Vicious Circles (3 page)

Chapter 3

June
2009
As much as I wanted to track Jill down and beat her ass, I resisted. I had something like an epiphany, realizing that staying clear of her was more beneficial to my well being. Although, I was sleeping in a shelter at night, I was sleeping without a dark, drama cloud floating above.
I knew, through word of mouth that Mason had returned toward the end of May and to be honest I hadn’t thought of him since the last time I saw him. He’d tossed some money and an address on the couch like I was some sort of whore. Fuck him. I spent too many damn days thinking I was a cold hearted bitch when really, he treated me like shit right back. As far as I was concerned, we were even. With that said, nothing, and I do mean
nothing,
good would come of me going to see his band play in West Hollywood, however; I had plans to go. So, maybe I was a masochist or maybe I had trouble admitting to myself that he was intriguing. The little voice in my head was screaming ‘what if’ and there was no way I could back down.
After I’d left the shelter that morning I spent my day wandering around the city. I usually wandered with no real direction until one of Jill’s friends drove by and picked my ass up. Someone would feed me and give me a ride; that’s how my life went every day. The day I speak of though, went differently. I walked along Santa Monica Blvd, which I just never did, until the display in one of the shop windows caught my eye. I wasn’t a huge art buff, obviously, but the main painting on display caught my attention. It was a young girl, younger than me I assumed. She was crying but her tears were blood. It was almost as if she were bleeding from the eyes. I’d never bled from my eyes but I could appreciate the meaning of it all.
Through that window, I also caught my own reflection. It made me want to switch places with the girl in the painting. My dirty blonde hair was tangled; someone had stolen my brush. I’d been wearing whatever I could find at the local church and trust me…the olive green board shorts and white tank top was not holding up well.
“I know you.”
I turned to the familiar voice, shocked to see Mason Jennings standing behind me.
Jesus Christ, I can’t be this unlucky.
“Are you stalking me or something?” I shot back.
“I remember now…Fallyn, Jill’s ex-friend.” He looked mighty fucking pleased with himself until his eyes began to look me over.
“What are you staring at you creeper?” My arms crossed automatically.
“Um…how are you? I can see you got back okay.” It was too late. I noticed the realization on his face. “Am I interrupting something?” He asked, pointing toward the window.
“Oh, this?” I directed my thumb toward the bleeder. “No I was just checking things out, you know. I’m on my way to meet someone actually…so I should.” I edged away, trying to get away before he started asking questions.
“I’ll give you a ride. My car’s at a meter up one block.” He narrowed his eyes, probably judging me silently.
He could join the masses for all I fucking cared. As far as I knew he was one of the faces that passed by and looked at me with shitty, horrified looks. “I don’t need a ride, I’m fine.”
“Look, I’m just trying to help…”
Why am I so bitchy to this guy?
I started walking away backwards. “You want to do something for me? I’ll be at your show tonight…buy me a drink.”
“I can do that,” Mason called, smiling.
I broke out in a run after that. The further I got from that window and Mason, the better I would feel. He just wouldn’t give it up. It was bad enough I had developed word vomit and asked him to buy me a drink. He had the nerve to smile at me. What was his issue anyway? There was always girls willing to get busy with him and he was trying to help
me
for some unknown reason. Maybe he really was an okay guy, but that was harder to swallow than expected.
A gas station bathroom served as my vanity that night. I’d jammed the door with a mop from the cleaning closet and changed my clothes quickly. I stared in the mirror, looking at my unrecognizable face through the streaks. At one point in time I was going somewhere, I had direction. My eyes weren’t quite so dull and lifeless. My cheeks weren’t quite so sunken. The girl before me in that dirty ass mirror was a stranger and there was no way anyone would give her a chance.
“Enough of that shit,” I told my reflection sharply, splashing water from the faucet onto my face. The pipes clanked and groaned in protest while I applied what little makeup I owned to cover what I was, to transform myself into what I wanted to be. I would step out of the bathroom a different person.
