Fear Itself

The only problem with my plan was that once I got into West London, I realized that I had no idea where Avery lived and also had no idea where to start looking for him. I couldn’t go to the fight clubs. Word was sure to have spread of the girl who whooped the local champion’s ass in fifteen seconds flat. That was the only place anyone ever mentioned him frequenting, and that was simply out of the question. I stood on a empty, dimly lit street in the middle of night, cold, without a coat, and ultimately, very, very lost.

Most of the street was dark or very dim. Only one building on the block seemed to be alive. Yellow light poured through the foggy, dirty window panes, and there was cheering and boisterous, jolly sounds coming from behind the door. I shouldn’t go in, I thought. Every other time I entered an unknown building, things had ended badly, but I didn’t know if it could honestly get much worse than standing alone on a dark, West London street in the cold in December. I looked around. I was alone. I was probably safe. It was the presence of people that I needed to worry about… but goodness, was it ever cold.

My eyes fell back upon the building, and I sighed. Just a few minutes would be okay. I looked around again one last time. Sure now that nobody was following, I hurried to the door. I could see breath like smoke against the cold air, and I was thankful for the radiating warmth when I entered. People here looked relatively happy. Not many were alone, and if they were, they took haven on a stool around the bar. Most others were gathered around booths, laughing, conversing. This may have been the most human I had ever seen West Londoners behaving. I stepped in, clearing the doorway and taking a look around.

It was bright in here, very crowded. It still smelled like sweat and booze, and it was nerve-wracking to stay in one spot. I thought for sure I was going to get jostled around or robbed, so I did my best to shuffle through, avoiding contact and just keeping my head down until I heard a whistle beside me as I passed a booth. “Blondie, what’s up?”

I turned my head sharply to my friend, an excited grin gracing my features. “Muscles!” I exclaimed with a laugh. “And how could I forget the famous Chandler Jacques?” I joked, laughing. Chandler just sighed and laughed a little, lips slightly pursed and sour-looking. Right back to usual.

“Good evening, darling,” he greeted me with a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips no matter how hard he tried to fight it off. “Seems we keep running into each other out here. Take a seat, have a drink if you like.”

“No, I’m good,” I politely decline, taking a seat on the empty end of their booth. “Just stopping in to warm up. Dreadfully cold out.”

“We know,” Dean commented. “So Blondie, I’ve wanted to ask you,” he began, then pausing to sigh and a drop a fist on the tabletop. “Please, please tell me you were only humoring Eyebrows and his weird book fetish. I told him that the idea was ridiculous and stupid and that you would probably laugh at him. Now, I know you’re really um… what’s the word I’m looking for?” He looked to Chandler as though he was going to finish the sentence. Chandler only gave him an apathetic shrug before sipping from the glass in front of him. “Oh,” he added, with a look of epiphany. “You’re polite. Tell me you were just trying not to hurt his feelings because you are far too good-looking to be as weird as he is.”

“I wasn’t kidding,” I told Dean, grinning. Dean groaned and shook his head. I thought he might smack it down on the table, he just looked so disappointed.

“Blondie!” he whined. “No! You can’t… no, we good-looking people have to stick together, and the first rule of being this ridiculously good-looking is that you don’t read!”

“He’s right,” Chandler added, looking at me through the lenses of his sunglasses, nodding. “I haven’t read more than five words since I was twelve unless it’s the lyrics to the Dreamgirls soundtrack, butt exercise instructions, an old Banana Republic catalogue, the written amount on my paycheck, or a hot guy’s online-dating profile.”

“And look at how successful he is,” Dean affirmed, nodding and patting his friend on the back. “But if you actually like reading, then you don’t talk about it, okay? That display you had earlier was so disgusting I puked in Sam’s trashcan.” He paused. “Not really, but I almost did.”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic,” I chuckled softly.

“And I think you’re making a huge mistake,” Dean retorted with a scoff. “You can do much better than Eyebrows.”

