Track 44: One-Eyed Dogs & Silver Linings

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height




Misery Loves Company

By: theinkslignerr

Track 44: One-Eyed Dogs & Silver Linings


"Paula?" It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. "You don't talk to Paula."

Throughout my entire friendship with Enid, I'd only seen my mom talk to Paula once.
That's why I was surprised when she'd signed the contract for Misery Loves Company simply because Paula's name was on it too. I didn't think she cared enough to remember who my best friend was— much less her mother.

Apparently, I was wrong.

I looked down at my hands. When I was nine, it had snowed and schools closed down. My mom was stuck at the hospital, because other nurses couldn't get there to relieve her. I'd gone out to play without any gloves, because no one had been there to make me wear them. By the time she got home I was in the kitchen crying, my palms red with superficial frostbite. Most people associated the word "burn" with heat and fire, but that day my hands truly did burn. It was a cold, blistering sensation I could feel right down to my bones. Growing up, I'd never forgotten it, because it felt the same as my mother's apathy.

Now she was trying to become involved at the worst possible time. There was a special place in an Alanis Morissette song for this.

I looked back up to see my mom hoist her utilitarian tote bag higher on her shoulder. She was wearing street clothes, so the bag probably contained scrubs and crocs. "Oh, Paula and I check in. And tonight we had a lot to catch up on." She examined Rocco closely, gaze lingering on his injured arm before examining me. She probably thought we were in a fight club or something. "Not too long ago, I thought I had a dream. In the dream I was on the couch and you walked in and said—"

"Rocco's hurt!" I interrupted, eyes wide. I knew exactly what dream she was referring to— except it wasn't a dream. The evening in question was when I'd caught Enid throwing up and she threatened to upload the picture she'd snapped of me and Rocco. I'd trudged home to find my mom asleep on the couch and vented as I removed her stinky crocs. I'd done it because I thought she was sleeping, dead to the world after one of her long shifts. But she must've been half awake; conscious enough to register me saying the girl she thought was my best friend was bulimic and blackmailing me.

I didn't want Rocco to hear a word of it. Not tonight. We'd been through the ringer, and had taken both emotional and physical hits. "He's hurt," I repeated. "And he's got a long drive ahead of him. Can we talk later?"

"No one's stopping him from leaving. It's you I want to talk to."

"Mom—"

"My first mistake was signing that contract and my second was trusting that sleazy manager and PR rep. They don't care about what happens to you."

For a while there, I thought that was something you three had in common.

"And neither does he," she continued, turning on Rocco. So much for her only wanting to talk to me. "I get it. You're young, you're famous, and after a while the groupies get a little stale. But that doesn't mean you can prey on my daughter. I won't—"

"We're not even together!" I cried.

Rocco stiffened, hazel eyes surprised as he stared at me. I felt bad for saying it, but it was the truth. In my head sometimes I slipped up and called him my boyfriend, but that didn't mean he was. We hadn't talked about what we were to each other or exactly what would happen after the web show.

"Really?" My mom didn't look convinced. "Then why did you tell me Enid has a pi—"

Loud sirens drowned out the rest of her words as four ambulances sped by. The nurse behind the check-in desk who'd been watching our little exchange with interest while eating chips, perked up and put them down. Another one burst out of the door behind her and scanned the waiting area.

"Irene? When are you supposed to clock in?"

My mom had to drag her eyes away from me and Rocco. "Twenty minutes."

"Do you mind clocking in now? Linda called out and we just got four hits. Big car crash. Looks bad!"

She frowned, torn between her job and me. Like always, she chose the job. "I'll be there in a second." To Rocco, she said, "I want you to take my daughter straight home and then leave. You look a little pale, so I wouldn't recommend a long drive, but that's not an invitation to stay at my house. I'm sure you can afford a nice hotel." My instructions followed. "I want to talk to you tomorrow morning before school. I'll come home during one of my breaks."

When I didn't respond, she fixed me with a withering glare until I nodded. Before my mom went through the employees' entrance with her frazzled co-worker, she said one last thing. "I know it wasn't a dream, Misery. We're going to get down to the bottom of this."

