Dead Girl Dancing
Page 19
He seemed to be waiting, watching me for a reaction. But I wasn’t sure what to say. His twisted logic chilled me, yet inspired some sympathy, too. I mean, going to the gallows for someone you loved was tragic.
“I’m sorry that you died and everything,” I said after what seemed like a long stretch of silence. “The DDT will be here any minute.”
“You shouldn’t have contacted them.”
“You shouldn’t have taped me up.”
“I did it for your own good. In one hundred and twenty years, you are my only failure. I regret not helping you, Sharayah,” he said sadly.
Then a shift took place in his expression, as if he was realizing something he’d forgotten until now. “But you aren’t Sharayah. Are you?”
I hesitated, then shook my head.
“Who are you?”
Lying seemed a waste of time, so I went with the truth. “Amber.”
“A Temp Lifer?” he guessed.
“Yes. Sent to repair the damage you did to Sharayah by letting her think she’d killed you. What really happened that night?”
“I was getting ready to give my speech about deceitful love. After that I always walked away, knowing they’d be wiser now. Only Sharayah ruined it and I fell. I missed the rocks but suffered bad cuts. Do you know what happens to Dark Lifers if they bleed?”
“They can’t stay in the body very long.”
“Right, and have to immediately find a new one,” he explained. “I hitched a ride and switched with the guy who picked me up. Unfortunately, the car was a hot one and I got arrested. I spent three stinking, disgusting, humiliating weeks in jail.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”
“Not sympathy, but respect for my attempts to reach you. I never gave up trying to find you, even though it took weeks. Finally I found you in San Jose and slipped into the body of a young man residing in a nearby dorm.”
Something clicked. “Was his name Caleb, and did he go out with a girl named Katelyn?”
“Very good,” he said, impressed.
“What about the real Gabe?” I asked. “Is he really paralyzed?”
“I’m the only real Gabe—my name is Gabriel Deverau—but I suppose you mean the body I used when I dated Sharayah. What was his real name?” He touched his chin thoughtfully. “Well, no matter. He only has a few memories of my time in his body. Aside from some cuts and confusion, he walked away to resume his safe, boring life. And now I must resume my lives, too.”
I cringed at his use of “lives” plural. He was a menace and would keep breaking hearts unless he was stopped. Still, I was relieved that he didn’t have any plans to drown me.
“The DD Team will never catch me,” he said as he started up the stairs.
“You’re just leaving?” I cried, thrashing my bound hands and legs. “What about me?”
“The DD Team can set you free.”
Then he was gone.
Oh, great.
I’d lied to Gabe so convincingly that he’d left without untaping me.
Still, I could turn my “lie” into the truth easily enough.
Bending sideways, I reached for my GEM again.
It took awhile to push it out of my pocket with just my fingertips, but after a lot of groaning and twisting, I was rewarded with a thump on the floor. The GEM flipped over twice, then fell open to a beautiful blank page.
Before I’d finished asking for the DD Team and explaining where I was, there was a startling flash and four members of the DD Team, wearing business suits, squished into the tiny cabin. Gabe must be high on their Wanted, Dead and Alive list for them to send in four team members.
They didn’t waste any time, either, uncoiling their silver ropes as they surrounded me. Their rapid-fire questions made me dizzy: What did the Dark Lifer look like? Did he give a name? Where did he go? I did my best to answer but I couldn’t tell them much. And I grew increasingly uncomfortable, squished like a badly wrapped gift against the bench cushions.
Finally I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Enough questions!” I interrupted. “Would someone please untape me?”
A short time later, wearing only one shoe and the clothes from Gabe, I hobbled back to Club Revolution.
About a mile away, I felt the vibrations in the air and the ground and saw the beautiful sight of bright lights blazing against the backdrop of the dark, misty night.
Then I turned a corner and saw the most wonderful sight in the entire world.
Eli—running toward me.
I ran, too, so full of emotion that I didn’t even think about what I looked like or who I was when I threw my arms around him.
“I’m so glad to see you!” I cried, burying my face in his jacket.
“Amber! I’ve been searching everywhere and was ready to call the police. Where have you been?”
I shook my head, too tired and cold to think about anything except how good it felt to be in his arms.
“You’re freezing. Here, take my coat,” he offered.
But I shook my head, remembering Gabe/Dyce giving me his jacket. “Just hold me,” I whispered. “Oh, Eli! I’m so glad to be back with you.”
“What happened?”
“It was Dyce … I mean Gabe. He-he lied and then tried to kidnap me.” I held out my hands, which were raw and red under the shining street lights.
“Bastard! Where is he? I’ll go there and—”
“And what?” I almost laughed at his ferocious tone; it was like he was a Chihuahua ready to take on a wolf, which was so sweet that I almost cried. “It’s okay now. He’s gone for good.”
“Are you all right? Should we call the police?”
“Already taken care of,” I said, not having the energy to go into all the details.
“But what happened? I don’t understand any of this.”
“I’ll explain later,” I promised. “Now I just want to be held.”
And kissed, I thought.
