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The Florencia Lozano Homepage - Fan Fiction


ART OF THE DARK

BY SHADY & CABBIE ESQ.

CHAPTER

11





PART ELEVEN

RJ pulls up to the curb and shuts off the car, taking a moment to just breathe in and out a few times. God, what a fuckin' day, he thinks, as he flexes his right hand, still a little sore from punching Todd upside the head...from slapping some sense into him. RJ inhales and exhales a few more times, deep, cleansing breaths...then he sniffs, grabbing his phone and getting out of the car. As he adjusts his jacket, he looks the area up and down, more out of habit than anything else. It wasn't like this kid lived in a high-crime neighborhood...but still...one could never be too careful.

He sighs, as he takes long, cool strides around to the back door of a lovely, upper middle class house. Do I knock? he wonders, not knowing if his hired geek's parents are home. He debates for a few seconds, then raises a hand to knock...

...when the door suddenly opens. RJ sighs again, dropping his raised fist as he looks upon the kid...tall, skinny, young and very white...but still, he wears super-baggy jeans and a Lakers jersey over his white t-shirt. The kid raises his hand up high, as if for a friendly shake.

"Whas'up, fool?" he says, with a dorky smile.

RJ rolls his eyes, and the kid immediately drops his arm. "Sorry," he says, meekly. A few awkward seconds pass...then RJ shoots him an impatient glare.

"You called?"

"Oh, yeah...c'mon in," he replies, stepping aside. RJ cocks an eyebrow...and the kid laughs.

"Don't worry, man. Nobody's here but me."

"For how long?"

"My folks are in fuckin' Tahiti, man...they won't be back for three weeks."

RJ makes an mock-impressed 'oh' with his lips, then steps in. He looks around at the tidy kitchen, as the kid shuts the door.

"Want a beer or somethin'?"

RJ gives him another exasperated look...but takes another deep breath before speaking.

"No, thanks. Can we just..." he starts, gesturing to get on with it. The kid nods, then leads him down to the basement. The place changes instantly...from a sunlight-blown, upper-crusty décor to a typical hacker cave, lit only by the glow of two huge flat-screen monitors. RJ takes in the sheer amount of equipment this kid has to play with, boxy contraptions piled on top of one another, connected by miles of wire. The kid sits down in the middle of it all, swinging around in his cushy chair to face the screen.

"Right...lemme just pull this up," he says, more official and confident, now that he's back in his domain. RJ watches as various windows pop up on the screen. Then suddenly, audio blasts from the speakers...Tea's voice...

"They're fine - they're both fine and they're both actually sleeping at the same time."

RJ softens at that...he just has to. Tea had the most comforting voice...so sweet and gentle. It occurs to him just how long it's been since he's heard her voice, seen her face; and he feels a sudden pang of loss at that, noticing her absence, as he watches the waveform on the screen, drawing her every word.

"And I couldn't be happier." Dean's voice replies...and RJ's face darkens again. He hears Tea breathe hard, and can almost picture her...her big eyes wide with shock. The audio stops just then, and the kid turns to look at RJ.

"Okay, so...I worked the shit outta this thing. Pretty noisy, typical city stuff...he's definitely on a pay phone."

RJ rolls his eyes at that. "Well, I figured THAT out for myself. You mean to tell me you dragged me all the way over here for THAT?"

The kid does a slight take. "Noooo," he says, as if to say 'duh.' "God...how lame do you think I am?"

"You don't really want me to answer that, do you?"

The kid cracks up...then, with a smug grin, he hits a few more keys and clicks his mouse a few more times.

"Just listen," he says, as he starts the audio again, louder and noisier this time. RJ hears the background much clearer now, and his eyes widen as he starts to imagine the place in his head.

"Yeah, that's more like it..." he whispers. "...tell me where you are, man."

"Y'know...the police are looking for you - this phone might be tapped."

"Eh, let 'em...it's not like they're gonna find me anyhow."

A pause...RJ and the kid both listen closely, as the background noises fly by...traffic...footsteps...and other voices. The kid keeps clicking and typing, manipulating the audio to raise the background volume even more.

"Hear those voices?"

"Yeah..." RJ says, furrowing his brow...hearing the people that were talking as they passed Shelton by.

"What do you want?" Tea's voice whispers.

"I don't know. Just to hear that you're okay, I guess."

Another pause...more miscellaneous voices, clearer, more boisterous. RJ's eyes get really wide...and he looks at the kid, who grins from ear to ear as he stops the audio again.

"My guess is England. London, probably."

"You sure?" RJ asks, though in his gut, it already feels right. The kid nods.

"I'd bet money on it. I spent a year over there with my folks. I could make out the accent on the other people earlier on, but it wasn't as clear. THAT definitely was, though. Those were ENGLISH babes walking by, dude."

