souls of black | fever in, fever out

chapter 107: nightshade, hemlock, mistletoe, and oleanders

"you raise up your head and you ask, 'is this where it is?'
and somebody points to you and says, 'it's his',
and you say, 'what's mine?' and somebody else says, 'well, what is?'
and you say, 'oh my god, am I here all alone?'
but something is happening and you don't know what it is,
do you, mr. jones?"
-"ballad of a thin man", bob dylan

At some point, during Sam's absence, Scott had spoke with Charlie over the phone over the course of a few days. Apparently, the marriage was on its last legs while neither of them paid any attention whatsoever. It all happened in one fell swoop and without a shred of remorse to boot: he was asked to leave and move somewhere else in Queens. Scott ran his finger over the rim of his water glass and propped up the side of his head in the palm of his hand. Every so often, he took a glimpse up towards the front door of the restaurant: near there was a nook in the wall in which the maitre d' suggested they keep their instruments safe at.
"How you feeling in the meantime?" Belinda kindly asked him.
"Like I'm ready to just—faint," he confessed. "I thought Marge was it for me. Like there was no one else for me in the world." He sighed through his nose and Belinda reached over for a pat on his shoulder. He showed her a friendly little smile, albeit a sad one.
Sam and Joey sat right across from the two of them there at the table. She glanced over at him and he raised his eyebrows at her.
"I'm sorry I hit you," she told him, to which he shook his head.
"It's okay—if anything, I deserved both of those," he assured her. "I've had far worse injuries, too, playing hockey and whatnot. I'd get hit with pucks and smacked with sticks—you don't walk away from a hockey rink to be a full time musician and not have problems with your teeth." He showed her another lopsided little smile and she returned the favor. "So you're down—where?"
"Santa Catalina Island. Twenty two miles off the coast. But then again, I still have a place in New York City. You know, the apartment in Hell's Kitchen."
"It's an island, though," Joey pointed out. "An island, Sam! You're currently based off of an island." He then bowed his head and cocked his mouth to the side. "Not to brag or anything," he started again, that time in a false pompous accent, "but due to the amount of wealth I've gotten, I can buy an island at no rhyme or reason at 'tall!"
She burst out laughing at that, and she had forgotten that Scott and Belinda were still right there across from them. She turned to them right as he fetched up a sigh and looked away from them, and thus she stopped right in her tracks. Sam returned to Joey as a result: he ran his fingers through his inky black curls and he tilted his head back a bit so as to show off a bit of his throat and his Adam's apple. Not as prominent or sharp as Alex's, but still one for her to look at for a little more than a few seconds.
He then gave his hair a little toss and he turned his head to the side, and he showed her his side profile. She had left her journal back on Catalina, but at least she knew she was headed back there soon enough.
"You know what I feel like doin'?" he asked her.
"What's that?"
He glanced over at the far side of the restaurant, past the front room and to the doors next to that big front bay window.
"You have to use the bathroom?" she asked him, and he returned to her with a smirk on his face. "Oh, no, Joey."
"What? Why not?"
"I'm not going into the men's room with you."
"I never said we were goin' into the men's room," he pointed out, "but I do wanna—" He gestured to her body and he showed her that smirk once again.
"Well, we can't really do it in this place, though."
"We can go outside," he suggested.
"It'd be cold, though."
"Nonsense. If it's cold, it gets the girls nice and pointy and it gets the channel below the equator nice and damp, too."
"Here's a challenge for you," she started with a raise of her finger.
"Okay. I'm up for a challenge. I'm an athlete, thus I'm always up for a challenge."
"You go over to that woman whom you've just met and break it off with her 'cause I'm bored."
He raised his eyebrows at her.
"Joey, if you really feel things with me, I want you to prove it."
He never moved or said anything.
"I want you to prove it and that I'm not just another fuck toy to you," she continued.
Without any moment's hesitation, he clasped his hands on either side of her face and kissed her right on the lips. Those soft dark lips as smooth as molten chocolate. Right in front of everyone. Right in front of Scott and Belinda.
