by S. E. Akers
“Nothing?” Tanner posed again, followed by an awkward lull.
The silence was getting to me. “Is there something you needed?”
“No,” Tanner confirmed curtly. “I’ll let you go.”
“Wait. You called me,” I stated. I felt our connection fade immediately. Ugh! He hung up on me!
“What’s wrong?” Katie asked.
“Tanner just called,” I grumbled.
“Did you get busted?”
“No,” I replied, relieved. “I thought he was suspicious at first, but he was acting kind of odd, like he was confused or something?”
“About what?”
“He didn’t say, and then he hung up on me.”
“Did you two get into it?”
“No.”
“You’re right. That is odd,” Katie teased.
“Funny,” I remarked as I hurried across the street.
I made it back to the hotel just in time to rendezvous with our group. Everyone was standing around chatting, excited about the club. The venue we were scheduled to attend was within walking distance, so after a lengthy lecture on “what-not-to-do-on-Bourbon Street”, we headed out the door. Within a few jazz-filled minutes of weaving through the crowded streets, we arrived at our designated swanky nightclub.
The loft-like space looked like a throwback to New Orleans vintage hay-days. More murals adorned the walls, but these depicted all the city’s finest and infamous landmarks. Mrs. Mesure would have loved them. French antique furniture had been strategically placed all around the open, airy room. The chairs looked lovely, but their comfort left little to be desired. I’ve sat on boards with more give. A small band was playing a medley of classic jazz numbers for us off in a separate corner, setting the mood. The attentive waiters kept trying to shove slices of King Cake in my face. I’m sure the colorful pastry was delicious, but I told every one of them I was still stuffed from dinner. That’s really not what it was. All this opulence was just another uncomfortable reminder of “who” was footing the bill…an Xcavare, and it made my stomach turn. My vacation wasn’t turning out to be as relaxing as I’d hoped. I was just glad that I’d brought Katie. She seemed to be enjoying the trip just fine, definitely more than me. The longer she listened to the lively music that filled the air, the more jubilant waves I sensed. I just wondered if all this musical merriment had taken the focus off what tonight was…another daggone full moon.
We stayed at the club for a little over an hour. Just as we were about to leave, I spotted Kara in the hallway flirting with some strange guy. He handed her a flyer, kissed her hand, and then waved good-bye. There was something about him that gave me the creeps. Not his looks or his attire, but something sure was stirring my senses. Good thing he was gone.
Our chaperones called a short meeting in the lobby as soon as we got back to the hotel. They announced that we would be departing early in the morning and advised us to retire to our rooms. Turned out it wasn’t a courteous request. Anyone caught outside of the hotel would be issued a one-way ticket home and not allowed to walk at graduation or even attend the prom. There were a few moans, but we all headed for the bank of elevators, heeding the warnings of our imposed curfew. It was only 9:45, and the thought of a ten-hour stretch of being cooped up with Kara made me want to lock myself in the bathroom.
“I hope you don’t snore,” Kara growled as we stepped off the elevator.
Maybe I’ll lock HER in the bathroom.
I opened the door, only to be startled by a housekeeper who was already in our suite, standing beside my bed. After my long, crazy day of run-ins with strangers, this was the last thing I needed. Kara sensed my confusion when she pushed past me.
“She’s just here to turn down the bed, Shiloh,” Kara assured, even though she hurried to her bags to make sure they were sticky-fingers free. The housekeeper pulled me over to where my suitcases were sitting on the floor. Before I even got a chance to open them, she had already taken the liberty.
“What are you doing?” I asked the woman. She just motioned to the bed and smiled.
“I get bed clothes,” the housekeeper replied as she searched through my things. Her appearance and broken sentence innocently screamed immigrant laborer. Her face lit up when she located my new green silk pajamas, seeming almost as happy as if they were her very own, and handed them to me delicately. With my hands now occupied, she took the liberty of trying to unfasten my necklace. I jumped away. She could tell that I was upset. Without delay, the housekeeper smiled and led me over to the closet where a hidden safe lay.
