Faery Worlds - Six Complete Novels (25 page)

Tony and I looked at each other. Man, I wished I could speak telepathically with him because I really didn't want Mr. Helpful hearing what I wanted to say.

Tony didn't worry so much about that stuff, apparently. "I don't know, Jayne. We don't even know this guy."

"Oh yeah, sorry about that. Name's Jared ... Jared Bloodworth." Mr. Helpful held out his hand to Tony, putting the no-longer-lit cigarette butt in his front pocket with the other. "You've got nothing to worry about. I'll show you where I stay and you can decide if you want to stay there too or not; it's up to you. Sometimes there's food, too."

Tony took his offered hand, shaking it firmly. I continued to watch Mr. Helpful ... Jared ... trying to figure out if he had any ulterior motives hidden behind his dark brown eyes. I kinda suck at that though, so I gave up, shrugging my shoulders. Tony had his gun, and this guy didn't look too dangerous. He had kind of a freaky name, but that wasn't his fault. He was skinny and not much bigger than me, with brown hair swept around in a casual rocker kind of style. I was thinking I could take him if I had a little adrenaline rush going for me, which I probably would if he were trying to kill me. He looked like he could use a shower, but he didn't exactly appear homeless. His clothes were in decent shape. I still couldn't figure out the cigarette thing, though. Why did he put that disgusting filter in his pocket? I guess it was better than dropping it on the ground. Maybe he was a save-the-environment freak.

Jared strolled ahead of us, not seeming to care whether we followed or not. We walked a few blocks away from the train station, down some streets and alleys, into a commercial warehouse area. It was pretty rundown, some of the businesses having closed a long time ago. Our destination was in the back of a warren of single-story warehouses covered in graffiti.

Jared stopped in front of a beige metal door with a heavy-duty lock on it - the kind that has a thick metal plate over the latch area so no one can pick the lock or crowbar the door open. He banged on the door with his fist. "Open up, it's me, Jared."

Tony and I looked at each other. He put his hand in his bag, making me suddenly very nervous. The last thing I wanted to see was that gun coming out and Tony playing Rambo again.

We heard the lock click open. The door opened a crack while whoever was inside verified it was Jared standing there. The door opened a little bit more and then stopped. "Who the hell are
they?"
The female voice coming from within didn't sound very happy.

"Don't worry about it," said Jared, pushing on the door, opening it the rest of the way, the girl stepping back to make room. "After you," he said, gesturing to the gloomy dark interior.

Even though it was dark inside, the girl at the entrance was easy enough to see, illuminated by the light of the late afternoon Miami sun - bright and hot as hell. She was tall and skinny, a little dirty, hair almost scrappy-looking. None of this, though, could obscure her beautiful face.

Tony was awestruck. I elbowed him in the stomach so he would close his mouth, afraid he was going to drool on me. Tony's reticence about entering the dark warehouse disintegrated in the face of this Aphrodite standing in front of him. He stepped forward, entering the building and disappearing into the blackness within.

Jared stood looking at me expectantly. "What are you afraid of?"

Pfft
. "Nothing," I said. False bravado is my friend. I stepped into the darkness behind Tony, hoping I wasn't about to become a teen runaway statistic.

Chapter Four

Once inside, our eyes adjusted quickly and we could see that Jared and Angry Girl weren't the only ones here. Three other teenagers were sitting on a couch and some chairs set up in the middle of the small warehouse. In the center of this not so cozy space was a banged up coffee table with a group of mismatched burning candles on top.

"Hey, Jared, what's up?" asked one of the kids sitting on the couch. He had a slight southern accent that I identified as coming from central or north Florida - a little rednecky in flavor. I immediately named him Tom Sawyer in my mind because he looked exactly like I always pictured that character - with straw colored hair and freckles, and a devilish look permanently stuck on his face. I could picture him sitting on a dock, fishing in one of central Florida's many gator-ridden lakes.

"Nothin'. Found some lost souls at the station. Meet ... " he gestured to us so we would introduce ourselves.

"Tony. Nice to meet you all."

"Jayne," I said. I wasn't sure yet if it was nice to meet them so I kept it short. Angry Girl was still making me feel a little unwelcome with the cold stare she was giving me. I gave her my hard look, hoping she scared easily. I've been told my hard look is not much scarier than a chipmunk's, but I do what I can.

Angry Girl shut the door behind us.

Tony stepped over closer to me, and I was glad for his nearness. I didn't feel threatened, but this wasn't my usual scene. The living rooms I was accustomed to had lights, electricity, and a house around them. I surveyed the room's vast openness and complete lack of decoration, thinking this would probably be a great place for a rave. I'd never been to one, but I'd seen them in the movies.

Jared asked the group sitting in the chairs, "Where's Spike?"

"He went out to play for a while, scare up some grub," answered Tom Sawyer.

"Spike's our resident musician. He plays over on Fifty-Fourth Avenue and usually makes enough money to buy a pizza and some coke," explained Jared. "Go ahead and have a seat, make yourselves at home." Jared turned his back on us to have a whispered conversation with Angry Girl.

Tony and I walked over and sat down on the couch next to each other and Tom Sawyer. Tony looked nervous, but probably no more than I did.

"So, Tony and Jayne, where are you guys from?" asked a small black-haired girl sitting in one of the chairs.

"West Palm," I said, not sure how much detail she wanted but unwilling to give more.

"Cool, I'm from Tampa. My name's Becky by the way. And that's Finn on the couch next to you from Apopka, Chase there is from Maryland, and Samantha at the door – she's from Miami. Nice to meet you guys."

"Finn?" I got a big grin on my face. I couldn't help it.

"What's so funny?" asked Finn.

