Afterlife of Alanna Miller

by Carlton, Demelza

  Not to say all of them were bad – actually, some of them made decent security guards and they wanted the job. There were always a few who were so inured to welfare handouts that they couldn't stick with any job for long, but Otto hadn't struck me as one of those. He was a good, solid bloke to position outside the band's exit door, because he looked scary enough to deter all but the most crazed fan. No, he was like most of the new security guards we hired – just there to collect a paycheck to pay their bills. If another job came up that paid better or had better hours, they'd be gone and replaced with new ones who felt the same way. There were a few who were more experienced, who knew what to look for in order to stop trouble before it started. Then there were the ones who started trouble all on their own.

  Without him here tonight, exit duty fell to me. Wonderful. Especially as last night's concert had demonstrated that this band's fangirls were the crazy, screaming variety I liked least.

  I moved around a lot, checking that everyone was where they were supposed to be, wanting to be nearby in case trouble did start.

  I found myself humming along with the music and I realised it was familiar. This was an Australian band – I'd heard them a fair bit on the radio and even liked a few of their songs. Maybe I'd bought one of their albums. If I hadn't, I should.

  That made a nice change – working with background music I liked. I had a vague feeling that I'd fallen asleep to their music before – a remarkable feat in itself – but that wasn't going to happen now, while I was working. I focussed on the crowd, catching myself humming or singing the words under my breath more than once.

  The band finished their final set. The stage went dark and people started to head outside. As the Arena cleared, I left it to the rest of my team and headed for the backstage entrance. When the band left, I'd need as many staff there as I could get.

  As I waited, I thought of Caitlin. I wondered if she would have wanted to go to this concert. What would it have been like to have been two in the crowd, instead of outside of it, watching for trouble? Would she have enjoyed it? I couldn't remember this band being around when I knew her before, when I might have asked her if she liked them.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small shape in the clear space beside the back entrance, wearing a dark sweater and jeans. For a second, I thought it was her, but the girl darted between two other security guards and into the small crowd of fans waiting for the band and I lost sight of her. Sensing trouble, I followed and grabbed the girl's arm before she could get any further away and pulled her back to the light at the entrance. "Hey, wait a minute. What were you doing there?" I boomed in a loud voice I only used for work.

  A heavy hand came down on my shoulder. "Let her go." This voice was soft with the implied threat of violence. Like a razor sharp knife in a tissue paper sheath.

  I turned to see the face that matched the voice and recognised the band's security consultant. Someone had told me this guy was an ex-US Marine. He was American, certainly, and he'd demonstrated he knew how to protect people better than I did, when we'd discussed security arrangements before the start of the concert. So what was this girl and why...

  I realised I wasn't holding her anymore, my hands up near my shoulders to show they held nothing. She didn't run back into the crowd as I'd expected; she stayed standing next to me.

  The security consultant's gaze dropped from my face to hers. Small, warm fingers slid up my chest, under my jacket and under his hand. I inhaled sharply and closed my eyes as the memory hit. Her hands, sliding around me as I held her on that benighted beach. A beach full of police officers, who all wanted to help her, and she clung to me. She'd been scared and cold, clinging to me for the warmth I could give her to stave off hypothermia. Cold arms and hands and...

  It's cold tonight – how come her hands were so warm?

  Warm fingers effortlessly pried off the vice on my shoulder. I didn't need to look at her face, nor hear her voice. I knew it was Caitlin. It was her fingers on top of my left shoulder and her palm resting against the scar that was all that remained of where I'd been shot. I didn't need to look at her, but I sure as hell wanted to. She was close enough to touch, her shirt brushing against my work jacket, so that I could feel the heat of her body through my shirt. I ached to touch her, to wrap my arms around her and not let her go, but I didn't dare do it.

  "It's all right, Trevor." She smiled at him, the rueful smile I'd seen endlessly in dreams. "I was going to ask if Nathan could see me safely home tonight."