"Jesus, Joe," he remarked with a chuckle.
"Yeah, Sam!" she declared to which she clapped her hands. Sam brought her hands down to his slender knees as they lingered close to her own. She was so close to the space between his thighs, so close to his belt, such that she could let her fingers find their way there.
But she kept her fingers upon those delicate knobby knees, right upon that snug rich black denim. Joey let his tongue slither right into her mouth a little bit: such a strange feeling to feel him inside of her mouth once again. His grip on either side of her face was soft and he slid his body closer to her. Even only a few inches between them and she could feel his warmth.
For a fleeting moment, she thought about when Alex leaned his body against her own back at the house on Catalina as he climbed out of that stool. But this was a different warmth, a different feeling. The softness and slim gentleness of Joey.
"French it up, why don't ya, Joseph?" Scott cracked. Sam squeezed Joey's knees as she slipped her tongue into his mouth a little bit for a taste.
Belinda whispered something to Scott, and he chuckled at that.
Sam then let go of his mouth and she gazed right into his big brown eyes as if she stared into her own. She then ran her fingers through his black curls and he closed his eyes. His curls, while soft and clean, felt a lot more coarse than usual. Coarse and fuzzy with the dryness that surrounded them there in California, the dryness despite the marine layer overhead and the rainfall from the night before.
She could smell him again on her clothes. She knew that she would never forget the taste of him on her lips and her tongue. She caressed the side of his face and she kept her eyes locked onto those soft brown irises as they swallowed her whole. As dark and full as the bottom of the ocean. As venomous as the very deadly nightshade he crawled out from onto the cold earth around them.
He parted those dark lips as he was about to say something, but no sound came out.
"Hey, love birds," Scott called out to them, and they both broke out of it, and they turned their attention over to the waiter who brought the four of them their drinks to kick things off. Sam picked up her glass of lemonade and took a quick large sip of it; Joey blew on the surface of his coffee before he took a drink.
"You're not even gonna add sugar to it?" Belinda asked with an unsure chuckle. Sam turned her attention to Scott as he held his mug of Irish coffee to his mouth.
"Doesn't need sugar," he assured her with a shake of his head. "It's already got the whole package." He took a sip with his eyes closed.
"I've had Irish coffee before," Sam recalled. "How is it?"
"Damn rich," Scott replied, and he coughed. "Whoa. That'll put some hair on the chest."
"Right back in where you shaved the word 'not' in?" Joey teased him, and Belinda laughed at that.
"Yes, Joey!" Scott laughed along with her.
"Wow!" Chuck's voice carried in right there, and the four of them turned their attention to the left side of the room. He stepped into the room at that moment and he showed off a big sheet of thick paper to them. It was a drawing of him with his arms curled out before him and his head bowed a bit. All along his arms were jagged points, all done in big bold but soft colors.
"Holy shit," Scott declared.
"Beautiful, Chuck—" Belinda said, and her voice trailed off at the sight of it.
"It's all crystals," he said, "at least that's according to Marla."
"Marla made you that?" Sam asked him.
"Yeah, I was just gonna say, that looks like her style," Belinda added.
Sam turned her attention to Joey.
"I left my journal on Catalina," she admitted to him with a shrug of her shoulders.
"Damn. I really wanted to see what kind of art you've been up to lately."
"It's been—I want to say autobiographical. On the next boat ride over, I'll make a note to show you."
"Next boat ride over to visit yo' mama," Joey cracked as he took a sip of his black coffee.
"Visit Joe Mama?" she joked.
"Visit Joe Mama, exactly!" He drank down a bit more of his coffee before Scott passed that drawing of Chuck over to them for a better look. Marla had sketched him out with some bright pink colored pencil and then she outlined him with thick lines of black ink, while the crystals where shaded in with those fine points. Down at the bottom of the page, she had signed her name "Marla Taylor" in large curly penmanship.
