The Journey Ch. 02

"I, uh, I'll... think about it."

"I hope so. If you choose not to come back, it was very nice to have met you, Vivian. And good luck pursuing your engineering degree."

"Thank... thank you."

"Hope to see you again next week!" She hung up.

I lowered my phone from my ear and stared at it.

"Was that a fucking joke?" I looked around at the empty alley to make sure no one had listening.

She couldn't have been serious. No way I was going back to that class.

Mala came over the speakers as I walked back to the lane to pick up my ball and I sang along with Becky G as I danced back to my mark.

¡Yo no soy mala, mala! ¡No soy tan mala, mala!

¡Yo no soy mala, mala! ¡Cambia esa cara!

~~ The Hideout, Springfield, VA ~~

"Gimme a mojito!" I yelled over the noise of the crowd and the thumping dance music.

The bartender nodded and moved off to make my drink while I turned back to the middle of the room where a hundred or more people were dancing.

With my first week of school in the rear view, I was feelin' high. Calculus seemed like I was going to have no problems with it, and I decided I'd earned a celebration. Unfortunately, Manny was in bed with a cold and I didn't want to go solo to Smitty's, our dive bar. The few other friends I felt comfortable asking to go out (a list that was pretty much limited to my old roommates, who weren't really my biggest fans anymore) made excuses to not come.

Which was fine, I never felt I needed a wingman. And since I got to pick where I was going, I'd decided on hitting a dance club I hadn't been to in a while. I'd either find someone who was interested in me, or I'd get a workout on the dance floor. Either way, a good night in my book.

I'd gotten more dolled up than I had in a long time, touching up the shaved sides and back of my head with my clippers, making the stubble almost skin tight then gelling the top straight up. I'd almost gone with the zero guard on the sides, but then I thought that might be ten percent too butch, so the number one guard would do. Staring in the mirror, I'd carefully used my clippers and a comb to make sure the top was flat and even.

I'd paused a moment, regarding the scar on my forehead from my train accident three years before. I'd been sitting in the tunnel during rush hour, waiting for the train ahead of me to clear the station so I could pull in, when the train behind me had run through a faulty sensor and rear-ended me, throwing me headfirst into the control console. Starting just above my right eyebrow, my scar went straight up and ended at my hairline. I'd turned my head back and forth in the light of the bathroom mirror. It was faint, you had to really look close to notice it. I guess I had Addie's doctor chick to thank for that; she'd done a really good job sewing up the huge gash.

I thought back to that moment, hazy as the memory was. What dumb fucking luck I got taken to the same E.R. where the woman who Addie was really in love with worked. That I'd get her for my doctor. That she'd be there when Addie came to get me. That I'd have to see how Addie had looked at her... right in front of me.

I should have broken it off with Addison that night. It had been so obvious she was into the doctor chick more than me. I couldn't blame her. She was a doctor chick. I was a high-school grad. Barely. Addison graduated from law school. She belonged with someone smart enough to be a doctor. Not... me.

As much as I'd wished otherwise.

I shook myself and tried to focus on the fact I was out to have a good time tonight. I was working my A-game look. A tight tank-top showed off my arms, with my full sleeve tattoo, and my thick leather wrist band I liked to wear when clubbing. I had on baggy jeans, my Doc Martens and added my heavy chrome wallet chain to complete the look.

My goal was to leave no doubt I was a lesbian. Any guy hitting on me tonight would have to be as clueless as they come.

Not to say that wouldn't happen. Almost always did if I wasn't in a gay bar. Men.

The bartender came back and I left a ten on the counter then made my way towards the dance floor, sipping my drink and checking out the crowd. I saw a woman or two that I'd seen at other clubs, a few women who were probably gay, way more who were not. The gays ones looked like couples. Too bad.

There was one woman who caught my eye in particular, halfway around the dance floor, chatting with a group of people. Her short, dark hair was so uniformly black I was sure it was a dye job, especially with her pale white skin. She had only a tight leather vest for a top, jeans, and high tops. Hmmm, a possibility my gaydar told me.

I couldn't tell if she was with anyone in the group. They were all talking and joking around, like they were in an episode of Friends. I hated that show. Maybe she'd separate out from her herd later. I'd have to keep an eye out for her.

