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(OFFICIAL NOVEL)
Preview.
Among the heavy green and yellowish majestic clouds of the great beyond, in what hides the underworld and realm of the supernatural. The voice of a being is heard through the misty atmosphere of the sky, which is not the same as the one we know.
A voice, a voice searching for something that once belonged to it.
“ My angel…”
“ …”
“… My sweet little angel…”
“… Come back to me.”
“ Where have you gone?” His voice is heard through the lightning. Among the clouds, mostly human faces with agonized expressions begin to form; angry, melancholic, worried, sorrowful. The sound of the wind makes them sound like insane shrieks.
“It is time for you to return to where you belong. Take away the light that lies in your flesh and deliver your soul from eternal damnation….”
“Casz…!” a second voice is heard in the distance.”
“… to me… “ The first voice, reaffirming its prayer to the angelic face, fading into the clouds. The one hauntingly lovely and precious face, something sculptural; empty eyes (“Casz…!”), pale and delicate skin, with its ashen yellowish hair, something that could never be described by a human. It was death speaking to her fallen angel through cries.
“ … My soulless child! “ Exclaims the first voice, stopping.
“ CASZ!!! “ Two eyes open expressively with uncertainty.
Baby Blue Cry
Created and written by: Emma Castro.
Chapter 01
-
“Who Is She ?”
“ CASZ!!! “ The same voice echoed in the surrounding atmosphere.
“ CASZ!!! “ The sweet angelic voice was intoning little by little until it sounded like that of a woman in her fifties. It awakens a girl, who is lying in a disheveled bed. A 19-year-old girl, with brittle hair and unkempt wolf cut, skin pale from lack of sun yet somewhat reddish, dark circles under her bitter eyes whose irises are scarlet like blood, remarkable bones in her cheeks, and a pointed nose. She looked as if she were the very reincarnation of a gothic rock star from the 80’s . She was Casz herself. Her room was a catastrophe: dirty clothes combined with clean ones piled in a corner next to her closet, books with torn pages, half-finished bags of fried food, papers, cigarette butts, bottles, and cans of alcohol; describing that it looked like a garbage dump. The only presentable thing in his room were posters of retro bands like “The Cure”, “Bauhaus” and “Alien Sex Fiend” covering damage in the shape of their fists all over the wall.
- Casz's morning -
(Part 01)“ Casz! “ The voice of the same fifty-something woman, her mother, shouted. “It's half past six in the morning! Your alarm clock stopped ringing, you're going to be late because you're so irresponsible!”
Casz gets up without any encouragement or motivation from his bed. She picks up her cell phone from the floor, which is charging its battery, and opens her music player, selecting the song “Burning From The Inside” by Bauhaus. At the sound of Peter Murphy's sultry, dark voice, she rubs her face with both hands and says to herself, in thought: “For God's sake, give me a break! It's the same old shit again.” She thinks and thinks as she goes through her routine; she tries to untangle her tousled hair and gets dressed. “I can't even sort out my thinking anymore, my mind has become a smokescreen that fools itself. It's getting harder and harder to shut those damn voices… faces… I'm screwed.”
"… I'm tired of looking for solutions. Maybe it doesn't matter anymore.” The girl stops to sit on her bed, looking at a small photo that she had in a golden frame next to a pair of round, yellowish crystal glasses. “Good morning, Papa" The photo was the only thing she had of Leo Corbeau, her late father. There he was holding her when she was 7 years old, in the background was the “CN Tower” and a few Canadian buildings. Black cigarette marks burned her mother's face. In the same photo, her father was wearing glasses. “It won't be long before I get to see you… I'll pull it the same way you did.” She thinks, imagining that she is chatting with him while holding him in front of her, as if he can hear her.
Walking down to the kitchen, she encounters Harold Morrissey, her stepfather. A tremendously overweight man, wearing nothing but dirty underwear, sparse gray hair, and greasy skin with a balled-up nose, which held a pair of magnifying glasses. This mayo ball was watching the day's church mass on TV, holding a can of beer in his hand and sitting on the couch. “Good morning, Harold.” Casz greets, saying good morning. Harold looks at her sullenly, without saying a word.
“I said good morning!” Casz speaks more forcefully. With half a body, Harold aggressively turns to look at Casz, scowling.
“Can shut the fuck up, woman!? I'm trying to watch mass on my TV!” Harold shouts.
Walking in front of the TV, Casz responds just as hostilely as she is passing by. “Why are you even watching it on TV? Do you know there's a church across the street?” Harold gets up from the couch, knocking beer onto the floor from how hard he squeezes the can. “Our lord and savior is everywhere! Maybe you'd know that if you weren't such a spoiled brat!” At such a shout, Casz jumps up, avoiding being hit by the beer bottle; ignoring the rest of the shouting, Casz paces, walking to the kitchen, where her backpack was on a chair in front of the table.
