can't we just pretend? - lani stanton.

[secondhand_stars]

<center>and you know this is madness
a lilac mess in your prom dress
and you say:
i guess i'm an underwater thing
( there's a sea secret in me.)

tori amos - liquid diamonds</center>

<center></center>

The postmodern world was filled with urban sirens that sang the unsuspecting to shipwreck with their songs and other myths that had formed steel and concrete shells to hide their true origins. Here, Truman Capote was revisited and the girl -- Lani Donovan had been all too willing to play his darling, Holly Golightly. Her world had been a shallow pool of glitter and glam where housepets indeed, for a change, had names in ode to punk rock legends and yesteryear on King's Crossing. Existence was spun from the turn of vintage vinyl and a dream-world just out of touch. Chemicals and lies spun a delirium so close to religious ecstasy that she fell prey to that downward spiral. Still, it was nothing that couldn't be cured by a trip by the unblemished monument that was Tiffany's and Co. in the early morning with a white paper bag in hand.

Her beauty was unconventional at best. Chaos and conflict was the palette that had been so masterfully used until the finished product was a study in asymmetry and the surreal. One eye was blue while the other shone like broken green-glass against pavement. To her, there was no open order or pattern. Rather, she was everything kinetic and undone. Sprawling with cowlicked hair and a mad-girl grin, she had never learned those clever games and sleights of hand that survivors of the underground addiction mastered so quickly. Instead, heart and all else were worn like pretty charms and baubles upon tiny wrists and ankles.

The world had changed so quickly, and her with it. The heart of the West Village and force in and of herself, soon found her trading in vices and other wild-child ways for an unexpected womanhood. Like a butterfly, she sloughed off the rainbow-smeared shell of her New Wave revolution for something far more calm and steady. The things she feared most were now what she depended on: order, routine, and most of all, love. Love was a band of white gold and the nail-scarred palms that smoothed down her hair. A yang to her tempestuous and whim-driven yin. It was a strange sort-of fairy-tale, but one that she could undoubtedly call her own.

Reborn into a world of cartoon super-heroes and scandalous martini midnights, she played the glittering partner-in-crime to the january arsonists.

<center></center>

<center>steady as it comes
right down to you
i've said it all
so maybe we're a bliss
of another kind

tori amos - bliss</center>

[secondhand_stars]

[previously posted January 28, 2004]


Sprawled across her bed, Lani Donovan stared blankly up at the flocks of tiny paper birds that hung down from rafters above her. As if by some mysterious force, a few spun in lazy circles. She sighed low and sent the feet that dangled off bed to kick.

Earlier.

You would have thought with Lani's father being European, he would have embraced the leisurely lunch-stylings of his ancestors. Instead, he sat rigidly in his seat and efficiently began clearing his plate as soon as it was placed before him. Lani watched him eat, picking at her own food.

"So, how are you doing?" James Donovan asked, wiping at the edge of his mouth with a cloth napkin.

"Good. I've been really busy, you know -- Deadlines."

There were little physical or personality similiarities between the father and daughter. At heart, they were both clever minds with a passion for music and time-games. As pale and tailored as James was, Lani was dark and free-form. From him, though, she had inherited the family's genetic quirk: two mismatched eyes that blinked across the table at him sweetly.

"You've done well." He nodded. Despite his fears and doubts, she had. "I was wanting to talk to you about that though --"

"Hm?" She questioned, chewing carefully.

James leaned back into the cushioned chair, hands folded neatly over his chest as elbows balanced upon arm-rests. It was a strangely casual pose for the stern man. "You need to take a vacation."

"Can't." She paused, reaching across to pick up her glass of water. Taking a sip, she then shook her head wildly. "I have a million things to do."

"You must. You look exhausted. Plus, the next quarter will be absolutely insane so I need to you rested. Here --" He stopped, making an absent gesture with a hand before lifting fingers up to scratch upon a cheek. "Take two weeks and if I need you, I can always call. Right?"