I held back a groan. My brain felt like it was filled with cotton and the bright waiting room lights were starting to get to me. Most of the things I'd been trying to balance or hide were now coming to light. My two worlds were colliding. I expected Rocco to ask why my mom brought up Enid since he knew something was going on between us, but he just said, "Let's go." His face was harder than granite.

This time he climbed into the driver's seat, and there was no discussion about it. "My mom's right about one thing. You shouldn't drive back to New York tonight," I pleaded softly.

"Can you put your seatbelt on," he grumbled, starting the car and peeling out of the parking lot one-handed.

With a sigh, I buckled up. The atmosphere was worse now than on the drive back from Lakeside, but I was too exhausted to fix it. I was too exhausted to try. What was the point of anything I did? By now, Paula had probably confronted Enid about the things my mom told her just like my mom had confronted me. The picture of Rocco and I kissing was probably all over the internet. Take two, I thought bitterly. When the accusations of me being passed around Blue Vendetta started up again, I'd have no leg to stand on, and no PR stunt Winona Springsteen cooked up would save me.

I wasn't looking forward to being interrogated by my mom tomorrow morning either.

"Can you make this left?" I asked suddenly.

"Your house is straight ahead," Rocco countered.

"We're not going to my house."

~~~

Fifteen minutes later, Rocco was idling in front of Sienna's house. "I'm glad we're giving your mom more reasons to dislike me."

"Sienna's expecting me," I said.

Actually, she didn't know I was outside of her house past midnight on a week day. If her parents knew I was here, they'd probably make her unfriend me. But I had no other options. I didn't want to go home in case Enid came looking for me and I didn't want to talk to my mom. I wanted to talk to Sienna. If anything, I knew she'd have advice I could use. Or at least calm me down.

"Are you forgetting I was standing there when your mom said she wanted to talk to you tomorrow? You're trying to get out of it." Rocco was speaking to me, but staring through the windshield.

"Fine, I'm trying to get out of it!" I slid out of the car, fatigued from everything that had happened tonight. I glanced at Rocco's tense profile and injured arm, and something in my heart loosened. "Thanks for dropping me off. And...sorry for everything."

"Right." He finally turned to look at me, jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. It looked like he wanted to ask me something, but eventually settled on, "Talk to your mom at some point. OK?"

Stubbornness wanted to rear its ugly head again, but I remembered Rocco's situation and why he'd potentially feel guilty for helping me disobey my mom. His dad was dead and his mom's identity was a mystery, but here I was refusing to talk to mine because it'd be uncomfortable.

It was easy to forget not everybody had that luxury.

"OK," I agreed.

He managed a short, jerky nod and waited for me to close the door.

"Bye," I said through the glass of the window.

His eyes flickered down then back up, and when he spoke it was so low I couldn't make out the words.

After he drove away, I stood there until the Range Rover's tail lights disappeared.

I'd never been good at reading lips, but I was pretty sure I'd just gotten more than a goodbye.

When I called Sienna, she picked up on the fifth ring, her voice heavy with sleep. "If you're calling me to help you hide a body then all I ask is that you at least provide the coffee."

"The good news is the only body that needs hiding is mine. I'm uh...outside your house."

Five minutes later, Sienna and I were tip-toeing up the stairs.

"Watch the next one. It creaks," she whispered.

I skipped it, and soon we were in her room. When she closed the door and hit the lights, I wasn't surprised to find that it was as warm and earthy as she was. The walls were a deep amber, broken up by posters and traditional artwork from different continents. There was a big desk in the corner stacked with mannequin heads, packs of extensions, and hair products. A drawer stuck out of it, unable to close because more mannequin heads were jammed inside.

"You have a scary amount of those," I said.

"Nonsense. You can never have too many mannequin heads." She paused, then admitted, "Sometimes they scare me when I get up to use the bathroom."

I giggled, continuing to look around. Her taste in music was even more eclectic than mine, so her posters spanned many genres. From Esperanza Spalding to At the Drive-in, it was all there. I looked closer— so was Blue Vendetta! The large poster had a prominent spot over Sienna's bed, and featured each member with their weapon of choice. Dom with his drumsticks, Eli with Sweet Geraldine, Rocco with his guitar (aka Coretta) and Jae with the vintage mic he often used. The chord was wrapped all the way up his forearm and his face was...covered with a poop emoji sticker.

Sienna followed my gaze to it and mumbled, "So, yeah. I did that after New York and now if I try to take the sticker off it'll mess up the whole poster." She shrugged and I grinned proudly. I guess no matter how mature she was, we were still the same age. It made me feel better about some of the brattier thoughts I'd had earlier today.

"Thanks for letting me stay over."

"What— was I supposed to let you sleep outside?" She was wearing a soft looking t-shirt with tribal print and short-shorts. "I love the idea of a spontaneous sleepover, but...is that all this is? Because if my parents wake up, you'll be helping them hide my body. Actually, just my mom. She'd kill me for sneaking a friend into the house on a school night, then my dad for going easy on me."

I plopped down at her desk and pushed a mannequin head aside. "Uh...you might need that coffee after all..."

"OK. Want any?"

I said no to the coffee, but yes to hot chocolate. That turned out to be a good idea, because it soothed my nerves as I told Sienna everything from catching Enid over the toilet and the subsequent blackmail to finally meeting Rocco's grandparents and finding out who his dad was. I felt a little guilty telling her all of the gory details, but once I started I couldn't stop. It felt like getting a crick out of my neck or a virus out of my system. Plus I knew she wouldn't tell anyone.

