by Cj Omololu
There are no mirrors around, and not enough light to see my reflection in the windows. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“I have to admit, it’s pretty badass to sneak all the way down here in the middle of the night. I wasn’t sure you had it in you,” she says, stepping back to take one last look at her work. “Maybe Alicia isn’t as imaginary as you think.”
The swagger in her step gets more pronounced the closer we get to the door of the club, and I’m amazed as always at the confidence she has in any situation. Ava glances toward the cashier. “I drove. You owe me one cover charge.”
“Fine,” I say, digging in my pockets for some cash.
The sound of the band gets louder as we turn the corner into the main room of the club, the drums keeping perfect time to the pounding of my heart. The club is in what looks like an old theater. Even in the dark I can see that the ceilings are flecked with gold and the stage is draped in heavy, blood-red velvet curtains. It’s the perfect frame for Eli as he rakes his hand over his guitar, sweat glistening on his forehead as he sings into the microphone like it’s any other night. The feeling of relief that he’s okay is stronger than any emotion I remember. He’s fine. Oblivious. I only hope I can keep it that way.
The floor is crowded with girls pressed up against the front of the stage, and I get a sick feeling in my stomach as I realize that I’m not with him anymore. He won’t jump down from the stage after their set and walk toward me, the ends of his hair damp from the heat. I shake my head because there’s no room for that kind of sentiment right now. Now is about keeping Eli alive, not about keeping him with me. I know he can’t see me in the back of the club, but I suddenly feel very exposed.
“They’re good, aren’t they?” Someone shouts into my ear, and I jump back, my skin tingling from his hand on my arm.
“Jesus, Slater, you scared me half to death,” I say once I can speak again. “What are you doing here?”
He smiles, the stage reflected in the sunglasses he’s wearing even though we’re inside. At night. “Zane dragged me to that party where they played last week, and they rocked.”
“Zane’s here?” I feel a little less anxious. It would be good to talk to Zane.
“No. Has to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow.” He shrugs, taking in the makeup and giving me an approving smile. “You look nice.”
“Thank you.” I grin at him.
Slater glances at Ava. “I’m a little surprised to see you guys here. What with everything going on and all.”
I try to look casual. “Dad would kill us both if he knew. We sort of snuck out.”
“Nice,” he says, nodding.
I look around to see if I can spot Melissa or any of the girls. I feel eyes on me, and scan the crowd until I find Rebecca staring at the two of us from the front of the stage. She glares at me and then goes on dancing in front of Eli. I wonder if she went to Seattle with them.
My eyes linger on Eli as he dominates the crowded room. The lights from above the stage make his dimples stand out even more than usual, and as he gestures and sways with the rhythm of the music, the movements are mimicked in the ripples of the packed dance floor. Somehow, I have to pull him back to earth. I have to get him to talk to me so I can let him know what’s going on.
I look over and realize Slater’s been talking to me. “I didn’t hear that,” I say, pretending the club is too loud. “What did you say?”
“I asked if you wanted a drink. I’ll get you one,” he shouts.
I don’t want to be mean, but I so don’t have time to hang out with Slater right now. “Maybe in a little bit,” I shout. I spot Linzey behind us near the bar. “I need to go talk to someone.”
Disappointment is written all over his face, but he gives me a quick nod.
I take a deep breath as I approach, but the minute Linzey sees me, she turns away. I can’t let that stop me.
“Linzey,” I say, tapping her on the shoulder. “Come on, I need to talk to you.”
She spins around, anger written all over her face. “None of us want to talk to you, whatever name you’re going by these days.”
“I’m sorry about that!” I say. “I never meant to hurt anyone.”
Linzey shakes her head in disgust. “You shouldn’t even be here. You don’t belong anymore.” She glances away from me. “He’s going out with Rebecca again. Things are back to the way they should be.”
“Good,” I say, somehow squeezing the words around the giant lump in my throat. Eli has already moved on. “I’m glad he’s happy.”
