The Beast in Me

"You should try out," Helen called to her, as Lucia shot past her. "You know, whenever you can get out of bed!"

Lucia gave her a double dose of the middle finger.

***

Lucia sat back and said, "Huh."

The small practice rooms in the back of Bill's Guitars didn't have a lot of room to sit back, but the eggshell foam padding wasn't uncomfortable.

Her student, Gene, smiled excitedly. "What do you think?"

"I think your drummer keeps incredible time."

He blinked in surprise as he picked up his phone and fiddled with it. "Really? I mean, I thought he was good, but what the fuck do I know? You think so too?"

"It jumped out at me. He might even be better than I am."

"Really?"

"Yeah! It's a good demo! I mean, it sounds like shit, but that's how all first demos are, man!"

"Thanks!" he said, grinning stupidly.

"You and the bassist sound pretty tight too!"

"Yeah," he said, his cheeks coloring dramatically. "She's really good."

"Oh, is that who was singing?"

Gene nodded. "I don't know how she can do both, but she can pull it off."

"Yeah," she said, "some people can just multitask like that. I can't either, for what it's worth." She nodded a few more times, processing what she'd heard, and smiled broadly. "Yeah!"

"What about Kenny?"

Lucia swallowed hard and clenched her teeth. She'd wanted to dance around that. "That's... lead guitar, I'm guessing?"

"Yeeeah."

"Yeeeeeah," she replied. And shook her head. "Not sure what he's doing, but he's trying to play a completely different song. Like, you guys are kinda heading toward an alt-grunge thing maybe, and he's trying shred with you."

"Yes!" Gene said, throwing up his hands in frustration. "God!"

"Aw, that sucks. You were saying before that you were all coming from different directions, and it sounds like maybe this one doesn't really jive?"

Gene shrugged, blushed, and then very slowly worked up to looking at her very directly.

"What?"

"We really only brought him on because he was the best guitarist any of us knew." He was still looking at her.

"Gene."

"Luc."

Lucia rolled her eyes, and rolled her hands over each other in rapid succession like she was tumbling something between them. "What are you trying to say here?"

Gene rolled his head back and sighed, explosively. "You're the best guitarist any of us know. Or, that I know, anyway."

"Look, I'm flattered, but... " Lucia sat back and folded her arms across her chest. "You don't want me."

"No," he said, "I think we do! I played some of your albums for them."

"I mean, I don't sound anything like that guy there," she said, pointing at Gene's phone. "Though, I guess that's a good thing?" She tried to think of who she played like, to give him a better idea of what he was in for, and before she could answer, he cut in.

"We're gonna jam on Saturday."

Looking that far ahead, past Friday, made the bottom of her stomach drop out. Her mouth went dry, and her palms started sweating. Instead of rattling off players she knew, she said, "Okay, so what do you guys want to sound like?"

"I don't know," he said. "Incubus? Faith No More? Or... um... have you ever heard of Orange Goblin?"

"Orange Goblin," Lucia repeated, thoughtfully. "How do you even know who they are?"

"We're thinking of calling ourselves Graviton."

"Oh, I love that song," she said. "Yeah. Yeah, that one is in my wheelhouse. The others I like, and I can chameleon my way through a lot, but if Orange Goblin is what you wanna sound like, then I think I can help."

"Coool," Gene said, nodding emphatically.

The mention of Faith No More, though, got her brain thinking, and Lucia narrowed her eyes in thought. Midlife Crisis was probably number 2 on her all-time song list, and she started thinking about playing it, except that without the keys they would need more guitarists. She was almost always of the opinion that replacing keyboards with guitars was a net gain, and she'd need several more if she wanted to play Midlife Crisis live, to recreate the multiple tracks.

"Oh shit," she said. "I have an idea."

***

"Your ex," Helen said, wielding her disbelieving eyebrow like a cagey veteran, "is Vivian Leblanc? That's who you were talking about?"

Lucia nodded. She ran her hands back through her hair, tucking the long black strands behind both ears, and took another bracing breath.

"Why is she coming here? Do you..." Helen pointed at herself. "Do you think you're gonna need backup?"

"No," she said, firmly. "No. It'll be fine."

Helen licked her lips, squinted into the distance, and leaned on the counter so she could whisper, "Are you trying to get back with her?"

Lucia shook her head. "No. No, there's no chance of that. I... I know that now., but this could be the start of getting her back in my life? Maybe?"

