The Stage

by Catherine Russell

  Then it happened again.

  You can trust me, his voice said, but his lips hadn’t moved. I shook my head hard, trying to clear out the cobwebs and confusion.

  “She’s frightened, Geoffrey,” the woman said. She took a small step back and stretched out her hand to tug at his sleeve. I took one last look at him before I ran for it. There was a familiarity to his face, a kindness that showed around his eyes, a gentleness in the way his hair fell to one side of his face. I racked my brain, trying to remember where I had first met him, but it was hopeless. I tried to bolt up the stairs, but once again my lack of coherence and balance betrayed me and I fell face-first on the landing. Instantly I saw stars, but what should have been extremely painful was only a slight pressure. I quickly realized why.

  “Megan? Easy does it,” his lips breathed on my ear.

  Who the hell is this guy? The coolness of his hands on my head eased the slight ache, and I knew I couldn’t run now if my life depended on it. I lay flat, motionless, as he carefully lifted me up and carried me.

  I floated between space and time then… but I wasn’t alone. Images flickered like an old movie house, flashing before my eyes. I was very small, staring down at my small hands, which were covered with dirt and filth. I looked around me and instantly recognized where I was. I was four years old and in the collapsed cave. Toto, my scrappy little dog, was standing guard, trying desperately to pull on my sleeve, hoping to free me from the rubble. Then Toto looked up and barked once, sitting down next to me with his paw on my arm. I tried to turn to see who he was reacting to, but my rescuer’s face wasn’t very clear. Except for his eyes; those deep, sapphire-blue eyes…

  Hold on a sec! That was him! The images began to fade as I reached up to touch his face. Wait! How? I heard my little-girl voice begging him to stay.

  We will meet again, love. Go now… remember me. Remember me. His lips had moved but I heard no sound from them… it was only in my mind. His haunting, unspoken words were frightening at first, but I felt the love behind them. It was something I’d never felt before, but I couldn’t deny what it was. Then everything went dark. I could hear Toto barking, and then I heard a voice barking orders—screaming them, actually.

  It was too many voices, too loud. What the hell is going on? Oh my God, I hurt all over! My head was pounding…

  “I found her!” someone cried as I opened my eyes and realized my hand was frozen in midair, reaching for a vision that was no longer there. Ian and a waitress I recognized were kneeling next to me in the drab, dark storeroom. I dropped my hand and tried to sit up.

  “Whoa, Megan! Not so fast. You’ve got a nice goose egg there,” Dawn said as she pressed an ice pack gently on my forehead. She had curly, thick red hair, and I remembered she was studying social work. Ian had folded his apron and was putting it under my head—which felt like it was about to split open.

  “What the hell happened?” I asked—and then I heard Ashleigh’s signature

  stilettos charging down the hall. I quickly fought off their hands from holding me down and tried to sit up, groaning.

  “Move, everyone! Let me through!” she ordered, and everyone moved aside. “Megan, what happened?”

  I took one look at my hand and realized that it was real: the stairs, the creepy guy and girl, the blood… “I’m fine,” I snarled, feeling around for my shades. “I fell coming up the stairs, that’s all. I split my hand on the shelf over there.” I gestured to the wall.

  Their silence alerted me. I looked up after I put my shades on.

  “What stairs?” she asked.

  “The ones through the doorway behind those shelves. You know, over there.”

  They all looked awkwardly at each other, then back down at me. “Maybe it’s a concussion?” Dawn suggested.

  Ian just shrugged his shoulders.

  “Just ask Geoffrey! He helped me up the stairs—along with the girl from the band.”

  “And where did you see him again?” Ash asked, helping me stand.

  “Down the stairs, at the lower bar.” Why was she asking these stupid questions?

  “You met Geoffrey… downstairs?” she repeated back to me again.

  “Yeah, like I said.” I tightened the bar towel on my hand.

  “Honey, let’s get that head and hand checked out,” she said. The others started whispering.

  “What?” I barked as some of the stragglers left us.

  “Meg, there’s no downstairs, no lower level bar,” she said quietly.

