Sheena Is a Punk Rocker
Your ass looks nice in designer jeans, but you freeze at a pass you stop his fingers at the seams, you think that virtue means holding back, what about your problems it’s not virtue that you lack. Sheena stroked the white mass that was her stomach. She twisted and the sheet wrapped tighter around her body. Her hand explored further: she pushed it beneath the band of elastic stitched into the top of her teri-cloth panties. Her fingers got caught in the crisp, curly hair and she pulled them away, examining her clenched fist. A few strands grew out from between the fingers.
Sheena stretched out on the bed. The diffuse light in the room filtered in through a white curtain-covered window. A four-color, cardboard man swung a mug of beer on the wall. It’s ten o’clock, time for her to come in here and harass me. She should let me sleep on Saturdays, jesus christ I get up at eight every other day of the week. The screen rattled. The pigeons outside were cooing. Is it really the pigeons? Maybe it’s the one downstairs again. God she’s making a lot of noise. She’s so scrawny it’s not even pretty. She must diet all the time. What kind of a guy can she have down there? In the morning too? You’d think she get enough at night but not the way they’re going at it now. She’s moaning too much for it to be real. Vinny always wanted me to make sounds, but you shouldn’t fake it too much, just kinda let it come out. He’s not making a sound. Maybe she’s not with a guy. She couldn’t get anybody to pick her up last night so she’s letting it off now. A pigeon pecked against the screen again. Oh, I can’t tell, maybe it’s just one of those goddam birds. Sheena held her breath and listened intently but the sounds of the cars in the street infiltrated her ears; she gave up.
There was a knock on the door. "Agnes, dear...don’t you think it’s time to get up?"
Sheena moaned into the pillow: "Yes mother. I’m practically up already." She rolled over to the side of the bed and after a few moments of contemplation, sat up. Naked except for her panties, Sheena strolled over to her stereo and played the record already on the turntable. You never seem to use your brain, you say it doesn’t matter your friends are the same, you can’t go and you can’t come, the answer and the problem is Valium. She stood in front of the mirror, arms over her head, wrists bound together by invisible but chromed chains. "I love...obscenity," she thought. You don’t have to be thin to be sexy, as long as you’re not fat. It’s really stupid to starve yourself. It’s better to be a little full figured than to get anorexia. Vinny always used to tell me how beautiful I was. He didn’t think I was the slightest bit overweight. Not like that bitch down stairs who starves herself. She won’t even say hello. Not that I’d want to talk to her. But she doesn’t have to ignore me the way she does every time she sees me.
Sheena adjusted her panties so they hung a little bit lower, hugging the flesh just underneath the bulging curve of her belly. She ran her fingers around the bands on her thighs; the elastic slipped into the fold of skin that ran across the bottom of her buttocks. I should lose just a little weight so I can get one of those cutaway one pieces. Just a little. For when me and Jaki go to the beach.
You wear it, wear it, wear it. Take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off.
Sheena grabbed both breasts and pouted her lips at the image in the mirror. You are sexy. She turned and eyed the side view. Yellow underwear is much more ultimate than black underwear, except sometimes, Sheena grinned. She put on her black jacket, the one Vinny had given her, and lit a cigarette. Yellow panties and black leather: awesome. Dead Burnt Bodies is playing at the Pit tonight. Jaki wants to see them too. Sheena blew smoke rings and flicked her ashes into the palm of a severed pewter hand. She held the cigarette between her thumb and index finger, drawing it in front of her left breast. She cupped both hands around the breast and brought the glowing tip closer to her erect nipple. She gloated as the smoke rose from the gray and orange ash, scarcely an eighth inch from the cold, pink flesh. The insides of her thighs were flush with a peculiar warmth.
There was a pounding on the door. Sheena jumped; the cigarette brushed against her leather, ashes fell onto her skin.
"Agnes, come and have breakfast. Right now."
"I’m coming mother." Sheena’s voice was tainted with panic.
"Right now."
Sheena put the cigarette out in the ashtray and scrambled to get dressed. She quickly made an appearance in the kitchen. The plump figure of her mother was busy by the sink.
"Why do you always lock your door?" her mother demanded.
"I was getting dressed."
Her mother started cleaning the counter.
"What do you want to eat?"
"I'll---I don’t want anything to eat. I’m going on a diet."