"Who needs to buy someone something when you can make 'em?" Sam proclaimed.
"Right, right," Joey said as he took yet another drink of coffee. He still hadn't let things go with Testament, but she dared not let that interfere with her appreciation of her best friend's artistry. Those clean lines and Sam wanted to make some more pieces of art, all for Testament themselves. But she knew that someone on their end would recognize it, especially if she did something as obvious as sign her initials at the very bottom. Something more, something different.
An eager Chuck returned to them to fetch that piece of drawing and Joey then tapped on Sam's shoulder.
"Come with me," he whispered into her ear, even though she was hungry and she wanted to stay there to see what Scott had in mind for brunch. But Joey insisted, and thus she followed him over to the bathrooms. They passed under a sprig of mistletoe pinned up to the wall over the entrance to the front of the restaurant; it was there she stopped right in her tracks when she realized where he was taking her.
"Joey, we're not doing it in the bathroom," she scoffed.
"We won't," he assured her; instead, he took her hand and he led her to that narrow hallway which led to the bathrooms. He kept on walking past the men's room and to the narrow little nook right around the corner from there. He pressed his back to the wall and he unzipped his little black leather jacket, and he showed off his chest to her.
"Oh, I see," she breathed.
"Yeah—c'mon, Sam I am," he begged her, to which he slid down the wall a bit so he was eye to eye with her.
"Where do you—um, want me to start?" she asked him.
"I'll start things off, actually," he told her and he lunged for the button on her jeans. Sam held still with her legs spread out as he undid it for her. Butterflies danced about in her stomach as he ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth. He had such a fierce twinkle in his eyes: they shone brighter than the fire opals on her bracelet.
He brought his dark lips to the little bit of skin right under her belly button, to which she gasped at the feeling.
"Oh—!"
"Yeah," he growled as he gave her another kiss there. She realized that he was going all the way down from her waist to what lay below. She had given it to him while in England and so it made sense that he returned the favor to her. His lips were warm and silken, and far more than the feeling of molten chocolate.
"Joey?" a woman's voice caught them both off guard.
He stopped. Sam froze in her tracks. He lifted his head and he fixed her jeans, but he never buttoned them back up again.
"What're you doing?" Sam demanded.
"What're you doing?" the woman laughed, and he clambered to his feet. He ran his fingers through his black curls and stood right before Sam so she wouldn't have to see her. The woman chuckled at him.
Sam peeked out from behind him to the woman across from them. She was about Joey's height, but she had a full head of frizzy but neat golden blonde hair down past her shoulders. She did in fact look older than Sam herself, but not too much older: her milky white skin had not a single blemish or crease on it, but her deep eyes aged her more than a piece of gray hair ever would for her. She was slender but with that classic hourglass figure, much like a model: it also didn't help matters that she wore big black stiletto heels on her feet to go with her fitted dark denim jeans.
"What're you doing?" she asked him with another chuckle.
"She—" Joey gestured back to Sam. "—had a spot on her jeans and I was just—checking it."
She froze and she looked back at Sam, whose mouth had gone completely dry and whose mind had gone completely blank. Nothing to say and nowhere to begin. The woman then chuckled again, and then she shook her head.
"You're funny!" she told him, and he sank down a bit so she could Sam in full for herself.
"Krista, this is Sam—better known as Sam I am."
"Sam I am?" Krista echoed him.
"Also known as Sammich, Samantha, and—my personal favorite—Sam hill."
"Sam—this is—this is Krista," he sputtered. "My new friend."
"Friend?" she demanded from him. She gaped at him complete with a raise of her eyebrows.
"Y-Yes," Joey stammered; even with his sun kissed skin, the blush in his face was all too obvious. Krista flashed her an unsure smile and she shrugged in response. He cleared his throat once, twice, four times and he bowed away from them so they wouldn't have to see his face; Sam lingered closer to him.
"H-H-How'd you know I was back here?" he stammered some more to her.