“Put nice things in here,” she instructed. I hinted an apologetic smile, not realizing that she was only doing her job. After all, I wasn’t used to such a fuss. I mentally whispered a quick “good-night” to Katie and removed both of my necklaces. My watch was next, but I felt naked without my rings. Those stayed on.
“All nice things,” the housekeeper added with a firm nod. She took my pajamas and disappeared into the bathroom. I didn’t change my mind about the rings, but her order did prompt me to grab one more thing. Slyly, I snuck the hilt out of my purse and placed it inside. There, I noted as I shut the door. Soon the maid returned and locked it with a key, which she handed to me.
Kara ran over to the closet. “Hey, I have some jewelry that I need to put in there,” she whined. The maid scanned her hands. The only jewelry Kara wore was a knock-off TAG Heuer watch, Ty’s class ring (still), and a chintzy silver and gold cluster ring, laden with tiny diamond chiplettes.
“No, no. I say, nice things,” the housekeeper stressed (and not politely).
“Ugh!” Kara grunted.
I smiled, with my head down, all the way to the bathroom. After a quick chat with Mother Nature, I brushed my teeth and threw on my pajamas. I was ready to officially check “Day-One” off my calendar. Total count of crazy occurrences… Only two, I noted. Well, maybe three, I recounted as I opened the door, thinking about the birth certificate and the odd passport agent.
I stepped out of the bathroom, donning my new pj’s, only to realize that the overly attentive housekeeper was still here. She flashed me a grin and then with a firm jerk, dragged me to my bed. She fluffed my pillows as I slid under the covers and before I knew it, the doting maid had popped a chocolate truffle into my mouth. I almost choked when she smacked it shut. I thanked her with a nod and an uneasy smile while I secretly prayed her domestic duties were finally coming to an end.
“My bed needs to be turned down too,” Kara demanded. “And I didn’t get a chocolate. Where is it?” The plump, dark-haired woman barely acknowledged her with a look, but I could see an underlying scowl. She kept her eyes on me — and only me — as she tucked in my sheets, a little too tightly for my taste. Then unexpectedly, she stroked my face tenderly. Now that was inappropriately bizarre. I heard Kara’s exaggerated grunt, but I just passed her sweet and overly committed attitude off as part of her job, or at the least, she was making a good impression for a generous tip. She even waved to me when she left, finally. After a few more grunts and several dramatic smacks to her pillows, Kara was off to bed, angry and deprived. Rest assured, she bitched about that damn chocolate for a solid minute.
Maybe she is starving, I mused. As I lay all snuggled up in my bed, my eyelids started to twitch. The housekeeper had forgotten to close the draperies. Beams of light streaming from the full moon were smacking me in the face. My eyes remained wide-open as I stared out the window.
Another missed shot with another full moon…
I hadn’t been asleep for very long when I heard a loud “clank”. With my reservations about Katie and my hilt several feet away in the room safe, I shot straight up in bed. The room seemed still. Only a small streak of light was shining into our quarters from under the bathroom door.
Kara, I grumbled as I resituated myself amongst the covers, now facing her side of the room. One of my eyes popped open. Why is her purse lying on the bed?
Filled with suspicion, I threw back the covers and
crept out of bed. I didn’t have to actually take the liberty of invading her off-limits, girly domain. The careless twit had left the incriminating evidence lying beside it. One genuine, “fake” West Virginia driver’s license and the flyer I’d seen her with earlier. It was an advertisement for a nightclub. At the sound of the bathroom door “creaking” open, I hid the contraband behind my back.
“What are you doing up?” Kara asked, startled.
“What about you?” I countered with a smile.
“I had to pee,” Kara scoffed.
“Really? In a black mini and a look-at-my-boobs top? Does that help the flow?”
“I need some air…so I thought I would go for a walk,” she clarified. With a shit-eaten grin, I gave her a good once-over, noting the height of her five-inch heels.
I grinned. “What corner are you workin’?”