“Casz, honey. Aren't you even going to say good morning to me?” says Paige Morrissey, her birth mother. She was sitting at the other end of the table, her legs crossed, one eyebrow raised, hands folded with her elbows on the table and her dyed blonde hair arranged. Many said that this hairstyle went perfectly with her botox cheeks and unassuming makeup; meanwhile, in a baby chair, sat Casz's little sister, who looked a lot like her, even though she was only a year old. Casz turns her gaze towards her mother, in her eyes a slight change of expression could be noticed, it wasn't annoyance, it wasn't sadness, and much less happiness. The only person with whom she could feel inferior was her mother. Tension, fear, anger, anguish, that was what was going on inside her head. She was a woman who made you sick to your stomach just by spending a minute with her.
“Good morning… mother”. Casz says with spaces between each sentence. His voice had become more delicate and somewhat cutting.
“Casz, sweetie. Remember your manners, sweetheart. Without them, I don't think any person is going to respect you. Anyway, I don't have time to correct you on obvious things like that.
“Mother, I'm sorry. It's just that, yesterday, I couldn't sleep very well.
“Ha! Please don't make such ridiculous excuses, every night is the same for you! You go to your room, it's four in the morning and you're still awake. How are you supposed to get better like that?”
”But it's not my fault.”
“Let me guess. Your imaginary friends disturb your sleep.”
“They're not imaginary friends!” Casz yells angrily, slamming one of the table legs with her boot. Paige looks straight at Casz with her eyes wide open. Annoyance and indignation. She gets up from the table and slowly walks over to Casz, standing before her. “In my house. Do not yell… In my house. Do not disrespect. You. You have to. Respect. Me. This is not your house. If you don't want me to recognize you, keep doing what you're doing, go ahead. But I'll tell you something again, we don't want people we don't know inside this house. You got that, sweetie?” It seemed as if the whole room had become dark, the whole center of attention was her mother, it seemed that she covered everything with sinister shadows. Unable to speak, breath hitching and her eyes glazed over, Casz affirms by gently bobbing her head up and down.
“Now, Casz. Remember to pay me the rent for your room when you can. I'll be good to you and give you until the weekend. Don't leave your backpack on the chair either, I almost got something from the mess you make in this house, it seems I never educated you. And lastly… Go feed your sister, will you? If you're taking a lot of time to get ready, I think you can find time to do it.” Paige says, heading for the kitchen exit.
“She's not my sister” Casz whispers. Paige immediately turns around, saying “What did you say?”, Casz without making eye contact, replies in a slightly louder voice. “Nothing.” Paige turns again and leaves the room.
“That's what I figured. Remember to take your pills, at least that will help you think.” Paige turns around again and leaves the room.
Carrying her little sister in his arms, Casz picks up a jar of pear porridge and begins to feed her. “I'm sorry you had to share the same mother with me. I don't wish this on you.” He tells her, as she uses a spoon. Once finished, she leaves the baby on her seat, picks up her backpack, and walks across the room in front of Harold, who had fallen asleep, to head for the front door. Once outside, she sits down on a step by the front door; putting her backpack on her legs, she pulls out a metal flask, from which she takes a huge gulp until she finishes it, “Shit” She whispers, annoyed at having finished it mind back in her backpack and proceeds to knock it over. It wasn't her morning. She gets back up, closes the door, puts a cigarette to her lips, and goes on her way.
Casz's morning routine had been witnessed.
- The beautiful Allie -
(Part 02)Delicate knocks on the door are heard, knocks whose sound wakes up a beautiful girl who is lying on a large wooden bed. A bed with pink fluffy blankets, giant pillows filled with feathers, and covered with stuffed animals (A panda bear, a fox, a couple of cats, dogs, and white lambs.). Her room was the most feminine thing anyone could think of, her wallpaper was peach and creamy yellow stripes, which covered all of her room interior. A dark wood closet, a dressing table with lights and full of makeup products, a chest decorated with painted flowers that sat in front of a pair of large curtains, a couple of book cabinets beside her bed where a vintage lamp and a miniature nursery rested. Yellow Christmas tree lights, vinyl album covers (Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, Electric Light Orchestra's Out Of Blue, I Monster's Neveroddoreven, among others), an image of human body parts and fake plants hung above her bed. Photographs of friends, memories, family, and magazine pages she had been in, as well as high marks. The young girl emerges from the blankets, waking up. A girl with golden blonde hair, big green eyes that shone like the full moon at midnight, eyelashes both huge and lined, white as snow, and lips as red as blood. Her smile always used to brighten people's day. She was Alexandra Cinnamon, though everyone called her "Allie" affectionately.
“Allie, sweety, it's time to start getting ready for class!” Her mother's delicate voice sounds as if she is speaking in whispers but with a strong British accent. Allie opens her eyes slowly, stretches out on the bed, she hides under the covers.
“I'm coming, mommy!” Allie replies, her voice still sleepy.
