Moongazer

by Mari Mancusi

  I entered ChixOr's SoHo headquarters at exactly 9:30 a.m., aka one hour later than I was meant to arrive. At some point I'd passed out at my computer (no dreams, thank God) and had fallen into such a deep coma that I completely missed my alarm clock. In fact, it beeped for about forty minutes before Craig got fed up and proceeded to knock it off the nightstand. The destruction of the third alarm clock I'd gone through that month finally succeeded in rousing me. Then there was the forty-five minute wait for the subway. Sigh.

  I stepped off the elevator, greeted the receptionist, and walked through Cubicle Land until I got to my office. I loved it there. Getting out of Cube Hell had been the best thing about my promotion to senior game designer. Sure, it was small as anything, but the room had a floor-to-ceiling window, complete with an amazing view of a Chinese laundry and pizza stand. The only thing that slightly unnerved me was the smoked-glass inner walls. As people walked by, they inevitably peeked in-either to spy on whether I was actually working (my boss) or for the sheer pleasure of voyeurism (everyone else). After the first week of this, I went home and designed curtains for the bowl of my poor fish Omi. Unfortunately, I wasn't permitted to do the same for myself.

  I walked over to my desk, sighing at the mess. Had I really left all these papers strewn about when I left last night? I used to be so conscious of organization, but now I barely had enough hours in the day to finish work, never mind scheduling time to clean up after myself. I needed an assistant, badly. Or a clone. That would be nice.

  I settled into my chair and logged in to my computer. As I waited for Windows to start up, I heard a rap on my door. Great. Interruption number one, right on schedule. "Yes, what is it?" I snapped, trying not to sound cross even though I was. After all, it wasn't my visitor's fault I hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks.

  "It's Suzy. Can I come in?"

  I groaned, suddenly shifting from merely tired to downright irate. I'd told security time and again not to let my cousin into the office during work hours. But they couldn't seem to resist her sweet talk, low-cut dresses, and chocolate chip cookies, which she bragged were homemade. Yeah, they were homemade all right homemade by Jackie, Suzy's family housekeeper. Suzy wouldn't know the way to the kitchen if it wasn't where her stepfather stored the gin.

  Since it would be easier to stop the running of the bulls than deny the vivacious eighteen-year-old entrance, I wearily instructed her to come in. She pranced into the room, enveloped in a cloud of Dior's Poison and dripping in diamonds, and approached my desk. She'd changed her hair color since the last time I saw her-surprise, surprise-and was now sporting a spiky, fire-engine red. It was a look few could pull off without channeling Bozo the Clown, but somehow Suzy managed to do it with style.

  "Darling" she cried in her slightly English-accented voice, throwing out her arms to hug me. Suzy was born on Long Island, but was constantly pulling a Madonna. She waltzed behind my desk, invading my space, and leaned over to plant air kisses on each cheek. Ugh. The girl was a walking, talking society-girl stereotype, and I always found myself biting my tongue not to tell her to get a real personality. "Where have you been all my life?"

  "Suzy," I acknowledged, keeping my voice level and calm. "What can I do for you today?"

  She threw on a wounded face. "Does a girl need a reason to come visit her favorite cousin in the whole wide world?"

  "We've discussed this. Seventeen times at last count. I'm very busy when I'm at work. I don't have time for visits." Out of the corner of my eye I watched my boss walking past my office, staring in. Her displeasure would be readable a mile away. Damn these glass walls. Now, if the game had one tiny little mistake, she was going to blame me for socializing on the job. As if I had a choice.

  "Oh yes," my cousin sniffed, taking a seat instead of my not-so-subtle hint to leave. "You and your important job. The free world as we know it would just collapse if gamer girls couldn't get their geek on."

  "Did you come here solely to disturb me and insult my livelihood, or did you have some other purpose?"

  "I wanted to see if you were going to Luna tonight. Craig's spinning, right?"

  Luna was a nightclub on the Lower East Side where Craig occasionally DJ d. Once a decrepit hole in the wall, it had gotten a write-up in the Village Voice and had recently become the trendiest place in town. Suzy's boyfriend managed the joint and she was always trying to get me to go.

  "No way." I shook my head. "I haven't slept well in two weeks. The last thing I need is to go clubbing."