Kara flipped me off with a wave of her hand and went straight for her purse. “Just go back to bed,” Kara ordered as she rushed to the door.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I asked as I pulled her fake license out from behind my back and flicked it between my fingers. Totally busted, Kara’s face drooped into a frown. Suddenly, a muffled knock on the door broke the silence.
“Whooo could that be?” I teased as I ran to open the door. Low and behold, there was Mike Riverside. He edged into the room.
“Ty’s getting us a cab. Are you ready, Kara?” Before she even got a chance to answer, he asked, “I thought you said, ‘Shiloh didn’t want to come’?” Kara’s mouth fell open. “Are you going too?” Mike asked, this time, directed at me.
“NO!” Kara growled loudly. With the door still open, both Mike and I shushed her. “I said, ‘she couldn’t’,” Kara whispered, trying to cover her butt. “She doesn’t have a fake ID.” Now that I knew Ty was a part of this covert escapade, my interest was piqued. After all, I’d apparently been invited. I couldn’t turn them down. Now how rude would that be?
“That’s not a problem. I can get into Nocturne,” I assured them as I waved the flyer in the air. Kara stomped her foot on the floor.
“She doesn’t have anything appropriate to wear,” Kara contended. I rolled my eyes, knowing that “appropriate” in Kara’s world meant “club-whore couture”, and of course, she was right. All of my purchases from yesterday were in the realm of trendy & classy — not skimpy & trashy.
“That’s true,” I agreed as I eyed her suitcases, just to piss her off. Kara’s eyes exploded as soon as she’d caught my drift.
“No way!” Kara grunted.
“Hmmm… Maybe Ms. Fitz has something. But her clothes aren’t what you’d call ‘appropriate’ either — but she’s got great taste,” I remarked and pretended to head for the door.
“Just give her something of yours and let’s go,” Mike whined as he grabbed my arm and swung me back into the room. “We’ll be waiting out front. Hurry up!” Kara turned up the heat on her stare as soon as the door closed.
“Well?” I probed. Kara stomped over to her suitcases and threw out several things. She “claimed” some of them were skirts, but they covered less than a wide belt. I finally found a not-too-revealing fitted black top. “This will do,” I remarked.
“I was saving that!” Kara pouted.
“Are you sure about that?” I posed with a tattletale smile. Kara shook her head and slammed her suitcase shut.
“Just hurry up!” Kara grumbled. I grabbed a pair of my new booty huggin’ jeans, along with my kick-ass black leather boots and trotted triumphantly into the bathroom. I was dressed and ready to go in three-minutes flat, but to my disgust (not my surprise), I stepped out of the bathroom to discover that the little bitch had already split.
Dammit!
Rest assured I could catch up to her, what with it taking several minutes to wind around the building and then the sluggish elevator ride down to the lobby — but I would have to go out the window (down several stories) and then hightail it through the courtyard. I threw back the closet doors and unlocked the safe. I had to take my hilt. A simple charm would probably do the trick, but knowing the Onyx had already sent one of his goons after me, I didn’t want to take that chance. Yes — Paranoia is a bitch. I didn’t give the watch a second thought. We were going to a “public” club in a group — a group that included me (who was packing), a grouchy slut, and two strapping guys. How much supernatural danger could there possibly be? The amethyst was a must. I had to have it in case Tanner called, especially after that crazy chat we had earlier.
I stared at Katie’s diamond, reeling with guilt. I felt bad enough about the full moon. Now, I was leaving her behind and locked in a safe — but assuredly, leaving her out. With a quick containment spell to tuck her officially in, I grabbed my purse and dashed to the balcony.
The intricate wrought-iron railing swayed my decision to jump, five floors. I landed like a cat and invisibly raced across the courtyard. Good thing too. Coach Hayes was chugging a tall mug of beer at the outside bar. Once I hit the lobby and saw that the coast was clear, I rematerialized and strolled casually towards the door where Mike and Ty stood waiting. As I’d predicted (and to my delight), Kara was just rounding the corner.
“Come on, Kara. You’re making us late!” I goaded with a smile. Once her shock had subsided, she charged like a raging mad bull through the lobby.
“How the heck did you get down here…so quick?” Kara demanded when she caught up to us, still flabbergasted.