So, here she was... At a complete loss of what to do with herself. Sighing, she rolled into an upright-sit and watched as Sid attacked one of her old stilettos. He growled, shaking the strappy shoe back and forth before dragging it across the slick hardwood floor. Lani laughed, shaking her head at the dog.

Slowly standing, she wandered around the room to collect jacket and shove feet into a pair of shoes. As fingers worked the wide buttons, Sid paused and scampered towards her. With a crooked grin, she leaned down to scoop the dog in her arms. "A walk will do us both good, hm?"

[secondhand_stars]

[previously posted February 05, 2004]

Silence.


It was a strange fit for the apartment, like a coat that was only minutely too small around the shoulders. Dropping off back-pack and purse upon the circle of kitchen table, she saw a note in Scarlet's quick-pace scribble: All clear for take-off. The kid is staying with Steph and Ira while I'm on my shoot. I come back in a week, so let's have dinner then. I want to meet the runaways and your partner in crime. Love, S.

What had once been a gypsy-haven with it's soft, artistic center was now simply a wide-open space with red-brick walls and a set of windows along one wall that opened up to an enviable cityscape view. It was foreign, though Lani had lived in the apartment for the past six years. Her fingers ran along the edge of things: an end-table that she forgot had been wedged against couch, the stretch of bookcase housing compact discs from ceiling to floor-space. It was so beautiful and empty that the flat, in combination with fatigue, brought tears to the faery-child's eyes. She hated the silence. Thumbing through a few jewel cases, she selected a cd and shoved it into cd player. She zoomed through the tracks selecting a song before escaping up the winding metal staircase that led up to loft. Lani was determined to have it cleaned -- and with some sort of storage space available -- before Lucy and Charlie showed.

Her room was a wonderland with it's multicolored scarves and origami paper birds hanging down with their bent wings from rafters. East met west and somehow crash-landed into a rainbow, but the effect was eccentric and lovely rather than garish -- Much like it's owner. Clothes were quickly folded away into armoire and shoes placed back within the boxes that hid within a notch of a closet against red-brick. When she was finished, an exhausted girl curled up upon made bed and stared out. Much like the silent living space below, the loft was somehow stranger to her. Fingers itched to call Asher's and beg the couple to come over, but she waited instead.

The phone rang, sending Lani to launch herself at it. Picking up receiver, she folded down upon worn velveteen chaise. "Hello?"

"FINALLY. I have been looking everywhere for you, girl! Don't you know what today is? Oh no! You forgot! I told Ira you'd forget. I knew you would. And he didn't believe me. I told him to send a car for you, but oh no! Mister Big-Shot was too busy. Did I te--"

"Steph, breathe!" Lani cackled into the phone, still oblivious to the missed appointment with Stephanie's dressmaker. Leaning against the curled arm of the lounge, she sighed. "First things first, is the kid there?"

"What?" A pause. "Oh, yeah! Well. He's not there-there right now, he's at school."

"Good."

"Okay, back to the issue at hand! I just got a call from Mary saying that you never showed for the fitting. She said that my sisters all made it, but you were a no show? Where have you been? I called your office and some Richard guy was all, Not here, so on vacation and then just like, hung up. What the hell? You need a better receptionist."

"He's my partner, not my secretary, but -- Oh!" And suddenly her brain processed the information that spilled out across phone-line and drowned ears. She shrank in then, her expression mournful. "I'm sorry! I forgot! I spent the night at Asher's and then Charlie and Lucy came over. And they need a place to stay so that's why I had to clear out the place because it's got to be quiet for them. And I--" Quite suddenly, her own mouth had fallen under the spell of rambler's tongue.

"WHAT?" Stephanie shrieked before voice turned deceptively calm again. Lani could already hear her pen scratching against notepad. "Do you know how much it's costing me to have Mary do all the dresses? Lani, I'm making an appointment for next week and I want you there. I'm going to have a driver come by and escort you there."