Her mother was silent for a moment but continued working with the sponge.
"When have we started this?"
"Oh, today I think."
"Well...I don’t have any problem with it, except...do you really think you have to?"
"Just a little bit."
"Don’t become anorexic or anything like that. I’ve heard so many stories and I even seen pictures in the magazines on TV. And you know about the Nolte girl. Well, of course that was just one of the things, but-"
"Don’t worry mother."
Her mother hesitated, and tried to look maternal.
"You know I worry about my little girl."
Sheena moved over to her, and patted her mother’s shoulder twice.
"I understand mom. You don’t have to worry."
A phone call and five minutes later Sheena was out on the street.
Jaki wore a tight pair of faded jeans. She’s got a nice figure. A tube top looks pretty ultimate on her. She should be more assertive. Not that I blame her. An experience like that is enough to mess anybody up, but she should try to forget about it. It could happen to anybody, it was just one of those freak things. Below Jaki’s stiff blonde pompadour were the roots of her natural dark brown color.
"I need a new pair of sunglasses," announced Jaki. "The mirrored kind."
"I was thinking about a few new bandannas," countered Sheena. "Have you seen anyplace that sells fluorescent yellow? The tall one who sits next to us during Steno had an awesome one on the other day."
Sheena decided that the best place to go would be one of the more stylish stores.
"I like it. What do you think Sheena?"
"I think it would look good on you. But don’t you think blue might be even more ultimate?" Blue and black were the colors that looked best on Jaki.
"Hmmm. I suppose. But maybe I shouldn’t get it at all. I’ve already got a black one. And it’s thirty dollars."
Sheena examined the sleek nylon top. "I think you’re right. You might be able to get one almost like it at Raoul’s."
Jaki wandered along the aisle. "Oh look, isn’t this what you were looking for?" She held up a yellow square of cloth.
"Yeah, that’s it." She scanned the store and in a somewhat lower voice asked "How much is it?"
Jaki fumbled with it then saw a sign above the pile of bandannas.
"Four dollars."
The pair meandered out of the store and into the street. "You wanna get something to eat?" asked Sheena.
They stopped inside Tony’s Pizza and each ordered two slices and a Tab, no ice. Sheena led the way to a white formica table in the corner.
"It’s been coming back again." Jaki crumbled a napkin in her hand. Her eyes were dilated and her voice wavered. "It’s covered with blood and it’s screaming at me ‘Mommy, mommy, why, why?’ I wake up, covered with cold sweat, terrified, afraid that I’ll fall asleep and it will come back." Her hands were trembling.
Sheena reached out to comfort her friend. "It’s only a dream Jaki, only a dream."
"I know, but it seems so real and it won’t stop, I try to go to sleep and it won’t leave me alone!" Jaki looked up and clutched Sheena’s hands. A few people at other tables turned to watch them. Jaki sunk back into her seat.
"There, there Jaki. It’s alright, I understand."
"You can’t," Jaki pleaded through glistening eyes. "You just can’t..."
"You want a clove?" asked Sheena.
Jaki reached out for the cigarette Sheena offered her.
"You’ve got to realize that it’s not real. It can’t hurt you," maintained Sheena. She tried to think of a way to change the subject. "Dead Burnt Bodies is playing at the Pit tonight. Do you want to go see them?"
Jaki stared out the window and smoked her cigarette. She always does this to me. It’s hard to have sympathy when she pulls this on me all the time, I can feel sorry but when everybody looks at me because she breaks down like that, she shouldn’t make me go through this.
* * *
The night was hot and muggy. Red and blue lights crackled in the air. Cars honked at each other, avoiding the occasional bottles and boxes that littered the street. Sheena might have liked to live in New York City for awhile but she had to admit L.A. really had it all. When you walk the streets, when you ride the subway, when you pick up your meat, when you talk at me. The two hanging out over there are giving us the eye. I wish she’d straighten up; she doesn’t even know how to hold herself. I bet she doesn’t even notice them. Her problem is that she doesn’t know how to handle boys. If you’re gonna get what you want, you have to play it right.
Sheena’s bright red pants clung tightly to the inside of her thighs. She felt the pressure of the seam against her bulging crotch and remembered her satisfaction with the way she had looked in the mirror. Jaki turned openmouthed towards the two boys leaning against the storefront as Sheena dragged her past them.