  A chance comment, only just remembered. Her rock star boyfriend. I felt my stomach plunge down to my feet and hit the concrete paving.

  I noticed the drip of liquid on the pavement and followed the path of it up to the source. Her hair was wet, the end of her braid dripping as if she'd just gotten out of the shower and she'd been in too much of a hurry to take the time to dry it properly. Why did she take the time for a shower after the concert, yet not have time to dry herself?

  A shout behind me heralded the kind of trouble I expected. The male singer who headed the band had appeared and the scantily dressed, heavily made up girls clustered near the entrance surged toward him. Yet Trevor the security consultant stood by and didn't budge. I itched to do the job I was here to do, but Caitlin's fingers lingered on my shoulder and I was loath to move away from her. All three of us stood and watched as the girls crowded around him, hiding him from view for a moment before he emerged, now with a girl on each arm, headed toward a dark limousine parked nearby.

  Caitlin lifted her chin. "You'd best make sure Jason gets to the limo without too many of them along. That thing only seats eight and he's already invited way too many people to his private after party." She winked at Trevor. "Then you get an early night. I know Josie's waiting for you in a hotel room somewhere nearby."

  Trevor jerked his head toward me. "You trust him?" His eyes were on Caitlin, as if I wasn't there.

  Caitlin's face lit up with a smile. Her eyes met mine as she replied, "With my life."

  Trevor hurried off toward the singer, who I realised I recognised as Caitlin's green friend, the one who visited her in hospital so many years ago.

  "You're dating him?" I asked her incredulously, as she calmly watched him take off with half a dozen girls who were certainly after more than just his autograph.

  Her eyes narrowed. "Have the orderlies been spreading stories again? I told one of them I had to leave early to meet my friend, who'd just flown in for a concert this week."

  "How can you be a doctor and date him? He loses his lunch at the first sight of blood!" I wailed.

  "That doesn't stop him being my business partner. He sings better than I do and he definitely gets the fans more excited than I ever could, but he'd have nothing to sing about if I hadn't written all his music. His bass guitar work can't carry the melody and he wouldn't have a recording contract without me." She laughed quietly, sounding harder and more businesslike. "I probably should have asked for more than him, given that I do more work, but I don't really need more, and when he makes his flamboyant exit, I get to slip out unseen." She eyed me thoughtfully. "Or I would, if you hadn't been here."

  "I'm sorry," I responded automatically. I was – sorry that I'd messed up her plans, sorry that she had to find out I was nothing but a hired security guard like this, and sorry that she needed a security detail after the events of five years ago.

  "Don't be. I missed you tonight and I intended to call you when I got home. Now I won't have to. Come home with me tonight?" She looked way too eager.

  "Sure." The word was out of my mouth before my brain knew what it was saying. "Um, I have to stick around until we empty the place and lock up, though. It might take an hour." She wouldn't want to wait that long for me. Not when she had rock stars and groupies and God only knew who else to take care of her.

  She shrugged. "I don't mind. I'll be up for a while. I'm always pretty buzzed for hours after a show. I always thought musicians needed drugs to get high, but when you've got th
ousands of people screaming your name...or at least the name of the band, no drug can compare to that high. I'll miss it now this tour's over." She swung her arms, raring to go. "So, what do you want me to do? Patrol the place with you? I promise not to harass the band."

  If she walked by my side, I'd have eyes for nothing else. Someone could set fire to the Arena and I wouldn't notice a damn thing. And I'd be worried that something might happen to her if she were out here on her own...or even waiting in her car. "No," I began slowly, "I think you'd be better off waiting for me in the security office. It's where all the surveillance feeds go, so you can watch me on the dozen or so screens in there, and it's secure, so you'll be safe there until I can leave."

  She grinned. "Sure. I'll keep an eye on things for you."

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Nathan swung his arms wider as we walked through the deserted Arena as if he was trying to make himself look bigger and scarier. Whenever we encountered someone else, he stiffened and looked at them suspiciously while moving just that bit closer to me.

