Changing his mind about the tall guy again, Jon guessed that maybe he was a cop, and that the jurisdiction thing was why he’d seemed so pissed off. There were always those kinds of turf battles going on between the military, SCARB and the local police, Jon said.
As far as what we'd do, it was decided I'd draw them as best as I could, and we would send the pictures in anonymously, to register a brutality complaint. Since I'd have to do realistic drawings to do it right, the drawings would be illegal, so I couldn't exactly sign and hand-deliver them to the cops myself.
It was still risky, but it was pretty unlikely they'd chase someone down just for making a realistic drawing, especially when they'd done it to be a good Samaritan. We all three agreed we had to at least try and register a complaint somehow.
We still managed to have a good day, in spite of that.
We didn’t make it to the Natural History Museum, like Jon wanted, but we did get into the Met and part of the MOMA and did a decent circuit around Central Park and through most of midtown. We ended up in SOHO by the end, wandering through yet more art and art galleries, and buying street crap from vendors when we felt like it.
I promised Jon we’d hit his museums the next day, but he didn’t seem to care all that much, except maybe about those sandwiches, which he mentioned at least five times.
We should have gotten the danged sandwiches. Given all the walking and our foregoing meals to eat street vendor hotdogs and pizza and a few other snack-like foods, it didn't take much alcohol to get us all borderline drunk. Even Jon had a good buzz going by the time Jaden and his band spilled into the club through from the back-alley performer’s door.
They had the usual group of hangers-on, so I gave him space. I did watch, though, as Jaden talked to the sound guy again, along with the lead singer of the headlining band and their guitarist. It was a relief not to see pouty lips anywhere in sight. It had been nagging at me, the thought of her hanging on him every second I wasn’t around.
But Cass was right. If he wanted to stray, he would stray.
Jaden stopped by for a kiss and a hello before they retreated into the back room to go over the set list and do all of that other pre-show stuff. When he came over, I realized I was already a little further gone than I’d realized, when I grinned at him like a loon.
When he got close enough, I slung my arms around his neck, kissing him.
“Hi," I said, still grinning.
“Hey, baby,” he said, smiling back. His hands grabbed my ass, and I pushed them off, laughing. “...Miss me?” he teased.
“Of course.”
“You’d better.” He wrapped his arms around my waist, glancing down at the skinny jeans and t-shirt I was wearing. His fingers traced the tattoo on my arm, one of the decorations I put right above the state-mandated barcode. “You guys have fun today?”
“Yeah. Despite our witnessing police brutality." At his puzzled look, I waved off my words. "I'll explain later. Anyway, it would have been more fun if you’d come.”
“Hey!” Jon protested.
Cass threw a cherry at me. “Speak for yourself!”
I laughed, tossing the cherry back at her from where it stuck to my shoulder. Then I looked back at Jaden, who smiled wanly at my two friends. The smile didn’t touch his eyes, though, and I saw a hint of a frown on his lips, right before he turned away.
Wanting to dispel whatever I could see brewing there, I kissed him again. He kissed me back at first, but after a few seconds, he extricated himself, glancing around at the rest of the room.
“Okay, that’s enough, Taylor,” he said jokingly. He looked at me, and that time, his eyes were a little cold. “Guess you got an early start, huh?”
I slid back into my stool.
“Not that early,” I said. I heard the hurt in my own voice.
I felt my cheeks burn though, and glanced around to see who he hadn’t wanted to see us kissing. Jaden and I had been together for like five years. Everyone in his band had seen us kiss before, and it wasn’t like I’d been grinding on him or anything; in fact, he’d been the one to get grabby. Was it some band image thing? Did he need to seem like the single guy now?
Trying to shrug it off, I leaned back, taking another sip of beer.
“How did the photo shoot go?” I said, my voice neutral.
Jaden hesitated, frowning at my tone.
“Fine,” he said.