“Don’t fuck with it,” she says. “You should go.”
“I just need to talk to him for a minute,” I say. “He could be in trouble.” I glance over at the stage and realize it’s empty, the music that’s coming over the loudspeakers not Eli’s band but an old Green Day song. The space around us has cleared a little, with everyone making their way to the bar. “Where did they go?”
Linzey follows my gaze. “On a break, I guess,” she says. “They still have about half the set left.”
I look around but don’t see Eli anywhere. Or Ava. “I have to find him,” I say quickly.
“No!” Linzey says, grabbing my arm with surprising force. “Leave them alone.”
“Let me go.” I wrench my arm out of her grip and push through what’s left of the crowd until I find Melissa messing around with some cords on the edge of the stage. Rebecca is standing just to the left but turns away as I approach them.
“Melissa!” I say just before I reach her.
Her face brightens when she hears her name, but a shadow falls across it when she sees that it’s me.
None of the band guys are in sight—I have to risk asking for her help. “Have you seen Eli?”
“No,” she says, her voice icy.
“Come on, please,” I beg. “I’m not trying to get back with him. But there’s something I need to tell him—something important. I just need two minutes and then I’ll go.”
She looks toward the stage, deciding something. “I think the guys went to kick it in the back room for a few minutes,” she says flatly. “Oh, wait,” she says, snapping her fingers. “Eli had to get a new strap out of the van.” She points to his guitar in its stand on the stage, the black leather strap hanging loose and unfastened at the back. “That one’s been dying a slow death for weeks.”
“Where’s the van?” I ask, trying to keep the desperation I feel out of my voice.
Melissa nods to a door on my right with a green Exit sign above it. “In the alley just there. I’m sure he’ll be right back.”
“I’ll go meet him,” I say, relieved that I’m not going to have to have this conversation in front of everyone. This couldn’t have worked out better. The door is closed but not latched when I reach it, and as I open it, I feel a blast of cold air that’s in sharp contrast to the warm, muggy feeling inside the club.
The white band van is parked halfway down the alley near a tall wire fence that turns it into a dead end.
“Eli?” I call as I head toward it, my heart pounding with anxiety.
His head pops out the open door of the van, but he scowls when he sees me. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.”
He pretends to look thoughtful. “It’s hard to care when I don’t even know who I’m talking to.” He waves his arms around as if he’s doing a magic trick. “Lexi? Ava? Alicia?”
I hold both hands up in surrender. “Look, I don’t blame you for being mad. But I didn’t come here to talk about us.” I’m talking quickly, knowing he’s not going to give me much time.
Eli jumps down onto the pavement, his cheeks still flushed from the heat of the stage. “Good,” he says. “Because there is no ‘us.’ Never was.”
I close my eyes so I can get through the next part. “I’m sorry. I never meant for you to find out that way. I was going to tell you, I swear. But I need to tell you that you might be in danger.”
“Danger,�
� he says incredulously. “Really.”
“Yes. Someone has it in for me and Ava—”
The door to the club scrapes open, and Adam and Rebecca walk out in a wave of heat and noise. “I busted the last decent pair of sticks I had in my kit,” Adam says, coming toward us. He stops when he sees who Eli’s talking to. “Um … sorry.”
Rebecca bumps me hard with her shoulder as she brushes by me to get to Eli. As soon as she reaches him, she wraps her arm possessively around his waist and gives him a deep kiss, one that he’s quick to reciprocate.
I wait, standing awkwardly with Adam until they’re through. “I … I still need to talk to you. In private.”
“Anything you need to say to Eli you can say in front of me,” Rebecca says. “Bitch.” She glares at me, and for a second I wonder what she’s capable of.
I wait for Eli to say something to her, but he doesn’t, just keeps his eyes steady on me. “I’m listening.”
“How about after the show? Can you meet me by the bar, out in the open, for just two minutes?” Nobody says anything. “It’s important.”
“Fine.” Eli gives a quick nod. “Two minutes.”