When I was done, she stared at me, her empty mug hanging loosely from one hand. She stood up abruptly. "I think I'm gonna need another cup."

After returning with more coffee, she sat on her bed, deep in thought. "I don't— where do I begin?"

"Sorry for the info dump," I said. "But I'm kind of freaking out."

"I can't believe Enid's been making herself throw up! I noticed the weight loss, but I thought she was dieting for the show. My mind didn't even go there." Sienna had stopped talking to Enid when she accused us of being jealous co-conspirators, but that didn't stop worry and guilt from blooming across her face. "I can't believe I didn't notice something was wrong."

"I'm not sure if it's a recent thing or if she's always struggled with it. I tried to think back to any warning signs, but nothing specific comes to mind. She's been a stress-eater for as long as I've known her."

Sienna sipped her coffee, anger mingling with the worry. "I know it's taboo to be pissed at someone who's sick, but how long has she been blackmailing you to keep her secret? Why would she take that pic of you and Rocco in the first place?"

"I don't know, and it sounded like she didn't either. She told me she was actually planning on deleting it the day I caught her throwing up. Well, thank god she didn't. What would she have done with no leverage?" I explained dryly.

"You need to warn Rocco. And tell Paula what Enid's up to."

"My mom may have already done that, remember? The picture's probably all over the internet. Skanknado— the sequel."

Sienna frowned. "This is serious, Miz."

I knew that, but if I didn't make jokes I'd have another panic attack.

She placed her mug of coffee on the bedside table, unplugged her phone from its charger, and did a quick social media scan.

I studied her face, trying to determine what she'd say based on her expression.

She paused and looked up.

"You're clear."

I was so relieved, I grabbed a mannequin head and hugged it. The styrofoam squeaked in my arms.

"She could be bluffing, you know. I really don't want to believe she'd do that to you. Especially after seeing how people acted when the pic with Dom went viral."

Oh, Sienna. Ever the optimist. "I wouldn't put anything past Enid at this point. I can't afford to."

Sienna heaved a sigh. "If she does post the pic or Rocco finds out some other way and realizes you knew, he's probably going to be upset."

Not probably— he would be. I'd told him not to worry about what Enid was up to so many times.

"I'll tell him...when he hasn't spent the day wiping my snot, dealing with his grandparents, and fracturing an arm," I mumbled, picking at the mannequin. It was a fruitless task when you didn't have any nails, but I needed to focus on something instead of the whirling tornado inside my head.

Sienna shook hers, still in mild shock. "I'm glad his arm's not broken. A golf club? That's wild. Wild. And he's the spawn of Niccolo Segreti? How does that work? How does the internet not know this?"

"Well, the resemblance isn't there unless you look closely. Niccolo looks like Soren, and Rocco looks more like his grandmother. I'm thinking they all went through a lot to keep it hush-hush," I theorized.

"True...and he does go by a different last name. Where'd Alden come from?"

"No idea, but you should've seen the look on his face when his grandpa was yelling at him. He just stood there and took it for the most part. He stood there and took the blame for his dad's mistakes when he was the one they hurt the most."

Sienna flopped back on her bed and stared at the ceiling. An abstract yellow sun was painted on it. "I would've never guessed, but now that I know it makes so much sense. Rocco's playing really reminds me of Niccolo's sometimes. And the smile. They have the same smile."

"He wrote 27 Club for him, Sienna."

"Ugh. My heart." She squeezed her eyes shut. "All of this and he's still so...easygoing and sweet. And thoughtful. At times, it's like he doesn't have a care in the world."

I felt hollow just thinking about it. Rocco's innate cheerfulness, love of mischief, and confidence drew people to him, but could also make him seem privileged. Like life had been fair to him despite penning a song about underdogs. He was good-looking, talented, and successful. How could someone like that be an underdog? What did he possibly have to worry about?

A lot.

He'd been abandoned; first by his mom then dad, and broken— maybe into smaller pieces than anyone I knew. But behind the scenes when no one was watching, he picked up those pieces and glued them back together. To the rest of us he looked shiny and whole, but today at his grandparent's house, then later at the hospital, I could see the cracks and the dried glue in-between the crevices.

"Remember how defensive Ji-Hyun got when we were driving up to New York and I brought up how similar BV and Hazmat sounded?" Sienna asked.

"Yeah, it was because she knew. They all knew," I replied hoarsely. "I don't know how to feel about anything anymore. My mom's all over me, which is hilarious, because it's all I've ever wanted, but the timing is problematic. I have no idea what Paula said to her and I don't think I want to. Then I've got Enid to worry about..." I picked at my cuticles. "I'm just starting to feel like I'm strapped into one of those medieval torture devices that stretch and stretch you until your limbs pop off."

Sienna sat up, her face filled with worry. "At least the web show will be over soon. That'll be one less thing to stress over."

"I thought so too. For the longest time, I couldn't wait for Misery Loves Company to be over. I was counting down the days. But now..." I took a shaky breath. "Now I don't want it to end, because I'm afraid I'll never see Rocco again!"

Within seconds Sienna had her arms around me, the mannequin head squeaking between us as I held back tears.

"You've had a rough day," she murmured, rubbing my back. "Why don't you get some sleep? I can give you stuff to wear."

"What about you?" I sniffed. There was no way she'd be able to sleep after all that caffeine.

"Gonna spend a little time with my best friend YouTube. Well...second best friend, after you."

A smile spread across my face even as a few tears escaped. It was the silver lining around a dark cloud day.

