Allie's War Early Years

by JC Andrijeski

  I found myself replaying the guy’s words, though. Was there any chance in hell that seeing him here was just a coincidence, like he said? Or had he followed me to the club? Had they run my papers after I tried to intervene with the seer, found out I was adopted and decided to take a closer look? I’d been court-ordered to take more racial-cat blood tests than anyone I knew, all because they’d never been able to find my birth parents after I’d been born.

  Which meant that whoever my biological parents were, they’d been living off the grid. Which meant they were probably criminals, or worse.

  Lucky me.

  Either way, that didn’t explain the note that morning. And the guy hadn’t scanned my barcode, at least not that I’d noticed, so he must've used an imaging device to track me. Those were illegal for anyone not in SCARB. So either he was some kind of rich nut with criminal tendencies... or Jon was right and he really was with the World Court.

  Neither thing boded well for me.

  Why hadn’t I shut up about the thing with the seer? I had enough eyes on me; the last thing I needed was SCARB thinking I was a seer sympathizer. Or worse, trying to sucker me into some Third Myth terrorist group, maybe to entrap me.

  By now, I’d nearly forgotten why I’d decided to go backstage in the first place.

  I was halfway down the corridor before I pulled my head back together. I stopped at the second security checkpoint, waving to the guy running it and showing him my badge before he motioned me to walk past. From the color of my badge, he pointed at the first door on the left, the changing room they’d assigned to Eye of Morris.

  I paused for a minute outside the door, trying to collect my thoughts before I went in. I was still drunk. Being screwed with by ponytail guy hadn’t sobered me much, just made me feel vaguely out of control and paranoid.

  I’d seen Corey, Drake, Winters and Hayden out at the bar, so Jaden should be alone.

  Well, hopefully, anyway. If he was surrounded by a bunch of hangers-on, then I’d just say hi and good luck with the show and take off. No big deal. I was still being supportive girlfriend, which he seemed to want.

  Taking a breath, I opened the door.

  The room was empty. I thought maybe I’d missed something and scanned it again, pausing on piles of clothes and the ratty couch shoved against one wall.

  But no, it really was deserted.

  I wandered in a little further, glancing around at all the corners, but it didn’t change anything. Beer bottles were strewn around the room, along with open guitar cases, stray cords and more articles of clothing. I realized even their instruments were gone, so they must be set up somewhere either on the stage or right next to it.

  Walking out, I wandered over to the security guard.

  “Hey,” I said. “Have you seen Jaden? You know... the singer. Eye of Morris. Black hair, blue eyes, six feet plus... ?”

  The big, no-neck guy in the club t-shirt gave me a sheepish look. I don’t know any other way to describe it than that. Clearly, he had seen Jaden, but didn’t want to tell me. Or, more likely, he’d been specifically told not to tell me. Or tell anyone, maybe.

  Not sure I wanted to interpret what that meant, I let my voice grow more pointed.

  “I’m not going to bug him,” I said. “Honest. I just want to wish him luck.”

  “I haven’t seen him. Not recently,” he added, still avoiding my eyes.

  I decided it wasn’t worth pressing. People like him probably got instructions all the time to keep girlfriends and family and whoever else away from members of their headlining bands. Not losing his job probably depended in part on his ability to keep his mouth shut.

  Biting my lip a little at the thought, I turned and wandered deeper under the stage. I thought maybe I could at least find their manager, Randy, and ask him. Randy smoked a lot of pot, so could often be found in dark corners, especially before a big show.

  That part of the backstage area was deserted, too, probably because security blocked it off so that there was only access to the stage from the one side. Where I was now looked more like storage for the club itself.

  I was almost to the other side of the corridor when I heard a giggle I recognized. I froze.

  I felt my breath stop, even before I’d put a face to that laugh.

  The laugh came again while I was standing there. The band on stage must be between songs; I could hear the echo of the lead singer's voice above me, addressing the audience. I couldn’t make out most of his words, but he was loud. Loud enough that I knew I likely wouldn’t have heard anything at all if they'd actually been playing music.

