On the night of her eighteenth birthday, Desiree Mitchell blacked out. When she awoke the next morning, her head hurt and she was in an unfamiliar bed. Naked under the sheets, her anxiety and panic escalated.
Desiree turned to the bare back of a stranger. The pale back was slender touched by shoulder length brown hair. Anticipation was killing her, but she didn’t dare move as she wasn’t quite ready for the confrontation.
Motionless, she pondered whether to stay a few more minutes in an effort to recall the night’s events or to sneak out of bed, get dressed, and get the hell out of there. Her internal debate was disturbed by pounding on the door.
“Liam,” a woman’s voice squawked. “Wake up, ya bum!”
More pounding ensued. Desiree searched the floor for her clothes. Some excavating under the bed revealed her bra. Across the room, she recognized her black dress.
“I’m gonna open dis door, Liam. Liam!”
Finally, the body on the bed stirred. He sat up and yawned. Upon seeing Desiree, he said, “Hey, the Birthday Girl.”
“Right,” she said, embarrassed. “Liam, I presume?”
“Liam,” the woman warned, “I’m openin’ dis door right now.”
The barrier was broken. A bitchy middle aged woman carrying a brown plastic laundry basket walked in. Clearly disgusted, she shook her head.
“Look at dis room. It’s not even healthy,” she mumbled as she made her way through. “Hello, Sarah; I’m glad ya back.”
Liam leaned back on one elbow. “Mom, this is ah…”
“Desiree,” she said meekly.
“Desiree,” Liam repeated as if it were on the tip of his tongue.
Liam’s mom stood from picking clothes off the floor. She glared at Desiree. “Huh.”
She said, “You shouldn’t have young girls in ya bedroom, Liam. Ya gonna git arrested for statutory rape and you know I’m not gonna go git you outta prison. If ya gonna be like your father, you can move out right now. I don’t need this kind of aggravation.”
Liam laughed. “Desiree’s eighteen, as of last night.”
“Well, good for her,” she said sarcastically. “You gonna make it outta dat bed and go ta work today or do I have ta drag dat mattress out on da street, wit ya still in it?”
“Well,” Desiree interrupted, “I should be going.”
Liam’s mom pointed a finger at her. “Oh no, ya don’t leave ‘til the bum gits ya somethin’ to eat at least. Lawd knows what went on in here last night. I know I don’t want ta know, but let the bum git ya somethin’ ta eat and bring ya home.”
Desiree shook her head. “That’s unnecessary. I’ll catch a cab outside.”
Liam’s mom asked, “Where da hell she thinks she is, Liam?”
Liam put on a robe as he got out of bed. “Look, Desiree, this is New Orleans East; there are no cabs outside. This is suburbia. Come have a cup of coffee and I’ll bring you home.”
“No problem,” Desiree tried again. “I’ll just call a cab.”
“Lawd,” Liam’s mom said with a quick hand to her heart. “You got money to burn? It’ll cost ya $50 ta get anywhere from here.”
Liam took Desiree’s hand and brought her into the next room. “Here, sit.” He pulled out a chair in front of a round table. “I’ll make some coffee.”
He turned on the TV and went into the kitchen. Desiree was unprepared for the muted porno movie that came on. She searched for someone to realize the mistake, but no one was there.
Suddenly, she heard high pitched yelping. In the corner, a dog was barking.
“Shut up, Cheri,” Liam’s mom screamed from his bedroom. “Cheri, shut up.”
Desiree watched the dog quietly curl up into a ball on her blanket.
Liam’s mom shuffled in on her pink fuzzy slippers, carrying the laundry basket. Regardless of the dog’s silence, she said, “Shut up, Cheri.” Upon seeing the porn, she spit, “Filth!” before shuffling out of the room.
Liam returned with a gallon of milk, two cups of coffee, and two cheese sandwiches.
Pointing to the movie, he asked, “Seen this one before?”
“Nope.”
He handed her a sandwich.
“No thanks.” She felt a wave of nausea. “I’m really not hungry,” she admitted before taking a sip of the coffee.
