossed her face.
"Sam hung out with Stormtroopers of Death all summer long," Marla told her. "You know, Charlie's little punky side project. She's even got some credits with them."
"Wow, I'm jealous," Belinda said as she tucked a curled lock of blonde hair behind her ear.
"It's been interesting," Sam remarked, "hanging with Stormtroopers and also Anthrax. And this big guy right here."
"Cliff, right?" Belinda asked him.
"Cliff from—" He held out a hand as if to lead her along.
"Hell's Kitchen," Bill echoed Marla, and the four of them burst out laughing. "And by the way, Sam?"
She raised her eyebrows at him.
"I need to talk to you about your being from out of state at some point today."
"Okay," she followed along, even though it didn't really make any sense to her because she believed she had figured it out before school even started.
"She gets special treatment?" Cliff asked him with a smirk on his face. A couple more people walked into the room right behind him.
"Somewhat."
Sam peered over her shoulder to the handful of people in the two rows behind them. Bill took a glimpse down at his wristwatch.
"We're almost about to start," he informed them.
"Kind of a small class," said Sam.
"It surprises me, too," Bill added in a low voice; Marla took a seat next to her and gave her violet hair another toss back from the side of her neck.
"I'll catch you later, Sam," Cliff whispered into her ear before he stepped back out to the hallway.
Even though that first day of class was only twenty minutes long in comparison to its hour length, Sam wondered what Bill wanted to talk to her about at some point. He handed out copies of their syllabus within time. A study of art from the early part of the Millennium and all the way through to the Middle East and Central America, and Sam would have to find a textbook for herself at some point that week.
"No Renaissance art?" Marla asked him at one point as he walked them through it.
"That's with the second level of history," he explained, and Marla turned to Sam.
"I envy you," she said in a hushed voice.
"Why not take it for the winter?" Sam suggested to her with a shrug of her shoulders.
"I'd have too full of a schedule for the winter," Marla explained. "It's already pretty loaded at the moment."
Sam tucked the orange sheet of paper into her binder: at some point, she would have to find some page protectors for all the important things such as that. He dismissed that small class, and thus she figured to get it out of the way. Sam stood up and leaned towards him.
"What did you want to talk to me about?" she asked him over Marla and Belinda talking to each other.
"Oh! Because you're from out of state, and well out of state to boot, there's a special scholarship for you. I'm thinking it can help you out at some point because—the more money you have, the merrier."
"I see." She paused and she rested her hands on her hips. "How do I get it?"
"You have to finish out your first year here at school," he started, "and then—when you fill out the credits needed, come back to me and I'll walk you right through it. I just wanted to tell you because you're one of thirteen students I'm counseling right now who hails from California."
"Oh, I see! I'll have to write that down when I get a chance. Thank you, Bill."
She picked up her binder and let Marla and Belinda through first. The former turned her attention to Sam.
"What's your next class, drawing?"
"Yes! That big three hour beast of a class."
"The two of us, too!" Belinda said as she adjusted the straps of her book bag.
"Belinda aided that class last summer," Marla explained. "Apparently, it's in a brand new room, so she knows the way better than I do."
Belinda led the two of them out to the corridor and towards the front door yet again: there was another corridor in front of them, and Sam made out the sight of stained glass windows that hung within those big bay windows. She and Marla stopped in place so they could look on at a round window suspended within their line of sight. It was about the size of a truck wheel and the royal blue glass shone in the morning sunlight, and Sam let her eyes wander along the shape of the trio of orange koi fish in between seaweed. The solders on the joints were a soft silver and as smooth as butter.
"That's freaking beautiful," Marla blurted out.
"It's stunning," Sam added; she pictured herself making a window for Anthrax's rehearsal space.
"Oh, yeah, glass class," Belinda said as she doubled back to them. "One of the classes I aided over the summer. That was a lot of fun to oversee, lemme tell you guys. All those physical arts are a baggle of fun, come to think of it." She pointed to a bright green one that hung two windows away from them. "I like this one."
"Oh, yeah!" Sam agreed with her as she lay eyes on the emerald green glass that surrounded the side portrait of a woman. She eyed the lush leaves that surrounded her, as well as the flowers in her hair. She thought back to that side drawing she made of Joey to get into the school, and she pictured it being brought to life with stained glass. The side of his face brought out from an art journal to an elaborate stained glass window, suspended in the school hallway, felt like something straight out of a dream given there was a lot about it to learn in the future.