  Fighting not to react, I turned, looking in the direction from which the giggle originated. A set of three doors stood there. One was a few inches ajar.

  By then, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to go in there.

  In fact, I was like 95% sure I didn’t. But my feet moved that way anyway, seemingly outside of my control. Fighting not to make a sound, I reached the door and put my fingers on the handle, but just before I pushed it open, the band started up with their next song, making me come to a stop all over again.

  I’d been right; the music was deafening in the backstage acoustics. The corridor essentially stood under and directly behind the stage, so everything echoed so that it was probably louder than if I'd been standing up there with them. I’d only heard the laugh because the singer’s talking was punctuated by enough silences.

  Now I couldn’t hear a thing. On the plus side, I doubt whoever was inside that room could have heard me, either. Even so, I tugged on the handle carefully, holding my breath as I brought the door open a few more inches so I could slip inside.

  I just wanted to look, I told myself. I just wanted to reassure myself that it wasn’t what my overactive imagination wanted to make of it, before I let myself attach visuals to that glimpse of soundtrack I'd heard.

  I eased cautiously past the door’s opening. At first all I saw were the types of storage-room things you would expect for a big club. Costumes hung on freestanding racks. The floor was littered with light stands and fixtures, burned out bulbs next to new ones in padded boxes, club chairs and bar stools that needed a leg or some other part fixed, part of a booth next to a metal shelf unit covered with formal tablecloths in stacks along with table ruffles and cloth napkins and lace doilies for trays. Dismantled roundtops were stacked against a wall. I saw tray stands and serving trays in several different sizes stacked on another shelving unit. I also saw what looked like a giant, paper maché head from some event or other.

  Then I saw Jaden. I couldn’t see all of him; a long, standing rack of clothing stood in the way of most of his body. But I could see his face... and the fact that he was leaning back on a stack of cushions. I knew his clothes, down to the necklace that I’d given him and his bomber jacket. I also saw his hands, one of which was coiled into the hair of the woman who was leaning deeply into his side.

  They were kissing.

  I just stared for a moment, taking it in.

  I think my brain just... stopped.

  While I stood there, the band blared behind me, leaving the room strangely soundless, making the whole thing feel even more unreal when the two of them didn't come up for air. Then Jaden leaned forward, saying something into the ear of the pouty lips, who looked up long enough to giggle again, her breasts pushed up towards him. Seeing their faces so close together somehow made it real. More real than my brain could really handle.

  “What the fuck?” I shouted.

  Jaden jumped violently, looking up. Seeing me standing there, he pushed pouty lips back almost instinctively, even as I saw panic touch his eyes. She didn’t seem to want to let him go, though, and she hadn’t seen me yet, so she held onto his side.

  Then she turned her head. Staring at me, she gave me a false innocent look that made me want to punch her in the face. Or maybe do a lot more than just punch her.

  But I didn’t do what I would have thought I would do.

  I didn’t do anyth
ing at all.

  Turning around, I ran out, not even stopping to slam the door behind me.

  I just fled.

  I DIDN’T SEE the guy at all. I don’t think I could see anything at that point, and like before, he was so tall, his face wasn’t exactly in my range of vision.

  All I knew was that I was trying to get through the crowd of people by the bar. I don’t know if I was looking for Jon, or Cass, or fighting to get another drink, or maybe just to get the hell out of the club totally... but I ran into him pretty much full-tilt, making that the second time in just one day. I didn't fall down that time, though, maybe because he caught hold of my arms. When I looked up, the shock of seeing him nearly pulled me out of the trance I'd been in, ever since I’d seen my boyfriend’s lips locked on someone else’s.

  But all that came out of my mouth was one word.

  “You!” I said.

