“Kill me.” He had to, and he needed to do it now if he was gonna do it at all because this was his only chance. If I got up, I’d defend Sheila to the death. Theirs or mine, didn’t much matter which. “Kill me now, Growly Gus. If you don’t, I’ll kill you all for even thinking about hurting my best bitch, Sheila.”
“Who the actual fuck is Sheila?” The muffled quality of the voice led me to believe it was Grabby Guy who asked since I bashed his nose. I snarled like the feral wolf girl I was at heart.
“You were going to rape and pillage her, and you don’t even know her name when you hear it? Pig!”
Mr. Fancy Bat limped into my line of sight. “Are you talking about the bloody van?” He looked at me like I was crazy. He ain’t seen my crazy yet.
“Her name is Sheila, you twatface! We were out here glamping, minding our own damn business, when you lot rolled up uninvited. And you didn’t even bring a camping spot housewarming gift like marshmallows to roast! Instead, you threatened to take Sheila against her will and strip her! Perverts!” My eyes welled with tears, both the angry kind and the sad kind. No one deserved a fate like that.
I heard a loud sigh from behind me, and a certain Growly Gus muttered, “Jesus Christ, she’s touched in the head. I don’t have time for this shit.” Then I felt a sharp crack on my head, and everything went kaleidoscopic before blackness ate my vision. Getting knocked out was pretty.
I came back to consciousness to find my arms tied behind me and my legs zip-tied to a metal chair that was bolted to the floor. I groaned, rolling my head from side to side to ease the crick in my neck and trying not to throw up from the pounding ache in my head. I surveyed the room I was in, and it looked like someone ordered a dungeon from Wish.com. Not the sexy kind either; the dank, smelly kind. The walls were made of cinderblocks, a chain with a hook on it hung a few feet from where I sat, and the fluorescent lights in the ceiling flickered occasionally. My discount dungeon was equipped with a security camera, one of the only nice things in the entire space other than me. Obviously.
I winked at the camera and figured if I had an audience, I was honor bound as a guest to provide entertainment. That was how bards used to do it; they’d sing and tell stories, and their hosts would feed them and give them nice rooms to sleep in. I was down for a snack, so I quickly shuffled through a few of my favorite songs in my head and decided on “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey. Everyone loved this song.
About halfway through the second verse, I heard a door open, and three men trooped down a handful of cinderblock stairs and into the dungeon. I kept singing, really giving it my all. I was so good I thought for a second the men were going to burst into applause as soon as my last note faded, but instead of clapping, they just stared at me. Well, there was no accounting for taste, I guess. The man who came down the stairs first grabbed a folding chair from where it had been leaning against the wall and sat a few feet away from me. He was probably six feet tall, but it was hard to tell from my seated position. He had a head full of silver hair that had been combed back like a 1950s greaser and a matchingsilver van dyke beard. His face was all hard lines and harsh angles, and his icy-blue eyes took me in as I evaluated him. He looked like a man who’d whittled away any softness he might contain over time until all that was left was the hard parts and sharp edges.
The other two men stood behind him, and I recognized Growly Gus and Grabby Guy from our scuffle. Growly looked a lot like the Silver Fox, but he had dark hair and a scruffy five o’clock shadow instead of the van dyke. The eyes were the same bright icy blue, though. Grabby had a darker complexion and cotton stuck up his nose to stop the bleeding from when I smashed it. His dark hair was cropped close to his head, and he had deep chocolate-brown eyes. Silver Fox cracked his knuckles and asked in a voice that was rough like sandpaper, “You know where you are, girl?”
I smirked. He was gonna have to ask tougher questions like that if he wanted to stump me. “Of course, I know where I am, silly. I’m in your bargain basement dungeon. Don’t worry, though, I’m not judging. Until last night, I lived in my first favorite alleyway, so don’t feel bad for not having a bougie dungeon. I’m not stuck-up like some people.” Grabby tried to cover his surprised laugh with a cough, but he wasn’t fooling me. I knew I was hilarious.
