Be My Bad Boy

When I woke up the next morning, I had no idea where I was. The sun streamed in the window breaking my head in two. If I put my head back under the covers, it would all go away. I grabbed the pillow and put my head under the blanket. It smelt good. Lemony and spicy. I could stay there in that lemony, spicy cocoon forever and I'd not have to face anything.
I could hear banging from somewhere out there, like someone cooking. I wanted a glass of water but I couldn't think of a way of getting it without anyone seeing me. Bits of the night before raced back into my head, although I tried to push them away.

I edged my foot out of the bed then realised I was naked.
What the hell had happened? I'd passed out and now I was naked? And where were my clothes? I'd be a prisoner in this room until someone came to dress me. Maybe that was their plan – they'd plied me with alcohol and drugs then taken advantage of me and maybe intended hold me to ransom or least try to get out of the contract. It hurt my head just to think about that.
Then I heard a knock at the door.

Was there anywhere in the room I could hide? The wardrobe. No. Not the wardrobe.
"Want a cup of tea?"
It was Jinxx.
"I guess." I couldn't hide there forever and I'd rather face Jinxx than Andy any time. I pulled the sheet up tight under my chin but heard him walk away.

I sat up and arranged the blanket to make sure I was fully covered. My eyes had de-blurred enough so that I could focus on my surroundings. Rock posters covered the walls, a few of them curling off at the edges where they'd started to unstick. A bunch of guitar magazines and old pizza boxes surrounded the bed. Clothes piled out of the wardrobe onto the floor, mostly t-shirts and jeans but I could see an expensive-looking leather jacket hanging up and those biker boots didn't come cheap either. I assumed this was Jinxx's room since he was the one making tea but that didn't seem like the sort of stuff he'd have laying around. And somehow, he seemed like he’d be much neater.

Jinxx knocked again and walked in with the cup of tea.
"Wow, you look… well, you'll feel better after this."
He sat on the edge of my bed.
"Umm, Jinxx.. do you know where my clothes are?" I kind of choked the words out. Is there are classy or elegant way to ask where your clothes have disappeared to after a night of drinking? If there is, I don't know it.

"I'll bring them up for you. They are in the dryer. You kinda… well, you were sick last night…”
“You put my dress in the dryer?" I jumped then realised my boob was showing. I quickly pulled up the blanket. "That dress is dry clean only. It's pure linen. It'll be wrecked."
"I'm sorry. I thought it'd be best to wash it straight away…" Jinxx covered his mouth and looked so upset, of course I couldn't be angry.

"That's okay. You didn't know. And at least it's clean now, right. I need something to wear home."
He smiled.
"Did I really throw up? That's so gross." I picked up my cup and sipped the tea.
He nodded.
"On myself? Please tell me it was just on myself and that I didn't throw up everywhere. Oh God."
He didn't meet my eyes. I'd obviously made a big vomitty mess and he'd had to clean it up. Then I remembered. The boot. Oh, hells no.
"I'm so sorry. You must hate me. And you even put me to bed after that and let me sleep here."
"It's not my bed. And it wasn't me…"

I’d meant to act like a dingbat not a teenage girl on her first bender.
Before I could say any more, someone bashed roughly on the door.
"Is she out of there yet? I need to get my gear."

Andy.

He walked into the room and threw my clothes on the bed.
"Hurry up and get out. You must have things to organise – like a gig at the Metropolis."
I stared at my teacup. I really hoped that somewhere, in amongst those leaves was a shred of my dignity that I could reclaim. I couldn't find it.
Andy grabbed some papers from the desk and walked out without a glimpse at me. I gulped down the tea.

"I'll leave you to get dressed," said Jinxx,standing up.
When he'd gone, I gingerly got out of bed. One foot out and then the other. I hadn't asked him who'd undressed me but if Andy had carried me up there, he'd seen enough. I wanted to die. Throwing myself in the bay with rocks tied to my feet seemed like a great idea.
I put on my lingerie, which had survived the washing process intact, then looked at my dress.
The red fabric had turned motley shades of pink, like some cheap hippy tie-dye. Still, it would cover me until I got home. I pulled it over my head but it got stuck. Either I'd put on a stack of weight overnight or the dress had shrunk. Did I mention this dress had cost a small fortune? I didn't want to say anything. I didn’t want him to feel bad but I could not leave the house wearing that dress. I needed to do something.