“Eli, no!” Rebecca says, pounding one fist into the side of the van. “You don’t have to listen to anything she has to say.”
“Knock it off, Rebecca,” he says, pushing her slightly away. “I don’t need you involved in this.”
“Thank you,” I say before Rebecca can get another word in. It comes out stilted and formal. I walk back into the club feeling dazed and overwhelmed, my hands shaking and beads of sweat on my forehead.
“Lex!” Ava says, grabbing my arm through the crowd. She looks closely at my face in the dim light. “What’s wrong? You look like shit.”
“Nothing,” I say quickly.
“Did you see him? What did he do?” Ava’s eyes flash with anger. An anger I’m almost grateful for.
“We were talking out back in the alley …,” I begin, but I can’t find the words to describe how I feel. I shake my head. “I’m fine, really. I’ll be right back.” I get that queasy excess-saliva feeling that happens right before you throw up, so I head for the bathroom. Screw Alicia’s carefully applied makeup, I need to put some cold water on my face. Pushing past the line for the two tiny graffiti-covered stalls, I jam myself into the corner of the counter, run my hands under the faucet, and splash my face. It feels good. I grab a couple of squares of rough brown paper towel to wipe them off. I look in the mirror and am not sure who I see anymore—the girl staring back with the red cheeks and the smudged eyeliner could be either of us. Any of us.
Rebecca opens the door to the bathroom, walks straight toward me, and slams the back of my head into the wall before I can react. “Stay the fuck away from him,” she hisses, her eyes narrowed.
I push her back until she bumps the sink. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
She takes another step forward. “I mean it, bitch. Stay away from Eli or you’re going to regret it. I’ll see to that.”
The rest of the girls waiting for a stall have stopped talking to watch. I take one last look at Rebecca and push my way out of the bathroom. I can’t afford to get into any more trouble at this point. My face feels hot and my hands are clenched into fists. There are a few guys milling around on the stage, but the band hasn’t gone back on yet. I scan the crowd but don’t see Ava anywhere.
Melissa walks up to me looking harried. “Have you seen Eli? Their second set is going to go over, and they’re ball-busters about the noise curfew around here.”
“He’s out back with Adam,” I say. I glance up to the stage and see Adam sitting behind the drum kit adjusting his bass drum. “Oh. I guess he’s still looking for the guitar strap.”
“Just what I need. Trying to get musicians to play on time is like herding cats,” Melissa says, looking annoyed.
“I’ll go get him,” I offer. Maybe I can quickly say what I came to say and get the hell out of here. Sitting through their set is going to be torture now, and Rebecca’s going to take every opportunity to make sure of that.
The alley is quiet when I open the door of the club. I don’t see any movement near the van, and he doesn’t answer me when I call. “Eli?” I say again, a little louder this time. There’s no other sound out here except for the muffled music coming through the door that leads to the club. The side panel of the van is pushed open, and I’m sure he’s inside it rummaging around, which is why he didn’t hear me. When I’m almost to the van’s back bumper, I see the bottoms of his Converse sprawled alongside the back tire, the toes pointing unnaturally into the asphalt. I run the last few steps, my chest tight with fear, until I can see him clearly—facedown in the street, his head turned to the side and his eyes open, a growing stain of dark red blood pooling on the back of his shirt from a wound on his neck.
It feels like a scream, but it comes out as a whisper.
“Eli!”
Time seems to stop as I drop to the ground and put my hand on the back of his head, trying to stop the blood, but it seeps through my fingers. Panic fills my body, shooting sparks through my bloodstream. I’m desperate to find another explanation, another reality. This can’t be happening! His beautiful blue eyes stare straight ahead, and there’s no life or recognition in them. Eli’s skin is warm to the touch, and I can still see traces of sweat around his hairline from being onstage, but his arms lie uselessly at his sides, and his body has a stillness to it that I’ve never seen before. Even before I put a hand up to feel for a pulse on his neck, I can feel the disbelief growing. I have to acknowledge what I don’t want to admit. There’s nothing I can do. Eli’s already dead.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I say, tears filling my eyes and spilling onto the front of his shirt as I hold him half on my lap and half on the ground. “I’m so, so sorry.” I feel like curling up beside him, giving in to whatever’s going on around me, because I couldn’t protect him. I couldn’t save him.
