souls of black | fever in, fever out

chapter 116: sextape

Ruben's new house overlooked the Bay waters, about a block away from the harbor and within range of Alex's parents' neighborhood. If nothing, Sam could walk in between both of their houses. Her father kept his promise and made up a bed for her in that spare room; the dream catcher was back at her mother's house but she knew that she could sleep well knowing that Alex and his parents weren't too far from there. She lay down on the bed that first time around with her feet up against the wall opposite her and she envisioned Alex right next to her.
It felt so strange given she had reached the middle of her twenties and yet she found herself back home with her parents once more. New York felt like a whole other strange world once again, even with her couch still back there.
"I want my couch," she muttered under her breath at one point. "I miss my couch."
Then again, she felt like a teenager again, as if she was given another chance at it. There was a boy who lived down the street from her whom she had traded saliva with before and she was trading in between living with her mother and her father, and yet she still had a place to go with her old friends back home in New York. The sole difference was she had reached twenty four rather than fourteen.
She stayed with Ruben for about a week and then she made the trip down to Catalina on the bus and stayed with Esmé for about another few days before she made yet another trip up to the Bay Area. She knew that she would have to settle on some place at some point given the sheer extent of traveling and her feeling as though that things could be better once again: the bus rides through the Central Valley were rather tedious as well and she wondered how in the world Alex made that seven hour car ride so entertaining for himself the day he picked her up from the side of the road.
At some point, right before her next stay on Catalina and there was a longer stop than usual before the end of the line in San Pedro, she spotted a little art shop near the Santa Monica pier and she stepped off of there before the usual one. She knew she would miss the ride back and thus she ran along the sidewalk to that shop up the block. She held onto the top of that fedora Alex had given her with one hand and the courier bag he and his parents had made for her with the other hand. She was about to walk right into an art shop with the Skolnick name right at her back.
Her old journal had been falling apart at the seams for a time at that point, more so than when she and Alex were up at Glenbrook together. She only had one sheet of paper left anyway: she also took his advice and broke down on some page protectors.
A brand new journal, a new set of pencils, and a new chapter of life all for a small price.
She had to run back to the bus stop but she missed it regardless of anything, however. She knew in her heart that her leaving the bus was more than worth it. She stood there under the protective awning with her new tools tucked away in her courier bag and the fedora high upon the crown of her head, and her sunglasses rested upon the bridge of her nose.
Within time, the next bus came and she finished the trip down to San Pedro and she caught the next boat over to Catalina Island.
She had reached there about half an hour later than she had intended with her mother, but she explained it with a mere showing of her courier bag to Esmé.
Sam stayed there at the house for a full night and then the next day, for most of the morning, she had the house to herself. There was only thing she could do, since Alex hadn't given her his number. She dialed that old familiar number once more and she brought the cordless up to her ear.
"Hello?"
That familiar upstate accent.
"Joey?"
"Oh, hi," he greeted her with a crackling on his end. "I was just thinking about you."
"Were you now?"
"I was thinking about—how beautiful you are."
"You're funny, Joey," she told him as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger.
"But it's true, though," he said with a clearing of his throat. "I was thinking about how beautiful you really are. Where are you right now?"
"Catalina. My mom's over in Avalon right now, so I have the whole house to myself at the moment."
"God, I miss that island. It was so cool there."
"It really is! I love it here. But you know—I love New York, too."
"I wish you were here, too..." His voice trailed off.
"Are you drunk?" she asked him.
"No? Why would I be?"
"Because you were that one night when Chuck, Alex, Marla, and I were at your place."
"I wasn't, though," he pointed out. "I was more starving than I was drunk off my ass."
"You smelled like booze, too."
"Sure, I may have had a drink or two over the course of that day. But I wasn't drunk, though. I was lucid—I'm sure you remember me."
"Yes, I do. How could I forget, really."
"Sam, I wasn't drunk. I promise you that I was not drunk."
"What was in that needle, by the way?"
"The needle I used to inject myself with?"
"Yeah, what was in there?"
There was a prolonged pause, such that Sam moved her head forward and her eyes darted about the floor in front of her.
"Joey? Are you there?"
"Yeah."
"What was in the syringe, Joey?"
"Black—tar—heroin."
She raised her eyebrows at that.
"Heroin," she echoed in a soft voice.
"Black tar. It's extra raw so you get a heftier high from it—I guess it makes you sick, too. I didn't tell you—when we were in Europe—you know, when you, Marla, Belinda, and Aurora were with us—Frankie and I did a little bump of cocaine. I gave it up because it made my nose itch like crazy—he might still be doing it as far as I know, but I did it because it was there. But I tried out black tar because it's hefty in its numbing abilities."
"Why would you want to numb yourself, though?" she asked him, concerned.