I found a t-shirt on the floor that at least covered my knickers. That would do so I could get downstairs and ask Jinxx for a loan of something to wear home. I dunno what but he was pretty, skinny. Maybe he had a pair of jeans that I could tighten with a belt.
Black Sabbath it said across the t-shirt, whoever they were.
I stumbled downstairs to the lounge room I vaguely remembered.
Jinxx sat at the table working on his laptop while Andy sprawled on the couch strumming his guitar.

I expected the place to be a mess after the party but you’d have not noticed that people had been here. Not even a stray glass lying around. No wondered I’d heard noise from the kitchen. He must have worked his butt off cleaning this place.
The place had an industrial charm but it was freezing cold. Didn't they have central heating? I stood in the middle of the room, shivering, about to ask for something else to put on.
"My Sabbath shirt? Get it off! Now!"

"I had nothing else to wear. My dress shrunk." I pulled at the hem of the t-shirt, trying to cover more of myself while Andy's glare burnt through my skin.
"I don't care. Take it off."
"I'm sure as hell not stripping off here."
He went back to strumming the guitar. "Well, it's not like we haven't seen it already."
I ran back up to the bedroom and threw myself on the bed. Maybe the dress would go on if I tried really hard? I pulled it over my head and wiggled myself but could not even get it over my shoulders.

"Are you okay? I bought you up some other clothes." Jinxx came in with a bundle in his hands. He held up a dress. A totally shabby dress – black stretch fabric, giving the image of cheap whore.
“Thanks, that'll be fine." Beggars can't be choosers and I needed to leave. I didn't even want to think why he had a slut dress just hanging around the house. No doubt from a floozy that Andy had hanging around. They probably had a store of underwear and all kinds of things.
I stripped off the t-shirt and pulled on the dress. It seemed a bit baggy around the boobs and I wished I had a jacket or something to put over it. I looked for my shoes but they must’ve been downstairs, and wished I had something to tie my hair back with.

When I got downstairs again, Andy had gone. Jinxx drew me a map showing how to get to the train station, complete with directions. He was such sweet guy. I didn't want to mention that the cheap polyester of the dress was giving me hives or that it crept up at the back but, before I left, he told me to wait a minute and grabbed me a jacket to wear so I didn't get cold.
On the way to the station, I grabbed a coffee then remembered I had to pay rent. I went to the ATM and got the last $500 from my bank account. Angie had said we had work today and that Friday was payday. It wouldn't be much but it'd be something to add to the stash. Some weeks, she'd said, you get a few full days and it makes for a decent pay check but sometimes it was just a few hours. Maybe an extra $50 or so.

I put the money in my purse and looked longing at the pastries in a bakery window before I got to the station.
Once I got on the train, I felt sleepy. Since it was after rush hour, the carriage was half empty and I had the seat to myself. It actually wasn't that far from Jinxx and Andy's place to mine, he had explained but, because of the way the trains worked, I needed to go right into the city and back out again. I hated public transport. I hated that smell that sunk into the seats from thousands of unwashed asses. I hated the glare of the sun coming in the windows that you couldn't escape and the noise hissing out of a hundred iPods with cheap headphones. A couple of gangly teenagers swung from the rail on the roof of the train, their pants hung down showing their knickers, and an old man gave me sleazy looks.
I got my sun glasses out of my bag.
Before we got to the next station, I'd dozed off.
Still half asleep, I noticed a woman hovering over me. She had lanky hair hanging down in her face and the smell of sweat radiated off her in waves. She grinned at me, showing a few missing teeth.
"Oi, love, is this your stop?"
I jumped up. I hadn't even noticed the train stop in the city
"Thanks," I called to the woman as I ran off the train. Lucky she'd woken me.
I ran to the next platform and jumped on another train. It was only a few more stops and at least I'd be home and could change into something decent.
When I got to my station, I waved my bag over the barrier gates. I had my transport card in my bag and that should've been enough to swipe it but the bloody barriers didn't open. I sighed then fished in my bag for my wallet so I could get my card out.
My wallet wasn't there.
What the hell! It had to be. I'd put it back in my bag after I went to the ATM. I patted myself down in case I'd put it in a pocket – even though I had no pockets in my outfit. I searched again, pulling everything out of my bag to make sure. It had to be in there but a hard lump of sick-feeling settled in my stomach. Maybe it'd fallen out on the train.
I ran back to the platform but the train was long gone so I stamped my feet and looked for a staff member.