I don’t know if I’ve been here for minutes or hours when I hear the door to the club scrape open and deep voices in conversation as someone walks into the alley. That tiny sound jerks me back to life. Eli’s gone; there’s nothing left of him in this body—no music, no understanding, no forgiveness. I look down the alley at two guys in sweat-soaked T-shirts as they lean against the building, their heads wreathed in smoke. My stomach lurches, and I know I can’t let them find me here. With all the other evidence, there’s no jury in the world that would believe I’m innocent. And if I go to jail for this, I’m sure Eli won’t be the last victim.
Gravel grinds into my knees, and I brace myself on the van, my hand leaving a deep red smear on the white paint as I pull myself up. The metallic smell of the blood hits my nostrils, and I manage to step a few feet away before the hot vomit makes its way up my throat and splatters onto the asphalt. I stagger upright and wipe my mouth with my sleeve. I’m not thinking about the blood that covers my hands and stains the front of my shirt in big, wet blotches. I’m just relying on instinct and self-preservation as I walk quickly past the two guys by the door—the only way out of this alley.
“Hey!” one of them shouts as I walk by. I can hear the alarm in his voice, so I break into a run. “Hey! Stop her!”
The heels on Ava’s shoes are too high, and I almost twist my ankle before I kick them off, gaining speed as my bare feet pound the pavement. The guys must give up the chase to see what I’ve left behind, because I’m alone as I turn the corner onto the main street. I can hear the faint bass rumblings from inside the club. The guys must be getting ready to go on for the second half of their set, not knowing that they’ve already played their last notes together. The world around me is a blur from the tears that stream down my face. Eli will never be onstage again. Never pick up his guitar. Never sing. And it’s all my fault—I led Ava right to him.
I race down the sidewalk, the lights from oncoming cars flashing into my eyes. I run for blocks and blocks, trying to put as much distance as possible between
me and the club. Finally my breath is so ragged, I can’t run anymore, so I veer off into a side street lined with the loading docks of the stores that are in the front. I lean against a chain-link fence and try to force air into my lungs. I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t want to believe it, but it must have been Ava in the photo the night that Casey died, and she didn’t just let Dylan off with a warning. She’s been systematically killing all the guys that Alicia’s gone out with. She’s been lying to me. For how long?
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pocket. Ava. I feel the vibrations and stare at her name on the screen until it just becomes a jumble of unfamiliar letters. After what she’s done, I can’t help her anymore. I hesitate, then press IGNORE, my chest heavy, the decision irreversible. I turn the phone off so that nobody can track my movements, and then look around, trying to get my bearings. I’m still downtown somewhere, but I don’t come here enough to know the streets well. My hands are shaking, and for the first time I really see the blood that’s dried, sticky and sheer, on my left palm, and the huge spots on my silver top. Eli’s blood must be all over my pants too, but they’re black, and in the dim orange light from the alley I can’t see it. I pull the top over my head and immediately start to shiver, the black tank top underneath the only barrier between me and the cold misty air. There are several Dumpsters near the first loading dock, so I wad up the bloodstained shirt and smash it as deep into the rotten, sickly-sweet-smelling garbage as I can. The cops might find it if they look hard enough, but hopefully by then it won’t matter. I need to stay one step ahead of them. And one step ahead of Ava.
It’s the sirens in the distance, the high wailing that bounces off the buildings, that gets me moving again. I pass another club, dozens of people lined up under a red awning, and a few of them stare at me as I walk by with my head down, trying not to draw attention to myself, but it’s hard to be inconspicuous with bare feet and bloodstained hands. I have to get somewhere safe to clean up and figure out my next move.