I feel safe finally in Guadalupe’s van, which is as pink as the inside of a watermelon and as crammed full as a caravan could be. I feel like a marionette with its strings cut; my legs are shaking so hard I barely made it up the steps. I know Wolfboy could have run here much faster, but held back for me.
Guadalupe is a big woman in a psychedelic tent-dress. She’s got tomato-coloured hair and smudged coral lipstick, but her eyes are bright and shrewd. She looks crazy, but I know instantly that she’s not. When I hold my hand out to shake hers, she flips it over and traces the inside of my arm with glossy purple fingernails.
‘Just kebabs, Lupe.’ Wolfboy pulls my arm away from her and stands between us. It all seems a bit protective, especially since it was his idea to come here. Not that I was planning on just standing around after the gang was done with us.
Lupe doesn’t seem offended. She pats Wolfboy’s shoulder like he’s a big old poodle. They act like old friends. She doesn’t even mind that he doesn’t use her proper name.
‘You’re hungry then, my boy?’
‘Always.’ He sits down at a table that takes up one end of the van and gestures for me to join him. I pick up the pile of books already occupying the seat and try to find a bare surface to put them on. The best I can do is to balance them on some satin cushions. I slide into the narrow gap between the table and the horseshoe-shaped bench, sitting opposite him. I flap my t-shirt, trying to dry the wet patches under my arms.
‘I give you the bloody bits,’ Lupe tells Wolfboy, ‘just how you like.’
I make an oh-really? face at Wolfboy. He looks embarrassed and starts smoothing his hair into place. Impressive. It’s still holding its shape, even with all the running.
‘And you, my darling? Are you hungry?’ Lupe’s accent is from somewhere else; she speaks so lazily, the word ‘darling’ comes out as daaaahhhlink.
‘Yes, please.’ Now that I think about it my stomach twinges with hunger and a headache dances at the edges of my vision. ‘But no bloody bits,’ I add. I was too busy glamming up after work to eat any dinner. There was nothing in our fridge anyway, and I couldn’t be bothered walking to the shops. No wonder I got so tipsy earlier.
Even with all the clutter, the van is much bigger inside than the outside suggests. I can’t see a bed so the table must fold down to make one. Lupe is visible through the beaded curtain that separates her living quarters from the kitchen. She tinkles through the curtain now and places a cup and saucer in front of me.
‘To make things better’ is all she says, before returning to the kitchen. Wolfboy nods so I sip the tea. It’s hot and sour and the colour of green apples. If it’s witchcraft, I’m not complaining because calm rolls over me almost instantly. My heart returns to normal, and my legs stop burning.
I examine the van. The walls are quilted in pink vinyl and studded with crystal buttons. A sideboard crammed with photos, statues and crockery runs down one side of the van, opposite the door; above that shelves groan with books and LPs. There’s some seriously crazy shit in here: a grinning skull on a stick, a string of lights in the shape of lotus flowers, a bunch of dried chillies hanging in one corner, peacock feathers in a vase, a case of pinned butterflies, a rusty microscope, jars of pickled god-knows-what.
I drink the last of my tea. Wolfboy has his head in his hands and seems unable to meet my eyes. The table is covered all over with photos cut out of old magazines, topped with a thick layer of varnish. I’m leaning on some of my favourite old-timey movie stars. Lupe has good taste when it comes to films. Maybe not so much on the interior decorating.
Lupe clatters plates and knives in the kitchen, and Wolfboy still doesn’t speak. He looks exhausted, blinking those gorgeous blue eyes like it’s the only thing he has energy left to do. I want to cradle his tired face in the palms of my hands.
‘You’ve got the long blinks,’ I tell him.
‘Sorry,’ he mumbles.
‘For what?’
We’re safe. I saw my first Dreamer. The bit where I got attacked by the Ewok was freaky, but I can hardly complain when freaky is what I’ve been demanding. And here I was worrying the night was going to be all ritzy bars and wankers. I’ll tell you one thing: when I was running from those brats it was the only time I managed to forget what I’ve been trying to forget all day.
‘That was my fault. I should have asked you if you were carrying. Are you okay?’
I touch my head all over to see if that nasty little animal actually drew blood with its claws. I still have my handbag and my phone and my keys and the magic bankcard. I didn’t dare check on the card until we were well out of sight. I haven’t had a chance yet to think seriously about my travel plans but I have no intention of giving up this card for anyone.
I check under the table, and my tights aren’t even ripped. ‘I’m fine, really.’
I got rolled by a monkey and a bunch of kids on hotted-up bikes and they didn’t take the one valuable thing I have on me. The kid who went through my bag was barely old enough for school, and he was terrified, his lower lip wobbling like he was going to burst into tears. I can see the funny side, but Wolfboy still looks shattered.
‘I should have seen them. They would have been following us for a while.’
‘The monkeys or the brats?’
‘The monkeys. They’re called tarsier. They’re foot soldiers. They find targets, get information and follow people. They can go places no one else can. The one that attacked you would have dropped off a roof.’