“Allie, remember, if you're late, it will affect your grade!” Her mother tells her, so she quickly pulls back her covers and jumps out of bed. She takes off her nightgown to sleep and puts on a pink bathrobe. Leaving her room, she immediately heads to the bathtub to take a shower, once finished, she brushes her teeth, while drying her hair with a comb and blow-dryer. From the bathroom, she goes to her room, where the first thing she does is open her closet, in there she sees a couple of notebooks, a box of brushes, and paints inside a box. She takes the notebooks in her arms and stares at them for a long time, feeling a little doubtful and sad. “How I wish I could take you with me,” Allie says, speaking to her notebooks in a low voice. She shakes her head, leaves where the notebooks are, and grabs her clothes to get ready.
On the other side of the wall, in the hallway leading to the stairs. Turner Cinnamon, a man of slight build, hair slightly lighter than hers, arguably ash-colored, no more than 27 years old. He was a person who looked more than impeccable, due to his neatly combed hair (Similar to his sister's hair), pressed and matched clothes. He looked as if he had been part of the fifties, with his pastel yellow shirt buttoned open, which showed part of his chest, his black pants. Not a wrinkle was visible on his clothes. He pulls out a silver cell phone from his left pants pocket when he feels a vibration. He opens it, and by the expression reflected in his eyes, it seems to be something important, trying to ignore it, an incoming call surprises him, forcing him to answer. “ Hello?” Turner answers, letting some time pass. “I will, sir. I'll be th… I'm sorry” The person on the other end of the line hangs up, leaving Turner alone, his gaze becoming solvently serious; Allie exiting his room, closes the door, causing Turner to hastily put his phone away. “TURNER!!! GOOD MORNING, BIG BROTHER!!!!” Allie greets as she walks towards him, her happiness can be noticed, almost as if she could light up everything in her path with just her smile. His face changes drastically with a warm smile, and he turns to her with his arms outstretched.
“Allie, the house baby!!! It's good to see you awake already!” Turner exclaims, so she jumps into his arms and drops down, causing him to hold her. Because of their different stature, he bends down to hold her, lifts her to her feet, and duly hugs her.
“Yep, all ready. I'm an adult, I'm 20 years old. You don't have to ask me all the time.” Allie giggles. ”I'm a med student, I know how to take care of myself,” Allie pulls out of Turner's arms.
“Oh, wow! A medical student. In that case, I think you're the one who should be looking after me now.” Turner jokes.
“Well, yeah, when you get sick, I'll be holding you in my arms.” Allie plays along, she continues to joke. “I'm not a baby anymore!”
“Oh well, since I'm no longer of any use to you, I'm forced to no longer accompany you to anything!” Turner shoves his hands in his pockets and turns away, lowering his gaze.
“Noo! Turner, I'm kidding! I like you to come with me!” Allie grabs his arm, pulling him gently, Turner suddenly turns around, making her scream. “AGH! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! You fell into my trap, I'm never letting you go now!” Turner exclaims playfully, causing Allie to burst out laughing. Their mother watches them from the stairs with a basket of clothes in her hands. “Turner! Stop distracting your sister, she's already late! You look like giant babies.” She exclaims calmly.
“Okay, Allie. I left your breakfast on the table, hurry up and finish it.” Turner looks at his wristwatch again.
“Oh, thank you so much! But I think I'll put it in a bag, and eat it there, instead of going to the cafeteria I'm already in a bit of a hurry!”
“In that case, I'd rather you finish taking all your stuff for class, I'll bag it for you.” Turner walks towards the stairs, she thanks him, and halfway up he stops and turns to look at Allie. “Don't you want your brother to carry you to watch your back?” To which she shouts in play “I'm not a baby!!!”, so he laughs. “Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! I know, I know. Just remember, anything you call me, you know my number, and I'll be there. I'll always be there.” Turner finishes his sentence with a whisper, raking his fingernail tips along the staircase handrail.
Allie's morning routine had been witnessed.
Matthew R. Shultz University Institute.
(Part 03)
Matthew R. Shultz University. A university dedicated to science, and diversity, exploring everything from politics to medicine to research. Even if it was a school located in a small town in California called "El Centro", it had a lot of recognition, at least two from the same town. The university had several faculties: Medicine, Business and Social Studies, Sports, Law, Nursing, Engineering, Psychology, and Architecture; only one cafeteria with a Subway sandwich stand. Students were just arriving from home since it was a little early for classes to start, many usually began at eight or nine o'clock. That school had all kinds of students, there were the good ones, the average ones, the ones who hid things from the authorities and… the popular ones.
Inside the cafeteria, in that same morning, everyone was talking, having breakfast, and attending to their business, even a couple of students were hiding behind their notebooks, already doing homework or drawing. Everything was very calm, at least that's what it seemed. At the other end of the cafeteria, just past the hallway, rumbling sounds could be heard from behind the men's room door. Inside a stall was a pair of agitated breaths.”Hah!” “Hah!” “Hah!” “Hah!” moaned a female voice, at which point a deep, deep male groan could be heard. The rumbling ceases to be heard, but a zipper closes. A girl comes out of the bathroom, wiping her red lips with her hand, turns to look inside the stall and smiles.”Thanks for breakfast, Chad.” She was speaking to the man at the other end. Chad, that was the name of the most popular guy in the whole university, no, the whole town. An extremely strong boy, with a perfectly shaped jawline, black hair combed in dreadlocks. Clean dark tan skin, there was no need to mention his height to confirm that he was a giant in perfect condition, his body was as if he was created by the Greeks themselves. People always told him that his lips were like lightning. Doubting girls and boys would melt in the heat. He was strong. He was charismatic. Not only that, but he was untouchable.