~~~

The next morning Sienna and I overslept. I didn't remember what time we'd gone to bed, but neither of us heard the alarm go off.

Throughout the night, my sleep had been interrupted by dreams of flying golf clubs, hostile fans, and Niccolo Segreti's lifeless corpse in a rundown apartment. When my eyes snapped open for the last time, Sienna was staring at me, clearly concerned.

"You were tossing and turning all night. And yelling," she said.

I told her about the nightmares as we schlepped downstairs for breakfast. Her parents always left for work before she left for school, so thankfully I didn't have to explain myself to them. I still managed to feel like a bad influence though.

"Sorry for making you skip." And to think I'd been afraid of skipping school mere months ago.

"I'm not exactly a truancy virgin," Sienna replied through a mouthful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

I laughed. "Well, thanks again for letting me spend the night. My mom's blowing up my phone. She's furious I'm not home to hash things out."

"You can just do it tonight."

It was hard to keep the relieved smile off my face. "She'll be back at work." My phone vibrated with another text, reminding me of something else I should probably do. "Should I...should I check Instagram to see if Enid has..."

"I'll do it." Sienna retrieved her phone and did another social media sweep. "Still clear."

I was surprised. Maybe Enid really was bluffing. Or maybe she was coming up with an elaborate plan to completely ruin me while I sat here wolfing down cereal. "Do you think I should text her?"

Sienna thought about it for

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net