“Okay, Dean,” I laughed. “First of all, Alex and I aren’t even involved or anything like that. We just like books, okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean laughed incredulously. “Sure, Blondie. Whatever you say.”

“Who is Alex?” Chandler asked Dean quietly, leaned over toward Dean’s ear.

“Oh, he’s just this guy I went to school with who has this really tragic set of brows,” Dean explained.

Chandler uttered a small gasp, and a sympathetic look crossing his features. “What a shame. Genetics, thou art a heartless bitch.”

“You went to school with Alex?” I chimed in again. “I was under the impression you had only known him for a short while.”

“That’s half-true,” Dean explained, nodding. “We weren’t mates until a few months ago. We went to school together. Little fucker sat right behind me too because of alphabetical seating.”

I laughed. “I take it you didn’t get along, then.”

“No, we didn’t. He was one of those kids who ate, breathed, and shit school, Blondie. Education was his kingdom. You could tell Eyebrows knew he was smarter than everyone else, and he showed that shit off every chance he got. Raised his hand for every single question, and he wasn’t ever wrong. Except for this one time. See, I was always smarter than he gave me credit for, just not nearly as pompous about my endowment, and I always knew the answers to those questions, just never raised my hand. So, I was pretty amused that he was incorrect. I took that opportunity to jump in, and if you could have seen the look on his face when I answered correctly. I turned around, and he was staring at me so violently I thought his head might blow up right there. Sometimes, I wish it did. Guy can be a real dick when he wants to,” Dean chuckled.

“Yes, yes, he can,” I agreed, nodding.

“Smart though, I’ll give him that much,” Dean added. “I think he’s just too smart for people. Probably just used to having to deal with idiots because he’s not so bad once he knows you… if you’re smart anyway. I think that’s why he likes you.” Dean paused. “Not that he’ll ever admit that, but he won’t stop asking if anybody else thinks your hair smells like cinnamon.”

“Oooh,” Chandler mused with delight, leaning and grabbing a fistful of my hair to smell it. “Wow, it really does. What are you using? I wish my hair smelled like that.”

“Anyway,” Dean interrupted, giving Chandler a strange look until Chandler let go of my hair and continued acting like a normal human being. “I think that you can do a lot better than an incredibly smart, tragically impoverished, and dreadfully thick-browed cashier. That’s what I’m getting at, Blondie.”

“And what I’m getting at,” I told him. “Is that I don’t see that kind of thing happening with Alex. He’s merely a friend, and I just happen to have a lot of respect for his intelligence, and I really enjoy having somebody to discuss literature with. I’ve never had that before.”

“Bet you’ve never had sex before either,” Chandler teased. “Let me tell you, sweetie. You might think he’s letting you borrow his books, but next you thing you know, he’ll think you want to borrow his dick. It’s… it’s just one of life’s great unsolved mysteries.”

“Actually, it’s hormones,” Dean muttered until Chandler slapped him in the shoulder. He turned his head to face Chandler, eyebrows furrowed. “Do you want to start this?” he asked seriously. “I will hang you upside down in public.” That made Chandler shut up real quickly.

“Don’t mean to interrupt this lovely moment, but I was hoping one of you might know where Mumbles is,” I interjected, folding my hands on the table.

“Mumbles?” Chandler asked, quite confused.

Dean jumped in and explained, “You know the scary one who always looks like a cat that just walked through a rainstorm.”

“Oh!” Chandler exclaimed. “He was absolutely fabulous. I like him.”

“Yeah, I’ve got something real important to tell him, and I was hoping one of you would know,” I told them, nodding.

Both of them looked each other, humming. Dean grimaced and sighed. “Um, ‘fraid not, Blondie. I don’t really see him all that often. Avery’s not really known for being easy to find.”

I frowned a little, ready to give up on my search when another voice cut into the conversation. “I seen him,” the man said. He was tall, dirty, oily… missing a few teeth. “Just a few minutes ago, he passed by.”

