The Experiment

by Holly Hart

  “I get that.” Carbon might be a nowhere place, but it was my nowhere place, till Wayne came along. I smile, remembering when Maidenfang was still Sunny Days, recording out of Jed’s room when his mom wasn’t home.

  Brandon steals another kiss, on the tip of my ear this time. “It’s been in my head again—that song. That feeling.” He lets his chin rest on my head. “Probably because March in Texas feels a lot like August in Toronto. And because this is the first time since then I’ve had nothing to do.”

  And because what we’re doing here—what we’re allowing ourselves—can’t last?

  I turn my head to catch his lips, anyway. No use pretending. We’ve already crossed the line. He cradles my head as we exchange lazy kisses. His other hand curls around my wrist, warm and possessive. The callused pad of his thumb traces circles there. I relax into it, the sun-warmed smell of his skin, the slight dryness of his lips, the water lapping at the prow.

  “Want to explore the city after this?” he says when we finally break apart.

  “Yeah.” I’m in no hurry to get back.

  “We could do karaoke. Or get tattoos.”

  “Too public; too...permanent.” I kiss him again: it’s addictive. “How about we eat and wander? Go see that bridge with the bats on it?”

  “That’s real?”

  “We’ll find out.” I snuggle closer, not wanting to move just yet. Feels like our own little haven out here, far from shore, far from everything. If the water rocked me to sleep, if I let myself dream for a while, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Been a while since I felt this comfortable.

  Chapter Ten

  Brandon

  Not sure if it’s the exercise, the company, or some combination of the two, but I’m feeling almost human again. My foot’s killing me, and my arm aches from shoulder to wrist, but the stiffness in my knees is almost gone. And my stomach stopped churning hours ago. Think it’s the fresh air. Lily seems content to keep to the bike paths along the river, avoiding the noise and exhaust of the city.

  It’s getting cool, with the sun going down. I have no idea where we are. We’re straying farther and farther from the hotel, but if Lily’s not going to say anything, neither am I. I’m not in any rush to end our adventure.

  Her hand slips into mine, soft and a little chilly. There’s a forested area ahead, menacing in the dusk. Feels like we’re running off together—into the woods and the wild. Like a fairy tale. Almost makes up for having to be Brandon Lee for the foreseeable future. Of all the names I could’ve picked...fucking Lee! That’s what I get for lying.

  “What time is it?”

  “Hm?” I glance at my watch. “Eightish.”

  “Oh...I’m already in trouble.” She doesn’t sound that concerned. Still....

  “You have a curfew?”

  “Just on work nights. Home by eight.” She looks away. I follow her gaze past the trees, past the lights of the city, to the moon hanging overhead. “It’s not like it sounds. Wayne’s been my manager since I was sixteen. Some things just...never got around to changing.”

  “How old are you now?”

  “Rude!” She elbows me, but she’s laughing. “Twenty-eight. I know. It’s pathetic. I should stand up for myself. Tell him where to stick it.”

  That’s not what I was thinking. “Looks like he makes it pretty hard.”

  “He....” Lily turns abruptly, looking straight ahead. “Let’s not talk about him.” She gestures at the river, the trees. “Look how gorgeous it is: clear skies, spring bursting into bloom, people out on the water—it’s been a perfect day. A perfect evening. How many of those do you get?”

  “Not nearly enough.” That song must’ve jumped from my head to hers: I know that line. Green grass fragrance; sunlit earth. Ice cream cones on bright sky days—how many of these do we get?

  This feels dangerous. I’m drowning in nostalgia and attraction and the thrill of having survived my own death. I reach for her anyway, pulling her off-balance. She half-falls against my chest, palms out to catch herself.

  “Wha—?”

  I kiss her again, hard and deep this time. Her hand wanders to my shoulder, digging into the raw flesh, but that only makes me want her more. Not the pain, but her eagerness—the way she’s dragging me in, clutching at my tie, my waist, my hair, like she doesn’t know what she wants first. Her leg has slid between mine, hip grinding subtly against my cock.