The tarsier didn’t look like any monkey I’ve ever seen. It was too small for one thing, and its bulging saucer-eyes took up almost its whole head, and it had huge hands with nubby fingers. I wish I could have a shower to get rid of the feeling of its filthy fingers brushing against my face.
‘Such big eyes,’ I say, and I’m not sure if I’m talking about the kids or the monkeys.
‘The night favours those with big eyes.’ The words sound strange coming out of Wolfboy’s mouth, like he’s reciting a proverb. ‘Remember, if you see tarsier, the kids aren’t far behind.’
Somehow, through my fatigue and hunger, a few pieces of the puzzle slide into place.
‘Kids? Kids as in K-I-D-D-S rushing in, right?’
Wolfboy nods. The graffiti near Sebastien’s makes more sense now.
‘You were scared,’ I say. ‘We were outnumbered, sure, but none of them was older than fourteen or fifteen.’
‘I’m sorry. I should’ve stepped in earlier. They had no right to search you like that…it was out of line. But I recognised the leader of that gang. A guy called the Elf. Everyone around here knows he’s bad news.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ I say, and I mean it. ‘Were they really only interested in jelly beans?’
If he’d gone for the bankcard Baby would have received a good smack on the bum.
‘The Kidds are sugar freaks, and they’ve got the tarsier hooked as well. They were all high, completely off their chops. You can tell when you look at their eyes.’
There was something weird about the way the Kidds moved; their eyes sliding and their hands twitching. There’s plenty of junkies in Plexus, but none that young.
‘Can sugar really do that to them?’
‘In high enough doses, yeah. They’d do anything for it. Usually they don’t bother with the small stuff, but maybe it’s been a slow night. Or they were bored.’ Wolfboy frowns. ‘I shouldn’t have let them search you.’
I want to reach across the table and put my hand over his, but Lupe tinkles through the curtain again and I fold my hands in my lap instead. The smell of meat and garlic wafts in. Lupe’s face shines from the heat of the rotisserie.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asks abruptly, putting a plate in front of me.
‘I’m thinking you have a lot of crap in here.’
God, that wasn’t very polite. The woman invites us into her home and feeds us and I call her possessions ‘crap’. Fortunately Lupe just laughs and squeezes into the seat next to me. Three is a tight fit, and none of us are small people. I tuck my feet on either side of Wolfboy’s ankles, nudging him, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
The kebab takes up the entire plate, a thick roll of pita bread stuffed with salad and meat and dripping with sauce. Wolfboy takes huge bites out of his like he hasn’t eaten in several years. I take a quick look at his plate. Chunks of charred meat fall out of the bread. Nothing raw or bloody that I can see.
He catches me looking. ‘It’s cooked. I’m not an animal.’
‘I didn’t think—I know you’re not…’ I can’t think of what else to say so I pick up my kebab and take a bite. It’s delicious—salty and crispy and garlicky in all the right proportions. The bread falls apart in my hands but I just pick up the pieces and keep shovelling it in. I can’t believe how hungry I am. We don’t talk as we eat, and Lupe seems to enjoy watching us. I become human again with food in my stomach.
As soon as I finish my meal, licking my fingers clean and sighing with satisfaction, Lupe sits up abruptly, making the red beads around her neck dance.
‘Darling, your arm.’ Lupe takes my hand in hers again and stretches my arm out flat, so that the pale skin of my inner arm is exposed. ‘I read skin,’ she explains. ‘Like palm reading, but instead I read your veins.’
‘Lupe,’ growls Wolfboy, pushing his plate away. There’s colour in his cheeks now and life back in his eyes. He looks at me. ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to.’
My veins are barely visible.
‘Have you had it done?’ I ask him. He nods.
Up close Lupe’s face is crisscrossed with powder-caked lines. I’ve never had my palm read, or my stars done, or seen a psychic. I don’t think you can ask them to only tell you the good stuff and filter out the bad. I need to believe that good things are going to happen to me soon, to make up for all the crap that’s been happening recently.
‘You shouldn’t be afraid,’ says Lupe, ‘I already see lots of life here.’
‘Sure,’ I say. I don’t have to believe what she tells me anyway. Hopefully she’ll say that I’m about to begin a long journey and leave all my problems behind. And if she doesn’t then I’m strong enough to think otherwise.
Lupe begins to tap my arm lightly all over with her fingertips.
Wolfboy slides along the bench and frees himself from the table.
‘I’ll wait outside.’
I can’t tell if he’s pleased or upset that I’ve agreed to have my arm read.
‘Is that safe?’ I ask. ‘Maybe you should stay. I don’t mind.’ ‘There’s a circle around the van,’ Guadalupe says. ‘A circle no one can enter without my say so.’
Wolfboy turns; our eyes meet before he leaves. The van dips as he steps down. The door clatters shut behind him. I give Lupe a nervous smile as I shift in my seat. The familiar weight of my handbag rests on my feet.
Guadalupe’s face slackens; only her eyes remain sharp. I watch her as she traces patterns over my arm. It’s so relaxing sitting in this pink capsule, with my arm being stroked like there’s a miniature figure skater gliding over it. I feel my breathing slow and my mind empty.