Helen frowned, just for a moment, and considered her before saying, "Okay, so..."

Lucia frowned, thoughtfully, and said, "Bunch of years ago we came back from a tour, and Kevin's mom started pleading with him to go into rehab. She's worried about him. Something with his dad. His dad might have died. I forget."

"Okay," Helen said, nodding as she listened.

"His dad hadn't been in his life for a while. It was just him, his mom, and his little brother. Now, Kevin had it the worst out of all of us. I'm an addict, but that's just a..." She swallowed hard. "That's a personality flaw."

"Unfair, but go on."

Lucia rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Vivian, she... she had her own thing, but she didn't use like Kevin and I did. Kevin, though, he was actively burying some... heavy stuff. He was hiding from some things, but when it came to his mom, he'd do anything. She gets him into this clinic, and he knows it's coming. We've got a couple days, and we'd written... Vivian had written a whole album's worth while we were on the road. We've got, like, a weekend before he goes and gets clean so we quick booked some studio time, and he recorded everything we needed from him."

"How long," Helen said, smirking, "is this story?"

"I'm getting there," she replied. "Viv and I recorded the rest of the album ourselves. Took almost two months, and we had to do most of the rest of it in my old apartment to save money. I had a spare bedroom where we—you know what, that part doesn't matter. Point is, he was gone for two months.

"As he got close to being done, they let him have some phone privileges. We knew when he was getting out, so we scheduled a couple shows around town. We get all our gear unloaded, we get everything all set up. I'm sitting backstage. Viv's in the bathroom throwing up." She stopped and held up her hands. "She had stage fright. Threw up before every show."

"That sucks," Helen said, honestly.

Lucia nodded. "Half a bottle of whiskey later, though, she's ready to go. I'm ready to go. It's showtime. No Kevin. Five minutes late. Ten. Fifteen minutes after we were supposed to go on, and the crowd is getting loud, Kev finally shows, and he's so high that he's practically glowing. Absolutely lit."

Helen shifted her weight, planted her elbow on the bar, and propped up her chin.

"We go out there, and our first song is terrible. I mean, absolutely awful. The worst we'd ever sounded. We'd sent Kevin a copy of the album. He said he was good to play it, and that he wanted to play the whole thing, right? But he keeps playing too fast. Like, way too fast. Viv and me, we tried to get him to slow down, but he wasn't listening to us. Wasn't taking our cues. I don't even think he really knew we were there with him. He was on another planet, just going. That song was already like two hundred beats per minute, but he's playing closer to two forty. Maybe two fifty." For reference, she made a fist, extended her index finger, and tapped it sixteen times against the bar in under three seconds. "First song's over. Vivian turns to me, and we just look at each other. We didn't need to say anything. She grinned, and I grinned, and it was like head down, ass up, see you at the finish line."

"I like that," Helen said, laughing.

"We finished a thirty-seven minute, forty-four second album in under thirty minutes. To his dying day, Kevin argued that it was our best show, and I don't know that he was wrong."

Helen blinked slowly. "So... you had chemistry."

"On stage, yeah. Ridiculous chemistry. Don't get me wrong, it was a nightmare to play that fast for that long. I think I lost, like, five pounds on stage that night. I could barely move for the next couple days, and Vivian? Fucked up her arm. We had to cancel the other shows."

"And you're hoping that, what, you two can play together again?"

Lucia shrugged. "I don't think she'll go for it."

"But you're gonna try."

It was a long, quiet moment before she said, "Yes."

"So... why now?"

Lucia immediately intuited what was being asked, but played dumb. "Why now what?"

"You've been back in Portland for... how long did you say? Two months? Three?"

Step eight. Those we have harmed. "I accidentally, but then totally on purpose, stalked Vivian's girlfriend, in that order."

"This is how you tell a story," Helen said, but her eyes were guarded and tight. The humor was a front.

"I ran into her on the bus. It was an accident.... But then I started talking to her and kind of followed her home."

"It was an accident?"

Lucia shrugged hopelessly. "I know how it sounds. I just... If I asked you to, would you trust me that that was how it happened?"

Helen didn't say anything. Not at first. Eventually, though, she said, "Okay. So that's why she's coming today."

"Yeah."

Helen nodded, rapped her knuckle against the bar, and went to handle another patron, leaving Lucia alone with her thoughts: a situation Lucia usually avoided at all costs. It didn't really register to her that Helen had walked away angry, because all she could focus on was Vivian. Not wanting to spend too much time overthinking things, Lucia turned and watched the door.

