by HJ Welch
Raiden felt sick. He swallowed the shame that rose inside him. “Photos?” he repeated. “…private photos?”
Eric was professional enough that he didn’t look embarrassed. “I’m afraid so. See for yourself.”
Raiden’s mom squeezed his hand again, then released him so he could check out the website with his own eyes. This was really bad. “We’re not judging you,” she said firmly. “You were in a long-distance relationship.”
But Raiden felt faint. “Can’t…can’t we take the website down?”
Eric rolled his eyes. “These assholes are good – sorry, excuse my language, Kima.”
Raiden’s mom snorted. “They are assholes,” she said with vehemence. “So what? They’re stopping anybody from getting rid of the site?”
“For now,” said Eric. “Obviously everybody affected probably has a team working on this, and the police are already involved. But every minute the information stays up and public, the more people can copy it to use however they want.”
Raiden had suffered his fair share of online hate as part of Below Zero. Internet trolls certainly hated boy bands and anything they construed as being remotely effeminate. But this was decidedly worse.
“They’ve got Nara’s address, too,” Raiden said, talking about his older sister and her husband. He opened the top email chain. “Oh no,” he said.
He probably sent thousands of emails every year. And yet, somehow, these dicks had managed to find this thread among all the others.
He’d forgotten he’d even written this. But, evidently, he and his friend Joey had got drunk one evening and gone on a rant about the appalling state of the music industry. They’d ravaged several artists and dragged them for having no talent, obviously thinking no one would ever, ever see their words.
Most of the singers were clients of Raiden’s.
“Fuck,” he said.
In his defense, the artists he’d been infuriated with at the time were not nice people. Shallow, petty, demanding divas, the lot of them. But Raiden was supposed to maintain a professional relationship with them regardless of his personal feelings.
“We’ll fix this,” his dad insisted from across the other side of the desk. “Raiden, you’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I have, though,” he said numbly.
He had left his phone upstairs when he’d gone on his run, so he used his dad’s computer to check on his social media accounts.
It was already looking very bleak, but there was no sense putting it off.
Fans of the people he and Joey had insulted were already up in arms. Poor Joey. Raiden really wished he hadn’t been dragged into this, too. But at least Raiden was taking the brunt of the fury.
The artists themselves were calling him out on Twitter – quite rightly calling him a nobody and a has-been. Saying they would never work with him again. A quick glance at his work emails confirmed as much from the producers, agents and managers already contacting him.
“This is awful,” Raiden’s mom said, reading over his shoulder.
He should have shielded her from it. “People always say terrible things from the safety of their keyboards,” he said, trying to convince her as well as himself. “I’m sure it’s nothing really to worry about.”
His mom raised an eyebrow at him, then pointed to one of the tweets further down the page.
I know where U fukcing live now U prick I’m going to kill U and UR whole family itll do the world a favor. What do U think about that, U smug cock?!??
“Okay,” said Raiden. “That might be something to worry about.”
2
Levi
Levi leaned against the bar and surveyed his surroundings. His senses were on overload and he knew he probably shouldn’t drink much more. But his buddies kept buying the beers, so he kept knocking them back.
After so many months away from civilization, finding himself in a city was a little much. Not that he couldn’t take it, but it was hard to switch his brain off.
Stuttgart was a far cry from Baghdad or Qaim, but that was a good thing. Even though Levi had been counting the days until he started his journey home, it had still come as a shock to arrive at the German military base. He and the guys had wanted to make the most of their brief time in Europe before going their separate ways back in the U.S., so he shook himself and clinked his bottle with the four or five men who offered theirs up.
“Prost!” he cried.
“Prost!” they shouted back.
They were good guys. He’d been proud to serve with them, and part of him did feel a pang that he was leaving all this behind. But it was time to hang up his dog tags, of that much he was certain.
“Sergeant Patterson!” One of the lance corporals, a young guy named Brad, elbowed his way to the bar to squeeze next to Levi. “You too good to buy me a beer now?” he asked with a grin.
Levi rolled his eyes and handed him a bottle. “Like I’d ever hear the end of it,” he groused. But it was all in jest. Brad was a good kid.
“Ain’t you gonna miss all this?” he asked Levi, sincerely.
Levi snorted into his beer. “They have bars back in Kentucky, man,” he said with a chuckle.
“Yeah, Serge,” said Brad, “but don’t you live in Buttfuck, Nowhere?”
Levi nudged him with his shoulder, which, considering how big his arms were, almost sent Brad’s beer flying. “I’m not your sergeant anymore,” Levi said good-naturedly. “And if you think for one minute I’m staying put in Buttfuck, you’re sorely mistaken.”
He’d promised himself a little while to get settled in Williams Pike once he got back. His mom would appreciate having him around. But he was sure he’d soon relocate to Lexington or somewhere else more metropolitan.
Home had too many memories. He didn’t want to come face to face with one every corner he turned.