  I bite back a satisfied sigh, not that she can’t feel how readily I’m responding to her. It’s almost too much, knowing I can’t have more—not here, not now; not till I’m properly healed. I indulge anyway, nibbling her lip, her ear, leaning into the friction of her body against mine. I can feel all of it: her belt-buckle digging into my hip, strands of soft hair whipping my cheek as the wind picks up, lips seeking skin.

  She’s the one who pulls back, if only far enough to murmur in my ear, “What are we doing?”

  “Stealing a moment. On a moonlit night.”

  “Mm....” Lily melts against me, kissing my chest through my shirt, sucking at my nipple. I feel her teeth for an instant, dragging over the sensitive skin. The sensation goes straight to my groin. I can’t hold back a moan this time. She’s clever with her hands, the way she’s threading her fingers through my hair, gliding her palms down my back, grabbing my ass to trap me against her. “Oh, what I wouldn’t do....”

  “What—what would you do?” It’s too far, but I have to know. Have to hear her say it.

  “Anything. Everything. Ride you like a bull. Lick and suck every part of you. Kneel for you...beg for you.”

  My knees go weak. Beg for me? Chained and collared, on her knees, bright red lipstick smeared over her chin? Hair already clinging to her face, mouth open for my cock? “Oh....”

  A party boat chugs around a bend in the river, lights flooding over us. Lily steps back, pulling down her shirt where I’d rucked it up over her waist. She laughs, soft and kind of nervous. “Not here, of course.”

  “Of course.” I turn away from the river, untucking my own shirt to hide the bulge in my pants. Should’ve worn tighter shorts.

  “I don’t usually... I mean, it’s been a while.” Lily’s smoothing down her hair. “That’s why I’m so—”

  “Horny?”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Excuse me—ragingly horny?”

  She smacks my arm—not the sore one. “Fine. Horny. But don’t act like you’re not.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She looks at the moon, and back at me. A slight frown wrinkles her brow. “I should get back. Wayne’s been all over me, since...since the other night.”

  Since I cut him down to size. Damn. “If I’ve made your life harder—”

  Two fingertips light on my lips. “Shh. You haven’t. Wayne’s a fragile little man—ego-wise, at least. You’re just...the latest in a long, long chain of imagined slights. And, hey!—I didn’t get slapped this time.”

  This time.... I frown, not liking what I’m hearing. Twelve years she’s been dealing with this jagoff. Who knows what she’s been through?

  “Anyway, we shouldn’t walk in together. Shouldn’t arrive together, in case....” She looks away. “Would you mind if I took my own cab? I wouldn’t ask, but....”

  “No—no. Of course. Whatever you need.”

  Lily leans on my arm as we wend our way to the road. It doesn’t seem fair, all this cloak and dagger, just for a date. Maybe it’s none of my business, but there’s got to be something I can do. Something that won’t cost Lily her job.

  I kiss her goodnight at the curbside. Her hand dips into my pocket. When I stick my own in there, watching her cab pull away, I find a daisy. I turn it over in my hand, thinking of summer again.

  Playing Brandon Lee, traveling engineer, doesn’t exactly feel right, but at least for the moment, it’s easier than being Brandon Shaw. Reality hasn’t been great lately. And this way, I can be sure it’s me she wants. Not my money. Not my lifestyle. Can’t g
o down that road again. Especially not now.

  I tuck her daisy into my buttonhole and flag down a cab of my own.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lily

  “Miss Walker?”

  I stop in my tracks. The desk clerk’s beckoning me over.

  “Yes?”

  “Message for you.” She hands me a sealed envelope, addressed with my name and room number.

  “Who left this?”

  “Not sure, ma’am—that was on the morning shift.”

  “Thanks.” I head for the elevator, already tearing into the envelope. Inside, there’s a torn and folded scrap of notebook paper: Laser tag, 6:00? —B

  There’s an address underneath. A slow smile steals over my face. Blasting my enemies sounds good, even if it is just with light.

  Wayne oozes up behind me—where he was hiding, I don’t know. “What you got there?”

  I jam the envelope in my pocket. “Note from Jed. He’s taking Adina to Laredo.”

