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“Your parents are nice, Liv,” Wendell said.
Your finger came off the red ‘end call’ button. Your heart was still thrashing in your throat. His glasses had slid to the end of his nose as he grinned. Watching him, your lips pressed shut until the smile started to slip. Then, you nodded. He grabbed your hand and kissed your cheek.
You were watching the sun setting behind the hills, the last red flashes of day burning over the lake. His hand was on your hand, soft, thin, his fingers curling over the tips of yours.
__
Kingskin, Liv, grabbed Vic’s, Wendell’s, hand and completely encased it in his fist.
__
“Liv, we didn’t say anything we didn’t mean.” Melissa was standing in the kitchen
“Obviously,” Terry was cutting up an apple.
You were sitting at the table.
“But it was– that was not nice to– we–”
“What your mom means is we care about what happens to you a lot. And, important decisions are nice to discuss as a family, before you make it a big public kerfuffle with all your friends,” he said.
“It was just on my mind when you walked in. Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay sweetpea,” Melissa patted your shoulder, and then brushed a long strand of hair out of your face. “A gap year is fine. But of course, your 529 still has plenty of money in it.”
“We did expect– you know– we did expect to support you while you were at school. If you’re planning to work full time, it might be time to start contributing to the house.”
You are sitting in a chair looking up at your mother and father, and you are very small.
___
Kingskin, not Liv, not Steven, was looking at himself in the mirror. He could taste the spittle of the Empresario’s jowls still on the corner of his mouth, and he wondered when he was turned into a bitch. No, he knew, he just thought he had grown out of it. He thought his ego had grown enough with his body since he was a younger man.
He dragged his nails along the side of his head where the hair was starting to regrow, and then along his chin and jawline. All stubble. He’d shave in the morning.
He went to his bed, and sprawled out. Luxurious, yards of sheets, and enough cushions to make himself an armchair to sit on. As he lay down, he couldn’t help but think there was too much room.
___
INTEGRITY: WHO ARE YOU WHEN NO ONE’S WATCHING?
The poster loomed over the lobby of the charity shop, as your donations hung in your arms. You’re cleaning out form-fitting long-sleeved t-shirts and blouses. You can’t think of a good reason why, other than your closet is too full, and you need to make room for your blazers.
There is still black nail polish in your nightstand that you have yet to use.
Your hair tickles the back of your neck.
—
“Where’s the damn food, Chuck?” came a voice as the front door opened.
“I thought you were making it tonight!”
“I’m not, I got called in to fucking work, I just got home!”
“I didn’t know, I was biking!”
“Now you do!”
“Look, you want me to fucking cook something?” Mr. Morris was already scrubbing his hands in the sink, trying to scrape off the dirt and oil.
Muddy shoes crowded the entryway, coats were thrown over every chair, nothing was really dirty but it was the home of several teenage boys and a teenage man who had a chronic inability to put things away. It felt very lived in. Wendell’s name was scratched into the wood of the bench you were sitting on.
There was a sigh from the doorway, and she stepped in, looking at the clock on the wall. “It’s too late for that.”
A pause. “Order pizza?”
“Great.”
Wendell looked off to the side with a nauseous tinge as his parents kissed over the unlit stove.
The woman turned and finally saw you as she dropped her bag onto the counter and hung up her keys. “Oh, you have a friend, Wendell brought a friend! Dell, introduce me, be a good host.”
“Hi, Mrs. Morris,” you say, waving. “I’m Liv.”
“Nice to meet you, Liv.” She took your hand and shook it. She had princely features, a brilliant red headscarf that looked like blood next to her skin, but still, you were somewhat surprised to realize Wendell took after his father.
She pulled the scarf down onto her shoulders and sat down next to you. “It’s still Ms. Davis, though.” She glanced at Charles, and he rolled his eyes slightly as he put the phone to his ear.
“Oh, I’m sorry for assum–”
“Most people do. I don’t mind.” She winked. “Just don’t do it again. Chuck hasn’t changed that much.”
“Celene!”
“What!” She turned around.
Mr. Morris pointed to the phone. “Pizza?”