She didn't have to wait long. A few minutes later, Vivian came through the door like a SWAT team. She spied Lucia and pivoted without missing a beat. Lucia smiled and stood up, pushing the high backed chair next to her aside so that Vivian could sit, but Vivian just sneered.

"Viv! Hey—"

"Don't you Hey Viv me, you fucking psycho."

Lucia stared, slack jawed, as Vivian came to stand right in front of her, looming over her. They might have only been a few inches apart in height, but Lucia suddenly felt very, very small. "Wh-what?"

"I'm here because Delia said I needed this, but the truth is that I have nothing to say to you. I'm done with you. I'm over you. Do you get that?"

"Viv, I—"

"You have no idea what you did to me. What you put me through. The way you led me on, for years, and you knew—you knew!— you were never gonna make good on any of it. Do you know how fucking cruel that was? You never had any feelings for me, but you knew that I did and you played me. You manipulated me! Do you know how worthless you made me feel? That you'd just up and leave me in the middle of the fucking day?"

"It wasn't like that," she whimpered.

"The fuck it wasn't!"

"Hey," came Helen's voice, from across the room.

"That wasn't about you," Lucia sobbed. "I fucked up, and I couldn't—"

"You're goddamn right you fucked up," Vivian said, jabbing a finger at her. "You're goddamn right it wasn't about me! It was never about me! It was always about you, you selfish fuck!"

"Hey!"

Lucia flinched when Helen appeared next to them. She was more of a height with Vivian, though a bit broader, and the two of them stared each other down. Vivian gave her a quick look from head to toe, and then gave Lucia a twisted grin.

"She came right over, huh?" Then, after another brief look, she added, "That why you wanted to meet here? Are you fucking her too?"

"Vivian!" Lucia said, exasperated, at the same time that Helen said, "Okay, I think it's time you left."

Vivian turned to her, like Helen had ceased to exist, and leaned in close. "I need you to get this through your head. You and me? We're not friends. We're nothing. I didn't think I'd need to say this, but apparently I do. Do not come around again. Do not stalk my girlfriend. Stay out of my life."

"Let's go," Helen said, putting her hand on Vivian's shoulder.

"Don't touch me," Vivian shouted, brushing Helen's hand away and taking a step back. "It's fine. I'm going."

"Vivian, wait!" Lucia cried.

"You're pathetic," Vivian snarled, viciously.

Helen gave her a shove toward the door, and when Vivian got her balance again it looked like they were going to come to blows. She'd never seen Vivian so irate. Instead of shoving back, Vivian just spat on the floor on her way out.

"Classy," Helen said, dryly, and got a full-fledged bras d'honneur in return.

Once Vivian was gone, the bar went deathly silent. Helen stood for a few seconds, hands on her hips while her chest rose and fell dramatically. Puffing like a steam engine. When she turned around, though, she wore a tight smile. She said, loud enough for the whole bar to hear, "Next round's on the house."

The room erupted in grateful cheers, but Lucia heard little of it. She was barely aware of Helen even as the red headed bartender slipped an arm around her shoulder and ushered her toward the back.

She was gutted. In between one blink and the next she found herself upstairs in Helen's apartment. She sat on the edge of the bed, and Helen said some things to her—a story about her husband unofficially doubling as the bouncer, because of his temper—but Lucia didn't really process it. None of it really sank in except when Helen said she'd be right back. And then Lucia was alone, which was what she deserved. She sat very still, and she stared at the floor, and the minutes trickled by.

After a little while she got up and went to the bathroom, which was a mistake, because her least favorite person in the world was waiting for her there. There was no avoiding her, and when Lucia saw her she saw the fear and revulsion. Her gaze was inescapable, and Lucia couldn't handle the judgement; the depth of the hatred was astounding. The longer she stared at the mirror, the tighter her chest felt, and when she couldn't breathe any more she leaned forward on the counter. Her hand brushed something cold, and Lucia stared at it for a long moment. Then she grabbed the scissors in a fit of mania, and started cutting.

When Helen returned, a little while later, she only made it a few steps in the door before she stopped cold. "That is the gayest thing I've ever seen," she said, without a hint of sarcasm or humor.

