Chapter 1

I should introduce this story with trigger warnings. It’s less upbeat than most of my Gabbyverse tales. TW: violence, homophobia, racism and other forms of bigotry. Also, you may need to have Google Translate available, though I promise that it will make sense without.

As always with my Gabby’s stories, you’ll meet several characters you’ve seen before, but you don’t need to have read any other work in advance.

“So I guess you’re not out to her,” I said.

Cici shook her head. “I will have to tell her one day, but I need to make it through school. I’ll have to be ready to move out. In fact I’ll probably need to move everything I want out of her house first, because she’ll cut me off.”

“Elián still visits Cici at college,” Brooke said, her expression more serious than her tone. “Maybe you’ll see him on your private pay-per-view.”

“I don’t know if I should watch now that I’ve been outed as a stalker,” I said, my eyes on Cici.

“You’re not a stalker,” said Cici. She tried to pass it off as nonchalant, but her cheeks glowed. “And maybe I like being stalked by una chica hermosa. I can always avoid the green if I’m having a bad hair day, or if I’m hungover.”

I frowned at her words. “She called you a beautiful girl,” Brooke said, in another stage whisper.

My cheeks warmed. “I’m happy to stalk anyone who finds me attractive,” I said, “but you lied to me! You said you don’t drink!”

“I don’t drink here,” she corrected. “I don’t drink at bars. I do go to parties. I do other things that I won’t tell Mamá. And if you ever tell her what you see on your web-viewer-thing, I will withdraw your right to stalk.”

I grinned at her. “Even if I knew who she was, do you think she’d take me seriously?” I made a quick gesture to take in my face, clothing, and navel piercing.

Cici smiled for the first time since Brooke mentioned her brother. “Probably not,” she agreed. She frowned at me. I knew what was coming next. “Why do you have so much metalwork?”

“I like the way it looks,” I said, which was the answer I always give.

“I do too,” Cici said, “but why? It must be uncomfortable.”

“That’s a harder question,” I agreed. “Why do I like the way my piercings look? I was a raven in a former life, so I like shiny things, maybe? Decoration? Why does a room look better with paintings? I have kind of a square face, and I think my adornments make it more interesting. Does that mean I’m hiding my face because I think it’s bland?” Cici gave me a horrified look, but I shrugged. “I’ve wondered that occasionally. I don’t think I do, but if I ever decide to take out my jewelry, it will be because I’ve decided that I’m trying to hide my face, and I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Cici lifted her head to see over the table. “That last reason couldn’t account for non-facial piercings,” she said, looking down at my navel.

“I guess I just like the freedom to decorate my body as I choose,” I said. “I think that’s the only answer. Will it ever make sense to anyone else? I don’t know.”

“How many are there?” Cici asked.

“There’s one hoop on my lip,” I said, pointing to it. It was a small tungsten vertical hoop on the right side of my upper lip. “Two here,” I added, pointing to my nose, where two small hoops graced my left nostril. “Two on each eyebrow.” These were tungsten spikes, two together on the outside of each eyebrow. “Five in my left ear, and earrings.” I’d been counting on my fingers. “That makes fourteen.”

“Do you have tattoos, too?” Cici asked.

I shook my head. “Just one, not in public view.”

“I’d think if you were so into adorning your body, tattoos would be less painful,” she said.

“Maybe,” I said, “but I don’t like the permanence. I won’t remove my jewelry, but I could, and that’s important to me. I’ve seen too many tattoos that the owners regret. Or should.”

She nodded, but I don’t know if she understood. I don’t know if I fully understood. “Can we see your ears?”

I held my hair back to expose them. The left had two rings up high, then three plain studs. Below them a chain suspending a black aurora CZ stone. A matching chain adorned my right ear, with no other decorations. A mix of symmetry and imbalance, like most of my choices.

Cici stared at the stones on the chains, then down at the one in my navel, apparently noticing that they matched. Then she seemed to realize that she was staring at my exposed midriff, and a slight flush shaded her cheeks as she looked back up. “Uh,” she said, “I guess that makes fifteen.”

“Oh, yeah, I was only counting the ones on my face,” I said. “Well, my head. If I add in others, there’s… an undisclosed number. If you’re a very lucky girl,” I added, with a sly grin, “maybe you can count them for yourself one day. You could even see my tattoo.”

Cici’s face took on the hue of a beet.

“Sam…” The warning voice was Brooke’s.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?” I said, contritely. “I’m only teasing.”

“I don’t know of others,” interjected Phil.

I grinned at him. “Babe, if you and I were just a little less gay, you’d know for sure.”

He laughed, then turned to Cici. “If you ever do find out, let me know.”

Brooke’s disapproving glare extended to Phil. “I think we’re embarrassing our Juliet,” I said, then smiled at Cici. “Perhaps we’ll see a replacement for Ingrid under the spreading boughs of the campus courtyard?”

“My first class is earlier this semester,” said Cici. “I will have to move from my tree before nine-thirty. But I may be under my tree with coffee and the day’s notes before then. Until the weather turns cold.”

Though we entered the bar as Spike and Faye in coordinated costumes, I lost track of Phil not long after buying us both our first drink. Though he must have kept a closer eye on me, since he texted me a photo of me dancing with a buxom, blonde Tinkerbell. She was all in green, but not much of it. I sent it to Cici with a suggestion to find herself a pixie. A scowly face told me she wasn’t thrilled with that idea.