“I'll see you another time?” She asks with a smile from ear to ear.
“Sorry, chiquita. Chad's coaster can only be ridden once. There are too many in line.” Chad answers confidently. She gives the “Call me” sign with her hand and exits the men's room. Chad heads for the hand sink, so he soaks his hands to wets his face, and starts lining his brow with his thumb. The door is kicked in by another pair of strapping guys. His friends.
“Yo! Chad! My man!” He yells at the top of his lungs, Brad, Chad's best friend, extends his arm. Chad turns around smiling, greeting him back with shouts. They shake hands and bump biceps. “Aaaaaahh!!” Both musclemen roar in front of each other.
“Bro, check out what a little birdie brought in this morning.” Brad pulls out of his pants pocket a small resealable bag filled with a snow-white powder. He just shows it to her, holding up a proud smile.
“Is that what I think it is?” Chad asks, pointing to the bag.
“Oh yes. It's “that” Brad replies.
“Bro… Not cool”. Chad replies, holding his hand tightly. Brad looks worriedly at Chad, thinking that at any moment he would take his anger out on him, the fear reflected on his face. “Not cool, not sharing with your compadre, bro!” Chad exclaims. They both yell “Ahh” pointing at each other. Brad opens the bag, marinating his finger inside the powder, as he finishes, he shoves it up one nostril, snorting it in. grin takes it.
“Shit! That feels like I am heaven and a bunch of angels are sucking it!” Brad exclaims, closing his eyelids tightly and clenching his fists. He holds up the bag for Chad to take. Chad with a sideways
“Who'd you get it from, bro?” Chad asks, looking at the bag.
“The Conejo Blanco, bro. You know him well.” Brad answers quickly.
“The Conejo, huh? Then I know it's quality.” Chad continues talking as he opens the ball; His gaze is suddenly diverted as he sees something on the other side of the open door behind them. Without removing his gaze, he walks past Brad, heading for the door. “Watch her for me for a while, will you? I'll be back in a bit.” Chad says, tossing the ball back to Brad. “Bro, just be quick, because if you take a hell of a time, I'll devour this delicacy all by myself!” Brad jokes. Walking out of the bathroom door, Chad headed toward Allie, who had just arrived home from school. She stopped in front of her locker, where she pulled out a few books and put in others, she was coming in a little focused, but relaxed, with nothing to take the smile off her face. Distracted, one of Chad's arms goes around her neck, pulling her up, she lets out a scream of shock and surprise, but when she sees Chad's face, she gets her smile back and looks at him with excitement. “Oh my god! Chad! Hi! Hello!" Allie exclaims.
“You have no idea how much I've missed you, beautiful” Chad releases Allie, putting his hand on her shoulder.
“But we only saw each other yesterday for the last time on the way out.” Allie says, a little confused, but without taking off her smile.
“That's an eternity for me!” Chad dramatically puts his fist to his forehead, pretending to be in emotional pain.
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” She laughs, followed by a playful fist on Chad. “Oh, yeah, very sad. You sure were having a great time with some of your… how do you call them? Ah, yes. “babes.” Hee hee hee!” Allie comments.
“Actually, yes, you're right. I did have a great time with two babes. These babes!” Chad flexes his huge biceps, looking majestic, like he's a bodybuilder. “This babe right here I named Allie, just like you, baby girl. And this one I named Austin. That's what we'd name our babies if we were married.” Allie's eyes go wide, leaving her completely flushed, she giggles loudly with some nerves and lets out a light smack with one of her notebooks.
“Hohohoho! Chad!, don't say that.” Allie turns sideways. At that, Chad laughs too.
“Easy, baby. I just wanted to show you that I was training last night. Hours, by the way, I trained for hours” Chad gets serious, averting his gaze to the horizon.
“Aw, Chad. You're so sweet! You know you don't have to show me your biceps to prove you trained. I know you! I know you train every day, every day you keep me in the loop. He. He.” Allie turns back to her locker, to go back to her business. “Besides, I know how crazy a lot of girls are about you”.
“I know! Agh! I'm trying to remember their names, but there are so many!" Chad taps his forehead as if he acts like he's thinking hard. Allie just smiles amicably and goes back to her own thing, letting a few seconds pass. “Listen, Allie, I wanted to ask if you wanted me to walk you to class. Whatever… class you have now?” Chad asks, standing firmly in front of her.
“But Chad, you're from the sports school, you're at the other end of the building. Besides, I have Functional Biophysics. Do you even know what that is?” Allie asks, closing her locker.
“Uh... sure. Physical Biophysics is... when biological... uh... functions are activated by physical activity. Like my brain muscles when I play football” Chad confused, explains, hoping that some of what he's said is true, mostly to impress her.