The intro violin sample of Love Again came over the speakers, and I could feel my body start to vibrate with excitement. I knew it was time to hit the dance floor. I could troll for chicks to buy drinks all night, but right now I needed to move my body. I drained the last of my mojito, sucking an ice cube onto my mouth and crunching it between my teeth, then abandoned the highball glass on a standing table at the edge of the dance floor whose occupants were in the process of signing their credit card slip. They gave me the side-eye, but I paid them no mind. First rule of clubbing, never leave your drink unattended. If you set it down, you're done with it.

I made my way through the outer edge of the crowd, who were being half-assed about their dancing, and pushed my way into the heart of the throng. As soon as I was ensconced in the safe anonymity of a mass of moving bodies, I let myself go, whirling around, my hips shaking to the beat, eyes half closed, mouthing the lyrics to myself.

Dance music in general was my jam, but this song always got me going. Maybe it was Dua Lipa's rich voice, one I'd love to hear whispering in my ear. Maybe it was that the lyrics were wish fulfillment.

Never have I ever met somebody like you.

Used to be afraid of love and what it might do

But -goddamn- you got me in love again.

The DJ smoothly rolled into Opps, and I never stopped my groove, just altering my steps to stay with Kendrick's beat, and for the next half hour I danced. I danced by myself, then flowed into a group dance with a cluster of people who were grooving together, splitting off to dance alone again, then with a guy who made his way up to me. I didn't have a problem dancing with a dude, as long as he didn't get the wrong idea about what was happening.

This one did, of course, and on the second song he moved in to grind on me. I performed a move I'd practiced countless times, whirling my body in place, my arms over my head, my hips rocking as they circled. This had the effect of whipping my wallet chain out from my body and whacking him solidly in the dick. He grabbed his crotch and bent over halfway while I kept dancing, pretending not to notice what I'd done. By the time I'd made my third turn he had moved off towards the edge of the dance floor, holding himself, and I found myself dancing with an extremely gay black guy who was the only one I'd seen tonight with the moves to hang with me, then back to dancing solo in the middle of the crowd after his boyfriend cut in.

I was thinking about taking a breather when I spun around and found myself face to face with vest girl, moving in to dance with me. I made room for her and she grinned at me as Timber came on, Ke$ha and Pitbull telling us we'd better move, we'd better dance. She moved in close, our bodies synching up like we'd danced together before. I held up my right hand, and she laced the fingers of her left in mine. I spun her, then pulled her back in, our knees sliding comfortably between each other's legs. As the song went on, I pulled her tighter and tighter to me.

You know how sometimes when you dance, you bump and stumble with your partner when you're too close? But then sometimes when it's just perfect, when the stars align, you could move together like you were background dancers for the latest hip-hop video and you'd practiced for hours.

This was like that.

Let's make a night, you won't remember,

I'll be the one, you won't forget.

The song ended and the DJ made his first misstep since I'd walked in the door, playing the B-52s. Ugh, white people dance music.

She stepped back a half step from me. Her cleavage was gleaming with a sheen of perspiration, and I knew I probably looked the same.

"Nice moves!" She yelled over the music.

"I need a break. Can I buy you a drink?" I hooked my thumb back towards the bar.

"Lead the way!"

There was only one opening at the bar, barely big enough for one person. We both squeezed ourselves into it, her leather vest pressed up against me. I put my arm around her for balance. She smelled of lavender and sweat. Heavenly.

"Tito's and soda," she told the bartender. I ordered another mojito.

"I'm Viv," I said, shouting at a slightly reduced volume now that we were somewhat removed from the din of the dance floor.

"Lacy. I haven't seen you in here before."

"Haven't been here in a while."

"Well you've been going out somewhere, nobody moves like that without practice."

"All-natural talent."

"Right," she said with a grin.

"Where are you—" She stopped as the bartender arrived with our drinks. Grateful for the interruption, I lifted mine to hers. We touched glasses and drank.

I always hated when someone started off asking where I was from. Some of the time they meant "Are you from Northern Virginia?" and sometimes they meant "Are you from another country?" I really didn't want to find out which one Lacy meant.

