deadly nightshade | fever in, fever out

chapter 46: the man in the mirror

Joey touched her hand yet again but that time he handed her the gloves he had tried to give her before. The heavy rough fabric brushed against her palm such that it tickled her.
"Put these on," he told her, "they'll protect your palms in particular. Here—I hold the stick for ya."
Sam traded with him as they stood still on the ice: she slipped on the glove onto her right hand and then she followed with the left hand. He then handed her the stick, but he peered down at his wristwatch again.
"We're almost getting down to the wire in here," he told her, "it closes at five. And even though it's Friday, I still wanna get ya home before it gets too dark out."
Sam flexed her fingers inside of the gloves. They felt as though they were made just for her hands.
"You can keep those, by the way," he told her as he spread his legs and extended the hockey stick before him.
"You sure?" She was taken aback by that.
"Oh, yeah. They're too small for my hands, and I have a couple of other pairs back home, anyways."
"I can see you cutting up a pair of gloves and making a quilt somehow," she confessed as she kept her eye on the hockey stick before him.
"Grind, rail, and cut it up?" he asked her, complete with a grin on his face.
"Grind, rail, and cut it up, yes!" she laughed out loud, such that it filled out the whole rink. Joey guided her back to the fence around the rink, and he let her onto the hard floor first.
"You got the guards nearby?" He let out a low whistle.
"Right here—" She set down the hockey stick, and then she put one foot up and stuck the first one on the blade, and followed up with the other one.
"You're a natural," he remarked as he stepped onto the solid ground and followed suit with the guards. Joey put the stick across his shoulders as if he carried in jugs of water for them.
"Kinda dying of thirst right now," she told him.
"Yeah, me, too," he said. "Let's go to the cafe around the corner, unless you wanna go somewhere else."
"Nah, let's go ahead in there."
"You sure you wanna go there?" he asked her.
"Positive."
"You sure you wanna do that?"
"Yes!"
"You sure?"
"Yes! Yes! Oh, god, oh please yes! Yes, Joey! I want it!"
He clapped his hands. "That's what I wanted to hear!"
They both laughed and headed back outside. A bit of darkness and some deep violet clouds had swept over North Syracuse, and the cold lake effect rain was beckoning over their heads. Joey offered to put their things in the back seat of the car, and then they headed up the sidewalk to the little shop around the corner. She recognized those five heads of solid black hair against the impending darkness.
"Hey, Chuck," Sam greeted him, and Legacy turned around to greet them. Eric showed them a big grin.
"Hey, little Sammich," Chuck said with one arm around her.
"Sammich?" she giggled, and Louie joined in on her other side.
"Sweet and tasty like a little sammich," Chuck added. She turned her attention to Louie to her right. He nudged a fine piece of smooth black hair out from his eyes and even in the dim light, she could make out the pain in his face.
"How are you?" she asked him.
"Doing alright," he replied in a low voice, "nice to be back in California, I'll say that."
"Lou's tough," Chuck assured her. "He's got a drum kit and we hopefully have a record deal under our belt now. Three years of fighting the club promoters—"
"And school," Alex chimed in from right behind him.
"—and school, too," Chuck continued. "But I think we got it. Although Eric is the one who formed the band after all, I'm still kind of the new guy—I just overheard it from Aurora and Jon."
"Sounds like me," Joey blurted out right there. "I never know what's going on."
"Aw, man! You're my fellow Indian brother, too. I wanna see you rock it, Joey."
"Let's go inside, though—I'm dying of thirst," Eric quipped as he opened the door in front of them. She was greeted by the warm aroma of coffee coupled with donuts and bread. Joey lingered at the door even though Sam huddled with the five men there in the warm little shop. Chuck had his arm around her the whole time they asked for cups of coffee; meanwhile, Louie lingered right to her. These five men who had been in the background up to that point all congregated around her as if they were her best friends.
"Our first fan club member," Greg said with a gesture to her as the barista backed to the counter behind her for something.
"That's right!" Eric recalled.
"Hey, Joey, you want anything?" Alex called from behind them; Sam couldn't hear him there at the door.
"Any perks so far?" she asked Chuck.
"Oh, yes, but—we'll keep you posted, though. Just 'cause, you know. Everything that's happened so far." He turned his head and they watched Eric take his wallet out of his jeans pocket.
"Eric's got it," said Louie.
"Where's Joey and Alex?" Greg asked.
"They—" Sam was cut off by Joey shouting outside. They all turned to the front door: Joey was shouting something at Alex.
"What the hell?" Eric stammered.
"Oh, jeez..." Chuck let go of Sam and he hurried to the door. Eric continued to pay, but the five of them hurried outside. Alex backed up to a patch of grass next door to the shop.
"Joey!" Chuck shouted, but it was too late.
