Dark Angel

I move back to my hometown after 10 years to get a fresh start, and I'm running late for the night class I signed up for...lovely. I don't even know what possessed me to take it in the first place, college was never my gig. I'm a fucking mechanic, but after my marriage imploded, due in large part to my lack of understanding human social interactions (according to my ex-wife) I briefly entertained the possibility and signed up for this psychology course.

Dashing down the hall, I finally find the room. Shit, they've already started, great first impression.

I slip in as quietly as possible and take the only open seat left, in the back row between a skinny geek and a girl in a hoodie, at least I think it's female, as baggy as the sweatshirt is, I'm not really sure. Fishing my notebook and pen from my backpack, I start taking notes, something that seems completely alien. I haven't been in a classroom since graduating high school over 12 years ago.

As I listen to the Prof, frantically scribbling anything potentially relevant, I become aware of the girl in the hoodie muttering to herself. Turning my attention, she's cursing a blue streak, in Russian no less. Why, you may ask, do I know Russian? Well this damn brain of mine may not know how to relate to people, but the fucking thing has a knack for languages. With the help of the internet, I've taught myself German and Italian, which comes in real handy as I'm a master mechanic at a local exotic car dealership. Being able to read the tech manuals, untranslated, is not only an impressive party trick, it makes my job a whole lot easier. I'm currently working on Russian, I'm no where near fluent, but I understood most of what she was saying.

In Russian "Fuck! Fucking pen won't write! Goddamned piece of shit! It's the only one I have...SHIT!!" She launches the pen towards the trashcan in the corner of the room, causing the Prof to pause briefly at the sound.

I reach into my backpack and pull out a pen and hand it to her.

Surprised, she pulls back her hood, revealing fairly short, lavender hair, then turns to look at me, her eyes are deep purple, obviously contacts, but, Damn! Taking the pen she says. "Thanks."

"Pozhaluysta." I reply, smiling.

She immediately blushes deep red. "You...uh...speak Russian?"

"Da." I answer. "Not well, but I get by."

"Could this day get any worse?" She sighs, returning to her notes.

The lecture finally ends and I start to leave. "Hold up." She calls after me.

I turn to face her as she closes the distance between us.

"I need to give this back." She says, waving my pen around.

"Nah, keep it." I say. "I've got plenty."

"Well, can I at least buy you a cup of coffee?" She asks. "You did me a solid."

"I'd like that." I smiled. "I'm Eric, by the way." "Nice to meet you."

"Reyna... I'm Reyna." She sputters.

We take a short walk to the coffee shop on campus, place our orders and sit down. "Spasibo." I say, raising my cup.

"OK." She says. "I'm curious, why do you know Russian?"

"It's a hobby of mine." I answer. "What's your story?" "I don't remember seeing any lavender haired, purple eyed beauties in any of those cold war spy movies."

"Russian parents." She answers, cheeks reddening slightly. "I was born here, well in Pittsburgh, actually, not long after they got here." "They taught me the 'mother tongue', heritage and all that shit." "Don't take this the wrong way, but you seem a little old to be a freshman." She said. "Just sayin'."

"You'd be right, by about 10 years." I nodded. "Trying to get myself out of a rut." I spent the next few minutes recapping my rather miserable excuse for a life, hoping she wouldn't run screaming at the horror.

"Sorry." I apologized. "TMI, I'm sure." "I have been known to run off at the mouth."

"No worries, glad I'm not the only geriatric in here." She smiled. "A sympathetic ear is tough to pass up, besides, my life hasn't exactly been a picnic." "But that's a story for another day, gotta run."

"Catch you next week." I said as she left.

The class only met once a week, so I had seven long days until I'd see her again. I don't know why, but she intrigued me. There was a mystery here, I just knew it.

I made sure I came early for the next class. I was hoping she'd already be there, and she was. "Hey, Eric."

"Privet Reyna." I replied. "I've never had someone to converse with in Russian, would you mind?"

"Not at all." She said. "Then, at least, I'll feel like I learned it for something."

From then on, before class, we would speak Russian, with her correcting any of my mispronunciations, or wrong word usages. In the coming weeks, the others in the class started referring to us as 'the mad Russians', which we both thought was hilarious. Eventually, we played mind games with them. (It was a Psych class, after all) Russian, on a good day, sounds sinister, but when you look at someone, say something in Russian, then chuckle, well, they think you're a KGB hitman. Even the Prof, with a degree in Psychology, was wary of us.

