jessewestend

Ok. Christ almighty what a weird, long shitty night...

here's the story in its entirety. mind the typos if they exist...

The Girl with Purple Hair
By Jesse Shipley
Cancer, a prelude.
Huxley was overwhelmed by the taste of her. Bare legs wrapped around his back as fierce, delicate hands pulled hard at his hair from behind. She was clawing at him savagely, as if in anger; she clearly enjoyed it. She seemed almost to need it. He was lost in the moment. He could neither remember how it was he came to be here, or where here was. In his mind, there was no time before this moment, there were no thoughts of what would come after. There was no such thing as time at all. His thoughts were intangible at best: a jumbled list of instructions coming from some instinctual source, carried out by a body no longer in his control. His heart was a drum, pounding out blood at a hectic pace. It was as if he were watching from above, his departed soul staring down at the top of her tussled head of hair, rising and falling to their perfect rhythm. All his faculties were focused on touch, as if his future depended upon following the patterns of this dance to the step. Sex had never felt like this before. Suddenly it was all terribly important. Suddenly life was important. Life, death, God. All real and important. He felt his hands play her skin like a Tom Waits piano piece: evil, dark, and heavy, rolling rhythm and pounding out muted harmonies. Rising and falling around him, the walls of the room seemed to be moving in and out like living tissue. Their love was a cancer and this moment, the death throws....

The Red Train

He had been under her spell from the very beginning; since he first saw her waiting for the southbound, express, red-line train. He was across the tracks, waiting for the north-bound brown line, impatiently smoking his fourth straight Camel Filter. There were razors where his finger bones should be, and his skin felt bloody and broken. There was a rheumatoid, palsied shaking in whichever hand was exposed to the elements of the harsh city night as the cold wind blew free newspapers all around his equally frozen feet. No one had read them. The bums had moved indoors to hide from the cold and so their trash mattresses with inky sheets had been abandoned. They were always blowing about on nights like this. It was one of those freezing moments that always spurred the smokers chicken and egg debate: Do these cigarettes comfort me from the cold? Or am I cold because of these cigarettes?
So there he was, near bleeding from the slicing stabs of midtown wind, when he saw her. He immediately appreciated the evil in her duality... the grace in her harsh posture. Everything about her seemed to be a contradiction. He was told she would be tiger, but she appeared as a pale kitten. He knew he would meet her, but he had no idea that she was who he was meeting. This was where he was told she would be. That was what her hair was supposed to look like. Those were her one of a kind Starry Night Converse kicks. Most importantly, that was the red and yellow backpack she carried everywhere. The bright red, hammer and sickle Jansport that would be his ultimate goal... Like the shoes, it was a one of a kind. He had been told that she covered as an art student but never actually attended class. The look she had fashioned for herself was a cover. She was beautiful, yes, but she was also dangerous. Thats what Perry had told him. Perry had never lied to him and yet her appearance almost overwhelmed him. He could tell that the average guy would be afraid to approach her sober. He had his doubt that he would have been able to himself if circumstances were different. Her costume worked well, and she knew it. It was written all over her. She wasnt even looking to see if she were being watched. She was used to being nonexistent in this city of black leather and colored hair. Oddly enough, it was her purples and reds that made her inconspicuous. Huxley wondered why everything always had to be backwards in this fucking city as he threw his cigarette and ran down the steps.
The street traffic was deadlocked so he easily navigated his way across it and up the steps for the red train. At the halfway mark he slowed and changed his pace to suit his character. He was now an art student as well. He was charming, he was talented, and he was fun. He repeated that as a mantra for a moment to gain courage. Her purple hair protruded above the top step. It was pretty in a way, he thought. Dont think so much about the girl, he reminded himself. You are here to find out about that backpack, you are not here for her. The eccentric red held something important. He didnt know what. And he would probably never find out. He was only here to do some reconnaissance. Practice, they called it. A dry run.

