Warning: mentions of abuse, bodily harm.
It was growing on her, now. Red had always been her color, and she surmised that it wasn't that awful to see hues of cherry and crimson whenever she passed a mirror.
She quite liked it, actually.
She liked the comments and compliments heaved her way by the people that usually wouldn't have given her a second thought, and she especially liked how her hair harmonized with her signature glossy nails.
It was an accidental rebrand that she wasn't hating, though her mother most definitely was.
But Lilian's opinion didn't matter to her, then. Christine wasn't abiding by her rules, or answering to that wretched woman anymore, and she hardly found it in herself to care about what her mom said.
She didn't care what anybody said.
Not even Beth. Not anymore.
Regardless of how much she adored that woman, how much she yearned for her whilst she was away, Christine had somehow forgotten how neurotic her best friend had the propensity to be.
How she was so domineering and obstinate when it came to Vince, or Christine, or even anything, really.
That woman--despite her occasional altruism--was full of nothing but pure, torrid bitterness.
"You crazy fuckin' bitch!" Vince yelled, backing into the living room barefoot--careful to mind the trash lining the carpet.
The unrest had conveniently ignited mere moments before Beth had pushed Vince out of their bedroom, urging him to "get out" before she erupted further.
Christine had been resting her head against Tommy's shoulder amidst the chaos, flicking through a community college brochure she had picked up this morning on her walk back home.
When she first flicked through the glossy red pages, her heart sank at the prospect of having to put herself through two years of that.
But, the more she read--the more she considered and scrutinized each potential pro to attending--her mind was hastily made up, and each downside to immersing herself into that environment was discarded.
Christine didn't mind applying for Los Angeles City College, now.
What she did mind, however, was the fucking noise coming from that room as she tried to reconsider each positive.
"I'd rather be a "crazy bitch" than a lying, cheating cunt!" Beth hurled at him, pointing a finger in his face. "You make me sick, Vincent!"
"The fuck did I do now?!"
"The fuck did you do?!" She repeated, yelling. "More like the fuck didn't you do, asshole!"
Christine closed her pamphlet and locked eyes with Nikki from across the room, lifting an eyebrow when Beth started to fume. And cry, too. Tears of fucking rage.
"I know that you've been fucking other bitches!"
"Okay?!" Vince gestured wildly, implying that she was acting precipitously--given that everybody knew of his infidelity.
Irked, she twisted her wedding band right off her finger and tossed it at the man that she saw as nothing short of pathetic.
"Jesus." Christine mumbled, tilting her head backwards a little bit.
She couldn't quite understand the nature of their relationship, the more she dwelled upon the subject. But they made it work, sometimes. Somehow.
"Okay?! Go to hell, Vince!" Beth continued to rant, forcing him to walk further into the living room. And she followed him.
The robe encasing her svelte frame had started to fall to the middles of her arms, now. Zebra print silk--an almost identical item to Chris's leopard print number--barely sat against tan skin the way it should've, but she didn't seem to care.
Beth pushed her fist into one of the pockets, ripping out a dainty lace g-string that, really, left little to the imagination.
"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" Calmer, she asserted. "Like, a real flaming pile of horse shit--"
"Where the fuck is this coming from, baby?"
"Don't 'baby' me!" Beth shrieked, coercing Christine to internally recoil at the shrillness of it.
She threw the underwear at Vince, watching him dodge the garment like it was seeping venom, or something.
"Which slut did you fuck in my bed, huh? Whose panties are those?!"
"Like I'm supposed to know?!" He snorted, once again letting his arms flail. "I've never seen that fuckin' thing before!"
"Oh, right." Beth nodded, stalking toward him. "'Cuz you don't pay attention to them before they're 'round her ankles, right--"
"Beth." He warned, pointing at her, now. His tone was brash, completely unwilling to continue whatever charade she was fronting today. "Shut it."
"Don't tell me what to do."
"Don't just assume that I know whose goddamn panties those are, then!"
"Well they're not mine!" Beth defended. "You would never catch me wearing red!"
Frantically, Christine flicked her eyes upward to heed the shit-eating grin that Nikki was sporting from across the way, confirming her suspicion.
