s/he: ava stanton

[sister_saviour]

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C'mon ask me. You know you want to. How much, pretty boy?

I was at the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf when it first happened. Edie was rummaging through her purse and babbling on about something when I felt a tug of my belt loop. I come face to face with this fucking suit. I mean, that's what Men are around here. They are what they wear. You've got Hugo Boss and Giorgio Armani. The fancier, one-named numbers like Prada and Gucci. This guy was a Ralph Lauren. They're a different breed entirely. Republican. Yacht Club-style. He's got a boat docked on Catalina Island and a wife too beautiful to knock up. He wants my ass too.

Ask her, I say and tip my head to Edie. By now, she's forgotten what she's looking for and too busy grinning widely at this whole exchange. The suit is notably uncomfortable. He's all shifty-eyed and scratching at his four-hundred dollar haircut.

Twelve fifty an hour, she chirps before snapping her fingers at me. We're next in line and the guy behind the counter isn't keen on waiting too long for my order. There's got to be twenty people behind me. This is how California is. Every coffee shop's got a line out the door but if you're lucky you can be one of the few who has their order waiting every morning. We're too unreliable for that and I order a large coffee. I'm going to need it.

The truth is, being Adam Stanton is a hell of a lot harder than being Ava. In the past eight months since my fateful flight, I've accumulated more contradictions and complications being him than I ever had being her. I've got to work with what I've got and fast. To any random bystander, I'm the common twink. I'm some rich lady's assistant, trotting after her in my tie and dress shoes like a groomed dog. It's money though and you've got to have that to survive here.

Up on the chopping block, you are divided into your useful bits. I'm twelve fifty an hour.

[sister_saviour]

"Fish swim in the ocean and boats were meant to sail in the sea. What can I do? Gotta do what I gotta do --" It was a car crash collision of sound that filled her apartment. The cd spun madly in its stereo and worked its own magic. It was classic soul meets city streets. It made her ache for home. The Brooklyn spirit with its broken windows and double-dutch girls hopping down the street. The smell of taco grease and falafel spice. Bodegas with every magazine and pack of gum she could ever want.

This was Los Angeles though. Her apartment was a one room efficiency in a pink stucco block building. From her window, she had a view of the city in all its early morning glory. The freeways were already bumper to bumper and a few lights glinted dimly off the towtruck that had crunched through the mess to clean up a fender bender off the 405. Beneath, Her Ladyship Ortiz bathed herself in the hard light of peak sun hours. A brown bottle of coppertone sat beside her and the radio played a trilling soprano. The Chavez kids downstairs were raising hell over their breakfast plates until Guapita split open Ava's floorboards with a bellow for peace and order. ?Callente!

She had to move quick. She was already late and the traffic wouldn't be anymore forgiving. Fingers laced the knot of her tie into order before straightening the belt of her second-skin trousers. She was reed-thin and sullen in the reflective surface of the glass panes of her kitchen cabinets. A hand smashed into her hair, but it was no use. The damage had been done long ago, before birth. In a genetic royal flush, the Donovan line had given her unruly dark hair and an even more feral personality.

A pack of cigarettes was scooped off the table and kept in her key heavy hand as she shuffled out the door and locked it behind her. She clattered down the three story walk-up littered with graffiti and package wrappers. At the foot, Bianca caught up with her.

"Adaaaaaam," she sang as she angled over the railings. A plastic garbage back sat at her feet. She was a pretty girl. Dark skinned and hair swinging down her spine. It was loose and curling in the morning heat. Red glints shot off her crown and her eyes were creased with a bright grin. If things had been different, she thought as eyes squinted up at Bianca. "The twins are driving Mami crazy. Will you?"

"Drop it down," Ava said in a low mumble. It was her first Adam duty of the day and she slipped into the persona easily now. It had been months since she moved to the West Coast and tumbled into her double life. Cigarettes were jammed into her back pocket and keys were bitten between front teeth to free up the lift of her hands. Fingers twitched into her palms.

The plastic bag shot down the levels and hit Adam's hands hard. He grimaced and adjusted the squishing bag into his grip. Free hand lifted in a salute to the clapping Bianca. "Adios."

It was just another day in the life of Adam Stanton.

[sister_saviour]

Just a little something to warm the blood, Liv said as she poured the whiskey into a set of glasses. It was seven-thirty in the morning and Sam was gumming on cheerios in his high chair, but that didn't seem to faze her as she lifted one glass and kept the other for herself. The woman took a sip, sighed, and turned her head to watch the fuzzy-headed boy babble and drool oat bits.

The whiskey burned Ava's sour stomach, but she didn't refuse a gift from the woman. Instead, she drained it off like a shot and smeared the plush of her mouth with knuckles. She grunted with appreciation as the glass was placed in the sink. Thanks.

That woman from California got you all bothered? You look like shit.

Ava sniffed and smeared her palm into a tired eye. It wasn't something she wanted to discuss particularly, but knew the questions would only dig deeper if she didn't cough up something for Liv. The woman was waiting, expectant and a hand tipping at her waist. In a way, she reminded her of Edie. A happier, mouthier Edie. How did Jude like, win you over, she asked.

Ah shit, Liv laughed. Jude got lucky. Them girls won me over. I'm such a fucking sucker. It's really pathetic. You hear that Sam? Don't let your daddy make you think that I was just one of them dumb dancers he's got up his sleeve that got lucky. It was him. All him.

I want to be lucky.

Liv softened and reached out to smooth a hand down the slant of Ava's cheek. She sighed, tongue clucking out a good note. You're real lucky, Ava. I shouldn't even fucking talk to you after you did what you did to Emily. Fucking lousy thing to lead a girl on. I'm a little glad you've got yourself wrapped around this whole lost cause thing going on.

What?

It ain't gonna work. I know them when I see them. Jake and Linc, Michael and Harlen. Shit, Lucy and Seven even. They got the real deal going on. This just something to make you human. Man upstairs got himself a real fine sense of humor, she chuckled as she took another sip of her whiskey and reached for a tea towel. Her amusement deepened into a husky laugh as Sam howled and buckled miserably against the sweep of the towel across his messy face. Hush you, she said as the glass was handed back to Ava. The girl was good at getting rid of evidence.

So, I'm just wasting my time then?

Uh huh, she said with a confident nod of her head as the chubby toddler was hoisted from his high chair. She let him scamper off in his footed pajamas with a swat at his backside. Get.

What am I supposed to do, Liv?

Right your wrongs, get right with all that shit, and figure out who you really is. You a hood like Jude? You a man, a woman, neither? You gonna go back to school or not. Figure out yourself girl because fucking ain't gonna do the thinking for you.

Ava sighed, sagging against the counter with a hand smoothing over the sleek granite top of the counter. It was cold in her palm, subtly vibrating from the roar of the refrigerator. It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but then again, she had grown used to disappointment. I really like her, she said. It just isn't -- We're not hitting a good place. I mean, we've got nothing in common and all we do is bitch. I fucked her last night and it felt so good because for the first time in ages, I felt like we were like, equals and that I was doing the right thing.

Girl, even your Uncle could only get so far with the fucking.

And how are you so happy, Ava asked.

I get a lot of ass, Liv crowed with a roll of her eyes as she brushed past Ava. The whiskey was hidden back in its shelf and she rinsed glasses clean. A drawer opened and she thumbed open a tin to place a mint on her tongue. Good as new.