by ML Hamilton
Crossing to it, he stared down at the address – typed, official, with a postage stamp in the proper upper right hand corner. He didn’t recognize the address, but based on the name of the street, he figured it belonged to the stadium.
He tilted it and looked at the return address. He didn’t recognize the name of the company, an acronym – BPI, but it also looked official. As did the packaging. The box was small, square, and taped along each seam.
He placed it on the table again and backed away from it. Strange things kept showing up in his dressing room and he didn’t understand why. Dominic had been with him since he left the hotel, but he hadn’t been guarding the dressing room. Anyone could have put it in here, anyone at all.
He turned and started for the door, but stopped himself as his fingers closed on the handle. Why was he getting so spooked? He had moved the package all over and nothing had happened. Someone had probably sent him a gift of some kind.
Drawing a deep breath, he released his hold on the knob and returned to the table. Grabbing a pen, he used the tip to slice open the tape and parted the flaps.
A bubble wrapped bundle dropped into his hands. It didn’t weigh anything and he stared at it in confusion. Placing it on the table, he tilted the box toward him and looked inside, certain he would find a packing slip.
The box was empty.
Reaching for the bubble wrap, he tore the tape off and pulled it apart. Staring down at the object in his hands, he let it fall to the table and stepped away from it. In the middle of the bubble wrap was a syringe.
He took another step back and his thigh hit the edge of a chair. Sinking down into it, he couldn’t take his eyes off the syringe. The roar of blood in his ears deafened him and black spots danced before his eyes.
He realized he was panting and tried to slow his breathing, but a cold sweat broke out over his skin. A strange metallic taste filled his mouth and he realized his hands were shaking as he closed them over his knees.
Forcing his eyes to close, he again tried to calm his breathing. Okay, think, Joshua. The syringe is new. The cap is still in place and there’s nothing in the tube. It’s just a prank – just a sick, demented prank someone’s playing on you.
Leaning forward, he covered his face with his hands and lowered his head. The position eased some of the black spots dancing in his line of sight, but every nerve tingled along the length of his arms and legs.
Who would send something like this? Julian was the first that came to mind, but that wasn’t being fair. There had been the magazine article questioning his sobriety. Thousands of people had read it. Any one of them might be capable of playing a sick joke.
He chanced a peek at it through his fingers. Strange that something so small could make him panic so, but he remembered…he remembered how it felt to slide that needle into a vein and fill it with sweet oblivion. If he tried hard enough he could catch a trace of that feeling even now, even after so many years.
He jumped when the knock came at the door behind him. Lunging forward, he threw the bubble wrap over the syringe and cringed.
“Five minute warning, boss,” shouted Dominic.
“Shit,” Joshua swore, his fingers tightening over the package.
“Boss?”
“Y-yeah,” Joshua stuttered. His voice sounded frantic to his own ears. Grabbing the bubble wrap and syringe both, he stumbled into the bathroom and threw up the toilet seat, then he shook the syringe into the toilet, but rather than flushing it down, he stood staring at it.
Such a small thing. Such an unimportant thing, really. For some it was a life-giver – for him, death, enslavement, oblivion – sweet, sweet oblivion. No worries, no pain, no suffering, just oblivion. When he used, nothing else mattered, no one mattered, just the drug, just the high.
“Boss!”
Joshua dove for the handle and depressed it. The toilet roared to life, swirling water into the bowl, tossing the syringe around and around, until it was sucked down and out of sight.
Joshua slumped back against the wall, the bubble wrap forgotten in his hands. He was drenched in sweat and his breathing was too quick. The tips of his fingers still tingled with remembered feeling.
“Josh?”
Dominic appeared in the doorway, his face contracted with concern. Joshua looked up at him, but his eyes immediately returned to the toilet. Dominic closed his hand on his shoulder.
“You sick?”
Joshua tore his eyes from the water in the bowl and blinked at his bodyguard. He couldn’t process Dominic’s question. The blood was still roaring in his ears.
Dominic’s fingers tightened. “Sit down. I’ll get a medic.” He turned to go, but Joshua caught his arm.
“No, wait.” He brushed the sweat from his upper lip. “I’m all right.” He staggered to the sink and turned on the water, then bent over and cupped it in his hands. Bringing it to his face, he closed his eyes and let the coolness of it calm the raging emotions inside of him. Slowly, feeling was returning to his extremities and the black spots were vanishing.
Dominic put a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t look all right.”
Joshua lifted his head and stared at his reflection in the mirror. The pupils of his eyes were dilated. Reaching for the towel, he dried his face and ran it over the back of his neck. He wished he had time to change his shirt, but he’d be sweating again the minute the stage lights fell on him.
“I’m all right, Dominic. Thanks for the concern.”
“What the hell happened?”
Joshua’s eyes went involuntarily to the toilet and he snatched on something Dominic had said himself. “I got sick. Must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me.”
Dominic frowned. “You sure? Why don’t I get the medic to check you out?”
Joshua shook his head. “I’m fine now. Come on. They must have taken the stage already.”
