by Jalex Hansen
Hikari blew air out through her lips. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Maybe you can’t. Maybe whoever it was will find us and then we won’t have to worry about it anymore ‘cause we’ll all be dead.”
“I would never let that happen,” Hikari said, her voice steel and determination.
“I thought you’d say that.”
She looked at the shining mark on her wrist. “Do you think I’m the only one?”
Yerik reached out and touched the mark with a hesitant finger, tracing it, before drawing his hand back again. “God, I hope so,” he said. “But what if there are more?”
Hikari pulled the pillow back over head. “I have enough to think about already,” she said.
Chapter
Sixteen
Connor Vaughn Leaves Hollywood to Become... A Political Aide?
by Jim McCann, Hollywood Beat
Anybody considering checking into rehab might think twice. Seems like these days you come out less sober than when you went in.
Connor Vaughn, who found fame playing bad boy, Johnny Parker, on the long running smash teen musical series, “Dreams” has found a new leash on life, and that’s not a typo. He traded in his Hollywood contract for a plush new job as a political aide to no less than the illustrious California Senator Angine, a man who has himself given up life on the Hill to come play in L.A. for awhile. Word has it that Angine has an interest in several major studios. After he enticed the beautiful Joanne Webb away from her contract, it only seems natural that her on- and-off again boyfriend Connor would follow suit.
Natural like Kim Kardashian.
In a press conference last week, Angine told reporters that Connor’s story had taken his interest because he had long been a fan of “Dreams”.(Anyone else think this is a little creepy?)
He began visiting Connor in rehab, helping him to recover and apparently inspiring an interest in politics. Both Connor and Joanne have been showing up flanking the Senator at the latest red carpet events.
Uh,what gives?
This is almost as weird as that freak tornado in Simi Valley last week.
Connor threw the magazine down on the coffee table next to his half eaten Pop Tart.
“There’s no such thing as bad press.” Joanne said, snatching the Pop Tart and eating it herself. Her long tan legs were stretched in his lap.
Seeing her again was the first “reward” Connor had been given after performing for the Senator, and in his loneliness and confusion he had been more than glad to have her back. Although she had her own apartment now, most mornings found her here, next to him. It all seemed to be working. They were on the rise again, but climbing a much different hill than the last time.
Still, despite the new digs with a skyline view of the city, and a wardrobe of Prada and Armani suits that made him look like a man for the first time, Connor was more uncertain than ever.
What Angine had unleashed in him, and that was the right word, the power he had tapped felt like an animal let out of its cage, made him feel like something inhuman.
Angine had explained how Connor’s DNA had been manipulated by some militant branch of rogue scientists trying to create mutant super humans. Like Hollywood, but real. His real parents had been frightened of him and had dumped him, literally.
Angine was just another one in long line of users, another person who wanted something from him and intended to extract it.
Connor was a good doggy too.
He sat when Angine wanted him to sit, wagged, rolled over, lifted bricks, rods, metal boxes, moved them through the air, threw them across the room.
Every time he “worked” with Angine he came away feeling less like a person and more like a robot.
He wasn’t sure if Joanne had ever wanted him for who he really was, but she gave a convincing impression of it. The first thing she did when he got back each night was to lay his head in her lap, while she stroked his hair and chattered about this, that, or the other bit of gossip she had picked up. He never really listened to what she said, but the sound of her husky voice worked like some sort of muscle relaxant until he felt soft, and pliable, and warm.
The Senator had told them their time in L.A. was almost up and they would be moving to Washington D.C. Connor really didn’t care where he was anymore. It was all starting to look the same.
And the truth was Angine had some good points. He was a shrewd business man and a gifted politician. How else could he have transformed himself from a nobody to one of the most powerful men in America? And it seemed he knew everyone of wealth or influence: Middle Eastern princes, Chinese business moguls, Hollywood directors, third world dictators. Connor himself had always played the little leagues of celebrity and was star struck by meeting kings, shahs, and international players at Angine’s private dinner parties. He was learning how the world worked, getting a cram session in power. Though most of the time, he wished he didn’t know how those with influence wielded their power, he was drawn to it too.
Angine knew just how to play him.
Today, Joanne was going out with friends. As she checked her lipstick in the mirror she threw a glance over her shoulder at him slouched in the sofa in his pajamas. “Con, maybe you should get out, you know? Get some sunglasses and a ball cap and hit the streets. Look up your friends or something. You’re losing yourself to him.” She sat on the floor in front of him, trying to get him to meet her eyes. “Don’t argue. I know what I’m talking about. He’s like a…a drug, or something, and if you don’t hang onto yourself just a little bit, you’ll disappear.”
She reached for his wrist and lifted it to her mouth, kissing the shining mark that had appeared on his skin after his first “experience.” That’s what they called them, experiences, there was really no other word.
Still holding his wrist she leaned over and kissed him long and deeply, a soft cloud of perfume and silky hair.
“Or we could both stay here,” Connor suggested.
She smiled wistfully and pulled away. “Get out of here for just a little while. Please.”
