Complications

; she wishes to be someone else. he has numbers on his hand. she lost her rose. he has nowhere to paint. all of them has nowhere to go.

Mikey knew she'd love them.

      It took three people to snuggle topnotch make up from a big store like Sephora. But nothing was ever too good for Lola.

      She beams at the paper bag overflowing with random expensive beauty items; she was sure Mikey just grabbed what he can, as quick as he could. And she loves that. She loves him.

      He smiles when he sees her light up. His hand reaches out to brush a stand of hair from her face and she looks at him, adjusting her plastic crown. "See if your cop can do that for you."

      Lola gives him a look. "Pretty sure he'd actually buy them with money. Not like he could afford them, anyway." She blushes, sure to talk like she wasn't attached to her lover. "Love" being an objective term.

     She was so beautiful, even without the things covering her face. Her pale skin white and violet. But he knew she masked up like she breathed, it was her mechanism; ever since Mikey saw the marks on her seven-year old face. Her mother's make up professionally laid on her face to cover her father's anger.

     That's when he took her away.

     She ran like she was finally free that day. They've been running for sixteen years.

     "Does this color like good on me?"

     Mikey looks at her and scrutinizes, "I can't tell, Lady Lola."

     "Come closer, then." She laughs.

     And he does. He could smell white carnations on her scent. His eyes flutter to meet hers. He almost didn't notice how he almost tasted her breath on his lips. Closing the distance could be so easy.

     So he quickly stands up and leaves.

________________________________

"No! Lola! You know what my answer is! What my answer always will be: No!"

      Lola almost claws her face off, exposing part of her bare skin. "I can do it this time! I'm not as fragile as you think, Mikey!"

      "I don't want you tangled up in this, Lola! How many times do"is that a f*****g bruise?" In a flash, he's right in front of her, holding up her face. "That b*****d cop did this to you again?"

      She looks away, trying to hide in her thick dark hair.

      Mikey holds her firmer. "F*****g look at me! Your boyfriend did this?!" He realizes that she began shaking and his voice grows softer. He sighs. "I swear to Christ one day I'll murder that f****r."

      Lola meets his gaze and there it is again; this static they have. The air around them begins getting heavy and it's there, it was always there. No matter how much Mikey tries to deny it.

      He pushes her away. "I have to go." He calls out to two people across the beaten-down studio room. "Denna! Ashe! Keep her here. Not a f*****g scratch on her. Keep her safe. Keep her happy."

He comes back later that night and she's asleep on their mattress, snuggled up in one of his jackets.

      Mikey sets down the duffel bag full of food and cash. He makes sure that his gun is as far and hidden away from her as possible. His hands rip off his blood stained shirt and he lays down right beside her. Almost instantly, he finds himself stroking her hair, tracing patterns on her skin with the lightest touch.

      They've made a kingdom from walls covered with newspaper and unpaid diner food. They've made a family with lost boys and runaway girls and everything in between.

      He would give her the world. He just couldn't give her himself.

___________________________________

She doesn't come home that night and he knows that she's staying over at Rubin's. Good. That meant she was safe. Mikey's fist tightens when he remembers her bruise. Maybe she wasn't so safe. But it's better this way. She is better away from him.

      "Yo, Mike." Boomer calls him, "Just got a call from Cell. Says he's got some buddies along 4th avenue. They've got stuff."

      He nods and orders everyone to their respective duties. Pulling out his phone, he quickly types a message and sends it. "Alright. Let's move out!"

Higher downtown, a phone vibrates.

      Lola smiles as she reads Mikey's text. She misses him too much already.

      "Who you talking to?" A deep voice asks beside her.

     "Just my friend," she quickly replies. And then she feels big meaty hands grip her arms like poisonous vines. Suddenly she has an urge to vomit.

______________________________

"For the right price, yes."

     Mikey knew Lola's worried sick but Denna would keep her sane 'till he got back. "So you'll take care of everything?"

      "Yeah, man. I've been doing this for years. Almost completely off-grid. Not easy though. But I've known you forever. Consider this my attempt in paying you back for everything you've done for me and Evelyn. And the kids."