Hollywood was buzzing as usual when I exited out onto the sidewalk. I walked about a block, taking my very first left, ending up at Hollywood and Vine. The place was the equivalent of the bubonic plague for me but there I was, trying to blend in with everyone else.
I moved in the direction of Santa Monica Boulevard where I’d had my Mason encounter earlier in the day. For the first time since I’d moved to LA, my eyes stayed along the ground and I began to admire the stars placed in the sidewalk. It wasn’t until I stumbled on the star bearing the name
Lawrence Jennings,
that I actually stopped. Maybe I was so bitter and jaded because I was jealous. It was clear that I was miserable and my day wasn’t done unless I made everyone else around me miserable.
I began to walk again, afraid of getting to the club late.
Mason was a different story though. My view of him was tarnished, what with all the man whore behavior…that was his own fault. Then he tries to buddy up to me after I blasted his and Jill’s business all over that dive bar in Philly; the man is clearly a masochist.
Why do I keep thinking about Mason? I’ve lost my mind.
The bitch inside really wanted Jill to be sitting at the bar when I finally reached the small club in West Hollywood. Instead, the bar was almost empty. The bouncer, who I’ve seen a million times but never bothered to ask his name, grinned at me after putting a bright pink band around my wrist.
“Where’s your sidekick, honey?”
“Maybe she fell off the end of the earth. One can only hope,” I said with a slight sneer.
Nameless bouncer guy continued to talk to me while checking ids and banding wrists. “I would hate to be her.”
“You’re a smart guy,” I offered him with a hint of a smile.
I caught sight of Mason’s gang in the back corner of the club. Sucking up my unnecessary pride, I walked over slowly. He noticed me approaching and excused himself from the crowd.
“So you were telling the truth.” He threw me a sideways grin that I didn’t return.
“Do I look like a liar to you?”
He seemed uncomfortable but answered anyway. “I…well, no. It’s just, you left in a hurry this afternoon. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“Yeah,” I rolled my eyes. “Look, I’m sorry about that. I’m not the best person to be friends with, I have…issues.”
Mason didn’t flinch. Instead he ran a hand through his hair and grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the bar.
“What are you
doing
?” I demanded.
“I’m buying you a drink, just like you asked.” He signaled the bartender and then turned back to me. “As far as your
issues
go, you’ll be surprised to know I have my own fair share of them as well.”
I wasn’t really sure how to respond to that shit. I mean really, was he trying to be friends with me? “Why are you so fucking annoying?”
He laughed, clearly amused. “Why are you here if you think I’m so fucking annoying?”
“I don’t know!” I pouted, clearly frustrated.
As much as I tried not to, I was beginning to like Mason. He wasn’t so horrible and I couldn’t be too judgmental considering my big fat list of shitty choices. That’s where my real trouble began. If I actually opened myself up to this guy, he would want to know all about me and telling someone that you’re homeless and a giant failure tends to turn people away. I was getting too far ahead of myself.
“Let’s go,” Mason grabbed my arm again and pulled me through the back and out the metal door at the rear of the club. He pulled two cigarettes from his jacket pocket and lit both, before handing me one. “Now, let’s start over.”
Why the hell not?
“I’m Fallyn Michaels, nice to meet you.” I stuck my right hand out and waited.
“Mason Jennings,” he grabbed my hand and shook it. “That wasn’t so bad was it?”
“No, I guess not.” I looked out toward the street, smoking the cigarette he’d given me.
We continued on in easy silence and I was glad. Any moment he would ask more questions about me and I had no idea how to answer any of them. I didn’t know if I wanted to answer any of them.
“Are you from California?” Mason asked, turning toward me.
I should be a mind reader.
“No. I’m from Florida.”
“Conversations usually aren’t this difficult for me,” he laughed.
“I’m sorry okay? There’s just a lot of shit going on in my life right now and I don’t know why I’m telling you that but I am. Things are just screwed up and I don’t want to involve anyone else.”
