Indigo: The Saving Bailey Trilogy #2 (32 page)

“She’s sick,” Thomas says hushing the baby girl.

Starkey’s eyes are tinted green, their stormy grey color like the building clouds before a twister touches down. “I’ve got a present for the both of you, but I’m not giving it until you promise to take it.”

“I promise I’ll take it,” Thomas says without hesitation.

I show him my hundred dollar bill, holding it like a cigarette in two fingers. His eyes enlarge and then shrink back in their sockets at the sight of it. “I want you to have it,
all of it.
”

“No, I can’t take it,” he refuses.

“But you promised.”

“It’s like taking money from a baby. Honey, it’s a nice gesture but I just can’t.”

“You’re right, taking money from babies is just wrong. So please, this is for Starkey, don’t take it away from her.” Quickly, I shove the bill into Starkey’s little palm. She stops fussing and brings it to her mouth to suck on.

“Where did you get it?” Thomas asks.

“My mom and dad gave it to me; they wanted me to go shopping or something. Anyway, I already have everything I need. Food, clothes, shoes, a roof over my head.”

“Some people think…” Thomas says, “I mean
most
people think that parents raise their children. But me, I think that children raise their parents.”

“I just do the opposite of whatever my mother does, it suits me,” I say.

“Well, you keep doing that, Bailey, because its working and you’ve woven yourself a heart of gold.”

I smile, Thomas smiles, and Starkey giggles, waving the hundred dollar bill in her hand, a green flag of victory. The three of us are as happy as peas in a pod, discussing the food Thomas will buy with the money, the toys and diapers he will get for Starkey. We play a game with Starkey, call it ‘pass the baby’, she laughs so hard I think her thin cheeks will be stuck that way forever.

In the midst of tickling Starkey, above the laughter and our happy noise, a frightening
ding!
Sends me to my feet. I run from the shed without saying goodbye, my boots slipping on the wet grass as Sarah comes out of Goodwill. She gathers rocks in her hands—decorative rocks peppered with holes—that look like they had once been a part of the Great Barrier Reef. I stop my climb for a second to catch my breath.

“Get the hell out of here, Sykes! Get off my property or I’ll have you arrested!” Sarah barks.

I carry on up the hill and run for my bike, keeping my eyes from wandering over to Sarah, who carries on screaming obscenities at me. Three quarters of the way to my bike, one of the rocks from Sarah’s hand blindsides me and hits my ear. The next one gets me just above my eyebrow. I throw myself on the bike and, with gravel spitting from the back tire, hurry down all the back roads, avoiding Spencer’s neighborhood.

I coax Indigo to come out of the cool, dark recess of my head where Bailey sent her. Tell her I need her ASAP, because Bailey will fall apart at any moment. Bailey, who is crying from the pain in her ear, and in her head, and in her heart. Weak-ass Bailey, in tears again, tears that can’t leave her eyes because of Harley and the wind. All the wind, so much of it in Bailey’s hair and clothes, yet she can’t breathe
.

Indigo likes the wind. She especially likes it when it stings her face. I like the wind now. Welcome the sting. Welcome Indigo. I’m going to the Allie. I want to find Ashten, because Bailey has reminded Indigo of something she learnt in high school—that Ashten can dye and cut hair like a celebrity stylist.

I need a makeover; I look too much like Bailey; a sniveling, whimpering, unattractive creature
.

My clothes are itchy with fine pieces of Bailey’s hair, but I’m satisfied with the Indigo locks that now match my eyes and name.

Ashten cut one side of my hair short and left the other side long; some of Bailey’s black hair peeks through patches of dark blue. A long tiny braid swings over my shoulder and moves with me every time I turn my head. I look different. I look
dangerous,
Cairen says. Not sweet and innocent, nothing like Bailey and every bit like Indigo.

“That’s
hot
,” says Holden.

“It’s whatever,” I say.

“Well, I think you look sexy,” says Don.

Ashten places three pink pills in my hand; they look like Smarties. She tells me they’re called Mollys. I shove them in my pocket and forget about them.

“You’re one of us, now,” Cairen says. “You’re really an Allie now. Indigo, you’re badass. Someone fucks with you and you’ll bury ‘em.”

“I’ll do worse,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. I get to my feet and tower above him because he is sitting down. “You mess with me,” I flip my braid forward, “and I’ll make you
wish
you were buried.”

“Prove it, Indigo.”

