Chain Reaction 2.83: Darren

     Pain.
     So tired.
     Pain.
     Exhaustion.
     Keep breathing.
     Oh, but the pain!
     Sleep.
     Deep sleep. The big sleep.
     No more pain.
     Rest.

     .
     .
     .
     -
     -
     _

     Noooooooo.....
     Pain.
     Leave me be!
     No! That hurts!
     Dizzy.
     Out.
     Rest.

      "Hello, again. It's time to get a little nourishment in you," she says. "Can you hear me?"
      Moan. Leave me be.
      "I'm not going to listen to any of your complaining."
      Rolled over. Pulled up. Soup.
      Cold. Shaking hurts.
      Warm. Soft.
      Mom?

Logan McKinney

     What? Where am I? I sit up. Ow! F---! What the f---! 

     Being more careful this time, I prop myself up on my elbow. There's something... something I'm supposed to remember. My chest hurts like the very devil. 

     Where the hell am I? How did I get here? Very carefully, I swing my legs over the side of the cot. Then, I hear a stirring behind the corner of the small alcove where the cot sits.

     "You're awake!" some woman says.

     Sh*t. Where the f--- am I? Who the f--- is she? Flashes of the movie 'Misery' go through my mind. Who is this crazy b*tch? 

     She sees me staring at her in an untrusting way. I'm f--ked. I doubt I can defend myself if I have to.

     F---! I was shot! I look at the woman again, and hazy memories of someone taking care of me hit me. Hm. So the b*tch apparently saved my life. What does she want? I gingerly scoot down the cot--closer to the door, I notice.

     My voice sounds like someone scraped razor blades down my throat. "Where am I?"

     "My apartment. Do you remember anything?"

     Sh*t, I think. I DO remember things. That as*hole shot me. Dad got arrested. I kidnaped my niece? "Not really," I lie.

     She exhales out her nose. Does she know I'm lying? "I found you. At first, I thought you were dead. I thought about dialing 911, but looking around where you were, I guessed you wouldn't want to be caught if you survived. If you didn't, then you apparently deserved to die."

     Nice. I laugh quietly, even if it hurts. "Looking around?" Damn, she has an enormous rack.

     "Knives in your boots. A vial of a powerful sedative in the corner. A coil of rope, too. Whatever you were up to, things went real south real fast. Who the hell are you?"

     I laugh again. I like her. She's spunky. "Well, if I'm a mass murderer, shouldn't you be worried?"

     She actually has the gall to roll her eyes! "Please. If anything, you're a two-bit thief--and not a very good one at that. But that looked like kidnapping. It wouldn't be the first time that space has been used nefariously."

     "Then why not just call the cops?"

     She sighs and walks in front of me. "I hate the cops. And whoever it was got away." She has a seat next to me...not blocking my path to the exit anymore.

     "Who's to say that I'm not going to hurt you?" I ask her. "I mean, since I'm a criminal and all?"

     She laughs. "I'm not stupid. You're incredibly weak. That's why you're not running out of here right now."

     I grin. Yeah, spunk. She's guessed I'm not on the 'right' side of the law, and she's not visibly afraid.

     She looks at me. "So do you have a name?"

     "Darren," I lie again, choosing that name for her daring.

     "Well, 'Darren,' how are you feeling, other than the obvious?"

     I'm feeling like I don't trust you.

     'Logan, she DID save your life.'

     Yeah, but why?

     My stomach growls. "Uh, hungry."

     "I'll fix something a little more hearty than what you've been eating...if you think you can take it."

     Frankly, I'm exhausted just from sitting up like this. "Sure."

     She walks into a kitchen area, and that pillow at the top of the cot looks very inviting.

     The next thing I know, a delicious smell wakes me up. For a moment, I think I'm back home and Mom has cooked breakfast. I always loved breakfast at home. I wanted the meal to last as long as possible because the second it ended, Dad would hassle me to 'get things done' for him.

