Puzzled, I walked over to the bar and picked up the slip of paper. While I unfolded it, he went back to stacking and unloading boxes from the handcart.
Hesitating before I opened the paper all the way, I realized it hadn't even occurred to me that the guy might need help restocking. I looked up.
“Hey," I said, a little awkwardly. "Is there more out back? We could carry some, too. We’re just waiting anyway... that way you could restock while we used the hand cart.”
Turning, the bartender smiled at me. “No. That was the last of it. Thanks for asking, though. I think you’re the first band person who’s ever asked me that... even if it was a little late.”
"Sorry," I said.
"That wasn't a dig. I mean it. Thanks."
I shrugged. “Waitress. I know how it is.”
He winked at me, heading back for the alley. “Even so. You’re a doll.”
As he disappeared through the swinging doors, I unfolded the square of paper the rest of the way and flattened it on the bar. A drawing stood there, in black marker.
The symbol looked vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen it before. Under it, someone had written in jagged, hurried-looking script:
Will you be the First?
The one into which the others Flow?
Not the one in the Middle.
Nor the Second.
But the First?
Who will take up the call? Who will be The Balance of the World?
Who will witness the events of the End?
Who indeed, is the Bearer of our Final Word?
I flipped the piece of paper over, looking at the other side. It was blank. No signature, not even so much as a smiley face. A little weirded out, I passed it to Cass.
“What does that mean, do you suppose?”
Cass looked at it, read the lines, then flipped it over like I had. Leaning over to hand it down the bar to Jon when he clicked his fingers at her, she shrugged at me.
“That your freak magnet is still fully operational." Shaking her head, Cass snorted. "Jesus, Allie. We only got here a few hours ago. How the hell do they find you? Did you go out in the middle of the street and scream 'Here I am!' when Jon and I were using the toilet or something?" Suppressing a smile, she cocked an eyebrow at me, folding her arms under her breasts and pushing them up slightly. "How the hell do you do it? Seriously? This must be a world record, even for you...”
“You were with me the whole time!” I protested. “I haven’t talked to anyone but you guys... and that bellhop at the hotel who stashed our bags. How could this possibly be my fault?"
"How is it ever your fault, Allie?" Cass said, rolling her eyes. "You know that's not what I meant. It just boggles the mind. Seriously." Smirking, she glanced at Jon. "You don't suppose it's the bellhop, do you? Maybe some of his bellhop pals? Maybe you could go rough him up a bit, Jon. Use some of your kung fu magic to get the truth out of him...”
Jon laughed from the other side of her, but there wasn't much humor in it.
"This is so unfair," I complained. "This time, I really didn't talk to anyone. Not a single weirdo... I haven't even made eye contact with anyone." I turned to Jon, who was still looking at the note. "Seriously. How could anyone even know I'm here?"
“How do they ever know, Al?” Jon said, his voice openly irritated. Studying the symbol and re-reading the words, he flipped over the paper like we had, then tossed it down on the bar. “Sounds religious.”
"Great," I said. "Because they're always the reasonable ones."
"Third Myth probably," he added.
“Third Myth?” I said, bewildered. “I don’t know any Third Mythers. Not even in SF.”
But Jon’s words made sense, sure. The symbol of the three spirals... maybe that’s where I’d seen it before. The note even referenced something about the number three. And even though I didn't know any of them personally, there was a growing faction of Mythers in San Fran, and they were pretty visible on the streets. They’d nearly come to blows with a bunch of Christians at the last rally I happened to witness on my way to work.
“Yep,” Cass nodded, refolding her arms. “Definitely Allie-stalker material. Maybe whoever it is thinks they need to save your soul?”
“But why now?” My voice still sounded defensive to me for some reason. “We went to the hotel in a taxi. And then we came straight here... also in a taxi. I've probably been on the street for a total of four, fifteen-second stretches, walking to and from taxis...”
“And whoever delivered this asked for you?” Cass said. “You, specifically?”
