by R. T. Lowe
A man in tan slacks and a pink polo shirt approached Dirk’s table. In his mid-forties, he was short and slight with a sunburned face and no hair except for a thin ring that ran from the back of his head to his ears.
“Hello David,” Dirk said, glancing up.
“Dirk.” David took a seat across from him, letting out a weary groan. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that beard. When do you think you’ll be shaving it off?”
“Are you seriously asking me about my facial hair?”
“Of course not.” David tapped his fingers nervously on the table. “You know what I’m asking.”
“And I think you know why I asked you to come here.”
“I thought you were just trying to poison me,” David said sourly. He turned around for a moment, wrinkling his nose at a long line of truckers silently shoveling down their lard-laden lunches at the counter. “It doesn’t even smell like food in here.” He sniffed the air. “It smells like… I can’t quite place it. Maybe vinegar, baby shit and taco meat? How’s the coffee?”
“Worse than it smells. But probably the safest thing on the menu.”
“It’d probably burn a hole in my colon,” David said. “So what’s the—?”
“First tell me about Mesmerizer. Everyone’s saying I’m Phillip. Everyone but you.”
“Not having a cell makes it a little tricky to have a private conversation with you,” David replied. “But I can confirm the rumors. Done deal. And I have the signed contract to prove it. I have no idea what a Demongel is. I’ll have to ask my daughter about that.” He stared at Dirk and a self-satisfied grin fell over his face. “Twenty-two million and a percentage of the gross. We’re talking Downey’s Iron Man money—almost.”
“I would have done it for free,” Dirk told him.
“Well then it’s a damn good thing you have me for an agent. You know it’s going to be an absolute monster franchise. Everyone had their hat in the ring. You name ‘em: Pine. The Hemsworth brothers. Tatum. Efron. Some moptop from One Direction. There’ll be at least four movies, and they’ll probably stretch it to five—even six. Ten or twelve years before it’s done.”
Dirk watched a waitress in a grease-stained apron taking an order from a man sitting next to a display case filled with meringue-topped pies that looked like they could double as masonry supplies. “For the next decade, Mesmerizer will be jammed down the throats of every teenager and twenty-something in the country.” He smiled. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”
“Relieved?” David replied, apparently surprised at Dirk’s choice of words. “That you got the part or that your crazy plan actually worked? I’ll be the first to admit I had my reservations. But I’ve gotta hand it to you. You knew what you were doing. You can’t turn on the TV or the radio or anything else without hearing about Dirk Rathman. They run that clip all the time of you falling off your house. And the footage at that restaurant is like HD quality. There was so much video taken from so many different angles it looks like Ang Lee directed it. Over ten million mentions on Facebook in the first thirty minutes after the story broke. The kids in my office were very impressed by that. And the speculation’s out of control. You’ve been MIA for seven weeks in case you don’t have a calendar wherever it is you’re hiding. My office has been denying all the usual rumors: you don’t have a drug problem; you don’t have an eating disorder; you didn’t have a psychotic break; you’re not living off the land in the wilderness; you’re not suffering from exhaustion; you’re not a sex addict; you’re not possessed by the devil.” He laughed. “If it wasn’t for your daily tweets, we’d be buried with death rumors.”
“Part of the plan,” Dirk said coolly.
“Which reminds me.” David leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “When I was negotiating Mesmerizer, the team there was impressed by your presence. It seems that being the center of scandal and controversy makes people very happy these days. And I’m talking about important people here. The empire makers. The guys who lube the gears of the Hollywood machine. The guys whose asses get kissed by Presidents in election years. Your Twitter count is exploding. You left Kim Kardashian’s gigantic caboose in your rearview mirror a long time ago. What are you—halfway to Katy Perry now? Taylor Swift?”
“Getting there.”
“Well,” David said, “without your plan, you don’t get the part. I’m sure of that. But there’s still one thing I don’t understand. Why negative publicity? Why do you want everyone to think you’re a disaster?”