Mason stared me down with those damn green eyes that didn’t have any effect on me until that moment. It was a genuine, worried look; something I hadn’t seen directed at me in a long time.
“We all need a little help or a push in the right direction every now and then.”
“You helped me already, Mason.” I sighed and began to stub the toe of my shoe against the pavement.
“The only one setting limits on my help here…is you, Fallyn. I’m not offering any sort of unfair judgment, just help.”
I had no idea what he had found out about me on his own. For all I knew, he’d bribed Jill for information. It sure sounded as if he knew more than he was letting on. “Why do you want to help me so fucking much? Truthfully.”
Mason pushed off from the back wall of the building and paced around in the alley a bit. “Truthfully, I can’t give you an exact reason. That’s irrelevant in the end because I’m going to anyway.” He stopped his pacing directly in front of me. “I hope you enjoy the show tonight. I’ve got some shit to do after but you should meet me tomorrow, in front of the same place I saw you earlier today.”
My shoulders slumped in defeat. “What time?”
“Noon, we’ll grab some lunch.” He squeezed my chin between his thumb and index finger before yanking the back door open and disappearing inside.
Oddly enough I did enjoy the show that night. I let my guard down a little and danced with the bouncer, who was named Tony. I asked his name and even smiled at him once or twice. It wasn’t the fact that Mason was going to try and help; it was more that he wanted to know more about me and I would actually have someone to talk to.

* * *

The next day I met Mason in the same spot he’d asked me to. My backpack was slung over my shoulder, holding everything I owned. Usually I would get lucky and stash it at someone’s place or leave it in a locker at the shelter. Unfortunately, all the lockers and beds were taken when I’d gotten to the shelter the night before.
Part of me hoped lunch would be somewhere with a drive thru and so many people, no one would notice me. I was wrong.
“I look like shit, I can’t go in there,” I said pointing at the café in front of me. There were far too many fake breasts and little purse sized dogs on the patio for my liking.
“Fuck them,” Mason said, pulling me up to the podium. “We’re paying customers, don’t worry about it.”
The hostess gave me a shitty look but I glared at her extra hard for good measure as she showed us our table. Mason actually waited for me to sit before sitting himself. I didn’t think men did that anymore. Had he tried to order for me, I would have punched him in the nose.
“Did you have a good time last night?” he asked, taking a sip of the ice water sitting before us on the table.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this but, I had the best time I’ve had in a while. It’s shocking.”
Mason looked away from me to the backpack propped up against my feet. “Fallyn, we need to talk. You can roll your eyes but I’m going to tell you anyway.”
Jesus, he acted like he knew me or something. I reconsidered my trigger for punching him in the nose.
He continued in my silence. “I know you don’t have anywhere to go.”
My eyes doubled in size, I could feel them. I didn’t think he would mention my apparent homelessness. “What else do you think you know about me, huh?” I spat, earning a few glances from people around us.
“I’m not offering you money or anything like that,” he said, hesitantly pulling a small black item from his pocket. “I wanted to give you this.”
I watched in embarrassment and shock as the shiny, offensive looking phone came toward me.
“I…um…wow.” I don’t think I’d ever been speechless before.
Mason noticed I was uncomfortable. “It’s just a prepaid phone. That’s all. I just think it’s safer…what I mean to say is, you’ll be safer with a phone.”
“You and I,” I waved my hand back and forth between us, “don’t know each other well enough for you to be giving me a cell phone. I can’t take this.” I shoved the phone back.
“It doesn’t matter how well we know each other. What I do know is that LA is full of assholes and you never know. Just take the phone.”
The cell phone was tossed back in my direction and I caught it easily. “Why do I feel like a damn animal who’s just been tagged?”
Mason laughed loudly, louder than I’d heard him laugh ever. When his outburst subsided he grinned at me. “Sometimes, even the wildest animals are caught and tamed.”
What the fuck does he mean by that?