"Sounds like a plan."

"It's more than a plan. It's my life. And until I'm on my honeymoon, it's yours too because I've waited for four years for this and god help me if you or ira try to screw it up because you two can't keep track of time." She paused again. "I'm sorry. Here, as a token of my friendship I won't even begin to ask why you are spending the night with a guy and who Lucy and Charlie are and why I don't know them."

"Gee. What a pal." Lani snickered, rubbing at the back of her neck.

"Well, you know I want to ask."

"Of course you do!"

"Especially about the first part, because you know --"

"Well, it's not what you think so don't you worry your pretty little head about it!" Lani crooned into the phone, trying not to laugh at Steph.

"What does he do fo--"

"I think you should have purple dresses for the bridesmaids." Lani blurted out. Deflect, deflect.

"What?" Steph bellowed, taking the bait.

[secondhand_stars]

[previously posted January 24, 2004 and February 9, 2004]

Dear Michael,
Unless you come home, I am going to file for a divorce. I don't know how exactly you divorce your brother, but well... I'm going to check into it with legal and they'll know!

Worse yet, I'll break all your sad little boy records and set fire to the first edition copy of A Moveable Feast you have. I know you keep it in the drawer next to your bed, so there. Or really, I'll just threaten to have and hide them so you won't be able to find them.

Anyway. I love you. I miss you. I'm tired of being by myself.

Love,
Lani.


P.S. You can bring that girl back if you like, but if she starts trying to rape you in the bar then you are totally on your own.

--

Dear Michael,

Today, I watched this really scary movie. It was about these two girls who traveled to Thailand and got busted for drugs! But it was totally a set-up because this Australian guy tried to make moves on both of the girls. Anyway! Please check all your bags before you go anywhere. I'll cry if you get locked away in jail forever and I have to come visit with bras stuffed with money (or boxers? I don't know! It's just what a friend did in the movie.) Better yet, come home. I miss you.

This is week one of my two week vacation. I'm tired of it already. I like my office. I like my clients. And that's something that only like 1% of the music business can honestly say. Jump is fixing to kick off his tour. It's mainly small venues on the East Coast and in Europe, but it'll totally rock. His album has done well in small circles. You know how hard it is to market underground heroes. Or you don't, but you can totally imagine.

Charlie and Lucy have been staying with me! It's been great even if it's weird to have a couple in the apartment. They are getting married. You'll have to be back for the big event.

xoxo,
Lani.

P.S. I met somebody.

--

Yolanda,

I promise that I'll check all my things regularly, but don't worry -- The only people who have been trying to make moves on me are drag queens and prostitutes. I'm perfectly safe from all drug-dealing Australians. Spain is wonderful though. I love it. You should come visit while you are on vacation, unless...

You know I'm really mad at you. You leave me hanging with your little post-script. I shouldn't have even responded, but well, I want to know what this is all about. So instead, I'm just going to use your first name as a bit of cruel-love. Spill.

Your brother,
Michael.

--

Yes, yes. Let's all make fun of my name together, Miguel. Whee. Good times! (I hate you.) And no, I won't visit you in Madrid. I heard it's dirty and congested. I can have all that here at home. Plus, I've been visiting Mom a lot and I think she's starting to respond to me. It's just a feeling.

So about this somebody. He's really awesome! He lives in this little narrow place with a purple bathroom. And he has Winnie-the-Pooh bubble bath. Which I think is great, if I don't think too much about it. He makes breakfast too. A librarian. His name is Asher. And he's so British. Like Dad except not so formal. I make him twitch sometimes too!

Sid is trying to eat my shoes, so I better go walk him.

Love,
Lani.

p.s. COME HOME.

--

You must really miss me to be trading in your string of pretty boy musicians and bohos for a British librarian. Not just a librarian. A British one. Maybe he can get your cd collection into some sort of order. I kid! I know you totally have that all alphabetized and categorized in a freakishly scary sort of way. And yes, I recommend you not think too much about his use of kiddie shampoo (It was shampoo right?)Or the purple bathroom. Both scare me a little and I'm an ocean away.

