"... But if Mother caught me giving them to Wil, she'd kill us both, of course." I finish.
Cleopatra's dark eyes are on me more than the road, an action that scares me.
"So what you're saying is you gave some of your songs to Wil who must've posted them?"
"Yes!" I exclaim, exasperated with the whole situation.
"You mean there are songs that aren't posted yet?"
"Yes?" I answer hesitantly, unsure where she is going with this.
"So you'll sing all the others for me?"
"Yes?" I answer before realizing what I am saying.
Cleopatra cheers and I backtrack, "Wait, I mean... What?"
"No take backs!" She yells, swerving slightly as she shouts. "You promised!"
"O-Okay," I stammer. "You mean you actually like my songs?"
"Please," She snorts. "Everybody likes your songs."
Stunned, I lean back against the leather seat. People actually like my work? I mean, Wil always said he did, but I always assumed that he was just trying to be nice. Now, though, I am confused. Why would he go behind my back like this? What were his intentions?
"So... Did "Ghost Bird" ever make money, Cleopatra?" I ask.
Swerving across three lanes and back, Cleopatra exclaims, "Don't call me that! Call me Cleo! And no, Ghost Bird—or you or whatever—never made any money, sorry."
So if it wasn't for money or fame, why did Wil post my songs? What was he trying to gain?
"Ahh... Here we are," Cleopatra announces, pulling into a parking spot and shutting off the loud engine. "The best clothing store in the world, if you ignore the owner."
A huge building looms in front of us, it's unique look causing it to stand out from the other stores surrounding it. Vines grow up the side of the modern gray building and huge windows allow you to see the people bustling around on the inside. A giant sign proclaims that the store is called "Jade's Emporium."
Nervously, I step out of the loud car. There are certainly a lot of people here. They hurry to and fro, carrying all sorts of stuff, talking loudly, and doing other things that I presume are normal but am not used to.
"Chill, Sang," Cleopatra orders. "It's just a store. Let's go!"
Reluctantly, I follow Cleopatra silently into the loud store. Blasting out of the speakers is another one of my songs.
"I am a hollow thing,
Made of nothing.
There is nothing in me,
No heart, no gut, no kidney.
Nothing at all. I am empty,
Yet the tears pour out of me.
Blushing, I duck my head even though no one knows that it is my song.
There is nothing here,
Nothing but these tears.
No one is here to wipe them away,
So here the tears will stay.
I am the only one in the room,
Soon, I guess, it will be my tomb.
How would you feel if someone posted all of your personal thoughts for the whole world to listen to? It's nerve-wracking and violating.
"I am a hollow thing,
Made of nothing.
There is nothing in me,
No heart, no gut, no kidney.
Nothing at all. I am empty,
Yet the tears pour out of me.
Cleopatra gives me a knowing smirk as she slips on a pair of sunglasses from her black leather purse.
"Are you hollow like me?
Do you know what you see?
Do you know how to feel?
Do you need to heal?
You're not alone, you know.
Really, we are all hollow.
"I am a hollow thing,
Made of nothing.
There is nothing in me,
No heart, no gut, no kidney.
Nothing at all. I am empty,
Yet the tears pour out of me.
"I don't want to be hollow,
I want to feel and know
That I'm loved and cared about.
Maybe this is an emotional bout,
But, in the slightest, I do not care.
I feel empty from my toes to my hair.
"Come, all you hollows,
Join and we'll see who follows.
It'll be all of us, I bet.
Your feelings, we all get.
We are all hollow here.
We all shed more than one tear.
"I am a hollow thing,
Made of nothing.
There is nothing in me,
No heart, no gut, no kidney.
Nothing at all. I am empty,
Yet the tears pour out of me."
Seemingly remembering that I am there, Cleopatra tosses me a leather jacket.
"Try this on," She orders.
Tugging on the black jacket, I look in the mirror and turn bright red. Mother would kill me if she saw me in it. Or if she saw me at all, probably. I shake my head with fervor. No way am I ever wearing that out of the house. It isn't me.
Cleopatra sighs and shoves me into the changing room. Item after item, she sticks the articles of clothing in the cubicle, making me walk out and show her with each one. I try on clunky black boots, red heels that are bigger than my head, black jeans that squeeze the life out of me, shirts that reveal so much I refuse to show her, and all sorts of other things.
"None of these are right!" Cleopatra exclaims, exasperated.
I nod urgently, hoping that she will give up and this will all be over.
"Here, this is the last one I have with me," She announces, passing over a white leather jacket.
Sliding it on, I turn and look at Cleopatra.
"Perfect," She breathes. "And I just figured out your style."
Oh, dear... I bite my lip, worried what that means.
Soon, Cleopatra has me wearing ripped white jeans, a white t-shirt, white boots, and the white leather jacket. I would think that it is far too much white, but somehow it suits me, making the green of my eyes stand out even more. My dirty blonde hair seems to glow against the colors and the color makes me look healthier, not so scrawny.
"Absolutely perfect," Cleopatra declares triumphantly.
Cleopatra has me try on more clothes, but not nearly as much, and soon we are done. Finally, we make our way to the cash register and Cleopatra dumps the clothes down. As I see the price, I start to freak out slightly. What happened to a bag of popcorn costing a nickel?! How could clothes cost that stinking much?!
"Cleo!" I hiss, tugging on her arm. "You can't buy that! It's too expensive!"
"Please," Cleopatra snorts. "You think I'm paying for it? No, Kaiden is and he is filthy rich. Don't worry about it."
Letting go of her arm, I step back still uneasy.
Why would Kaiden pay for my clothes? Is it really because he is so rich? No one has ever bought me clothes, I always wore the clothes that got too small for Mother. What does he have to gain by this?