Dirk sat silently for a moment, a trace of a smile on his face as he looked around to make sure no one was watching. Then he rolled his sleeve back to his elbow and held out his arm, nodding for David to look at it. “Because you can’t be saved unless you’ve fallen,” he said slowly, his voice thick with meaning.
David’s eyes followed Dirk’s prompt. Then he flinched back against his seat, his arms unsticking themselves from the butter and gravy-crusted table. Startled, one hand went to his mouth as he stared down at the tattoo on Dirk’s arm; it was a tiger—a snarling tiger—with one heavy paw raised high as if it was about to decapitate its prey, and it stretched across Dirk’s forearm from the lower part of his bicep to his wrist. It almost appeared three-dimensional, like it was preparing to jump across the table to take a swipe at him.
“I should’ve known it was something like this,” David said softly, after he’d collected himself. “Some of your tweets are clearly political. But the ERA? I know you’re a smart guy with a social conscience, but I guess I never thought you’d join something like that. I mean, I know how you feel about the Scientologists.”
“This is very different,” Dirk said. “And I’m not just joining the ERA. I’m going to be taking on a much more… important role.”
“Oh?” David fell silent for a second. He raised an eyebrow at Dirk and said ominously, “How important?”
“Important. For now, I need you to keep fanning the flames. When this whole thing is about to burst, I’ll need you to arrange a press conference. I’ll make an announcement. We’ll make it all very official. But until then, you need to keep this quiet. We can’t have any leaks. Tell no one. Not even my publicists.”
“Of course.” David nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “You know—I think the public will like this. The kids love the ERA. It’s trending big time with high school and college kids.” He paused for a moment, his eyes lowering to the table. “But I’m still not sure what the um… what the end game is here.”
“This is it,” Dirk said, his voice dropping a register. “And David—this isn’t a game.”
Chapter 24
Breaking the Seal
The big round table in Woodrow’s Room seemed even more massive when it was in use. With ten chairs, and just five people to fill them, all the extra space made them feel small, like they were children crashing the big persons’ table at Thanksgiving.
“Did you hear they called off the search for the brothers?” Lucas asked, more interested in talking than studying. “Ashfield Forest strikes again, huh?”
“You’re just trying to scare me.” Caitlin looked up from her computer. For the first hour, they’d all been whispering to each other as if they were afraid of being found out. But gradually, as they grew more comfortable with the room (it was bright—since Caitlin insisted that every light stay on—and the air didn’t seem as musty as before), they began to speak in their normal voices. Except for Caitlin, that is, who was still pitching her voice low.
“I wouldn’t have to try,” Lucas replied, smiling. Caitlin had agreed to come to Woodrow’s Room, but only ‘under protest’ and on a ‘test basis’. If she heard any strange noises or saw anything out of the ordinary, she would leave immediately and had made everyone promise they would leave with her so she wouldn’t have to walk the fourth floor by herself.
“Well, they haven’t found a thing in almost two weeks,” Allison said. “The Ashfield Forest Mystery just got more mysterious.”
&n
bsp; “I still don’t think they should give up,” Harper said. “So soon, anyway.”
Caitlin nodded in agreement.
“What do you think, Felix?” Allison asked. “Felix? Felix!”
“Huh?” Felix was sitting in silence, his forehead propped on one palm, staring idly at the items on the table: notebooks, pens, five laptops, stacks of books, two bottles of water, a Gatorade, three cans of Diet Coke and an empty crumpled bag of kettle cooked barbeque potato chips. His encounter with Bill this morning had been gnawing at him all day. He wanted to tell everyone about it (which compounded the stress he already felt from not being able to tell them about the tunnels and the St. Rose Ghost), but he couldn’t without bringing up his parents—and that just wasn’t going to happen. So like a looped video, he replayed the conversation with the groundskeeper over and over in his head.
“The search,” Allison said to him. “They stopped looking. What do you think?”
“Sorry.” Felix scrubbed his hands through his hair. “It’s awful. But I guess, you know, they wouldn’t stop looking if they thought there was any chance they could find them.”
