Pride's Run (27 page)

This time I came armed. I’d shoved my mom’s
silicone gel boobs into my bra under my vintage Sex Pistols
t-shirt. That made me go from an A cup to a perky B. I was also
wearing my extra special pair of worn jeans that made my ass look
good. I’d considered also wearing my mom’s butt enhancer
panties—she had real body image issues—but decided against it. I
didn’t want to look like a complete whore.

“I’m going to ask real nice.” A trickle of
sweat ran down the back of my neck. I wiped at it. I really didn’t
want to have sweat stains on the back of my t-shirt. The heat in
the club was nearly oppressive. Too many bodies packed into too
small a room.

Chloe eyed me dubiously, black eyeliner
starting to run down her gaunt cheeks. “You did that the last time.
And the security dude was a real dickhead about it.”

“That was before I had these.” I stuck out my
chest and cupped my boobs.

Chloe shook her head, her short cap of
fire-engine red hair swinging. “Do you really think that’s going to
work?”

“Duh? That’s all guys understand. Boobs. It’s
as if they are actually communicating with them, the way they
stare.”

“Well, then, good luck with hypnotizing these
security assholes with your perfect B boobs.” Chloe laughed. “You
should go soon cuz it sounds like they’re getting ready to wrap up
the set.”

She was right. Devon, the girl band member,
stepped forward to roll into her bass solo, her pink Tokyopop
pigtails bouncing to the rhythm. It was the beginning of their
song,
Sin City,
which they always played second to last.
Straightening my shoulders, I made my way, by pushing and shoving,
through the pulsating crowd toward the right side of the stage.

When I reached my destination, there were
three bimbos standing in front of me giggling and jiggling at the
two beefy security guys. It just about made me want to barf. I
actually had to put my hand to my mouth just in case I did.

“Excuse me,” I yelled over top one of the
girl’s bleached blond head. “Can I get a couple of passes?”

The blond whipped around to glare at me. She
had one of those hoops in her nose that made her look like a bull.
I wondered if I waved a red flap if she’d charge at me. She looked
scary enough to do just that.

One of the security guys looked me up and
down. “Sorry. I just ran out.”

I noticed the passes dangling from all three
of the girls’ hands. “They got some.”

“Those were my last three.” He shrugged and
went back to ogling one of the three girls who was wearing a black
fishnet top and nothing underneath. I think her nipples were even
pierced. I managed to spy a glint of sliver when she turned to
glare at me too.

Blondie continued to glare at me. “Why don’t
you run along little girl? Go play with your Goth Barbie.”

I hated when people assumed I was so young. I
was seventeen but short—five feet one—and I got mistaken for
fourteen all. The. Time. It didn’t help that I was small too—a
whopping size one—with petite delicate features courtesy of my mom
who looked like a punk pixie most days with her short spiky black
hair and colorful tattoos covering a lot of her tight compact
body.

So it didn’t surprise me when my hands began
to shake from the anger welling up. I despised confrontation but
right now I hated not having a back stage pass even more. I glanced
up at the stage and watched as Thane moved around with his long
sinuous limbs and silky black hair falling in his perfect pale face
making my stomach clench. I had to get backstage no matter
what.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” I finally
said.

She arched her pierced eyebrow and set one
hand on her ample hip. “Excuse me? Who do you think you’re talking
to?”

I took in her appearance, noticing she wore
cheap purple hair extensions, I could plainly see one of the clips
in her hairline at her temple, and her face was adorned with
several piercings. She looked like she’d been put together with
pins.

I smirked. “Skankenstein?”

The two security guys laughed at that, as did
one of her friends but not the one with her nipples poking out.

“You bitch!” she shrieked.

I didn’t expect her to hit me. But she did.
Hard. An open hand slap right across my left cheek. It stung like
hell. I’d never been slapped before and didn’t realize how badly it
could hurt. I think my lip was cut as well because I could taste
blood in my mouth. I glanced down at her hand and noticed the solid
silver rings on her hand. The bitch had turned them in.