  “Yes there is. What are you talking about? You built this place…”

  “Yes, a fact I’m well aware of. And Geoffrey is out front with the DJ—and has been for a while now, spinning and mixing.”

  “Uh…. no. He was downstairs. He helped me up here. I hit my head.” The goose egg was growing larger by the minute. I glanced out to the hallway where people were passing by. I noticed the girl from the band again and pointed.

  “Just ask her! She was with him.” I held onto the doorway, trying to regain my balance.

  “Hey, Pepper,” Ashleigh called out.

  The girl turned. “Oh, hi Ash. Great opening!” She came over and gave her a hug. An exotic looking woman—tall, dark-skinned, and full-figured—followed close behind.

  “Yeah it is. Hey, were you just with Geoffrey?”

  “Nope, Tracy and I grabbed a couple of your free drinks, hope you don’t mind,” she said, looking back at her friend, who was downing the last of her drink. “They’re de-li-cious!”

  “No, of course not,” Ash said. “I’ll catch up with guys in a moment.” As they walked away, I thought I heard a Jamaican or islander accent from Tracy.

  “Ash, I don’t know why she’s lying. She helped me—she got me this towel, for Christ sake.”

  “Meg, calm down! You know what? It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get that hand taken care of, all right?”

  I was beyond talking at this point, so I followed her to the break room, where she broke open the brand-new first aid box and rushed into it, digging around frantically. “There has to be a bandage somewhere in this mess.”

  “Here, give it to me. I can do this in my sleep.” I flipped through the stack and pulled out the butterfly strips, then opened my hand. Luckily only one stitch had popped.

  “I got this, Ash. Go back to doing whatever you were doing. I’m so sorry… about everything. You know I’m a klutz.”

  “That’s normal for you. But what’s not is you hallucinating.” She pecked my cheek, shaking her head. “Besides, I’m not going anywhere. I wanted to introduce you to the band… and my partner.”

  “God, right now?” She did her best pouty face and I caved. “Fine, hang on. Just let me wipe this clean.”

  I finished up as quickly as possible and she led me to the band’s dressing room. She introduced me to each band member, and I hoped that she wasn’t going to quiz me on names anytime soon. My head was killing me and my hand was throbbing, though I knew from experience that part of my headache was the sheer stress of being forced to meet people.

  I stepped away to the side to grab a Coke from the caterer’s table, wondering if it was time to call it a night and head home, when I saw him. I watched him part the crowd of groupies, they all took a step back, clearing a path for him. He was naked from the waist up and was towel drying his shoulder-length hair as he walked. Sweat still clung to his lean but muscular torso, accentuating his abs and pelvis above his low-cut jeans. He waved off several girls who were trying to get his attention, zeroing in on Ashleigh, who had just stepped beside me to grab a glass of champagne off the table.

  Or maybe it wasn’t Ash he was looking at. His eyes locked on mine, and by the way he was coming towards us I suddenly felt like I was a target. It took some effort to break away from the stare down we were having.

  “Ash—it’s great to see you,” he said,
hugging her as they exchanged air kisses. I stood there quietly, tapping my foot nervously and trying not to act interested. I couldn’t help but notice the way he moved, very smoothly and politely… and a little arrogantly.

  “Geoffrey! That was a smashing set, all the way around,” she said, handing him a glass of champagne. “I think we can easily say tonight has been a success!” She tipped her glass in a toast with his, and then she turned to me. “Megan, may I introduce you to Geoffrey Drake, lead singer extraordinaire—and my partner in The Stage.”

  He extended his hand as I did my best to keep my mouth from dropping open. Oh my God, he’s her partner? No wonder she was able to sign The Darkness. I adjusted my shades and gingerly took his offered hand.

  “Megan, is it?” he said.