I'll be home soon. And send my regards to Charlie and Lucy.

M.

[secondhand_stars]

[previously posted February 14, 2004]

As if an afterthought to the general design, a guest room had been added on. If her loft was wonderland, this was most definitely some sort of alternate rabbit's hole. Sunlight stanted and squeezed to fit through the space between horizontal blinds, slowly filling the room with it's deceptively warm light. The city outside the slip of a window was bitterly cold and threatening another snow. However, she was protected in her little cocoon of blankets and limbs. Sighing softly, Lani didn't dare move. Instead she stared down the length of the narrow room at the boxes that lined up against brick facade. Inside were the contents of a life less permanent and adolescent. She watched dust dance in the light that filtered over her. Anything, but him. If only to suspend the reality in it's safe dimensions. Like this, she drifted in and out of sleep until the sounds of Charlie preparing for work hummed next door.


Fist catching at yawn, she twisted around to face him. Reopening eyes, she blinked and caught a half dozen portraits of him -- bit snap-shots in slowly forming clarity. She didn't wake him, but instead, simply watched as mouth moved in silent murmurs. Then, nuzzling chin into his shoulder, mumbled a quick, I'm going to get breakfast.

Unlike him, she didn't cook. Slipping out from beneath sheets, she padded around bed and found a mix-and-match of her clothes in a rainbow spill of fabric across a small arm-chair. Shoving on jeans, she covered the bloodstains that smeared down shoulders with a sweater. The look was deceptively mild, but perfect for a McDonald's run.

Blowing a kiss to Charlie in passing, fingers grabbed keys and purse before she snuck out into the late-morning chill.

[secondhand_stars]

[previously posted February 14, 2004]

"Hello, my dear!" Lani trilled as she squeezed past him and inside. In a state of half-sleep, Michael simply stared out into the hallway a moment longer before closing door behind them both. Yawning into a palm, he padded over to where Lani was unloading a half dozen styrofoam and plastic pieces. Catching his confused expression, she explained. "I brought breakfast. You need to eat. You came home all skinny and dark. I'm jealous of both really, but the whole skinny-boy look isn't working."

"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, but thanks." Michael laughed, scratching at the skin of his chest. Falling into a kitchen chair, lanky legs sprawled out in front of him. "I've been meaning to talk to you..."

"And I, to you. Coincidence? Never!" She crooned as a set of white ceramic dishes were brought out to be set upon plainspun placemats. Lani smiled against the novelty of Michael's apartment. It was so... home-like. He really was the bachelor's version of Martha Stewart. Or the straight black-sheep of the Fab Five.

"I am not!" He grumbled, straightening plate in front of him. "It's all Anna's stuff."

"I didn't say a word..." Lani countered, sing-song. "Not a word at all."

"You never have to." Michael offered a vague smile, reaching over to jab a fork into the skin of pancake and transferring it over to his plate. "You first. What did you have to talk to me about."

"Two things actually." She sat down across from him, staring out over the spread. Teeth caught at the corner of her mouth absently. "One, you need to help Asher. Two, he isn't up to no good! He said you thought he was."

"No." A pause."I didn't think he was up to no good. I think you are."

Lani gasped, but said nothing. Instead, they loaded their plates and ate in silence. Rather, Lani did. Michael's thoughts pounded not only with her grumblings, but those of a good section of the buildings. Sending head to angles, it shook as if he was clearing ears of water. Finally, lowering fork, he laced fingers together. "Lani, you know how this goes..."

Silent now, she simply stared at her brother.

He wasn't quite sure where to begin, instead jaws worked silently and pale green eyes spiraled up to the ceiling for a moment. "You get scared. And the effect is throwing a cat into a tub of water." This was the difficult part, the words. "I know how things are going to end up for you, but it's the between I worry about. It's the between that I can't see clearly."