"Oh nothing, just ... nothing. Nice to meet you, Finn."
Huckleberry Finn, that is.
I had almost gotten it right.

Finn looked at me suspiciously, probably not believing I wasn't somehow mocking him, since I still couldn't get the goofy grin off my face.

The Chase guy just sat there, not saying anything. He didn't look mad - actually he seemed pretty zen. He was sitting down, so I couldn't see all of him, but even so, it was easy to see he was a big guy with broad shoulders and thick legs. His hair was blonde and cut in a military style. He looked like he'd just dropped out of boot camp or something.

Becky seemed pretty nice. I was feeling less nervous being around her. She was super little, so I was pretty sure I could bring her down if need be. She sat cross-legged in the chair, practically bouncing every time she talked. She was one of those types that was always enthusiastic and for no apparent reason. Normally those kind of people bugged me, but she seemed okay.

It got really quiet, so we could hear Angry Girl, otherwise known as Samantha, arguing with Jared. I couldn't really hear what she was saying, but my guess was, she wasn't happy about us being there.

Tony elbowed me in the ribs. I looked at him and he was gesturing not too covertly towards the far wall, off to our right. There were some flattened cardboard boxes, a couple of mattresses, and what looked like some grungy sleeping bags, all set out in neat little rows.

"That's where we sleep," explained Finn, no expression on his face.

Yikes.
I wondered if we were going to be invited to sleep there. I was trying to figure out a polite way to turn them down when Samantha and Jared came over.

"Hi. I'm Samantha."

Obviously she'd been forced to play nice. Jared was standing casually off to the side. The pecking order was now becoming clear. Jared, Samantha, maybe Chase, Finn, Becky.
Done
. I wondered how long they had been here and what their stories were.

Tony pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. "Hi, Samantha, nice to meet you."

Tony was always so polite. He was my better half, if it were possible to have a non-romantically involved other half.

"So ... ," I stopped, unable to think of what to say next. I wasn't good with awkward silences.

Someone banged on the door, saving me from my sorry attempt at conversation. Samantha walked over and opened it, admitting a skinny guy with jet black, spiked hair and an acoustic guitar, also black. He walked in sideways, the last thing coming in being his right hand holding up a pizza like a delivery boy.

"Soup's on!" he said cheerfully.

Everyone smiled and offered him their congratulations. Apparently it's a big deal to come back from the streets carrying a pizza.

He brought the food and his guitar over to the sitting area, putting the food down on the table, saying, "Dig in; there's a piece for everyone, even the new guys." He smiled at Tony and me, holding out his now free hand. "I'm Spike. Welcome to our humble home."

Tony and I took turns shaking it. "Jayne and Tony," I said.
Man
, did Spike sure have a cute smile. And cool teeth, if it was possible to have cool teeth. They weren't movie star straight, but for some reason I dug them instantly. They suited his look perfectly - kinda messed up, friendly, sharp on the corners. As I was thinking it, I doubted my own sanity. I saw Tony staring at his smile too, though, so I made a mental note to ask him later what he thought of Spike's teeth . Tony wouldn't think I was crazy, I was pretty sure.

Everyone took a piece of pizza and ate in silence. Spike pulled a two-liter bottle of soda out of his backpack, and everyone but Tony and me took turns swigging directly out of the bottle.

"Worried about cooties?" asked Becky, giggling and then burping the cutest burp ever.
What is it with tiny girls and their tiny burps?
When I burp, I sound like a trucker.

I shrugged. I wasn't going to lie; and I also wasn't going to drink after six pretty scrappy-looking runaways.

I was assuming they were runaways since they looked the part and seemed to be living together here in this warehouse. I could see that they were some sort of cohesive group - maybe not a family in the traditional sense of the word, but they ate together, slept together, and apparently had some sort of agreement between them that Jared was the boss and Spike kept them fed. At least, he provided the pizza and soda, which are two of the four main food groups in my world. I wondered how long they'd been together and how long they'd been living here in this warehouse.

Tony searched around in his bag and pulled out a bottle of water. We shared it, trying not to be too obvious about our cootie aversion. "Trying to cut back on the sugar," I offered as explanation. I'm not sure that they fell for it, but at least they acknowledged my effort to take the sting out of our rejection.

I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable; not because of the company we were keeping but because I had to go to the bathroom pretty badly. We'd been in the warehouse a couple of hours by this time, and so far all I'd been able to see from where I was sitting was the living room, front door, and sleeping area ... no bathroom. Luckily, Tony has a weaker bladder than I do.

"Um, guys, is there a bathroom we could use around here anywhere?" he asked.

"I'll take 'em," said Becky cheerfully. She jumped up off her chair. "Follow me. It's not far."

We grabbed our bags, following her out the door and down the nearby alley.

"So, did you guys just get here from West Palm?" she asked.

"Yeah," said Tony, "just before we came here to your place."

"You gonna stay a while or are you headed somewhere else?"

I elbowed Tony, signaling him not to give our secrets away, even though we really didn't have any secrets.

"Not sure. We don't really have a plan. We were going to find a spot to sleep near the beach or something."

"You don't want to do that," said Becky, a warning note in her voice. "It's not safe. There are some pretty mean guys who go there looking for homeless people - several kids have been beat up pretty bad lately." She turned and walked backwards. "You can stay with us. We've been here a few weeks now. It's not much, but it's dry and safe ... none of those guys know we're here."

"Do you know them – the ones who beat people up?" asked Tony.

"Not
know them
know them, but we're pretty sure we know who they are; gangster types that deal drugs and have prostitutes down there. Some of the beaches aren't too nice at night." She shrugged her shoulders and then turned back around. "Here we are."

We were standing in front of a blue and white port-a-potty.