1,372Chapter Three: Mary's Place
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I was painting, headphones blasting Springsteen, my hair flinging as I bobbed my head to the beat, ladening my brush with bright red oil paint. I don't know what I was painting, but I suddenly had the urge to do it. After Chad died, I suddenly lost inspiration and had artist's block. But now I was jamming to 'Mary's Place', bouncing on the balls of my feet, dragging my paintbrush across the canvas.
"Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain..." I sang, making my sister bang on the door and telling me to shut up, it was five in the morning on a Saturday.
Sorry, dear, but my muse is running on Eastern Standard Time.
And we're Pacific.
Bad, bad muse.
"Meet me at Mary's place, we're gonna have a party..."
Ah, now the subject of the picture was showing up. A little girl in a bright red slicker, polka-dotted rain boots and a duckie umbrella. Splashing in her puddle, she was looking at me with big eyes and a crooked smile. I smiled back and put a little shine on her bright red hat.
"DAWN ALEXANDER LOCKWOOD! SHUT THE HELL UP!"
I blinked and growled. Now smiling happy girl has a big red splotch on her face. I try and rectify the problem, and she ends up with rosy cheeks. Making a satisfied sound, I washed my brush and went for a screaming green color. Her umbrella was going to have froggies too.
You see, unlike the morbid, emo-goths that haunt my art school, I liked to show the happier side of life. The kind that makes you smile and forget about corpses, suicide, bondage, voo-doo, war, guns, etc. I actually had a bout of goth art when Chad died, so I guess I didn't have a total artist block.
Song change. Hah, the original 'Blinded by the Light'.
For the sake of my little sister, I decided to not sing aloud, but lip-sync to Springsteen.
Rainclouds...little sun peeking out, illuminating the puddle, the drops...froggies have little black spots on their backs, right?
What the hell was that?!
A loud bang had come from next door, no real surprise there. I furrowed my brow before I decided to see if Shasta was oh-kay. Oh great, now I was saying it...
I capped my paints, leaving my raincoat girl to smile crookedly at the wall with her rosy cheeks and duckie/froggie umbrella clasped in her small hands. I opened the front door, pulling at my crappy cotton painting tee. Two bucks and three years, talk about a deal, this thing has survived just about every kind of art medium from oils to pastels to icky clay. I hated clay. It made my hands uncomfortably dry. I hated dry hands, they always reminded me of sandpaper.
I went to Shasta's door and knocked lightly; I waited.
The door opened partially and sunglasses were being pushed up the face that appeared there. When Shasta saw it was me, he opened the door a little more to see the rest of me, yawning widely. He was in only a pair of ducky (!) boxers. And the duckies had little penciled goatees and horns. Devil duckies. Cool.
"D-Dawn? What's up?" he asked, yawning again.
"I heard a noise..." I said, motioning to his apartment vaguely. He raised an eyebrow, looking at me funny before suddenly shrieking:
"You're covered in blood!"
I looked down at my shirt, realizing that the girl's rain coat had gotten onto my shirt and was about to say otherwise when Shasta threw the door opened and pulled me in. I was hastily sat down on a beanbag chair while Shasta disappeared into the bathroom. He came back out with a wooden box, its lid had carved flowers and plants and a word in Latin.
"Where are you bleeding? Look at all this-" he started to fuss with my two-buck shirt, tugging at it and ripping it over my head. I was too stunned to speak really, so instead I laughed my head off.
"Shasta! Shasta!" I laughed, grabbing his wrists as they flew around my chest and torso, checking for where I was injured. "That tickles!"
"Dawn, you're bl-"
"It's paint! I was painting!" I exclaimed, giving him back his hands and reaching for my shirt. I went to a red spot and dipped my finger in it, I put a red streak down Shasta's bare arm and laughed some more. My neighbor just looked at his war paint with his eyebrows threatening to break through his blonde and blue hairline. Then he joined me in laughing.
It took five minutes to calm us down, by then, Shasta had rested his elbows on my thighs, burying his head in his arms, body shaking with laughter. That switch went on for a good minute or two, and I couldn't stop staring at his head on my lap, trembling with laughter. Damn, his hair looked soft and silky. I dared enough to reach out and gently grasped a lock of it. Oh God, it was soft!
Well, that made him peer up at me curiously, making me snap out of my stupor. I shoved him off and pretended to dust my pants off.