He nodded, knowing he was going to keep his butt parked right there all day. But after she was gone, the apartment rang with the sound of his breathing.
He got up and got a Coke and then with a sick sort of amusement, lifted the Coke can without touching it, and watched as it poured itself into the glass, the blue light sparking off the ice.
He had no idea what Angine wanted with him. It didn’t have anything to do with his acting talent or useless knowledge of world politics, that was for sure. No, it was this weird pale blue light and the things he could do with it. Though he didn’t want to think about it, he imagined some of the things he could use this light for besides pouring Coke and lifting bricks, horrible painful things, smashing people, cutting them in half, burning them. He was a walking weapon, that was his value.
He couldn’t be in this place alone with his thoughts anymore. He pulled on jeans, and a long sleeved shirt to hide the mark. Added the celebrity disguise of sunglasses and hat, and grabbed the car keys.
Angine had given Connor a Porsche Cayman. When he closed the door there was a little whoosh of air and then he was sealed into his own world of silence and speed. She handled beautifully, purring down the highway like hot butter. He turned up the sound and kept his eye on the radar scrambler, just in case.
He took the Santa Monica freeway enjoying the ride, the sun coming through the windshield, hot and bright. Taking side streets he went looking for the little Brazilian place where he liked to hang. The wait staff and owners knew him, and most of the clients were still from the local neighborhood, the kind of people that didn’t watch “Dreams” and didn’t know who he was.
The inside was shadowy in a good old fashioned way, the sun diffused by the dingy windows and thin red curtains; the air was thick with onions and garlic. A few people glanced up when he came in and then looked away seeing nothing special. Connor scanned the room looking for the most private booth, bu
t it was occupied.
He peered through the gloom thinking he recognized the guy. He moved a little closer trying not to stare. It was Tom Alverez. They had both started on “Dreams” together, but Tom had gone onto a short successful movie career before he fell off the radar, did a few reality shows and disappeared. For some reason thinking of that bothered Connor more than he wanted it to. He was sure it was Tom, but he looked different too, way older, slumped and beaten.
He slid into the red naugahyde booth. Tom was staring at the paper with a slack look, not reading. He didn’t look up and Connor wondered for a minute if he was blitzed out on drugs.
“Don’t order anything,” Tom said.
“Man, you look... different. A little Brazilian barbecue will do you wonders.”
“It’s not safe to eat here,” Tom said under his breath.
Connor was beginning to wish he hadn’t sat down here. He should have stayed home. The joke he was going to make died in his throat. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not safe to be here.” Tom’s eyes flicked around the room and back again, a skipping stone. “With me, I mean.”
Connor leaned in, lowering his own voice. “What’s happened to you, dude? You’re freakin’ me out.”
“I’m freaking you out?” Tom’s smile was a cold, hungry thing. “You’re eyes are gray.”
“Contacts.”
“And this.” Quick as a snake Tom reached over and pulled up the sleeve of Con’s shirt, long enough to look at the shining mark, before he yanked it back down again. “What’s that... henna?”
Connor was trying to form a good response when Tom said, “Let’s get out of here. I’ll explain.”
Connor was torn between the desire to find out what this was and whether it was risky to do so. Curiosity won out though, and he slid a couple bucks onto the table for the bus boy that would have to wipe up, and followed Tom out.
“That your ride?” Tom pointed to the Porsche.
“Yeah.”
“Figures. We’d better take it, it won’t be here when we get back if we don’t. This neighborhood’s gone to the dogs.”
“That’s what I like about it.”
Tom didn’t answer, but slid into the passenger side. Connor started the engine. “Where’re we going?”
“Just drive.”
That, Connor could do. While he navigated out of the city and took the PCH heading north, Tom talked.
“You remember Maria?” Tom asked.
“You’re step-sister right? College chick, hot little Latina?”
“That’s the one.”
“How is she?”
“She’s dead.”
“Dead?” Connor was starting to sound like the world’s more annoying parrot, but seriously, how was he supposed to process this?
“She had a degree in chemical engineering. She had discovered this new chemical bond. Don’t ask me what it was. She talked and I just watched her mouth move. She could say hydrogen and nuclei and make it sound like the most magical thing in the world.” He coughed, turned away. Connor let him have the silence, contemplating whether Tom had had the hots for his step-sister, and decided it didn’t really matter. “Anyway, Angine wanted it. You know he owns the pharmaceutical companies, holds the reins on the FDA? I still don’t know how he’s done it all. He owns the world.”
“I’m starting to get that.”
“I bet you are. Nice car he got you. What other dog treats has he thrown you... Joanne?”
This was so close to Connor’s way of thinking that it felt like a rock thrown at his head. He gave Tom a few of his favorite words to chew on, but he just laughed.
“At least you get to keep her.”
Connor didn’t think he’d ever heard a human being so bitter, but he didn’t say so. “So what happened?”
