Skye Wright takes a random middle-of-the-night drive in my upcoming novel Finding the Apex Devil Girl. This is a sneak peek scene from book three of The Rise and Fall of Skye Wright series, coming out in May 2023.
This is a work in progress, so any feedback for this excerpt is appreciated!
Skye was having trouble sleeping.
She had crashed out for a long time the night she got home from the tour a few weeks ago, but ever since then a good night’s sleep had eluded her. No amount of fatigue could convince her body to slumber for an appreciable amount of time.
After struggling out from under her cats, she took Juan and Juanita for a quick walk before bringing them back in and getting in her car.
It was just past midnight when she drove her beat up Subaru hatchback down the wide main street of San Pablo. She had to think for a moment to decide where she was going when her heartburn reminded her of the original reason for her going out.
She stopped by the local 7-11. They didn’t have any antacid. They did not have any Ricolas either. She settled for buying a small bag of chips.
Back on San Pablo Avenue, she cut through Berkeley on her way to El Ceritto. There were barely any cars around. It was so late at night the only people walking the streets was an occasional homeless person.
Skye gripped the steering wheel and kept staring straight ahead when a cop car was just behind her and to the left in the other lane. She kept one eye on her speedometer, not wanting to give the cop any excuse to pull her over and harass her.
Shortly after the cop car veered off, she saw a young woman walking along the street. She had a familiar-looking olive green army jacket covered with band patches, a red wool cap, and a long braided ponytail.
She decided that it could not have been Tremmy’s daughter Amy, that there was no way she could be walking along a dark and empty main street at one in the morning. Then she saw her glasses and trademark pointed nose.
Skye pulled over and rolled down the window. “Hey Amy!”
Amy slowed down and looked curiously into the car. “Hey. What the fuck are you doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same question. At least I got a car.”
Amy dropped her head. “I had a real bad fight with my ma, so I left the house.”
Skye let out a long sigh. She knew Tremmy, the old scenester who had turned into a semi-recluse, well enough to know how easily she could lose her temper, sometimes over trivial subjects, even with someone like her own daughter.
“Where the hell you goin’?” asked Skye.
Amy shrugged. “Jus’ walkin’ around. I don’t have no particular place in mind.”
“Well get in. You shouldn’t be walkin’ around here by yourself at this time a night.”
Amy put her hands in her pockets and scrunched her shoulders. “It’s okay. I just wanna go for a walk.”
“Amy, just get in the car.”
She shook her head around. “I don’t wanna go home right now. My ma’s…” Amy scrunched up her face. She almost looked as if she might start to weep.
“I’m headed for Nathan’s. Come with. I’ll buy you a milkshake.”
Amy stood up straight, looking up and down the street. She dropped her head and looked at the ground.
Skye leaned over and opened the passenger door. Amy slowly got into the car, still holding her head down.
“You all right?” asked Skye.
“Yeah. Just gettin’ into it with my ma.”
“Got it.”
Amy lifted her head. “You know my ma pretty good, right?”
“Hey, me an’ Tremmy were at Gilman every weekend back in my Berkeley days,” said Skye as she drove back out onto the street.
“Damn. She hardly ever goes to Gilman anymore. I don’t think I’ve been there with her more than a few times in the past couple a’ years.”
Amy took out a small action figure, some sort of flaming hair warrior that looked like an anime character and started turning it around in her hands, looking down and concentrating on it as if she was trying to hypnotize herself.
Skye thought about Tremmy. She was another in a wide cast of characters she had gotten to know over the years in the punk scene. When Skye had first gotten to know her she had been to virtually every show she also went to. Then she suddenly dropped out. Skye had not seen her for months when she casually asked a few people “Whatever happened to Tremmy?” only to get shrugs and “Who the hell knows” responses. At the time she did not think much of it. She assumed she may have gone to a rehab, or possibly had moved out of the Bay Area because she could no longer afford the back-breaking rents, two of the three main reasons people disappeared from the scene.
After that Tremmy would appear and reappear time and again, floating in and out of the scene. She would change her appearance and her style frequently. Her appearances and take would always be unpredictable and random. Skye had no idea that she had a child until her Amy was a good seven or eight years old.