While Liam put both sandwiches away and drank half a gallon of milk, Desiree studied the room. As in Liam’s room, the windows were heavily draped so that if the digital clock on the shelf didn’t specify p.m., one might not know if it were 3:16 in the morning or the afternoon.
Liam got up. “I can see you aren’t really into this.” He pushed stop on the VCR and said, “I’m gonna get dressed for work, then I’ll bring you home.”
“Thanks.”
Desiree stared at the static on the screen, mesmerized, until he returned. Liam was dressed in a pizza delivery uniform. He jiggled his keys.
“Ready?”
“Oh, yes!” She jumped up.
Outside, the daylight burned their eyes. Desiree squinted at the suburban neighborhood. In the driveway was a peach colored 1965 Mercury Comet. Desiree smirked as she waited on the passenger side.
Liam waved for her to come over to the driver’s side.
“I’m driving?” she asked.
“Nah, that door doesn’t work. You’ll have to crawl over.”
On all fours, Desiree was surprised by trash piled to the seats. The lack of leg room forced her to sit Indian style.
As Liam got in, he said, “Sorry about the trash. I don’t believe in littering.”
Desiree pulled the lap seat belt across her waist. “I guess you don’t believe in trash cans either?”
Liam laughed nervously. “So, where do you live?”
“Mid City.”
He started up the car. “Cool.”
Desiree was uncertain whether he thought that her living in Mid City was cool or if he was just relieved that his car started.
He avoided the interstate in the Comet and took the long route instead. Liam and Desiree rode in silence for fifteen minutes before she spoke.
“Take a left here.”
Liam said, “I guess you probably think I’m a big loser and everything.”
Desiree moved a fast food wrapper away from her knee. “Well, your home life seems a little caustic and this car could sure use a cleaning, big time; but you seem nice and you do have a job.”
“Yeah,” he added with sudden confidence, “and I’m an artist.”
“Really?”
He pointed to the glove compartment. “Open it.”
Mold from a jelly donut touched the dash.
Desiree said, “I’m scared.”
“It’s o.k.; nothing will bite you.”
Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob. The door came down easily, but was obstructed by the high level of trash.
Liam said, “Take one of those.”
“A comic book?”
Liam tucked his hair behind his ear nervously. “Uh, yeah, a comic. That’s the first one. I only made a few copies of it. I’m working on a series that I hope I can make into a graphic novel.”
“Oh.” Desiree absently rolled up the comic book. Using it to point, she said, “Hey, take a left on Esplanade.”
Liam tried again, “So, yeah, I’ve got some good ideas for the next one.”
“That’s great.” She used the rolled up comic again. “Here, pull over right here. I live in that yellow building. Thanks for the ride. I know this is way out of your way and all.”
“Desiree, I know we don’t really know each other, but I sense that there’s something special about you. I’d like you to consider seeing me again.”
His little boy lost good looks were charming. She said, “Maybe. I don’t know. Why don’t you give me your phone number.”
Liam unfurled and flattened out the comic book on her lap. “It’s at the back. Promise me that you’ll read it. It won’t take up too much of your life. Who knows, you might actually enjoy it.”
“Alright,” she promised.
“Fair enough,” he said. Liam opened his door and helped her crawl out.
They awkwardly tried to shake hands, but in the end, Desiree gave him a small kiss on the cheek. As he sped away in the Comet, she wished she could remember how they met.
*
Desiree read the title of the comic, The Noble and Zany Adventures of Onion Head and the Peach Comet. She had to admit his artwork was good.
She thought after the first page, she’d put the comic down forever, but to her surprise, it was well written and kept her attention to the end. Liam McSeveney’s phone number was on the back page.
Forgetting the unwritten paper for her Ethics class, Desiree contemplated the correlation between the hero Onion Head and his creator Liam McSeveney.
She was acquainted first hand with the anti-littering mission, but Onion Head needed to come up with a way of disposing the trash because the Peach Comet was becoming inundated.
Most intriguing to Desiree was the introduction of a possible sidekick, the suspiciously beautiful and platinum blonde knockout Cauli Flower. Onion Head first spotted her in City Park picking up litter with a spike. He then drove by daily in the Peach Comet to watch her, but he didn’t approach her. Desiree wondered if this was Onion Head as stalker or a horny Liam McSeveney.