“The window,” I remarked with a smile. Ty ushered us over to a red and black cab.
“That’s five stories?” Ty posed, both confused and impressed, as he opened the door and motioned me inside.
“You mean you shinnied down the side of the building?” Mike laughed.
“Well, Kara’s not the only one who can work a pole,” I replied with a wink and then hopped in the cab.
Chapter 14 — Shaken and Stirred
After several sharp twists and screeching turns, we arrived at our destination, Nocturne — a waterfront warehouse that hugged the edge of the Mississippi River, beyond the boundaries of the French Quarter. Heavy gobs of mortar smothered the old bricks on the building’s exterior and all of its windows had been blacked-out with paint. It was not what I’d expected. The rundown establishment was a far cry from the colorful French Acadian architectural beauties dripping with lacy wrought iron that I’d seen all day. The club’s entrance was located on the side of the building in a gloomy alleyway. Its only decorative boast was a modest black-lettered sign mounted above a red-painted door. However, the bouncer outside didn’t disappoint. The hulking man stood about six and a half feet, though four of those inches had been graciously contributed by his sweeping “up-do”.
I grinned when I noticed its length was all “party in the back”. A Louisiana-waterfall.
He certainly had the muscles required for his job. The light-skinned man’s bulging arms looked like overfilled balloons that could burst at any second, and the black t-shirt he was wearing hugged his pects like he’d purposely bought it three sizes too small.
The bouncer didn’t say a word. He merely grunted and held out his hand, part of his intimidation act for sure. Kara was the first to whip out her cleverly-crafted card. He reached into a curious box sitting nearby and pulled out a stamp. Once she’d been officially marked with a strange symbol in red ink, the bouncer waved her in with a sly smile. Since I didn’t have one of those deceptive golden tickets, I pretended to dig through my purse and motioned the guys on ahead. Ty and Mike showed theirs and were ushered in, but not with the same enthusiasm — not even a stamp. With the door now closed and my trio of classmates on the other side, I abandoned my phony search and raised my head.
“Don’t have a fake one like your friends, do you?” the bouncer asked bluntly.
“No,” I revealed, busted on both counts. I stood there uncomfortably as the man’s eyes surveyed me like a map, mainly leering at the mountains above the equator to get a good look at their peaks.
Just when I’d thought I was going to have to compel him, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a different stamp.
“This is my personal mark,” the bouncer announced, like he was doing me a favor, and went to stamp my hand. He tried several times, slamming it harder and harder with every attempt, but the ink wouldn’t take.
“Maybe it’s dry?” I posed politely, hoping to stop this idiot’s personal attack on my hand.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be looking for you when mass starts,” he stressed as he opened the door. I could feel the creep ass-eyeing me as I walked past him. Uck! Before I entered, the bulky bouncer grabbed my arm. “You and the other chick are the only reason I let your boyfriends in. But they don’t look so tough,” he boasted with a flex of his muscles. That sight sent my stomach straight into a flip.
Why should that even matter? Now free from his nauseating grasp, I stepped through the doorway to find Ty waiting on me. Mike had gone on ahead to grab a table, and of course, Kara had diligently followed.
We pushed our way through the crowded entry hall and ended up on the outside of two massive metal doors. Good thing Ty brought along his manners because I’d left my gloves back home, and I sensed they were made iron. Like a gentleman, Ty pulled it open and motioned for me to go in.
This part of my “first time to a big city club” experience didn’t disappoint. The joint was dark with only streaks of white and blue neon lights outlining the shadowy figures. A smoky haze that doused the room helped disperse some much-needed light and lent the space a mysterious sort of vibe. My eyes were drawn over to the center of the club, where a circular bar sat below a massive pendulum clock that swayed back and forth. It was suspended from a beam below a rooftop skylight, seven-stories up. The music blasting from the speakers was hard and edgy. It wasn’t bad, just loud — really loud. The bass alone was making the metal clasp on my bra quake. I asked Ty if he knew what “mass” was all about, but I didn’t think he’d heard me over the booming noise.