I found out she was a hairdresser, which led to jokes about my haircut and her complimenting me after I said I'd done it myself. I told her I was a Metro driver, which she seemed to think was cool. We exchanged little touches as we talked and I could tell this was headed in a direction I'd like. I even started planning on maybe giving her my real phone number at the end of the night. That is, if she didn't take me home. Then I'd give it to her in the morning. Anyone who could dance like her was worth a second date.

She reached out and curled her pinkie around mine as she finished the last of her drink as the DJ started Sucker. I leaned in and spoke in her ear.

"I think we should hit the dance floor again." I brushed my lips across the top of her ear when I did. She shivered and nodded at me, grinning. As we stepped away from the bar, pinkies still intertwined, a beefy guy with red hair, wearing a pink polo shirt blocked our path.

"Lacy, we need to talk," he said. Not very friendly-like, either.

"How did you know I was here?" Lacy seemed shocked.

"John texted me and said you were here with Mary and the gang. What are you doing with her?" He pointed a finger at me.

"None of your fucking business, Keith! I broke up with you, remember? Or did that slut I caught you with suck your brain out through your dick?"

Oh Christ, I thought, why do girls who want to hook up with me always seem to end up being bi with guy problems?

"There's nothing to talk about, so get out of our way. We're going to dance." She hooked her arm through mine. He didn't move and I felt distinctly uncomfortable being used as her cover.

"Baby, why can't we talk? You know she meant nothing, it was just a stupid mistake."

Jesus, could this guy be more of a stereotype? Maybe I can head this off.

"Listen dude, tonight's just not the night for you guys to talk. So, if you'd let us by, we're—"

"Shut up, bitch, this is between me and her, not you."

I saw red, but only let a little grin show on my face.

"Excuse me?" I said, dropping Lacy's arm and taking a half-step away from her to give myself room to move if I needed to.

"I said, fuck off. I don't need a dyke trying to mack on my girl."

The 'dyke' didn't really get to me the way I think he'd hoped. I referred to myself as that on occasion. But his ownership attitude over Lacy was pissing me off. Especially seeing her shrink away from him as he got more hostile.

"It sounds like you gave up rights to the 'my girl' thing when you couldn't keep it in your pants, pinche pendejo, now let us by."

When my temper was riding high, I always seemed to channel what I remembered of my dad when he was angry, and I could hear the chicana, strong in my voice. I reached out, put my fingertips in his chest and gave him a light push to get him to move out of my way.

He reacted fast, shoving me hard in my chest with both hands and I fell back on my ass.

"Fuck you, spic, you give a whole new meaning to the term bean-eater."

No, you fucking didn't! I was back on my feet in a flash. I put all my weight behind the punch, trying to drive my fist through his face and felt the shock through my shoulder as I connected.

It didn't floor him like I'd hoped. He covered his face with one hand and yelled "Fuck!" Then, before I could react, his own fist was coming back at me.

Stars exploded in my vision and I went down hard. I tried to jump back to my feet again, but my arms and legs didn't want to listen to me. One eye didn't want to open either, but through the other I saw him being dog piled by several other patrons and heard people yelling for security.

Well, this certainly wasn't how I'd hoped my night would go, I thought later as I stood in the parking lot next to a police cruiser, holding the bag of ice the bartender had so thoughtfully given me against my eye.

Lacy walked up to me. "Hey, I told the cops it was all Keith's fault. He started it, shoved you to the floor."

"Thanks."

"After they talk to you, do you want to get out of here?"

"You mean if they don't haul me in and I get to spend the night on a cement bed? Yeah, if that doesn't happen I definitely want to get out of here."

"That won't happen."

I laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, right. They never arrest the Hispanic girl, we're presumed innocent until proven guilty."

She looked befuddled as to what to say. "Uh, I mean... What I meant is would you like to come back to my place and—"

"No thanks, Lacy," I snapped, gesturing to my ice-pack covered eye, "I obviously have enough drama going on without dating a woman with a psychotic ex-boyfriend."

She gave me a hurt look, then turned and walked away without saying anything else.