"Well, don't bother." Fork twirled around in the fluffy bed of marbled yellow and white eggs. She frowned, bottom lip jutting out and eyebrows furrowed deep. "Things are different from that time. You know better than anyone else. It's been two years."

"Just.. Have mercy, Lan."

She gave him a salute, fingers touching brow. Michael had a way with words and that way was ultimately bizarre. Have mercy, what a strange thing to leave her with. She cut away a bite of pancake and spun imagination around a half dozen scenarios.

"And I'll help him, if he'll let me." Michael added. Always one for the silver lining, he offered an absent grin. Fingers scratched at the scruff that clung to neck and the underside of jaw. "You had a hard night, didn't you?"

"He started rattling off about this chick I sat with at the bar." Lani's eyes grew wide as she stared down at her plate. "And bleeding. I think the bleeding was the least of it though. He said that God didn't want him seeing me anymore."

"Bleeding?"

"His hands." A pause. "I wrapped them up really tight with this gauze I found in the medicine cabinet. It was a good thing I had it."

Michael laughed, head falling low as shoulders arched. "I kept wondering when it'd come in handy. A few months ago I had this horrible urge to buy you gauze. And toothpaste?"

"Toothpaste is long gone, baby." Lani laughed, despite the nerves that still prickled sensitive at the memory of last night.

"But, God doesn't want him seeing you huh?" His nose wrinkled, eyes blinking away mischief as he looked up again. "Smart guy."

Lani only stuck her tongue out at Michael. "Unlike some people."

[secondhand_stars]

[previously posted February 24, 2004]

The city still slept easily beneath the blanket of a bruised-colored sky and fade-screen of stars. Few buildings were lit, and only in random design at that, when she woke. Murmuring incoherently and snuggling close into the warm-fit of the body next to her, Lani watched the picture that the long stretch of window screened in. Her head hummed with headache and mouth was dried out until all that remained was the sour aftertaste of wine upon tongue. The scene was a comical one, she discovered as eyes adjusted to the dimness of living room. In one corner, River slept in a gangly pile of Teenaged Mutant Turtle swathed limbs. His Flash helmet remained upon head, masking comic-book features and glowing red. Charlie and Lucy were moreso a unit than anything else across the way. She couldn't make out who was who, save for Lucy's jagged cap of newly-stained hair. And beside her, Asher slept soundly -- Which was a rare thing, she had come to realize. Lani blamed the wine with a hoarse snicker as she pressed a kiss to his forehead and then scrambled up from their pillow.

Upstairs, she retreated into her second-world. It was one as familiar as the one below, but composed of entirely different elements. This was a world of manila files, demo tape masterpieces, and advertisement spreads. Collapsing into a scarf wrapped swivel chair, she sighed and tapped bare heels against floorboards as computer started up. Her phone lit up then, ringer on silent, but screen glowing bright against the dark loft. Thumb pressed against a button and Lani was whispering a quick, Hello?

"'Eeeeello, m'love!" Jump howled, adopting a very Jaggeresque accent. Behind him, music screamed and voices crushed. "London callin', doncha know?"

"You should be resting your voice." Lani murmured, catching phone between cheek and shoulder. Hands were free now to peel away the nicotine patch that had been stuck upon bicep. Flicking it into the trash-can, fingers pinched out a new one from it's rectangular box.

"Oh yeah? Maybe take a vacation? A two-week one?" Jump laughed. "I was heartbroken you know. I thought you'd come with me and we'd conquer the world together."

"I'm still trying to conquer New York, baby?" Lani yawned, pressing new patch to where old one had been. That done, she was free to allow nicotine to slowly seep through skin and work to begin. The screen glowed blue, casting her in an alien light with hair matted to the curve of scalp and ramones' tee rumpled.

"It's not to late to hop a plane. You should take the company one in true rockstar fashion." Jump was plotting as glass shatted behind him. He cursed, the words lost in telephone wires and Iggy Pop soundtrack. "Okay, back again. Right. Come, come, come."