It was around the time that some of Skye’s friends started having children, a concept that she found odd and disturbing. The idea that any of the drunk and drug-addled brawlers, moshers, and people bordering the line of going beyond eccentric and a few select people whom she was convinced were close to becoming legitimately insane would ever go as far to reproduce, becoming responsible for the welfare and upbringing of an actual child. It was a concept that she found more than a little disturbing.
Watching Amy twist and turn the figure in her hands, she tried not to shudder at the thought of what Amy’s childhood had been like, what kind of mothering Tremmy had subjected her to.
Skye tried to concentrate on the road.
“What the actual fuck!” blurted Skye.
“What?”
Skye pointed to a bus bench across the intersection. Someone wearing all-black clothes was sitting on the bench, their ratty blonde hair covering their face as they slumped forward.
“Who’s that?” asked Amy.
“That’s Keefer,” said Skye as she drove across the street and pulled up in front of the bench.
Amy rolled her window down.
“Hey Keefer!” yelled Skye.
Keefer did not budge.
“Keef!”
“Hey Keef!” shouted Amy.
Keefer flinched, snapping up her head. “Wah?”
Keefer’s head listed to and fro like a bobblehead as Skye and Amy stared her down.
“I don’t think she recognizes us,” said Amy.
“Fuck, she’s totally fucking wasted!”
Skye got out of the car and took Keefer by the arm. “The buses aren’t running anymore. Just get in the back and I’ll take you home.”
Amy got out of the car and helped Skye maneuver Keefer into the back seat, where she slumped against a window.
“I really hope she doesn’t get sick in my car,” said Skye as she drove back out onto the street.
“You know where she lives?”
“Yeah. She’s got a spot at the Franch House.
Amy shook her head. “Nuh uh. She got kicked outta that place last month.”
“Damn. Okay. Where does she live now?”
Amy gave an exaggerated shrug. “Fuck if I know. I just know she don’t live there no more.”
Skye craned her head and looked at Keefer. “Yo Keef! Where you live? Tell me an’ I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Norsh Oaklan’…” slurred Keef as she kept her head pressed against the window.
“North Oakland where?”
“Norsh Oaklin’.”
Skye and Amy looked at each other.
“No way you gettin’ an address outta this lush,” said Amy. “She is beyond fucked up.”
“Fuck it. Let’s just keep goin’.”
Skye concentrated on the road as Amy started talking. She began muttering about random topics, starting with the character she was holding in her hand.
At one point Amy stopped talking and turned around to look at Keefer.
“She still alive?” asked Amy.
“Who knows. As long as she don’t throw up in my car.”
“She’s fuckin’ out,” said Amy as she turned back around.
Amy continued to talk, projecting an audial stream of consciousness as she went from one topic to another: anime series, graphic novel adaptations, and heavy metal music compared to punk.
Skye kept noting the very few individuals who were walking along the dark streets. They passed a homeless man shambling along with a blanket over his shoulders. Skye spotted a woman in a billowy sun dress on the other side of the street, pushing a shopping cart filled to the top with random items. There was also a normal looking woman swearing regular clothes, walking a large white dog as if it were the middle of the day.
Skye turned her attention to Amy’s ramblings, waiting for a moment to comment so Amy would not feel as if she was ignoring her.
But she caught another sight before she could say anything.
“Fuck me,” muttered Skye, as they passed by a tall and slender woman with a pile of dreadlocks tied up on her head, carrying a large stack of records.
“What?” asked Amy. “Don’t tell me you know her too?”
“That’s Jenny Treble.”
Skye pulled the car up alongside the record carrying woman.
“Damn Skye,” said Amy, “is there anyone in the East Bay you don’t know?”
“Hey Jenny!”
The woman stopped and looked into the car. “What the fuck Skye.”
“Where you goin’?”
“Takin’ mah records over to Gibby’s. Where you goin’?”
“Nathan’s,” said Amy. “We got Keefer in the back already.”
Jenny looked into the back seat. “Fuckin’ a’. She’s fuckin’ boiled.”
“You wanna come with us?” asked Amy.