Levi stood with Brad for a few moments, just watching the busy bar. It was a traditional sort of place, all wooden finishes and wine-red leather on the seats. The wall behind the counter was entirely covered with an impressive amount of spirits. Levi had to admit, the Germans did know how to drink.
He’d gotten used to the lack of niceties while on tour. When canned ravioli was seen as a rare delicacy, you didn’t miss pizza and beer. But Levi had to admit it was good to indulge now they were out of the desert.
People here had no idea how lucky they were. Levi didn’t blame them. In his experience, once you showed an average Joe the kind of extravagance he was living in compared to the likes of the Iraqi people, they got humble pretty damn fast. But, on the day to day, they had their own struggles to occupy their minds. Never once considering they might lose it all in an instant.
Levi shook his head. He was one of those average Joes now. At almost thirty, he could finally start living his life, maybe even enjoy it a little.
He just wasn’t sure how to do that exactly.
When you were a Marine, you went where you were told and followed orders, night and day. Ever since high school, Levi had thrived on routine. Whether it was on the football field or from his drill sergeant, he always knew his place in the world.
Now…
He took several gulps of his beer. Now was not the time for thinking. He’d made up his mind, and once he made a decision, he damn well went through with it.
“Seriously, though, Serge,” said Brad. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You sure you won’t change your mind, come back for another tour?”
Brad was so young – he wouldn’t even technically be allowed to drink at a bar back home, but Europe’s laws on alcohol were less stringent. Yet here he was, already a veteran of war. He still had that fire, that spark in his eyes. He was out to save the world.
Levi had done his share in saving the world. It turned out, the world was a more complicated place than he’d thought when he was Brad’s age.
He clapped the younger guy on his back. “Gotta leave some bad guys for you to get, buddy.”
“Hell
yeah,” Brad agreed enthusiastically. He sipped from his bottle again. “So, private security, huh?”
Levi shrugged. “For now,” was all he said.
The truth was, he hadn’t had a clue what he was going to do once he decided to get out of the Marines. What his uncle had done when he’d left the corps was set up his own private security firm back home. He had quite the business now, and a spot was open to Levi if he wanted it.
He wasn’t entirely sure he did, but it was something to do in the meantime. Better than resting on his laurels. He was young and healthy. He still had plenty of options open to him. Working for his uncle would just mean he kept a steady paycheck for now. He could change his mind any time.
Some of the other guys weaved their way back to the bar, calling for a round of shots. Levi reckoned, what the hell? He might not ever see any of them again, other than on Facebook.
“It’s on me, boys,” he said to a chorus of cheers. He flashed his credit card at the pretty bartender. She licked her lips and came to Levi next despite there being other people waiting. It would be so easy to skip the line, but Levi’s mom had raised him better than that.
“I believe these guys were next,” he said, pointing to the group that had indeed been waiting.
They thanked him graciously in good English. Levi was always amazed by people that could speak another language.
His guys might have been pissed if they’d noticed him sending the bartender on before serving them, but they were so distracted by all the tail in front of them they could hardly concentrate on anything. Levi chuckled, sympathizing. He was fully intending on finding a hot chick to hook up with later that night.
The men in his unit had commented several times that European girls, especially Germans, were often up for anything. Levi wasn’t sure that was much more than wishful thinking after months on end with only their hands for company. But all Levi really craved was a bit of human contact.
He licked his lips and turned away as Brad began chatting up a girl slightly older than him with great tits and short, choppy hair. She had a look in her eyes that made Levi think she’d eat Brad alive. Levi got the feeling he’d love every minute of it.
Just human contact, that was all it was. Lips on skin, hands between legs. It didn’t necessarily matter who.
Which was why he purposefully didn’t seek out Gunnery Sergeant Collins. He was there, somewhere in the bar. Or maybe he’d left already to find somewhere more suited to his tastes.
Collins was a good guy. Great at his job. Reliable.
He also had a mouth made for sin.
Levi readjusted himself and focused on catching the bartender’s attention again once she’d finished with the group of locals.
A man could be forgiven for a lot of things out in the desert. Collins wasn’t exactly out, but most people knew which way he swung when it came to sexual preferences. He was a big enough guy and lethal enough shot that most men knew not to fuck with him, though. Except if you actually wanted to fuck with him.
There was nothing wrong with accepting a blow job from someone eager to give it. Obviously, Levi had made sure it stayed strictly between the two of them. No one needed to know their sergeant liked to get head off other guys. That kind of thing could mess with the order of things if you let it.
That didn’t mean Levi was ashamed or thought any less of Collins. He just liked to keep certain things private. That was his right, after all.
What he needed was a nice girl to take his mind off things. It had always been the same with Collins. A quick blow job while Collins jerked himself off. They both left happy, and there wasn’t much talking involved. Certainly no kissing. Levi knew what he needed now was a warm body he could touch all over.
