Spinoff -- Thin Lines

The club seemed almost to be a deja vu throwback to my days in hell. The air was pumping with energy and the vague smell of sweat was hard to escape in the close confines. The styling of the worn down youth center reminded me of all the times I had seen Stories Never Told and all the other bands from the local scene in a used up civic center on the outskirts of my hometown.

Perhaps the one true difference in the two places was the apparent lack of DIY ethic among the crowd members. Clothing was mass produced and labeled by sellout bands that played on MTV. Several times in my life my friends and I had gone out of our way to get tee's from the loudest, sludgiest bands possible and usually the shirts were so poorly made the logo's started falling off within three washes. And what we couldn't buy out of the backs of band members box vans we just made ourselves with sharpies and highlighters.

Conformity seemed to be the buzzword here despite the "straight out of hell" surroundings. In a sense it all just seemed faked. And right in the middle of this organized ruckus was Kitty, bobbing up and down in the crowd, looking like a punk Mary Jane Watson calling for my attention. I couldn't hear a word she was screaming so it was her flailing arms that grabbed my focus. Kitty was seventeen to my eighteen, a year below me at school. She had just transferred at the beginning of the year so we didn't know each other too well but we had obvious chemistry. A subtly aggressive and confident mien parted the crowd for me as I walked to her. The bands were only now warming up and the first band, Damned and Bleeding, announced the would be starting as soon as they could find their snare drum at which point the drummer came forward and grabbed the mic.

"F**k it, start the show." He announced, and the guitarist started playing even before the drummer could hand over the mic and make it back to his set. The vocalist just screamed all the harder in absence of his mic and when it was back in his hands the PA boomed with with the half barking overtones of his voice. He sounded like a junkyard dog trying to get to a piece of meat behind a glass wall, and from the sound of it he would come crashing through any moment now. And roughly thirty seconds after the drummer had started the song it was over, in true punk style. The singer introduced his band, his voice shocking melodic and entrancing despite his screaming vocal style.

"What a rush." Kitty hugged me as she spoke, her back was hot, almost feverish. After a lingering stare into my eyes, her face growing gradually closer every second our eyes locked, she backed up. "Excuse me." She parted the crowd as the singer spoke on and on, making her way to the bathroom.

The singer continued as she was gone, this was their first public show. I found that surprising considering their intense crowd control and uncanny ability to instill emotions in otherwise grungy music. I considered that a good band could come from half-hearted scene. For a second, it occurred to me that even a half-hearted scene could be a good one, or at the very least, a fun one.

It was on the Monday of that week that Kitty had invited me to come to this show. Her sister was friends with the frontman for Straight Up Pricks and she thought I might enjoy his style of more concise and old-school hardcore punk. So, here I was at the Thursday show.

Kitty arrived just in time for the start of the second song. I would've bet money that the frontman had been stalling so that the drummer could borrow a snare from another act as they had one for the song as if it had magically appeared while he was talking.

I pulled Kitty close as the song began with a fast but incredibly delicate guitar intro reminiscent of "Wasted Words" by Death by Stereo. The slow, sensual fretwork made a soundtrack to our bodies moving against one another. Looking around, I noticed that we weren't the only ones with this idea. Her lips moved slowly to their own beat, forming her own instinctive lyrics, speaking softly yet without sound.

As the drums cut in subtly and I began to feel the bass and vocals drawing closer I realized that it was Wasted Words. I jumped and cheered at this realization, but I was alone in this reverie. Looking over the so called punks in the crowd I realized that most of them probably hadn't heard of Death by Stereo, much less heard them play live, as I had.

Vocals and bass cut in just after I had thought they should and the guitar and drums raised themselves to near ear bleeding levels, the hypnotized listeners grew silent and began jumping and bouncing off of each other like deranged pinballs. Mosh pits formed in the blink of an eye, seeming almost like a reflex. There were at least three that I could easily see.

Kitty began to grind against me, the sweet friction making me want to throw her against the wall and take her right there. Usually, such carnal desires were easily suppressed, but the music was moving me with wild, unrelenting energy, and it was moving me against her.

Apparently, she had the same idea; she forced me through the wildly ricocheting crowd and without any warning and shoved my back into the hard brick wall. Her unrestrained kisses forcibly made work of my mouth as I flattened against the wall. My hands ran up and down her back grasping, longing. Her fingernails carved a path down my forearm and she took my hand in hers. Careening through the crowd thrashing like a violent ballet she pulled me to the other side of the small room. I could already see where this was headed; the bathroom.

