Page 7 of Fracture

“You don’t even know me.”

“Yes I do.”

Suddenly she’s pushed off the wall and headed down the hall. “Get some sleep, Dylan. Even if it’s on the floor.”

A door closes softly in the dark house, and I’m left alone with nothing but my memories, and a scratch mark down my bicep.

That night, I dream of a party, long ago, when Stella was young and sweet, and I was a teenage boy with a crush. Whenshe’d touched my hand under the table, her pinky curling around mine as she smiled at me, and it had felt like coming home. When she’d let me pull her down the side of the house and push her against the wall, and I’d kissed those full lips for the first time. When I’d whispered, “You’re mine, aren’t you?” against her mouth, and she’d nodded.

I’m yours, papi. I’m yours.

The salon is busy when I push through the door, my arrival heralded by the ringing of a bell above me.

“Can I help you?” The young woman at the counter eyes me with a crooked smirk, brushing her copper red hair over her shoulder and tilting her hips.

I spot Zee working on a client in the corner, and gesture to them vaguely. “I’m actually here to see Zee.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, and with a quick nod she looks over her shoulder. “Oh well, they’re busy right now.” Her gaze turns back to me, and that suggestive smile is back. “Since you don’t look like you need a haircut, maybe I can get you a coffee while you wait?”

I shove my hands into my pockets, giving her a polite nod. “That’d be great, thanks.”

“How do you like it?” She lifts an eyebrow as she says it, her gaze wandering up and down my body in a brief flicker that has me suppressing a cringe.

“Just black.”

She purses her lips, her eyes widening. “I read somewhere that only psychopaths take their coffee that way.” She leans on the counter, squeezing her tits together in her low-cut black shirt.

I roll my shoulders and look her square in the eye. “Well I did just get out of prison for murder, so…”

Her eyes bug out, her body instantly straightening and her hands curling protectively against her chest. “Are you joking?”

Zee’s light laughter sounds across the salon, and they approach me with raised hands. “Homo!” They call affectionately, and the girl at the counter looks like she wants to melt into a grease spot on the floor.

“Hey, Freak.” I can’t help but smile as Zee wraps their long arms around me and hugs me tight. “Nice place you got here.”

“Oh, you’re too kind.” Zee draws back from me, looking me up and down, shaking their head. “I see prison gave you around 100 pounds of muscle and 200 of ink.” They run a finger along the snake tattoo that encircles my neck. “But this work is gorgeous. Was it done with a plastic spoon and a biro?”

I laugh out loud. “Hate to disappoint you, but it was just a plain old tattoo gun.”

Zee’s eyebrows quirk almost comically. “Since when do they let you have those in prison?”

“Since I went into San Verenas where Yolanda Crosby’s son is incarcerated and she wants to make sure we’re all very comfortable.”

Zee rolls their eyes. “Oh god, I forgot about the governor’s son.” Zee looks over their shoulder at the redhead who’s still regarding us with a look of wild confusion. “Amy, honey, my friend is taking me out for lunch.”

“OK, no problems, I got everything under control.” She eyes me apologetically. “I hope I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t realize you were gay.”

“He’s not!” Zee waves breezily, pushing me out the door and onto the busy main street of Bellford Heights. They link their arm through mine and click their tongue. “Amy’s sweet, but simple.”

I chuckle, falling into step with Zee’s energetic strides as they drag me down the street. “Poor kid looked like her heart stopped when you called me Homo.”

Zee tosses their purple dreadlocks over their shoulder and smiles up at me, their smiley piercing glinting in the sun. “Her parents are good bible folk, and you’re probably the first bisexual man that’s ever crossed her path.” They lean their head against my shoulder. “Freak and Homo, together again.” Suddenly, they shove me away and stop in front of a florist, glowering at me. “Wait a second, I forgot. I’m mad at you.”

I run a hand over my head, my eyes dropping to the pavement. “I was wondering why you were being so nice to me. I was ready for you to tear my ear off.”

“Stella told me you expected to get laid the second you got out, you animal.” They tap their foot against the ground. “And something about blaming her for going to prison?”

The well-dressed people passing us by look a little shocked by Zee’s outburst, taking in their colorful clothing and even more colorful hair with a sneer. Zee’s head snaps around to them, their face bursting instantly into a bright smile.

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