"I can't, can't, can't." Lani laughed, browsing through her e-mail. "You aren't my only client, you know. I have others."

Jump gasped.

"Maybe I'll spend a few days in London. After you've gone through Germany and uhm, whereever we lined you up."

"We've got Amsterdam, this little club in Oslo, and damn -- I can't remember! That's why I neeeeeed you here."

"You don't need me. Don't you like Hal?"

"Hal, the tour pal!" Jump crooned with a laugh. "Yeah. But he's all uptight."

"Fine. I'll fly in, in ten days. For one."

"Because you love me and cannot live without me."

Lani snickered, fingers lifting from keyboard to rub against the back of her hair. "Something like that, Jump."

"Oh, so shy." A pause. "--Too shy."

"I'm sorry, but -- It's too early for Kajagoogoo, so I'm going to have to let you go."

"Break a boy's heart, Lani Donovan. Fine." He sulked playfully. Again, glass shattered and sent him to distraction. "Fine-fine-fine. Bye, love!" And the phone-line clicked to dial-tone.

[secondhand_stars]

[previously posted February 26, 2004]

It was the same scene recycled over and over until lines were worn into the face of things and corners were bent dull. She sat at the edge of her bed, hands folded neatly in front of her, and eyes staring out to no-where.

The room was as anonymous as a hospital or motel room with its simple furniture pieces and nondescript walls and floor. They had attempted to make it more... homelike, if only for their own good. She did not care. Pictures she did not look at sat in a neat row of frames. Curtains she did not open for herself, scarlet against the mute white of the walls. Upon a bed that she had not once made, sheets were red-red-roses against white sateen.

Lani pocketed hands within trench coat slits as she gave a nod to her mother's personal nurse, Amelia. Amelia had become as familiar as an aunt. For the past twenty years, she had taken care of Mireya. Amelia had grown from a slim, red haired woman fresh out of nursing school to a matronly, white-streaked hair mother of four and grandmother of one. Still, somethings had never changed -- like able hands and the smattering of freckles upon the tops of them. Amelia smiled back, gesturing for Lani to stop. "How are you, my dear?"

"Not bad." Lani grinned, fingers touching at the shaggy overgrowth of her hair. She was in desperate need of a trim, but didn't want to sacrifice the length. "How about yourself, Amelia?"

"Oh you know," she murmured. Fingers were busily transforming a ball of yarn into scarf in candy striped shades of white and aquamarine. "Things never change around here."

"No, they don't." A frown and loss of words. Mismatched eyes swung over to where mother's door stood. "I'm going to go see her now."

"Okay, dearie. Nice talking to you."


Lani stumbled away them, escaping into the strange comfort of her mother's world. Mireya sat, as she always did, upon her bed and hands wove a strange net in her lap. The faery-child could only sigh, looking back to where Amelia knitted before padding across room. While Amelia had aged, her mother had not. Twenty years were little more than the tiniest of lines upon the edge of her mother's slanted eyes and streaks of gray winding through thick hair. Her hair, it was a black flag that hung in gentle waves from crown all the way down to mid-waist. Her father wouldn't allow them to cut it. In fact, he wouldn't allow anything to be done that she had not done herself in animation.

"Mami," Lani breathed and settled next to the woman. She grabbed one of her mother's hands, settling it between the two of hers. Her mother was beautifully dark, a Moorish Princess with clever eyes even in their still and a ripe mouth. Mireya Alba Manuelita Maria Del Valle had been born in southern Spain as wild and tempestuous baby to an already impressive flock of girls. It was only in the cold and gray of England that she had withered away. Schizophrenia, they said as legal pads and prescription prompts were filled. Schizophrenia to explain the voice, the madness, the hysteria. However, Lani knew better -- As did Michael, whose voice was the one that mother had heard within those late months of pregnancy and from infant mouth and... Father refused to believe their theory, pointing to brain scans and chemical levels. Neither were brave enough to prove their own hypothesis. Not yet. Lani's mind still plotted and spun wildly with possibility.