Dominic moved out of the tight bathroom. Joshua started to follow him, but his eye caught on the bubble wrap. Kicking it behind the toilet, he moved into the dressing room. The box was where he left it. He knocked it off under the table as he and Dominic walked toward the door.
Julian was coming toward them as they entered backstage. He gave Dominic a growl and glared at Joshua, but his expression changed when he saw the look on Joshua’s face.
“What’s wrong?”
Joshua studied him suspiciously, but nothing in Julian’s demeanor suggested anything but concern.
Dominic blocked him from getting any closer to Joshua. “He’s not feeling well. I want the medic to look at him.”
Julian’s attention shifted to Joshua. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” said Joshua, pushing past both of them. “Dominic’s over-reacting. I’m fine.”
“You’re also late. Avalanche is playing an instrumental waiting for you.”
Joshua hurried to the edge of the stage and looked out. The crowd was swaying to the sound of the instruments, rapt with anticipation. He hesitated and glanced at Julian over his shoulder.
“What’s BPI, Julian?”
The manager exchanged a look with Dominic. “How the hell should I know? What’s wrong with you? Did you have a stroke or something?”
Joshua stared at him so long that Julian squirmed. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Just fine.” He emphasized the last words, then stepped onto the stage and into the spot light.
* * *
Joshua glanced at the concierge from the corner of his eye, then pulled out the seat in front of the computer and sank into it. As he reached for the mouse, he was shocked to see his hand trembling. Why the hell was he so anxious? No one would question why he wanted to use the hotel computer. They were available to all of the patrons.
He heard people enter the lobby behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he marked that they were strangers, then returned his attention to the computer screen. Sliding the cursor to the search engine, he punched in BPI with one finger, then pressed enter.
&nbs
p; Two girls behind him giggled and Joshua’s attention was distracted by them. They were staring at him, smiling and elbowing each other. He gave them a ghost of a smile, then shifted his gaze to the concierge. Dominic was upstairs, believing he was lying down for a nap. He’d snuck down to the lobby so he could search the computer alone.
So far there were only two girls here, but if there were more, he might be in trouble. He would never forget how they had torn into him during the concert, all to get a piece of him, not out of any real intent to hurt him.
The concierge was busy typing something on his own computer and didn’t seem to be aware of the attention Joshua was drawing. Glancing at the girls again, he noticed they seemed content to stare at him, nothing more. He forced himself to relax.
He scanned the options that came up as a result of his search. The first entry made him narrow his eyes. He moved the cursor to it and clicked. A blue and grey screen popped up with the name Bayside Pharmaceutical across the top.
Joshua sat back in his chair and exhaled. Scanning the web page, he located a phone number at the bottom. Reaching for a scrap of paper in his pocket, he looked around the desk for a pen.
“Can we have your autograph?” asked one of the girls.
Joshua took the napkin from her hand and reached for the pen. He glanced at the computer screen. “Sure, if I can borrow this,” he answered.
She giggled with her companion, then nodded.
Joshua wrote BPI’s number on his scrap of paper, then canted a look at the girl. “What’s your name?”
“Melissa,” she said with wide-eyed pleasure, “and this is my cousin, Angie.”
Joshua scribbled a note to Melissa on one side of the napkin and Angie on the other, then he handed both the napkin and the pen back. They huddled over it, but Joshua’s attention was drawn to the area behind them. More people had begun to realize just who he was and were working up the courage to approach him.
“See ya later, girls,” he said, rising and hurrying for the elevators.
“Thanks,” they called to him in chorus as he punched the button.
He glanced over his shoulder, noting that a few people were moving toward him. He punched the button again, feeling a wash of panic. He shouldn’t have taken such a risk. He could have asked Elena to use her laptop, but he hadn’t wanted to get into an explanation with her. Not about this. There was no way he could explain what happened without looking guilty. For some things, there was no innocent until proven guilty clause. For some things there was just the guilt.
The elevator bell chimed and the doors swished open. Joshua didn’t wait for the people to disembark before he pushed between them and moved into the corner of the small chamber. They gave him a dark look before realizing who he was.
“Sorry,” he mouthed, then punched the button for his floor.
As the doors closed, he could see people hurrying toward the elevator and stopping with groans of frustration as he made his escape. He leaned his head back against the mirror and breathed a sigh of relief, then reached into his pocket for the scrap of paper.
He stared at the number as the elevator settled and the doors opened. The hallway to his room was empty. He had no desire to be caught by anyone else, so he hurried down the corridor. Pulling the key card from his back pocket, he placed it in the slot and waited for the light to turn green, then he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
He could hear the shower running, but even so, he walked to the balcony, slid open the door, and stepped out. Closing the door behind him, he walked to the railing and looked down on the city street beneath him as he reached for his cell phone.
He felt guilty hiding this from Elena, but their relationship was still too new for him to take any chances. He didn’t think she believed there was any truth to the magazine article; in fact, she blamed Julian for it as much as he did himself, but if she knew about the syringe, it might be a little harder to ignore.
