SHITTY LUCK

Mallory swayed to the music. It was ghostly, ethereal. The slow, electrified notes seemed to ride the air, washing over her like a flood. The drums burrowed their beats into her veins, their baritone voices making her pulse sing along. Hot flesh, the skin of the other young revelers, brushed against her. She looked up at the band, her large dark eyes immaculately lined in black. Her hair, a mix of raven and crimson tresses, hung down to her neck. She brushed the tickling locks away, exposing her throat. She sipped her soda, spat it back in because it had gone flat. She reluctantly tore herself away from the music, from the beguilingly androgynous musicians playing their instruments like gods.

Mallory blended in perfectly with the crowd. A black mini skirt with D-rings lacerated her thighs, and bondage strap-chains that crossed over her back and chest, and lastly a black tee shirt with spidery lace sleeves. Her boots, festooned with spikes and silvery rings, clinked and clicked as she walked over to the bar. She slapped her hand on the counter like she had seen people in movies do, and called the attention of the bartender. “Can I have a coke please?” Mallory asked sweetly. The bartender smiled back, warmed with her sugary voice, and went to pour her the drink. The barkeep set her cup on the counter and said, “Two fifty,”

Mallory went into her purse- and found it empty. She looked up at the man and sighed. She was really thirsty. Suddenly three crisp bills were set in front of Mallory. A man with brown hair, green eyes and handsome features smiled up at her. “I got this,” he said, still looking at her. The bartender shrugged and took the money. “Keep the change,” the stranger told him.

“Wow, thanks a lot. My throat was about to spew lava.” Mallory said in that easy way she had with new friends and strangers. His hand hovered over the cup’s rim and then held it by it’s Styrofoam body. He offered it to Mallory. She took it and nodded.

“What’s your name?”

“Mallory,” she replied.

“My name’s Vaughn. Nice to meet you,”

Mallory took a sip of her coke and smiled. She turned to see the band.

“Pretty good aren’t they?” Vaughn asked.

“Are you kidding? Digital Disturbance is the best!”

They began a conversation about the band. Mallory was happy to find somebody to talk to. She had always come to this club, Arizona Moon, by herself. It didn’t bother her in the main because she only came when the local band, Digital Disturbance, played. She heard them now as she conversed with Vaughn:

“Come all children,

To the Arizona Moon,

Dreams of white,

Thoughts of black,

Heralds death all too soon,

Come flock to me,

With open and ignorant hearts,

Heed this lesson well:

All thoughts are dark.”

The singer’s voice melted from his lips like liquid ambrosia. His dark hair, dyed with streaks of purple, framed his sharp face. His white make up was jeweled with sweat. His red contact eyes were filled with the passion of song. His shoulders moved back when a long note poured from his mouth. Mallory knew his name, and knew it was perfect: Jarreau. The name rolled off her tongue like a lover’s kiss, or a lover’s whispered sweet nothings. She would name her son that, when she had one.

Vaughn tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Can we talk outside?”

“Sure.” she said easily.

“I’ll meet you out there. I gotta take a whiz.”

“Cool.”

Mallory went outside and found the car Vaughn had described as his. It was a nice yellow Hummer with a brown leather canopy. She climbed atop the hood and sipped more of her coke. She noticed that it tasted funny, a little bitter. She must have swallowed some of her spit when she drank or something. Mallory rested her head against the windshield and looked up at the stars. The mesmerizing rhythms of Digital Disturbance reached her here. Though it was muffled, it still held a clarity, since Mallory knew every word to their songs. They were performing “Sing Your Pain,” her favorite ballad. Her lips moved silently with the music:

“Let it out,

Let it out,

Sing it,

Set it up,

Set it up,

Bring it,

Sing you pain!

Let me know!

Smother me in blame,

Let the torture run slow,”

There were more words but Mallory couldn’t remember them. She couldn’t separate them from the jumble in her mind. The stars began to twirl and dance wildly, like nymphs in a forest. Her mind was swirling chaotically and she felt dizzy. Bursts of color filled her vision. She was entranced by their shades and tints. There were colors that no one but her knew about. They were all so lovely! She had to tell someone about the wonderful chromatic discovery. Wait, there comes Vaughn, and he’s smiling. Mallory stood on unsteady feet and wrapped her arms around him.

“You-are-so-lovely,” she stammered. She couldn’t remember feeling so uninhibited. And the feel of his warmth seeping into her made the secret space between her thighs moisten. And somehow Vaughn knew this. He eased her onto the car’s hood and climbed atop of her.

“What are you doing, silly man?”

“Shhh,” he placed an unusually large finger to her lips. She heard the rattle of belts coming undone. Her eyes drooped and she sighed contentedly. She hugged Vaughn and fell asleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

EVEN SHITTIER LUCK

Mallory woke up with a pounding headache. It didn’t help either that she was awaken by the screech of tires. She saw through blurry eyes a yellow Hummer race down the highway. She, evidently, was not in the Hummer. She had been left on the side of the road. She tried to stand but a sharp pain lanced her pelvis. She felt a cold stickiness smothered between her thighs. Her shirt and skirt were torn, and Mallory saw bite marks there. They were red and left deep impressions into her bruised flesh.

“Oh my God,” Mallory gasped. The terrible truth revealed itself to her. She had been raped.

Her weak legs could not support her and Mallory collapsed. She was sore and thought she was bleeding internally.

“Bastard…bastard…bastard….” the word became a mantra. She sobbed the word so much that it had lost its meaning.

She screamed, a deep, throaty sound that bounced off the canyons and the prairies. The Arizona sun was climbing the sky and was scorching her skin, parching her raw throat. She cried some more, cursed some more, before she attempted to stand again. The pain was excruciating but she managed to stay on her feet. She began walking on the shoulder of the highway, heavy boots making her progress anything but progress. She could see nothing for miles, only the blue and blinding white horizon. There were no clouds to screen the harsh sun.

It seemed a godsend when a car finally pulled up by her.

“Jesus, you look like shit.” said a man with black hair and december blue eyes.

“Thanks. Can you take me to Tucson?”

“Sure, get in.” he opened the door and let her in.

“God, you don’t know how much you’re helping me out right now.”

The driver, no older than eighteen, said nothing. “I’m Mallory. What’s your name?”

“Cole.”