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Author’s note: This is probably the most disappointing chapter I wrote for this story. If you haven’t read ‘Ya Can’t Refuse’ yet, I’d suggest reading it now since this chapter will make more sense that way. Anyway, though, I could have easily taken this chapter out if not for Ivy’s crying at the beginning and the scene between Ivy and Benjamin at the end that leads quite well into chapter eleven. The middle scenes will be humorous to some people, I suppose, but in the end it’s just essential filler that I wrote this January in Utah when I was awake either too late or too early and needed a distraction from real life (read ‘Venus’, ‘Falling Earth Burning Stars’, ‘Rebirth’, and ‘Redwood’ for insight into this).
Disclaimer: My ‘title song’ for this chapter actually comes from a very strange source: Stephonic was a band on the New York City club circuit in the late 1990s. I never heard them play; I have never heard this song. However, their drummer, Helene Stapinski, wrote a book called Baby Plays Around about her experiences in the band. I read it a few years ago and loved it, therefore, I decided this particular lyric, from their song ‘Nightlight’s Glow’ (lyrical credit to Julie Stepanek) gave voice to the feelings of Ivy, Georgia, and Allison, and was therefore perfect for this chapter. Tribeca is property of Subaru. Sportage and Amanti are property of Kia. Suburban is property of Chevrolet and GM. TownCar is property of Lincoln and Ford Motor Company. A4 is property of Audi. 95 is property of Saab and GM. 530XI is property of Bavarian Motor Works.
Also, look for my reference to Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest in here.
"Girls"
“We know that the world is for the misfit girls” –Stephonic
Ever since Chelsea’s e-mail, I’ve been reading The Cleveland Plain Dealer online obsessively. All I learned was that the trial was delayed. But finally, on an afternoonin early December, there was news. Her mother was quoted in a report by Damian Guevara as saying: “I just want you to know that monster should never be allowed to see the light of day again.”
I thought about her words. Monster. Was He a monster? I certainly didn’t condone his behaviour, but… I had liked Him, at one point. As a child, I had never been told that there were no such things as monsters. I had been told that they all lived in Europe and couldn’t get me at night since that’s so far away. It was more reassuring, I think, although I’m sure Devin wouldn’t have agreed.
And then I remembered all the things He had done for me… how whatever I did was always great to him—how He wrote me that recommendation letter, how He exempted me from His exam (although I suppose that wasn’t Him being nice as much as it was me acing His class)… but what happened that night?
A tap on the shoulder, a request. An invitation. I looked around desperately. There She is, talking to Sam Foster, her new boyfriend. Devin is talking to Marcus, Chelsea and Gabe inflatable jousting and having the time of their lives. Where’s Arielle? Alone. For now. She’ll be the one to save me. Save me…
I couldn’t control it anymore. I had to let it all out, tears upon tears. “What they have to say, I may have said anyway,” I sang. I didn’t need Benj and his bass. All I needed was my voice, I knew what it sounded like. But that was all I got out before I dissolved. Editrix editrix editrix, I thought. What if Arielle had come one second later? What could I have done, I’m just a weak little girl, He was so muscular… I needed Arielle to stop Him. You owe her your Life, I thought. But she’s studying opera at Miami! Which of course dissolved me into even greater tears.
And that’s essentially the state that they found me in. ‘They’ being Georgia and another girl, whose hair was tied under a bandana.
“Ivy?” Georgia asked. “Ivy, are you all right?” She touched my back like a concerned parent, which is maybe what I needed right then.
“No,” I mumbled. “Not all right, never will be.”
“Oh, come on,” the other girl. “It can’t be all that bad.”
“Obviously you’ve never ruined someone’s life before,” I said.
“Of course I have,” she said darkly. I turned and faced her and saw that there was absolutely no way she was lying.
“Sorry,” I said. “Ivy Soerensen.”
“Allison Gliiat,” she said. “We’re taking you to the mall.”
“The mall?” I asked. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love the mall. At least, I love Beachwood Place and Chapel Hill in Ohio. But I hadn’t even known there was a mall in Ithaca. And Georgia and Allison seemed to be the last girls to be mallrats.
“Yep!” Georgia said, giggling. “To Algernon!”
“The mall’s name is Algernon?” I asked.
“My car is named Algernon,” Allison explained.
Now, I was quite eager to figure out what sort of car would be called Algernon. My car’s Bjorn because he’s Swedish, my mom’s is Ivan the Beast because he’s a giant minivan, and my dad’s two BMWs are Roland and Johann. But what was an Algernon?
When we got to the parking lot, I found out. An Algernon is a huge-ass Lincoln TownCar from the nineteen-eighties. Leather seats. Wood trim. It looked like something my grandpa would drive if he wasn’t driving Ernest, his similarly gigantic Jaguar. “Interesting car,” I commented.
“It was my mother’s,” she said. “Get in.”
And I did.
“So,” Allison said. “I hear you and Georgia are in a band.”
“Nose Foreigner,” I said.
“Wanna play the stage name game?” Georgia asked me.
“The what?”
“You take your first and last names and try to form a pseudonym with the letters and sounds from them.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Like, I’d be Lynn George,” she said, “for Linderley.”
“Okay,” I said. “So, what would Roger be?”
“Easy,” she said. “Lawrence Rogers, Both his names are first names.”
“So’re Tom’s,” I said. “Tom Johnson. John Thompson.”
“So I guess the only two left are you and Benj,” Allison commented.
“Well…” I said. “Mine is impossible. The only thing I have is ‘Rensa Sorvison’, and who names their kid Rensa?”
“You work with what you get, Ivy,” Georgia said. “Rensa Sorvison. And Benj?”