Belinda then guided them further down the hall until they reached the end of the windows and a lefthand corner. The hallway ended in a vast room down below the floor: if Sam didn't know better, she swore it was a laboratory, except the dozen metal tables down on the floor were arranged in a circle. They descended the stairs and she could make out the sight of all the shelves that lined the walls: shelves crammed full of boxes, all of which were filled with things that ranged from soldering irons and pliers to pieces of paper, packets of glitter, and seemingly brand new bottles of glue. Once they reached the base of the stairs, a blast of cool air greeted them and Sam shivered at the sensation given it wasn't that cold out that morning.
"This was my sanctuary for the summer," Belinda told them as she led them towards the other side of the room, where a heavy wooden desk stood near the wall and an older woman wrapped in a light purple shawl leaned over a little wooden podium with a pencil in her hand. Sam eyed her short salt and pepper flyaway hair and she thought of that boy Alex and that tiny sliver over his forehead.
"This almost looks like a machine shop," said Marla. "More that than an art room."
"This was the machine shop for a long time," the woman replied in a scratchy voice once they came within earshot. She lifted her gaze to the three girls as they took their seats in front of her. "Oh, hi, Belinda."
"Hi, Miss Estes—I'm just not gonna leave this room," she joked as she set her things down on the table before her.
"That's the physical arts," she replied with a sly smirk. "It demands the hands and the body in a way that simply drawing can't do."
"So is this straight up drawing?" Sam asked Miss Estes.
"Yes, it is. I also teach the stained glass kids and also ceramics. Marla knows a thing or two about ceramics."
"It's so much fun," Marla told Sam. "You should take it in the next couple of terms, or at some point. You'll love it, Sam. I promise."
"Let's see—Marla Taylor and Belinda Grimes are both here—and what's your name?" Miss Estes pointed a pencil at her.
"Sam. Sam Shelley."
"Samantha Shelley," Miss Estes clarified as she scribbled something down.
"The Seashell," Belinda said. "I couldn't resist that."
"No, I like that," Sam told her with a chuckle. "I'm kinda surprised no one ever took that opportunity and threw that out at me."
"We get to draw a naked person starting next week," Miss Estes told them.
"Oh, boy," Marla quipped.
"Don't get too excited, Marla—it's going to be a woman."
"Even better," she joked, and Sam and Belinda laughed at that.
Within time, more people filled out the subterranean classroom and they were given yet another syllabus. She had the pencils and the erasers and everything she already needed, but one thing Sam didn't have was a large pad of paper to do that sort of lifelike drawing.
Lunch break followed by one more class, which she took without Marla and Belinda there next to her. She would have to go at the whole endeavor of academic writing solo, and she made a note to find that small textbook in question. It wasn't needed, but she knew she would have to get it to understand what was even happening during class time. By the middle of the afternoon, she returned back outside to the bright sunlight. At that point, the fatigue from driving the night before combined with a full day of school began to sink over her. All she wanted was to climb aboard the next subway and head on back up to the Bronx: she could worry about the textbooks and the pad of paper the next day on her time off.
But Cliff awaited her there at the front step.
"Hey," she greeted him, taken aback by the sight of him.
"Hey," he returned the favor: the sun shone down on the brim of his hat which in turn cast a shadow over his handsome face.
"Wasn't expecting to see you here," she confessed as she made her way down the steps. She turned her head to find Marla at the far end of the sidewalk: she climbed into Charlie's car and they drove away without a moment's hesitation.
"When I was looking at your schedule last night, I saw the release times," he said with a shrug. "I decided to hang out around this neighborhood and when the time came, I decided to come and join you back home."
"Oh, I see. Hey, at least you're not some random guy from the street telling me that."
"Exactly!"
"I gotta get a couple of textbooks plus a big drawing pad for my drawing class," she told him as they began down the sidewalk to the subway side by side. "I have tomorrow off, though, so I'll do it then. I just wanna go back to my place and chill for a bit."
"Sounds like a good idea," he added, "you look tired."
"All that driving last night, plus all that time on tour with Stormtroopers. I'm just gonna relish my down time, you know?"
"Oh, yeah. We always do. It's all fun and games until you're absolutely beat..." His voice trailed off, and Sam recognized the metal fence that surrounded the entrance to the terminal.
"While I was walking out of the school," he started, but then he stopped right in his tracks. Sam turned her head towards him.
"While you were walking out of the school?"
"I'm thinking I'm going to be a model for your drawing class," he confessed to her. "I decided to sign up for it."
"You ought to!" she said. "It'd be a nice li'l change of pace for you while you're staying here for the time being."
A woman on a bike rode past them and she waved at Sam, and it took her a moment to realize that was Belinda under the sparkling blue helmet.
"Oh, hey!" she called after her. "See you Wednesday!"
Belinda flashed her a thumbs up before she pedaled away from them.
"Who was that, mind me asking?" Cliff turned his attention to Sam.
