1.

the parties get a little redundant; same mistakes made when i get too drunk and the room starts to blur with the body i'm caressing. it might be my own, it might be part of me, but the money on the nightstand catches my eye, and i know it's just some guy.

just some guy. he should be my boyfriend after all the times we've fucked. his name changes, his face changes, but he's the same just some guy.

i've really fucked myself over this time.

2.

i guess i'm not poor; the house is big, and my family is rich. my sister still likes to work, though; she does so at the hot topic in the mall, and some days i follow her and lean against the counter. she tries to ignore me, but we end up chatting if i persist, and i always persist.

"phoenix," she says my name like it's a curse, "you weren't home last night."

i shrug, "i was at michal's. you know him. he likes sleepovers; such a kid, you know what i mean?"

"i don't believe a word you say."

'i don't believe a word i say'

"you're so paranoid, missy. you need to loosen up your top," i lean over the counter to ruffle her already messy spikes, the gelled strands poking my hand.

she rolls her eyes, "i'm buying a new brother with my paycheck."

"i'm getting the fuck out of here with mine," and i get the fuck out of there before she questions with something more than her expression.

3.

i didn't lie about michal, sort of. he likes sleepovers; he knows where i am. he likes knowing that.

michal's one of those people that just doesn't change. he's the parking lot to my car, the rest stop off the side of the road when i drive too long. he even looks the same as when i met him; that was eighth grade. we're juniors.

he just doesn't look like he ever cut the awkward out of puberty; skin stretched over skinny limbs, hands too big, feet too clumsy, zits on his forehead. he really isn't all too bad, though; he knows how to take care of himself with long brown bangs and pretty, pretty eyes. they're gray blue with a ring of yellow around the pupil, rimmed with lashes so thick he looks like he's wearing eyeliner.

he doesn't know how to dress, though, as shown in the favorite transformers t-shirt and too small blue jeans that don't even squeeze his ass right. i lean against him anyway, flirt in every fiber of my being, "michal. i'm bored."

"phoenix. you're a nympho."

we both laugh because it's all sort of true.

4.

i have lots of people that drag me to parties, but nole drags me to them the most. nole's a little fucked up; he has therapy out the load because his brother used to screw with him or some messed up shit like that.

i don't even think he really likes the parties; he just likes to be in a box with all the other people, seeking something like conformity in chaos. he never stays long enough to get to the real fun, but he always says bye to me before he leaves. he's usually got a beer in hand, and he always ruffles my hair. sometimes he's got his chick with him. heather's her name. she's pretty fly for a lady.

today, he lingers. he doesn't have heather with him; i don't ask why. he's sitting next to me on the couch, fidgeting with his hands, looking down at the upholstery. it's bright orange, "hey, uhm, dude?"

i turn to him, "sup buddy?"

"how much do you charge?"

"depends on how drunk and/or high we're talking. you want?"

"no. i'm curious."

"mm, you'd be free," i lean to spread in his lap, and he fidgets away.

"i don't like this."

he sounds too distressed, so i back away and let him breathe, "i'munna run for some shit. you should go home."

he nods. i find some drugs and that night, i charge $5.

5.

something's always a little off with michal, especially after i started making dough. he doesn't like it. i know he doesn't. and he's jealous whenever i flash the cash because he knows where and how i got it. sometimes, i try to seduce that envy, make him rise to the bait and tango. he never bites, though, always just flips me off and lets the desire stagnate.

and really? i'm glad.

6.

missy doesn't know. she thinks she knows, but she doesn't.

"you're in love with michal."

"hell no. that skinny nerd ain't worth bedding."

"you're so mean!"

"so?"

"but you are..."

"no. no, i'm not."

and in that moment, i just want to walk away with the truth on tongue because that so rarely happens.

7.

my first time was with a paying customer. i was fifteen, and he handed me a twenty dollar bill with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. he was fucking hideous, but he had a nice name. johceri. rolls off the tongue.

and i rolled my tongue with his name in mind, and that was how i got into this shit.

sometimes, i still have the mind to blame him.

8.

"you know i love you, right dude?"

nole's sort of cute when you get him drunk. heather's not here again; i think they broke up. don't blame her. guy has issues.

"whatever. faggot."

he chokes on his beer with a laugh, and i kiss him.

"am i still free?" -a ridiculously honest question between our lips.-

"yeah." -a ridiculously honest answer between his legs.-

9.

i go over to michal's because i can't talk him into coming to me. he's listening to something with lots of guitar and a screaming voice; total crap. anything made after the 70's is total crap.

"hey man. what are you up to?" michal looks up at me like he didn't expect me to be there. i frown a little, "seriously, what's up with that expression?"

"i dunno. i didn't think you would come."

"duh. you're like, my favorite person in the world."

that makes him smile, so i know it's okay to sink to the floor and rest my head on his leg. nothing sexualized; just comfort.

"hey."

"is for horses. you're ruining my mood with your words."

"that was pretty damn lame, but dude. i just want you to know that it's okay to be like...this."

i don't know what that means, but i nod.