They were hers.
"It's kinda funny though, don't 'ya think?"
"No?!"
"It is." Nikki taunted, knowing exactly how to push at Beth's buttons. She was easy. "Think about it--"
"Shut the fuck up with your cryptic bullshit, man." Galled, Vince snapped. "Just say what you're thinking."
About Beth? Or the situation at hand? He wondered.
The bassist couldn't help rasping a laugh at the sight of both blondes glaring at him--desperate to understand what he was trying to say.
Tommy, too. Though, he was more concerned with the main centerfold of the magazine clutched between his fingertips.
"Who always wears red?"
"Diane Keaton." Tommy stated without looking up, clearly misunderstanding Nikki's question.
"Totally. Vince totally managed to talk Kay Corleone into fuckin' bed last night, dipshit."
"Well, you asked who always wears red--"
"Not what I meant." Nikki growled, gritting his teeth. "I meant who--close to us--always wears red?"
Truly, he was stunned at the way that none of them caught on. How they were so stupid.
"Christ sake." Christine cleared her throat, getting up. "They're mine!"
"They're yours?! You slept with Vince?!"
"No!" Both Chris and the blonde yelled.
"I stayed in your room when you were gone, Beth." She told her, picking her thong up from the floor--blushing brightly. "I guess I just left them behind when I was moving my shit back to Nikki's room--"
"How am I supposed to believe that you didn't spread your goddamn legs for my husband?!"
"Because I wouldn't even fuck Vince if you paid me to! That's how!" Unthinking, she spat.
The pompous, completely brutal, nature of her degradation baffled Tommy, and left Nikki stifling a laugh. Because, to him, that was hilarious.
Seeing the singer get knocked down a few pegs, by Christine of all people, was one of the funniest sights he could've conjured up.
He cracked a smile, at that.
"I think you owe me an apology, Beth." Ignoring Chris's argument--though shooting her the most heinous side-eye--Vince muttered to his wife.
"I don't owe you shit, asshole. Eat a dick."
And, with that, she was stamping her way toward the bedroom. Disgruntled, of course.
"How the fuck did you know those were mine?" Christine lamented, watching Nikki light a cigarette.
He didn't even smoke that much.
"You walk 'round this place wearing nothing but a lace thong and a UCLA shirt." Smartly, he told her. "I'm surprised that Tommy didn't pick up on that sooner."
"Well, it's Tommy."
"Hey, watch your mouth!" Offended, Chris chastised Vince. "Get outta here--go 'n console your bitch in there before she blows another fuse!"
"Fuck you." He hissed, shaking his head. He went after Beth, though. "Fuckin' bitch."
Christine sneered, flipping him off when he stumbled past her. "Spin on it, douchebag."
"You've gotta get out of this place, Christine, or so help me God--"
"Just fuck off!" Nikki defended the--now--redhead, hating how she was getting castigated despite not being in the wrong.
As much as he loathed the thought of her, she wasn't at fault, this time. For once.
Though, Christine was still, in his eyes, a frigid bitch.
Had she been able to crack a joke, or even a smile during that argument, he would've let it go. But she was the most puritanical woman he'd ever encountered, and her reaction simply did not satisfy him.
But the dust had settled, now, and she'd long sauntered to the bedroom. Chasing some solitude. Perhaps, she was striving to block out Beth's ear-splitting screeching, smoking away her annoyance.
"That was kinda prudish." Nikki noted, approaching her from behind as she perched atop the ledge outside of their shared bedroom window.
She huffed cigarette smoke from her nose and mouth, refusing to swirl to face him. Instead, she watched the traffic pass by the apartment.
"Thought you weren't a prude?"
"I'm not." She griped, handing him her box of Marlboro when he appeared beside her.
"You are."
"No, I'm not."
"Alright." Recognizing that she had the potential to go all day, he cut things short. "Alright, fine. I've just gotta know one thing."
"Which is?"
Nikki plucked a stick from the red and white package, passing the carton back to her.
"Why do you always look at me like that?"
Uncertain what he was getting at, she just glared at him. Christine shifted over so he could take a seat beside her, lighting his cigarette when he balanced it between his lips.