The two of us stormed into the unisex bathroom which was empty whenever music was playing outside, perfect for privacy. Even in there I could still hear the vocalist barking the lyrics in a style admirably his own, or at least fairly different from the original. Slamming me into the far wall Kitty ran her fingers over my hard chest, almost whimpering at the feel of my skin.

"Hold on." She said, making her way to the dingy faux porcelain countertop. From her purse she produced a drivers license, a short length of thin metal pipe, and a packet of white powder. Cocaine.

The pipe was a more durable version of a coke straw, intended for more hardcore addicts who didn't want to constantly be rolling up dollar bills or producing plastic straws. Briefly, I contemplated stopping her. I had seen the hell that drug could turn people's lives into. It took alot of will to keep from stopping her. I told myself that I wasn't the type to tell people what not to do regarding their own lives. This was true, one of my guiding principals, in fact. Still, judgment was almost irresistible in this case. So, I just watched at she cut out a line and snorted it off of the grime covered counter.

Still, I think she got the message from the look on my face when she dropped the straw and looked up at me.

"Now, we can party!" Her face, observing mine, soured. "Don't you f*****g judge me!" Her tone was suddenly violent, yet a tinge of hurt shone clearly through the anger.

"I... no." It was all I could do to stammer a startled series of gasps.

"F**k you, Matt. I know your type, all out for the party; you love the end result. Why do you hate the process?"

Already, blood was pooling at the bottom of her left nostril. I knew this wasn't how she saw herself, as I did, a coked up, sad little girl, bleeding. Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed her by her shoulders.

"Get your f*****g hands off me Don't you f*****g touch me, you b*****d." Her attempts to free herself from my grasp came out as a series of tortured spasms and scratches of her fingernails on whatever of my skin her hands could find, wholly ineffective as I tightened my grip on her shoulders, fingertips digging frighteningly deep into the skin exposed by her spaghetti straps.

"Listen d****t," I bellowed, "look at what you've become. You're hurting yourself, goddamnit, you're bleeding."

"Get the f**k away from me." She paused, a calm and cocky air coming over her. "You didn't seem to mind the coke when I was dancing with you." Again, her mood changed abruptly. "F*****g hypocrite."

"How much have you done?" Mentally, I answered my own question. She had seemed a little off when I arrived and she went to the bathroom first and second songs, and now. That came to at least three lines in under fifteen minutes. She began to yell wildly and undiscernibly in response to my accusation.

There was only one way for her to see what she had done to herself. Take the direct approach. The last ditch effort and the hardest way of all. Force her to see.

My hand moved quickly from her right shoulder to her face. In a combination of heightened speed and instinct, she pulled nearly free of my remaining hand. If only by reflex built on the streets of hell, I maintained my grip on her, moving quickly with her body, not allowing her to pull away from me. Desperate, she tried to throw herself to the cruddy tile floor and with a pulse of adrenaline and the whole of my upper body strength I pulled her up and slung her to the mirror. Hand gripping her hair I controlled her movement, momentum almost overcoming me, her face nearly met the glass, pulling a surprised yelp from her. Outside, the music died in an abrupt thrash.

Long and hard she studied her face in the mirror. When finally she looked back to me her eyes were full of tears. "I'm sorry," she cried, pain now easily permeating her voice. In the mirror I could see the blood clearly running down her upper lip. I relaxed my grip on her, letting her stand free and see clearly what she had become. In a crimson drop, blood fell to further taint the countertop.

With a shuddering creak, the bathroom door opened. Kitty turned in a flash, the speed of her movement sent fledgling tears flying wide. Their faces look to her then me, and with me their pity turned to anger.

Embarrassment consumed her and she ran swiftly through them. I followed through the hole she cut, after seeing the looks on their faces I feared a lynching if I had stayed to try and plead my case. Besides, in the coming hours she would need a shoulder to cry on and there was none better than mine, even though I was the one who had forced her into tears.

Exiting the club through it's front doors, the cold yet muggy air hit me hard, my body now reeling from the aftereffects of spent adrenaline. But, more importantly than how I felt, was what I saw. Empty streets in front of me; she had vanished.

Her story picks back up nearly a month later in a coffeeshop. I, nor anyone, had seen her since the incident at the youth center, so when I saw her on the street I invited her out to for coffee.

So here we were, sipping an overpriced yet delicious gourmet blend at a table by the window.

“So,” I started, “where have you been? No one at school has had so much as a clue where you've been. It's like you just dropped off the face of the Earth.”