"Mami, it's me. I thought I'd come say hello before I left. I'm leaving for a business trip in awhile -- To London. I'll make sure to stop by Uncle Julian and Aunt Helen's and bring back a million funny stories to tell you. You always did think they were absolutely neurotic. In fact, if I see something that makes me think of you, I'll bring that back too. I know you used to always wear those heavy enamel bangles that you can get at that little stand in the market. I'll bring you back some of those." Fingers danced up the thin line of her wrist, tickling unresponsive skin. "When I get back, we'll work on getting you better. I have an idea and just maybe it'll work! I'll talk to Michael later, bring him up and maybe we'll know for sure. He's so afraid to see you. He always has been. He thinks it's his fault, but I don't know --" Maybe it was Mireya's fault. Maybe if she had been somehow different, she would have never descended into this. Lani shook her head, cheeks flushing guiltily with that thought.

Leaning over, she pressed a kiss to her mother's cheek and returned hand to lap. "I've got to go, but maybe I'll see you just once more before I leave. Take care."

Standing, Lani fled the room and private hospital that housed it before eyes could sting from the sterile smells of plastic and catatonia.

[secondhand_stars]

[previously posted February 29, 2004]

After it was more or less over, Lani slowly helped him up the winding stairs that led to loft and into her bed. It. How did one begin to describe what she witnessed not once, but twice now? How did it translate into reality from the dusty pages of religious experience? Lani shook with emotional fatigue as she tucked him in, beneath the layers of sheets and comforter. Sitting beside him until he stilled into a sound sleep, she only stared at her hands.

Her hands, his blood. Whose blood? It looked like Asher's, but ran like Christ's. Lani was so wholly unprepared for this. When had she last even attended a mass, much less poured out her sins and misdeeds into the ears of a priest? When had she last prayed? No -- She stopped then, No. That one was easy. She prayed now. She prayed for things to stay the same though she could feel the shifting of tides. They lived upon a world of sand, this faery-band did.

Lifting out of her spot next to him, Asher murmured something indecipherable and shifted to his side -- The uninjured one. Her stomach turned in remembrace of that crudely formed slash. Padding towards the bathroom, hands smoothed down the front of her smudged t-shirt. Luckily like his wounds, they would all fade away soon enough.

The water ran pink into the bowl of sink as she washed away the blood that had dried in streaks and pools upon olive skin. Lani watched with intense interest as droplets splashed against porcelain and then swirled down drain. She tried to still her mind and spirit. She...

Her phone rang then in a clattering noise that only broke the spell. She startled, snapping faucet off and bounding across bedroom to catch the phone before it rang again and Asher woke from it.

"Hello?" She murmured low, blue and green eyes shifting to where he dreamt on. She shifted the phone to the other ear as Michael responded with his own greeting. "Michael." The name was breathed gratefully.

"What's wrong, Lan?" He asked, concern visible in his tone.

"It's just been... A long day."

"Mm."

Lani sank into a puddle of angled out limbs then, skin scraping painfully against the brick facade that ran alongside nightstand. A forearm fell against the top of her knee and fingers cradled a portion of her forehead. "You've never... Bled spontaneously, have you? I don't remember, but."

"No. I haven't. I -- It's not the same at all." Michael sighed. "Are you okay? Do you need me?"

"No! I'm fine! I just... It's not fair."

"No. It's not. But when was life fair, Lani?"

"Never." Toes dug into the freshly waxed skin of hardwood floors.

"Exactly." A pause and Lani could hear Michael's voice treading with a sort of care that only made her skin crawl. She knew that tone. She knew it all too well. "But it could be worse. He's fine now, isn't he? He's there. Just, remember that."