“Great!” Corey enthused as he walked up to the bar. He leaned against the padded leather on the other side of Cass. “We took all these pictures in the park... at that Alice in Wonderland statue. And in front of the Met...”
“We were over there,” Jon said. “What time?”
As the two of them talked, I glanced at Jaden again.
His blue eyes had turned inward. I could see a faint annoyance growing there, and around the set of his mouth. He’d been pretty withdrawn for a few weeks now; I couldn’t figure out if it had anything to do with us or not. In any case, he hadn’t exactly been seeking me out since we’d gotten off the plane at JFK. Or really, before that, since we arrived at SFO.
Feeling my face burn a little hotter, I glanced over at where Drake, the bass player, was talking to some girl I’d never seen before. She was wearing in a Eye of Morris band t-shirt that she’d cut off to show her midriff and a micro-mini with knee-high boots. Drake’s eyes were pretty firmly fixed on her breasts as she spoke.
I glanced at Jaden again.
His face was wooden now, like he’d been thinking, too. Whatever it was, he didn’t look real happy about it.
“Jaden...” I began, my voice low.
“What, Allie?” he said, focusing on me directly. “What is it?”
I fell silent, looking at him. Seeing the fight in his eyes, I backed down.
“Nothing. I just...”
“Well, whatever it is, can it wait?” he said. “We have to get ready... and I need to get back there, okay? They want to make some changes to our set list...”
I stared up at him, thrown by the coldness of his voice.
"Sure," I said.
"Great. Then you can just save it up and yell at me later, okay?"
“Jaden,” I said, bewildered. “Seriously? What did I do?”
“I asked you to wait, Allie,” he said angrily. “...Can you for once just not pretend you know what’s going on in my head? I’m just stressed about the show... and I have to go get changed. I can’t just sit here and get drunk with the rest of you, not unless I want to tank the show...”
Jon and Cass were staring at Jaden now, too.
Corey seemed to take the weather reading and wander off, without his beer.
“...I’m glad you had fun with your friends,” Jaden added. "It must be nice, just hanging around all day, not having anything to do."
“Is that why you’re pissed off?” I said, still trying to catch up. “...That I was gone all day?”
“For the last time, I’m not ‘pissed off,' Allie. Whatever it is you think I’m doing wrong, we’ll talk about it later...”
I watched, bewildered, as Jaden walked away towards the backstage door. I couldn't help but notice he was wearing the same jeans and t-shirt and motorcycle boots that he wore onstage for a lot of gigs, so I knew the changing clothes excuse was probably b.s. Was he really pissed that I’d been gone all day? I’d told him about our plans in SF, and he'd said it was a good idea, that we’d get bored stupid at the photo shoot and all the networking crap he had to do.
But maybe he'd wanted me there, despite what he'd said? I knew it was a big show for him, so maybe from his perspective I wasn't being supportive. Or maybe he was mad I took off that morning without saying anything to him?
As I watched Jaden go, the feeling I got was different, though.
It felt like he was just running away from me. I wondered if he’d been doing that more lately, and I just hadn’t noticed.
When I looked at Cass, she raised an eyebrow.
“What did you do?” she sai
d sarcastically.
From her tone, I could tell she didn’t think it was me who had done something.
I answered her anyway.
“I honestly don’t know,” I said, watching Jaden leave.
A FEW HOURS later, I really was drunk. Cass talked me into a few more shots, and given my mood, I let her. Not my finest moment, but for the most part, it didn’t matter... I didn’t see Jaden after he’d disappeared backstage anyway.
Now Cass was jumping up and down in kind of a weird dancing pogo stick thing along with about seven other people standing near the front of the stage.
She laughed and grabbed my arm when I handed her a beer, trying to get me to join her in the mass of sweating bodies and flailing arms. Her dyed bright red hair was stuck to her forehead, giving her almost a China doll look with the deep black eye-makeup and bright red lipstick she wore. But she’d already dragged me out there with her twice and I wasn’t ready for round three yet. I also didn’t want to lose my seat at the bar with Jon while the place was starting to fill up for real.