She looked down in to her coffee and brought it to her lips. She savored the drink and briefly smiled. “I've been bouncing around, not really having anywhere to stay...”

“You never went home?”

“I was too angry after I left the youth center... Ashamed maybe. I don't know. I couldn't show my face at my Mom's and I haven't seen my Dad in years. It was hard to be so low with out something to just pick me up, let me forget. The more I remembered, the more I realized you were right. I never wanted to be a tool. I just wanted to have more fun. I never thought that meant that I wouldn't be able to have fun without it. I just want to be able to have fun, when I want to, how I want to.”

Daddy issues, huh? Well, that explains alot. My numerous psychology courses told me it was most likely the fault of a mother who became overly permissive in her husbands absence. Then again, the fact that she was on a drug like cocaine suggested that there was heavy authority somewhere in her life that she was rebelling against, and though I could easily believe this came from her father, I suspected something more recent; so I asked her, "Were you living with your grandparents recently?"

"My uncle, actually.” She smiled, a slight bitter tinge disrupting what would've seemed like happiness. She stared down into her steaming cup, cradling it in her hands. “Just while Mom was in jail."

"In jail? For what?"

"Prostitution. I try not to hold it against her; I know it must be hard raising two daughters as a single mother but... prostitution? In fact, that was when Sis left home."

"How old were you?" I leaned closer to her trying to bring her eyes back from their coffeecup staring match. Slowly, she began raised her head.

"About eleven. Sis was seventeen, she actually managed to get emancipated, find a place, put herself through college and she still found to time to visit me. That's why I was hoping she would let me stay with her instead of having to go back to Mom. I know it sounds weird but even though it was tough on the streets,I don't think I could go back home now. I've found freedom and I don't want to let it go." She locked eyes with me and I could feel how serious she was.

"Do you think she'll still be up this late?" I remembered the clock in the car reading 10:37 when we had pulled up.

"It might be, I don't know. But I think she would let me in." It was good to see Kitty smiling again.

The waiter approached our table and started asking if we wanted refills. I had noticed that Heavenly Grounds had a deal where you could get any drink refilled for half of its original price, which was unheard of in the gourmet coffee drinks business. Of course, I also noticed that the wait-staff only mentioned this deal when your cup was more than half full, there by actually negating the savings. And if you were drinking espresso, like I was, that most likely meant your drink would get little more than topped off with foam.

I quickly downed the second half of my cup of espresso and handed it to the waiter. "I'll take that to go."

He looked down at the cup, almost pouting. "Uh... We don't do refills to go, but I can get you another cup for the road."

Kitty handed him her cup, which was just less than half full. "Same for me please."

"Ok." He said and walked off hastily.

Kitty laughed as if she was holding it in the whole time.

In just a few minutes the waiter was back with our cups and a bill. "So, I guess were going now?" Kitty asked.

I looked blank faced at the bill. "He only charged you for a refill."

"Maybe because I didn't polish mine off before I handed it to him." She said with as mile as we walked to the register.

When we made it to the car she asked,"Mind doing me one more favor?" I just couldn't say no to that face.

"Sure."

"There's a truck stop by the highway that has free showers, mind taking me so I can freshen up before I drop in on my sister." Smart girl. I had been in her situation it had taken me forever to learn about those and shes had picked it up in only a few weeks.

"Of course, its not like it's all that far away."

"Thanks." She said and ran around my door to hug me, practically jumping into my arms. had a distinctive smell to her body but not a bad one. I guess most girls get off easy in the body odor department. Her shirt, on the other hand, felt grimy against my bare arms, like it had been slept in and sweated in for awhile.

Not much was said as we drove to the truck stop. She did insist on having her window rolled down most of the way even though it was a remarkable cold night for this time of year, obviously self conscious about her perceived odor. Why are girls always sensitive about that? Personally I haven't met too many girls whose sweat I wouldn't personally lick straight off their bodies. Except, of course, for the ones I wouldn't lick under any circumstance. , needless to say, Kitty wasn't on that list.

We showed up at the truck stop at the same time as a Krispy Kreme truck. So while Kitty was getting her shower I was waiting behind the donut delivery guy who was loading a what looked like a drink cooler remade to hold donuts. I licked my lips, finally I would be able to get the first and freshest out of the machine.

He seemed to be taking his sweet time loading the thing so I walked to the other side of the room to grab a drink (ginger ale, in case you were wondering, I had already had enough caffeine tonight and I did need to sleep sometime).

