“Okay. I’ll meet you outside, in front. Take your time.”
Fifteen minutes later, Langston was discharged and walked outside. Jade was waiting at patient pickup in his car. With some help from an orderly, he carefully slid into the passenger seat, and they headed home.
“Thanks again, Jade. I have no idea what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”
“I’m just glad I was.”
“Do you have class today?”
She nodded. “Two o’clock.”
“I’m sorry I kept you up most of the night.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”
They rode in silence for a while. Langston checked his phone. Three missed calls from Everett and one from his mom.
He looked up, remembering something. “Did you say you didn’t have a license?”
“Yeah.” Jade smiled sheepishly. “Want me to pull over?”
“No. You got me to the hospital alright.”
Jade sighed loudly. “I’ve been to the DMV three times. I always pass the written exam, but I freak out when it’s time to go on the road.”
“Why?”
Jade looked as if she was going to answer, but instead she sighed and shrugged.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to drive instead of dragging your cello on the bus every day?” Langston asked.
She rolled her eyes at the road. “Duh.”
“Sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’m just mad at myself.” She yielded at a red light before making a right turn. “Can we change the subject?”
“Sure,” he said. “What are you doing for Christmas?”
“My dad and I are going to see my sister and the baby. I’m really excited. How about you?”
“I’ll be at my mom’s. A few years ago, she got close to the ladies in her book club. They’re pretty much like family now. They rotate holidays, and this year it’s my mom’s turn to host Christmas.”
“Do you have any other family here?”
“No.” A wave of numbness passed through him. He touched his head lightly. “Will you be back by New Year’s Eve?”
“Yes.” She let up on the gas. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Langston waited until she sped up again. “There’s going to be a New Year’s concert downtown with some local bands. I was thinking about going. Do you think you might want to come with me?”
Jade smiled. “Sure. I’d like that.”
“Great. It’s a date.”
He waited for her to correct him.
She didn’t.
Chapter Five
Langston carefully peeled back the edges of the bandage on his shoulder. He leaned toward the bathroom mirror, examining the wound. While he hadn’t wanted to be shot, it was an ideal test for the nanobots he’d injected. This way, he wouldn’t have to formulate a plan to deliberately hurt himself for his research. It had been eighteen hours since the incident, and there were no signs of advanced healing, just a small gaping, red hole. The grotesque display of exposed flesh made him feel queasy, so he applied a fresh bandage.
He’d been sure that the nanos would work. He’d never designed something that hadn’t work. It may have taken a few tries, but everything he made always performed the way he wanted. He frowned. He knew failure didn’t feel good, but he hadn’t expected it to feel this bad. After a moment of wallowing in self-pity, Langston rallied his confidence. Once he returned to Bronze Leaf, he’d run the tracking program and troubleshoot this issue. He’d find a way to make them work.
Heavy metal music blasted from the television in the living room, and Langston went to turn it down. A series of freeze frames of BMX bikers in midair flashed on the screen before the camera swung down to two male announcers—one blond, one redheaded—next to a raging crowd.
“Welcome to the Twister Extreme Challenge, brought to you by Twister Energy Drink!” the blond announcer shouted over the excited screams. “Today we have a stellar line up for the freestyle competition, don’t we Chad?”
“That’s right, Tim,” the redhead said. “It’s a beautiful, clear, sunny day here in Melbourne.”
Several clips of Australia flashed across the screen, including a time lapse of the city at sunset, the Sydney Opera House at daybreak, and a kangaroo eating something green and leafy.
“Perfect weather for this competition,” Tim said. “Sweden’s Andar Lundqvist is back defending his title. Australia’s own Lucas Wilson was expected to be the wildcard today— he’s known for unpredictable levels of performance. When he’s hot, he’s red hot, and when he’s not, he’s really not. However, Lucas sustained an injury late yesterday afternoon and won’t be competing here today.” Action shots of each rider performing tricks on various half-pipes played as the announcer went through the list. “Simon Tremblay, a.k.a the Dreamcatcher, from Canada, is also here. You may remember the triple backflip he mastered that brought all the extreme biking enthusiasts to their knees three years ago. Though he wasn’t the first to do a triple, his technique is too solid not to admire. There’s been a lot of buzz about him leading into the competition.”
“My bet would be on him,” Chad chimed in, “except that there’s a newcomer to the Twister scene who’s been making waves like crazy. USA’s G. Hunter earned the name Candyman last year when he executed a crazy Superman-tailwhip-backflip combo at the Avalanche Games in Utah. It was like he was just hanging in the air! It was beautiful!”
“I was there, Chad,” Tim said, “and I could not believe my eyes.”
Langston stood in front of the television, holding the remote, intending to change the channel, but instead, just kept watching. The screen faded to black and an alternative version of Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory’s “The Candy Man” started playing. A rider sailed off a cliff before landing on the slope of a mountain and taking off downhill. Langston heard G. Hunter’s voiceover as he continued to watch more jumps that made his stomach climb to his throat.