Joey shoved Alex to the patch of grass and everyone gasped at that. The bottom of his shirt lifted up and revealed a part of his soft stomach but before he could fix himself, Joey shoved him down to the grass again.
"Joey!" Sam shrieked.
"Hey, take it easy, man!" Alex yelped. "I don't want any trouble."
"Joe, he's still just a child, let him go!" Chuck joined in.
"My ass on his head," he sneered. "He's not a child, Chuck, he's eighteen—" And he stared down at the young man laying on the grass. Alex gazed up at Joey, and the street light shone on the side of his oval face to where it resembled to a little full moon. The pearl of gray over his forehead looked to be growing, or maybe it was just Sam's imagination tricking her given the sun shone upon his whole crown of black hair. His full lips were smooth and the tip of his nose seemed to have a sharp point to it. He was like the Jewish version of Joey, especially with the black curls.
Joey himself pressed his hands to his hips as he stood over Alex's body.
"You wanna repeat that?" he demanded.
"It's—It's—It's not a bad thing," Alex sputtered as he lifted his hands up. "I don't want any trouble, man, come on!"
"Joey, don't do this to him," said Sam with a wave of her hand; she ran up to him.
"Yeah, man, calm down," Eric joined in.
"I am trying to learn guitar, you little twerp," Joey scoffed. "Judgey little twerp."
"You got all the time in the world, though," Alex pointed out, "come on, man—I don't wanna fight!"
"Joey, come on!" Sam lunged for him.
"I don't," Joey said with his hand still raised, but she yanked him away from Alex, and Eric and Chuck helped him up from the grass. Sam led Joey away from there and they rounded the far corner so they were out of earshot.
"Ow—ow, ow, ow! You're hurting me!" Sam then whirled around and clasped onto his shoulders.
"Leave him alone," she scolded him. "Don't ever do that again, you understand me?"
"Yes, ma'am, of course." He knitted his eyebrows when he said that, as if it hurt him to say that. Indeed, she noticed the wounded look on his face. She relaxed her grip on his shoulders, and slid her hands down his arms.
"Joey—is there something you want to tell me?"
He shifted his weight. There were so many things that he had on his shoulders and yet she wondered how many people even listened to them in the past.
"It's okay," she assured him in a gentle voice. "If there's one thing I can take away from being with Cliff, it's that dudes are bad with emotions."
"Yeah, we are. Especially me."
"But it's okay, though," she persisted as she caressed the upper part of his arms. "You can tell me. And I'll tell you what—you can tell me anything."
Joey shifted his weight and closed his eyes. But she stayed still and she allowed her fingers to do the talking with him. He then sighed through his nose, and he shook his head.
"I'm sorry, it's just—" he began in a low voice, "—kind of a wound of mine. I keep getting pushed into doing that. I keep getting forced into that."
"What, into learning a new instrument?" she asked him; she stifled a chuckle because it sounded so absurd to her.
"Yes."
"Why'd you freak out then?" she demanded.
"Because it's—it's kind of a touchy issue for me."
"Why?" she asked as she set a hand on his shoulder.
"I always feel like I can do it but when I actually do it, I can't. It's like my hands and my brain don't really match up." He then lifted his gaze to her. "But I do have rhythm, though."
"You've got the rhythm within you so well!" she declared.
"Well, I'm just here to have a good time, too," he continued. "I wanna have fun. If I ain't havin' fun, nobody is."
"Well—who's to say Alex doesn't have fun, though?" she pointed out.
"I dunno—the kid's eighteen and yet he acts like he's twice that age. Too serious. When I was eighteen, I was goin' around clubs in upstate New York and bangin'. The drums of course."
"Riiiight," she teased him, and that brought a laugh out of him.
"But—yeah. I was going out and having fun in life 'cause I realized I was an adult and I could do whatever I wanted. He's too serious."
"He's—studious, I would say," Sam corrected him. "Nothing to get worked up over, though, Joey. I promise to you."
"I hope you're right," he said. "But anyway, let's get ourselves a couple of drinks, what do you say?"
"As long as it's not alcoholic," she pointed out.
"Of course, of course! I mean, it's a coffee house. It ain't gonna be alcoholic." He then put his arms around her and she rested her chin on his shoulder. "I also can't believe I wasn't able to get to know Cliff more," he whispered right into her ear.
She sighed through her nose.
"I can't believe all of you didn't, either," she replied back, also in a whisper. They let go but she kept a hand on his back as they walked back to the restaurant. Alex stood there outside the front door with a wounded look on his face. It was hard to even be mad at him because he wanted Joey to do better. He looked on at Sam as if he was ready to burst into tears right there; he brought a hand to his chest as if something hurt him.
"Please tell your boyfriend to take it easy on me," he grumbled as he brushed off his chest. And then he glared past her to Joey. "Seeing as I'm just a child and all."
"Hey, don't push it with me, you little shit," Joey threatened him, and Sam put herself between in them.