RJ grins at that, nodding. "Alright," he says, taking an envelope out of his jacket and handing it to him. The kid opens it and flips through the bills with that dorky smile.

"Sweet...always a pleasure, Mr. Gannon, sir," he replies, holding out his hand again. RJ looks at him strangely, but shakes his hand anyway.

"Don't suppose you could narrow it down to a specific PART of London, could ya?"

"Mmmm...no, I don't think so...that's really the best I could get out of it. The rest is just the same mushy shit."

RJ nods again, a little disappointed...but relieved at the same time. At least we have SOMETHING to go on now... "Alright. Thanks, man...I'll let myself out."

The kid salutes him as he walks away, back up the stairs and out the kitchen door. RJ sprints back to his car, with a new energy...new hope...and new determination.

Look out, dog...here we come.

He waits outside Dorian's mansion for a long time, watching the glimmering windows reflect the late afternoon sun. They are golden in appearance as they should be - Starr's room should be positively brilliant with rich light . . . it's the only thing appropriate for her kind of blessedness, for her kind of purity. Todd glances over at the bottle of Jack Daniels leaning cockeyed on the passenger seat, it reflecting an altogether different kind of light. No, he hasn't drunk any, not yet at least.

After his brawl with RJ and the subsequent falling-apart thing, he went back to the wrecked penthouse to 'shower, shampoo and shine.' Other than the shiner on his face, he thinks he looks relatively decent - he flips the rearview mirror to get another gander at himself, to reconsider, and studies tired eyes . . . the way his mouth turns downwards. An inherent sadness brushes his features that even he sees. The old scar seems redder than usual and he knows he can't pass for twenty-five anymore. He's not even sure someone will buy that he's thirty. He smacks the mirror away and, with an indignant snort, sits back on the seat again.

How in God's name is he ever going to make up to Starr for what he did to her? Thanks to him, thanks to his fucked-up nature, he handed Starr a memory that will never go away, that will be forever branded on her view of the world. He knows those kinds of memories . . . they stick to the backs of your eyes because they're unique, out of the ordinary. Like his fourteenth birthday... every detail chiseled into Todd's memory because it was gloriously, hideously . . .unique. And in Starr's case, Todd's mistake ends up being a cruel, ironic joke on the non-routinely abused child - had he made it habit to mistreat her, the other day wouldn't have been such a big deal.

Maybe I've been too good to her, maybe she needs to learn a sense of perspective, relativity. What happened was nothing . . . relatively speaking. Todd shudders at the thought that has raced through him. Jesus, where the hell did that come from? He looks in the mirror again . . . and forces himself to see the abused child there in his eyes, the routinely abused child. He knows his logic is faulty - Starr doesn't have this look on her face, he should be thankful for his mistake being out of the ordinary. That's right, he's the one who has to put things into perspective. Not Starr . . .

"You just going to sit there, Todd, or are you going to be a man and face me?"

Blair's chilled voice cuts through the air, stunning him because he hadn't heard her approach and hadn't expected this much hatred - it's thick, dripping blood-like along the edges of her words. The truth is, he'd been so focused on Starr, that he never thought about Starr's mother or her reaction. The coldness persists as she says, "No surprise to me that you prefer to hide like the rat that you are."

Immediately, naturally, he's on the defensive and his instinct is to throw back her insults - he wants to snarl, "Fuck you, you fuckin' skanky-ass bitch." He holds his tongue, though, watching her eyes graze his lips which are in the process of forming an 'f' and then she hisses, "That is your plan, isn't it, buddy-boy? To hide?"

Todd rubs his head against the headrest tightly, exhibiting a twitch here and there of his facial muscles in clear agitation, breathing in deeply to quell his rising temper. He turns yet further and eyes the scotch, which Blair notices.

"Ohhhh...I get it," she says, "You're going to watch us all night and get drunker and drunker, feelin' sorry for yourself because you've finally made the jump - turned yourself into Peter Manning. And then . . . when you're good and wasted, you'll stumble out of the truck and call for your baby girl, crying over how you chased away your wife and boys, how you've abused your precious daughter, crying like a baby because you're so alone and so pitiful . . . you'll call out until Starr has to come and get you so you won't get arrested for disturbing the peace. Isn't that how most drunks behave?" She pauses, seeing the shiner, and then snips, "Oh look, you've gotten into a fight, too. How nice, Peter."

It takes all he's worth to not get out of the truck, grab Blair by the hair and fuckin' teach her to be . . . gentle with him, to just give him a kind fuckin' word instead of attacking him. Not surprisingly though, like with RJ, he finds himself on the verge of tears instead and he can only look downward. His eyes sting and he inhales deeply. Finally he says, "I want to apologize to her."

"You been drinkin'?"

"No."

Blair sniffs at him exaggeratedly and he blows in her face to push her away...and to prove he's telling the truth. She wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand and puts her head back in defiance.