  I found myself smiling at the protective display, knowing it wasn't necessary. No one recognised me. No one ever did. Five years of working in one of Australia's most popular bands and no one looked twice at me. The spotlight was on Jason both onstage and off – we'd made sure of that from the beginning. So without my dramatic, dark clothes and makeup, I was just another groupie or teenage fan to most people. Hell, they didn't even know my name. So much for a rock star life. The money was nice, though. And walking onto that stage, knowing that they were cheering for the band I'd built, from writing the songs and securing a deal, to locking Jason in his hotel room on tour so I knew he'd be there come concert time.

  He'd only disappeared once. It was after we'd opened for another band, but we were playing our own show two nights later in a much more intimate club. I'd insisted on a meeting the afternoon before the concert just so we could take a look around the venue, and he hadn't turned up. Two hours later, Trevor produced him, wearing a pair of handcuffs, a black vinyl g-string and not much else. That's the day Trevor became my permanent security chief...at Jason's expense.

  Well, that was one thing I wouldn't miss – worrying about whether he'd turn up trashed to a concert or not at all. I was done babysitting grown men who should know better. Well...

  I stole a glance at Nathan. He wasn't exactly capable of taking care of himself, either, but that wasn't through being irresponsible. He had an excuse and I owed him a debt. If I took care of Nathan, it wasn't babysitting at all, but repaying a favour that was long overdue. Just as long as I didn't have to deal with finding him twined around several naked women. I wanted him twined around me and only me. If he didn't want that, well, then he could go find someone else who was more to his taste.

  I surveyed the long line of framed posters advertising upcoming shows. "Ooh, Blue Phoenix! They're doing an Aussie tour? It's been a while since their last one."

  Nathan halted. "Who?"

  I laughed. "Blue Phoenix. They're really big in the US, but they're actually a UK band. Jason's a big fan and he persuaded me to agree to open for them at some of their east coast shows. I liked their music well enough, but what I didn't know is that their concert after parties are legendary. Jason thought he was in heaven. When he finds out, he'll beg me to stage a comeback so we can tour with them. I'll go to the concert with you if you want. They are good."

  "Never heard of them. But if they party like your sleazy singer, I'll probably be working that concert. Me and every other security guard they can pull on shift for that." Nathan swiped his pass card over a scanner and punched a code into the keypad, then shouldered open the unmarked door beside it. "We're here. You should be safe in the office. Don't open the door for anyone."

  I assured him I wouldn't.

  Nathan lingered for a moment, then caught sight of something on one of the monitors over my shoulder and unclipped the radio from his belt. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised, lifting the radio to his lips as the security door thudded shut behind him, leaving me alone with the security monitors.

  I sank onto a stool in front of the screens and sighed.

  Despite my feigned excitement in front of Nathan, the prospect of an hour in the security office was boring as all hell, but I figured it was worth the wait. Spending the rest of my evening with Nathan was definitely better than sitting at home by myself, as I had after so many other concerts on the east coast.

  And I'd rarely been into the security office for such a big facility. I tried to ignore the screens, but they quickly sucked me in.

  Drunk fans staggered through the foyer as the merchandise people packed up. The road crew smoked home-made cigarettes outside one of the roller doors, rolling more on the loading dock. I wondered idly if it was tobacco or something else. I'd never bothered to ask.

  An unfamiliar man in a uniform like Nathan's marched along the corridor outside, then paused at the door. I heard the keypad beep and the grinding of the electronic lock before the door swung open and I was face to face with a man I didn't know.

  "Who are you? You're not supposed to be here. Get out," he ordered, striding forward.

  I smiled politely. "Nathan told me to stay here." I deliberately slowed my breathing, trying to stave off panic.

  "Nathan Miller? Bullshit. He's the one who said he'd castrate the first bloke who brought unauthorised personnel into a restricted area, because this band's security chief is one mean bastard. They say he was a marine in Afghanistan. I'm not losing my balls for some teenage fangirl. OUT!" He reached for the baton on his belt.