"Alright, that's enough," she told him in a firm voice; she looked back at Alex and the cold, serious look on his face. She could only assume that same agony with him, especially since she heard it from his mouth when he sat there on the step with Lars. "Okay, we're all hurting right now because tour life sucks and according to Frankie, most of you didn't really get the time to grieve over Cliff. But do what you have to do without wanting to kill each other, though. You can do it. Every last one of you can do it."
"Do it and then kill each other," Joey said in a singsong voice; she knew he was joking but it wasn't the best time for that.
"I said that's enough," she spat at him through gritted teeth, and Joey pursed his lips together. She then turned to Alex, who scowled at the both of them. Beyond him stood Legacy's white van posted at the street corner. She spotted Greg and Louie both climbing into the back section: the former had a pair of coffee cups in hand. "You better get going—your van's leaving. Or, they might just be going where it's warm. I dunno what's going on." He stared at her with those cold, deep eyes: she swore the sliver over his forehead changed colors upon his change in mood. He glared at Joey, who kept his hands pressed to his hips as if he threatened him with something more, and he returned to Sam with a slight raise of his dark eyebrows. It was only for a split second, but his face softened right there for her.
He nodded at her and then he doubled back to the corner. She watched his long black curls trail behind him like the arms of an octopus. He said it himself, he didn't want any trouble. Joey didn't, either, but the trouble was too deep with him.
"What the hell is his problem?" Joey fumed once Alex was out of earshot.
"He's a young smart guy who just turned eighteen and just got out of school," Sam explained, curt.
"Why are you defending him?"
"I'm not. Joey, I'm here to help you deal with the problems you have, not babysit you or fix you. And it starts with you dropping this moody horse shit and being nicer to him. Alex might be legally an adult, but he's still a teenager, and a teen who lives at home. You're always kind to fans and you're kind to me—why can't you be nice to him?"
Joey folded his arms across his chest and then Sam rolled her eyes at him. The man who taught her to be assertive needed a bit of nudging himself. He was so sweet to her on the hockey rink but this was something totally different than what she was used to seeing. She nibbled on her bottom lip as she searched for the right words. He was there for a good time, but he didn't seem like it at that point.
"Figure it out for yourself," she ordered him, albeit with a bit of a shake to her voice. "I'm getting something to drink." She then strode away from there with her head held high because she nudged Joey into himself.
But then she realized she nudged him into himself.
"I'm jealous," he blurted out, and his upstate accent echoed over the pavement. She stopped and turned back to face him.
"You're jealous?" she repeated, to which he nodded. "Of who? Alex?"
Joey nibbled on his bottom lip and then he scurried over to her even though the van had disappeared. And thus he could talk to her.
"Yes," he confessed.
"Why are you jealous of him?" she asked him.
"Because..." He hesitated.
"Because why?"
Joey held still. Sam folded her arms across her chest.
"Because why, Joey?"
"He's—younger," he stammered, and she fetched up a sigh. "He's a younger reflection of me."
"Of you?"
"Yeah."
"Joey, there's only one you," she pointed out, and she took a glimpse at the window next to them. The reflection of the two kids in the window pane. "There's only one you and only one Alex. No need to feel jealous."
Eric and Chuck emerged from the shop right then with cups in hand. They both showed her smiles.
"Where you fellas going?" she asked them.
"The Zazulas' place," Eric told her as he nudged a curled ringlet behind his ear. "Just spent all my money, gotta work it back now."
"I'm driving, too," Chuck added with a beaming smile. "I hope we can see each other tomorrow."
"Drive safe, though," she advised them, "and me, too! I want to see more of you guys." And they both gave her a hug before they turned to Joey.
"Don't go nuts," she heard Chuck whisper to him.
Joey then turned to her and he opened the door for her. They were greeted by a pair of paper cups on the counter in anticipation for them. He was silent until he thanked the barista for it.
"It's one year of Spreading already, holy wow," he muttered as he raised the cup.
"To Spreading," she announced as she brought her cup towards his, and they made a toast, and drank down that warm, fresh macchiato in unison.
"I have a suggestion," he said as he held the cup before his chest.
"What's up?"
"You're always letting me come back to your place and it's kind of a hard thing to do for me, just 'cause it's a lot of driving, you know? Why don't you come back home with me?"
"I need my stuff, though," she pointed out. "Like my clothes and my journal."
Joey shook his head.
"It's alright, I can take care of ya," he assured her. "And I wanna make it up to you, too. I've been a jerk lately. I wanna make it right. I pushed a kid, for god's sake..."
He was a hockey player and somewhere in there lingered a strong voice, a strong good man. All he needed was patience and someone to listen. Sam knew she wasn't going to fix him, but she could still serve as a shoulder to lean on for the night, if not the weekend. She could finally be his friend for a little while.