I'd briefly considered the pros and cons of going back to her place and letting her have revenge sex with me, but my eye being swollen shut had really killed my mood. A grey-haired, white police officer ambled over to me.

"Name?" he asked without preamble. I was sure this was going to go great.

"Vivian Esparza."

"Got any ID, Vivian?"

I pulled my wallet out by the chain, extracted my Virginia driver's license and handed it to him without comment. He walked back to his car to run me through his computer. A few minutes later he came back.

"Want to tell me your side of the story?" He said as his partner, a huge black officer, probably fifteen years younger came over and stood a few steps behind him.

I quickly told him more or less exactly what had happened, not evading the fact that I'd punched the guy, but not until after he'd shoved me to the ground.

"I see," he said, tapping my license on his palm and looking at me thoughtfully. I looked past him to see that Keith guy holding an ice pack to his own face. I took some satisfaction that while my eye was swollen shut, his Polo shirt was covered in blood that had streamed out of his nose after I'd flattened it. Pretty sure I could call this a win.

"So, our options here are you can each press charges against each other, in which case we'll take you both in. Or you can call it a night, and both get the hell out of here right now. The bar doesn't want to make a big stink of it, if you two don't either."

"Fine with me as long as he doesn't give me any shit."

"Are you driving?"

"Walking."

"Okay, we'll call tonight a warning." I reached for my license, but he held it up away from me before I could grab it. "One more thing Vivian. Mr. Broken Nose there said you were yelling Spanish at him during the fight. Do you have a green card to go with this?"

"What?" I almost yelled. I saw his partner grimace and take another step closer.

"You heard me. You illegal?"

"Illegal?! I was born in fucking Woodbridge asshole, I'm a goddamn American!"

"Take it easy, Vivian."

"Don't call me Vivian, you condescending prick! Did you ask him if he was undocumented?" I pointed at the asshole I'd punched. I knew I was flirting with getting cuffed and stuffed, but all I could feel was white-hot rage.

The other officer put his hand on the white pig's elbow and spoke quietly in his ear. He turned his head slightly to listen without taking his eyes off me. He regarded me for a long, uncomfortable moment.

"Where do you work, Miss Esparza?" the white officer asked me.

"Fuck, are you kidding me with this? I'm a train driver for Metro and if you think they don't use E-Verify, you're fucking nuts." I dug in my wallet again, pulled out my WMATA ID badge and held it up. "Here! This good enough for you, officer?"

He shined his flashlight on it, then on my face. I held up my hand to shield my eyes.

"Alright, Miss Esparza," he drawled, finally handing me my license. "You should get out of here before we turn him loose. And the bar asks that you not come back."

"Fine by me!"

I shoved my wallet in my back pocket and stalked off into the night.

~~ NOVA Community College, Alexandria Campus ~~

The room was already half-full of students when I walked in. I'd stood outside the building until it was almost time for class. Not because I was nervous this time. It was a really nice day, and I wanted to soak up the evening sunshine and enjoy the fresh air until the last minute before I had to go sit in a windowless room for a couple hours.

She was in the same aisle seat as last time, and I eased past her knees again to take my same seat in the back row.

"Hey Dr. May."

"Vivian! I'm so glad you see you again, I— Oh my goodness, what happened to your eye? Are you okay?"

You couldn't miss my black eye. It wasn't swollen shut anymore, but there was still an ugly yellow and purple bruise the size of a goose egg around it.

"Just a little accident. It looks worse than it feels. Thanks for asking."

"I'm glad to hear that."

A couple of students stopped to ask her questions about various subjects and I sat in silence while the room filled up. Right before class was about to start, she turned back to me.

"If you don't mind me asking, what changed your mind about dropping my class?"

I grinned, then sucked in a breath as the motion caused a stab of pain in my eye socket.

"Intersectionality."

To Be Continued...

Thank you for reading this chapter friend. Please leave me a comment and let me know what you thought. Feedback from my readers is always appreciated and makes great fuel for writing. If you are interested in the music in this story check my bio page for more information.

Special thanks go out to my beta readers, ArmyGal33, Bramblethorn, GinnyPPC and especially AvidReader223. As always, an extra special thanks to my editor, AwkwardMD.