The Bailee Dunsmuir Post - Issue #1 by Tori Lo and presented by Studio22 June 03, 2009

The beach heat made beads of sweat form on her forehead and dribble themselves down her face, down her long tendrils of brown mousy hair. Bailee walked from the red 1970 Ford Maverick that belonged to her older brother, Johnny, and over to her group of friends by the seawall. Between her small, young lips, she held a new cigarette, only just lit a few minutes before she exited the car.

“Pipe down, you assholes. Time go get crunchin’,” she said, the words contrasting to her appearance.

Bailee Dunsmuir’s childlike form made so many believe her to be no older than nine years. She is twelve-and-a-half years old with already the mind of an eighteen-year-old, borderline thirty-seven. She has the oh-so-common “tees and jeans” look going for her, and a single pair of Chucks that are about to break into a gazillion pieces on her feet. No socks, is how she goes, despite the blisters that appear where they belong. The sand from the often-ventured beach is no help to the pain from her sore blisters.

Bailee has mousy brown hair that cascades down her back, draping her shoulders, and reaching her mid-back.

“Hey, Bail. What‘s up?” the photographer, Maude Clayton, asked casually, leaning against the seawall and looking out into the oceans of people on the hot, smelly beach.

“Nothin’ much. Just wanna do an issue dedicated to still photography, that rifle incident at that shitty school, and child terrorism,” Bailee replied and hopped up on the seawall, then took a seat next to Maude.

“Right. How the hell are we going to go about doin’ child terrorism? There ain’t any nearby!” Ace Sinclair, ace journalist, complained. “I don’t wanna go out down to anywhere… demeaning now.” He took off his leather jacket, obviously overheating, and slung it on the seawall. This easy and casual move attracted attention to Ace’s tank top, which is commonly called a ‘wife beater.’ Johnny, Bailee’s brother and vice-editor, laughed at the girls that ogled at Ace’s biceps and visible abs though the shirt; they knew nothing about his toying and trashy ways.

“Of course not, you dumbfuck. Like Southern Cali is at all demeaning. In fact, I think it’s a perfect place for them children of terrorism. I’ma send Ace and Maude down to some town south. Dig up as much as you can, and come back as fast as possible.”

Tania Seedly, journalist and photographer, crossed her arms and puffed smoke from her cigarette. “And what? Not me? Aren’t I a photographer, too?”

Bailee snapped her head in Tania’s direction. “I don’t know why the fuck Johnny keeps you around. If it weren’t for him, you’d be long gone by now, slut. Anywho. I need you to investigate with Pauline on the rifle incident at that school… whatsitcalled? Thomas High?”

Pauline Hopkins, journalist, rolls her eyes and kicks sand at Bailee. “Fuck, Bail, you don’t even know what you’re investigating. Theodore High, dipshit. I’m not working with that cunt, Tania. Now go fuck yourself,” she snapped and stormed off.

“Hey, Pauline, you need to cool down! If that won’t work--” Bailee cut her brother off with a smack of her hand:

“Pauline, you sleazy, lazy cuntbag. You’re just as whorish as Tania here. Only difference that makes you better is that you fuck when you’re drunk and high. But believe me, one day, heroin’s gonna get you screwed in the fucking ass,” Bailee said sharply. Her slick tongue cut right into Pauline and her habits.

“I already have, stupid.”

Bailee put on her best, most fake and childish smile before she said, “I know,” which earned her a glare only a fuming teen girl could give.

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

“Okay, Pauline, enough dissing my sister. Time to shine and get to work,” Johnny said and took a few steps towards Pauline. As everyone dispersed, Mark Stokes, scoopman, opened his mouth to speak but Bailee swatted him in the stomach.

“Don’ even start talkin’, Mark, ‘cause I know what you’re goin’ to say: ‘why aren’t I given anything?’ …Right?” She gave a small pause, but as Mark began to talk Bailee talked over him: “Well, know what, Mark? You aren’ even an official member. You aren’ required to be at every meet. Just come when you’re called, and do as you’re told and no one gets hurt. Brother and I have some pretty tight connex, you know?”

Mark stares at Bailee with his usual blank expression until Bailee storms off grumpily. Mark stays at the beach until past sunset. Johnny and Ace pass by at around ten at night, coming home from a party.

Ace peeks up above the seawall to see Mark. “Hey, John, look. It’s Marky. What’s he still doin’ there?”

“I dunno. Foolin’ around wit some chick?”

“Fuck no, man. Mark? He’d never be seen wit just any girl. He’s goin’ for one special one. You know who, dontcha? The very lady of the house!”

Johnny gave a confused eye to Ace. “I’m not gettin’ what you be puttin’ down, Ace.”

“Your sis! Fuck! The very Bailee Dunsmuir! Everyone can tell she‘s goin’ to be a hottie when she gets older, right?”

“You’re kiddin’ me, man. My sister? You’ve taken me on a lot of wild rides, Ace, but don’t even think of taking me down incest avenue.” Ace laughed.

“At least you’re not pissed about the fact your sis is going to be fucked by the time she’s thirteen.”

“Of course I’m pissed, but there’s nothin’ I can do about it. Bail’s got a mind and body of her own; no one’s going to tell her what to do with it.”

“You got that right, man. What do ya say about givin’ her virginity to me, bud?” Johnny punched Ace in the arm playfully.

“You’re askin’ me? I thought Mark over there had the hots for her. Why don’t you go ask him?”

With his inflated ego and now smug smile, he laughed. “Yeah, right! Why’d I ask him? He’s not makin’ any moves. Why should I care?”

“I dunno. I’ve heard from some ol’ pals that Mark there’s got some secret stuff. Why’d you think he got kicked out of his old school? Copying? Fuckin’ graffiti?”

“No way. I’d always thought it was flippin’ the bird at the man up top or somethin’ like that. …seems like somethin’ he’d do anyway, doesn’ it?”

“You’re right. Oh, hey, he’s comin’ this way, Ace. Cool it. Hey, Marks! How’s it goin’?”

“Down, man. I’m bummed ‘cause Bail didn’ give me any work. Am I just not cuttin’ it for her?”

“Hey, hey, hey, Marky, don’ get down jus’ ‘cause of that! I’m sure you’ll get somethin’ another time. But, say, what do ya think about Bail?” Mark looked up at Ace from the ground.

“Wha’ do ya mean? She’s coo’? What else can I say?”

Ace laughed and rested a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “No, no, Marks. My sis, is she hot?”

“Fuck, no, man! What is she, twelve? I’m not into that kind of sick shit. You crazy?” Johnny let out a light laugh, now assured, but Ace kept laughing.

“You’re in denial, bud, you know that?” Ace said after he calmed. Angry, Mark spat at Ace’s feet.

“Fuck you, Ace. Ya prick,” he said and then stormed off.

“Oh, ho, ho! Someone’s pissed!” Ace said loudly, sounding laid back and very casual. “Hey, John, I still think he’s got the hots for your sis. Keep an eye out for whenever he comes by, eh?”

Now angry, Johnny glared at Ace. “Sure thing, Ace. See ya,” he said and walked off, leaving Ace by himself at the beach.