He must have been thinking the same thing, because he pulled me closer and tipped my chin, his touch so gentle, making me feel safe and warm. Not the tingling thrill of Gabe’s touch, but so much more real and honest. I could trust Eli with my life and my heart. You’re wrong about love, Gabe, I thought.
Smiling for the first time in hours, I looked into Eli’s eyes and lifted my lips toward his—until we heard a gasp and jumped apart.
Turning around, I saw Sadie staring at us with the most disgusted look I’d ever seen on her face.
“Ohmygod, Rayah!” she exclaimed. “Kissing your own brother! That’s just sick!”
It took some fast talking, but Sadie eventually believed that we weren’t kissing (which was true, since she’d so rudely interrupted) and that Eli was just comforting me because I’d been kidnapped. Showing Sadie my bruised wrists and ankles added proof.
After that, things were kind of a blur. Sadie talked a lot, relieved I wasn’t going to call the police, then told me she’d run into Warren but he’d blown her off. She’d called him some appropriate names and told him where he could go. Then she met a new guy who was way better than Warren, anyway.
When I asked about Mauve, Sadie shrugged and said she was back with Alonzo. Apparently, for the first time in Mauve’s history, she was trying monogamy. I had my doubts but hoped it worked for her.
Eli wanted me to stay with him at his friends’ house but I didn’t want to have to make small talk with strangers. He promised to pick me up early (in about six hours) for the Voice Choice audition, then he dropped me off at the crappo condo.
My bed and Kitty Calico were waiting for me.
When I awoke, I was surprised to see Mauve sleeping on the fold-out bed and the cat now cuddled up to her (traitor!). I shut off the alarm, so groggy I was tempted to forget about the audition and sleep all day. But I couldn’t let Sharayah down. In less than twelve hours I’d return to my own body, and she’d have to survive on her own—which would be much easier if she made the Voice Choice finals.
I thought leaving at six would be early enough, but by the time Eli got off the congested freeways and found a parking space, the line-up for the competition was like a mile long. No exaggeration!
“What do they think this is?” I complained to Eli as I took my sorry position at the end of the line. “American Idol?”
“Looks like it,” he agreed. “But we’ve made it this far. We can wait.”
I gave him a surprised look. “You don’t have to stay with me. It could be hours.”
“I don’t mind.” He grinned and slipped his arm casually around my shoulders. “I’m just being a supportive brother.”
“Oh, brother,” I sighed, but I was grinning, too.
I’d always enjoyed people-watching, and waiting in that line gave me plenty to watch. Most auditioners had come prepared with chairs, blankets, pillows and coolers. One girl was actually sleeping on a folding cot, her friends shifting it a few inches whenever the line moved—which wasn’t often.
One hour, then two, then three went by before I was close enough to see the front of the line. But it was still about a block—and a few hundred people—away. By hour four, though, I was feeling better because Eli had gone out for hamburgers, drinks and fries, returning with a blanket, too.
As we were finishing our food, a guy in a black cap (that had a microphone logo and VC on the front) came by with legal forms to complete. He started to hand one to Eli, but “my brother” shook his head and gestured to me. Since I didn’t know Sharayah’s address or other personal details, I handed the form and pen to Eli. The line started to move again, so he hastily filled out the form, then handed it to the VC official a few minutes later.
Then we stood for another hour with no line movement at all. It was so frustrating, being this close yet still not inside. Eli and I passed the time by planning what song I would sing. I wanted to go with something bluesy to show off Sharayah’s vocal range, but Eli thought I should do something off the latest Top Ten. We argued for about three feet’s worth of line movement before settling on something that was bluesy but also popular.
As we waited, doubts began to strike me. All around, singing hopefuls belted out their songs, some dancing, too. But what had I done to prepare? Nothing. I still wasn’t sure about my song choice, which was the most important thing. How could I possibly have any chance at winning?
As I was thinking I should just give up now and leave, the line started moving again. Much faster. For the first time since arriving I could actually see the entry door. Double doors, actually, with official security guards grilling each person before allowing them to go inside. Someone in a bear outfit had just stepped in, followed by triplet guys all dressed in black and then a girl who could double for Britney Spears. When I counted the people in front of me, there were only twenty-five.
“Excuse me,” someone said behind me.
I turned and saw a gray-haired woman, her face wrinkled and her frail body stooped over. She wore a pleated navy-blue skirt, a long-sleeved blue blouse and a yellow scarf. I’d never seen her before, so wondered why she’d come over to me.
“Yes?” I asked curiously, since there was an age restriction in the contest rules disqualifying anyone over thirty, and this withered old woman had to be at least thirty times three.
“I wondered if you could spare some water,” she asked weakly, pointing to the water bottles Eli had bought earlier. “So many hours waiting … and I’m feeling dizzy. I can pay you.”
Eli reached out and handed her a bottle. “You can have it, no charge,” he said.
“Thank you so much. I knew just by looking at you two youngsters that you were kind.”
“Are you here for the competition?” I asked.
“Only to support my talented grandson. But after a visit to the ladies room, I’ve lost him. He must have gone inside but the guards won’t let me in.”