"Well, I can let you out this time but love, if the inspectors were here, they'd bust you for sure." He looked me up and down and looked at the clock, giving me a cheeky grin. "You sure had a big night, didn't you?"

"I'm not fare evading. My wallet was stolen. And I don't want you to just let me through the barrier, I want you to contact a station down the line so they can check the train for my wallet."
The train guy rolled his eyes.
“They can't do that. Most of the stations further down the line aren't even manned. Best you'll get is maybe some kind person will hand your wallet in. You can call the central lost and found tomorrow."
"But my money…"
"Reckon that's long gone. You didn't notice anything drop out of your bag?"
"No. I had it right on the seat beside me the whole time. Unless it dropped out when that woman woke me up."
He shook his head. "Are you stupid? You were asleep and some woman woke you up? Didn't you check then? What are you, five years old? Wouldn't the first thing you did be check your bag?"

"I had to run to catch the other train."
He shook his head some more. "A fool and his money are soon parted. That's what my Nan always said. But here, I'll give you the number to call, just in case. You might get your cards and stuff back. Don't tell me you had other valuables in there? Cancel your credit cards straightaway. You could go to the police but doubt they'd be able to do much."
The bank had already cancelled my credit cards. I only had that cash. And maybe $3 or so in change in the bottom of my bag.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch something. Why couldn't the police do anything? I'd seen the woman, I'd be able to identify her. They could drag people in and I'd pick her out of a line up. I kicked the wall on my way out. I kicked it hard. Stupid trains. Stupid train people. But it didn’t make me feel better. It just hurt my foot.
I called in at the local police station on my way home but all they did was make me fill in some paperwork and, like the guy at the station, they told me I should be more careful in future. I didn't think that was a very good way to protect the safety and property of the general public but the police officer just said they were understaffed and they couldn't run after every thief.
That meant I had $50 in wages due to me, and – well nothing. A possibility of some money from the band in the future but nothing at all concrete. I had rent due at the end of the week and, if I didn't pay, I'd be out on the street. I could make sure I wasn't home when they came around. Yeah, they collected my rent in cash. Nothing dodgy about that, nothing dodgy at all. But, even if I avoided them, sooner or later, I'd have to pay or they might chuck my stuff out.
I sighed. When Dad had told me I had to be tough, I don’t think he realized how tough I needed to be. Where was he? I’d done enough. I’d learnt all my lessons. Surely it was time this finished.

If I contacted Tom for a loan, he'd ask a lot of questions. I guess I could call Frank but really he'd been a bit creepy and weird since this happened as though it gave him some kind of sick pleasure seeing me down and out. And I'd get another lecture about being stupid for having “my wallet stolen. Nobody tells you about things before they happen but afterwards everyone's an expert.

I'd have bought one of those delish pastries if I'd known some scumbag was going to steal my money anyway. There was no point in even trying not to spend money in this world. Fate just stepped in and punished you.
Anyway, I could deal with this myself. I was strong. I just had to use my brain and my initiative and put myself into "poor person" mode. I bet poor people dealt with this kind of thing all the time and I was obviously smarter than them.

When I got home, I threw myself on the bed. I'd just sleep for the next few days until Friday then I'd not have to eat or do anything that cost money. That would be for the best. Except I had to book the band into that club and I had to come up with a grand for the video cost. My stomach rumbled and I realised I'd had nothing but a cup of tea all day.
I had $3.15. That wouldn't even buy a burger. My stomach rumbled louder. Then I remembered the box in the cupboard. Filled with chocolate tree frogs. I opened the packet and took a bite. Then nearly spat it out. I checked the packaging again. These things were organic, sugar-free chocolate. The 'guilt-free' treat. Guilt-free, my ass. They should feel guilty for even making these nasty things. And I should feel guilty for handing them out to unsuspecting people.
I finished eating it though, because food is food.
Then I spent a long time lying on my bed, looking at the cracks in the ceiling. When you have a problem, cracks in the ceiling are probably the worst advisors to turn to for answers but I had nothing else. The white ceiling had water stains that looked like deformed zoo animals and the cracks were like the fences holding them in. If it wasn't for those cracks, the water stain animals would surely get free and attack me.

Notes