"Like what?"
He raised an eyebrow, letting smoke billow from his nose.
"It's just my face, Nikki."
"No, it isn't."
"Yes it is--"
"Do you hate me, or something?" He cut her short.
Chris nodded. "Yeah."
"You really don't like me?"
"I really don't like you." She hummed with a little smile, flicking ash to the ground. "Can you leave me alone now?"
"No." Nikki caught the way she rolled her jaw. "No, I'm not leaving you alone, 'cuz that's not why you look at me that way."
His focus shifted, now. Following Christine's line of sight, he heeded the cars and people pass their apartment complex by. It was as peaceful as it could've been, he thought.
"You've got this constant facial expression that just reads misery, Chris."
"Why does that bother you?" Bitterly, she asked.
"Because you're just so fucking wretched all the damn time."
"Wretched." Her nod was curt, clearly bothered. "Nice to know that's what you think of me--"
"You're so uptight, Christine. That's not what I meant by that."
"What did you mean, then?"
"I don't fuckin' know anymore." He ran a hand over his face, grunting. Nikki just threw his cigarette, discarding it completely.
"Well, you obviously do." She continued to prod. "You started reeling shit off, why not finish what you were saying?"
Tiresome. That would've been the best term used to describe Christine.
Tiresome. Vexatious. Irritating.
"Alright, fine." Nikki conceded. "Your face--you always look so fucked off with everyone and everything. Like nothing has the ability to bring you happiness of any kind, and you're just fine to wallow in this endless cycle of self-pity and, I guess, despondency."
"Despondency?" She snorted a laugh.
"Yeah, despondency. And I know that ain't really you, Chris, so why're you sticking with this stupid charade? Surely it's getting boring, now."
"You don't even know me, Nikki. How'd you even come to that conclusion--"
"'Cuz you don't give me shit to work with! I've gotta assume everything. And, from what I've actually seen, you're not really like this. You're not a battle-axe like your mom, and I don't think you wanna end up that way either, do you?"
"Don't talk about my mother." She warned. Christine pointed at him with her cigarette, sneering when he tried to turn his head. "I don't need to be psychoanalyzed by you, of all fucking people, Nikki."
He just laughed at her, lifting an eyebrow.
Christine's patience--her ability to manage her temper--was dwindling the longer she sat shoulder-to-shoulder with that man.
Because she didn't like him. And she didn't want to be spending this unnecessary time with Nikki today.
"Alright, fine." Capitulating, she threw the butt to the ground. "You want more to work with? I'll give you more to work with."
"Finally--"
"Don't talk to me about my family, don't belittle my friends, and do not refer to me as 'Christine'."
"That's your name." Obviously, he stated. "Christine--"
"Call me 'Chris', or 'Chrissie', or anything. Just don't use 'Christine'. At least, not now."
"Not now?" She nodded. "Why not?"
Uptight wasn't even cutting it, anymore. She was fucking insufferable.
"None of your goddamn business, Nikki. Just respect the fact that I don't want to be called that."
In understanding, he gave a nod. "You tell everyone else the same thing?"
"I will." Chris guaranteed.
But, truly, it was just him.
For whatever reason, she struggled to listen to her name rolling off of his tongue.
It might've pertained to the ruthless torment she'd been subjected to over the last few weeks--hearing her name being called in nothing but sheer rage.
Or, it could've been because she just didn't like him. As she already stated.
"Why don't you wanna talk about your parents?"
"Same reason you won't talk about yours."
Nikki chuckled. In complete disbelief.
"Your mother gave you the world, Chris. Your father worked his ass off to give you and your sisters that cushy life you've become accustomed to, and you hate him for that? He pays for your college, put a roof over your head for the last nineteen years, and you're just throwing it all back into his face--"
"This," she gestured with tears in her eyes, "is none of your fucking business. You don't get to talk on my family--my life--and what I've been through."
"What you've been through?" He repeated with a smug, sickly smirk. "Like, how many cheques you burned through? How many--"
"Stop trying to be a damn smartass, Nikki." Irked, she got to her feet.
Christine toiled with the thought of throwing herself from the fire escape. Just to get away from him, in that instance.