"It's past freezing point in here!" I say, hugging my chest. He smiled holding my paint-covered tee, "Then maybe you should put your shirt back on."
"Jeez, how can you walk around in boxers? Don't you have a heater?!" I exclaim, pulling my shirt over my head.
"It kinda broke ten minutes ago..."
"Oh...was that bang the heater?" I asked, tilting my head in question. Shasta nodded, rocking onto his heels. He then peered at me closely, and I blinked a couple of times.
Then, his head was against my chest, an arm on either side of me. He was practically pinning me to the damn beanbag and my heart jumped out of my chest and did a loop-de-loop. His hair was tickling my chin and making the switch flick off and on like crazy. I almost felt a sweat break on my forehead as he leaned in closer, his hot breath on my cold skin that stretched across my collarbone.
"Born in the USA, I was born in the USA..." he whispered against my chest. What the-
My headphones! I put them around my neck when I went to see what was up!
"You a Springsteen fan?" I asked shakily. He nodded, his head still against my chest.
Then I felt a hand sneak into my pocket.
NOW WHAT WAS HE DOING?!
I swear I was hyperventilating, as he fished through my pants pocket, then the other one. I was frozen stiff, otherwise I'd be squirming or pressing against his hand. Scary thought.
To my relief, he pulled my iPod (yes, I gave in and got one) from my back pocket. He dragged his thumb on the pad, looking at the lit-up screen. He pressed a button and 'Mary's Place' was once again playing.
"This is my favorite," he whispered into my neck. His breath was warm and made the hair on my neck stand up.
"Mind getting off me?" I asked quietly while the switch was in the 'off' position. His face got as red as the paint and he straightened up quickly.
"Sorry, I hear Bruce, my mind shuts down. And do you expect me to function this early?"
"N-not really," I said, rubbing the spot his head was against before ripping my headphones off and handing them to him.
"Knock yourself out."
Shasta's face lit up and he put the headphones on. He stood up, vaguely moving to the beat, holding out a hand to help me up while he slid his bare foot under the box. Once I was standing, he flicked the box up like a soccer ball, catching it with ease and still swaying to the music pulsing through my headphones.
"From that black hole on the horizon/I hear your voice calling me/ Let it rain, let it rain-" he sang as he disappeared down the hall to put the box away.
I stood up, dusting myself off. I looked around, unsure of what to do. There was a thump to my left, but when I looked over all I saw was a small vase with koi painted on it spinning on the carpet. My brow creased as it stopped spinning. Then I heard another sound behind me, so I swiveled that way. Nothing that could cause it, but a book lay askew on the floor. Now I was getting creeped out.
"Shasta?" I called weakly, my eyes scanning the room.
I jumped when I felt something brush past my leg, letting out a surprised cry. I fell back onto the beanbag, scooting backwards. There was nothing there! My neck made a cracking noise when I turned it this way and that, trying to find what was making those noises.
Then it found me.
Something landed on my chest, it had jumped from the table behind me. Two big green eyes were parallel to mine, wearing holes with their curious but intense stare. I froze.
"Nikko! Get off!" Shasta had come back and was staring at me and the thing, hands on his hips and looking rather menacing.
'Nikko' turned its eyes to Shasta before letting out a very horrible:
"Meow."
I blinked a few times before getting my sanity back. It was just a cat! A damn cat!
It hopped off my chest, trotting over to Shasta, rubbing itself against his bare legs and making more cat sounds. He reached down and picked it up, scratching its ears. It was a calico cat, white with giant splotches of black and orange-ish brown everywhere. It had a black eyepatch, making it look like a pirate. Its ears were black and so were its front paws and the tip of its tail, it had a tan belly and back paws. Its big green eyes stared at me for a second before closing contently and purring loudly.
"Sorry, he likes to sit on people's chests..." the blue-blonde man explained as the calico jumped from his arms to clean itself on a beanbag.
"I was always told calicos were female," I said, crawling over to see if I could pet him.
"Well, he's a calico and he is definetely male. His name is Nikko."
Nikko stared at me, his tongue peeking out from his mouth as my hand inch closer. He decided to playfully bat at it, gnawing lightly on my fingertips before licking them with his sandpaper tongue. He pressed his cheek against my nails, trying to get me to scratch him. I complied and he happily purred.
"Funny, he usually mauls strangers..." Shasta said, scratching his head quizzically before shrugging.