“Listen, Chad. You know I love you for who you are, but we could meet up some other time, maybe on a break between classes!” Allie lets Chad know, putting her hand on his cheek.
“What do you say we go out for a burger after classes?”
“Sorry, I can't, I have a photo shoot for the mall's weekly magazine.”
“Right, right. You'd better do it.” Chad replies, putting his arms crossed and his gaze down.
“Come on, don't be sad, Chad. It's just for today, you know I always like doing things with you, I do enjoy your company more than anything” Allie smiles at him as she tells him sincerely, putting her hand on one of his arms. Chad smiles back.
“All the best to my favorite model”.
One of the speakers interrupts their conversation. “Alexandra Cinnamon, please report to the medicine director's office.” A woman's voice is heard, calling Allie. She hurries to gather her things, says a hasty goodbye to Chad, and rushes off. As Chad is alone, Brad approaches him, putting his arm around his neck. “Bro, you're the strongest of them all, but you look kind of goofy when you walk next to that nerd. Fuck, if I were you, I'd spread that juicy little ass in two already. Hurry up, bro, that's what everyone wants to do, bro.” Brad says quietly to Chad, watching Allie walk away. At that, Chad makes a fist, wanting to punch Brad. “Wow! Easy bro! You can't hit me, I am your bro, bro!” Backs Brad up in fear. Chad's arm shakes, so instead of hitting him, he aggressively grabs the resealable bag from Brad's pants, opens it, grabs a fistful of powder, and once inhaling, destroys one of the lockers with one punch.
“Let's go, bro” Chad responds angrily. Brad, laughing, goes after him. Within seconds, Albert, the school nerd, arrives heading for his locker, only to find it annihilated. Leaving him with his jaw hanging wide, speechless.
Inside the office, Principal Morgan, the head of the medical school, was sitting in his chair, arranging pencils on top of a small soft mat, waiting for Allie to arrive. The sound of the clock and air conditioning was the only thing adding music to the atmosphere. A few minutes later, a knock sounded at his door, so he shouted “Come in!” letting Allie in. “Good morning, Principal Morgan. You wanted to see me?” Allie asks.
“Miss Cinnamon, how nice of you to come in! I just have a special surprise for you, please have a seat.” Principal Morgan waves Allie over to one of the chairs in front of his desk. He looked very pleased.
“Do you need me for something this morning, Principal Morgan?” Sitting down in one of the chairs, she asks with intrigue.
“Allie, I know you are an excellent student, you have an impeccable record of conduct and grades. Not just from past semesters or your success as our local model, but from kindergarten through high school. The teachers and I were talking about something.” He leans toward her, crossing his fingers. “We're proposing you to be a medical school assistant”. Hearing what Principal Morgan told her, Allie is surprised, leaving her without something to say. “Ha! Exciting, I know. But it would be good for you, just think about it, you'd get extra points on your grades, it would help your resume, and getting a job would be easier”. Explains Morgan.
“Wow. I- I don't know what I… I accept the offer!” Allie exclaims with joy. Shaking the principal's hand.
“Excellent, Miss Cinnamon! Now, I won't take any more of your class time, go to…” their chat is interrupted by his secretary. “Principal Morgan, you have a teacher with a student requesting your presence.” Says the secretary. Excusing himself to Allie, Principal Morgan walks out the door. While the principal was talking to the secretary. Allie looked through the louvered curtain of the window, on the other side was Ms. Johnson. Ms. Johnson? But she's the teacher she had a class with at that time! Next to Miss Johnson was someone else, shifting her gaze to the other person, Allie's expression hardened with curiosity, locking eyes with that person. That other person was none other than Casz, wearing her black hoodie, Miss Johnson had her by the arm, she seemed to be arguing. Curiosity had penetrated Allie's mind, she had felt something when she saw that girl. As if she recognized her. "That girl…who was she, where had she come from?” Allie was trying to keep her head on straight. It was all a mystery that deserved an answer. Principal Morgan returns to his office.
“I'm sorry, Cinnamon, it was just a misunderstanding with your teacher and an irresponsible student who was late. Can you believe it? She should learn from you. Please go to class.” Principal Morgan exclaims wearily. Allie leaves the office, so it's her turn to walk with Casz into the classroom. The silence was loud. As they walk, Allie extends her hand to Casz.
“Hi, I'm Alexandra!” Allie stands with her hand outstretched, waiting for Casz to greet her. Looking at her bitterly, Casz doesn't say a word back. She lowers her hand slowly, just as she changes her mind, her smile fading. “Are you from Ms…” As Allie asks, she is interrupted. ”Hey, can you shut the fuck up?” Casz says quietly and firmly. Allie takes her eyes off her as quickly as she can and clasps her hands together. The two girls met for once.