Sheena reached into her purse and put a pair of mirrors onto her heavily rouged face. Jaki looked at her blankly for a second, then seemed to comprehend, reaching into her own purse and pulling out a similar pair.
"It’s a block further, isn’t it?" queried Jaki.
"No, the Pit’s right around the corner," asserted Sheena.
"Well, that’s what I meant."
Sheena took a pill bottle out of her purse.
"Do you want one?"
"Reds? Why don’t you give me two."
Sheena emptied two capsules into Jaki’s outstretched palm and popped two into her own mouth. Their plastic taste and texture made her stomach contract into her gut while they still rested on her dry tongue. She gulped. They got stuck in her throat; she swallowed hard. She hated taking pills.
The band was already playing when Sheena and Jaki made their appearance inside the Pit. An enormously obese cretin smiled and fondled Sheena’s hand as he collected a dollar from each of them. Sheena jumped back, but tried to cover her revulsion with an unconvincing attempt at a smile.
The girls got bottles of beer at the bar and then mingled in the crowd in front of the band. Sheena and Jaki had seen them before. The guitar player, bass player and the drummer always wore sunglasses, black, torn T-shirts and ripped jeans. The scrawny, spike-haired vocalist’s name was Johnny. He wore only a pair of black leather pants and untied army boots. Sweat dripped continuously down his chest. His eyes didn’t track: his right eye always pointed off to the side. He groped for and pointed at the audience while screaming at them through the mic. It was difficult to make out what he said over the distorted guitar, pounding bass and throbbing drums. They were a good punk band.
When you lunch with the girls, when you argue with your mother, when you listen to the boss, when you order one of the other---You wear it, wear it, wear it. Sheena and Jaki got high while watching the band. When Sheena went to the bar to get more beer, she stepped on a guy’s foot. She was disappointed because he let her pass unmolested.
During the second break, Ramona, a girl Sheena and Jaki had gone to high school with, came up and talked to them.
"I got stoned with them before in their dressing room," said Ramona. "They all did coke, and Johnny quaffed down a handful of uppers. He also drank halfa bottle of Jack’s .He’s all fucked up. I hope he makes it through the next set. He’s been great tonight."
A guy who looked like he lived in a gym when he wasn’t there at work cleaning it started talking to Ramona. She introduced him as Joey. Sheena couldn’t follow too much of what he was saying, other than the "Uh huh." that was his every other sentence. He kept looking at Jaki as Ramona talked to him. Ramona soon left and Jaki became involved with Joey. He stroked her hair and she sucked and bit his fingers. Sheena heard Jaki squeal "Oh yeeeeaaah" as she wandered away from them to find the bathroom. He’s not exactly being smooth about the whole thing but Jaki doesn’t care. He’s a guy and that’s all she really wants now. She’ll tell me all about how lousy men are tomorrow. What does she know. I try to help her out all the time but she deserts me for the first guy that talks to her. She deserves whatever she gets.
The washroom was far in the back. It smelled like the public toilet it was. When she was finished Sheena strayed towards the further reaches of the hallway. She passed an open door and glanced inside. Johnny lay sprawled out on the floor. He was pale; his were limbs twitching. He looked up at her through his bright red left eye. "Hey babe." He gripped his stomach. "Johnny."
"Yeah, that’s what they call me."
"Are you alright?"
"I’m fine."
It was a small, dirty room. A bed was backed up against one wall. An empty Jack Daniel’s bottle was on the floor. "Did you like the show, babe?" he asked.
"You were great."
He rested his right hand on his left outstretched arm. There was blood on the backsides of both of his hands; crosses had been cut into the skin.
"You put it on, put it on, put it on. Why babe?"
She looked at him for a moment, and then said "I listened to that song this morning. I think you’re the greatest, Johnny."
Sheena knelt down over him. He massaged her thigh.
"You want me to help you onto the bed?"
"That depends, babe."
Sheena got up and closed the door. She pulled Johnny up and helped him stagger towards the bed. As he lay on the bed, she kneeled on the floor beside. She examined the needle marks on his arms. He was shivering. She put her hand on his clammy chest. His body jerked. Sheena leaned over him. Her lips touched his mouth, and she tasted the nausea.
Copyright © 1983, 1997 by Edward Beuchert