"Scott told me he saw you run back here," Krista explained, and Sam frowned at the sight of the blush on his face and his heavy breathing.
"Are you okay?" she asked him, concerned, and he coughed a bit.
"Yeah—I just—got a—a—" He patted his chest and straightened himself upright. "—a—a li'l—um—"
"Joey," Krista said.
"Joey," Sam echoed her.
"Huh?"
"You don't—look good," Krista told him with a shake of her head.
"Yeah, you look like you're about ready to pass out," Sam added.
"I'm fine, I promise," he assured them, but then his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he fell onto his back. Krista and Sam glanced at one another in complete amazement, and they both stood over him as he lay there on the linoleum with his arms out on either side of him.
"What should we do?" Sam asked her in a small voice, to which Krista nibbled on her bottom lip.
"Good question." She stopped and then she looked over at Sam with a tested look on her face. "Was he—actually checking your jeans?"
"Do you want the truth?" Sam asked her.
"Always." She smelled faintly of peppermint, an aroma that Sam hadn't smelled in what felt like forever; Sam herself shook her head and Krista fetched up a sigh and rolled her eyes.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of this," she told her in a low voice and with a wave of her hand
"Okay," Sam replied with a nod of her head, and she stepped away from there. Her face felt so hot right then: it felt rather obvious in that hallway that Joey had kindled up a new flame there with another woman, and yet she still wanted him. She still wanted him even when she realized that her jeans were about to fall right off her hips.
She caught herself before anyone else caught her with her pants down.
Sam stopped right there, right underneath the sprig of mistletoe and she adjusted the zipper on her jeans. Krista's laughter floated out from that hallway and Sam sighed through her nose. Unless he really made it obvious to her, then she wouldn't have gone through with that with him. Or maybe he wanted to play the field, but there were too many questions she had already at that moment.
She straightened her shirt out and gave her dark hair a little toss back with a flick of her head. She could only hope that he was playing the field. That was the only hope she had right then.
"Hey, Sam!" Scott called out right then.
"Brunch is here!" Belinda added.
She turned to those tables right behind her and she joined them both for some French toast, sausage links, and biscuits and gravy.
"Where's Mr. Nightshade?" Belinda asked her.
"He's—He's—He's—" Sam could hardly speak herself. She sipped on her lemonade a bit so as to clear her head. "He's having a moment," she spoke right then.
Scott chuckled at that. Even from a momentary glimpse, Sam could tell that that mug of Irish coffee had already left its mark on him.
But she shrugged and she dug into her biscuits and gravy, the former of which were light and fluffy and fresh out of the oven; the latter of which was pale but peppery and even soft in texture. She took a glance to the left and the booth that Testament had packed into for themselves.
Chuck and Eric were both still very much in awe of that drawing that Marla had made; if only there was a way in which Sam could find her way back to Catalina just to fetch her journal, but alas she could not, not with brunch at the helm. Meanwhile, Alex leaned his back to the wall there in the booth and he kept his cup of tea close to his chest. He took a glimpse over at her with those deep eyes, as they looked as deep as ever at that moment.
If Joey could play around with another woman, why not play around with other men? If he really wanted her that bad, then she would have to act.
Scott cracked a joke to Belinda and she almost choked on her bite of sausage from laughing so hard. But Sam had her attention fixated upon the young buck across the floor from her. The shirt that her mother had bought for her fit him rather snugly, all around his waist and his chest, such that he had undone the top two buttons and showed off a bit of his chest. He said something to Greg who then nodded at him: he leaned past him and flashed Sam a wink. She returned the favor with a pretty little wave.
Alex picked up his tea and sauntered across the floor towards her. For a second, she swore that he had a bit of a sway to his hips as if he knew what was going on.
He took his seat next to her but he never bunched up closer to her than the single couple of inches that the seats allowed them.
"By the way, I should tell you, that wasn't me who was rubbing your butt last night," she promised him.
"I think you told me that and I wasn't able to say something about that," he recalled, "to that I say—" He gaped at her. "—oh, no."