Desiree needed to know what would happen next. Perhaps, Liam McSeveney was deeper than the surface puddle she had assumed. Maybe he needed to be nurtured. Desiree found herself dialing that phone number at the back of the comic.
*
“No, Cauli Flower should be more than a love interest. It’s obvious that Onion Head cannot go it alone,” Desiree argued.
Liam poked her left breast. “She’s just eye candy.”
Three weeks after meeting her, Liam had moved in. With his new sense of self, Desiree felt that he took too many liberties, but she loved him. Onion Head had made her love him. She recruited him out of his mother’s house, rescued him from the soulless pizza job, and taken him into her efficiency nest.
Desiree shoved his finger away. “Eye candy, my ass. She’s going to develop a formula that instantly turns trash into a super fertilizer capable of turning barren wastelands into abundantly productive vegetable gardens, providing food for the starving masses.”
“Shit, she can do that?” Liam sat up. He stuck his tongue in her mouth. Pulling away, he said, “Let’s write it.”
She gave him two months to work on the graphic novel before he had to find a job. He complied willingly. However, six months quickly passed and they were still living off of her student loans.
*
The coffee cups piled up in the sink. The refrigerator was overdue for defrosting. Despite three finals the next week, Desiree could only think about the graphic novel. Frustrated with Liam’s lack of enthusiasm, she had come to realize that he wouldn’t write or draw anything unless she hounded him.
“Don’t you think the Peach Comet needs a new engine or something?” she asked. “Maybe, Cauli could modify it to run on trash?”
“Hmm,” he mumbled as he doodled on a tablet. “Sure, write it.”
“Liam, I need your input. I’ve written the last ten pages by myself.”
“Hey,” he whined, “I’ve gotta do all the art.”
“Alright. That’s true. If you want to give me sole byline for the writing, I’ll write the whole damn thing.”
Liam scoffed. “Yeah right. That’s not gonna happen.”
“We’re going to share the byline then, right?” Desiree arched her right eyebrow.
“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled and returned to drawing.
*
The recycle bins were stacked behind the Comet. Desiree sighed. That his car had not moved meant that Liam did not bring the manuscript to the copiers as she’d asked him to do. Her hope that Liam would also drop off an application at the organic food store down the street was dashed.
Opening the door, she found him still in bed.
“Wake up, you bum.”
Liam didn’t stir. She kicked him, nothing. The insomniac, up all night, was now impossible to rouse.
The semicircle of various bell and novelty alarm clocks around his head looked undisturbed. Desiree checked each one. The train alarm clock must have done its entire cycle of chuga-chuga’s and choo-choo’s. Likewise, the airplane alarm’s realistic propeller and engine sounds and the disco ball clock’s spinning lights and disco tunes had failed to wake Liam. Big Ben and Little Ben had let her down.
Resentment rising, Desiree asked, “Do I have to drag you down those steps with you still on that mattress?”
*
Buzzzzzzzzzz! Liam sat on the toilet in the cramped bathroom as Desiree used the clippers all the way around his head. Brown locks fell to the floor like great turkey feathers being plucked. She left only the top of his head intact.
“How’s it look?” he anxiously asked. “Of course, you realize I’ll never be able to get a job now.”
“Yeah, I’ve been so impressed by the way you’ve been actively job hunting since you’ve moved in here.”
“Hey, I’m an artist.” He insisted, “Let me look at my head.”
“Not yet. I still need to spike the top and shave all around with a straight razor.”
“Christ, you’re killing me, Des,” he whined. “I’m claustrophobic in here.”
“Transforming into a superhero has its sacrifices, Mr. McSeveney.”
“Mr. McSeveney, I love when you call me that. It makes me forget for a second how indebted I am to you.” Liam hugged her hip closer to his face. “Miss Cauli Flower, are you gonna go blonde for me?”
Desiree glanced in the mirror. She was attached to her long black hair. She’d been a redhead before, but didn’t think she could pull off platinum.
