My armor is complete. But then I catch my reflection in the cracked mirror. My jaw tightens as I take in what Dizzy saw. The face of an angel, isn't that what they always said?
They. They.
Them.
I see the same inventory Dizzy does: large blue eyes, soft skin, blond hair kept hidden beneath a wig. But there's more than meets the proverbial eye here. There's something else that he doesn't know about. That no one knows about. There's a darkness living inside me. A blackness that sleeps in my belly like a coiled snake.
His name is Wilson.
Chapter Three
Monsters
It takes us twenty minutes of walking through the sticky night to get to Havoc. Dizzy leads me to the side of a white brick building and into an alley that reeks of spoiled food.
"What's going on, creeper?" I ask him. "Why aren't we going in?"
"We are." He glances around, searching for something. "There." Dizzy half jogs down the alley and then approaches a window. "VIP access."
"We're going through the window?" I ask, wondering why I'm surprised.
"It's packed every night. They can pick who they want to let in."
And that isn't us. That's what he's saying. If bouncers are allowed to pick, they won't pick us. I stumble toward Dizzy, sure my feet are bleeding from the long walk in my ridiculous heels, and stop when something catches my eye. There's a man sitting behind the green Dumpster. He's homeless. A toddler would know this.
His face is mangled in a way that makes my stomach lurch. One of his eyes is missing, a single slash across the space where it should be. His other eye is oozing something yellow. And along his neck is an angry rash that's slowly climbing its way onto his cheeks.
He attempts a smile. "Evening."
His voice is gentle, and I try to return the gesture as Dizzy calls my name.
"Have a good time," the man says sincerely, nodding toward Dizzy.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I dig into my pocket and pull out what little cash I have. I hand it to the man.
"Domino." Dizzy's voice holds a warning.
I move away from the man and toward Dizzy. "Let's go."
"Why did you give that guy our money? Dude looks like a monster."
I eye the man over my shoulder. "I've seen monsters before," I say. "They don't look like him."
They look like me.
There's a tap-tap-tap from behind me, and I turn to see a guy standing inside the window, waving. He slides the glass up and reaches out an arm. Music explodes into the alley as if it's offering a hand, too.
"Hey, big man," Dizzy says.
"Hurry up," Window Guy responds. "It stinks of herpes in here."
Dizzy gives me a boost. Using the guy's arm as leverage, I pull myself through the window. It's a perfect opening. My body slides through the square and lightly brushes the frame. I bet whoever put this window here figured it was immune to break-ins, but they never counted on Dizzy and me.
I land in a bathroom that's covered in magic marker.
For a so-so time, call Trini!
Aiden + Amber = Pimp Juice
Jessika is a LIAR and SKANK
I love it instantly. Just a few more streaks of color and-
Window Guy calls for my help and together we drag Dizzy upward. Halfway through the window, Dizzy gets stuck. In an instant, he becomes a kicking, swinging madman, his fear of tight places overcoming reason.
"Calm down, Dizzy," I yell as I tug harder. "Just. Calm. Down."
I pull backward with all my might, and he crashes onto the floor. Then he bounds upright as if nothing happened. As if he didn't just have a completely unwarranted panic attack. Dizzy throws me a grin, and a girl with short black hair and red lipstick swings through the door.
"What's going on in here?" she asks. And then, "No. Never mind. Whatever it is, I'm in. That's how I roll." Except when she says roll it's more like roooooooll.
Dizzy slams his hand down on the porcelain sink and points at her. "I like you, girl. I'm going to name you Black Beauty."
The girl gallops and slaps her butt as if she's riding a horse. She is, without a doubt, wildly drunk.
Dizzy takes her arm. "I'm also going to let you buy me a drink."
I'm hurt when he vanishes with the girl. Sometimes I feel like our relationship is a close one, or as close as it can be between two homeless people harboring demons. Other times it feels like I'm standing in place as Dizzy walks away, or perhaps trailing behind as he's a step ahead.
I'm overthinking it. Of course I am. Who do we have if not each other?
Window Guy glances in my direction. He's short and thick and built like a closed fist. He smiles with one side of his mouth. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he says. And then he's gone, following after Dizzy and Black Beauty.