  I stared at him. Trevor had evidently made quite an impression. But that baton had better stay where it was or this man's genitals were the least of his worries. "No, I'll be staying right here, thank you."

  "No, you won't. If you don't get out on your own, I'm authorised to remove you. Forcibly if necessary." He curled his fingers into fists, flexing his arm muscles. They were probably impressive by most people's standards. "I'm sure you don't want that. Best if you just do as you're told, okay, sweetheart?"

  "It's best if you don't touch me," I replied carefully, eyeing his hands. Surely he couldn't be that stupid.

  Both arms stretched for me.

  Evidently he was.

  His fingertips touched my shoulder.

  And my night went to hell.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  I left the police with the two would-be prize fighters, who'd decided to start a punch-up outside the side entrance. I couldn't get any sense out of the drunks and it was better if they sobered up in the cells for the night, where they couldn't hurt anyone else. What I'd give for a job that didn't involve breaking up brawls. Every damn concert had one. Even the Wiggles one – two mothers screeching at each other, manicured claws out as they pulled each other's hair, while their toddlers threw tantrums on the grass. I'd had enough for one night and the foyer was empty. I intended to lock up, go home and leave the place to the two night shift guys, though I hadn't seen them in over an hour.

  Irritated that I couldn't even raise Steve or Jerry on the radio, I strode back to the control room to see if I could find them on the security cameras. If they were holed up backstage with a couple of fangirls, there'd be hell to pay.

  I swung the door open and stopped dead. "What the fuck happened here?"

  Jerry scooted along the floor, twisting so he could see me. His handcuffs jingled as he sat up. He opened his mouth, but he didn't seem to have the power of speech.

  My eyes darted to the barstool where I'd left Caitlin. The empty barstool now.

  "Where's the girl?" I demanded. "Did they take her?"

  "What girl?" Jerry grunted, wincing as he shifted.

  I pulled my keys out of my pocket and fitted one into the handcuffs. All of ours were all keyed alike, so it only took a moment to free him. "The girl I left here, waiting until I came back. What did they look like? The guys who took her."

  He rubbed his wrists. "Dunno. I didn't get a good l
ook at them, but I figure it must've been at least two big guys to take both of us down. Maybe three. Armed, too. I walked in and saw Steve on the floor over there, handcuffed to the post, so I did what you just did and tried to free him. They hit me from behind and I woke up handcuffed to the other post and my pockets empty. No keys, no radio, no nothing." He nodded at Steve, who looked to be unconscious. "Wake him up. Maybe he knows."

  I nodded. "I will. You start filling out an incident form before you forget anything important. I need details. All of them." Or I wouldn't be able to find who'd taken Caitlin. Shit, how'd they get in here?

  I grabbed a bottle of water from the desk and poured it over Steve's face.

  He woke, spluttering. "Where'she?" he slurred.

  "Where's who?" I asked.

  "Where's that girl?" His head jerked as he searched the room. "Knocked me out. I asked Jerry to help me get free and they got him again, then me. Must've been three big blokes, waiting to ambush me. I went down fighting, I swear, Miller."

  For a bloke who'd gone down fighting, his face was remarkably unhurt. His knuckles, too, I noticed. No sign of damage except for a couple of tiny rips in the front of his shirt.

  My bullshit meter overloaded. These guys were lying – one or both of them, I wasn't sure. Had someone paid them off to get to Caitlin?

  "Did they say where they were taking the girl?" I asked slowly. "How long ago did they leave?"

  Both hesitated for a moment too long before replying. While they argued over the correct answer, I ignored them and headed for the store room where we kept the spare equipment.

  I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to face it, all I saw was our sole riot control shield. The clear plastic reflected the shelves when the light hit it just right and it took me a moment to realise what I was looking at. My breath whooshed out of me with relief and I reached up to the top shelf.