He punched the telephone number into the display and held it to his ear. It rang three times before someone picked up. Joshua heard the female voice on the other end tell him the name of the company, but he couldn’t answer. He held the phone to his ear and stared at the number in his hand.
“Hello?” she said, sounding annoyed.
“Hi,” he managed to say, then leaned against the rail and stared into the hotel room.
“Can I help you?”
“Uh, yes.” He closed the paper in his fist. “I…uh, received a package from your company yesterday and I was just wondering…” His voice faltered.
“Was the package damaged? If you have it in front of you, would you read the number found on the prescription on the upper right hand side?”
“No, it wasn’t damaged,” said Joshua. “I wanted to know who sent it. There wasn’t a packing slip or anything inside.”
“I see. You want me to tell you who ordered your prescription?”
“It wasn’t exactly a prescription, but yes, I need to know who sent it.”
“Well, sir, it would have to be either you or your doctor.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
She gave an exasperated sigh. “Can you give me the prescription number?”
“It wasn’t a prescription,” Joshua snapped, then closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Can you look it up with my name?”
“I can try.’
“It was sent to Joshua…Joshua Ravensong.”
She fell silent, but Joshua didn’t hear the sound of a keyboard. He waited for a moment, but he was too nervous to wait long.
“Hello?”
“Joshua Ravensong…the Joshua Ravensong?”
“The only one I know,” he answered.
“I’m a huge fan,” she breathed into the phone and now he could hear her nails tapping against the keyboard. “A really huge fan.”
“Thank you,” responded Joshua.
“Why haven’t you done any movies lately? I’ve loved every movie you’ve ever done.”
Joshua wasn’t sure how to answer that. “Ah…”
“I wanted to get tickets to this tour you’re on, but the closest stadium is more than three hours away. That’s a little far for one night, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he said, shifting anxiously. “Have you found anything?”
“Hold on a moment. The computer is being really picky today.”
Joshua stared through the glass doors, wishing he could hear if the water had stopped running.
“I guess you must get tired of talking about yourself all of the time, huh? People always asking you questions?”
“Sometimes.”
“Yeah, everyone thinks it would be great to be famous and all, but I guess it wouldn’t be as much fun as…” Her voice trailed away.
“You there?” asked Joshua.
“Yeah, uh, yeah, I’m here.”
“Did you find something?” Her voice didn’t sound as friendly as it had just a moment before. Joshua felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead.
“Look, I need some sort of verification that you are who you say you are? Birthday, anything?”
Joshua frowned. His birthdate was plastered all over the internet, as was much of his personal information – like his past drug addiction. He suddenly understood what had made her cool to him so rapidly.
“Listen, I didn’t order that, if that’s what you’re thinking. That’s why I’m calling you. I need to know who sent it. It was a really dirty prank and I’d like to get to the bottom of it.”
“I’m not here to judge anyone, Mr. Ravensong.”
Joshua closed his eyes. He could see the very next article that was going to hit the tabloids tomorrow. “Please listen to me. I just need to know who sent the package. Can you just give me a name? Someone had to place that order. Please, please tell me who.”
She didn’t answer. The static on the phone sounded deafening to Joshua. He realized he was gripping the receiver until his fingers ached.
“Pl
ease…”
“This information is confidential,” she answered.
Yeah, but it would still be all over the newsstands tomorrow. “I understand that. I’m not asking for an address or a credit card number, just the name of the person who placed the order.”
“You.”
Joshua wasn’t sure he heard her correctly. “What?”
“You placed it, Mr. Ravensong, you are the one who called.”
Joshua found himself sitting on the lounge chair. He didn’t remember taking a seat. “I placed it?”
“Yes, sir. Was there a problem with the item?” Joshua could hear the strain in her voice, the note of disapproval. Only moments before she had been gushing over him, now she was distant, cold.
He didn’t answer.
“Mr. Ravensong? Do you want to issue a complaint?”
Joshua stared at the building across from the hotel. He could see people moving around in offices, but it didn’t really register to him. What the hell was happening to him? He knew he hadn’t ordered the syringe, but a sick feeling was worrying in the pit of his stomach. What if he had? He’d had blackouts before.
“Mr. Ravensong” she said sharply in his ear, snapping him back to the present. “Are you still there?”
“Yes,” he answered softly. “Thank you for your help.” He didn’t wait to hear what she said, simply closed the phone and sat, staring at it in his hands.
* * *
He could only open one eye, something had flowed down over the other, blinding him. He tried to lift his hand to brush it away, but his hand wouldn’t respond. He shifted, trying to see what held him, but pain radiated through his body, pain like nothing he’d ever felt before. It stole his breath and made him whimper. He couldn’t believe such a lost and wounded sound had come from him.
“It’s all right,” came a voice in his ear. “We’re getting you out. Don’t try to move.”
“What’s happening?” he heard himself say. It was like trying to speak under water. For some reason his good eye had fallen shut and he tried to force it open, but it was too hard. Red lights played against his eyelids and there was a shrieking noise in his ears.