“They won’t?” Eli said with a fierce frown. “Well, I’ll see about that. Come with me and I’ll talk to them for you.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t mind waiting.” She waved her hand a bit helplessly. “Although it’s getting so warm and I’m—” Her voice broke off and her feet buckled.
We both moved to help but Eli reached her first, cradling her in his arms so she didn’t fall. He grabbed a water bottle, twisted it open and held it up to her mouth. “Take a sip,” he encouraged gently.
“That’s better … but, ooh … everything is spinning.” She stood up and took a step forward then swayed.
“You need medical attention,” Eli said firmly. “I’ll talk to the guards and see if there’s a medic nearby.”
“Gracious, no. I don’t want anyone fussing over me. I’ll be fine if I just take a moment in the ladies’ room.”
“I’ll take you there,” Eli offered.
She shooed him away. “Young men have no place going near a ladies’ room. I’ll be fine.”
But it was obvious by the way she wobbled that she couldn’t make it two feet on her own.
“I’ll take you,” I offered.
“You can’t leave now,” Eli protested.
“This won’t take long, and you can hold my place for me. The restroom isn’t far and I can get back before the line moves.” Not giving Eli a chance to argue, I stood and took the frail woman by the arm.
She moved surprisingly quickly once we neared the restroom. When I reached for the door, I frowned at an out of service sign hanging on the knob. “Oh, no. We’ll have to find another place.”
“Don’t mind that,” she said, pushing the door open. “I was here earlier and it works just fine.” Then she wobbled, and I lunged forward to keep her from falling.
The bathroom seemed to be in working order: no leaking faucets or overflowing toilets. I led the woman to a stall. She leaned against the door and reached into her shoulder bag.
“I’m going to go now,” I said as I turned around.
“No, you aren’t. You’re staying here with me.” She whipped something gray out of her bag and aimed it at me.
A stun gun.
As I stared in astonishment, she reached up and yanked off her gray wig. Shining red curls tumbled down over her not-so-old shoulders.
Too shocked to think, I said the first thing that popped into my head. “What is it with you and bathrooms?”
“It was the only place to get you alone.”
“I can’t believe you followed me over four hundred miles! Are you obsessed or something? What’s this all about?” I was trying to stall her while I gauged the distance between the door and her gun hand, considering my chances for rushing her. I was taller than she was by at least six inches, but she was wider and probably stronger. I could run faster … but not faster than her trigger finger.
“No sudden moves.” She kept the gun aimed at me. “I don’t want to use this, but I will if you don’t do exactly what I say.”
I nodded, fear creeping up my spine. “What do you want?”
“My best friend back the way she used to be,” she said with a weary sigh. “Sharayah, this is an intervention.”
“I’ve missed you so much, Shari,” the redhead continued, so miserably that even though she held the stun gun, I felt a little sorry for her.
Best friend? I remembered Eli telling me how Sharayah dumped all her friends, even her closest friend since childhood.
“Hannah?” I guessed.
“I followed you hundreds of miles and borrowed my mother’s Taser just to get you alone.” She wiped tears from her eyes with her free hand. “I even went to this f
unky Taser party with my mom to learn how to use this. I’m not kidding around, Shari, I will stun you if that’s what it takes to keep you here.”
“But I have to get back to the audition. I was almost to the front of the line and there isn’t much time left before—” I hesitated, realizing this wasn’t the time or place to explain about Temp Lifers. “Anyway, this competition is really important.”
“Other things are more important … like our friendship.”
“Hannah, I know you’re a wonderful friend, but I really need to go back to Eli. Can’t we just meet after the competition?”
“To hell with the goddamned competition!” Then she blushed, as if ashamed by her outburst. “See how crazy you make me? I almost never swear because of how we think it’s so demeaning. Remember when we found that Shakespearean-insult website and went around saying stuff like ‘thou crusty beef-witted canker blossom’ and ‘thou poisonous fly-bitten fustilarian’? We mocked other kids who only repeated the same boring swear words. But you’ve changed … I can’t believe what I’ve been hearing about you.”
That’s for sure, I thought ruefully. I nodded to show her I was ashamed, then subtly took a step closer to the door.
“Stop!” she ordered, with a steady aim of the gun. “I’m way serious about this intervention.”
“I have to g—”
“Don’t interrupt! I’ve gone through hell because of you, and the least you can do is give me fifteen freaking minutes of your time. I don’t want to hear any more arguments. Be quiet and listen until we’re done … or else.” She pushed the gun closer to me.
I lifted my hands in surrender. “I’ll stay,” I promised.
She exhaled so deeply that the faux wrinkles on her face relaxed. Now that I could see her close up, I was embarrassed that I’d been fooled by the grandma act. Her reddish-brown lashes curled over large chocolate eyes that were glistening with emotion. But her full lips were pressed together with determination as she kept a steady grip on the gun.
“You have to do what I say.” She reached behind her for a cheerful blue beach bag and pulled out a small blanket. She tossed it on the floor and told me to spread it out, then sit down.