     But then I open my eyes and see that I'm in that woman's apartment, and it all comes back.

     Looking over, I see her put a platter of, yep, bacon and eggs on the counter. I don't want to appear weak again, so I get up and lumber towards her.

     Well, maybe looking weak might mean that she'll feed me while my head rests on her breast.

     Who is she anyway? 

     "I'm sorry it took longer than expected. I had to run to the store," she tells me.

     "Uh, I didn't notice."

     She smirks. "Yes. I saw you'd gone back to sleep."

     We eat, and I start feeling a bit better. I learn her name is Addy.

     I look around. "So, uh, how long have you lived here, Addy?" All the furniture is makeshift. Even the boombox behind me has several scrapes and scuffs on it. I'm surprised it even works.

     "Not too long. I used to live with a few roommates, but we, ah, decided to part ways." She turns to look at me. "Look, I know it's crap. But I have a plan."

     Ah. She's stashing her money away somewhere. She lives here in order to save more. "What do you do for a living?"

     "I'm an entertainer."

     I can't hide my surprise. "You mean like an exotic dancer?" I also can't hide my grin.

     She gives me a look like she'd love to shove the rest of her food into my face. "I play the guitar," she replies with clenched teeth.

     "Oh." I only now spot the guitar sitting next to the little couch. Seeing her still giving me that look, I say, "It was like a compliment. Geez."

     She shovels down her food like she's worried someone will steal it, washes her plate, and puts the leftovers in the fridge, another thing that I can't believe still works. "Fine, fine. A compliment," she says, rubbing her temples. Then, she goes and has a seat on the cot. Once seated, she gives me a look.

     Oh. I get it. 'Get to work, Logan.' Or... Darren. If what she wants as payment for helping me is to go for a ride on my joystick, that's something I can definitely do. ...Provided she doesn't expect anything too strenuous on my part.

     "Well," I sit down, "even if you haven't lived here that long, I'll bet it still must get pretty lonely." There. Great opening for her.

     She watches me, and I can't figure out her expression. Why do women have to be so damn complicated?

     "I guess," she replies.

     Okay... so she doesn't want a direct approach. "So... what do you do for fun?" This feels like a first date. I've gotta do better than this.

     "Fun? I play my guitar most of the time, outside, to make money. Then I sleep. Sometimes, I visit friends...but not lately."

     "And let's not forget save strange men from the brink of death." I give her my most charming smile and inch toward her.

     My fingertips touch her elbow. "I never properly thanked you for saving my life."

     She closes her eyes. Is she nervous? "Well, I did what I could and left the rest up to fate. Obviously, you must be meant for something because you're alive."

     My hand travels up the back of her arm to her shoulder as I say, "And I've never been so happy to be alive." I start to wonder what it would be like to have those breasts in my hands...in my face.

     "What are you doing?"

     Dammit, woman! She's going to make me come out and say it. "I know a very nice way to thank you, to celebrate being alive." My hand rests on her far shoulder as I scoot right next to her. I massage the top of her back as I lean in and say quietly, "You don't need to be shy. I'm more than happy to thank you properly."

     "What the hell, Darren!" she yells and shoves me back.

     "Whoa!"

     "What do you take me for? You honestly thought I'd want to woohoo you?"

     "Well, uh..." This has backfired.

     "Let me get one thing perfectly clear: I am not some pincushion that men can stick whenever they feel like it! You think that because I'm poor that I'll just take it wherever I can get it?"

     "I thought that's what you wanted!" She was giving me 'the look' a minute ago!

     "What in the Maker's name made you think that?!"

     Sh*t! This has NOT gone the way I thought it would go. "Look, you came over here and sat on the bed and gave me a look like you wanted me over here to... to..." She might literally claw my face off if I finish that sentence.

     "I was going to find out how you're feeling, but obviously, you're feeling just fine if you're thinking you can woohoo."

     "Well, I was kinda thinking I could lean back against the wall and you could be on top."