“Hey,” one of the security guards shouted,
“If you’re going to fight take it outside.”

A little crowd started to form around us. The
scent of blood always got teenagers’ attentions. We were like
animals in that regard. I don’t know how many times I’d been in one
of those crowds watching as two or three or more people beat the
crap out of each other for pathetic and irrelevant reasons.

I could read the lips of the guys standing
closest to us as they passed the word on about the bitch fight
about to happen. What was it with guys wanting to watch two girls
fight? I really hated to be in the middle of one, all eyes
watching, ready for the scratching and hair pulling that usually
entailed in a girl fight and hoping for blood.

Usually a loner, I didn’t like a lot of
attention. Preferring to stick to my three or four good friends, I
didn’t much like being in a crowd, except at a gig. But then when I
came to a Malice concert, it was always just between me and the
band. The crowds never bothered me. I just came to hear the music
and watch the sexy guys on the stage—I came for the rock
fantasy.

So standing in front of a fuming blond bimbo
out for blood in a fighting circle surrounded by twenty or thirty
people wasn’t making me feel all that good. Again, I felt like I
was going to barf. I didn’t want to fight. I wasn’t big on
violence; I didn’t even play fighting games on my DS. But I was not
the type of person to back down either. My mom had always taught me
to stick up for myself. Although I’m sure she didn’t mean that I
should punch the shit out of this girl. Even if I wanted to.

Rubbing my cheek, I tried to appeal to the
girl’s reasonable side, assuming she possessed one. “I think for
that you should give me your backstage pass. We’ll call it
even.”

She laughed. “Not likely.” Then she shoved me
hard. I stumbled backwards into the murmuring crowd. Two sets of
hands pushed me back into the circle.
Hey, thanks guys!

It was obvious I wasn’t going to walk away
from this easily. Or at all by the murdering look in the blond’s
eyes. But no one ever said being a groupie was easy.

Not sure what to do, I glanced up and locked
gazes with Thane. He was standing near the side of the stage
looking down at me; the microphone stand gripped tightly, his dark
eyes piercing me. Heat blossomed inside of me. I’d never been
looked at like that by a guy before. As if he wanted to devour me
from the toes up. I put a hand to my stomach where butterflies
started to flip flop around like beached fish.

A rush of something I couldn’t name shot
through my body. Adrenaline or lust, I didn’t know which, but
whatever it was made me feel really good. Powerful even. Sexy. Like
one of the female members of the X-Men. Storm maybe, or Rogue,
maybe even Dark Phoenix before she went insane and killed
everyone.

Whatever it was, I liked it.

Putting my attention back on my blond
nemesis, I decided I needed to act if I was going to get out of the
situation. Faster than I knew I could move, I reached up and
snatched the bull ring from her nose.

She screamed and grabbed her nose with both
hands. Blood seeped between her fingers to drip on the floor.

The sound of her skin and cartilage ripping
made me shiver. Even above the music I had heard it ring in my
ears. I felt bad for liking the sound, but she had it coming.

Her two friends gathered her in the safety of
their arms but they both stared at me with a mixture of venom and
apprehension. I suspected no one saw that coming. I certainly
hadn’t.

In a daze, I looked around me, and noticed
that she’d dropped her backstage pass onto the floor. Leaning down
I snatched it up and smiled. I finally got my backstage pass.

As I hung it around my neck, my gaze met
Thane’s once again. He was singing the last lines of their last
song but he was watching me. And he smiled.

I smiled in return.

OFF LEASH

Renee Pace

www.reneepace.com

I am suffocating inside my plastic lined
steel-barred cage, dying with the thickening silence and quiet
sobbing coming from the other room. Locked inside for more than
half of the day, my body twitches for the feel of the brisk air
that causes my drool to freeze to my face.

Big footsteps lumber down the stairs.
Instinctively I cower as far back inside my cage as possible,
lowering my body to the pee-stained blanket in an attempt to make
my big frame small while keeping my eyes downcast. A whine slips
from me when he kneels in front of the cage. Is he going to haul me
out for a beating? He did it yesterday when I peed.

