The black vacuum roared like a night lion over Quinn’s dark blue carpet in her room, picking up all the sand, dirt, and bits of paper and gum wrappers in its path. Quinn’s bangs were matted onto her forehead with sweat, her pink bandana holding the rest of her hair in place, her Abercrombie gray drawstring pants and white wifebeater reminding herself of a Latina cleaning women, shaking her curvy hips to some unknown beat. Her window over her twin bed was open, letting in fresh September air and letting out pulsating tracks from Papa Roach. “Black clouds, they rain down, but they can’t kill the sun” Jacoby sang with his rusty voice, a motto Quinn tried to follow. Cleaning relieved her, cleaning coupled with loud music. It seemed like the only thing she could control and make perfect. With the loud ruckus going on in her small room with teal walls and posters of punk/alternative bands and her snapshots wallpapering the place, it was a surprise that she heard her blue phone hanging on the wall ring with a caller. Hastily, she shut off her vacuum with her bare foot and hurdled across the room, grabbing the phone. “Hello?” she practically huffed into the phone.
“Hi…umm…Quinn?” Paul responded with uncertainty, Paul’s voice catching Quinn off-guard.
“Paul, is that you?” She asked, sitting down on her sunflower down comforter, her hand sinking into the soft inner feathers.
“Yeah, hi,” Paul responded, throwing an empty soda can at Benji, Benji making googily eyes and kissing noises to distract Paul. Paul walked out of the lavish hotel room, the business in Europe over tomorrow, and into the long hallway, the whole floor reserved for themselves and the record label people. Maybe now he could get some privacy. “I was just calling to see how you were doing…”
Quinn was going to respond about her job, her classes, the gray kitten speckled with white spots she named “Freckles” Matt gave her “just because he loved her” or wanted to make up for the bruise she received for talking back to him, but Paul finished his sentence…”With Matt.”
There was silence as Quinn’s brain ran frantically to find a response. The more people, the more Paul pushed about the subject, the closer Quinn inched to telling them the truth. “Things are just fine, Paul,” Quinn assured him, seeing Freckles little head push open her white door, his small body wriggling into her room, Quinn waving hi to Freckles, and Freckles mewing cheerily in response, his black eyes shimmering. “Really.”
“Quinn, I know it’s not my business,” Paul began with a sigh, leaning his back against the bashe wall, the redwood divider piercing into his back, “But you don’t have to pretend you’re happy with me.”
“Paul,” Quinn responded, Freckles jumping on her lap and snuggling in, Quinn’s small fingers grazing through his peach fuzz of fur, “I know you’re concerned, more concerned than most everyone I know, but I am fine. We have our tiffs, yes, but everyone does. Why can’t you just be happy for me, happy that I found such a successful, fun-loving guy, like Joel and Benji are?”
Quinn sounded like a computer program, the way she was reciting the perfect lines to make Paul believe her like some actress. Paul wasn’t convinced, but decided to let it die down. Maybe if Paul gained her trust, she’d be able to confide in him. “OK, I’m happy for you,” Paul lied, trying to sound as joyful as he could, “Just remember you can talk to me if anything is bothering you, OK?”
“Sure, Paul,” Quinn responded, grinning, Freckles gazing up at her as she stuck her tongue out at him, Freckles trying to swat at it like it was a bug.
“We’re coming back to the states tomorrow,” Paul informed her, scratching at a mosquito bite on his arm, holding his cell phone close to his ear, “And I was hoping we could…you know…hang out sometime…with Benji and Joel or something.…sometime. What do you say?”
“Those two are volatile when together with me,” Quinn informed him with a laugh, “They’re always competing for attention, it’s pathetic. What about just you and me?”
“Works for me,” Paul responded quickly, Quinn laughing in response. “Maybe we can go see a show sometime. I can enlighten you on what you’re missing out on?”
“Missing out on?” Quinn responded, suddenly remembering that Paul probably thinks she’s some stuck-up rich girl who is so naïve to only listen to what’s popular and cool. “Sure, you can teach me, can’t you, Paul?”
“Of course,” Paul responded with a chuckle, seeing Joel, Billy, and Benji emerge from the hotel room, Benji skipping back and forth in front of Paul with a clown grin on. “I better get going,” Paul announced, pushing Benji away and strolling with the others down the hall to the black elevator, “We have a show to soundcheck for. I’ll talk to you after I get back into the states. Bye, Quinn.”
“Bye, Paul,” Quinn responded with a smile, clicking the phone off and carrying both the phone and Freckles across the room, Quinn unaware that Matt was standing in the doorway, cold and hard as a statue. Freckles hissed and leaped from Quinn’s arm, leaving shallow scratches in her arm, the phone dropping to the phone with the sharp pain. “Oww,” Quinn moaned, staring up into Matt’s cold eyes. He was always courteous when her mother was home, coming to the door, waiting patiently for Quinn to get her coat and bag, her mother absolutely smitten with his well-manners, but she was working late at the shop and Chris was at a friend’s house. Quinn’s house was Matt’s house as soon as there was no one to see what a monster he us. “Matt…”
“Tell me QT,” Matt began, anger fermenting in his voice, Matt hovering over her like some beast, his eyes constricting beneath his white adidas hat, “Why do I have to come all the way inside after I’ve been honking the horn for 10 fucking minutes? You’re useless, you know that? You’ve probably forgotten that we have to get your fucking Homecoming dress today.”
Honestly, it did slip her mind, but she covered it well. “I’m sorry, Baby,” Quinn mewed, running her hand down his ripped arm, hoping her touch would smolder his irk, but Matt did not budge, “I’ve just been cleaning…”
“Sure you were, you ungrateful bitch,” Matt hissed at her, slamming her into her white dresser, her picture frames and jewelry box crashing together and falling helplessly to the carpeted floor, QT pinned against him, her eyes dropping to the floor so she couldn’t see the cold fire that was burning into her face, “Who is Paul, QT? Someone I should deal with?”
“He’s a friend of my cousins, Matt,” Quinn responded softly, her back burning with pain as she cautiously looked up into his face, Matt’s scowl enough to sent any innocent person straight for a guilty verdict. “That’s all. I met him at my family reunion.”
“That better be all, QT,” Matt cooed, almost like he was sorry, but he never was, Matt suddenly grabbing her wrist and pulling them into his chest, Quinn’s knees buckling with the agony sizzling through her back and now her wrists, his meaty hand cutting off the circulation in her wrists, Quinn looking like some slave being punished by the Pharaoh, her eyes sheening with tears. “You know I love you. I don’t know why you misbehave so. I brought you up, QT Pie, and I can sure as hell bring you the fuck down.”