— The Phantom—
(Part 04)
In the windy afternoon, almost night, where the sun could be seen painting the sky with its golden and purple color as it set in front of the "Imperial Garden" shopping mall. A black 1969 Chevelle with armored windows enters the parking lot, stopping in front of a couple of men. One of the gentlemen approaches the car. Two seconds after tapping a couple of times on the glass, he gets out, revealing Turner inside the car, wearing a pair of dark glasses, his hair blowing slightly in the wind. “Are you Mr. Jacobs?” Turner asks in his baritone voice, chewing a stick of gum.
“It's me! And this is Mr. Stamper.” Mr. Jacobs exclaims in a loud voice, trying to make Turner hear through the wind. “Is the model with you?” he asks, pointing to the car. Turner stares at him for a long time, chewing his gum. “Yes.” He finally answers.
“Excellent! Tell him to get out of the car, and we'll let you know when it's all over.” Mr. Jacobs says.
“Hold it right there”. Turner says, putting his hand up. “I'll stay with her the whole time.” Turner continues. Mr. Jacobs smiles kindly at Turner, showing all his teeth.
“I don't think that will be necessary, you see the area of the mall where we will be working will be closed…” Jacobs explains until Turner interrupts.
“I. Will. With. Her. I can't leave her with strangers, can I? I couldn't let anything happen to the best model in El Centro. Unless we want… that.” Turner says consequentialy. Mr. Jacob turns to look at the other man, so he turns back to Turner. “Okay, but don't go touching any of the equipment.” Turner puts his hands up and with a mocking expression says. “Oop! Don't worry, I wouldn't have to.” Turner gets out of the car and opens the door for Allie, who is wearing a white dress with black dots low-cut in a heart shape a furry coat, and white boots with heels.
“You didn't have to say all that!” Allie says to Turner, as he shakes hands with her. The two gentlemen smile in the background.
“Believe me it's necessary, you're my little sister. The world is mental”
“If you say so”. Allie answers, a little embarrassed and annoyed.
“Let's make it quick, gentlemen! We don't have much time, she has to get back to her homework!” exclaims Turner, as they all head for the mall. Allie shushes.
A couple of hours later, while they were taking pictures and a few film recording sessions, Turner taps Mr. Stamper on the shoulder a couple of times, and in between their small talk, Turner shows him a wad of cash. Lifting his shirt a little, Stamper accepts the deal as he sees what is hidden underneath. Threatening “Just don't make her look bad.”
“All right, pretty lady! Now give us some more skin. Something that screams glamour!” Jacobs says. Closing her eyes, Allie slightly pulls up one of the edges of her costume, slowly peeking out her legs. Even though she kept her blind smile, the discomfort could not be silenced inside her mind. All she could think was that this was all for her sake, her family, and to be able to support herself. “Work is work”.
“Wonderful, Miss Cinnamon! That's all for…” announces Mr. Jacobs, only to be stopped by Stamper, who says something in his ear. “How could I have forgotten, Miss Cinnamon! One last set of photos, and we'll set you free.” Jacobs says.
Rearranging her clothes, she raises her attention to them. Wondering what else they would want. “The lingerie shop just paid us extra to promote her in the commercial. They'll give you the costumes and script. We assume you're familiar with them, right?” Mr. Jacobs asks her, holding up a smile with interest. She stares at them, hesitantly and with some panic, not sure what to answer, it's not something she would want to do. Approaching her brother, she says. “ Turner, they asked me to do one more session. I'm going to be a little longer”.
“Are you sure you have to? You don't look very comfortable with that.” Turner says uneasily.
“It's just that it's my job, it's not about whether I'm comfortable or not.” She nods gently, not taking her eyes off him. She lets out a small laugh. “Mm! You worry a lot about me, I'll be fine, nothing is going to happen to me. Besides, I love my job, I'm comfortable”. Trying to reassure him, she hugs him. As she is holding him, she says to him behind his back. “And it's not true that I have urgent homework, you nasty”. Turner lets a pair of laughs.
Turner's Chevelle pulls up to the curb of the "223" house. The Cinnamon home. Hours had passed since the last photo shoot. Getting out of the car, both siblings walk towards the front door. She was carrying a glass of milkshake with the logo of Randall's Hatbox Burger.
“Next time I'll get the barbecue bacon burger. It looks luscious.” Allie comments as he reaches for his keys.
“You know it's not good for you to eat that stuff, Allie”. Turner says, concentrating on his keys.
“According to you, nothing's good for me!” Allie exclaims, not in such a serious tone, but part of what she was saying was somewhat true.
“You're a model, Allie, not a doctor or nurse. You can't neglect your food. Besides, you like chicken tenders better. You can see it in your love handles”. Turner jokes, fitting the right key into the lock on the door and turning it. Allie's mouth half smiles and opens wide as she frowns. Giving him playful swipes with the glass on his back. “Ha. Ha. No you don't, you look great” Turner finally opens the door to his house, looking directly into the living room, where their mother is sitting on the couch. Allie rushes over to greet her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Mommy!!” Allie exclaims, hugging her.” My baby! How did it go?” Mrs. Cinnamon asks tenderly and happily. “There is our little Marilyn Monroe!! Welcome home!” Proudly shouts with excitement her father, who in the kitchen, was taking something out of the oven.