"I don't get along with my parents, alright? Is that so difficult for you to get into your pea-sized brain?"
"No, it isn't." He mumbled.
He understood why her parents might've hated her, the more time he and Chris had spent with one another.
But, he also sympathized with her. Because he hated his parents, too. For reasons similar to her own--that, at that moment, he didn't understand--Nikki despised both his mom and dad.
"I'm sorry for being such an asshole, but this is a touchy subject."
As she towered over him, about to take a seat next to him again, Nikki looked up at her. He winced at her scowl, wondering if she was about to burst into tears, or punch him in the nose.
"Can I ask why?"
"My mother is being tough on me, right now. Tougher than usual." Sadly, she mused.
Chris sat beside him, again, calming herself down.
"She's gotten wind of what I'm doing, now. Who I'm with. And she's always been a cold old hag, so I'm really not surprised that she's cutting me off at the end of the semester."
Nikki let out an antagonized sigh. School was always so important to her.
And, he supposed that she hadn't wanted to be referred to as 'Christine', because she was sick of hearing her mother admonish her with it.
"I mean, she gave me an ultimatum. But I didn't want to go home--back to her and my father--so I told her that I'd drop college. Kinda regret it, now."
"But you didn't want to go home? Why'd you regret it?" He squinted, trying to understand where she was coming from.
"I don't have anything, Nikki." Truthfully, she told him. "I don't have my own money, my own place, I don't even have a car to get me from A to B. If I'd just managed to stick it out at home for another couple years, I'd be able to finish college and get on my feet--"
"But you can do that without putting yourself through hell."
"I know." She smiled softly, thinking back to the conversation she and Tommy had shared. "I'm just not cut out for this life. I've never had to be out in the world alone, and I'm already struggling with accepting that I've got no future."
"Don't say that." Defensively, he asserted.
He was getting irritated by her self-loathing, knowing that she was one of the smartest women he'd ever met.
"You've got the brightest future out of us all--don't put yourself down 'cuz your parents made you choose between college or your independence."
"Nikki--"
"No." For, what felt like the one hundredth time today, he cut her off. "Chris, if your mother and father made your life a living hell, then don't fucking say you wish you could go back to them. Just be thankful that you managed to get out--to break that cycle--'cuz not a lot of people get to do that."
"I know." She fiddled with her thumb ring. "I do. And I'm grateful that you let me stay here, despite me being a bitch to you guys half of the time."
"All of the time." He corrected.
Chris simply hummed, cracking another smile.
"Still. You don't need to think that way--not when you're free, and able to do what you wanna. The world is your oyster, or whatever the fuck the saying goes like."
"Thanks. I, uh, I don't get that a lot."
"No?" Nikki quizzed, about to pass her the rest of his cigarette, but she pushed his hand lightly. "Your parents thought the world of your brains, but they never encouraged you?"
She'd given up deflecting, now.
Maybe, to get him off her back a little bit, Christine opening up wasn't the worst thing she could have thought of.
He seemed to be quite understanding in that instance, actually.
"My parents were abusive, Nikki. They didn't care to boost my ego."
"Chris, you don't need to--"
"I'm gonna." She told him sincerely, almost reassuring that he was okay.
But he knew just as much as she did, that she was always far from okay. How could she be okay with parents like hers?
Still. He wasn't in a position--he wasn't close enough to her--to disregard what she elucidated to be her feelings. True, or false.
"My father was such a prick, man. It always came back down to my grades with him, for some reason."
"He was one of those, huh?"
Christine snorted a laugh. "Oh, absolutely."
An unfamiliar twinge of hurt prickled within her chest, then. She hadn't dwelled on her father's musings all too much, and she surmised that there was a reason, for that.
"The first time I realized that my dad was not like the other dads was when I was in, like, the sixth grade. I was still pretty young. Pretty impressionable, too. And I was just sorta finding myself with school--'cuz I always struggled to find stuff that I was good at when I was a kid. Always in my sister's shadow, I guess."
Though he didn't completely understand, Nikki nodded along.
"And I remember one day, I was super excited to hand my mom my report card--knowing that she was hammered and wouldn't remember it by the morning, but not really caring at the time. I got straight fuckin' A's in all of my classes."