“Mark Lathben,” I said. “But ‘Lathben’ doesn’t seem like a real last name to me, and I’m not sure if ‘Mark’ works so well either, since there’s no ‘k’ anywhere in his name.”
“You’re analyzing this far too much,” Georgia said. “It’s just supposed to be fun.”
“Right,” I said, blushing. Why did I have to overanalyze everything?
“What?” Allison asked from right behind me.
“Just the ski pole sizes,” I said. “They only go up to six-foot-five.”
“Yeah, so?” she asked. “You’re no taller than I am.”
“She’s not thinking about herself,” Georgia said. “She’s thinking about Benj.”
“She likes Benj?” Allison asked.
“No,” I said, “I don’t. We’re friends, bandmates, that’s all.” I saw the dubious looks on their faces and shook my head. “Come on,” I said. “Since when are you guys into skiing anyway?”
They laughed and followed me out of the store. They were right, of course, that I was thinking of Benj, but that didn’t mean I liked him. It just seemed unfair to me that Rossignol didn’t make ski poles to fit him, if he ever felt like skiing.
The next store was Borders Express, which I thought would be a neutral-enough place to go until I saw two things:
one—the newest book by Vince Flynn, His favorite author; and
two—the manga shelf, with volume three of Ceres, Celestial Legend staring straight at me.
Urakawa and Hayama, I thought. God no. “Ya know what?” I asked Georgia. “Let’s just go to the food court.”
So we did. There was something cool, almost bohemian, about eating Bourbon chicken and lo mein noodles with those two. The chemistry between them was obvious, but it wasn’t as if they were excluding me.
“Okay, what’s the strangest career you’ve ever imagined for yourself?” Georgia asked. She had brought her flask with her, and so of course she was spinning. Good thing Allison’s driving, I thought. “Lady Gliiat, you may go first…”
“’Kay,” she said. “Figure skater. I thought I could be the next Michelle Kwan or something. Nevermind that I could barely skate half the rink without falling. Also nevermind that I was too old when I started to get very good at it.”
“I had the same thought once,” I said. “But I don’t think it’s the strangest. Georgia, I’m gonna need a drink of that before telling—“
She passed me the flask. “Fuck,” I said. “What was that?”
“Vodka,” she said. “Duh.”
I drank some more, and then said: “You know how some car names are so stupid? Like, who names an SUV Tribeca, when, if you were in TriBeCa, there’s no way you’d want to be driving a Tribeca, because there’d be no place to park it? Or what about Sportage? Sounds like a car that you carry between rivers. And Suburban is completely sending the wrong message to all SUV-loving idiots out there. But then,” I said, taking another swig, “sometimes it’s just perfect. Like your car, Allison- TownCar. Sounds like a luxury sedan, is a luxury sedan. And any car that only has a number, like A4 or 95 or 530 XI? Those work. As does Amanti, redeeming Kia from their Sportage mistake. So that’s what I wanted to be.”
“You wanted to be an Amanti?” Georgia asked, soundly puzzled.
“No!” I exclaimed. “I wanted to name cars!”
“Oh,” she said.
“Amanti, huh?” Allison asked mischievously. “Isn’t that what Benj drives?”
“That’s not why it’s a cool name,” I protested. Why were they trying to hook me up with Benj? I didn’t like Benj.
“Guess it’s my turn,” Georgia said. She started cracking up before she could speak. “A prostitute,” she said, cackling through the alcohol. “A prostitute.”
“Ah, hey,” he said. “You girls been having a good time?”
“Way good,” I said. “Way way good.”
“Good to hear.” He went back to his book.
“Oh Benj,” Georgia said, flopping down next to him. “You won’t ignore us, will you?”
“Uh, no,” he said, staring her down over the tops of his glasses.
“Ha-ha!” Allison exclaimed. “Your face is so funny! Ivy, isn’t his face funny?”
Allison, you were our designated driver, you didn’t drink anything, I thought. “Funny,” I said.
“Hmm,” said Benj. “I see you’ve been having some fun. Got any left?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Georgia handed the flask over. “Help yourshelf,” he said. “Although I doubt it’ll get you drunk.”
He took a swig. “Yep, it’s vodka,” he said. “It’s definitely vodka.”
“Well, we knew that,” I said. I climbed onto the couch as well, because of course I didn’t want Georgia to be on it with Benj alone.
“Hi, Ivy,” he said.
“Hey.” I flopped down, my head in his lap. Wow, I thought. I’m tired. Then: Why am I so tired?
“She’s zonked,” Allison commented to Georgia.
I inhaled the smell of Benj’s chest. “Mmm…” I said. “Yum.”
Benj shook his head. “Okay, if she’s saying yum for no particular reason, she needs to go to sleep. Now.”
“Well, you do make a nice pillow, Benj,” Georgia said, “but I’m not sure that’s what she wants.”
“Georgia, get off of me,” he said.
“Ooo. Bossy man,” Allison giggled.
“Follow me, Ivy,” Benjamin said.
“Bye-bye!” Georgia called.
We walked out into the snow and it immediately became clear that I could not follow Benj. “God,” I said. “Could your steps get any bigger?”
He glared back at me. “Probably,” he said. He took one huge stride, then looked back. “You happy?”
“No,” I said. “My feet are all snowy.”
“Ivy, you’re wearing boots. Your feet should be fine.”
“Well, they’re not.”
“Okay, then,” he said. Then he strode back to where I was and picked me up.
“Hmm….” I said, laying close to his chest. “Very warm.”
I don’t remember what happened next. All I remember is waking up around midnight with the memory of arms around me and a few hilarious expressions saved in my mind’s eye.
I slept through the rest of the night peacefully.
