We Wear The Mask (PASH)-Chap. 4
by Chrissyn

:
We Wear The Mask--Part 4
 
 

Chad and Cilla were at the bus stop. It was early morning, cool, and motorists were on their way to work, school.
School buses, bread and soda trucks, eighteen wheelers whizzed by. Car horns tooted, varoomed.
"I don't believe this, Cilla complained.
"What cha talking about?" Chad asked, distractedly, as he craned his head down the stretch of highway.
"That you don't have a set of wheels," Cilla explained.
"In time, I will," Chad said. "Finding a place to stay and a car ain't gonna happen overnight. If I was a gambling man, I'd play some lottery numbers. But the money, I'd be wasting on those tickets could be put to better use."
"Well, I haven't rode a bus since I was in high school," Cilla said petulantly.
"Well, get ready to take a spin down memory lane," Chad said.
"What are you looking for?" Cilla huffed.
"The Six and Witchduck," Chad answered. "The bus that'll take us directly to the Youth Center."
She rolled her eyes. "So Chad, who's Whitney?"
"Don't worry about that," Chad replied.
"Well, although she didn't tell me, I assume her last name is Russell."
He frowned, and searching her face, asked. "How do you know that?"
"When we were leaving for the bus stop, I saw her waltz into the main house--so to speak. She didn't knock, so I figured she must be related. And last night, you said the house belonged to the Russells."
"Well, Whitney is the Russell's older daughter."
"And ya'll have a little something something for each other, I gathered," Cilla said.
Chad smiled warmly. "You could say that."
"So I have a little competition for your heart," Cilla stated.
He lifted an eyebrow. "Competition for my heart?"
She nodded. "But that doesn't matter. I'm always up for a good challenge."
He laughed without humor. "Well, I'm here to tell ya, sistah girl, you'd lose." He paused. "It's finito between you--" He pointed at her-- "and me." He tapped himself on the chest.
She bristled. "Whitney, hardly seems your type."
"Meaning?" Chad inquired.
She batted her eyelashes. "Well, look at me, and look at her. I'm prettier than she is."
"In your opinion, and looks ain't everything."
"Yeah, that's what people say, but the first thing they see is face, eyes, hair, and body. And I've got it all," Cilla said.
Chad laughed. "Cilla, you good for a chuckle. I got to give you that."
"And Whitney is so obviously square...running around in that tacky jogging suit," Cilla stated.
He checked out her skin-tight get-up. "Well, not everybody advertises their assets to the world," Chad said.
"And with all those curls, she looks like a black Little Orphan Annie," Cilla said.
Chad didn't appreciate Cilla badmouthing Whit. "Keep it up this catty bs," he snapped, "and you gonna havta find your own way to The Youth Center."
"Sorry," she said, reluctantly. "But she doesn't seem your type. She seems old-fashioned."
He eyed her warningly.
She held up a hand. "Not a put down. Just an observation. I mean, we were once lovers, and you tried to break into music...You dee jayed in nightclubs...Whitney Russell is a departure from what you're used to."
"A nice departure," Chad said sincerely. "I like her sweetness. Where she comes from."
She lifted an eyebrow. "Where she comes from? That house isn't exactly a mansion."
"It's a nice home, Cilla...filled with nice people, who care about each other. Whitney's a decent girl, and so is her family...I want to be a part of something like that."
"Puh-leeze. They might live in the suburbs, and have respectable jobs...but they've got some junk in their closets...I've seen it all. Men with wives or girlfriends stashed in the suburbs, and during his play time, he goes to strip bars, buying sex from lap dancers or streets sluts. The Russells could be living a facade."
"Cilla, I'm not naive. I know things ain't always the way they appear."
The bus pulled to the stop. The doors parted; Chad held it for a stooped, elderly woman. He motioned for Cilla to climbed the few steps leading into the crammed vehicle.
At the coin slot, Cilla waited. He made a face, and fished enough coins out of his pocket to take care of both fares.
When they were side-by-side, comfortably seated, Chad whispered out of the side of his mouth, "I guess you ain't never heard the phrase, "There ain't no free rides."

About thirty minutes later, the bus halted in front of The Youth Center. "God, how many stops did that damn thing make?" Cilla asked, as they headed for the building, which was the former gymnasium of Harmony High.
Save the gym, the original Harmony High was razed, and the new school had a gym inside.
When Chad and Cilla entered the building, a group of guys shooting hoops greeted, "Yo" to Chad, and checked out Cilla.
Luis's door was opened, and he was behind his desk, doing paperwork. Chad tapped on the door. "Yo, Luis," he said, poking his head in the office.
Luis looked up from the papers. "Chad," he said, pleasantly.
"Hey, man. Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Sure, Chad. C'mon in," Luis said, waving him inside the cramped office.
Chad motioned for Cilla to enter, and then he did likewise. Luis smiled pleasantly at the attractive girl, and his good looks did not escape her.
Standing in front of Luis's desk, like two high school kids being admonished by the principal, Chad introduced Cilla as a friend, and explained her situation to Luis--how she just came in from L.A., damn near penniless, with no place to stay. "So I'm wondering if you could help her out?" he asked.
"I'm sure we can do something," Luis explained.
His encouraging words wiped the anxiety off Chad's face.
"What are you into?" Luis asked Cilla.
"I'll try anything once," she said, coquettishly.
Luis smiled sheepishly, and shook his head. Chad gave Cilla a knock-it-off look.
"I mean, what's your line of work?" Luis rephrased his question. "What are you trained to do?"
"Sides flirtin'," Chad said.
"Well, I went to community college for three semesters...dropped out. Wasn't my bag. But I can type. I've worked as a chanteuse."
"Oh, you sing," Luis said. Impressed.
"Yes, I can...blow." Cilla giggled. "I'm quite good at it, as Chad here can attest."
The double entendre did not escape Luis. From working with kids of all ethnicities, he knew that blow was slang for sing. "You're quite a character, Cilla," he chuckled. "But I don't know of any job openings for singers in Harmony."
"Well, I've also waited tables," she stated.
He brightened. Shrugged. "I'm sure we could scare you up a job doing that. Restaurants always need extra hands."
"Yes, such gigs come as often as--" She shrugged. "City buses."
"Sorry, I can't get you a recording contract," Luis said. He was being sarcastic. "As for a place to stay, the Chief-of-Police's wife, Grace Bennett owns a Bed and Breakfast. I'll call over there, and see if she has any vacancies. If not, we can try some of the shelters."
"Shelter! As in homeless shelter?!" Cilla's tone was indignant.
"Well, considering you are homeless, and you need shelter," Chad said.
Cilla rolled her eyes and emitted an exasperated gasp.