"Because I was in a lot of pain then, Sam. You weren't around to comfort me. I had to comfort myself somehow."
"Charlie told me that they just wanted you to have a break, though, Joey," she pointed out. "They just wanted a break, too."
"Is that all?"
"Yeah. Which means—someone's not telling me the whole truth. I don't know if there was a lack of communication or you had something in mind."
"I guess I just misheard him," Joey confessed with a sigh.
"I think you did. That's—why I asked you if you were drunk."
"I think I was just—in the moment then when he called me at the time."
"In the moment of what?"
Another pause, albeit one that was even longer as a result of that.
"Joey?" she called out to him. "Joey, are you there?"
He cleared his throat, but he didn't say anything further. Just a soft buzzing noise on his end.
"Joey?"
"Picture me there next to you," he started in a husky voice, "I've got my pants unbuttoned. I'm coaxing you to come on closer to me."
She froze right in place. "I'm picturing," she told him in a low voice.
"Come on closer to me," he begged her, "come on closer and put your hands down the front of my jeans and touch me there. Touch me there, and I'll return the favor to you."
"Where?" she asked him.
"Keep your voice down."
"Where?" she asked him again, that time in a near whisper; Esmé was still out of the house and she was in her room, but she had to do it for him.
"Right below the equator. Right inside that lovely bit of sugar you got there. Just give ya a li'l fingerin'."
"And what if I don't touch you?"
"You use your mouth on me. Use your mouth and then get on top of me."
"I ride on top?"
"Yes. Right—on top."
She thought about the tape that she and Chuck had recorded to send out to Bill. She wondered if he had it with him at that point and the whole entire thought of it made her heart hammer inside of her chest from that point onward.
"Should I top it off with a kiss to you after that?" she asked him as she ran her tongue along her top row of teeth.
"Please," he insisted, still in a low husky voice. "And then I want you to climb the other way around with me."
"So you can—"
"Put my tongue inside of you, yeah."
"Oh, my, Joey—what if I wanted to squeeze your ass, like a couple of ripe oranges?"
"What if you wanted to squeeze my ass?"
"How would you like that?"
"I'd like that very much. I'd probably squeeze yours, too—"
There was a click on his end; she also heard the front door close right behind her.
"Hang on, I'm getting another call," he told her.
"My mom's home, too."
"Oh, shit! Yeah, you don't wanna get caught talking like this in front of her. I'll talk to you later, though."
"Joey?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you," she said.
"I love you, too. I'm glad my own sour stomach was weak enough to keep me from injecting that horrible, horrible shit, otherwise I never would've heard your voice again."
She smiled at that, and then the two of them hung up at the same time.
His words stayed with her the whole week she was on Catalina, and even more so when she took the bus ride back up the Valley to the Bay Area. The first thing she did was visit the studio to see how Testament was doing, especially with her father being a part of their team now.
Sam pushed open the front door, which hung slightly ajar, so she could hear Alex plucking his guitar and Chuck laughing at something. Even from outside, she was growing familiar with his guitar tone and the elaborate, melodic way in which he played. She rounded the corner to find him there at the sound board, with that red guitar rested upon his lap and with his hair brushed to where it was rather frizzy and fuzzy and stood every which way.
"Hey, you," she greeted him.
"Hey!" he greeted back to her, complete with a lopsided little smile. Her gaze wandered over to the sound board, where she spotted a series of tapes there, all which had the words "signed and sealed" inscribed on one side.
"Are you guys done?" she asked him, stunned.
"Yeah, it's all been recorded," he told her, "well, Greg and Louie's parts are, anyway. Eric and I have to put down the guitar work, and then Chuck has to lay down vocals and then it all goes into mixing and mastering."
"Don't you guys also have to play the songs together, too?" she asked him.
"Yeah, we do! We do that—in about a month or so, or whenever our residency is up anyways. It's like the last thing we do is perform the songs live in studio."
She looked about the room around them: no one else in there with them, even with the door to the pool room wide open.
"I keep thinking about our encounter in the pool room," she said to him in a low voice.
"You know, I don't really have a memory of it," he confessed. "I mean, I sorta do? But it's rather vague, though. All I remember is feeling you up against my body and the next thing I knew, I woke up and I had that strange hickey on my neck. I never had one of those before, but when I took a better look at it, I thought 'is that what I think it is?' Sure enough it was. Again, my memory is real hazy but I do have somewhat of it, though."
"And we made a pinky promise to one another that we wouldn't speak about it to anyone, either," she added.
"I do remember that," he told her with a raise of his eyebrows. "I remember that pretty clearly."
"Because you puked it all up."
"I puked it all up but I was still kind of fuzzy in the head, though. But I do remember that part, though. I remember feeling your finger on me, too."