“Touch me again and I will,” I say. “Talk to my boyfriend again and I will cut your balls off and feed them to the Apocy cat.”

“He’s still your boyfriend?” Cairen asks surprised.

“No,” I say. “But he will be.”

“Show him Indigo and he won’t wanna’ leave,” Ashten says. “Pay him in bed, that’ll win him back!”

“I don’t need to do that,” I say, sounding too much like Bailey.

She’s starting to show through, like the clock has struck twelve and the magic of Indigo is fading. I’m pushing my luck being here; I don’t have a good enough grip on Bailey and if she comes on too quickly, I won’t be able to snub her out. So I long-leg it over the Allie fence, drop onto Harley, and take my two selves home.

When I come through the door, smells from the kitchen greet me. Smells of roasted chicken and vegetables. Mom is tossing a salad and Dad is leaning over her, kissing her neck. I clear my throat and slam the door. Dad’s lips leave Mom’s neck so quickly that she frowns in displeasure before seeing me.

“What did you do to your hair?” Dad asks, alarmed by my Indigo makeover.

“Do you like it?” I ask.

“If you do,” he says. “Come eat, Mom made dinner.”

Mom serves Dad and me before filling her own plate. We take tiny bites from our food, like we’re a family of mice.

“I have something to tell you, Bailey,” Mom says, pushing her salad away like she’s finished eating; she hasn’t even touched it.

“You’re pregnant?” I laugh. “Oh, wait, you already told us
that one
.”

“No,” Mom says gently. She forces a smile. “It’s not good news.”

“Is it about the baby?” I stop eating too.

“I got fired.”

“From Indigo?”

“Mhm.”

Dad smiles and covers Mom’s hand with his. “There’s more, go look in the bedroom,” he says.

I push my chair out and hurry into the room. There, pushing aside my pill bottles, are boxes and boxes toppled atop one another. Boxes of Mom’s things, of our pictures and her clothes. Indigo does backflips, tumbles of fury, in my head. I walk back into the kitchen and say, “You are
not
staying with us.”

“I lost the apartment, Bailey. I was fired days ago. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

I turn to Dad. “You knew?”

He smiles innocently and shrugs his shoulders. “Surprise!”

Bailey is confused. But, Indigo—oh, Indigo—is fuming like green mist off of a nuclear waste site. Indigo isn’t about to let Dad get off that easy.

“Surprise this!” I yell swiping my salad to the floor. “How dare you! How could you, Dad! You promised! You said you would take care of me. You made me a home, a safe nest, and then you invited the demon to lie with me. You don’t care about me. You don’t give a damn about me!”

“Bailey, young lady. You apologize right now and clean that up!” Mom reprimands.

“Sydney, just leave her alone,” Dad says.

“Leave me alone? Ha! Now she never will, you’ll see, Dad. You’ll see how well she leaves me alone
!
”

“This is how you treat your father and I?” Mom says. “We gave you all the money we had today and this is how you repay us? Where is it, what did you spend it on? That awful haircut, drugs?”

“Sydney, cut it out. She’s right, I should have asked her, first,” Dad says, his voice rising.

I whip myself around and dash into the bedroom. “Indigo, Indigo…” I say under my breath. “Come on out, Indigo! Where the
fuck
are you?”

I jerk forward, ripping into Mom’s boxes, and find the one with her undergarments in it. Mom and Dad are fighting with each other, and for the time being, at least their attention isn’t on me. I grab my mother’s lingerie—red and black, pink and white, lacy, frilly, stringy things. Silky bras and panties that she hasn’t worn since my father left. Stuffing her lingerie into my jacket, I silently hope that she was skinnier back then.

I kick off my boots and trade them for a pair of Mom’s bar-heels, and then swap my skirt for a pair of black skinny jeans. Underwear and bras scatter the room. They bury my pill bottles. I take up Harley’s keys and my fake license.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Mom asks, as I fling open the front door.

“What does it matter? I’ll be back by sun up.”

“You’re sixteen, you’re not going anywhere!”

“Bailey, please calm down. Let’s talk this out. It’ll be okay, everything is going to be okay,” Dad coaxes.

“Daddy, it’s too late to talk. She’s here and I’m leaving. You’re right, I’m going to make everything
okay
.”

“Honey—” he says.

I shut the door.

The night air is musky and thick like smoke from a joint. I wheel the bike away from Dad’s truck, wait for the engine to warm up, and then zip off into the night.