Drink in hand I turned in time to see the delivery guy leaving the store. About time. began to strut to the donut case. About halfway there a cop showed up out to nowhere and grabbed a glazed donut out the the machine. I stopped dead in my tracks. Oh, f**k it all, where did he come from? his single donut in hand he walked out the door and into his squad car.

Disheartened I grabbed a donut and payed for my stuff. From over my shoulder I heard, "ooh, blueberry glazed, my favorite." I turned to see Kitty standing there wet haired and red faced.

I handed her the donut. "Here, you can have it." I said before trudging out to the car.

"Hey! Wait up, what was all that about?" She asked before biting into the donut.

"It's a long story. Oh, by the way, do you want some clean clothes to go with your shower?"

She waited until she finished chewing to answer,covering her mouth as she did. "Sure."

"Ok, I'll swing by my apartment before I drop you off."

Her jaw dropped and I swear I saw a few bits pf unchewed donut fall out, though in the dark it was hard to tell. "You...have an apartment? Of your own?"

"Yeah..." I tried to shrug it off as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I'm kind of an orphan. I got sick of group homes so I started working my a*s off to get my own place." I was really getting to be a good liar. Now if I could just keep my lies straight. Of course this was as close to the truth as any of my lies had been so it should be easy to remember.

"That's... Really awesome. I wish I could do that."

"Why not? It's really not that hard if you're motivated, and I think you've found your motivation."

I got in the car and started it up, as much as I liked Kitty I had to get this over with so I could go to sleep. It would probably be easier if I asked her to stay over but Rosemary might be a little much to explain.

My apartment lay just between the interstate and the main city area so luckily it was on my way back to drop off Kitty. I parked in the open space in front of the stairs and we climbed the two flights in awkward silence. In front of my door was an envelope. I picked it up immediately noticing that there was nothing on the front but "I'm sorry I missed you." I unlocked the door and the two of us stepped inside. I flicked on a light and place the envelope on the table by the door, thinking I would get to it later.

"This way." I said and lead Kitty through the living room and down the hall to my bedroom. Inside I made my way straight to my closet and shuffled through my clothes. Kitty looked to be about a size three but with her hips she could be closer to five, but I had a pair of pants in size four that should work.

I tucked the pants under my arm and began my search for a shirt. The only things I had that wouldn't look too baggy on her were a few rather tight shirts that looked better on me back when I used to visit the gym in the club house of the gated community back in Foxton. Of course, they still looked pretty good on me but the effect of the muscles had begun to fade as I no longer had the time to work out. Maybe I should join a gym or something?

Then, just as I was about to grab one of those tee's I saw the perfect shirt for her. It was tight fitted, artistic and had just enough attitude to suit her. Across the top it read, "Original Sin".

I pulled the shirt out of the closet and turned to hand them both to her. She gave the shirt an inquisitive look.

"That was the shirt you were wearing when we first met." I turned the shirt to look at it. I'll be damned, she was right. "I can't take that, it's, like, your favorite shirt isn't it?"

"So? I want you to have it now." She looked at me with a wide-eyed gratitude and then jumped off the bed and into my arms. I felt a jab in my chest and pulled back.

"What?" She said looking down as the floor nervously.

"Oh!" Just realizing what she must bethinking I quickly replied, "the clothes hanger; it stabbed me." I tossed the clothes onto the bed and wrapped my arms around her.

"Thank you." She whispered, her lips almost making contact with my earlobe. I shuddered.

"You know, I think you were right." She said looking at my alarm clock. "It's almost twelve, and I know you must be tired. I couldjust stay here tonight."

Even though I had been hoping it wouldn't come to this I really was dreading driving back into town.

"I could sleep on the couch if you want. It is a nice looking couch." She suggested, eyes pleadingly focused on the bed.

"No. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you do that. You should take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch." Then I added, with a smile,"it is a nice couch."

"We could share the bed." She suggested with a foxy grin. "There's plenty of room."

A voice in the back of my head screamed if you're any kind of man you'll throw her down on that bed right now, resisted the urge. "True." I agreed, trying not to sound enthusiastic.

She took off her shirt and climbed into my bed. She was wearing a rather plain bra but with the body underneath it that didn't matter much. I couldn't help but notice how her hips stretched out beyond the waist of her pants in the form of love handles that I was just dying to grab onto.

I threw myself on top of her and almost instantly felt a pang of guilt and rolled off onto the other side of the bed trying to make the whole motion seem as natural as possible. Yeah, that's exactly what I meant to do. Right. looked at me with longing and removed her pants; never once taking her eyes off of me as she did.