  “Yes. It’s nice to meet you, Geoffrey.” Then I immediately clammed up, trying hard not to stare at his body while convincing myself that I wasn’t interested in him at all.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Ashleigh has spoken a lot about you.” The heady scent of his sweat was making me feel a bit fuzzy in the brain, as though I hit my head somewhere. Oh yeah, I guess I did just hit my head…

  “Has she? I can’t imagine why,” I said, now feeling slightly annoyed. Who did this guy think he was? All that and a bag of chips, I suppose. Sure, he had a great voice, rockin’ body, dreamy eyes—if you’re into that sort of thing—but I’m not, I had to remind myself. I took another swig of Coke, and looked away from him.

  Then I thought I heard him say something like, She’s back to her feisty self. This will be a challenge.

  I looked directly back at him. “What’s going to be a challenge?” I asked, somewhat confused.

  He raised his eyebrows, and a look of surprise crossed his face.

  “Megan, what are you doing?” Ashleigh whispered.

  “He said something, didn’t you hear—?” Uh, oh. She had that look again, like I was off my rockers. Great, I must be hearing voices again… which means I was totally embarrassing Ash in front of her partner. I needed to smooth things over. “Sorry, guys. I’m just feeling a bit loopy from that fall in the storeroom. I think I should go home now. It was nice meeting you, Geoffrey. The music was great, seriously. Ash, I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. Good night.”

  I tried to slip by as gracefully as possible, but I felt his fingers touch my arm. “If you’re not feeling well, perhaps I should offer you a ride home?” His voice had lost all its initial bravado, and was now replaced with kind concern.

  Ashleigh looked positively giddy at his offer, so I quickly flashed her a “no way” look with my eyes. Then she did the unthinkable. “What a great idea, Geoffrey. She’d love that!” Then she hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Just give him a chance. He really is charming.”

  I was too tired to argue and besides, I’d shot down so many of the prince charmings that she tried to steer my way that maybe just this once I could make an effort. “Sure. I’ll wait out front,” I mumbled, then tacked on a hasty “Thanks,” remembering to be polite. I said my goodbyes to the others as I made my way outside, contemplating getting into a car with a total stranger—who could turn out to be a psychotic sociopath. What’s next, the bogey man will be waiting for me at home?

  Let’s pretend I didn’t think that.

  Chapter 5

  My dreams kept nagging me. Maybe it was because my headache wouldn’t leave, but all night long images of Geoffrey Drake kept creeping into my collapsing cave nightmares. I hadn’t had them for a while and thought I’d beaten them. How could he be a part of the dreams? He couldn’t have been there; I was just past being a toddler when I got trapped in the collapsed cave.

  My dreams were jumbled, pictures here and there of Geoffrey, me, Ashleigh, and my childhood home. If I opened my eyes now I’d see the small hillside entrance that I went into many years ago. I’d been climbing trees and exploring our property when I discovered the cave near the creek. Even at high noon, it was dark as midnight inside. I was curious to find what treasures it might hold.

  Back then I wasn’t scared of the forest or dark places. I wandered around inside the cave with my little flashlight, exploring. When I went to make my way out, I heard the floor moan. I froze in my tracks as the floor caved in, dropping me down to a sub-tunnel. Dust swirled around and dirt and rocks covered me from my waist down. I immediately started screaming and trying to free myself. Between my tears and the dirt, my face was covered in mud.

  I struggled for a while and realized I could see outside. The sun was getting low; the treetops were no longer bright green. The cave was a good distance from home. No one came, not my mom or neighbors, plus I knew the step-jerk was sure to be pissed at my wandering away. With the cool evening came hunger. I sat still as best I could, wrapping my arms around me to stay warm. Then a sound came from outside, a low voice I couldn’t make out.

  I hollered as loud as I could again and again, “Please help, I’m stuck, help!”

  Then the digging came, faster and faster. At first I thought a group of people had found me, but when the dirt was finally pushed aside I saw a man I didn’t recognize. I remember his eyes—the bright blue eyes in the twilight. His cool hands reached me, easily lifting me out. He held me close, carrying me through the darkened forest quickly. Then he stopped and placed me down near our path…

  I sat straight up with a gasp, my eyes wide open in the dim light. The eyes… the cool hands… Geoffrey! How the hell? How could he have been… there’s no way. I must have totally made it up, my imagination running wild.