"Shit. You've always been brainy." Impressed, he noted.
She gave a tight-lipped smile, grimacing. "Every class was a walk in the damn park. Aside from Chemistry--I got a B."
"That's not that bad."
"No, you're right. But to my dad? End of the fucking world."
Aside from the few glares being hurled his way, Nikki hadn't locked eyes with Christine, today. He hadn't been blessed with the sight of those beautiful, beguiling hazel hues, yet.
He nudged her lightly, urging her to satisfy his gaze. And, reluctantly, she did.
With those big, brown eyes--completely full of sadness and, as earlier floated, utter despondency--Chris looked directly at him. Penetratively.
"He was a control freak. He hated that I wasn't pliant like my mom, or my sisters, and that I'd always speak my mind. And, I guess, the only way he could shut me up, was by hitting me--"
"He didn't..."
"Not very often." She cleared up, knitting both brows together when Nikki softened. "He hardly left any marks in the wake of his beatings, 'cuz he knew CPS would be on his ass. And what kinda lawyer gets into trouble with the law?"
"A bad one." Nikki chuckled when she laughed, completely humorlessly.
"Exactly. An awful one." Chris deliberated. "But that time was truly an exception. 'Cuz he whipped out a blade, and went to town on my shoulder."
Christine shifted, facing away from him as she shimmied the cap-sleeve to the middle of her arm. She pushed those long, cherry curls to the side, letting him take a look.
She'd never confided in anybody like that, before.
"Holy fuck." Nikki whispered, heeding the faint scar. "Is that..."
"Shaped like a crucifix?" She finished, jolting when his fingers ghosted over the light patch of skin. "Indeed."
"Fuck me. What is wrong with him?"
"He's a Jesus nut, can't you tell?" Chris chuckled, shrugging her shirt back on. "It's kinda ironic how my dad was so into his faith, and my mother hated religion because it fucks people up."
"But they both ended up being cut from the same cloth--religious or not."
"Exactly." She readjusted herself, sighing out. "That day made me realize that, not only are my parents batshit insane, but my big sister was more of a mom to me than my actual mother. Y'know, when she wasn't out trying to get laid, and whatever else she was doing."
"Drugs. Drinking--"
"Okay, Nikki. I don't wanna taint the only decent memories from my childhood." Again, they shared a laugh. "But, to be honest, I wouldn't be surprised. My mom was like it--we're all destined to follow some of the same fate, aren't we?"
"I guess." Indifferently, he shrugged. "My mom was the same--drugs and alcohol--and my dad was a deadbeat. Never knew the guy. Kinda glad, actually."
"Yeah?"
"Hell yeah. If he was anything like the abusive cunts my mom used to hook up with 'n bring into my life, then I'm happy we never became acquainted with one another."
"Dads fucking suck." She sympathized, exerting a sigh. "But, there is a silver lining to all of the shit we endured, I think."
"And what might that be, Chrissie?"
She smiled, somewhat pleased that he used that name for her. And he wasn't adopting that habitual condescending rhythm when talking to her, either.
"Neither one of us have turned out that bad. I mean, of course, we're both assholes and have our moments, but we could've been worse. Y'know, considering what we came from."
Nikki bobbed his head, silently agreeing with her whilst pondering each thing she'd said to him.
Because, before today, he was convinced that her life was perfect. Her childhood, her home, her parents, were all flawless.
But, he couldn't have been more wrong.
Had Christine decided to come to terms with her trauma rather than suppress it, wear her heart on her sleeve, then perhaps he would've had an inkling.
But she didn't.
She never would've.
Christine hardly explained her hardships to Beth. He was stunned that she'd spoken to him, of all people, today.
There was a mutual sense of trust between them, now. An unspoken respect--appreciation--that would not falter during the time in which they were set to spend together.
And, even three and a half hours later when Beth, Tommy, Vince, and Mick fled the apartment to spend time on Sunset, the moment didn't stutter.
Christine and Nikki were still being nice. And it didn't maim them to be that way, either.
"Didn't feel like heading out tonight?" She asked as she chewed on her gum, holding two pieces of paper that he'd handed to her.