I threw up my hands. “You heard the bartender, right?”
“Maybe it was the bartender,” Jon said, still sounding irritated.
“Maybe,” I said, glancing back at the swinging door.
But I didn't really think so for some reason.
Cass shook her head, still trying to make this funny. “Jesus, Allie. Your brain is like a sound only dogs can hear... only in your case, religious whackos and the criminally insane.”
“Thanks, Cass,” I said. “Thanks a bunch.”
But Jon seemed to have had enough of the conversation. Probably because he hated the weird shit that always seemed to happen to me, he preferred to ignore it until he absolutely had to. He checked his own watch, which did work, and glanced at the door.
“I hate to say it, Al, but Cass isn’t wrong," he said. "Jaden is more than thirty minutes late. Isn’t that well past the polite grace period before the 'Get out of Jail Free' card for bailing? I’m hungry... and that famous deli is right down the street. Maybe we could get a few sandwiches at least and come back?”
“Deli?” My nose wrinkled. “At eight in the morning, Jon?”
“Eight-thirty,” he corrected me. “And I was thinking bagel sandwiches. Maybe with eggs.” He smacked his lips. “I still remember them from the last time we came to New York with mom. And all I’ve had is that crappy airplane coffee...”
“Fine,” Cass said. “We’ll get bagels... but fuck coming back here! Let’s eat them while we walk. It’s like... beautiful outside. Perfect weather. Let's go to the park, so we can get into the Met before it gets too crowded...”
Cass jumped up and down on her combat boots, looking again like an overgrown kid with her quasi-poodle skirt and tight t-shirt. Her dyed red hair was shocking next to her delicate, Eurasian features and dark eyes on pale skin. Cass' ethnicity was a odd mishmash of Thai, Ethiopian and something like Scottish. She mostly looked Thai, I guess, although it was hard to tell under most of her get-ups. She had a tendency to be a lot more liberal with the make-up than I was, so her looks seemed to change with the weather at times.
“...I want to go uptown!” Her voice grew cajoling as she grabbed my arm, trying to get me to jump up and down with her. “Allie, you said we’d go check out the MOMA, and the Guggenheim... even the Natural History Museum if we had time. What are we doing here, sitting in some beer and puke-smelling armpit, waiting to do manual labor for your boyfriend who is blowing us off? There are like five of them, right? They don’t need us!”
Again, I had to admit she had a point.
Before I could answer, the door to the street swung open, letting in a bright swath of sunlight and the whole entourage of Eye of Morris. I grimaced a little when Jaden walked in first, seeing that he wasn’t alone. It was bad enough that they were late; the girl who hung on his arm, chatting away happily to him while she pushed her ample chest up into the general vicinity of his eyeballs, didn't exactly bring a relieved smile to my lips.
I recognized her, even if I didn’t know her exactly. Or even her name, which I'd made a point of not-remembering when she continuously asked me who I was after meeting me like four times. She was one of those girls, the ones who live to make points off of... and generally just piss off... other women. Especially women with hot boyfriends in semi-popular bands.
To his credit, Jaden, rather than looking sheepish, met my gaze directly. As soon as h
e caught my eye, he sighed a bit, then rolled his eyes subtly in apology, motioning his head towards She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
He smiled at me then, winking.
I fought to smile back, and almost made it.
I knew Jaden thought she was a bimbo, and I loved him enough to trust him, even when it was harder than hell... but it still dug at something in my chest, seeing them walking arm in arm like that. He and I already had that talk too many times before, though. He had his band persona, and then he had me. He couldn’t be a dick to his fans and explain it away by saying that he was only doing it because his girlfriend was crazy jealous.
But I was jealous. I couldn’t really pretend I wasn’t.
And this chick, in particular, was beginning to get on my nerves.
To make things worse, she was from San Francisco like the rest of us, which meant she flew all the way out here to be a pain in my ass. She showed up as a regular fixture right around the time they started playing Eye of Morris songs on the radio, especially Jaden’s “Under Dark Sky,” which had been the love theme for the indy movie.