"Yeah. But if it's any comfort, though, my mom had the hots for Joey when I brought him home."
"Wow." He raised his eyebrows at that.
"Yeah. If it's any further comfort, I'm nothing like that."
"Is your mom like—always like that?" He lowered his voice a bit on that last part.
"Not really," she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. "It's like—something woke her up when I brought Joey home for her to meet him."
He paused for a second.
"What exactly does she do?" he asked her.
"She's a writer. No clue what she writes, though, but she's got a good deal with it, such that—you know, she was able to move to Catalina and spoil us for a few days."
Alex glanced behind him.
"Where even is Joey?" he wondered aloud.
"I have no clue."
"Well, I saw you kissin' him," he muttered to her.
"And?"
He held his hands on either side of his tea cup and he pursed his lips together.
"And? Alex?"
"Thought you guys were really gonna go there," he confessed with a lean of his head towards her.
"We didn't, though," she assured him in a low voice. She mopped up a bite of biscuit in gravy.
"How is it?" he asked her.
"Delicious."
"We haven't gotten ours yet."
"Are you serious?" She was stunned by that.
"Dead serious. Hope it comes soon, too—it smells divine."
He took a sip from his tea and she ate up that bite of biscuit in unison with him.
"That was good pie, though," he told her.
"The pie we had last night?"
"Yeah. Nice li'l slice of your mom's pie right in my belly."
She giggled at him.
"Kinda wish we had some more of it," he confessed.
"More of that plus the spag Bol from the first night," she added.
"Oh, my god, that was unreal. So simple and homey but god—it just warmed me up so much that I fell asleep right when I lay down on the couch."
He sipped on the tea some more and that time he closed his eyes to nourish the feeling. Sam took another bite of biscuit and gravy and she, too, closed her eyes so to relish in the lush pepper paired with the light and fluffy biscuit.
"Hey, you two guys wanna hang with us for New Year's and my birthday?" Scott offered them.
"Oh, yeah, that's right!" Sam declared. "Your birthday's New Year's Eve. Um—well, I was planning on coming to see you guys on New Year's but I dunno about afterwards, though."
"Yeah, me, neither," Alex confessed.
"Come on—it'll be fun!" Scott declared. "Metallica will be there, too. I talked to James just yesterday—they're gonna be with us." Sam was reluctant however, given she had a hunch that Joey had his heart in Krista rather than her even with the kiss he had bestowed on her. Charlie called to Scott from across the room right then, and he raised a finger to them, and then he strode away from there. Sam turned to Alex and he looked on at her, puzzled and with both hands still around the base of his tea cup.
"Alex—will you hang with me on New Year's Eve?" she asked him.
"You're asking me to hang with you?" he echoed her.
"If you don't mind," she told him with a shrug of her shoulders. He shifted his weight and flicked his black curls back from the side of his neck. The hair dye still held up but she could see it fading away from his hair. Those grays were persistent in how they didn't want to be hidden away.
"You know what?" he said. "I'd love to. Are we going back to Catalina or somewhere else?"
Sam hesitated for a second. That house up in Reno was empty but the memories still remained there.
"Let's go somewhere else," she told him. "Has Testament ever toured Reno?"
"Uh, we've toured in Vegas. But—not really, no." He gazed on at her, those deep eyes so deep and soulful. "Why?" He squinted at her.
She brought the tines of the fork to her lips but she never said anything to him. His face then lit up and he snapped his fingers.
"That reminds me," he said.
"What's that?"
"I have something to give you," he told her.
"More and more gifts each and every time," she joked.
"Well, it's because we love you," he declared. "You don't give gifts to people when you don't love them."
He took another sip of tea and then he gestured for her to follow him into the front part of the restaurant, right to the front room and back in the direction of Joey and Krista.
"Careful with the mistletoe there," she noted, to which Alex leaned his back towards the wall and let her go ahead to the other room. He then bowed after her, right underneath that little lush sprig of mistletoe. He joined her right by her side all the way back to the front door.