Silence and a Good Porter

He walked up next to her and made a coughing sound. Flashing his most confident smile, he said Hi.
What? replied the girl with the purple hair.
I said hi. Hello.
I know. she replied, pausing before repeating What?
He laughed nervously and assured he wasnt hitting on her.
Really? Cuz It seemed like you were. I mean I was just sitting here mi-
Standing, he corrected.
What? she said.
He laughed, trying to sound as confident as he possibly could. She was completely eroding his nerve. Youre standing babe. Not sitting...
She laughed for the first time and said, So I am. So I am. Her eyes flashed. It made him feel warm. Bad, bad, he thought. Scolding himself like a dog.
After a brief moment of silence, all humor left her face, and she repeated her question, What do you want?
Huxley knew he only had one chance. It all depended on this moment. He told himself that she was crumbling, smiled, and said, Well, honestly?
She laughed again and answered in a mocking tone. Oh no, please, please lie to me. I love it when men lie.
Do you now? he responded. Well I guess you settled in the right town huh? He flashed another smile at her and she briefly smiled in response but her serious look told him that she still didnt trust him. Well actually, I was about to hop onto the southbound train to get myself a beer
Well, she said, the southbound is over there. She whispered the last bit, as if it were a secret.
So it is, he replied with his own touch of the ironic. Anyways, I was standing there wondering where I should go because I want to be left alone, especially tonight. And... well, doesnt it seem like this time of year makes everyone desperate for communication?
She leapt at the chance to mock him. Wow, you know... I had never noticed.. Good he told himself, keep involving her.. She had to feel like she was a part of the dialogue, thats what Perry told him. If he started soliloquizing at her, she would get suspicious.
Look, he said, here is the thing. I hate it. I dont care about peoples successes or their failures. I hate sports. I dont like the movies that people generally like and I pretty much hate the idea that contact with another human can fill any kind of void in a persons life.
Umm, she replied while I couldnt agree more... what does that have to do with me?
No matter what you have been told, he lied everything isnt about you. In this case its about me. See, sitting alone is an invitation. I really like being alone. And I would especially love a moment to myself tonight. I get sick of drinking in my living room, I like the atmosphere of bars, the ambience, the texture... but I just prefer being left alone and the only way to ensure I am is to make myself off-limits, you know? Thats where you come in.
Youre assuming I care. she said. Even more than that your whole speech makes you just li-
No Im not, and no it doesnt. Let me finish he responded with force. What Im assuming is that you are just like me. Im assuming you want to be left the fuck alone and Im assuming that this five minutes of awkwardness is necessary for us to get what we want.
She seemed almost insulted by his approach and yet it was so novel that she was clearly intrigued to see where he was going with it. She asked him What makes you so much better than everyone else, that you can just... decide... that you can... dictate whether or not they can talk to you? That you can decide you can talk to me?
He answered her question with a question. Do you smoke?
On occasion. she answered, obviously puzzled. Why?
He paused to light his Camel Filter before continuing to explain. Well, let me ask you one more question. She stared back, non-committal, waiting for his catch. What am I holding here in my right hand?
A white lighter? She answered dryly.
And thats all?
She faked a smile and tilted her head, Thats all I see.
Well that, my dear, is exactly what it is. And that is why you are qualified to talk to me. You see the world as it is. Before you arrived, this fucking kid walked up to me and asked for a light because as we all know the only greater invitation for a discussion than being alone at a bar, is smoking alone in public. As if $5.89 a pack doesnt include enough sin taxes, or sales taxes, I also have to pay this unquantifiable, yet omnipresent, conversation tax. He twirled the cigarette around for effect as he continued, So this kid walks up to me and asks for a light. I had at least ten minutes until the train arrived, so I obliged him. Or started to rather, before he noticed that I was carrying a white lighter. Oh no, he said in horror I cant use a white lighter. Its bad luck.
Bad luck? I say.
Oh yeah, he replied. As though he was as sure of the lighters jinx as he was of his last name. He looked me right square in the eyes and said Youre god damn right it is. I never use white lighters man. Its Bad, bad, bad luck. Jesus, didnt you know that? You should toss that thing. he said as if doing me a favor, as if I were carrying a time bomb in my pocket
I couldnt help it. I laughed at him. I pulled my face within about three inches of his own and I laughed as loudly as I could. Bad Luck? I shrieked as I waved my cigarettes in his face We got these, buddy. We dont need luck anymore, we know whats coming to us. Cancer. Death. Emphysema. You chose bad luck when you bought those. It really doesnt matter how white your lighter is if your lungs are black as coal. Bad luck? Try running up a few flights of steps if you want an omen... I just walked away from him in disgust as he tried to think of a come back, staring at me in shock. I suppose he was expecting some human connection, some justification for his silly views.
But I knew if I had agreed, if I had bought into his silly white lighter theory or even produced
a similar tale of blue or red or even black lighter doom, if I had done that than I would have validated his entire existence. I would have made his lie of a life seem like the gospel. See, were all crazy that way. Crazy and desperate. It seems like we can believe any crazy shit we want and all we need to make it a law of physics is some other idiot to agree with us. For that moment in time, we would be invariably right. And while I have always hated the lighter superstitions, and the finger crossing through tunnels and over bridges, and salt thrown over shoulders, while I have always hated the silly shit that silly people have said to me, it has never been what they said that bothered me, but that they expected me to validate it. I dont know you buddy, and I dont care. I dont want to be anyones savior.
He paused for effect before making his final point. She hadnt spoken yet, she was waiting to see where this was going. And that, he said that is the difference between them and me. I dont come to you seeking validation. I come to you offering freedom from that mundane task. I come to you saying I wont bug you, as long as you dont bug me. And we can finally know what it is like after all these years to have a drink in this god forsaken city without interruption. Without even the fear of interruption. Its hard to be alone amongst this sprawl. Truly alone. I want to feel it, I want to validate my own existence . I just need one good night of isolation. What about you? Dont tell me you are any different. Dont you want a chance to breathe? To get drunk and not worry about being asked to dance, or stalked on the walk home? Well dont you?
This time she was the one who answered a question with a question Where to? she asked. Something in his brain clicked, I can do this he thought. I know I can.
He smiled coyly. Where evers closest. This vacation is long over due....
They platonically locked arms in a symbolic gesture and the line for the train parted as they walked down the platform. Two very visible souls made invisible by pretending to share ownership. The bar was only three few blocks away. Both tried hard to feign hardness, but the moment felt undeniably tender to Huxley. He cursed himself for getting too close. She cursed herself for letting him.
I wasnt supposed to like her, he thought. I wasnt supposed to go on and on like that either. It was too honest. If you believe too many of your lies, he warned himself, its easy to forget youre lying. Why didnt Perry tell me she was this pretty? No, he thought. Shut up. Just do your job. Do your job, Huxley and there will be a whole world of pretty girls waiting for you. As they opened the door to the bar, he caught her smiling curiously at him. He wondered if she was just playing the part, but he knew it didnt matter. He liked it, and he knew that meant trouble.