“I’ve always been an adrenaline junkie,” G. Hunter said. “You only live once, you know?” He laughed. “Why not go for it?” G. Hunter zoomed off the lip of a mountain, flipped midair, and dropped several feet, landing with ease and riding along a ridge. “Yeah, I heard they call me Candyman because my moves are so sweet.” He laughed again. “I’ve worked hard to make it to the Twister Extreme Challenge, and I plan to annihilate and dominate.”
There was a slow motion clip of his silhouette riding against a bright sun, screeching to a halt and kicking up a lot of dust. The scene faded back to the live shot where G. Hunter was suited up, helmet tucked under his arm, waving to a crowd that had gone berserk at his appearance.
Langston felt like cheering himself. He’d seen this guy on television a couple times before and could see why the people were going crazy. G. Hunter radiated charisma. The sex appeal was practically leaping off of him. Langston took inventory, as he often did when struck by a guy who clearly knew how the world worked.
G. Hunter was lithe and handsome with skin the color of a chestnut. His dimples showed when he smiled and winked at the masses. A freaking bike-riding Adonis. With purple hair.
It wasn’t glaringly obvious at first, but when the camera zoomed in, Langston saw that G. Hunter had dyed his black hair a rather subtle eggplant, and as the camera swung across the people, he could see that several fans had dyed their hair in emulation. Langston wondered, for just a second, how he’d look with amethyst hair.
Ridiculous, that’s how, he thought.
He sighed heavily. This was the type of guy he’d always wanted to be. Carefree, awesome… coordinated.
But that wasn’t him. Not everyone can be a demi-god, I guess.
The phone rang, and he muted the television. It was Nate returning a call that Langston had made earlier that day.
“Listen,” Langston said, not bothering with a greeting. “I need to talk to J.T.”
“Why?”
Langston rolled his eyes. “Because I do.”
>
“He’s busy. What do you need him for?”
“I got chased last night.”
“By what?”
“By whom, and I don’t know. Whoever it was, they meant business.”
“Meaning?”
“They shot me.”
Nate actually laughed.
“It’s not funny,” Langston said. “I need to know if J.T. has anything to do with this.”
“Why would he?”
“Because, Nate, the nature of what we do could potentially land me in this situation.”
“J.T. keeps everything anonymous. There’s no way anyone could trace anything back to you.”
The phone beeped and Langston saw that it was Everett on call waiting. He ignored it. “You know who I am.”
“So… what? You’re calling me a snitch? Is that it? I’m a snitch?”
“Nate—”
“You need to take your nerdy ass on somewhere and do some damn work, Langston. I ain’t no snitch.”
“I don’t know how else—”
“Whatever you got yourself into has nothing to do with us. Tech 1225. That’s all you are to these people.”
“Can you just ask J.T. to call me?”
“Whatever.” Nate hung up.
Langston checked his call log. He’d missed four calls from Everett and made a mental note to call back later.
He returned his attention to the muted television. G. Hunter was doling out high fives to a group of excited kids jumping up and down.
Watching G. Hunter made Langston feel weak, inept. He turned off the television and wondered what would have happened if G. Hunter had been chased down the 405. Langston stared off into space, imagining the dexterity G. Hunter would have displayed. He certainly wouldn’t have gotten shot and he probably would have apprehended his attackers, all while on a BMX bike.
Langston returned to the bathroom to look in the mirror. He took off his glasses and squinted at his reflection, turning his head to the left and right, critiquing his profile. Not bad-looking, but ordinary. No charisma. He tried to strike a pose, hands on imaginary handlebars, head cocked slightly to the side. Devil-may-care, nonchalant bad boy.
“They call me Candyman,” Langston raised an eyebrow and winked, “because my moves? They. Are. So. Sweet.” He placed his hands on the counter, leaning into an imaginary camera. “And ladies? There’s enough of this sweet chocolate to go aro—”
His palm suddenly slipped on a wet spot and Langston lost his balance, taking a header straight into the mirror.
“Ah!”
His cheek smashed into the cold mirror, and he slid down an inch or so, making a streaky face print on the reflective surface. The sudden move put strain on his arm, and he bolted upright and grabbed his shoulder.
“Ow, ow, ow!”
He walked in circles until the pain subsided, breathing noisily through his gritted teeth. He wiped at the oily face print with a paper towel, jammed his glasses back on, and glared at his reflection.
It was time to get some fresh air. He put on his coat and sneakers and decided to leave the motorcycle in the parking deck. Today, he needed the comfort of his car, surrounded by a cage of metal. He took his time on the side streets, trying not to look in his rearview mirror every minute for a racing, armed car behind him.
“Be cool, Langston,” he said to himself. “Everything’s okay.”
He went to a shopping center where he picked up a few groceries and then wandered into a flower shop.
“Hello.” A woman with wispy white hair and kind brown eyes greeted him. “Welcome to Petals. I’m Dorothy if you need anything.”
“Hi.” Langston looked around. “I’m looking for flowers for someone.”
Dorothy ambled out from behind her station at the counter. “Anything in particular?”
“I’m not sure. Just something pretty I guess.”
“For your mother? Girlfriend?”
“It’s for a friend… who’s a girl.”
She clasped her ivory, liver-spotted hands together and leaned in conspiratorially. “What’s her name?”