"I should tell you that you are quite the kisser," she told him.
"I think you are, too," he said with a little squint to his eyes. "I can still taste you. Even after all the water I drank up after the fact, I can still taste you on my tongue."
"Do you remember what else I told you?" she asked him in a soft voice.
"Something about—me being perfect or something along those line?"
"How I want to protect you from things, especially other women."
"Women are not things, though, Samantha," he said in a singsong voice and with a wag of his finger. "You ought to know that. You're a woman yourself."
"Of course," she retoreted as she rolled her eyes. "But what I mean is I want to protect you, Alex. I think it might be from you being younger than me."
"Could be. Or it could be the fact that you're out here in California again and your boyfriend is back in New York still."
"You were a bit drunk, though," she pointed out.
"I was drunk and feeling every inch of you all over me, like it's some kinda hallucinogen."
"I kind of wanna tape your mouth shut now," she admitted.
"Why?" he chuckled at that.
"Tape over your mouth and give you what for below the equator."
He raised his eyebrows at that, but she realized that he was looking past her. Sam turned around and there was no one behind her.
"I thought I saw Eric back there," he said as she turned back around and faced him straight on. "Anyways, you wanna tape me up and give me a little something down south?"
"Yes!"
"Lemme ask you this, Samantha—where did all this come from?"
"Hanging out with you and Chuck and Eric and Greg and Louie. That's what."
"Nah, I'm sure you were feeling like this with Joey and all those guys back East."
She eyed the veins in his lanky arms: they seemed much more slender, sinewy, and toned than before, as if he had worked out this whole entire time. She brought her gaze up to his face and those deep eyes that she had seen from a whole mile away from the coast line.
"I'll tell you this, though, Alex," she told him, "—you are nice and soft. For a strong little guy, you sure have the softest body. Like cuddling with a little teddy bear. Or a little pillow."
"Hey, I ain't little," he scoffed with a toss of his black hair and a wag of his finger. "If you and I ever get together at some point again in the future—and things get extra passionate between us—I'll show you what I mean."
She froze for a second, and then she realized what he was talking about. And then she showed him her tongue.
"You are a dirty little boy, aren't you," she teased him.
"Again—I ain't little. And I might have to wash anyways—I'll be right back."
He stood up and slung his guitar off of his shoulder, and then he walked on out of there, and into the next room. Given he said that within junction of itself, she wondered if he was actually going to do just that. She turned to the tapes on the sound board, those completed tapes, already recorded and ready to be pieced together for the new album.
A familiar woman's voice caught her ear right then, and she turned for a look to the door of the pool room. She recognized that jet black hair, which had been cut extra short and flipped about at the back of her head. She had put on a bit of weight from carrying two babies, but her protruding belly told Sam that there was something else now.
"Hey! Aurora!" She was stern.
"Sam!" Aurora's face lit up but Sam's arms folded across her chest took that look of joy away as quickly as it came. Eric and Alex stopped right in their tracks in the doorways right there on either side of them: the room fell silent as a result.
They hadn't spoken since that fateful New Year's Eve, but the wounds were still raw with Sam. Aurora glanced back at Eric, who stood there in the doorway of the pool room; he looked as though he was about to head back in there but he never did. She returned to Sam with a serious look on her face.
"Listen—I feel terrible," she confessed. "I feel so terrible for what I did, for leaving you and the girls behind. But—I have a family now. It's hard for me to focus sometimes—and it was especially then, too. My brain just—wasn't firing on all cylinders. Really, I feel terrible, Sam. I can't believe I did that to you."
"I see you already have another bun in the oven," Sam grumbled; she swore that Aurora just had twins that past summer.
"I do, yes. I'm sure you know—I love my daughters. I love Emile. But I also love you, though. I love you and I miss you. And like I said, I feel terrible." She paused for a moment. "If you're going to blame anyone, blame me."
Sam parted her lips to say something but no sound came out. Instead, Aurora lowered her gaze and she turned away. Sam's mind went blank and then she turned to Eric and Alex there in the doorways, and the both of them looked so small at the sight before them. Eric then stepped out of the way to let Marla through: her hair still in that neon green, but she carried a small bundle in her arms.
"Our daughters," Aurora explained, "Phoebe and Elizabeth—I just brought Phoebe with me. Emile's caring for Elizabeth back home right now. I don't know what this baby'll be next but I'm eager to meet him or her."
She turned to Marla.
"What were you gonna do?"
"I was just take her outside to the porch," Marla replied as she nodded to the doorway around Alex. "It's kind of stuffy in here and smells like beer." Alex himself grimaced at that; he stepped out of her way and Aurora followed suit.
Sam, Alex, and Eric congregated there in the middle of the floor; she then turned to Eric.