Jenny straightened up. “Can I get a ride to Gibby’s after?”
“Sure,” affirmed Skye.
Jenny climbed into the backseat, hugging her records as she carefully sat down next to the semi-comatose Keefer.
Skye resumed driving along the wide main street to the Nathan’s when a hand fell on Skye’s shoulder.
“Pull over, quick,” said Jenny.
“What?”
“Keef needs to hurl.”
Skye quickly pulled over. Amy and Jenny jumped out of the car and guided Keefer onto the sidewalk. They lowered her towards the gutter where she spent a few long, agonizing minutes, throwing up a seemingly endless stream of brownish liquid.
“And some people still ask me why I quit drinking,” said Skye as they waited for Keefer to finish.
“I think she got some on your tires,” said a pointing Amy.”
Keefer was down on all fours by the time she finally stopped regurgitating. After waiting a few more minutes to see if anything else was going to come out of Keefer, Skye and Jenny gently got her to her feet and slowly guided her back into the car.
Getting to the all-night diner, Skye and Amy guided the uneven Keefer into Nathan’s. Jenny was right behind them, still carrying her stack of records.
“You can leave those in the car,” said Amy.
“Hell no!” protested Jenny. “Some bitch is gonna smash your window and steal these. They’re too fuckin’ valuable.”
They got a few glances and worried looks from the restaurant staff as they came in. They were guided to a booth in the back, conspicuously far away from the other customers.
“Is she gonna be alright?” asked the short and pony-tailed server as Skye maneuvered Keefer into the booth.
“She will be if we can get her some coffee and water.”
“Okay,” nodded the server.
“And also some dry toast? And by dry I mean nothing on it. No butter, no jam, nothing.”
“Dry toast?”
“To help her sober up,” said Skye as she sat down next to Keefer.
Jenny and Amy sat across from Skye. Jenny was still cradling her records.
“You movin’ into Gibby’s?” asked Amy as she scrunched into the booth.
“Nah. I’m just movin’ all my records there.”
“Not enough room at your place?” asked Skye.
“Nu uh. I’m breakin’ up with Mako.”
Amy and Skye exchanged confused looks.
“I don’t get it,” said Amy.
“Well, I’m gonna break up with Mako,” explained Jenny, “ an’ I don’t want him doin’ anything to my records like smashing ’em, or stealing ’em, or selling ’em all when he blows his top.”
“He ain’t gonna get too bent outta shape, is he?” asked Skye.
“Fuck no. He can’t try to fuck me up without gettin’ hurt an’ he knows it.”
Skye was going to offer to go with Jenny to her place in case her boyfriend got violent. She did not know Mako well enough to know if he was the kind of person who would become aggressive, or if he was prone to domestic abuse.
Skye had gone with plenty of women when they had to move their things out of their shared places with their newly exed boyfriends, especially when the scolded partner had the potential for becoming a physical danger. She thought about the time she helped Fleep move out of her place, having to stare down her skinny yet sinewy disaster area of a boyfriend who glared at her and her friends as they helped her move out. She also recalled the time she had to get in between Jozee and her outraged boyfriend, a big hairy bear of a man who look like a deranged biker, when he lunged at her as she started carrying her things out.
In both cases she faced down the would-be attackers. Her reputation as a brawler and a gang member, more than anything else, kept them in check.
She also recalled the day she was over at her friend Dean’s place, when his deranged girlfriend showed up with a crowbar, threatening to give him a bloody concussion. Only Skye and a quickly improvised aluminum bat got her to back off.
Skye glanced at Jenny who was showing her records to Amy.
She decided she trusted Jenny enough to know what she was doing, that she wasn’t going to need her help with Mako.
“Hey, keep an eye on Keef for a sec, wouldja?” asked Skye as she stood up.
“Will do,” said Jenny as she continued to flip through her records.
Skye went to the bathroom, leaving a chattering Amy and Jenny as Keefer had laid her head down on the table.
Inside the bathroom, Skye quickly texted Tremmy, letting her know she had picked up her daughter and they were hanging out in a diner, and that she would stay with her until she brought her home.