One evening after class, after our usual coffee and small talk, Reyna said. "Those dumb fuckers, they're scared to death of us, afraid we'll kill them in their sleep."

"Like we'd waste the time." I chuckled. "There's not enough brain cells in there to register as sentience." "If they're the 'future', were screwed."

I walked Reyna to her car. "Next week?" She smiled.

"You know it." I grinned. As I walked away, I heard the familiar sound of a car trying to start with a bad battery. Rapid fire clicking, slowing to silence.

"FUCK!!!" I heard Reyna scream, pounding on the steering wheel. "NOT AGAIN!!"

Returning to her car, I knocked on the window, nearly scaring her shitless. "Damn!, sorry, can I help?"

"I fucking HATE this piece of shit." She seethed.

"Let me have a look." I said. "Mind popping the hood?"

Reyna got out and stood beside me as I looked over the engine bay of her car. "Well, what's the verdict?" She asked.

"Well, I don't know if the battery is dying, or maybe the alternator isn't keeping up." I explained. "I don't have any of my tools with me." "I'm off tomorrow, I can look at it then, if you want?"

"I'd forgotten you said you were a mechanic." She laughed. "Bit of a step down from the stuff you're used to though."

"Nah." I grinned. "Car's a car." "Truthfully, everybody thinks those supercars are great, but they're expensive to maintain, temperamental and not very reliable." "Look good parked at the side of the road though."

"Seriously." She smiled, touching my arm. "I'd really appreciate it."

"Consider it done." I beamed, patting her hand. "Can I give you a lift home?"

"Would you mind?" She inquired. "I hate the bus, especially this time of night."

She directed me through town to a small apartment complex on the outskirts. "Pull in here." She instructed. "Care to come in?"

"Sure." I said. "I enjoy talking with you, you have a twisted view of the world that pretty much mirrors my own."

"We psychopaths have to stick together." She laughed. "They'd never expect that."

Reyna opened her door, inviting me inside. Wow, what a sight. "Somebody likes Death Metal, I see." I remarked, seeing her walls covered with posters and memorabilia from just about every band I could think of. Death Metal wasn't my thing, but you'd have to live under a rock to not recognize them.

Reyna blushed. "Yeah, a little." "Used to be a Metal chick, black hair, make-up, leather, chains, tats, you name it."

"What changed?" I asked.

"That's a long story, can I get you something to drink before I start?" She inquired.

"Beer if you got it." I answered.

Reyna opened the fridge and tossed me a cold one. "You'll forgive me if I hit something a bit stronger," She pulled out a bottle of tequila and took a hit.

"I'm going to tell you a story." She started. "One I've never told anyone else, but I see something in you, something that makes me believe I can trust you, confide in you." "I'm guessing you're not a Death Metal fan."

"Not really." I said. "Is that a problem?"

"Not any more." She sighed. "There was a time though, when it was my life."

As she talked, she drank. Whatever she wanted to tell me was difficult for her.

"If you'd rather not talk about it..." I said.

"No...I really need to get this off my chest." She answered. "It's been too long."

She sat up in her chair and spoke. "Are you familiar with Dark Angel?" She asked.

"Wasn't she lead singer with...?" It wasn't coming to me.

"Mass Mayhem." She finished my thought.

"Didn't she die, about 2 years ago, if I recall?" I asked.

"Suicide, or so they'd have you believe." She said. "She was my world, my everything." "Problem was, she couldn't handle the fame, everybody wanted a piece of her, some wanted...more." "Her manager wanted her to go solo, she was the talent after all, she wrote all the band's songs, she was the band's voice." "But, it would cost her, he wanted more than his percentage, he wanted her." "She'd done a lot of things she wasn't proud of to get where she was, but that was a line too far."

By now, she was getting tipsy, and her anger was starting to rise.

"She wasn't willing to sacrifice her last scrap of dignity to achieve that goal, so she told him to Fuck Off." She spat. "He attempted to take what he wanted, but a swift kick in the balls stopped that." "He vowed he'd destroy her, she'd never work again." "Unfortunately, he succeeded all to well, turning her band against her and destroying everything she'd worked so hard to accomplish." "Suicide was the only way to end the pain."

"How do you know this, did you know her, I mean, personally?" I asked. "I don't remember a lot from her death, but if this was common knowledge, it'd be all over the news." "Media loves that kind of sick shit."

Reyna was just this side of plastered, pouring out her heart had been painful. "How do I know?" She nearly screamed. "Because...I-I'm Dark Angel, or at least I was before that fucker killed me."