Mission Accomplished

He reported back to Perry the next day that he had made contact. He told him what little he was sent to find out. She wasnt planning on leaving the city any time soon and she was actually attending class now. He told Perry that the backpack would be no problem. I can get it. I know it. Tomorrow if you want.
No. Perry replied. Stay away from her. I want to get it myself. I just wanted to know if she had any plans to run. Ill be out of town for a few more days, so just stay put. Perry paused breifly, he thought he saw someone outside his hotel, but it was just a cat. Relieved he went on asking Huxley about the girl. So she never caught on that I sent you?
No sir. I think she liked me. Or at least who I pretended to be he added, knowing he hadnt pretended at all.
Hux, Perry said, good work. Im proud of you. You really are coming along. Now... I will be back on Friday so...
Stay away?
Right. When I get back I have a present for you. You just graduated.
Huxley wondered if Perry had hung up. The phone lay silent for a minute before he heard Perry sigh deeply and hang up the phone. He had never heard him sound that human and vulnerable before. I wonder what that was all about, he thought as he hung up the phone.
The phone seemed to stare at him as he started his daily exercise routine. He covered it with his sweaty t-shirt as he continued. Remember, he thought, how lucky you are to have met Perry. Youre done with the girl. He said dont call, so you wont.
After another hour of lying to himself and rotating sets of free weights Huxley wiped the sweat off his face with the T-shirt and picked up the phone with a sigh.