Lani felt her insides ache again. Catching something thick in her throat, she murmured into the mouth of the telephone her greatest fear. "Because something is going to happen, isn't it? I hear it in your voice. Goddammit Michael, why do you have to warn me? It always just makes me worry and wonder and wait for something to fall on my head."

"Because I love you," was the only explanation that Michael could give to his sister.

[secondhand_stars]

[previously posted March 02, 2004]

Upon conquering the much-coveted corner office, Lani and Richard had set to redecorate the drab, unremarkable space. It had windows that stretched in an "L-" shape that occupied the better part of two walls, but left the other two in their eggshell white seem pathetically dull.

Creative styles clashing, the office was a mix of the cool, feng shui and vintage-glam. His and her touches from floor to ceiling and in between. The massive, intimidating desk of a former executive had been traded out for two drafting desks with their slanted tops and metal angles. They sat nose-to-nose, much like the two that occupied the space. Richard worked quietly, switching between laptop and file. In the afternoon sun, the curve of his head shone like an egg. Lani laughed at this, feeling immediately guilty for associating the two afterwards. He looked up, blinking as if lost from behind rectangular glasses. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing. Just thinking of something." Lani said, biting at the corner of her lip. Sighing, arms splayed over the papers that littered her desk and eyes were sent into skyline "I need a cigarette."

"I thought you quit."

"I did." The faery-child mumbled, diving back into work.

Again, silence ruled until Richard yawned and lifted arms at angles in a stretch. Lifting out of his chair, he wandered over to where couches angled in and created their home-away-from-home atmosphere. Rifling through a library of cd cases, fingers found the sleek disc of one. He stared at the face a moment and sending rainbows to scatter before loading it into cd tray.

"Belle and Sebastian?" Lani smiled, leaning into a palm and sending fingers to coil through her hair. "This is a good album."

"It is. I love them."

"I know you do. We spent the entire last campaign listening to Tigermilk." Swivel seat was sent to spin then. Slowly she revolved around and let all the lines blur. When chair creaked to a slow, painful stop, a hand lifted to press against her forehead.

"You okay?" He frowned, settling down in his seat in front of her again.

"Yeah. Just had a shitty weekend, that's all."

"I was going to ask about that -- I saw an article in the paper. I thought -- Well." He turned silent, rifling through things for the flattened paper. Grimacing vaguely, it was handed over. "Isn't this your friend?"

It was a tiny article, nearly nothing at all. The only memorable thing in it a single name: Charles Cavanaugh. The rest, including alleged victim and situation, was foreign to her. She shuddered, shoving the paper back. "It's all a really fucked up mistake, Rich'."

"Mm." Fingers coiled around the rattled newsprint, sending it into the wastebin beside him. He shook his head then, diving into something very important upon the computer screen. "I'm sure it is. You're too.. soft to have friends like that."

"Soft!" She scoffed, turning to humor for comfort. Lani gave a little fist pump and Billy Idolesque snarl. "Whatever man. I'm hard-core."

"Oh yes. You'll rule Kings Street."

"Home of Punk Rock." Lani added proudly.

"When are you leaving?"

"Soon." She turned unsure. Could she leave Lucy? Maybe... Suddenly thoughts flooded over and mouth was left dry. He was talking, but ears couldn't translate. Lani could only watch his mouth move until everything caught up.

Fast-forward: there was a rip of sound. "...I saw you won't be traveling alone. Don't tell me your dad is going with you. That would just be --" Weird?

"What? Are you kidding? My dad is all twitchy and awkward for hours after lunch with me. He isn't ready for a full-blown family vacation."

"So, why the extra ticket? Don't tell me you bought it for Sid."

"No. I got a baby-sitter for him. It's for..." Lani trailed off, fingers twirling in a strand of her dark hair. She weighed her options before testing out this new little experiment. "It's for my boyfriend."

Richard was clearly thrown off-guard. Nearly flipping pen out of his hands, he looked up at her again and blinked wildly. "Your what...?"

Lani could only howl and send chair to spin again. The reaction was almost as fun as the truth.