"I didn't know you had a cat."
"That's because I'm not suppose to have a cat here."
"Wait, but the landlord let us keep Whiskey Girl..."
"Yeah, but after that incident with her, the landlord decided to add a new rule. And this was the cheapest place I could find within the area. But I wasn't going to give up my Nikko over something like that," he thumbed behind him, "So I keep him in a room back there and he has a grand old time with all the toys I bought for him. He must have found a way to open the door."
"Your cat can open the door?" I asked skeptically, Nikko nestled and purred in my arms as I pet him.
"And the fridge. He's one smart cat, isn't that right Nikko?"
The calico mewled in response, rolling in my arms to expose his belly to me. I tickled him and he clamped his paws on my hand, innocently biting it. He was very skinny and long, but not that heavy at all. He seemed light for his size. Looking up at me with jade eyes, he licked his mouth and hopped from my grasp. Nikko trotted into the kitchen, tail held up high as he sniffed around the cabinet. I watched in amusement as he got a claw or two between the crack in the cabinet, opening it up. His furry body disappeared inside and I crawled in all fours to investigate. Two jars rolled out and he came running out as though hell was on his heels.
Do cats have heels?
He skidded across the tile floor, no traction for his paws to grab, but he lept and latched himself onto Shasta's devil ducky boxers. Making another leap he clawed his way into a parrot-like position on his shoulder. Shasta winced, his cat's claws digging into his shoulder. Curiously, I pulled the cabinet door open wider and looked inside.
I flew back, hugging the opposite wall, eyes wide as saucers, "Holy shit!"
"What?" Shasta peeled his cat from his shoulder, tucking him under his arm before sauntering over.
I pointed to a jar that had rolled out, averting my eyes, "That! What the hell is that?!"
"That would be," he squinted to read the label, "Skippy."
"Skippy?" I asked, dumbfounded.
"Yep. Skippy Extra Chunky peanut butter."
I blinked. No way, it wasn't peanut butter a second ago! There was a little demonling thing...with sharp teeth and red eyes!
Damn, am I going crazy? Is the incense in his house getting to my head? I shook it a few times to make sure, as Shasta looked at me with his eyebrow raised a bit.
"Dawn? Are you oh-kay?"
"Uh...yeah...I'm fine..." I shakily stood up, unable to get theevil bottledspritestaring at me. It was disturbing to say the least.
"You sure? You've look like you've seen a ghost or something..."
"No, not a ghost..." I cleared my throat, letting out a weak laugh that made Shasta and Nikko exchange glances. That was weird.
"Are you very sure? Do you need something to calm down? I've got some good herbal stuff..."
"I think I need to go home, I left my paints open and they might dry out..."
Shasta's face perked up, "You paint?"
Blinking a few times, I nodded. I never told him I was an art major? Then again, he probably didn't know I was in college. Hell, I didn't know if he was in college! I haven't seen him on campus and he was the kind of guy you couldn't miss. With his wild hair, dark sunglasses, interesting outfits, sexy body-
I hate, hate, hate that switch.
"Can I see your paintings sometime?" he asked excitedly. Nikko was turning his head between us, ears erect and listening, cuddled into Shasta's arm. That cat was interesting.
"I guess..." I shifted my eyes to try and avoid his eager face and that annoying switch.
"Cool! I'll come by later. I don't think Karen'll appreciate it if I showed up in my boxers this early in the morning," he said, gesturing to his cute boxers with his free hand. Nikko's earlier attack pulled them down a bit, earning me glimpse of his hipbone before he yanked them back up, blushing.
I blushed and averted my eyes, the switch was at it again! Curse those devil ducky boxers! I ran my hand through my hair before excusing myself and exiting the apartment. I saw him wave bye, and I went into my own apartment, to my own room, and sat staring at my damn painting with the cursed froggies and duckies playing on a little girl in a red raincoat's umbrella while she splashed in a puddle.
Her hair was blonde and blue.
o-o-o-o-o
A/N: I love duckies. And I have a cousin whose nickname (thanks to my Uncle) is Frog. Don't know why. But I sure miss her...
By the way, Esquirella, I didn't read the part of your story with Niko 'til after I wrote about this Nikko! It's short for Nicholai, and you'll find out why later. Just wanted to clear that up.
Chapter Title by Bruce Springsteen