1 Missed Call

Three dates later Huxley left the bar hand in hand with the purple haired girl on the way to her apartment on Market street.
You planned this. She charged coyly.
I most certainly did not. he replied in a shocked tone I just saw you and thought hey, there is a girl that doesnt need a guy like me. Shell be perfect. I had no idea your standards were so low. I figured it was safe.
Oh, really? she laughed. And who said I liked you? I could be taking you back to my flat to kill you. Had you even considered that?
He jokingly answered that A man can dream.
She punched him and then snuggled up to his arm for a second. He loved when she got cute like that, but some times.... when she didnt seem to know that he was looking.. . he still saw poison in her eyes and it made him shiver. It managed to sober him up every single time he glimpsed that viciousness in her. His hands felt cold again and he stopped to light a cigarette.
So... You never finished your story. she said.
Oh come on, I dont even want to think about it...
No, I want to know. What happened?
Its really not exciting. I swear.
Tell me or Im not letting you come upstairs. Really though, you have to finish your story... I want to know.
Its not a big deal.
Do it!
Ok, he sighed. So after class we-
We?She interrupted
Why does it matter? You dont know any of my friends. Dont worry so much about details. Anyways, we went to the liquor store to grab a few beers and I thought I saw my ex-girlfriend in the car next to us. I stared for a minute, but she never looked up. So I just went inside and tried not to think about it. My hair looked different. I forgot. And I had a new car, which I also forgot. So it made sense that she hadnt recognized me. Anyways, there I was checking out the prices for Sierra Nevada Stout when she poked me in the side. I started to-
Mmm Sierra Nevada... She interrupted yet again.
Look. I dont even want to tell this story so quit quipping.
Say that fast ten times, I dare you. She laughed.
Im serious. Shut up. He paused, but he couldnt resist the temptation to try to get through ten quit quippings. He managed two and a half. She laughed again and he went on, smiling this time. Ok, so I started to yell at Andy, that was the guy who came with me, and there she was. Vera Ann Haskill. Impossible to ignore. Decked out in full party gear and looking better than I had ever dreamed she could. Dont get me wrong...she had always been attractive but suddenly she was perfect. My knees fell out from under me and I hinted that I had nothing to do tonight..
What did she say?
She just giggled that, that sounded sad. She was on her way to a party and her new boyfriend Wes was going to be there. He was a senior pre-med student from Taiwan. I hated him immediately. And then she kissed me on the cheek and said good night.
The purple haired girl said That was sweet of her. You know, I dont really see what was so weird about your day.
No. Im not finished. It wasnt sweet. It was evil, and it was no innocent peck. She held her lips there for at least thirty seconds and ... his voice trailed off as he searched for the right way to vocalize the event. And, she...
Damnit, Hux. She what?
Huxley answered pitifully that he swore he felt tongue...
Her laughter was cacophonous. It echoed through the streets, through the opened door, and up the stair way to her apartment. On your cheek? What? Thats not sexy.. Thats.. thats just weird. Seriously.
Maybe, like, by itself that wouldve been weird but... It was as if she knew what kind of state I was in. I mean Im glad I found someone to be alone with and all, he said as he squeezed her hand but I hadnt felt a foreign tongue in so long...She knew what she was doing and-
Then the girl with the purple hair pounced. It caught him off guard. He honestly thought he was fucking up to talk about his ex. Even if the encounter had obviously ruined his mood. Even if she had been bugging him all night to know why he wasnt his usual self possessed ummm... self. And even if the story was hilarious in a way. He had just known it was a mistake to tell her, and yet suddenly her tongue was buried in his throat and her hand was firmly grasping his right hip bone, thumb buried in the skin just inside its protrusion. Maybe I should tell that story more often, he thought before the combination of a rush of endorphin to and a rush of blood from his brain made thoughts difficult.
They fell up the steps in a violent manner; kissing each other with passion neither could explain. Its nothing personal, he thought, Im just here to prove I can get that backpack myself.
The stair way had been painted lime green sometime in the early 60's, and the peeling remainder of that decorating mistake was a lead laden health hazard. They peeled off ever more of it as they threw each other from wall to wall in their lust filled struggle for control.
Suddenly Huxleys cell phone began to ring. He didnt care who it was, he wasnt going to answer. She took it a step further reaching into his dickies jacket, looking at the number, and throwing the flip phone down the stairwell. For a moment, time seemed to stop and it seemed as if the air around his new girlfriend froze. He was about to ask what was wrong when she kissed him again, this time more violently.
They could hear the phone beeping as they closed the door. He was too caught up in the moment to wonder if the call might have beeen important. They undressed each other as they passed her tiny kitchen. Their constant motion had been bringing them to this one destination, two people wrapped up awkwardly like an injured bird hopping for safety. Their nest awaited.
A door opened, a bed squeaked in response to added weight, and necks turned red from teeth and fingers. Huxley was overwhelmed by the taste of her. Bare legs wrapped around his back as fierce but delicate hands pulled hard at his hair from behind. She was clawing at him savagely, as if in anger yet she clearly enjoyed it. He was lost in the moment. He could neither remember how it was he came to be here, or where here was. In his mind, there was no time before this moment, there were no thoughts of what would come after. There was no such thing as time at all. His only thoughts repeated themselves like a skipping record. They were intangible at best, just a list of instructions that came from some instinctual source and were carried out by a body no longer in his control. His heart was a drum, pounding out blood at a hectic pace. It was almost as if he were watching from above, staring down at the top of her tussled head of hair, rising and falling to her own rhythm. All his faculties focused on touch, as if his future depended upon following the patterns of this dance to the step. Sex had never felt like this before. Suddenly it was all terribly important. He felt his hands play her skin like a Tom Waits piano piece: evil, dark, and heavy, rolling rhythm and pounding out muted harmonies. Rising and falling around him, the walls of the room seemed to be moving in and out like living tissue. Their love was a cancer and this moment, the death throws....