10.

i seem to end up with lots of twenties. that's all i got in my wallet right now; i pull them out and count. i put them away when someone comes around, joint in hand. she's a teeny tiny little thing with no name to match her face, and she passes it to me, "man, you been getting lame. gotta find you with the drugs insteada' you comin my way. got any cash on ya? i got some weed."

i laugh with smoke, "yeah, sure."

seven fucks for an ounce.

11.

i like the pot because my sister likes it, too. it's the only thing that slips under her radar, the only thing that i can have in the house without getting scolded because the bitch finds everything.

i think i love her for that.

12.

"phoenix?"

nole again. he didn't drag me out this time around; i wanted him out with me, so i called, and he came. he made a joint from the shit i bought from teeny tiny. he smokes it with me and almost hacks up a lung every hit. i don't think he does this much.

"yeah?"

"when we did that, you didn't feel bad."

"you wanna go again?"

he nods, and i take him with a demanding tongue, only to realize halfway through we're not fucking.

nole doesn't fuck; he's intimate and pretty and sweet, whispering kind words and waiting and measuring and making sure everything is okay.

and something, something is off when i stay in bed after we finish instead of running like mad hell.

13.

i refused a trick the night before, and michal seems proud. he makes me stay the night, and we play halo until two in the morning.

"why?"

"why what?"

"you don't refuse anyone."

"i think...i don't know."

"what?"

"i don't know."

"seriously. you can tell me."

"i don't know."

he scowls, shutting off the xbox, "i'm going to sleep if you're going to be like this."

he's sort of cute when he's mad; he sets his lower lip forward and narrows his already narrow eyes. his hair falls in front of one of them, and i reach out to brush it away. he stares at me, before melting. he melts until he's nothing but liquid against my hand, flowing into a gentle kiss that relieves tension that's been growing thick.

i think about nole.

14.

"man, you always got the dough. the fuck up with you?" teeny tiny sounds mad, and she looks mad. her hands are on her hips, "you're my regular, baby. i can't be losin you."

i shrug, "i haven't been working."

"you, not workin? that's fuckin nuts. i don't know someone who'd believe that shit. so, who the fuck is it?"

"who?"

"who made ya. i know you, boy. you must be lovin on some trick. is it that michal?"

"no. not really."

"ah shit, then is it dollface? cutey with the bug eyes?"

"nole?"

"yeah, broke up with heather."

"no."

"shit man, you gotta stop lyin. it's bad for ya skin."

15.

i don't feel clean without drugs. i feel dirty and cramped and alone and frustrated and angry. i yell at my sister more. i fight with michal more. i yell at nole for the first time in our friendship, and he gasps because i don't know.

i don't even fucking know.

16.

my first kiss was with michal. it was sort of awkward; eighth grade and we both had braces.

i think about the awkward now because he wants to hold my hand after i ask him to be my boyfriend, because just some guy and i are having a lover's spat; i can't touch when my mind is on someone with a dollface.

17.

it's pretty easy to bring michal to a party now that we're dating. i refuse a beer because he doesn't drink, and maybe this is good. this is really good. i snuggle into his side, smelling the red of his cheap sweater. it looks bad on him.

"michal, i love you."

and i mean it then.

18.

nole meets me at my house, which is weird. we've never been together without a party to start off in, which twists our dynamics into something entirely unique to my senses. i take the time to notice him; all sandy blonde hair and black eyes and tight pants and loose shirt. he steps inside, and we go up to my room to talk. and he talks. and i talk. and we talk. and it all ends in him saying,

"you know i'm straight, right? i mean, those were just...i mean, you're dating michal."

"yeah, i know," i kiss him, and maybe he just doesn't have the heart to say no.

19.

it's lead in the wound in the heart in the soul when i try to look at michal as he says, "i never said it back. i love you too."

20.

i took a customer today; with dark hair and dark eyes and pretty lips. he said his name was rami, and i let him have his way with me because i don't think i like this anymore.

maybe i should become a fucking nun.

21.

"you son of a bitch! you fucking son of a bitch! i can't believe you, i mean...i knew this was a bad idea! son of a bitch!"

"michal..."

"don't give me that look! get the fuck out! i don't want to see you! i don't!"

he's crying a little. his eyes look almost green when he cries, the red in the whites contrasting and making vibrant the hidden hue. i want to hug him. i pull him against me, and he punches my side, but i hold him. i hold him until he goes limp. i hold him until he freezes over. i hold him until he's no longer mine, and he knows i was never his.

22.

teeny tiny smiles when i give her the results of several nights work, but she says, she says with something like humanity, "baby, you look bad."

23.

nole's got a new chick. her name's nikki. i met her on pleasant terms, and she's pretty cute for a girl.

pretty goddamn cute.

24.

it's around midnight.

i don't know the exact time; i just know i got a suitcase full of shit and a train to catch. i know i'm in a station, and i know i'm sick of fucking california.

i can't be around these people anymore. i can't break these people anymore. i can't love these people anymore. i can't. i can't. i can't.

i bought a final stash from teeny tiny to make it all easier, and i kissed michal, and i told nole i loved him, and i hugged my sister. they don't know, but they'll know.

hopefully, they won't look because i don't want to be found.

i've really fucked myself over this time.

A.N. (This is the sort of not really companion to white. Which I suggest you read. This story takes place about...five years after that one.)