Levi got him and the guys Jägermeister, seeing as they were in Germany. He got one for the bartender too. “What time do you get off?” he asked her, shouting over the noise of the crowd and the music.
She looked him up and down. “About fifteen minutes after my shift ends, I hope.” She quirked an eyebrow suggestively.
It took him a second to realize what she’d said, then he laughed. “I’m Levi.”
“I don’t care, soldier boy,” she said with a wink. “See you later?”
He grinned and picked up the beer he’d got with his shot. “I’m sure as hell not going anywhere,” he told her.
Perfect. Now he could enjoy the rest of his night. This was just what he needed to get him back on track.
In a few days, he’d be back on American soil, preparing to face the rest of his life. But for right now, he could just kick back and enjoy the minivacation he’d earned himself. The rest of his life could wait.
3
Raiden
Raiden sat in his studio, alone.
It was a beautiful room with a large window behind the mixing desk that looked into the currently empty recording space. It had been empty for a couple of weeks now.
Raiden had the mood lighting on to try and get himself in the zone. The pinewood finish on the floor and walls was bathed in blues and purples that normally inspired creativity. But today was just leaving him feeling like the only one left at a nightclub when the house lights came back up. It was depressing, so he gave up and flicked the regular recessed lights back on.
He rubbed his chin and sighed. If he couldn’t find his happy place down here, he was pretty screwed.
It had come as a surprise to almost everyone just over two years ago when Below Zero had been dropped by their record label. Raiden had loved being a part of the band, but as sad as he was to see that end, he had known it was the perfect gateway for him into the music industry. His true passion had always laid with making melodies, not just singing them.
His dad had helped him invest his savings into transforming the basement area of the farmhouse into the studio he now worked in. Despite his increasing frustrations with the kind of tracks he had been working on, it was still his sanctuary.
Even now he had nothing to work on.
That wasn’t quite true. Not all of his clients had pulled their business away from him. Just the most high-profile ones.
Amid the avalanche of hate mail he’d received in the week since the hack, he had also got many messages of support from people who agreed with his opinions. There were people who had hailed him as a trailblazer, agreeing that the cycle of covers and samples that flooded the radio stations these days needed to be pushed aside in favor of new material.
The trouble was, there were ten times as many people who only needed the barest of excuses to terrorize him, and thanks to that goddamned website, there was no longer anywhere he could hide.
Of course he wasn’t the only person to get affected by the hack. Far from it. But since he’d been out of the limelight for so long, he’d gotten used to a certain amount of anonymity.
It was insane the levels some people could take their hatred of a person they had never met. Whose only ‘crime’ was to sing songs you didn’t like, or to look in a way you thought was unmanly, or heaven forbid to have an opinion about anything slightly political or social.
At the height of Below Zero’s popularity, Raiden and the other guys had sadly got accustomed to daily death threats. But now they were being mailed to his house.
And Raiden didn’t even have work to distract him from this gigantic fuck-up. Any projects he’d managed to cling on to he had whizzed through already in his need to keep his mind off the hack. Now, all he had was time to think about his lack of prospects.
For the first few days, he had been worried sick over his and his family’s safety. His sister had already handed in her notice on her lease. She and her husband were both lawyers, so they were more than prepared to break their contract and move immediately to protect their location for their clients’ sake as much as their own.
But Raiden’s parents couldn’t do that. Apple Blossom Farm was their business as well as their home. They owned fifty acres and weren’t about to up and sell, even with all these threa
ts.
As soon as the website finally got taken down, though, Raiden was immensely relieved that the intimidations began to taper off. He didn’t care who said what on Twitter or Instagram, he could always block obnoxious people there. His dad had contracted the IT company that Eric’s law firm used. Apparently, they had some expert programmer who was already scrubbing the internet for any of the files that had been leaked from Raiden’s computer and phone as well as any trace of his address. In fact, he was in a meeting with Raiden’s dad and Eric now.
Raiden had offered to help, but he had no technical expertise when it came to computer programing whatsoever. He knew every in and out of the software he used for mixing music, but anything beyond basic HTML code was out of his grasp. He’d just felt in the way, causing even more problems than he already had.
So he’d disappeared to his sanctuary. He told himself he now had the freedom to work on whatever he wanted. Without the pressure of churning out a mediocre pop song every couple of days, maybe he could finally start working on one of those epic rock ballads he’d always promised himself he’d write. His finances were okay enough that he could take the loss of income for a while.
Except, of course, now was the time his inspiration had totally deserted him. He sat at his mixing desk, idly pushing sliders, not doing anything much.
This was his own fault. He’d been mad at his lot in life, and karma had swooped in and kicked his ungrateful ass.
The only silver lining that he could see right now was that he’d been able to keep the focus on him. He’d done everything he could to shift the attention from Joey, his former bandmate and close friend, as well as any of his ex-girlfriends caught up in the leak. This mess was of his making, and as long as he could take the majority of the fallout, he felt slightly less shitty about the whole thing.