Though smoking or vaping were strictly illegal in a public bar like the Lion, there was a distinct odor of mariajuana on the air, along with the traditional bar aromas of spirits, mixers and beer.

Heading to the bar for my second drink, I caught my friend Cade. She and I had had a casual thing a couple of years earlier, and, stereotypically, we’d drifted into friendship after we’d decided to stop sleeping together. Cade had dark skin and gold-dyed hair that stood out in individual curls. Not my work. I’d love to be able to style hair like that, but it was a skill I wasn’t likely to learn. Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to take the work from Black stylists who had a much rougher time in the industry.

I told her about my stalking and the cute girl I’d been following. I showed her the Carmen Sandiego outfit. She beamed at the phone, then gave me a speculative look, eyebrow raised.

Cade was only a few weeks out of a short-term relationship that hadn’t ended as well as our fling, and she was hoping to hook up. Not with me, obviously, but she was happy to tell me her woes.

“There’s a very cute Tinkerbell out there. I got the impression that she might have flexible relationship goals, and just plenty of flexibility in general,” I said, then dug my phone out and showed her the photo.

“Maybe I’ll look out for her,” Cade replied. “Yeah, that level of flexibility might be just what I need. You weren’t interested?”

“Don’t want the headache,” I said.

Cade shrugged, then grinned at me. “Just don’t send that photo to your friend in the red coat.”

“Oh, I, uh, I did already,” I said, scowling. “I wanted to show her I was having a good time, since she was asking me about my party plans.”

“OMG, you moron!” Cade said. “I can’t believe you’d be so clueless! What would you think if she sent you a photo like that?”

“I’d be happy for her! We’re not dating or anything. We’re not involved at all.” But I realized I really wouldn’t want to see her so close to a near-naked woman, whether pixie or human. I hadn’t had those feelings about “Ingrid” or the other girl Cici had been seeing for a few days. But those situations had been before we’d traded flirtatious texts, or talked about our lives on rainy mornings. Before I’d realized that I might be reciprocating her crush.

Cade sighed. “I hope you haven’t set fire to your friendship. You should call her. But that’s your problem to solve. You wanna meet up tomorrow? We should catch up.”

“Sure. Post-Halloween drag,” Cade said. “You still have my number?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Cool,” Cade said. “You’ll have to excuse me now, I’m going pixie hunting.”

I picked up another drink. I wasn’t going to call Cici, because I wouldn’t find anywhere quiet without leaving. I decided to text now, though, not leave her to let resentment brew.

Me: “How’s the party, Carmen?”

Her reply didn’t arrive for over fifteen minutes. I’d given up waiting and stuffed the phone into the back pocket of the yellow shorts, which was so small the phone was only held against my ass by tension. At least it was easy to feel the buzz when she did reply.

Cici: “Not as much fun as yours, but don’t let me distract you from the green bikini.”

Well, shit, Cade had nailed it.

Me: “Nah, I’m just here to dance. I think she’s looking for a more particular kind of fun.”
Cici: “You’re not?”
Me: “Not like that. I arrived with Phil and I’ll be going home alone. How’s the reaction to the coat?”
Cici: “Good and bad. Send another selfie.”
Me: “Okay, but you too. How good and bad?”

I turned to put the crowd behind me and snapped a selfie, where she could see the activity behind me.

Her selfie arrived just after I’d sent mine. She’d taken the yellow tee off and the coat hung open, leaving the corset visible. I’d be saving this image, too.

Cici: “Are you smoking?”
Me: “Prop cigarette. Realistic. Ash and everything. Part of Faye’s look. Good and bad?”
Cici: “Getting hit on a lot, and not by girls. Some creeps. One’s watching me now. Good party, though. Group of us looking out for each other. Wait.”

A moment later another selfie arrived, this time with five girls behind her making a mixed collection of gestures.

Cici: “I should probably pay more attention to them. Green tomorrow?”

For a moment I thought she was referring to Tinkerbell’s thin strips of green cloth, then realized she meant the webcam.

Me: “I’ll be there.”

“She has to deal with her mom sooner, not later,” Brooke said. “Your presence in her life won’t change that. And has she told you she wants to move back for grad school?”

I felt a sudden thrill. She wasn’t going to be hundreds of miles away. “No, she hasn’t,” I said, carefully. “We haven’t talked about anything like that. We haven’t talked much at all, honestly. Our conversations tend to be one text message from me and a wave from her, except on rainy days.”

Brooke chuckled. “And she’s conveniently in a rainy city. Maybe you don’t realize just how much she’s drawn you in.”

“Well, shit,” I said, with an ironic half-grin. “I guess we’ve established that she’s smart. Maybe sneaky, too.”

“All I’m saying is tread carefully, but don’t dismiss the possibility that there could be something between you, and it isn’t necessarily bad. Of course, if you hurt her, I’ll have to kill you, and I’m sure Cici can help with any number of untraceable poisons.”

She was completely deadpan when she delivered the threat, and there may have been a touch of nervousness in my laugh. “Is that what she’s studying? I asked. “Poisons?”

“Pharmacology,” Brooke said. “She wants to research human systems. She’ll do it, too. Are you single?”

The question came out of nowhere. Brooke might make a good interrogator. “Yes,” I said, automatically. “I’ve been single for about three years. I haven’t been celibate that whole time, if that’s an issue, but I’m not seeing anyone now. I don’t think I could right now, because I know that it would disappoint Cici.”