  “Well, hell, you knew that.” He slings an arm over my shoulders. “Let’s get some dinner. Wanna talk to you about the new album. I was thinkin’ we’d go harder-edged. Less of that opera crap; more shredding. Wanna hear that guitar shriek.”

  “Less opera; right.” We had one opera sample on our last album: Don Giovanni’s death scream, against a backdrop of wailing bass. Doesn’t get much more hardcore than that.

  “And with the lyrics, I’m gonna need more, uh... Gonna need you to listen to some Cannibal Corpse, work from there. Less sunshine, more tearin’ flesh.”

  “Did you listen to Ghastly yet? I thought—”

  “Sure, but for every Ghastly, you got three Brightskies. That needs to skew the other way. And then—hey! You listening?”

  Nope. “Yeah, but, actually—” I check my watch. Five thirty already. “I got someplace to be. Could we do this tomorrow? While I’m getting my hair done? I’ll bring my notebook.”

  “Where’ve you got to be?”

  “A cannibal orgy.” I step away quick, ducking his arm. I’ll pay for that crack tomorrow, but it’s worth it to leave him stewing. This last tour’s brought out the worst in him. We’ve been playing our biggest venues yet, packed houses every night, but all he can do is grouse. Life would be so close to perfect, without him.

  He bursts through the doors as my cab pulls away, watching me go with thunder in his eyes. I turn my head away, determined to banish him from my thoughts. By the time we arrive, I’m in a damn good mood. The sight of Brandon only makes it better. He still hasn’t ditched the suits—not that I thought he would. They’re far too well-tailored to have been made for anyone but him. He spots me and waves.

  “Hey! Wasn’t sure you’d get my note in time.”

  “Just made it under the wire.” I lean in for a kiss. “Sure you’re up for this?”

  “It’s been a week. I’m fine.” He offers his arm and we head inside. “You know, this is a first for me.”

  “Oh? Think you got it in you to shoot me dead?”

  “Not if you shoot me first.”

  I fully intend to.

  The music gets under my skin straight out of the gate, a hard, driving beat that thumps in time with the strobes. I can’t get my bearings: the air’s thick with light and sound and—fucking hell—billowing smoke, dazzling all my senses. I dive for cover, folding in small to avoid what might be laser fire or ambient lighting.

  The place is laid out like a maze, full of ramps and bridges, screens and obstacles. I need to get to high ground, snipe ‘em off from above. Brandon’s way ahead of me: I spot him sidling along the wall, angling his body to protect his target from enemy fire. He whips around a corner, drops to one knee, and squeezes off two shots, taking out a guy in red jeans and a woman in white.

  “Hey! There’s one hiding down here!”

  Laser fire cuts through the smoke, missing my target by a hair. I dive, roll, and scurry low, taking potshots over my shoulder. Brandon’s hanging off a neon purple ladder, trading fire with a man on the ground. He swings out of range, catches his elbow on the wall, and drops back down.

  I’ve got his back. “Over here!”

  “Huh?” The man spins my way. I take him out easy, and Brandon vaults onto the bridge, knocking off two kids coming up the other side. I follow him up: this is our bridge now.

  “You and me, back to back at the end of the world?” Brandon drops to a crouch as a red bolt burns through the fog.

  “At least till we crush the rest of them.”

  “You guard that ladder: I’ll take this one.”

  I peek over the edge. Someone’s hiding under the catwalk. I can see his shoe sticking out, a bright white sneaker with neon laces. I shoot at it. Its owner yelps and jumps back—but not far enough for Brandon to pick him off on the other side.

  Maybe I can bait him out. “What are you, a troll hiding under the bridge? Come up here and fight me!”

  “What are you, queen of the castle? You come down.” His shoe’s poking out again. His elbow, too. I hang my arm down and open fire, shooting wildly under the bridge.

  “Missed me.” A pause. “Now you gotta kiss me.”

  “Troll! I knew it!”

  Bolts pepper the ceiling. Brandon’s laughing his ass off, strafing along the railing. A target lights up on the opposite bridge. “Need me to take him out for you?”