"What's going on with you?" she asks in an accusing tone. "Starr told me everything, how you grabbed her - how you yelled at her . . . she said something about 'rape' and papers and staying out of your things? She...she was crying so hard...I've never seen her crying like that before, " Blair's face softens though and Todd sees some effort on her part at understanding . . . she's really trying. Except it doesn't come natural to her - of course, it hadn't been coming natural to Tea either, lately. Not towards him.

Shrugging slightly, he says, "I guess I'm just a bastard," and Blair lets out a hard breath.

"Oh, that is SUCH a fuckin' cop-out...chickenshit."

"Screw you," he snaps.

"HEY! You don't come clean with me, you don't see Starr. Get it?"

"Shit, Blair...don't play games with me...no fuckin' games." He looks over at her, trying to use his self-pity with her to get into that house; and she narrows her eyes with obvious distrust. He repeats, "Just let me in the house - no games."

All of a sudden, her face lights up with fury again and without warning she pokes angrily at him through the window, "NO GAMES??? You don't want me to play games??" She pokes hard at his shoulder and towards his chest, poking at him, grunting an, "I'll show you games," over and over and he puts up his arm, backing away from her . . . because she's giving him reason to hurt back.

"YOU HAVE SOME NERVE, MANNING!" she finally screams, "You hurt STARR! STARR! You can take out all that crap in your black soul on anyone OTHER than her, got me?! YOU IDIOT! YOU SELFISH IDIOT! YOU HURT OUR LITTLE GIRL! YOU HURT HER!"

He throws open the car door and steps out, she lunging at him, swinging at him, "YOU STUPID, STUPID BASTARD!!"

He grabs her arms though, because she's only asking for trouble - and he's needing to do something to protect her. He restrains her, twisting her around so she's facing outwards, her body pressed against his chest, "SHUT UP!! Don't you think I know that I hurt her?!! Why do you think I'm HERE?! I want to APOLOGIZE. . . "

Blair's eyes wet with tears, "YOU SONOFABITCH!! All the apologies in the world won't take away the hurt you gave her!" Jerking herself out of his grip, she screams something he can't understand and really doesn't care to understand. She looks back at him breathlessly, her face streaked with mascara, looking ugly to him. He glares, he can't help it. Anger and intense regret swishes in his mouth, a repulsive taste. Minutes click by as they both get a hold of themselves. He curses quietly and reaches into the truck, grabbing the bottle. He fingers the label . . . and tosses it back onto the seat. Shuts the truck door.

"I don't know what's going on," he says at last beneath his breath. "Things for Tea have been bad. The way she's been acting . . . something in her eyes . . . something's been wrong." His voice drops to a level that makes Blair think he's talking more to himself than to her. "We made love and she looked at me with . . . total fear. Nobody's looked at me like that since . . . since . . . "

Blair finishes his words, loudly, "Since the day you tried to rape me?"

He's quiet. "I didn't hurt her in that way, so why would she look at me like that? She's my wife... I'm so past . . . "

"Well, gee, Todd...you ever think MAYBE she's still squirly from the kidnapping?" Blair interrupts, sharp and sarcastic; and Todd's eyes suddenly flash with a renewed awareness of her, drawing attention that she doesn't really want...so she backs off, a little.

"Look...I don't know," she says, quieter, "Whatever's going on with Tea...is between you two. I don't wanna know, really, and I sure as hell coulda done WITHOUT the details of your sex life." Todd glowers and she sniffs at his bristling, dismissing his problems which she could care less about - really.

"She seemed alright when I talked to her."

Todd focuses in tighter at that. "What did she say to you?" he asks, and Blair gives him a strange look, shrugging.

"I don't know...uh...I just, asked her if she wanted to come over here for a while. She said no," she replies, shrugging again. Todd tips his head back a little, deciding whether or not she might be covering for Tea; but then as he looks at her makeup-streaked face, he realizes again...that no matter how much she tries, when it comes right down to it, Blair only really cares about...Blair.

"Besides," she continues, "None of that has anything to do with Starr - that's a whole separate thing and shouldn't be affecting HER."

Starr...right...focus on Starr right now, Todd has to make a rough shift in thinking, pausing long before replying. "Look, you don't understand . . . I was upset with what was happening with Tea . . . and I walked in on Starr surrounded by those newspaper articles . . . buried in all that STUFF. There she was, beautiful and sweet, her voice so . . . sweet, and she looked at me . . . And . . . " He can barely say it, he feels sick. "I watched her mouth . . . and there it was . . . on her lips . . . the words, 'Marty' and 'rape.' Marty, Marty...and rape. Jesus fucking CHRIST. I'm never going to be free of it, Blair . . . NEVER, NEVER, NEVER. Don't you get it?"



PART TWO

2002 Copyright by Shady & Cabbie Esq.




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