Freak Show | Multiship [C]

Chapter 28 | Good Times Gone

Empty whiskey and gin bottles cluttered the floor of a hole in the wall bar. People were passed out, the doors locked, and the smell of depression in the air. Angelo laid on the bar top and scrunched his eyes under the cheep light above him. His skin was numb, and Novocain ran through his veins. His body and mind were both weaker than his constitution.

Some failed actor was doing a line of coke of the counter he rested on. He could care less what went on around him. If it weren't for a few people that wish he were dead more than he did, he would've blown himself away a long time ago. It was part PTSD, but mostly the feeling of rock bottom and a broken heart.

He didn't even pay much attention to who it was, but someone stumbled over to him and started to kiss him. It was all a haze at this point. Between the alcohol and the drugs, his vision was blurred to a point of no care. He attempted to sit up as his lips laid on some random chick. Unfortunately his once sharp balance wasn't with him and he fell down off the bar. As he attempted, and failed, to get back up, steps sounded in his ears. He looked up at the person who just walked in, thinking he was seeing a ghost.

"My, how the mighty have fallen." Manson stated with disappointment.

Angelo managed to pull himself up to a standing position. He grasped the bar tightly as he looked upon his old boss with red eyes. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" He slurred.

"Twiggy and I have been moving city to city since the Freak Show was shut down. We'd just get settled in, then his PTSD would get the best of him or the town would run us off, or some other shit, and we'd have to move again. We got to Detroit about two weeks ago and I started hearing your name on a few people's tongues. I was thinking, maybe you could help Twiggy. You were the one trapped with him, and you're the medium. I thought maybe you could offer him some understanding and spiritual guidance. I'm the fool for assuming you'd still be the man I used to know."

He stared an empty stare. "The man you knew died in that cabin three years ago. You took my home, my job, and my heart. Unless you feel like doing me a favor and putting me out of my misery, I suggest you kindly go fuck yourself."

"What the fuck happened to you?" He gasped, "You were once the saint. Now, you're just a worthless drug addict."

"You don't fucking know what it's like!" Angelo shouted, "All these fucking voices in my head, constantly. Spirits, always fucking around me. They know I'm the only one that can hear them, but I'm not a fucking carrier pigeon to fly off with their messages for the living! The drugs are the only thing that make the voices go away! They are the only thing that makes me feel again! I'm fucking numb and it's all thanks you!"

"Would you rather be numb or dead?!" Manson snapped.

"At this point, dead." He seethed, "Don't make me tell you again. Fuck off."

Twiggy, surprisingly, broke away from Manson. He attempted to approach Angelo, mumbling, "Ange, ple-"

Angelo pushed him away, "I told you to fuck off!"

Manson pulled Twiggy back, sending darts with his eyes at his fallen friend. "There's no talking sense into him. Let's get out of here."

He began to escort himself and his boyfriend out. As Manson left, he leaned over near a small table and set a card on it. The card, reading their current address. If, somehow, Angelo sobered up and changed his mind about things. It wasn't all too likely though.

| | |

The lights of an LA street were bright enough to be seen from space. And the music of a strip club, it could probably be heard from another country. This wasn't the type of place Ryan would ever find himself. He, being the most normal looking of the freaks, had done well in life since the parting. His only problem? He was alone. He never found Ricky again, and his heart was utterly empty.

A nice house in the country and a stable job was nothing without the person he couldn't forget about. No matter how much he tried, he still obsessed over the words on that piece of paper from the night they disbanded. Lyric after lyric, poem after poem, he wrote until his fingertips were sore. Just trying to get it all out on paper to help himself forget. He couldn't.

Ryan also couldn't find Ricky. At least, so far he has yet to. He hasn't been able to find any of the freaks, until tonight. On a small business trip out to City of Angels, he stumbled across a flier depicting an old friend of his. As he entered the loud strip club, he instantly recognized the woman on stage. He might have been terribly uncomfortable in this place, but his heart felt relief to have some sign of companionship.

"Can I get you something to drink?" The bartender yelled over the cheap music.

Ryan turned to look at him, seeing Nikki's unforgettable eyes under the purple lights. "You know I don't drink." He said with a smug look.

Nikki held up his finger to tell him to wait a minute. He walked over to another employee, presumably to tell him to take over the bar for a minute. Nikki grabbed Ryan by his arm and dragged him to the back. Here, they could actually hear themselves think somewhat.

"What are you doing here?" He asked in awe.

Ryan reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out a folded up flier, handing it to Nikki. "I was in town for business and saw this in the street. I've been trying to find people from the Freak Show for a long time now. It felt like it wasn't even real when I saw Ashley's picture on there."

Nikki pulled him into a hug, experiencing that unreal feeling himself. As he parted, he asked, "Didn't you ever find Ricky?"

"No. I've been on my own since the show was disbanded. That's why I've been looking for the others. Just trying to find someone that might know where he is."

The door opened briefly, letting in the sounds and smells of the club. Ashley walked in and was completely floored to see Ryan standing there. She rushed him with a hug, asking, "What the fuck are you doing here? Actually, I don't even care! I'm just happy to see you!"

"He's trying to find Ricky." Nikki stated.

She leaned on Nikki's shoulder for support as she pulled off her heels. "We haven't heard from anyone since that night."

"Same here." He sighed, "I don't know why we didn't fight to keep it more than we did."

"At the time, raising our white flag felt like the only option." Nikki said.

Ryan sighed, "I know, and I've thought about trying to get the Freak Show back together, but... Like I said, I have no idea where the others are."

Ashley looked Nikki in the eye. There was a bit of silence and understanding between them. She walked over to the vanity in the room to grab her normal, non-stripper clothes. "We... We miss it. I would give anything to be back working the Freak Show. If we worked hard enough, we could find them, right?"

"It can't be that hard to lose some of them. I mean, Chris and Devin are fucking giants. Ryan-Ashley and Balz are walking pieces of art. It's not like they can disappear easily." Nikki replied.

"Are you suggesting we actually do try to get the show back together?" Ryan asked.

"It's better than being here." Ashley said. She had a point...