  The man looked slightly taken aback. Maybe it was because of the anger in my voice, or maybe something about the look on my face. Unlike ponytail guy, he looked pretty much exactly the same as he had that morning, down to the same t-shirt and dark pants. His black hair seemed to have been combed back though, if anything emphasizing that angular face and those light eyes even more. His narrow mouth pursed in a near frown as he looked me over.

  “What are you doing here?” I said.

  He continued to stare at me, his face close to expressionless.

  “Are you looking for your pal?” I snapped. I was trying to get a reaction out of him, I guess, any reaction. “...Because he already did the creepy stalker thing tonight. Did he pass the mantle to you for the rest of the evening?”

  The man’s eyes narrowed, growing wary.

  I was about to walk away, when he caught hold of my wrist.

  “Where?” he said. The German accent surprised me again, audible even when he spoke over the sound of the band. “Where did he go?”

  I jerked my arm out of his fingers. “How the hell would I know? He’s your friend, isn’t he? Now keep your hands to yourself...”

  I was about to walk away, when someone else grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to turn around. That time, it was the absolute last person I wanted to see.

  Jaden scanned my face and eyes, and for the second time, I saw fear in his expression. That fear turned rapidly to anger while I watched, maybe in self-defense.

  But what he said was about the last thing I would have expected.

  “Trust you to walk in at just the wrong time!” he snapped.

  For a moment I could only look at him.

  The I burst out in a humorless laugh. “You are fucking unbelievable. The wrong time?” I shoved his hand off my shoulder. “What, did I ruin the mood? I’m sure it would have been much better if I’d walked in ten minutes later, when her mouth was on your dick...”

  “Jesus! Exaggerate much? It was one kiss! I was mad at you... it didn’t mean anything!”

  “Don’t," I said, furious now. “Don’t you dare pretend I’m just some girl you’ve been dating for a few months who's overreacting... like this kind of thing had ever been okay for either of us! You're the one who said if you ever caught me out like that, it was over for us...”

  He looked about to say something, then didn’t, shutting his mouth.

  “Fine," he said. "But it still didn’t mean anything, Allie. I’m sorry I did it, and I’m sorry you saw it... but it was nothing. I'm sorry, okay?”

  I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood. “Well, then. I guess we're cool."

  When I tried to walk away, he stopped me, grabbing my shoulder again.

  “Allie!” he said. The anger leached out of his voice. “I’m sorry! I really am... but it was nothing. You just walked in at a really bad time... that’s all it was.”

  “Sure. Okay,” I said. “That’s all it was.”

  I tried to pull away from him again, but Jaden wouldn’t let go of my arm. When he tightened his grip more, I yanked my arm back as hard as I could... hard enough that I staggered a little, nearly falling into the tall guy with the black hair, Jon’s cop.

  I looked up at him in surprise. I’d pretty much forgotten he was there.

  Now I kind of wondered why he hadn’t walked away.

  Instead, he was looking between Jaden and me, his face expressionless, his eyes narrow. His gaze rested on mine a beat longer, and I saw some kind of feeling skate over the surface of his eyes. It wasn't puzzlement, like before, but it wasn't exactly empathy, either. I had no idea what the expression meant. Maybe he was just thinking that I was drunk. Or pathetic. Or both.

  At that point, I didn’t care.

  I was so angry at Jaden I could barely think straight. I was also just drunk enough that using this guy to make a point almost seemed like a good idea.

  Leaning up, I caught hold of his black hair in my fingers. I pulled his mouth down to mine, kissing him almost before I knew I intended to.

  The kiss probably surprised him more than it did me. I mean I was drunk, yeah, and I wanted to get back at Jaden, and the black-haired guy was really the only guy there, at least that I'd exchanged words with... but from his perspective, I’d hardly been friendly.

  I also had zero reason to think he wasn’t working with ponytail guy, who I never would have kissed in a million years.

  But for some reason, I still didn’t believe that. Jon’s cop was definitely weird, and it was definitely strange about him being at the club that night, but he still gave me a completely different vibe than the three guys who'd been beating up on that seer.