“You’re wasting your time, prez. She’s got a screw loose, probably just some crackhead who wandered down from Reno and got lost in the desert. Just drop her off at the city limits, and we can scrap her shitty van as a warning that Los Cuervos land is off-limits to outsiders.”
I perked up at that. “I’m not an outsider. I’m definitely inside, and I’d love a cerveza since you brought it up. You know, it’s considered bad manners not to offer your guest a beverage, but I’ll let it go this once.” Grabby rolled his eyes and sighed as he stared at the ceiling. I looked up there just in case he was looking at something cool, but it just looked like a ceiling to me.
“Priest said Los Cuervos chia loca, The Crows, notcerveza. You won’t be getting anything until you tell us who you are and why you were parked on Los Cuervos land.Dios me salve de las locas.”
Now it was my turn to pray to Bob for patience. “Uh, I don’t want to Amerisplain your language to you, Grabby Guy, but I think I know the Spanish word for beer when I hear it.” I leaned in Silver Fox’s directionand politely asked, “Do you want one too, Mr. Silver Fox?” Grabby laugh-coughed again, and Growly/Priest shifted his weight from leg to leg like he was itching to go get those cervezas for us.
“Alright.” Silver Fox ran his hand down his face like he was suddenly tired. “Let’s start over. What’s your name, girl?”
“Girl.”
“I’m sorry, woman. Ma’am. Miss, whatever the fuck. What’s your name?”
I laughed. “Sorry for the confusion. I answered your question the first time. I’ve always been called Girl, or the girl. I don’t have a name, which is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. Everything and everybody deserves a name, don’t you think?” The three men stared at me, slightly taken aback by my answer. I got that a lot; it was because my honesty and awesomeness were a breath of fresh air for most people. I was just happy I could breeze into their lives and sprinkle some truth around like confetti.
Silver Fox was the first to recover. “Uh, right. Okay, well, Girl, do you want to tell us how you ended up parked on club property and why you attacked my men?” Finally! Someone in a position of authority wanted to listen to my side of the story!
“Well, Mr. Silver Fox—”
“It’s Duke, not Silver Fox,” Growly Gus interrupted. He pointed at himself and said, “I’m Priest, and this is Bones.”
“Right. My deepest condolences for the confusion. Anywho, before I was interrupted, I was going to say that I didn’t mean to park on your property, sir. I was tired after burying Hoodie Guy, and it was really dark, so I couldn’t find the road back to Reno. Sheila and I drove around for a long time before I called it quits and decided to make camp for the night. I was rudely woken by the sun this morning, and that’s when these guys and their friends rolled up to our glampsite uninvited. Next thing I know, Priest here threatens to rape and pillage Sheila, and I was compelled to defend her honor. Then I got knocked out and woke up in your…erm…lovelysubterranean workspace. I swear to Bob, that’s the truth.”
Duke scrunched his nose up a bit in confusion and turned slightly to look over his shoulder at Priest. “Who’s Sheila?”
Bones snickered while the muscle in Priest’s jaw ticked from how hard he was clenching it.“Sheila is what she calls the van. She’s weirdly attached to it.”
I gasped, and if I had pearls, I would beclutchingthem right now. Well, if my hands were free, that was. “How dare you, sir? My attachment to Sheila isnotweird! She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Before I met her, I was living in my first favorite alleyway. But van trumps alleyway. Everyone knows that. Once I liberated her from the oppression of Hoodie Guy, we made a pact to always be there for each other. You better hope she’s as perfect as she was when you knocked me out because if there is one single new scratch or dent in her, I’ll dent your face.”
Silv…Duke nodded his head like what I said made perfect sense, which I appreciated because it did make perfectly perfect sense. “Alright, who’s Hoodie Guy?”
“Oh, good story. There I was, in my third favorite alleyway—”
“For fuck’s sake, what’s with you and the alleyways?” Priest interrupted.
I quirked one sassy eyebrow and snapped, “Look here, padre, I don’t know how they rank alleyways where you come from, but where I come from, we use a numerical system with first place being the best, second place the second best, and so on and so forth. I was in the alleyway that won third place in the list of alleyways I’ve been in.”