     Legs bouncing up and down, sweat trickling down his face, Mikey couldn't help finally grinning after all these years. Although completely out of character, he embraces his friend.

     No more running. No more almost-kisses. Mikey could finally give Lola the one thing he's always wanted to give her; a life she deserves. In broken heartbeats, he mutters out "Thank you."

     Cell patts him back. "Meet me by Thames Street two nights from now. Get everything ready, you and your girl, clothes, money. Absolutely no phones, we'll give you both new ones when we're all in the clear."

     It isn't Mikey's happiest day. It was, hopefully, the start of all his happy days.

_____________________________

For the next two days, he's talks with everyone in whispered conversations. Telling everyone what was going to happen, how he'll try to give all of them the same, explaining that Lola had to go first. They all responded with nods and understanding.

      The sun was only starting to set when him and Lola entered the restaurant the second day. He's all smiles and Lola's amazed by everything around her.

      "How are we going to make a run for it here?" Lola whispers as soon as they've been seated in their dark secluded table.

      Mikey laughs. "Don't worry, Lady Lola. Tonight, we don't have to run. We don't have to run anymore."

      She c***s a brow, confused.

      He takes her hand across the table, something he rarely does. She looks like a miracle in a rose pink dress he bought her. It felt so good finally buying her something. "Carlos will be here in a bit with our bags. After dinner, you have to follow exactly what I say, okay? Trust me, Lady Lola?"

      Lola nods and that's all Mikey needs.

BUUUZZZZZ BUZZZZZZ BUZZZZZ BUZZZZZZ

      Halfway through dinner, Mikey's phone buzzes and he slowly picks it up. He drops it even before a full second passes.

Money flying, running and confusion and dread.

They scamper to their hideout as fast as heeled shoes could take them, hoping they could make it in time"hoping they could make it out alive.

     The cop saw Mikey's jacket the other night, recognizing it from a police file. He got a sample of dried blood from it and ran some tests. A tracker was placed on Lola's phone. Sirens are blaring now, growing louder and louder.

They get there only moments before the police do.

WE'VE GOT YOU SURROUNDED. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP.

     Scared but brave eyes stare at Mikey. But he doesn't have anything to say. Then the screams come, telling them to make a run for it, their bags are tossed. Lola yells back, telling them that they were a family. They couldn't just leave them.

Mikey grabs Lola and takes flight. She screeches, telling him we have to go back, Mikey, the cops will beat them up, we can't let them have our family,

A rooftop door bursts open.

WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED!

Take me! She's innocent! SHE'S INNOCENT!

Mikey, NO!

NO!

BANG! BANG!

MIKEY!

MISS, DO NOT COME NEAR"

SHE'S TAKING MY GUN! ANDY"

LET GO!

BANG! BANG!

 ©2016 W.Greene, All Rights Reserved

Author's Note

Every writer knows the struggle.

There are too many things to write about but your hands aren't fast enough and your brain easily comes up with a new idea, lighting quick. Your whole body is a confusing paradoxical thing. Mine was, and is, no exception.

This isn't the first book that I wanted to put out to the world. But I can never find myself struggling to finish what I've started writing, I only end up writing a completely new chapter, a completely new book. I couldn't stay completely idle either (there's this thing that stops me from being completely stupidly still—it's called a brain.)

The whole process burned me out.

Someone suggested I try this app that gave out creative suggestions, it was to fuel the artist. "Draw something beautiful from something tragic," it challenged me. I didn't get to screenshot it but my mind already did that for me.

One day I scrolling through youtube, I found a song so fucking beautiful that I hated how it broke my heart—it was a perfect fit. That's how I started writing these stories.

Each one is inspired by a song I would hear,

Every story takes me days to write because I wanted to make people feel what these songs make me feel. Creating a story is easy, making people interested is fairly easy too, but putting out stories that would make them feel exactly how you need to? That's the thing I struggled with, and god damn it, I did struggle. I hated writing without passion, and writing a whole book can really make you forget the whole emotion you're supposed to put out. A feeling is strong, it punches quick but it's the aftermath that breaks you—just like a short story.

So here they are, love.

Enjoy my writer's struggles and my human's emotions. I hope you feel the songs in these chapters.


W. Greene