“Really?” I exclaimed, paying no attention to Chandler’s obvious disgust and the wary look on Dean’s face.

“Sure, Dolly. I could show you where he went if you like,” he offered, flashing me a toothless smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t let nothin’ happen to ya. Just follow me.”

“That’s so nice of you,” I giggled, grinning as I got up from the booth. “Bye, Dean. Bye, Chandler,” I chirped as this very kind albeit odorous man escorted me out the door. Once we hit the cold night air, I shivered. My teeth began to chatter, and I remembered how cozy that bar had just felt. “So, which way?” I asked, looking up at him.

“This way, I believe,” he told me, heading off to the left. “But I think we should get you a coat first, love. You do seem cold, and you can’t be wanderin’ ‘round these streets shiverin’ like that.”

“No, thanks,” I replied, smiling. “I’d really just like to see my friend if you don’t mind.”

“Darlin’, you’d better find new company if you’re hangin’ ‘round the likes of him,” the man laughed, joked. I didn’t understand why that was funny. Avery may have been angry with me, but that didn’t mean we weren’t friends anymore. “I could be your friend, you know.” Okay, now I was getting a bad feeling about this guy. “Let me buy you a coat, sweetheart.”

Frowning a little, I shook my head. “Really, I’m fine, but thank you, sir. I’m actually thinking that maybe I should head back to my friends. What I needed to tell him wasn’t really all that important—“

He didn’t like that very much.

It took one swift shove to knock me back against the wall. My head knocked against the brick, and it stung a little. My heart stopped for a moment, and the man got real close to me, almost nose to nose. His hands were locked like vices around my wrists, holding me up against that building so tight I was sure he had no intention of letting me go. “Now, you listen here, you little bitch,” he hissed. “You ain’t gettin’ away so easy. Girl like you’d be good for my business, and I ain’t in no position to pass up that kinda cash. So I’ll cut you a deal. You come and work for me for a little while, and I’ll let you live.”

My chest shook with every quiet breath I drew, and all I could do was avert my gaze. I looked down at my feet, anything not to look into those horrible dark eyes of his. “What kind of work?” I asked meekly, barely louder than a whisper. I hoped that talking would delay him, give me some time to think.

He laughed in my face. I could feel little drops of spit on my skin, and I clenched my eyes shut. “You really are cute, aintcha, Dolly?” he jested, sneering all the while. “I think I may have just hit the jackpot.”

“And I think it’s time for you to leave, mate.” A voice echoed from the darkness of a nearby alley. The sound of boots against concrete padded toward us until I saw just a vague flash of Avery’s face in the dim glow of a streetlight. I didn’t dare say a word. I didn’t know what to do, honestly, but the man was caught off-guard by Avery’s presence. As was I.

“Bugger off,” my attacker spat. “She’s mine, ya hear?”

“Wrong answer,” Avery grumbled, taking a few steps forward and slamming his fist into the man’s face. He downright collapsed right in front of me, and I squeaked in fear at the sight.

“Mumbles—“ I tried to address him, but Avery had already turned.

“Princess, go home,” he told me over his shoulder, cold and almost uncaring. Just like my father. “You know the way. Don’t pull that ‘I’m lost’ shit on me. We both know you ain’t that dumb.”

“But Mumbles, I… I’m cold, and I’m alone, and I’m—“

“Scared?” he laughed. “Shouldn’t be wanderin’ out here, anyway, Princess. You know that.”

“Mumbles,” I begged, hoping he would listen. “Mumbles, I’m sorry!”

He stopped dead in his tracks, finally turned to look at me, and exhaled. I could see his breath in the air. “Sorry don’t fix everythin’, Princess.” He turned around and walked away. He left me there… alone, scared, and cold. After a moment of watching him vanish in the shadows, I rushed back to the bar, begging Dean to take me home. He did. Asked if he’d see me tomorrow. Told him yes.

I had almost completely forgotten about the riots… but the riots were something I would never forget.