At the thought, I glanced towards the door. The line was growing out there. I knew a lot of people would be coming to see Eye of Morris, not just the headliners, especially given all the radio play they’d gotten over the past month. I probably only had about thirty minutes before Jaden would be in the thick of it and surrounded by other people.
The band onstage now was decent for an opening act. Under normal circumstances, I probably would be out there with Cass.
“I’ll be back!” I promised her, extricating my arm.
“Promise?”
I grinned, shouting over the sound of the throbbing bass speaker.
“Of course! You know me!”
Cass shook her head, snorting a little after she studied my face.
“Don’t let him off too easy!” she shouted. “I mean it, Al.”
I rolled my eyes. But I found myself turning her words over in my mind anyway as I walked away. I knew from her perspective I should be pissed off, but I just wasn't feeling it for some reason. I couldn't decide if that made me reasonable or an idiot.
We’d gone back to the hotel to change our clothes and both of us were fairly dolled up. Well, street-culture dolled up, anyway. Meaning, I at least wore make-up, washed my hair and had on a form-fitting skirt I happened to know Jaden liked... although I wore combat boots below it, not wanting to get my feet squashed when I got up close to the stage. I also had on one of my more expensive blouses, a see-through lace thing that clung to my body over a spaghetti-string tank, and I'd put my hair up. As an afterthought almost, I also wore my best pair of earrings, emerald tear-drops that my father had given me, and that matched my eyes.
So I looked like a girl, anyway. Maybe I wasn’t in the full, skintight, flesh-on-parade regalia of a lot of the girls there, but I was getting plenty of looks for a change, which boosted my confidence for going to find Jaden.
I really didn’t want him to be pissed at me before he went on stage... much less later that night. Still, given his moods lately, I gave myself a 50-50 chance of being able to turn him around in the time I had. The fact that I was pretty drunk could either work in my favor, or go terribly, terribly wrong, depending on what kind of mood I found him in.
Pushing through the crush of bodies to reach the aisle, I didn’t let myself think about that last part too much either. I concentrated instead on making it through the crowd around the door to the backstage area.
I’d nearly gotten there, when I was startled to see a face I recognized.
It wasn’t Jaden. Or anyone in his band. Or even one of his groupies.
Meeting my gaze, the man with the blond ponytail smiled, bowing with an odd, almost outdated formality. The same drawl I remembered issued from his lips, even when he was nearly shouting to be heard over the band.
“Ms. Taylor,” he said.
“How the fuck do you know my name?”
It burst out of me without my willing it.
I couldn’t take my eyes off his squarish face, or the long blonde ponytail that still hung down his back. He’d changed his clothes from when I’d last seen him, too. Despite the more casual cut of his jacket and shirt, his outfit still looked expensive to me. I found myself remembering the look on his face while that military prick had been kicking that seer and holding a cattle prod over her mostly bare back.
More than anything, I really couldn’t believe he was there... much less that he knew my name. But it was even harder to believe it might be a coincidence.
It looked like he’d made an effort to appear like he fit in with the club's regular clientele. His hair, while still tied back, had been slicked down by product. He wore a long black jacket that I couldn’t help thinking might still be armored, leather boots that looked expensive, and a dark gray shirt that also looked designer. I found myself staring at the chain necklace around his neck. On the end of it hung a symbol in silver... three interweaving spirals with a small triangle in the center. The exact same symbol I’d seen drawn on a piece of paper that morning.
When I looked up, he was staring at me, smiling.
He fingered the necklace while I watched, touching it almost reverently with a ring-clad hand, and I knew then, that he’d seen me looking at it, and moreover, that he'd wanted me to see it. His eyes bored into mine, and I distinctly got the impression he was enjoying the fact that he’d unsettled me.
I took a step back, instinctively looking for Jon. But the crowd was too deep for me to find him way over by the bar.
“Are you following me, man?” I said.