  My head hurt like I’d had one too many beers, except that I hadn’t drunk anything. I pulled my knees up, putting my forehead in my hands. Breathe, Meg. In, out.

  My bed looked like a bomb had gone off. Making my way to the bathroom, I turned on the light. Ugh. My hair looked like a haystack, standing in different directions; huge circles were under my eyes. I looked like death warmed over. Splashing cold water on my face and brushing my teeth did little to help. I made my way out to the living room, now very aware that the sun was on the wrong side of the sky. The clock screamed four p.m. in bright red numbers. I opened the balcony doors, hoping the fresh air would do the trick. And it did—whipping through my hair, sending shivers through me. My eyes felt sore but awake.

  My mind kicked into high gear as I walked back in. Clothes. Yeah, go get dressed. Food. It would have to wait; I had more pressing thoughts to deal with. With my hair thrown into a ponytail, I grabbed my shoes and keys and headed toward the door. I reached the counter and saw a small, white note waiting for me, taped to the back of the front door:

  Megan,

  Please wait for me.

  -G

  He had only dropped me off downstairs—and I hadn’t told him my apartment number. Did I let him in? Man, I was losing it. I couldn’t remember clearly. Well, I must have invited him, right? How else could he have left the note here? It’s not like he could climb in through the balcony on the fourth floor, right?

  I debated what to do; should I sit here and wait? My brain was telling me to go—I had questions that demanded answers, and my laptop had crashed two weeks ago. My watch said four-thirty; only half an hour until the main library closed. I would need to run and catch the bus headed up the hill. I shut and locked the door and ran to the elevator, which seemed to take forever to get down to the main floor. As soon as the doors opened, I bolted out the front entrance, running to catch the bus.

  The bus stopped right in front of the library’s main entrance. I ran up the steps, barely noticing the people coming out.

  “Can you tell me where the computers are?” I asked the girl behind the counter, short of breath.

  “Over to the right, down aisle two,” she replied, pointing.

  I quickly found an unoccupied computer desk and brought up Google, typing in “Geoffrey Drake.” Multiple sites came up: singer, songwriter, video
sites. I chose one, hoping to find my answers, and I searched under the archives to find a date of birth, home town—your basic info.

  I wasn’t interested in his favorite color or the video galleries. I dug deeper, trying to find out something about his family history or where he grew up; anything to make the puzzle pieces fit in my brain. His birthday was October thirty-first, making him a Halloween baby, and he was supposedly thirty years old. Yet the Geoffrey from my cave dreams looked very much as he appeared today; his hair, eyes, and build were all the same. His place of birth was New Orleans, Louisiana, but his parents had passed away when he was very young, leaving him to be raised by an aunt. The article didn’t mention her name; he seemed to be an only child with few relatives.

  The lights dimmed and the overhead speaker announced that the library would be closing in five minutes. I sent as much as I could to the printer at the end of the row. Before I logged out, I frantically searched the website for a phone number, and scribbled down the only 1-800 number I could find. I scooped up my small volume of papers and thanked the attendant on my way out.

  Once I got outside, I sat down on the steps and pulled out the pages to read more. There was just no way that he could be the same man who saved me in the cave all those years ago—unless he had had some serious plastic surgery. The more I read, the more questions came up. His parents passed away during a house fire, one article said. Their names were Geoffrey Sr. and Samantha Drake. Evidently his father had been a musician as well, and his mother was a backup singer and piano player for their band, which was called Gabriel’s Wings.

  There was an old photo of the group which, though faded, clearly showed off their lead singer. Geoffrey and his father could have been twins. Their hairstyles were different, but their faces were very similar, with close-set eyes, a long, slender nose, and identical smiles. The woman standing next to his father must have been his mother, ­Samantha, but the picture was in such poor condition that I could only make out that she had lovely long hair and was just as tall as his father. Who were these people? What happened to them? Interesting that Geoffrey looked so very much like his father.