S-Duality: A Marauders Novella (2 page)

He didn't want to find out later that she wasn't legal. That would totally suck. She didn't look sixteen, but she didn't look all that much older, either.

“Nineteen,” she said and took his hand. “You?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Twenty-one and such an impressive beard!”

“Yeah.” He unlocked the door and opened it. He still had a hard time wrapping his head around this actually happening, but there was nothing in the house she could steal—his stash and money were locked away. The only thing she might get was the couple of hundred in his pocket, but he suspected she might be worth it. “Wanna tell me your name?”

“Not yet.” She pulled off her t-shirt, and her nipples were even better than he'd expected. “Where's your room?”

He lifted her up, and she latched her legs around him. “I think I'm in love,” he mumbled and gave her a kiss.

With one hand holding her ass, her sucking on his tongue, and his other hand slowly stroking her side up towards her cocky nipples, he carried her up the stairs to his room.

-
o0o-

Sisco'd always liked music, especially the music from the late sixties and early seventies—albums he'd found in his dead grandpa's long forgotten album collection. He'd wanted to go to a concert, but a lot of touring bands skipped Seattle and the Washington area back then.

He and Pete had decided to go t
o a festival called Bumbershoot because a band called U-Men was playing. The festival was a family thing, but they figured it was better than nothing, and Pete had seen U-Men earlier. He'd talked about the female bass player and how cool she was. Like some punk rock Marilyn Monroe with huge boobs, and had explained in detail to Sisco how she'd knocked guys in the head with the neck of the bass if they got too close.

At first, Sisco was kind of disappointed that the punk-Marilyn wasn't there, she'd apparently quit the band, but he still thought it was really fucking good. Then it happened, during what was to be the band's last song, and he'd never fucking forget it.

The singer came running from behind one of the amps holding a damn torch, which Sisco thought was kind of cool, but it got even better. In front of the stage was a water-filled moat, and he dipped his burning torch into it. They must've prepped it somehow because the entire pond exploded, and a fucking wall of fire went up in front of the stage. It looked like the entire stage caught fire.

He and Pete just stared, and then started to jump around to the music while laughing, and they weren't the only ones. It was like he for the first time really felt like they weren't living in a dead town. Shit could
fucking happen in Seattle, too. Cool shit.

A lot of musicians he
’d met over the coming years had been to that gig. If
he
had to pinpoint when the entire music thing took off in Seattle, he'd say it was then. Others said it was a Black Flag gig the year before, and they probably had a point, too. That's when they learned that heavy didn't necessarily have to mean fast.

He'd gotten involved in the music scene after that. Never as a musician, he'd quickly realized he was much too talentless, but still involved.
Mainly because of Pete. He was an amazing talent, and he always wanted Sisco around for gigs or just rehearsals.

Since the mid-eighties
, there had been one huge scene of musicians in Seattle working together, creating their own world, influencing and supporting each other. It had been great, and since he soon had a lot of friends who were musicians, Sisco pitched in where he could. Usually as something like a roadie. He turned out to have a talent for fixing things, whether it was repairing an old shit amplifier or getting some joints for the guys. His size and looks also made him handy in case some promoter tried to rip them off.

The hair bands and the commercial music scene
didn't mean shit to him. He didn't get it. It was all fake macho with a ridiculous, decadent, overblown attitude. To him, it felt like jocks pretending to be rock stars with silly fucking songs about wanting girls to be their desert—probably so they could use their make up. It was all about surface, about looking the right way.

The Seattle bands weren't about that. It wasn't as technically perfect as the thrash or speed metal bands—some of which he actually liked—but it was more punk rock leaning towards the British heavy metal of the late seventies and early eighties. The bands in Seattle were about simplicity and rawness—like an open fucking wound. It was honesty, and it was heavy
in its own way.

No one thought it would ever turn into something real, something that would be noticed by anyone but
their friends. It was just a bunch of guys playing for themselves, and it didn't matter what they did, since they wouldn't become commercial success or sell anything anyway. So they just did what they felt like. Even the records they released were just for themselves and their friends. If they managed to sell a thousand copies it was considered fucking awesome.

When Pete said they were going to try out squats in Europe, Sisco tagged along. He didn't have anything else to do, and it sounded like a good way to get away from Seattle for a while.

They took anything they could find, and squats were a pretty big thing, especially in Germany, but it was quite possible to tour through most of Europe. He had no idea how the venues got away with it, but none of the gigs had been raided by cops, and some of the places, like in Berlin, had been right smack in the middle of the city.

They'd been there for almost two years. Not touring the entire time. Sometimes they stayed in a city for a few months and helped at the local squat venue. In some ways, it was a long road trip through Europe.

After two years of eating punk stew—pasta with tomato sauce and some vegetables if you were lucky—Sisco concluded he'd rather eat lukewarm poo, and that he missed the US. The rest of them felt the same way, so they went home.

They found Seattle pretty much as they'd left it. Sisco was soon a part of it all again, and he spent most nights at one venue or another, helping bands set up. That was another part of a scene
where everybody worked together. It wasn't gigs as much as just a party among friends at a venue with one of the groups on stage. Pretty much any day of the week, he could find at least one gig to go to, listen to some guys he knew playing some really nice stuff, and then have a beer with them and any other friends who were there once the gig was over. He soon got a reputation of being able to supply good pot and started selling it on a bigger scale. Which was how he’d ended up at the feminist party.