“Hey!” Lucas said abruptly, a big grin stretching across his face. “I’ve got an idea. Anyone up for camping? I hear Ashfield Forest’s beautiful this time of year. The fall foliage is supposed to be spectacular.”
“I like it!” Harper said giddily. “Five college kids on a spur-of-the-moment camping adventure. What could possibly go wrong?” Felix felt himself staring at her, but he didn’t fight it too hard. She was wearing a baseball hat and a sweatshirt. She looked amazing. She could wear a burlap sack and still look amazing.
“I think I’ve seen that movie,” Caitlin muttered dryly, a tiny smile touching her lips.
“Why are college kids always so dumb in movies?” Allison was sitting back in her chair with a book in her lap, balanced on her knees. “If this was a movie, we’d all be like, ‘awesome idea, Lucas, let’s go!’ We’re never going to Ashfield Forest. Like never. Never. Never.”
“Never say never.” Lucas twirled a pen with his fingers, from thumb to pinkie and back again. He was really quite good at it. Earlier, he’d been balancing a book on his head until Caitlin expressed her annoyance by hitting him in the face with a wadded up piece of paper. “What are you reading, anyway?” he asked curiously, turning to Allison. “That isn’t… is that what I think it is? Are you seriously reading that? That bondage shit?” Lucas shook his head in disgust. “I don’t even understand why everyone thinks those books are so shocking. Ever hear of the Internet? You want shocking? Go to Google and type in triple an—”
“No.” Allison laughed as she held up the paperback so everyone could see the cover: three gorgeous shirtless guys with perfectly sculpted physiques standing in a circle around a beautiful young woman. The girl, wearing a long flowing gown, was on her knees, looking up at the men with a hunted look in her eyes. The men looked like they wanted to have sex with her. Or eat her. Felix wasn’t sure which.
“Hey—Mesmerizer Jolie!” Harper blurted, wedging a bookmark into her Political Science textbook and snapping it shut. “That’s the first one. I think it’s my favorite.”
“You’re reading a book?” Lucas sounded surprised. “Midterms are like a minute away.”
Allison shrugged. “I’m all caught up. I’m bored. I wish they’d let me take more classes.”
“I’ll give you some of mine,” Lucas said with a wry look. “If you’re so bored, why are you reading a crap book like that?”
Caitlin made a face at him. “You don’t even know what it’s about. It might be mindless, vapid, brain candy, but it’s like an escape, a guilty pleasure. I loved it. And it’s like the number one book in the country.”
“So what’s it about?” Lucas asked.
“I would tell you,” Allison said cautiously, “but you’re only going to make fun of it.”
“I promise I won’t.” Lucas cracked a grin.
“I don’t believe you.” Allison paused, smiling. “I’m probably going to regret this. So—I haven’t finished it yet. But so far, it’s about this girl who’s in high school. Her name’s Jolie. And there are these three kids who are madly in love with her. But it turns out one’s a werewolf, one’s a vampire, and the other one—Phillip—he’s a Demongel.”
“A what?” Lucas asked, confused.
“A Demongel,” Harper said. “Half demon, half angel. And the werewolves and the vampires are at war because that’s what werewolves and vampires do when they’re bored. And the angels are at war against the demons, the werewolves and the vampires. And Phillip’s really conflicted because demons and angels are mortal enemies.”
“Okay.” A smile crept over Lucas’s face. “So does the angel part of him get into fights with the demon part? Does he like beat himself up all the time, or what?”
Harper nodded. “Yeah, but it’s more emotional battery than physical. He tries to kill himself once in a while, but the angel inside him considers it a sin so he can’t actually do it.”
“Wow,” Lucas said. “That’s deep. So why are all those dudes so infatuated with this Jolie chick? Is she hot? She’s gotta be, right? Like Kate Upton hot.”
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Allison said thoughtfully. “She’s kind of pathetic in a lot of ways. She’s needy, self-absorbed, love-starved and completely dependent on these guys who treat her like a child. And she trips and falls down a lot. I don’t know. I think maybe she um… well… she smells nice. But I’m guessing she’ll probably end up being a witch, or a fairy, or an alien, or something like that. Or maybe somebody’ll bite her and turn her into something scary.”