“Angine came knocking one day. Just showed up on our doorstep at the summer house in Mazatlan. We recognized him of course from the news, but couldn’t figure out how he knew about Maria’s work or how he had learned about us. It was something she was just doing in her lab at the house, a private experiment. I bankrolled it for her. She wanted something big to give her some clout when she went looking for a position, she wanted to teach but she didn’t want to have to climb her way up, one internship at a time. She knew she was smarter than most of them.” He shook his head, got back on track.
Outside the sky was turning dirty yellow and purple, a big California bruise of a smoggy sunset. “He wanted to buy the compound, but Maria wouldn’t let him have it. Said she wasn’t going to see her discovery used to hurt people, and that’s what politicians did, looked for ways to control the people.
“He thanked her and left, but the look on his face, like she was a steak dinner and he hadn’t eaten in a month, it scared us bad. We were packing to leave, just go anywhere. I went out to get some gas for the car and when I came back, the house, the lab was ransacked, and Maria was... dead. Shot in the back of the head. At least she hadn’t seen it coming.” He stopped again and they drove without speaking while the sun was swallowed by the ocean.
Connor turned on the headlights and considered whether he should be turning around yet, Joanne might wonder what happened to him. He kept driving. “Did you know I would be there today, at the restaurant? I have the feeling you were waiting for me.”
“Angine wanted me to follow you.”
“Okay. Make me understand that.”
“I work for him.”
Connor almost ran off the road. He pulled over to the shoulder and sat looking at his old friend in the glow from the dashboard. “Explain to me exactly how this works, would you?”
Tom looked up. His eyes were locked onto Con’s. “If you go to him I will know. And I will kill you.”
Connor didn’t doubt that he would try. “But could you?” He didn’t drop his gaze until Tom did first.
“I don’t know.” Tom seemed to have lost his bones. He caved into the seat. “We’re probably both in over our heads.”
“Amen to that, brother. So... ”
“I’m working for him, looking for more, more people with the mark, with your abilities.”
“Are there more?”
“He thinks so. It makes sense. He needs more so he can do whatever it is he’s planning.”
“Do you know what that is?”
Tom shook his head.
Connor tapped his thumb on the steering wheel. “Look, I don’t understand. He killed Maria, and now you’re working for him. What’s the deal with that?”
Tom smiled that hollow smile again. “Because I’m working for him so I can work against him. Do you understand?”
“Whatever... you and what army?”
“Well, we’re working on that.”
“We who?” God he was sick of asking questions.
“It’s not exactly an army yet. There are other people that know. They’ve gone underground into hiding. We met through mutual friends, you could say, and we agreed that we could help each other.”
“So you’re a spy?”
“I like double agent better, sounds more sophisticated.” A glimpse of the old Tom, the twinkly eyes, dark mop of hair and crazy I’ll-do-anything-you-dare-me grin, resurfaced for just a second.
Connor started the car again, more than ready to ditch Tom and get back to the apartment before anybody figured out where he’d been. “No offense, Tom, but I’d like to keep my girlfriend alive. I can’t help you.”
“You don’t get it at all, do you, Con? I’m trying to help you! He’ll keep Joanne alive as long as you don’t piss him off, and you might do that by screwing up one of your little parlor tricks. See this new nose I got?” He turned his head so Con could see that his nose was crooked, off to the left. “That was from a bad day at the office. He owns you, and he’s training you for something that would age you if you heard what it was.”
Con thought from the look of him, Tom had heard already. He wasn’t about to ask. He pushed the Cayman up to ninety-fiv
e.
“Your demons chasing you, bro?”
Con didn’t answer.
When they came to the outskirts of the city, Tom told him to stop and let him out. “I can make my way,” he said. He stepped out of the car but held the door for just a minute. He told Con an address. “Memorize that and then hide it deep in your head. You know how to do that?”
Con nodded. He had learned that fast.
“Good. You need help or you change your mind, you go to that place and one of them will find you.” He studied Connor for a long minute before he said, “I’ll be seeing you.” And slammed the door.
Connor got back to the apartment to find Angine waiting in the living room. Joanne was sitting on the couch next to him, her head thrown back laughing.
“You two look cozy,” Con snapped. He was rattled by the day, by what Tom had told him. He tried very hard not to think of it while Angine’s eyes were stuck to his like pins.
“Where have you been, Con?”
“Out with friends,” Connor said, smooth as pudding. “Joanne said I needed to get out and do something. Didn’t know she was making room for you.”
“Connor!” Joanne’s eyes were wide and startled, and furtive.
The Senator stood up and brushed imaginary lint from his black pants. “I can see it’s time to leave. Have a good night, Joanne. Try to keep this tiger in its cage, would you?” As he passed Connor he leaned over and said very quietly, his breath hot and oily on Con’s neck, “You have no friends.”
Connor didn’t even blink.
Joanne was angry at him, he could tell, but it was a self defensive anger. As soon as the door shut behind Angine she came to him and unclenched his fists. He wished more than anything he could tell her everything he knew, ask what he should do, but he would never, never put her in danger. It wasn’t much, but she was all he had.