Langston tried not to grin too widely, but he couldn’t help himself. “Jade.”
“Is she pretty?”
“Very.”
Dorothy made a high-pitched, excited noise. “I just love young love! I remember those days.” She sighed and Langston smelled spearmint. “Do you know I’ve been married for fifty years?”
“Wow,” Langston said. “Congratulations.”
She smiled proudly. “Eight grandchildren. And they’re all in town for Christmas!”
“That’s a lot of people.”
“It sure is!” She smiled and straightened her bright red apron. “Does your Jade have a favorite flower or color?”
Langston looked around. “I’m not sure yet.”
“That’s quite alright.” She patted his arm. “You let me take care of it. Don’t worry about a thing.”
Langston nodded and walked around the cloyingly sweet-smelling shop, taking in all of the different displays and coolers full of flowers. He heard Dorothy in the back rustling around and humming to “When a Man Loves a Woman” piping in from the speakers. Abundant sunshine streamed in through the shop windows, bathing all of the petals in light. He stared at the beautiful shades of red and yellow and green, letting his mind drift.
Langston, dressed in a sponsored jersey, was being lifted on the shoulders of a cheering crowd as red, yellow, and green metallic confetti rained down on him. He took off his helmet, revealing dark purple hair.
Jade floated toward him as the crowd parted. Her lips were glistening with gloss, and her hair was in loose curls and gently flowed back in the breeze. One lock was dyed purple.
She looked up at him. “I love you, Candyman.”
Dorothy, the flower shop owner, appeared beside Jade in her apron, holding a handful of cheerful-looking flowers.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Young man?”
Jade looked at Dorothy, then back at Langston. “Candyman! I thought I was your only girl!”
“You are!” Langston said.
“Then who’s this floozy?”
Dorothy continued to wave her flowers. “Young man? Excuse me?”
“Nobody. Jade, I don’t even know her!”
“Hmph!” Jade whipped around, flowing hair and all, and floated away.
Langston tried to get down off of the people’s shoulders so he could go after her, but they would not release him.
“Jade!”
Langston felt a hand on his arm and blinked. He was still in the flower shop and Dorothy was standing in front of him, holding a handful of flowers and looking concerned. “Are you alright?”
Langston focused on her. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Just daydreaming.”
“Would you like to have a seat? I keep a stool behind the counter.”
Langston lifted a hand. “No, I’m okay.”
“Well… okay.” She held up the flowers. “I was saying that these Gerbera daisies were popular. Don’t they look friendly? Do you like them?”
They looked like multicolored miniature suns on stems. “Yes.”
“Good. I thought you would.” She pointed. “The stool is right there if you change your mind.”
“Thank you.”
She disappeared back through the doorway behind the counter. He meandered to the plate glass window and watched the traffic for a while until he noticed a petite, Asian woman standing on the sidewalk across the street. Langston didn’t think much about her until there was a lull in traffic and she didn’t cross over.
She wore a wool coat, blue skirt and sneakers. Langston walked toward the door, away from the sun’s glare to get a better look at her.
“What the…?”
Langston walked out the front door, making the bell attached to it jingle, and squinted. She was staring right back at him. Rise and shine, Langston. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
The woman lifted her han
d like she was going to wave, but paused mid-motion and let her hand fall to her side.
Langston bolted back into the shop calling loudly, “I’m sorry, I have to—” He crashed right into Dorothy. “Ah!”
She reached out to steady him. “You are a strange one, aren’t you?” She said it endearingly, and Langston wasn’t offended. “Your flowers are ready.”
Langston saw a beautiful bouquet of pale pink, dark pink, and white daisies with greenery, the stems wrapped in white satin ribbon on the counter next to the register. “Yeah. Thanks. Pretty.” He dug into his pocket, giving a panicky glance over his shoulder. The woman was crossing the street, coming closer to Langston.
“Thank you.” Dorothy took her time walking to the other side of the counter to ring him up. “I started to put in yellow ones, but I thought—”
“I’m sorry,” Langston put down two twenty dollar bills. “I have to go.” He reached for the flowers.
“Just a minute.” Dorothy reached under the counter. “Now you can use crushed aspirin or sugar, but they need food…”
Oh my God, shut up! I have to go!
“… so here are a couple packets. Cut them under water at an angle…”
Shutupshutupshutup!
“… and they’ll last a little longer. You know, I heard that if you—”
Langston snatched the flowers off the counter, barely listening. “Will do! Gotta go. Thanks!”
He rushed out of the door, but stopped short. The woman had disappeared. Langston searched the parking lot and sidewalks frantically for a glimpse of blue, but she was gone.
Ignoring the strange looks bystanders were giving him, Langston bolted to his car, hopped in as quickly as his injured arm would allow without crushing the flowers, and sped out of the parking lot toward home.
Chapter Six
Langston’s mind was racing by the time he rushed into his apartment and locked himself in. He took a deep breath and leaned against the door, waiting for his rapid heartbeat to calm. He walked to the couch and found a pad, writing:
1) Mystery car and shooting = J.T.?
2) Woman in nightmare: Real? Hallucination?
The Wiseman Revelation (The Wiseman Series Book 2) Page 5