I managed to keep my voice even, but I was genuinely freaked. Had SCARB decided I was some kind of sympathizer? Maybe they thought I had prior knowledge of that seer, because I ran into her and then I was defending her?
Seeing something in my eyes, the man held up a hand, as if to reassure me.
“Relax, Ms. Taylor,” he said. “...I'm not here to arrest you, I promise."
I stared at him, trying to make sense of the necklace, of the note that morning and then the arrested seer. Jon said religious whackos wrote that note. Was this guy one of them?
The man raised his voice to be heard over the band once more.
“There is no reason to be alarmed, Ms. Taylor.” He smiled again. “We simply seem to be destined to cross paths today, it seems...”
“Right,” I said, half-shouting back. "Sure." I stared up at him, my hands on my hips. Fighting to keep my unease off my face and out of my voice, I looked around, hoping a familiar face might appear. “So what’s on the menu tonight?" I said. "Plan to taser any more girls? Or did you fulfill your quota for today?”
The man surprised me by laughing, clasping his hands behind his back.
“Very good.” He smiled wider, his eyes holding that amused condescension. “They said you were spunky. I’m glad to see they were right, for a change.”
I detest the word ‘spunky.’ I mean, I really, really hate it.
I caught that "they said" crap, too. He was definitely screwing with me.
I held out a hand, motioning towards his jacket. “I want to see some credentials. Now. Or I’m registering a complaint with the police.”
“For what?” The man smiled wider. “For talking to you?”
“For stalking me,” I snapped. “...For acting creepy. I’ll show them your cute little note, too. Everyone loves a good religious fanatic, it’s true, but you still don’t have the right to prosthelize... especially not Third Myth, which last I knew was illegal to preach, even for SCARB assholes who like beating on girls. They might even get you for terrorism, if they like you even half as much as I do...”
“Note?” The man tilted his head, as if puzzled. “What note?”
“Just back off, okay?” I said, taking a step back myself, almost without realizing it. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any.”
At that point, I was ready to bolt if I needed to. Talk to Jaden later and just retreat to the bar and Jon and the
cute bartender who’d been flirting with me. Maybe I could talk the bartender into getting this guy tossed.
Ponytail man seemed about to answer me at first. Then, without meeting my gaze, he closed his mouth, still smiling that creepy smile. Without speaking, he gave me an odd little bow, as if we’d just now run into each other. As if I hadn’t just threatened him with the cops.
“Very nice to see you again, Ms. Taylor,” he said smoothly. “I am sorry if my presence here disturbs you. I do sincerely hope you have a very pleasant evening...”
Before I could think of a reply, he was already walking away.
I watched him pass. His face remained unreadable, his eyes focused in the distance.
Remembering the note that morning in the bar, I clenched my jaw.
How did I always, without fail, attract the weirdos? Everyone in my family lost their sense of humor about the whole thing after I’d been nearly abducted for like the fourth time when I was nine. When my father died, that mantle of making sure I didn’t end up on some serial killer’s stainless-steel surgical table got passed to Jon.
Jon took the job seriously. A little too seriously, in my opinion. But on days like today, I found myself grateful he was around... and that he was a fourth degree black belt in Choy Li Fut, a really kick-ass type of kung fu he taught in San Francisco.
Either way, my New York curse was still clearly in effect.
The sooner I got out of this shitty town, the better.
FIVE
I WAS STILL thinking about ponytail guy as I made my way past security and into the backstage corridor. I wondered again if Jon was right, if the guy was SCARB. Supposedly parts of SCARB were made up of real fanatics, so it wasn't totally inconceivable.
I found myself wishing I’d stopped in a kiosk at some point that day and looked up the meaning of the three-spiral symbol. But the last thing I needed was SCARB or the Feds tagging me in the system if it turned out to be something that tied to one of their ‘person of interest’ flags. My luck, it would be connected to a seer terrorist organization.
Allie's War Early Years Page 4