He stands, glaring at me with eyes full of
hatred but then turns away, and just when I think I am in the clear
he gives my cage a good hard kick, forcing it to almost roll over.
At the last moment, I leap up forcing my legs wide to keep it
upright. Task accomplished, I sit back down and wait.

He leaves. The door shuts loudly behind him.
I relax.

Head on my paws, I try to sleep. Can’t.
Standing again, I can barely turn around. My legs are cramping in
the too-hot musky cage. Gnawing on the bars is useless. I know that
from previous experience, except I’m bored and need to pee again. I
know now not to bark. That gets me nowhere.

I start whining in earnest. My paws push at
the hard plastic frame. I need to run. Doesn’t anyone understand? I
need to stretch. I need to get out.

The doorbell rings.

At first I think she is going to ignore it.
After all, when he came down the stairs she ignored me and sat like
a frightened bird in the other room. The creak of the door opening
excites me. She motions for someone to come into the room. A blast
of frigid air hits me. I can almost smell freedom. Then the door
shuts.

I hear footsteps from the other room as they
move to where I’m caged. Hers are familiar because of the soft
tread. The other steps are hesitant. My head goes up and my ears
perk forward, but curiosity makes me cautious.

I look up. A boy stands in front of my cage.
He’s shuffling his feet and he looks lost.

When the cage gets unlocked I try hard not to
leap out. It’s too much. Stuck in that hole for too long, my back
leg muscles flex with joy and my front paws jump up, almost pushing
her, my owner, over.

A good loud command from her instantly forces
my body to freeze. Following her pointed hand motions, I sit. She
is all business. If I jump up again I will land back in the cage.
Not understanding her words does not mean I don’t understand her
meaning.

I look at the quiet boy. He’s nodding, not
speaking.

My entire body itches to move. I lower my
eyes. I force the stillness. I don’t even prance around. She talks
fast, using hands to speak to the boy. Thrusting the leash into his
hand the boy warily glances at me.

Great, another walker
. I know now not
to get attached. He might last a day or two with me, if I am lucky.
Then he will move on to something easier…something inside where it
is warm.

My heart speeds up when he gives a good tug
on the leash and moves to the door. He acts all business-like, but
the scent of his excitement, like the cool air now coming in from
the slightly opened door is refreshing. We shall see who runs
who.

Chapter 2

Jay

Ten dollars per hour. That’s seventy dollars
a week, which is two hundred and eighty dollars a month and that’s
over three thousand in one year. I am doing math in my head when I
should be paying attention to what she is saying about Ollie. She
needs to slow down. Shit. I think I missed something important but
when she thrust the leash in my hand the frigging dog almost took
off out the open door.
Jesus woman shut the door, it’s freezing
out there
.

She seems nervous. Maybe she thinks I am
going to steal something. We went over all of that before, when I
approached her about the job at the hospital. I heard her talking
about needing someone to walk her dog and I wasn’t about to let my
opportunity to finally land a job pass. She asked me if I had
references. By my puzzled expression, I think she got that I had no
idea what she was talking about. My desperate look at the time
might have helped. I did tell her she could call my school
principal. Not sure she did, but a few days later she called me. So
here I am, inside her designer house feeling like the unwanted
flea.

I hear words like trial run, security
cameras, a code for the back door and not much else. The frigging
dog wants out. Know exactly how he feels.

He’s now prancing, the click of his long
nails driving me nuts while I watch him dance to his own beat. Poor
sucker. Bet he sat in that stinky cage all day. Shit, he even
pissed in it and by the way his body is twitching and moving I’m
guessing he’s got to go again.

The piece of paper she hands me with her cell
number scrawled on it is my acceptance note. At the end of the week
I’ll get paid in cash. Suits me. Nodding, I say that’s great. She
tells me she will be gone when I am done walking Ollie, and that I
have to put him back in his cage, and to make sure the door’s
locked. Guess he’s got a knack for escaping.