"You're so tense Dean, you should relax." Her smile really made me want to follow that advice, but I knew I really couldn't. I had a feeking that I knew what would end up happening if I relaxed. Even if Felicity had said I could forget it it went against my principles to sleep with two girls on the same day much less the same night. And besides that my principles had already taken enough of a beating already.

"I wish I could, but there's just so much going on." Which wasn't exactly a lie, and while I was on a roll of telling the truth, "I saw my mother yesterday..."

"Yeah? What was that like?" Kitty sat up in the bed and looked down over me as I took off my shirt. That probably wasn't the best decision I could've made at the moment considering what I was trying to avoid here but I had really opened a big can of worms and it was easier to strip than talk. Besides, I had to take it off sometime, so why not now?

"Well, your mother... mine's still in jail. I haven't been to see her in awhile." I was having to consciously contract my chest a bit just to take a breath. Of course, the fact that Kitty was running her hands over it tenderly, lovingly fingering the creases between each of my abs might've had a little to do with that as well. My chest almost tingled under her fingertips. Uh oh, better start talking.

"So I went to see her... And it was bad. The way they treat her in there; Like an animal, like a murderess." No irony there. I turned from looking down absently to looking directly at Kitty. "I drove all the way out to Colorado. She's got three years left." She was serving a 15 year sentence for "manslaughter". "Just in time for me to start drinking." I finished bitterly.

"Wow. You know, after awhile you get to thinking you're the only person out there with a fucked up life." Then, as if she was only then realizing what she said she looked down at the bed with a bit of shame in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I really should think before i speak." Kitty then gave along, awkward pause that gave me a second to think about my Mom's case. My Aunt had told me once that the reason my mother had had such a hard time winning her case was that she had never called the police or in any other way reported or even recorded the abuse. She also told me that Mom said it was all her fault that he was like that anyway, which even being the standard in abused spouse logic, seemed a little odd.

"You said you were sorta an orphan; where was your Dad through all this?" I started taking off my pants right about then. Partially, it was so Kitty's meandering hands wouldn't get the chance to do it for me, but also it was to give me time to think of a delicate way to say what would have to be said.

"He... He died just before she was put in jail."

"Oh..." She said, almost in a gasp, as she withdrew a bit. "I'm sorry to bring all this up but I realized I really don't know all that much about you and..." And she just quit talking. She leaned in and rested her head on the shoulder nearest to her and ran a hand over my chest finally finding a resting place on the opposite shoulder.

We kind of froze in those positions for a while, both of us deep in thought and enjoying the moment. As I stared at the poorly stuccoed ceiling she stared intermittently at the side of my face, either lost in thought or trying to read the deep mysteries of my solemn expression. Either way, we had finally relaxed ourselves and I enjoyed the comfort of her embrace.

As the clock finally struck twelve I started getting restless. Really, as much as I was starting to hate the overly responsible, nagging voice in the back of my head, I really did have to get some sleep.

I turned to look Kitty in the eyes and for a moment forgot my worries and was lost in their vivid green depths. "You want me to turn off the light, don't you?" She interjected with a giggle.

"Well, you are closer." I answered softly and with a tired smile.

"Gah. Dean, you're such an old man." She smirked as she slowly slipped out of bed. Watching her plump, round a*s move up and down under her panties I thought to myself, I can still be a dirty old man. Quickly realizing that I had admired her body a little too much to keep things under control I pulled the covers to my navel hoping to make the tent her a*s her helped pitch much less noticeable.

I watched her silhouette as she saunter back to the bed, pale moonlight filtered by the thin curtains illuminating her pale skin. She snuggled up under the covers, pushing her body up against mine as I tried to subtly arrange the covers between us so that I wouldn't be poking her in the back all night.

I snaked an arm under her pillow and threw my other over her and rested it on the soft part of her belly right above her pantyline. It was the first time I had ever slept with a woman like this; without the usual sexual pretext that is typical of a man and a woman sharing a bed. I have to say, I was incredibly comfortable and at peace, as if I had momentarily found purpose in my hectic life. This was the kind peace that blanketed you in a soft warmth like standing naked under the sun. Or it could've simply been her body so close to mine; I couldn't be sure.

I leaned in close to her and my body relaxed from the core outward. I could feel my breath fan out over the smooth curve of her shoulder and feel the chill of it passing through her.

I kissed her skin softly where her neck met her shoulder and drifted off to sleep.