The Clean Up.

Soon after they finished she excused herself to clean up. For the first minute she was in the bathroom all she could do was choke back tears as she prepared herself for what she had to do next. A metallic screwing sound broke the silence before ending in a click.
Huxley took the moment upon himself to search for her red bag but she had brought it with her in to the bathroom. He wondered what it was she had in there and if it was worth losing the feeling he had just experienced. He even considered blowing his cover. Maybe this job wasnt enough to throw away a girl like this.. Maybe this is the start of the new life I have been wanting..
The phone was still beeping in the door way as homeless man named Jerry stooped to pick it up. Homeless Jerry couldnt help it. He loved eavesdropping. He looked once more for the phones owner... and pressed Send so he could hear the voice-mail. The aged voice on the other end was yelling. Hux! God damnit! I told you to stay put. Jimmy said he saw you with her the last two nights in a row. Shes out of your league kid. You arent ready to engage a target like her alone yet. Fuck, I told you I would handle it. I hope to god you arent with her now. She... God damnit, dont you realize that shes - Jerrys head jerked away from the phone as he heard the unmistakable thud of a door being kicked open.
Silencer in place the girl with the purple hair stood in the opened door way and shot Huxley six times in the chest and once in the head. It broke her heart to do it. She had really liked him but she had no choice. She had recognized that phone number. And she knew why he was here. There was no way she was going back to work for him. She was through with that bullshit. It was time to take control of her life. It was a shame that a kid like that had to get caught up in all of this, she thought as she looked down on poor little Hux, but that was just how things worked. A tear ran down her right cheek as she thought about how beautiful his naivete could be. He was cute, especially when he tried to act tough, but he was in way over his head in this world. God damnit, she thought.
This world. Im still in it.
It seemed that if she wanted to escape her past she was going to have to confront it head on. She said good bye to her apartment and to Huxley, and reloaded the guns that had been given as a graduation present. Jerry moved quickly out of her way as she ran down the steps with two guns, 50,000 dollars, and a change of clothes in her communist back pack... He had been on the street long enough to know to avoid anyone with eyes that cold.

No Time for Talking.

Across town a middle aged man named Perry squirmed uncomfortably in a blue business suit. He had tried again and again to reach his stubborn new protege on the phone. Sweat poured down his cheek as he lowered his head to his dimly lit desk top. Huxley had never missed a call before, he thought as the whiskey slid down his throat. Somethings wrong.
Perry put out his cigarette, poured another shot, and glanced one last time at the picture on his desk. It was a smiling portrait of him and a beautiful young girl. He put the picture in the bottom desk drawer and walked across the room. This was no time to think about family.
He opened the filing cabinet that held Huxleys new pistols and began to load his own trusty Saturday night special. All things considered he preferred that little .38 caliber to any gun in the world. And all things considered, he thought, if I have to go down tonight Im glad that-
Perrys thought was interrupted by the familiar sound of a door being kicked open. He didnt even have time to tighten his grip around the pistols rubber handle before six freight trains slammed silently into his chest. A final shot went straight through his eyes, ensuring he would never finish his musings.

The Girl in the Picture.

The old man continued to ooze dark red blood long after life left him and after ten minutes of crying she had been completely covered in it. She felt like a little girl again; five years old and mourning her first kill. Except he wasnt here to comfort her anymore. He wasnt here to reassure her. Shivering with guilt she kissed his forehead and walked to the bathroom to change.
Before she set the trash can full of bloody clothes on fire, she said a prayer for her future, for her sins, and for her fathers soul. She took one last look at him, slumped on the floor, as she pulled on her leather jacket, pulled off her purple wig, and walked out the door.