-o0o-

Miss Cocky Nipples had turned out to be one of the best fucks he'd had in a long time. She was fun, wasn't scared of laughing while they fucked, and she wasn't shy at all. Sometimes it felt like a girl was spending her time trying to look good rather than enjoy the fuck, but she wasn't anything like that. She’d made demands, and he much preferred a girl who told him what she wanted, rather than one who later told him he didn't understand shit. He wasn't a fucking mind reader. He needed to be told what a chick liked, because even if playing with the clit was a pretty safe bet, they didn't all like the same things.

She was lying next to him on her stomach, resting her head on his chest. He lit a joint, and she turned her head to look at him.

“Gertrude,” she mumbled and took the joint from him.

“What?”

“That's my name. Gertrude.”

He looked at her. “Baby, you're not a Gertrude.”

She got up on her elbows with a smile. “Then what am I?”

He took a
long, good look at the beautiful, crazy chick. “Trudy. You're a Trudy.”

“With an ie or a y?”

“Trudy with a y, like The Charlie Daniels Band song,” he said and took the joint back.

“I've never heard it. Sing it to me.”

He laughed. “Okay... uh...”

He tried to recall the lyrics and was surprised when he actually remembered most of it, but it had been one of his grandma's favorite songs, so he'd heard it quite a few times. By skipping the lines he couldn't remember, he got th
rough most of it. She laughed about the peroxide blonde at a bar followed by the line
I was flying high and feeling mean
, and applauded him when he was done.

“You can call me Trudy,” she giggled and leaned down to give him a kiss. “I like it.”

“Is this where you wait for me to fall asleep and then take off with all my possessions?”

“No.” She looked around. “Besides, you hardly own anything, but if you don't mind I'll fall asleep next to you.”

“I'm fine with that.” He turned to the side and put his arm over her. She smiled and they kissed. A long kiss. “Gotta say, Trudy, you're the craziest and sexiest chick I've ever met.”

“I think that's a good start.”

“To what?”

“To you thinking I'm the most amazing chick, ever.”

“Are you gonna go crazy stalker on me, baby?”

“No,” she said and threw her leg over him. “I'm going to lure you in with sex and sweet words.”

“Lure me into what?”

“Staying with me forever,” she giggled.

“That's a little scary considering I've known you for, like, three hours.”

“I know.” She nuzzled closer. “You'll get used to me. I'm an acquired taste.”

“Just so I know, how often do you do this? Drag guys home and tell them shit like this.”

“Want the truth?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I drag guys home on a regular basis, but I don't tell them shit like this.”

“Okay.” He kissed the top of her head

Definitely crazy.
It was very possible she'd stab him in his sleep, but he still liked her.

When he woke up the morning after, she was gone. He wasn't surprised but still a little disappointed. She'd been great.

With a groan, he sat up. Resting his elbows on his knees, he rubbed his eyes. He wondered if he'd be able to find her, but the only t
hing he knew was her first name. It didn't seem likely it would be enough.

He headed to the bathroom and was stunned when he opened the door. Trudy was in the bathtub, and she gave him a big smile when she saw him.

“Hey! Hope you don't mind. I love baths, and I don't have a tub in my apartment.”

“No,
” he said, and then had to clear is throat to be able to continue. “I don't mind.”

“Since you're already naked, you should join me.”

“I...” He pointed towards the toilet. “I need to pee.”

“I won't look. Pee and get into the bath with me.”

The water splashed over the edges as he got in. Trudy turned around, got between his legs, and leaned her back against his chest. Once again he was trying to decide between two extremes when it came to her: if he was just lucky as fuck, or if he'd just caught his very first crazy stalker.

“What's your opinion on monogamy?” she asked.

“Jesus fucking christ, you keep shocking the shit outta me, girl!”

“Just... I'm not very partial to it.”

“Honey, I don't even know your last name. I'm not gonna try to control who you're fucking or not.”

“Stein. My last name is Stein.”

“You're shitting me?”

“No. My name is Gertrude Stein. My parents are sadists.”

“Obviously.”

“What's your real name?”

“Lance Evans.” His eyes landed on her nipples just barely breaking the surface of the water. “I'm still not gonna try to control who you're fucking.”

“That wasn't why I asked. More...” She shook her head. “Never mind, forget it.”

He couldn't resist and ran his hands over her breasts to tweak her nipples. “I wouldn't mind if you fucked
me
again.”

“Mmmm
... I'm up for that.” She turned around, dripping wet and caught his mouth in a breathtaking kiss.

CHAPTER TWO:

-
o0o-

Present day, Greenville, Arizona

SISCO WAS LYING IN
front of Violet. She was the daughter of the club's VP, Bear, and a brilliant tattoo artist. He had quite a few tattoos done by her, some of them really early and not so brilliant, but he'd done it for her sake. She'd needed the practice, and he didn't care much what his tattoos looked like. It had been a way to support her, too. She'd always been the shy girl, and when Bear told them his sixteen-year-old girl was becoming a tattoo artist, most of the members had helped out by letting her practice on them. Now, she was twenty-one and not only pregnant, but the old lady of one of Sisco's club brothers. Her old man was Mac, the club president Brick's son, so they were two club kids who'd hooked up.