Bring On the Night

by Jeri Smith-Ready

  “Fine.” I strut to his side to show him just how fine. He doesn’t know about the nightmares. No one does. “Shouldn’t you be with the groom?”

  “David wanted a minute alone.” He takes my hand and leads me into the hallway. “Besides, he’s worried about you, too.”

  “Worried I’ll eat the guests. But I swear I just had a snack.”

  “I can tell.” He runs his hand up my arm. “You’re warm. Not to mention gorgeous.”

  “This yellow dress doesn’t make me look washed out?”

  He scrunches his brows. “What do you mean?”

  For once, I’m glad he has the typical straight-male cluelessness about color.

  Shane takes my hands and examines me at arm’s length. “If anything, you make the dress look washed out.”

  For the millionth time, he has said exactly the right thing. “Ooh, tell me more.”

  “If I were a poet, I would say you outshine the sun, moon, and stars put together.” He steps forward, pressing the length of his body against mine. “But I’m not a poet, so I’ll just say that no matter what you wear, I always picture you naked.”

  “Pornographic poetry—my favorite kind.” I lift my chin for a kiss.

  Shane stops right before our mouths touch. “We shouldn’t. I don’t want to lick off your lipstick.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  He tilts his head. “Yes, I do.”

  He kisses me just as his cell phone vibrates through his jacket. To keep him from taking his hands off my body, I reach into his pocket and withdraw the electronic nuisance. Its caller ID screen shows a number I don’t recognize, along with the word “UNAVAILABLE.”

  Shane takes the phone. “Probably a whacked-out listener. I need to change my cell number again.” He puts it to his ear. “Yeah.”

  The string quartet in the foyer below ends their song. In the relative silence, my sensitive vampire ears catch the words from the phone speaker:

  Code Black.

  Shane’s face freezes. My heart stutters and stops.

  “Jim, tell me you’re calling from a pay phone.”

  I dig my nails into the molding on the wall behind me.

  “Yeah, I know where that is,” Shane says. “Which room?… Okay, we’ll be there in fifteen, max.” He slaps his phone shut. “Code Black. Get your clothes and the other DJs and meet me in the parking lot.”

  “Now? What about the wedding? The bridal party can’t just leave before the ceremony.”

  He grips my shoulders and stares at me with haunted eyes. “You remember what a Code Black means, don’t you?”

  I swallow past a rising clump of tears and whisper, “Yes.”

  “Then you know every second counts.” He tucks away his phone. “I’ll tell David there’s…” He scans our surroundings, his gaze settling on the rain-splattered window at the end of the hall. “Flooding at the station. We have to save the equipment.”

  “Not all of us. If you and I leave, he’ll know something horrible has happened.”

  “He also knows not to ask questions.” Shane brushes a lock of hair from my cheek. “Sorry you have to go through this.”

  “I’m one of you now.” My gut twists at the thought of what we’ll find when we join Jim. “For better or for worse.”

  His eyes turn sad as he kisses my hand near the engagement ring. “Parking lot. Five minutes.” He runs down the winding staircase, taking the steps three at a time.

  I hurry back into the parlor, where Regina is leaning out of the open window, sneaking a cigarette.

  Mrs. Koski passes me on her way out. She gives one final shudder at my dress, then leaves without a word.

  I rush up to Regina and whisper, “Code Black.”

  She freezes mid-puff. “Jim again?”

  “What do you mean, ‘again’?”

  “So it is Jim.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Bloody hell.” Regina takes a final deep drag of her cigarette, as if storing up the nicotine. “How many?”

  “Huh?”

  She arches an eyebrow. “Do you know what a Code Black is?”

  “Of course I do. But what do you mean, ‘How many?’ How many what?”

  “Duh.” She tosses her cigarette out the window. It sizzles as it hits the falling rain. “Bodies.”