  She puffed out her lower lip in a pout. "Aw, come on, Skye," she begged. "You haven't been out in forever. We miss you."

  Yeah, they missed me. The old me, that is. The carefree, happy-go-lucky club kid who loved to dance and drink and party. The new Skye, the one haunted by nightmares, the one who hadn't had a decent night's sleep in eons, would prove to be a dud who rained on their Ecstasy parade.

  "Besides, rumor has it Paris Milton and her entourage are supposed to be showing up. Haven't you always wanted to meet her? Maybe she'll start dancing on tables like she always does in Vegas. How cool would that be?"

  "Sorry, Suze. I'm just not feeling well. I've been having these horrible nightmares and-"

  "Ooh, that reminds me, I had this crazy dream last night," Suzy butted in. "Jude Law and I were getting it on, and then in walks Ewan McGregor, right?"

  I sighed. Was everyone beside me just menage-a-trois-ing away nightly while I was stuck being chased and tormented?

  "Sounds great," I interrupted. "A bit TMI for this early in the morning, though, don't you think? I haven't even drunk my coffee yet." I gestured to the triple Venti caffeine blast sitting on my desk. It was actually my third cup that morning, but she didn't need to know that.

  Suzy stopped, the smile fading from her face. I watched, a bit confused. What had come over her all of a sudden? The change in expression was so abrupt. Almost as if someone had flipped a switch.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "Skye, I need you to go to Luna tonight," she said in a detached, almost mechanical tone. "I think Trent is cheating on me and I need you to find out if I'm right."

  Without even going to the club I could make a pretty educated guess that she was, but I felt bad admitting it. I knew that under her carefree, party-girl exterior Suzy was vulnerable and innocent and really loved her cokehead club manager of a boyfriend.

  "Why me? Why don't you hire a private detective or something?" I asked. Certainly the girl could afford it. "Have him follow the guy around for a few days."

  Suzy frowned. "Duh," she replied, seeming to gain a bit of her personality back. "A private detective can't get into the VIP room at Luna. Only you can."

  "What makes you think he's bringing the girl there, anyway? He knows he might run into you. And it's not like you can't get into the back rooms."

  "I told him I wasn't going tonight. That I was visiting my mom on Long Island," Suzy explained. Evidently she'd been working out this plan for a while. And he's asked me like a thousand times whether I'm still going. I know he's planning something."

  I sighed. It did sound likely.

  "Please?" Suzy's eyes filled with tears. "I need to know, Skye. I mean, this is the guy I've been planning on marrying. If he's cheating on me"-her voice cracked-"I need to make some hard decisions."

  Argh. It was the last thing I wanted to do tonight. I had a ton of work to get done on the game before release day. Not to mention I was existing solely on coffee fumes. But Suzy was my cousin. And I'd always prided myself on being there for people when they needed me.

  Against my better judgment, I walked around my desk and put my arms around her. She buried her face in my shoulder and sobbed. I stroked her spiky hair. "Shhh," I hushed. "It's going to be okay. No matter what I find, we'll get through this, all right?" From this angle I noticed a small moon-shaped tattoo just below her neck. For some reason it reminded me of my crazy dreams.

  She pulled her head away and met my eyes. "So, you'll do it?" she asked
, her face hopeful. "You'll go to the club tonight? See if he's got a girl on the side?"

  "Yes," I assured her. "I'll go."

  "Oh, thank you, Skye! You're the best cousin in the history of cousins!"

  I laughed. "I don't know about that, but thank you anyway. Now go away. I've got a busy day ahead of me. Especially now that I can't work tonight."

  Suzy thanked me about four more times and then exited my office. I sighed and walked back to my desk, slumping down onto it. This was so not how I wanted to spend my evening: going to a club. Ugh. But what could I do? I'd promised.

  My lungs constricted. Great. All this drama was inducing my asthma. I started to reach for my inhaler, then changed my mind and started my exercises.

  Breathe in. Hold it. One, two, three. Breathe out.

  Breathe in. Hold it. One, two, three. Breathe

  God, I was so tired. My eyelids weighed a ton. If only I could close them for two seconds. Just lay my head on my desk and ...