“Mother, Father”. Turner says hello, once they finish talking to each other and Allie goes to her room.
“Hello, son” Mrs. Cinnamon greets.
“I thought you'd be working, Turner.” His father says, changing his attitude in the blink of an eye, now firmly.
“I was just... I was just getting my jacket.” Turner replies.
“Well, you'd better hurry up. Time doesn't come back.” Finishes his father, crossing his arms. Turner grabs his jacket from the coat hanger on the wall and heads for the door, letting them know he is on his way out.
“Just be careful, son. Being a night guard is always a risk. Don't get into trouble either.” Turner's mother says.
“Easy, Mother. You know me. I know how to take care of myself. When have I ever been in trouble?” Turner says moments before walking out the door.
— Blue Moonage Daydream: Hotel & Casino —
(Part 05)
In the middle of the city, where the well-to-do and well-to-do used to go, and the merchants used to open their businesses in the glory years of "El Centro". It was known as the main street, now, it is nothing more than the old part of town. If you are lucky, there is hardly any life to be found in the shops there. Secondhand shops, the occasional burger joint, broken brick walls, pharmacies, and alleys where drug addicts and vagrants abound. Luckily, not everything was dead there. A hotel at the end of the street, a luxurious hotel, an elegant hotel which had six floors, a couple of swimming pools, balconies, and a casino. The Blue Moonage Daydream Hotel. With a private car park, not just anyone could park there who wasn't a guest; however, a bar that accompanied the hotel was always open to the public. Alcohol, food, entertainment, all in one. Passing through the dirty, deserted streets on the way to the hotel, Turner's Chevelle cruises by. At the entrance to the car park, a security guard peers through the booth window. Turner puts a “Staff” badge on the rearview mirror of his case, causing the guard to raise the bar, letting him pass, with an evil eye from Turner.
Piano, a pair of violins, and a drum kit, accompanied by a delicate voice that seemed to be sung by an angel. A brown-haired woman in a red dress singing her soul out to the rhythm of the band, playing a mix of slow Bossa nova, lounge and Latin Jazz, on a stage adorned with a red curtain. Warm colors, brown tables, and the stage light shining from above contrasted with the low lights. That was what Turner's ears and eyes heard as he entered the bar at the side of the hotel. He wasn't wearing a safety jacket, having left it in the car. Passing through inebriated people, he confidently stopped in front of a cloth railing and golden posts, which separated a VIP part of the bar. Seeing him, the bartender (the man who serves drinks) rushes over to open the hook on the railing. “Come in, Mr. Cinnamon.” Turner, seeing that the bartender is a short man, crouches down, and giving him a couple of gentle slaps smiles at him. He sits down at the only table he could find with a sign that had a "Reserved" sign on it.
“You know what I want, Thom”. He says to the bartender, handing him the menu without taking his eyes off the singer.
“The filet Mignon, coming up in a second, sir.” Says the bartender submissively.
Turner, watching the singer, pours himself a glass of wine, a glass of whiskey and, taking the roses from the centerpiece, downs the whiskey in one gulp. Leaving the glass upside down, he closes his eyes, waiting for his body to accept the strength of the alcohol, rises confidently from his seat, goes on stage, takes the singer by the waist, takes the microphone, and gives her the roses without looking at her, taking the limelight himself, singing as if he were the star. Continuing the song, she had been interrupted by him. Singing with his baritone voice. Singing with all his soul, knowing each word of the lyrics. Taking the microphone with passion and elegance. Making love to the music.
“Lengerie shining as the moon gatekeep our secrets;
to the deadly path of life just to be never seen again;
Going into this vicious circle with no idea that there was no way back;
It was you, the specter that caused this;
I'm sorry I took the paths thinking it would be better;
Apologies are due to me, for it is to me that I owe that forgiveness;”
Turner finished singing, the sweat on his face from the spotlight and the look in his eyes spoke for himself as he made his experience with the music and the venue known. The audience begins to applaud and the curtain closes. He approaches her ear and whispers to her. “Bella, beautiful, you looked like you have no idea. The sparkles on your dress don't compare to the sparkles in my eyes when I see you, sexy legs”.“Why don't you go finish your meal, Turner?” She says to Turner. It was obvious they already knew each other. He approaches her, with a similar intention of kissing, so she pushes him away. Smiling, he, leaving the stage, heads to his table again, being surprised by a group of men in suits. In the center of them stood a stocky man, hard-skinned and tanned, his hair pulled back, a cigar in his mouth, gold rings on his thick, hairy fingers. He was the head of a criminal organization, the leader of a cartel, Mafioso if one wishes to call him that. He was the most wanted man on the entire U.S.-Mexico border. No one knew his real name, but everyone knew him as Don "Polilla". He stands up with a smile and his arms in the air.
“Conejo!” shouts Polilla in a tick Mexican accent. “You came early”
“Don Polilla.” Says Turner respectfully.