Taking one last swallow from the bottle, she broke down, sobbing hysterically, wounded, defeated, crumpling on the floor.

I picked her up carefully and walked towards what I hoped was her bedroom. I was going to put her to bed, then sit with her to make sure she was OK.

As I laid her down, she passed out, totally drained, and even though I knew it was coming, I was surprised when she puked. I had prepared for it to some degree, but she still managed to trash her top, the blanket, and me in the process. "Shit." I muttered, peeling the blanket off the bed, using it as a shield in case she wasn't done. Raiding the bathroom, I found supplies to clean her up, then removed her shirt, throwing it in the sink. Only then did I realize she wasn't wearing a bra. After rummaging around for a bit, not finding anything suitable to put on her, I went, quickly, to my car and retrieved two of my t-shirts (I always keep spare clothes in my car, a VERY old habit), putting one on her, and the other on me, then covered her with a clean blanket. Grabbing one of the dining room chairs, I settled in next to the bed, listening to her snore softly.

"Eric." I heard a voice in my sleep. "Eric, wake up." I knew that voice...where?...Reyna! I opened my eyes to find her face inches from mine, smiling feebly.

"Hope you feel better than you look." I teased. "But I'm glad to see you're OK."

"Heads killing me, but I'll live." She groaned. "Uh...why am I wearing a tent, yours I presume?"

"Yeah." I blushed. "You kinda trashed your clothes, well and mine too." "And it's not a tent, you're just...small."

"I really hate it when I do that." She winced. "Sorry about that, hope I didn't freak you out."

"Why?" I asked, confused. "Seems to me you needed to get it out of your system, it was eating you alive." "Plus, it's not every day you find a long lost rock legend."

"So you believe me?" She inquired, timidly.

"I do." I said. "I'm a little confused about the suicide though, since you're not dead." "If I recall, there were witnesses, didn't she swim out to sea one night never to be seen again?"

"Yup." She grinned. "Suicide note in my bed, empty pill bottles and my clothes left at the shore, couple well placed, raving mad phone calls to voice mails and I was set." "Had a small boat about a mile off shore, in the dark it was invisible." "I've always been a good swimmer." "My best performance to date."

"Lucky for you, you found it." I laughed. "Or you'd have really..."

"Some luck was involved." She admitted. "But at that point, I really had nothing to lose." "One real plus though, after my 'death' the album sales went ballistic, since I left everything to an offshore bank account, well, let's just say I don't need to work again, ever."

"What about the tattoos?" I asked. "I've seen pictures of Dark Angel, you, from back then, your arms were covered, and I seem to recall something around your navel, I didn't see any of that, just a pair of angel wings on your shoulder blades."

"There's a butterfly on my right hip too." She grinned. "I'd be pissed if you told me you saw that one." "Had them removed, and I thought they hurt going on." "The wings are actually new, at least, post Dark Angel, call it a memorial to who I used to be."

"Makes sense, then why the college thing?" I asked.

"Bored." She answered. "I'm 28, what the fuck am I gonna do for the next 50 years?" "Music was my first love, but I can't ever go there again, someone will recognize me." "I had to find something to do."

"Psych?" I said. "Why?"

"Well, after what I've been through, I thought I might be able to help others not to make my mistakes." She shrugged. "Plus, I like to fuck with people's minds, this way, I get paid."

I laughed. "That's my favorite thing about you."

"For what it's worth." She said, suddenly serious. "You're the first person I've been around that didn't know me as Dark Angel." "I'd been her since I was 16 or so and once we got some degree of fame, I had all these fanboys, and fangirls, you'd be surprised how many lesbians have a bad girl fetish, but none of them gave a shit about me, about Reyna." "Last night you could have... well, you know, but you didn't." She kissed me on the cheek. "Thank You."

"Now, if you don't mind." She groaned. "I'm going to hit the john and take a shower, maybe I'll feel human again, then I guess we need to retrieve my car."

While she showered, I made some breakfast, it wasn't much, but she seemed pleased.

We swung by the shop, so I could get a few tools and such, then went back to her car. A few hours and several hundred dollars later, I had repaired, replaced or adjusted everything I could. "It should be good to go now." I stated, closing the hood and wiping the grime from my hands. "Might want to consider some maintenance in the future."

"What." She feigned surprise. "You mean they don't run forever, how unforgivable." "Seriously, though, thanks."

"No problem." I smiled. "One of the few things I'm good at."