She fixated on Jaden himself pretty quickly, which wasn’t that surprising given that he was fast becoming the front man for their five-person band. Jaden did most of the lead vocals and played guitar; he was also six-one with dark brown hair that he dyed jet-black, shocking blue eyes and a firm jaw, and for his shows he tended to dress like a young James Dean. He was on the skinny side, like a lot of musicians, but his body wasn’t bad, either.
So yeah, I had to just swallow it.
Girls had liked Jaden even before the band started to take off, of course. But something about this new crowd, the ones who just wanted to catch a rising star, was even more unsettling. A magazine did a spread on him when his song really hit after the movie released, and he got this flood of fan mail, including a lot of naked pictures and a handful of marriage proposals. Not quite sidewalks full of screaming girls yet, but enough to make me nervous, sure.
But I hadn’t expected his number one fan to show up in New York, too.
It didn't help that she knew how to play to her assets. Her clothes were always skin tight and revealing on top. She wore blood-red lipstick on pouty lips and her hair tousled in that ‘I-just-had-sex’ look. She also laughed at everything Jaden said, even when it wasn’t funny, and used that as an excuse to push those same breasts even further into his face.
I wasn’t sure how long I was supposed to be okay with her hanging around, honestly. I’d already started to fantasize about accidentally plowing her face into a wall.
I glanced at Cass after they passed, and she raised a pointed eyebrow, folding her arms under her own ample chest. I recognized the look there. I knew Cass would have plowed the groupie’s face into a wall already, or at least given her a good scare. She had a lot less tolerance for that kind of thing, especially women who played games with her.
Or maybe she was just less of a doormat.
Rolling her eyes when I just shrugged, Cass pointed at the door.
“He’s got enough skanks to help him here, Al,” she said, loud enough for pouty-lips to hear. “He doesn’t need us, okay? Can we just go? Before I catch crabs from one of these parasites?”
Jon, unsuccessfully, stifled a laugh from the bar.
I glanced over as he was choking on the seltzer water he inhaled up his nose.
Then I looked after Jaden, but he was talking to the band's manager, Randy. I watched as Randy introduced him to a heavy-set guy wearing a club t-shirt who was probably the sound guy. They shook hands, then the sound guy laughed at something Jaden said.
“Are you really going to hover, Allie?” Cass said. “Because if he wants to get his ego... or his dick... rubbed by skanks, he’s going to do it whether you’re here or not.”
I gave her a hard look.
But at least she’d said that quieter, where no one but the three of us heard it.
"You know what would help?" she added, her eyes holding a faint apology. "Leaving. Having fun. Seriously, Allie... it's the only thing that will make you feel better."
I glanced at the other end of the bar, halfway across the room. Pouty lips was giggling with a few of her friends, and flirting with the bartender on the other end, where he was stocking one of the wells.
But Cass was right. I knew she was right. Either I make a scene and demand that the groupies bail, en masse, or I leave now with Jon and Cass, while I was still in a reasonably good mood. The last thing I wanted to do was to get angry for real and start sniping passive-aggressively at Jaden for letting her hang around.
Not sure if I should interrupt Jaden’s business conversation, I nodded at his drummer, Corey, instead. Corey’s face lit up when he saw me. He paused next to me, adjusting his arms and hands around a cymbal stand and a loop of cords he was carrying towards the stage.
“Do you guys need help?” I asked him.
Corey thought for a minute. “I don’t think so.” He glanced behind him, where the bass player and the other guitarist were carrying more pieces of Corey’s drum kit. “Did you ask Jaden? He’s kind of in charge of all that.”
“Jaden’s ah... busy,” I said lamely. “If you don’t think you need us, then just tell Jaden we’re taking off for the day, okay? Cass and Jon are getting antsy. I promised them sights. Big Apple tour, you know? While you guys do the rock star thing...”