“I-I don’t know, Liam.”
“Aw, c’mon. Marilyn was really a brunette and she rocked as a blonde, babe.”
“Hmm,” she groaned.
*
After eight hours at the salon, Desiree became a blonde for Onion Head. Her hair lost five inches, was set, and brushed out to look just like the immortal Cauli Flower. They took photographs for the back cover of the graphic novel.
After months of bickering over bylines, The New Adventures of Onion Head with Cauli Flower and the Peach Comet was published. Despite their earlier agreement, Liam McSeveney received full byline with only a warm dedication and thanks to Desiree Mitchell. He promised that he would share the byline with her in the next graphic novel.
The book became somewhat of a regional success and they were invited to comic book conventions in the area. Liam and Desiree were enjoying their celebrity. Their fans were especially endeared to them because they were easily identifiable as their characters.
*
The Ballroom of The Holiday Inn on the West Bank Expressway was lined with portable tables. Unlike the big conventions that advertised such stars as Adam West or Stan Lee, this was the small time. The stars were Onion Head and Cauli Flower, their fourth convention this year.
Desiree blotted the perspiration from her face. Adjusting her platinum wig, she waited for Liam to get out of the Peach Comet, their “show car”. It had been five years since the first time Desiree had crawled out of the Comet. She detested it, even now that it was free of trash.
Inside, they got their keys and dropped a few things off in the room before heading back downstairs. Liam and Desiree scanned the ballroom. People were just getting set up and only a few conventioneers were milling about.
“Let’s find the bar,” Desiree said desperately.
Some guys in baseball sleeved t-shirts called out to Desiree, “Hey Cauli Flower!”
She waved, but bee-lined it to the bar.
They put away three whiskey sours each before they started to relax. It took at least that much alcohol for them to enjoy each other’s company again.
“Christ,” Liam asked, “Did you see Veronica and Jughead?”
Desiree spit out her maraschino cherry. “Oh, my god! Really? Do people still buy Archie comics?”
“Apparently so, apparently so,” he said.
Three teenage girls suddenly surrounded Liam.
“Yea! It’s Onion Head,” they squealed.
One young blonde begged him to sign a copy of the new graphic novel. “Please make it out to Candy.”
Liam wrote: To the lovely Candy, Nothing is sweeter than you! Stay true, Liam McSeveney a.k.a. Onion Head
Desiree wrote the entire second novel and was rewarded this time with a shared byline. She clicked the ballpoint pen absently, but as usual, the fan didn’t want her autograph.
Desiree ordered another whiskey sour and stared at Liam’s back. This was becoming a regular thing at the conventions. She remembered the first time she woke up in his bed staring at his bare back and wondering who he was. Desiree felt a ripple of déjà vu as she studied his back today. Who was he now?
It was time for their act. Desiree tore him away so they could do their “shtick”, as she called it, up on stage. The crowd was receptive. Onion Head and Cauli Flower exited to a standing ovation.
Unfortunately, celebrity, no matter how small, can bring about temptations.
After manning the comic table alone for over an hour, Desiree got aggravated. “Where the hell is he?” she grumbled. She left their station to search for him.
In their room, Desiree found Liam having sex with the sixteen-year-old Candy.
“Look at this room,” Desiree mumbled as she picked up Liam’s Onion Head jumpsuit from the floor. “It’s not even healthy.”
Desiree kicked Liam’s underwear up on a chair with the toe of her red pump. “One of these days you’re going to get arrested for statutory rape.” She shook her head and mumbled, “I don’t need this kind of aggravation.”
Over at the dresser, she pulled off the platinum wig. In the mirror, Desiree fluffed her black hair. She touched the circles under her eyes. At twenty-three, she had aged quickly taking care of Liam.
Desiree thought about their third novel. If only she could draw, she could get it out much sooner. “Damn, lazy bum.”
Through the mirror, she shifted her focus to Liam’s back as he humped Candy. “Filth.”
***
Kristin Fouquet writes from lovely old New Orleans, a city where the inspired feel sultry and the rest just feel sweaty.
Last update : 25-06-2008 21:55
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