"Belinda—longtime friend to Marla. Literally, another girl from Hell's Kitchen. She's like a lighter version of Zelda in that she's kinda tomboyish. She strikes me as being a little more girlish, though, you know, she's not so brutish."
"All the 'ish' in that sentence," Cliff cracked as they reached the steps.
Another hour ride home up to the Bronx and Sam was quick to collapse on the couch.
"It was a good day, though," she pointed out as Cliff shut the front door behind him. "The three of us saw a bunch of these stained glass windows in the hall on the way to our drawing class. You should've seen these, Cliff—there was this round blue one with koi fish in it. Just the way the sun shone on it... it was unreal. And then Belinda showed us this big beautiful green one. It's such a big lush world."
He was silent and she lifted her head to see where he had gone to. She rolled her head over the cushion and let her eyes wander to the vase of yellow tulips before her.
"Cliff?" she called out. Sam sat upright and swung her legs over the edge of the cushion. He had disappeared. She glanced behind her to the kitchen and there he was without his hat.
Cliff stripped off his shirt and exposed his smooth chest at first. He let the sleeves fall down his arms towards his hands.
"What're you doing?" she demanded with a chuckle.
"Practicing for a pose in front of your class." Sam then burst out laughing, and she rounded the corner just in time for him to drop his pants to the linoleum.
"I just realized something," she said.
"What's that?"
"You—You're going to pose right in front of me," she sputtered.
"Right in front of you, really?" he laughed at that.
"Yeah, I'm sitting close to the middle of the room," she explained, "well, we're all sitting in the middle of the room, so no matter where we sit, you're gonna be right in front of me when it happens."
"Want me to shake my hips while I'm doing it, too?"
"If you want. I'm probably gonna get a faceful of ass for the first lifelike drawing so if and when you do that—you pose for us—it'll be up to you as to what you wanna do for that day. Or maybe Miss Estes will have another suggestion for the day, I dunno."
He ran his fingers through his soft hair and she glanced over his long and lanky body. Nice sinewy long legs and shapely hips, slim in the waist and deep in the chest, and strong in the arms. Like a statue of Venus that stood before her.
For a split second, she imagined Joey doing the exact same thing for her.
He dropped his underwear and she raised her eyebrows at what she saw before her.
"Sit tight, I'm gonna get my journal," she told him with a raise of her finger. "I'm just gonna get in the mood for that right now with you—like this already. Getting in the mood for a lifelike drawing of Cliff before it even happens."
She headed out of the kitchen when a knock on the door caught her attention. She opened the door and recognized that helmet of lush dark hair about his head and that smile full of star's teeth.
"Oh, hi, Frankie!" she greeted him, and she lowered her gaze to the stack of papers in his left hand.
"I checked the mail yesterday," he explained, "but since you weren't able to get home until late last night—and you also had school this morning—I haven't been able to give you this. It wound up in my mailbox by accident." He handed her a red envelope, which made her think of the red envelope from Legacy the night before.
"Oh, I got something like this just last night when we got home," she replied as she took the envelope for a look herself.
"I guess it's something else, though," Frank answered with a shrug of his shoulders. Sam turned it over and opened the flap to find a series of photographs inside, plus a sheet of paper.
"Oh, yeah, this is something totally different," she told him. "Thank you, Frankie."
"My pleasure!" He lifted his gaze to the room behind her. "Hey, Cliff—" And he began laughing. Sam turned around to find him reaching for the vase of tulips. Cliff held it before his thighs to protect himself from view.
"It's not what it looks like," he told Frank.
"Sure about that?" he joked.
"Positive," Sam assured him as she shut the door. She turned back to him. "What're you doing?"
"I was just gonna ask you if you had any clean towels or a bathrobe," he answered, nonplussed despite his holding a vase of yellow tulips before him.
"I have towels," she told him as she set the red envelope down on the coffee table. "Just—sit tight, and I'll get it for you. I promise."
She headed into the bathroom for a clean dark red towel for him, and she returned to find him looking at a something about the size of a postage stamp. He showed it to her and she recognized the face inside.
"That boy, Alex?" she asked him.
"Yeah, you can see his stripe in there," Cliff explained with a tap of his finger. "I remember types of pictures like this from a few years ago—it's actually a place holder photo for a new fan club. But look at this boy, though. Look at this handsome little devil."
Sam traded him the photograph for the towel and he put it around his waist before he headed into the safety of the kitchen.
Meanwhile, she took a glimpse down at the envelope and then she held the photo closer to her chest for a moment. Handsome little devil indeed. Those deep eyes stared back at her, as if he coaxed her closer to her. That little pearl of white against a head of black.
But she would have to delve through it at a later point. She had a man to draw for herself.