“Okay, sure, Allie.” Corey grinned at me again. “Can I come along?”
I smiled, in spite of myself. “I don’t think Jaden’d let you off the hook that easily, Cor.”
“Yeah.” Corey sighed. “Probably not.”
“Maybe we can all meet up once you guys are free? Get something to eat, or maybe ride the ferry or something?”
“We’ve got that photo shoot. For Alter-Ro Mag...”
“Okay. Yeah. Of course.”
“But maybe we’ll get done early?” Corey said hopefully, grinning again. “We can get dinner before we play. I still want to spit off the Empire State Building...”
“I don’t think they let you do that anymore,” I grinned.
“Well, maybe from the Rainbow Room, then. They have food, right?”
Adjusting the cords he carried around his shoulder, he resumed heading roughly in the direction of the stage.
I watched Jaden for another moment, trying to see if he’d turn around, so I could let him know we were going. When he didn’t, I gave up.
Looking up at Cass and Jon, I jerked my head towards the door.
“Okay. I'm done. Let’s go,” I said.
Cass held out her hands in a mock prayer gesture.
“Hallelujah!” she said. "She has seen the light!"
Jon only laughed, but I saw him looking at me, his eyes holding a faint scrutiny.
THREE
WALKING DOWN THE street in New York, it felt like I was on a different planet. San Francisco is a big city, too, sure, and I'd been to New York loads of times before, but the vibe that day seemed really different for reasons I couldn't quite pinpoint. Or maybe for too many reasons.
Seers were everywhere, for one thing.
Even apart from seers, the city itself felt more busy and crowded than any of the previous times I’d been. There was a kind of humming vibrancy to the air, like what you might feel before a big storm, or maybe an earthquake. Virtual reality terminals seemed to pop out of every wall and every streetlamp and kiosk. Thanks to the new “smart ads,” virtual people walked the streets alongside regular people, sometimes almost doubling the population. Advertisements followed us for blocks when we accidentally triggered them, showing us how we’d look in designer clothes, telling us about the great opportunity we were missing by not using this or that bank, or not purchasing this or that insurance. Virtual ads tried to get us to tell them what we wanted for Christmas, what our favorite band or soft drink or coffee flavour was, what our ideal man (or woman) was like. Those same ads then tried to sell us a new car, a hair cut, a cruise to Greenland, whiter teeth, vi
ntage wine, rare chocolates, a robotic pet and slinky underwear.
Between that and all of the taxis and honking cars, I’m surprised more people don’t get run over. As it was, I bumped into people quite a lot, especially as we wandered through Times Square, where the number of both virtual and real people went up exponentially.
Sadly, it wasn’t always easy to tell the difference.
Right as we were about to enter Central Park, I ran full-bore into someone, hard enough that I actually fell down. Before I’d even recovered, she hissed at me,
“Watch where you’re going... worm!”
I looked up at her face.
Even before I made sense of her words, I realized she had to be a seer. Her dark purple eyes bored into me from a height a good foot taller than mine, even if I hadn’t been sprawled on the pavement. She wore a faux-leather dress that barely covered her crotch and one of those silver collars connected to a long necklace designed to look like a leash. The shoes on her feet, in addition to costing more than a month’s rent for my apartment in SF, could have impaled my neck to the sidewalk without running out of spiked heel.
I was still staring at her when a man appeared out of nowhere. From behind her, he hit her with what looked like a three-foot cattle prod.
“Don’t!” I began, holding up a hand.
But I was too late.
The woman dropped as if someone had kicked her knees out from under her. I stared in shock as Jon helped me to my feet, tugging on my arms until I was more or less vertical again. Unable to take my eyes off the woman, who was gasping on the pavement, looking at me with a kind of surprised shock, I winced when a leather boot landed squarely on her neck, pinning her face into the sidewalk.
“Jesus... don’t!” I looked up finally, glaring at the man. “What the hell are you doing?”
Allie's War Early Years Page 2