"I feel like I haven't seen you in a million years," she told him. "How are you?"
"I'm good, thank you!"
"We're on a roll lately," Alex said with a glimmer in his eye.
"Hell yeah, we are, my brother." Eric bumped his fist, and then Alex returned to the sound board for his guitar; Sam peered out the doorway at the sight of Marla and Aurora taking their seats on the porch. There was a small shrub right there at the rim, one decorated with big hot pink flowers. Sam had seen those flowers all over California, especially all over the southern region of the state.
"I don't like those flowers," she told Eric in a low voice.
"What, those pink ones?"
"Yeah."
"Why's that?"
"Those are oleanders. They're poison, Eric."
"Oh, shit."
"Yeah, look how close they are to them, too."
Eric cleared his throat.
"Marla," he called out. "Marla—"
"Just a second," she told him off, and she adjusted the bundle in her arms, and then she returned to Aurora. "Anyways—"
"Marla!" Eric insisted.
"Just a second, Eric!" she insisted, and she turned back to Aurora. "What was I saying?"
"MARLA!"
She rotated in the chair and fully faced him with Aurora's daughter cradled in her arms.
"What do you want, Eric?" she demanded.
"Get away from that bush!" Sam declared.
"What, this bush right here?" Marla gestured to the hot pink flowers right behind her.
"Yes, those are oleanders—they're poison," she advised her.
"Oh, shit—" Marla yanked Phoebe away from there.
"Yeah, go wash—" Sam proclaimed, and she and Eric looked at one another, horrified. Marla hurried off of the porch and headed back inside of the short corridor before them and into the bathroom. Aurora lifted up her chair and inched away from there.
"That was close," Eric said as he headed back to the pool room.
"For real!" Sam returned to Alex, who had taken his seat there once again and played around with the volume on his guitar. He raised his head and showed her a soft expression.
"I feel like if you go back to New York now," Alex told her in a low voice, "you'll be seen as a hick."
"Why's that?"
"Because you're in touch with nature," he said with a shrug of his shoulders, "I dunno, just something about being in a place like New York and knowing about things like oleanders."
"That's probably why I loved upstate so much," she recalled in a soft tone.
"There's also—this is just from what I've seen traveling through there and from touring—like a bluntness with New York, too. You like things that are nice and soft. It's okay, though—my dad tells me that time makes you stronger as it passes along."
"I'll buy that," she said, "I definitely feel stronger now than I was five years ago, before I moved to New York in the first place."
"Don't blame ya," he told her with a shake of his head and the little gray tuft over his head waved about like a little flag. "Five years—you've been through a lot, Samantha."
"I really have," she said in a low voice. "I really genuinely have, Alex."
Louie strode past them right then with little black gloves on his hands. He gave his hair a slight toss back and showed her a grin.
"Poison garden," she declared.
"Poison mother fuckin' garden," he echoed her as part of his greeting and he gave her a bump of the fist.
"I don't know what that means," Alex confessed, "but poison garden!"
Sam and Louie burst out laughing at that.
"When we were on a road trip together," she explained to him, "we talked about starting a garden that's consisted of nothing but poison plants."
Alex froze for a second, and then he burst out laughing, and then he looked on at her with a mortified look on his face.
"Poison plants? Like—deadly nightshade and—"
"Oleanders, too," Louie added.
"Yeah, we discussed oleanders," Sam continued, "mainly because they grow like weeds in the south land in particular. But yeah, deadly nightshade, oleanders, strychnine, among others. You can join us if you so wish, Alex."
"I'd rather have a stake in it, thank you," he said with a nervous chuckle.
"A stake in poison!" Louie declared. "Right on."
"A stake in poison and sex tape," Sam blurted out, to which Alex shushed her, but Louie had already walked away at that point. Marla returned out of the bathroom, still with the bundle in her arms.
"Marla!" Sam called out to her, and she padded closer to the doorway.
"Did Bill ever get the thing?" Marla hesitated for a second and then her face lit up.
"He did, as a matter of fact! Dave called me right before I flew out here and he said 'the eagle has landed.'"
"Hell yeah," Alex declared with a mischievous grin on his face.
"By the way," Sam added, "you look like a mom holding that baby in your arms." She turned to Alex. "Wouldn't you agree, Alex? She looks like a mom."
"Yeah, even with the green hair," he said.
Marla shrugged her shoulders.
"I dunno 'bout that," she confessed. "I've never felt like mommy type like with Aurora back here. But, I'll take that as a compliment, though. Thanks, guys." She showed them a smile before she ducked back onto the porch.
"Speaking of mommies," Alex said under his breath, and Sam took a glimpse over at him.
"What'd you say?" she asked him.
"Nothing." And he continued plucking and messing with the dials.