Lucia blinked, nervously fidgeting with her freshly cropped hair. The hair was a little longer on top, parted near her ear and combed all the way over to the other, and then tapered down in length the further down it went. She had no idea what she'd been going for, and she'd left a hell of a mess for later, but it had made the right first impression. She stood up from where she'd been sitting, at Helen's small kitchen table, crossed the distance, and kissed her.

"Whoa," Helen said, but she did not push Lucia away.

Lucia kissed her again. Longer.

"Luc, wait."

Lucia did not wait. She kissed her again. This time, Helen grabbed her by her upper arms, and Lucia purred at being grabbed.

"Okay, look," Helen said, squeezing her eyes shut. "That, downstairs, that was, like, all red flags... all the things she said... but... I don't think that's who you are. Not anymore, anyway. I'm... fuck me running, I'm choosing to believe that, okay?"

Lucia leaned, neck extending, and tried to kiss Helen again, but Helen backed up and held her at arms length.

"Stop. Stop!" She took a rubber band off her wrist, and slipped it onto Lucia's. "This is a conversation we're going to have later," she said, tugging on it with the tip of her finger, "okay? We're just putting it to the side for a moment."

Lucia nodded and pushed forward again—the sooner they were kissing, the sooner she could stop thinking—but Helen's grip was too much. Which, she thought, was hot.

Helen compressed her lips to a thin, tight line, and scowled. "Look," she said, "I'm..." She grunted, and took another rubber band off her wrist. "This one too. Two conversations. For now, though, just... Banana. You got it?"

She nodded slowly without really comprehending.

As soon as the redhead let go of her arms, though, Lucia started moving forward again. Helen's eyes flared as she said, "Sit. Down."

Lucia dropped back into the kitchen seat with a thwump, and her jaw went slack. There had been such a jolt through her at being ordered to do something. It was an affront to her mile-wide rebellious streak, which was itself getting quite a thrill from rebelling against the idea that she always needed to be contrarian. She found herself breathing quite heavily as she stared up at Helen, with her crossed arms and her unimpressed smirk.

"You're kind of a brat."

Little by little, Lucia felt her mouth going dry as she started to maybe possibly figure out where this was going. Maybe.

"Stay."

She nodded, slowly, and watched in wonder as Helen stormed off past her bed and into her closet. She sat very still, listening very carefully to the sounds. A zipper here. Rustling there. A... creaking? When she reappeared, Lucia's eyes bulged.

"This is for me," Helen said, gesturing to her leather corset. It had two thick over-the-shoulder straps that started far out to the side and came back in around behind her neck, giving her already impressive bust a bit more cleavage. As she walked, hands clasped behind her back and shoulders spread, she added, "I feel powerful in this." The bottoms of the corset functioned as a garter belt, and clipped onto some very thick-banded thigh-high stockings, with the look completed by a pair of lethal black heels.

Lucia self-consciously clapped her jaw shut and blinked.

"I don't get to wear it as often as I used to," she said, with a kind of dark wistfulness, "but there was a time."

The corset cinched her waist, with the criss-cross lacing set in the front of it, and it gave her a shape that, on any other day, would have given Lucia a terrible case of dry mouth. On any other day, she would have bandied and quipped, and needled Helen about having something like that ready to go. On any other day, Lucia would have found a way to get herself paddled, since, she now assumed, there was probably a paddle there somewhere.

But Lucia wasn't up to talking just then and she wasn't up to confronting why that was, so she just watched. Helen stalked past and around her, and she saw that they were the kind of stockings that had a thick seam running up the back of the leg, and she squirmed.

As she came back around, Helen stepped over Lucia's legs and sat on her lap, and Lucia experienced a gay panic as she had never felt in her entire life.

"I can work with quiet," Helen whispered.

Every time their faces came together, and Lucia leaned in to kiss her, Helen drew back just a little. Every time she drew back, those lips spread into a smile. She could feel Helen's breath on her, warm and wet, and she yearned for more. Lucia's heart leapt when she felt Helen tugging up on her shirt, and she helpfully raised her arms to let it pass. The sports bra that she wore, purely to mute her nipples, went too, before she put her arms down.

Lucia tentatively laid her hands on Helen's thighs, and Helen popped back to her feet with a smug, "Ah ah ah." Once again, Helen circled her, but this time when she stopped behind Lucia she drew Lucia's arms behind her, around the chairback. All the little hairs on the back of her neck, and there were many of them now, stood on end as she felt steel snap into place around her wrist, with a snkt-snkt. Handcuffs.