“Interesting.” Lucas stroked his chin as though he was deep in thought. “I can tell you—speaking just for me, anyway—that I’m totally into chicks with balance issues that smell like cookie dough. Caitlin”—he turned to her—“if you face-planted once in a while, I might let you take advantage of me when I’m drunk.”
“Suck it.” Caitlin flipped a page in her textbook without looking up.
Lucas broke out in a roar of hysterical laughter and shouted up at the ceiling, “That’s so lame! How can you take that shit seriously, Allison?”
“Yeah?” Allison tossed the book on the table. It slid across the polished surface, almost reaching the center before spinning to a stop after several revolutions. “How can anyone take you seriously?”
“I’m not the one reading fairy tale porn,” Lucas replied.
Felix slunk down so that the small of his back rested on the edge of the chair. He could see where this was heading.
Allison let out a sharp breath. “And I’m not the one who hooked up with Asher Schimmel’s girlfriend!”
“What?” Lucas said. He looked stunned. “How’d you…?” He gave Felix an accusing glance. “Well at least I’m not like Felix over there who hooked up with the girl-with-the-dragon-tattoo!”
“What?” Felix sat up abruptly in his chair. “Leave me outta this. I didn’t tell Allison anything. And I didn’t hook up with that chick! And it’s not a dragon. It’s a tiger.”
“A tiger tattoo?” Allison cried out, her eyes wide. “You hooked up with an ERA chick? Are you crazy? Who was it?”
“You did?” Harper said to him, a brief grimace tightening her face. “Seriously?”
“No!” Felix felt his hangover coming back. “Her name’s Amber. She wanted to hook up. She was all over me and saying some crazy shit. I swear she would’ve raped me if I didn’t boot her ass outta the room.”
“She ugly?” Lucas asked, his expression serious.
“No. Trashy—but hot.”
“Hot?” Lucas flinched like a fork had jabbed him in the eyeball. “So what the hell’s wrong with you?”
“Felix has morals,” Caitlin said. “You might want to familiarize yourself with the concept.”
“Morals?” Lucas hugged his arms across his chest and shivered like the hot water had run out while he was in the shower. “
Morals are one thing. Kicking a hot chick out of your room is insane.”
“I didn’t tell anyone about Piper,” Felix said solemnly. “I swear.”
Lucas pointed a finger at Caitlin. “It was you!”
“She posted it on Facebook, you idiot.” Caitlin shook her head as she continued typing on her laptop.
“Oh. Really?” Lucas snorted and laughed. “Damn Facebook. She told me she broke up with Asher last year.”
“I told you not to trust her,” Caitlin said with a little huff of exasperation.
Lucas shrugged, smiling. “Ah, well. Live and learn.”
“You’re really taking this to heart, aren’t you?” Allison said, her voice thick with sarcasm.
Lucas stared at Allison, his smile fading. “So that’s how you wanna play, huh? Okay. Kid gloves are off. I was actually considering keeping this to myself, but not anymore. I have a source who tells me you hooked up with the governor—Grayson Bentley himself.”
“What?” Felix said. “Grayson?”
Allison picked at the polish on her fingernails, frowning. She was trying to keep her face blank, but she looked like she’d been caught downloading Michael Bolton. “It was just dinner,” she admitted, not looking up. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Why would you—?” Felix began.
“Why would I what?” Allison’s eyes flashed at Felix. “Go on a date?”
“No,” Felix said. “Why would you go on a date with that asshole?”
“Ohhhhh?” Allison said, drawing the word out. “And what about Emma? She didn’t have any issues? How many years did you waste with that selfish bitch?”
Felix was stunned into silence.
Caitlin squirmed and stood up for a moment to slide a leg between her butt and the seat of her chair. Lucas went back to twirling his pen. Harper leaned back and crossed her legs, observing the exchange.
“Look,” Allison said wearily. “For what it’s worth—and not that I owe you an explanation—but I agree with you: Grayson’s an asshole. And that’s it. I’m not talking about it anymore.”