  Anyway, if the kiss did surprise him, he didn’t show it.

  He followed the tug of my fingers easily enough, and fell into the kiss itself easier still. I’d barely gotten my brain around what I was doing when his arm curled around my back, pulling me tight against him. His fingers wrapped around my side and he kissed me harder, right about when I might have been thinking about letting him go. That time, he used his tongue. His mouth had a kind of smoky, honey taste, but he didn’t taste like cigarettes exactly.

  By the time he was done with that second kiss, I’d pretty much forgotten why I'd started this. My body was starting to hurt. It was the strangest sensation; I found myself thinking it was coming from him, but it didn't make me want to pull away, if anything it did the opposite. Jon’s cop kissed me a third time, and by the end of that one, I was leaning into him, my arm sliding around his waist under the black coat he wore. When my fingers gripped the back of his belt, he gasped against my mouth, his hands tightening on me until I could barely breathe.

  When I finally ended it, it took me a few seconds to disentangle myself. Then I was resting back on my feet, standing a yard or so away from where he stood.

  For a few breaths, I could only stare at him.

  The black-haired man’s expression hadn’t changed. I could see him breathing a little harder under the coat. I saw his eyes flicker to my mouth... and got a fleeting impression that he hadn’t wanted to stop, that he might even have been thinking about kissing me again.

  Tearing my eyes off that pale, catlike gaze, I found Jaden staring at me, his expression a dark mask. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so angry.

  “Nice, Allie,” he said. “Really fucking nice.”

  Before I could pull my head together enough to answer, he turned around, and pushed his way almost violently back through the crowd, heading towards the left side of the stage. I knew where he was going. Back to the dressing rooms to get ready for the show, and likely back to where pouty lips was waiting for him.

  I just let him go.

  When I finally turned around, looking for the black-haired man, he was gone.

  SIX

  “ALLIE!” JON FOUGHT to grab my arm as I walked past.

  When I didn’t slow down, he lunged off the stool, and caught hold of me again, bringing me back to his seat before he lost it.

  “Allie! What the hell was that? Who was that guy?”

  “Jon, seriously.” I shook my head, trying t
o disentangle my arm. “Not now, okay?”

  “What the hell were you doing? It looked like the two of you...” Jon paused, flushing a little. “Jesus, Al. Are you having an affair?”

  When I only bit my lip, shaking my head, I saw him staring at my face. I started to push past him again, but he held onto my arm and I saw him read my expression in a sweeping glance, the way he always seemed to be able to do.

  I found myself wishing I’d just gone out the back alley, through the kitchen.

  “Jon,” I said. “I’m not having an affair, okay?”

  “What’s wrong?” he said, loud over the sound of the band. “Did Jaden do something?”

  I glanced at the stage, trying to pull my head together enough to answer him. I didn’t have the energy to come up with some story, not then, so I just told him the truth.

  “I saw Jaden with that girl,” I said, leaning closer so I wouldn’t have to shout it at him. “Kissing her. You know. The same one, who came out here from SF."

  "Oh, jeez, Al. I'm sorry."

  I shrugged. "That guy was just me being pathetic... trying to even the score.”

  Jon frowned, glancing back in the direction from where I’d come, as if seeing the whole thing in his head all over again.

  “It didn’t look like that, Al,” he said finally. “It looked like...” His lips pursed. “Well, it looked like you two were about to go at it right there. I don’t blame Jaden for being a little freaked. It looked like you knew that guy... like you’d kissed him before.” He paused, as if waiting for me to provide additional information. When I didn’t, he prompted,

  “You sure you don’t?” he said. “...Know that guy, Allie?”

  I made a disgusted sound. “No more than you do.” At Jon’s puzzled look, I shook my head again. “It was your cop. The guy from earlier today. The black-haired guy who you said flashed a badge at you by the park...”

  Jon’s eyes widened in alarm. “The same guy? Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive,” I said.