Coming back out, there was a cup of coffee, a glass of water, and a plate of dry toast in front of Keefer whose head was still down on the table.
“Did she take our orders yet?” asked Skye as she sat down.
“We decided to wait for you,” said Amy.
“Keef’s the only one whose gotten anything an’ she’s passed out!” said Jenny.
Skye prodded Keefer enough to get her to sip some water and coffee.
Jenny showed off her albums as they waited for their server. “These are all older records from the eighties, before they started doin’ that digitizing shit.”
“How many records you got?” asked Amy.
“With me? Or altogether?”
“Altogether,” confirmed Skye as Keefer put her head back down on the table.
“Shit. At least… I dunno, maybe, nine, ten hundred.”
“Fuckin’ a’,” said Amy. “You haulin’ all your records to Gibby’s one armload at a time?”
“I can call Cappy in the morning. She can help me haul the last boxes. Check it out!” Jenny held up a record. “Adicts. Original vinyl from the early eighties. And lookit here…” Jenny held up another LP. “Varukers. Eighty five! And look at this, early Cock Sparer.”
“Can I see that?” asked Skye.
Jenny handed Skye the record as she continued to describe her collection. Skye was impressed. Looking over the Varukers LP, she was convinced that it was indeed an older pressing.
The server came around and Skye was able to order a large vanilla milkshake. Jenny ordered a pile of curly fries and a large soda.
“Nothin’ for me,” said Amy.
“You not hungry?” asked Skye.
“I ain’t got no money.”
“Jus’ order somethin’,” said Jenny as she kept flipping through her records. “We got you.”
“That’s okay,” moaned Amy.
Jenny looked right at Amy. “We ain’t gonna stuff our faces while you sit there with nothin’. What the hell?”
Amy reluctantly ordered a grilled cheese and a glass of water.
They talked about Jenny’s records and music in general, talking about the last few shows they had been to until the server came back with their food.
Keefer suddenly lifted her head and looked around, her slow eyes peering through her ratty blonde hair.
“What th’ fuck am I doin’ here?” she asked in a scratchy voice.
“I’m askin’ myself that same question,” said Jenny.
Jenny and Amy did most of the talking as they ate. Keefer slowly came back to life, even asking Jenny for some curly fries.
“Can you take me home last?” asked Amy as they walked out to Skye’s car.
“Sure.”
Keefer was able to let Skye know where she was staying. They dropped off Jenny next, carrying her LPs into her friend’s apartment.
Amy was quiet as Skye drove her back to her mother’s place.
“Your ma gonna be mad?” asked Skye.
“Yeah. No doubt she’s still awake.”
“Insomnia?”
“No. If she don’t know where I am then she ain’t gonna sleep until I show up again.”
Skye let out a long sigh. “She knows where you are.”
Amy squinted at Skye. “How would she know?”
“Because I texted her to let her know you were hanging out with me.”
Amy snapped her head up. “You told my mother I was hanging out with you?”
“I didn’t want her to worry.”
“Oh,” said Amy as if she was disappointed.
Amy said nothing more as Skye drove her back to her place near downtown Berkeley.
Skye pulled up to her house.
“Thanks,” said a dour Amy as she opened the car door.
Skye reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Hang on. I know you’re sore because I texted your ma. An’ I know Tremmy can be really twitchy, but I’ve known her for years, before you were born. I just couldn’t not let her know that I had found you.”
Skye took back her hand as Amy sat for a moment.
“Yeah, sure,” said Amy finally. “I guess… that makes sense.”
Amy sat silent for a few more moments.
“Tell you what,” said Skye. “We’ll get Tremmy out to a Gilman show. The three of us and maybe a few more people can form a posse and I’ll see if I can’t get her into the pit so she can get some her damn ya yas out. Then maybe she’ll lighten up and not be such a spaz.”
“Okay,” said Amy with a slight smile.
Skye waited until Amy got inside her house before driving on.
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0B3WBDZP2
Stella Maris is the sequel to my previous novel. Even though it can be read by itself, check out what Skye was up to before her adventures in Stella Maris!
https://www.amazon.com/What-Hell-Ever-Happened-Rozhenko-ebook/dp/B08WC4DK6G/