Wendell mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ and grimaced slightly from where he was sitting.
“Cowboy and, Liv, what do you like?”
“Oh, uh, whatever you want. I’m good, I can eat at home.”
“Do you have allergies?”
“No?”
Charles yelled (it felt like yelling to you, this whole family felt like they were yelling, and you were flinching, but also not, because there wasn’t actually an argument, so you were actually starting to feel more comfortable than if they weren’t yelling?), “You’re in our damn house, so you’re gonna eat with us.”
“Uh, I, uh, just– pepperoni. Is good.”
“Cowboy and pepperoni,” Ms. Davis reported, and Mr. Morris began rattling it off on the phone, along with garlic knots and a large coke.
“Me and Liv are going to, uh, hang out in my room for a bit. And watch Youtube videos,” Wendell said.
“Okay, we’ll call you when it gets here.”
“Thanks, Mom.” She patted his arm as he stood up and grabbed your hand.
“Nice meeting you, Ms. Davis,” you said as you were pulled away.
“And you, Liv,” she nodded.
You walked up the stairs after Wendell, glancing back at the noise.
“Your parents are nice,” you said after a second.
Wendell’s hand rested on the door. “... Really?” he asked.
“They seemed nice.”
“I guess it's nicer when Mom’s around. They keep each other… busy. Dad’s like– he admits when he's wrong but it usually doesn't change much.” Wendell shut the door. “Sorry, that's personal.”
“No, I’m your friend. I’ll listen to– to whatever you've got going on.”
He smiled at you, that same awkward smile filled with metal and expectations. “Thanks, Liv. And you know, no family’s perfect. They're still family.”
A window overlooked the backyard. Below you, Wendell’s brothers were whooping as they sprayed each other with the hose and threw clods of mud at each other.
“Yeah. They're still family,” you said. “Even when you fuck up.”
“Uh, yeah, that's, I guess that's right.”
You stared at his brothers in swim trunks, their bare chests caked with dirt.
—
You steal a six-pack of store-brand boxers.
__
“Good boy.”
The body was crumpling to the floor. The blood was still warm on Kingskin’s hands as he stepped towards the Empresario, about to grab him. The two dogs growled on their chains, and he stayed back.
“Don't. Call me that,” Kingskin snarled. They had had a common enemy, someone who had stolen from Kingskin and personally slighted Empresario.
“Why not? Do I not take you on enough walks?” Empresario pulled out his gun and twirled it. “I thought you liked collars and leashes.”
“I can crush you too. I will, like anyone else.”
The man in the white suit grinned to show off his metal fangs. “I know. I know. Big strong man, but he still will bend over and under for anyone who will let him into their bed.”
The dogs were creeping forward, ears back, fur bristling down their spines.
“Because for all your reputation, you are desperate to be anything they want, Steven.”
Kingskin swung his fist, and a Doberman sunk its teeth into his eyes.
___
You are dreaming of a criminal world that gives you more power than you’ve ever known. Drunk on it, you stumble through the fog, where everything is mist under your fingers, easily formed and easily waved away.
Your body says, ‘Here I am, someone of grand purpose and intent. Anything I say carries the weight of my glory. Listen to me. Listen to me.’
Your mouth says nothing, but they listen.
—
“You should go to trade school, I think, the trades make so much money. You don’t even need a degree!” Your mother hands you a book on electrical engineering.
You know once she has an idea, she is going to keep bringing it up. It will always be your choice, of course, so why do you always end up doing what she wants?
You say nothing.
__
He dreams of a little girl. He is dreaming. You are dreaming. You lift his hand and flex it in front of you, the rings glittering on your fingers.
You are going to school, you walk into a club. You kiss Wendell, you kiss Vic, you kiss Simon, and Diana, and you’re dancing, in a dress, and a suit, and a suit, and a suit, and you look in the mirror and your eyes do not meet your own chest.
Because he is looking back at you. You are looking at a teenage girl.
“Did I ever really leave the tape?” Liv asks.
You smile sadly. “You did. You just brought a few too many things with you. Too many to go back to how it was before.”