Bailey would have waited for things to mend themselves, but Indigo is a go-getter. She is—
I
am—going to fix this mess. Now. I didn’t just get my name for my eye color, I acquired it when Cairen molested me at the club. I took a part of it with me—a nasty part—but a part nonetheless. And now I will use that awful part to my advantage.
Indigo is the answer to my problems.

It’s a Friday night and the club pulses with music and jerking bodies. The bouncer at the door looks familiar; maybe he’s the same one who let me in before. But that was Bailey, not Indigo.

“I.D.,” the bouncer says, his eyes sidetracking to the left.

I show him Bailey’s fake I.D.

If I’m Indigo, pretending to be Bailey, who is pretending to be Sherry, does that then make the I.D. doubly fake? Is it doubly noticeable that I’m not Sherry?

“That’s not going to work this time, kid. You don’t look a day over fifteen.”

“Excuse me?” I say. “
Do you not know who I am?
” Indigo knows exactly who she is, how intimidating she can be. “I’m Indigo, an Allie and you’d better let me in or you’re gonna have to deal with my leader, Cobra Cai.”

“
The
Allie? You an Allie? But you’re so tiny!” The bouncer chuckles.

“I can get Cairen if you’d like…”

“No, no, it looks legit. Go right in,” he says, making way for me. “Tell Cairen I said hi.”

“Will do,” I say saluting him as I go into my warzone. The red dancing lights are lasers on a gun sight, the loud music—gunfire. Ella, swerving on the stage, is the enemy. I shoulder my way to the front. I wave a dollar at the edge of the stage like the men are doing to draw in the dancers. Ella grabs it and I don’t let go. “Hello there—
friend
.”

“Bailey, Oh my god, I didn’t recognize you. Your hair! Your clothes! You look so much older.” I put my palms flat on the stage and lift myself up. “What are you doing? You can’t be up here!”

“I’m here to work,” I say, pulling out Mom’s lingerie. “You owe me, Ella, you let Cairen drag me into that bathroom. You may have stopped him from raping me, but then you were gone. I didn’t get no follow up call, asking if I was all right.”

“Well, you don’t seem all right. You seem like a lunatic!” Ella says. “Bailey, you’re too young.
You can’t work here.
”

“It’s just for tonight,” I say. “Trust me, I’ll make plenty of tips.”

“What if the boss sees you? The other girls?”

“Then
I’ll
deal with them, don’t worry about it.” I take my jacket off and put it at my feet. “Here, hold my tank top,” I say to Ella, who is gaping at me in paralyzed shock.

“Bailey!”

“My name’s Indigo for the night, got it?” I hop around the stage struggling with my tight jeans. I stand in my bra and panties with Ella looking on horrified. “Is this okay? Can I wear this? I brought lingerie.”

“You-you look great,” Ella stutters. “But Bailey…. I mean,
Indigo
, you don’t even know how to strip dance.”

“Did Mom ever tell you I could have been Prima Ballerina of my dance studio? I’ve watched you Ella, all it takes is flexibility and core strength. I can work the pole.”

“Holy shit, you can’t. You’re only sixteen!”

“Look, I’ve done worse things,” I say. “Guys look at me all the time, might as well get paid for it, right?”

I strut over to the pole. All the other girls are wearing matching bras and heels. I would be taller than most of them even in bare feet; I
tower
in my heels.

My neon pink underwear stands out beneath the green flashing lights. My wild mane attracting attention like a Lamborghini driving through the ghetto.
Come on boys
, I think.
Indigo needs to get her mommy’s apartment back.

I leave the pole and go right up to the front of the stage. I straddle at the edge of the stage, come back onto my feet, spin and sashay to the pole. Eyes follow my behind, follow my slender legs as they wrap around the pole. I climb and hang upside down, slowly removing my hands, only my thighs and calves holding me; tricks I have seen Ella do. Oh, and I smile so damn widely that my jaw shakes from the pressure of my teeth gnashed together.

I return to where the men are all grouped together at one end of the stage and money lands at my feet like Frisbees at a dog park. Tens, twenties, a fifty tucked in my underwear. Bailey could never do this; Bailey would be a puddle at the back of the stage. Indigo is putty in their hands.

I’m still collecting my payment for
slutting
around the stage, when Ella comes up to me and yanks me backward by my shoulders. “Bailey, Indigo, whatever the fuck your name is, my boss is coming. Hurry, run, I don’t know—do
something
!”