  Hell, no. “This one’s all mine.” I swing myself over the side, balancing on the ladder. I can hear the troll under there, breathing hard. Lining up his shot. He’s over by the central column, sheltering behind it. Waiting for me to lower myself into range. Screw that. I push off and jump down, bending at the waist to shield my target.

  “Fuck!” He swings around the column, keeping the concrete between me and him. I rush in quiet and flatten myself to the other side. He’s shuffling my way, firing into the fog. Trying to figure out where I am. I hold my breath. A few steps more, we’ll be rubbing elbows.

  He squeezes off a shot. The smoke lights up green. “I know you’re out there! Where you hiding?”

  Here. Right here.

  “C’mon. Play fair.”

  One more step....

  He’s not moving. Peering into the shadows. I can’t hold my breath much longer. The instant I twitch, the instant I breathe....

  “All right, I’m—” His shiny white sneaker bumps mine.

  I push off the column, pivot hard, and shoot him point-blank. His pack powers down—and he never even got to aim. Victory! I flee his colorful outrage, clambering back up the ladder.

  Brandon offers his hand, helping me up. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

  I narrow my eyes. “You know what that means, right?”

  “Pistols at high noon?”

  “Pistols at high noon.”

  Wide beams of blue and purple pierce the fog, picking out the severe planes of his face. His eyes flash red, blue, and red again. He leads me to the center of the catwalk, gaze holding mine. The music’s like a heartbeat, pounding in my throat, in my limbs. In my trigger finger. My breath’s coming quicker, palms slick with sweat. I adjust my grip on my pistol.

  Brandon does his best Clint Eastwood squint. He curls his lip and drops his voice to a whiskey growl. “I’ll bury you in your boots.” It ought to be funny, but it sets my blood racing.

  “I’ll let some light in that black heart of yours.”

  He whistles long and low. “Back to back, then.”

  “Ten paces....”

  The music hits its climax and fades out. Time seems to stop in the silence. We stand stock-still, bathed in light and fog, waiting, waiting. At last, an eerie chime comes over the speakers: the theme from A Few Dollars More. Brandon takes a deep breath, muscles tensing under his shirt. I step into the smoky chaos, and he does the same. Our footfalls echo in the quiet: one...two...three....

  I hit ten paces and turn. Brandon’s a dark shape in the mist, huge and menacing. Tendrils of smoke curl around his feet. The bells are winding down. My h
and twitches, and I fancy his does too. Almost...almost....

  The last chime hangs in the air and dies. Brandon stamps his foot. It’s shocking, in the silence, that sharp crack, the gleam in his eye as he lifts his head. I jump and fumble the shot. Green laser light zips past his ear. My vest erupts in pulsing light.

  “You—you...you...!”

  “You got to watch more Westerns.” He unhooks his vest, laughing. “There’s always a twist: someone gets shot in the back. Someone runs away. Clint Eastwood busts in with a shotgun.”

  “Yeah, but... I’m from here. We invented the genre. To be bested by a Canadian....”

  Brandon jumps down first and helps me to the ground. “Hey, now. It’s still wild country up there. Land of the silver birch; home of the beaver—where still the mighty moose wanders at will....”

  “Ugh, don’t sing!”

  He keeps right on warbling—one talent he doesn’t possess. We stumble out into the light, blinking as the disco-ball craziness of the arena gives way to the steady glow of fluorescents.

  “Great game, you two.” The attendant holds out a basket for our gear. “You like that touch at the end, with the watch chimes? Did that just for y’all.”

  “It was fantastic.” It really was. I might’ve lost, but I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face if I tried.

  Brandon slings his arm over my shoulders. “Picked you up a present—something badass, like you.” He plants a kiss on the crown of my head. “I was going to give it to you when you won, but now you’ve been laid out by a lowly Canadian... I don’t know.”

  “You wouldn’t tease me like that.”

  “Wouldn’t I?” A naughty finger trails up the back of my thigh, stopping just short of my ass. “Something tells me you’d appreciate a good tease.”

  “In the right context.” I sneak my hand into his pocket, but there’s nothing to find but his wallet and what feels like a pack of Life Savers.

  “I hid it better than that.” Brandon holds the door for me. “No—if you want it, you’ll have to ask nicely.”