There was that small space right next to the door: near the front of the whole stack stood his guitar case. He crouched down to the floor and he nudged it to the side: Sam lingered next to him with her hands pressed to her hips.
"Let's see, I think—Eric had it stashed with him," he said aloud, "like I showed it to him right before our second night in Reseda and he was like 'yeah, I'll keep it safe for you, Alex.'" He then lifted his gaze back up to her.
"Seeing as you just have your little purses," he started, and he took out a large red wine colored handbag with a small five petaled flower comprised of large mismatched beads sewn to the front: a flower that reminded her of the oleanders there in the south land. It was obviously handmade but the sight of it made her gasp.
"Oh, my god, Alex—this is beautiful."
"I just think of the glorious guitar strap that you and Belinda made for me for my birthday last year," he confessed, "and I decided to make something of my own for you. I just see you with your purses and all the stuff you put into them, and at one point, I thought, 'man, Samantha could use something a little bigger, but I'm not finding anything larger, though.' It was actually an effort from me, my brother, and both my parents—I don't know the first thing about beading. But I suggested it to my mom and she goes, 'okay, honey, I'll give it a shot.' My brother and I picked out the color and the fabric, and my dad pieced it together—"
Sam threw her arms around him before he could finish his sentence, and then he returned the favor. Those long spidery fingers caressed over her back and her hair.
It was going to be the first New Year's Eve in which she would have no one to kiss especially if Joey was going to tease like that. But then again, Alex stood there next to her with his body close to her. The warmth of his body. The softness of his white skin and his jet black hair.
She looked right into his round boyish face and he showed her a little grin, albeit one full of imperfect teeth.
"So where do you wanna take me?" he asked her.
"I'll take you to the place I know all too well," she told him. "It's a long drive, though."
"I'm up for it," he promised her. "As long as we get to see Anthrax in Long Beach the night before."
"Of course! And that's Zelda's birthday, too."
He gaped at her.
"Oh, shit, really?"
"Yeah. I just now remembered it, too. She threw it at me during the Stormtroopers of Death tour. I can't believe I still remember it, too."
"Wow," he said in a hushed voice. He adjusted the collar of his shirt and she slung the bag over her shoulder.
"Does it fit?" he asked her; and she brought the bag itself close to her hip.
"Like a glove," she promptly replied.
"Excellent!" He flashed her a thumbs up.
"We have to go back to Catalina, though," she told him. "Just—you know. Tell my mom what's up and whatnot."
"Day after Christmas, though."
"Of course," she told him and with a nod of her head, "of course, of course, Alex. If she rubs your butt again, I'll tell her about it. Don't you worry."
He fetched up a sigh and then he bowed his head a bit. He stepped back for a better look at the handbag under her arm. She brought it up before her thighs: the bud of the oleander was comprised of five small black onyx beads, much like the ones on the bracelet Chuck gave her, as well as one large wooden bead. Light pink and white beads meanwhile made up those five petals for that familiar poison flower.
"It almost looks like a book bag," he noted. "Like something you take to school." He froze right then. "By the way, are you even still in school?"
"I don't think I am," she confessed. "I never got any pieces of mail from there—no grants or anything. As far as I know, Bill ended the whole entire career for me."
"That greasy bastard," he proclaimed. "Talk about not practicing what he preaches."
"Right?" she laughed. "Although if I'm honest, Alex, I almost felt restrained while in school."
"Well, I'm gonna relay the same thing Eric told you earlier—if it feels right, you're probably right."
"Hey, Alex!" Eric himself said right behind them. "Biscuits are here."
"Oh boy!" Alex rubbed his hands together, and Eric spotted the handbag under Sam's arm.
"Oh, hey, you found that in my case!"
"Sure as hell," Alex replied.
"Thank you again, too," Sam told him and they embraced one last time before Alex hurried back to the table with Eric. The warmth stayed in her face as she walked back to Scott and Belinda.
It was only fair to herself and Joey after all.