"Well, I don't know about that." She giggled. "What do I owe you?"

"For what?" I asked.

"You fixed my car, labor isn't free, you know." She protested. "Your time's worth something."

"I've never charged a friend labor in my whole life." I said. "Not gonna start now."

"You...I'm..." She sputtered. "I've n-never h-had a f-friend b-before." "Not a r-real one a-anyway." She hugged me, burying her head in my chest. "D-do you r-really m-mean it?"

"Of course." I answered, hugging her back "You're smart, witty, got one hellava sense of humor, and those eyes, I know their contacts, but they're SO you."

"Can I at least buy you dinner?" She asked, voice still trembling.

"That." I grinned. "Would be acceptable." "I will, however, need to clean up before we go." "I'll pick you up at, say 7."

"I'll be ready, dress nice." She smiled. "Where we're going, coat and tie are mandatory."

Guess I'll be making one more stop, I thought to myself, as I don't own anything even close to nice enough to go wherever it is she has in mind.

After my impromptu shopping trip I returned home, showered, shaved and dressed. The clerk at the men's clothing store was very helpful, I didn't look like a total tool. Well dressed, still a dork.

I had to admit, I was nervous, even though Reyna and I were just friends, this felt like a date, something I hadn't done in a long time, and the first time I'd had these thoughts since my divorce. My ex made me feel like everything was my fault, like I was some unfeeling machine, unable to show emotions. Reyna had seen the real me, who I really am, she's not running away. In fact, I'm starting to see something in her eyes, something I can't quite explain. I hope I'm not misreading her.

I dropped by the dealership and conned the manager out of one of the used cars on the lot for the night. A purple Lamborghini Murciélago. He owed me a favor, this ate up several.

I arrived just before 7, I wanted to get there a bit early, so I could surprise her. I knocked on the door and she answered. She was wearing a little black dress, short, but not too short and heels, with a black choker. It was the first time I'd seen her in something other than her baggy hoodie and jeans. She had a nice figure, petite, but with enough curves to draw my attention.

"You look stunning." I said, trying not to drool. "There is a girl, and a pretty one too, under those hoodies."

"You clean up decently as well." She teased. "Ready to go?"

"Not quite yet." I said, grinning. "I need you to close your eyes, I have a surprise for you." I took her hand and walked her, carefully, to the car. "OK, open."

She opened her eyes, then her mouth dropped open. "Oh my God!" She squealed. "It's beautiful." She hugged me, nearly jumping up and down. "I love the color."

"I thought you might." I smiled. "Nearly matches your eyes." "And before you ask, it's not mine, I borrowed it from work."

"Don't care." She beamed. "I love it anyway."

After she was in, I shut the door, then we took off. "Where we going?" I inquired.

"Just follow my directions." She smiled, coyly.

For the next 20 minutes, I dutifully followed her directions, not sure where we were going. I hadn't been to this part of town.

"Next right, then pull under the awning." She said, grinning. "Watch the valets, they'll be fighting one another to park this thing."

She was right. When we pulled up, they all jumped to attention. One opened her door, helping her out of the car, another came around and opened my door. "Good evening sir." He said. "Welcome to the Grotto."

"Thanks." I responded, handing him the keys.

I walked around the car and offered Reyna my arm. "Nice place." I said. "Hope I don't embarrass you."

"I don't care if you dance on the table." She smiled. "You being you is just fine by me." "Just enjoy yourself, don't sweat it."

We were seated promptly, our waiter bringing us menus and taking our orders. I'd never seen a place like this before, at least not in person. Opulent, ostentatious, I was dumbstruck.

"I'm going to ask, even though I know the answer." I said. "You can afford this?"

"In all honesty." She giggled. "I could probably BUY the place."

"Damn." I gasped. I knew she said she'd never have to work again, but just...DAMN!

We ate and talked the night away. As fantastic as the food was, the company was better. Reyna laughed and smiled, melting my heart. I was glad she could be happy, especially knowing her dark secret. All to soon, we had to leave. The valets made quite the fuss retrieving the Lambo, then we were off.

"Is there somewhere we can go to open this baby up?" Reyna asked. "It's been a long time since I was in a car this fast."

"I've got the perfect place in mind." I said. "I use it to test drive after I fix them."

I took her for a spin on my test circuit, a combination of tight curves and long straights. The Lambo's engine screamed behind us as I pushed the car, topping 160MPH once or twice. Then I pulled in a turnoff and shut the car down.