“Sit down, mijo.” Polilla points to a chair with the palm of his hand. Turner proceeds to sit down, approaching the table. “Here, have a cigarette”. says Moth, pulling a pack from his sack and handing it to him.
“Much obliged, Don Polilla, but I have my own.”
“Come on, mijo. I'd hate for you to be without yours, mine's in the house. Unless you don't trust me.” Don Polilla smiles, letting his gold tooth show. Turner takes a cigarette and, lighting it with his lighter, puts it in his mouth. Then, with his fingers crossed and elbows on the table, Polilla approaches Turner, shaking his head up and down, until he stares at him with a smile. “You sure know how to do business around here, don't you, cabrón?” says Don Polilla with hostility.
“I just do what I know the customers want” Turner says. It looked like it was, no-. It was definitely business talk.
“My daughter.” Polilla points to the closed curtain. “My daughter is the one who stole your heart, I can see it in your eyes. Listen, I wouldn't let just any pendejo near her delicate skin, but I know you well. I want to make a deal with you, Rabbit. If you keep the market this high, I might manage to take her out with you. Who knows, you might make a good son-in-law. An Englishman with a little Tecate girl, you don't see that every day”
“With all due respect, Don Polilla. Your daughter is not one of my priorities right now.” Turner says while taking a sip from his wine glass.
“No? Well, that's an answer that surprises me, mind you. The bad thing is that there is someone of you who IS one of my priorities”.
“Who is?” Turner asks.
"Tu hermanita." Responde Don Polilla.
“My sister is not part of the business! She will not be a victim of your hands”. Turner exclaims firmly.
“No! No, mijo! How do you think? I know she's a sweet little sweetheart filled with love. But don't think I don't know what you're doing, cabrón. That sweet little dolly face gets more customers than any other method.” says his boss with a chuckle.
“Manipulation through images.” Says Miguel, an elderly man who is Don Polilla's right-hand bodyguard/hitman. “We have information, you use unpublished photos of your sister, some fake, some real. But all of them of your sister. You take advantage of her beauty and her work as a crazy model. The reasons why you do it are none of our business. Only what suits us”.
“Thank you very much, Miguel. Don't look so surprised, Conejo. We won't do anything to her, we won't touch a hair on her head. But, you must give us something extra. Keep giving us customers, and you'll see how your life will change. Take advantage of the fruit of her youth, boy. Neither the Colombians, Peruvians, nor even the Italians can compete with us. We are the organization in the high ground, almost as powerful as the Cubans.” replies Don Polilla, putting his hand on Turner's shoulder. He thinks deeply about what Polilla has just told him.
“If you want to do this, I'm going to require thirty percent more”. Turner replies.
“It's at the heart of what the business is, and you know how to do it, hijo de tu puta madre. That's just the way I like it.” Don Polilla in his deep smoker's raspy voice, holding a sinister smile on his face. Turner leaves a roll of notes in his hand, Miguel picks it up to count it. Seeing that everything is in order, Miguel nods, and then Turner asks permission to get up and leave.
Among one of the corridors inside the hotel, next to the bar, Turner stops in front of the door of room 208, knocking on the door, Cory opens it, a young man in baggy clothes, shiny skin, his hair dirty and disheveled. His gaze was lost, he looked at him with his red eyes and laughingly let him pass. The room was messy, with pizza boxes stacked on the floor, fry wrappers, and a couple of bongs next to empty bottles of beer and energy drink cans on a table, the air was covered by a cloud of smoke. Songs from the album by “F Doom” are playing on a portable radio. “Conejo, dude! Come in! I've been... uhh... I've been waiting for you for hoooours and shit, man. Ha. ha.” Cory says, barely able to speak, while Turner, in his disgust, reserves his words; Turner puts a yellow envelope on top of the bed, Cory runs to the bed and jumps on it, opening the envelope, he finds photographs of Allie, which had been taken earlier that afternoon. He closes the envelope again and, turning to Turner, smiles at him.
“Now go home, Cory. You've got some merchandise to sell early tomorrow.”
Walking back to his car, he curiously notices a person under the influence of alcohol, leaning against a wall outside the bar, puffing out puffs of cigarette smoke. Casz. “She looks like fun. She looks mysterious, dark, sensual.” He thinks, and looks at his watch, so without taking his eyes off her, he walks towards her. “Do you have fire?” Turner asks. Casz just looks at him annoyed, and without saying anything, she hands him her lighter. “Quite a night, huh?”
“Hey. I already gave you what you wanted, it's not for you to make small talk.” Casz says, a little irritated.
“Wow, I'm sorry. I just thought you might like some company. It's dangerous to be alone at night, especially in a bar.” Turner comments.
“Why? Could I find more guys like you? I know how to handle myself”. Casz replies, curtly. She lets out a last smoky sigh, flicking the cigarette butt and stomping on it. “Anyway, I have to go, I have classes tomorrow,” Casz says, walking away.
“At least let me drive you home.”
She answers without saying a word to him.
Why Not Just Be Solo
(Part 06)
FULL NOVEL SOON
2024
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