"Nah. Got something important I need to ask you."
"Band related?"
Nikki nodded.
"Why're you asking me?" Chris squinted, striving to decipher the illegible handwriting scribbled across the pages. "The guys aren't interested? Or you need some impartial advice."
"Both." He fired back, smiling almost bashfully when she finally looked at him. "How'd you feel about putting your mathematical knowledge to great use?"
"I'm listening."
His grin was wide, toothy.
"The first album we're planning. I'm gonna need a little help with calculating how much we're gonna need to pool together to spend. 'Cuz I've been looking, and shit is steep."
"I'd have guessed that, Nikki. That's why people try to get signed--"
"We're getting there. We just need to put this first record out there, and we'll have secured our spot."
"You think?"
"I know." Confidently--though, it wasn't cockily--he reassured. "I'm just trying to get a firm grip on this whole production side of things. The songwriting and the actual music ain't the problem."
"It's finding the right producer, the right studio space to fit your needs, and the promotion." She finished his sentence, earning a nod. "Well, of course I can help with that. I just need to know your budget--"
"We have about three grand saved between us."
Completely shocked, she gasped. "How the hell do you have so much money?"
"We're good at money management. Saving, investing, reselling. That kinda thing."
"Drugs." Christine rectified. "You're buying drugs for cheap, putting the money you've conserved aside, reselling them for a greater profit margin, and repeating the process, I assume."
"Correct." Without haste, he retorted. "It's workin' for us. We've made over half of that in the last eight weeks, and if we keep it up we're gonna be lookin' at, like, four grand by the end of the month."
Impressed by their determination--their initiative, too--Chris nodded and made a couple of notes.
She wasn't entirely convinced that Nikki needed her assistance with such a thing, more so just a push in the right direction.
"We've got our own kit--won't need to rent anything out--we can rehearse and record pretty much whenever 'cuz our schedules frequently line up--"
"Nikki, let me just stop you a second." Reluctant to halt him, she held a hand out. "Before we get into the finances, we'll need to decide how many hours you'll spend rehearsing, and then recording this album. 'Cuz there's not much use in calculating the rough cost if we don't know how long you'll be in the studio for. It might take longer than you initially think."
"Okay." Easily, he obliged.
Christine scanned over the pages set before her, noticing that Nikki had made a bulleted list of everything they already had. Like rehearsal space.
"Right." She straightened the sheet out, pointing to the middle of it. "I see that the apartment would be the main rehearsal space, so you can put, like, two hundred dollars back onto your budget."
He crossed out the preliminary cost, adding each figure as appointed.
"And consider using that money for a better, perhaps, more quality recording space. Better equipment, producers, etc. 'Cuz this twelve dollars an hour place you've found is a great deal, don't get me wrong."
"But it could be full of shitty staff?"
"Exactly." Chris smiled. "And you don't want to compromise with your first album."
"So, you think I should look at a better studio?"
"Definitely. Preferably in the twenty dollar an hour region--'cuz then we can properly talk this through."
"But everything else...?" Almost nervous, he asked.
Christine was impressed with him, she'd happily give him that.
"I think you're planning this accordingly. Really well, actually. And, given that you'd rehearse and meet here, I'm thinking you could easily make this album for one point five, point six. But that is only if you guys would stick to a sound schedule. Rehearsing, recording, and whatever else."
He was dumbstruck. Really.
"Fuck, Chris. I could kiss you, right now--"
"Don't." She chuckled, but rose to her feet at the same time as Nikki. "I'll hug you, but I draw the line at kissing."
And he took that offer. He took it, and ran with it, winding both arms around a very apprehensive Christine.
She smiled up at him, though.
"Thank you, Chris."
"It's the least I could do. Really." Her smile faltered, and she blinked back her tears. "Thanks for listening to me today. And, also, thank you for not thinking I'm a huge idiot for all that I told you."
"You're a lot of things. But you're not an idiot." Simply, he told her. "I mean that."
"You do?"
"I do." He affirmed, keeping her close to him. "You're one of the most resilient girls I've ever met. And that, these days, is extremely hard to come by."