     Whack!

     She slaps me across the face, making my head turn. I reach up to touch my cheek as she gets up and snarls, "I'm going out to see if I can make any money. Feel free to leave!" She grabs her guitar and walks out, slamming the door behind her.

     Sh*t! I just HAD to open my mouth that last time, didn't I? Why do I DO that? I already KNEW she was mad and I had to go and say that sh*t.

     With a wince from the pain, I lean back against the wall. Woohoo might've been painful even with her on top, but I would've hopefully been distracted enough. At any rate, I was willing... and ready. Yeah. That doesn't help matters.

     'Feel free to leave'? Does that mean she wants me to leave? She didn't exactly say 'leave'; she just said 'feel free to.' In other words, she's put the ball in my court. 

     I moan as I lay my head back on the pillow. What's a man gotta do to get some painkillers?

     Nature's painkiller takes me as I fall mercifully asleep.

     The closing door wakes me with a start, and I sit up too fast, which just makes me clutch my chest and groan.

     "So you're still here," she says, nonplussed.

     I hold up my hand as I try to stand. "Wait. Addy. Look, I'm sorry. I totally misread everything." I wince and sit back down on the bed.

     She sighs and walks over to put her guitar on its stand. "Whatever. Are you hungry?"

     After eating leftovers warmed in the oven, I tell her to sit down on the little sofa. "Here. Let me make it up to you. I can play the guitar too."

     "Darren, don't hurt yourself."

     "I'm fine for a little bit." I hum a little as I reorient myself with the instrument. It's been a while. Who knows what's happened to my old guitar. We had to pack up and leave Newcrest in a hurry, and we were always on the road doing odd jobs. "Here we go," I finally say, and I start up a song I remember. It's about a woman who doesn't know her own worth and how she works hard in a world that also doesn't appreciate her.

     When I open my eyes, I see she's almost in tears. I immediately stop playing. "What's wrong?"

     "Just go to sleep, Darren." She stands up and walks over to the counter before pulling out a blanket from beneath it. I stand dumbfounded as she starts looking like she's ready to go to sleep as well.

     "No. You go sleep in your bed. I'll be fine on the sofa." I grab the blanket.

     She snatches it back out of my hand, and I wince again. How did THAT motion hurt my chest?

     "No. YOU go sleep in the bed. You're still not fully healed."

     Holding my chest, I nod, knowing she's right.

     After she turns out the lights, I hear her voice in the dark. "Thank you for the song, Darren. It was beautiful."

     "You're welcome." I smile and drift to sleep.

     A few days later, I'm feeling much better. Going through her bathroom cabinet, I find some hydrogen peroxide. I decide to surprise Addy.

      When she sees me, she does something I've never heard her do: giggle. "What have you done to yourself?"

      "Blond. And I cut it. Don't worry; I cleaned up my mess. And I'll pay you back for the hydrogen peroxide." I smile. "I thought... Well, I thought I could help with the money situation... somehow. But I have to look different if I'm going back into the world." What I was up to before she found me is a taboo subject with us. She doesn't want to know, and I don't want to tell her. "Look, Addy. I have to find a way to pay you back for everything you've done for me."

     She looks thoughtful. Then, she bites her lip for a second before she says, "You know... I think you could take it a step further."

     Before I can ask her what she means, she walks over to a laundry basket she keeps in the corner. Then, she pulls out a shirt and pair of pants I've never seen before. Standing up, she walks over to me and hands them to me. "I, uh, acquired these from a... friend. I think they'll fit you, help with your new look."

     After changing into the clothes, which fit me perfectly, I walk out of the bathroom and smile at her. "Well? How do I look?"

     "Good," she replies.

     My smile grows. Okay... now she looks like she wants to jump my bones.

     To my delight, she dashes across the room and does exactly that. Really? The clothes? THAT'S what it took to make this woman want to woohoo me? I decide not to question it anymore and just enjoy the ride.

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