We had a very hard time at first, because we didn't have a car, so we had to rely on buses and on favors from co-workers. Sometimes it worked out, sometimes it didn't. Finally, Jason suggested that I should get in touch with my grandmother. She was my only living relative, besides my three adopted brothers.
I didn't want to contact Grandma Hoyt at first. I was worried that the Sons could use her to get to me, or that she might be in danger. After all, it was the Sons who had shot my parents. They didn't seem to have qualms about killing whoever got in their way. Jason and Hallam were sure that the Sons were out of the picture, so eventually I did.
Grandma Hoyt bought me a car, and started sending me a pretty decent allowance every month. It helped make our situation more comfortable, but I still worked, because I liked having the extra cash. Besides, with Jason working as well, if I stayed home, I'd be alone most of the time. I really didn't like being alone anymore. I got really freaked out when I was by myself in our apartment. I didn't know if I was really worried about the Sons busting in and shooting me or not. But I did know that I got very, very frightened, and I couldn't handle it.
So I worked. That afternoon, I was so hung over and miserable that I really wished that I didn't. But I dragged myself into the shower, got dressed, ate something, and went to work. The night before, I'd left directly from work and gone to the party, and I'd accidentally left my uniform in the staff workroom. When I arrived, Jude was waiting for me, holding my uniform.
"Girl!" he exclaimed. "I cannot believe you are standing!"
"Oh my God, Jude! How drunk did I get last night?"
Jude shook his head in awe. "You were wasted," he said. He handed me my uniform. "Better get changed. We've got to start slinging popcorn in two minutes."
"Ugh," I muttered, taking the uniform from him.
Jude was tall and very skinny. He was a quarter Cherokee, so he had dusky skin and dark eyes. (Like Jason, in fact, who was also a quarter Native American, but Muscogee.) Jude liked to wear heavy eyeliner, but at work, it was against the dress code, so Jude only wore a little bit. He also had three holes in each of his ears, plus a nose piercing. He had to take out all his piercings for work too. The theater couldn't do much about his hair, however, which he dyed various unnatural shades. Currently, his hair was electric blue. Last week, however, it had been bright orange. I'd seen it green, purple, and fire-engine red. Jude also made it a point to paint his nails. At the moment, they were purple and sparkly.
"Come into the bathroom with me while I change," I said. "I want to know everything about what happened last night."
"While you change?" Jude said.
"Yeah," I said. I took him by the arm and pulled him into the staff bathroom with me.
The staff bathroom didn't have stalls. It just had one toilet and a sink. It was for either men or women. Once inside, I locked the door, and pulled my shirt over my head.
"So where did you go?" I asked, folding my shirt and searching for my uniform polo.
Jude wasn't looking at me. He was staring at the floor, like he was embarrassed.
"I'm sorry," I said. "Does it make you uncomfortable that I'm taking off my clothes? I just thought . . ."
Jude looked at me, grinning. "No, girl, you're fine," he said.
"Okay," I said.
Jude took a deep breath. "I wouldn't have left you if I thought you were so drunk," he said.
"I didn't mean to get that drunk," I said.
"You weren't when I left," he said.
"Left?"
"I didn't leave the party," Jude said. "I just started chasing this yummy boy with long blonde hair."
I unbuttoned my jeans and wriggled out of them. "And?"
"Oh, he turned out to be straight."
"Sorry."
Jude shrugged. "Whatev." He glanced at me and then looked away. I was making him uncomfortable. I needed to try to remember that being gay did not make Jude a girl. Maybe I was being rude. "So, what do you remember?"
"Not much. I remember looking for you, not being able to find you, and calling Jason."
"Oh yeah," said Jude, "your boyfriend's intense, isn't he?"
Intense? That was one way to put it. "How do you mean?"
"He hospitalized that guy. I've never seen anyone fight like that. He was like a machine."
Damn it. Why was Jason always getting in fights? "He had to go to hospital, huh?"
"Yeah. Broken ribs."
Ribs? "Dammit," I said, shaking my head. I thrust my leg into my uniform khakis. Jason had to stop this.