  I'm walking across a long suspension bridge made of rope and anchored by cracked stone pillars, spanning a chasm of undeterminable depth. Underground again: an inky blackness stretches high above. The surrounding cavern walls emit a dim glow, like there's phosphorus embedded deep inside. The air smells acrid. Of sulfur, or really cheap cologne.

  I step gingerly, placing my foot down on one of the small wooden planks. A slight wind catches the bridge, swinging it back and forth, and I grip the rope handrails tightly, my heart beating fast.

  I look to the other side, my apparent destination, and to my surprise I see Glenda standing at the bridge's end. Glenda's my yoga teacher, the one who's been giving me breathing lessons to lessen my dependence on asthma medication. She waves, offering me one of her trademark smiles. I try to smile back, but my mouth seems frozen in place. Why is she here? What does she want from me? And why are her eyes glowing an iridescent green?

  There's only one way to find out, so I draw in a deep breath and take another step. I can hear the bridge groan under my weight. It must be ancient, and the rope looks brittle. I look behind me. I'm too far to run back. I have to keep going. I have to hope it will stay together for one more crossing.

  "Keep walking," Glenda encourages. "You're almost there."

  I step again. And again. Step after step after step. The bridge seems endless, but still I persevere. What choice do I have?

  Finally, I'm close to the end. Near Glenda. Near the solid ground of the rocky bank beyond the bridge. But just as I'm about to make that final leap to safety, I hear a loud cracking. I whirl around just in time to see the stone pillars on the other bank disintegrate before my eyes. The rope suspension splits. The bridge shudders and cracks, the far side swinging down into the cavern. A split second later I'm vertical, hanging on to the handrails for dear life.

  "Help!" I scream to Glenda, who is standing above me, arms crossed and a serene smile on her seamless face. She's wearing a long white robe, the costume of a Greek goddess. A white crescent moon seems to glow from her forehead.

  "You've got to help me!"

  "Pull yourself out, Mariah," she commands in a calm voice. "You have the power to do so. You always have."

  Terrified, I try to pull myself up, my feet dangling uselessly, clawing for some kind of purchase. I'm not making much progress. My heart pounds in my chest. My arm muscles burn. I won't be able to hold on much longer. "Please!" I beg, tears streaming down my cheeks, blurring my already spotty vision. I can't believe she's just standing there when I'm about to fall to my death. "Just help me. Give me your hand."

  "You don't need my help anymore, Mariah," Glenda says with a gentle smile. "Look within yourself. You have the power."

  I have no idea what she's talking about, but now is not the time to try to puzzle it out. Summoning all the willpower and adrenaline I can muster, I give one last heave and hoist myself onto the bank. My chest slams into the solid rock floor, knocking the wind out of me. Automatically I search my pockets for my inhaler, but Glenda steps lightly on my hand with a ballet slippered foot.

  "No," she says, shaking her hand. "'Gazers enhance the pull of the moon. For successful reentry you must stop inhaling."

  Is she crazy? I have asthma. Of course I need my inhaler. But then I realize she's right. I can breathe. Large lungfuls with little effort. I gulp them like a fish that's been out of water almost to the point of death.

  When I've finally caught my breath, I scramble to my feet. "Why didn't you help me?" I demand, crossing my arms on my chest.

  Glenda just smiles her strange serene smile. I don't know if I want to punch her or hug her. "Because you didn't need me to," she says, placing a white hand on my arm. "You are almost ready."

  I cock my head. "Ready? Ready for what?"

  "For reentry. The Eclipsers have been working to get you out for a long time now. Myself included. Our doctors think you're almost there."

  "Reentry?" What the hell is she talking about?

  "You're starting to remember. These dreams are a good sign of that. Pretty soon you will awaken back home. But you've been gone a long time, Mariah, and your mind has been through a lot. Moongazing can cause serious brain damage. Our doctors believe your brain is still intact-all the vital functions. But we're not sure about your memories"

  My head hurts, my body hurts, and now I'm baffled on top of it. "Why do you keep calling me Mariah?"

  "Because that is who you are." Glenda reaches over to pull a strand of hair out of my face and gazes at me with tender green eyes. "Do not worry, little one. All will be clear in time. First we must get you out. Then we can start work on your recovery"

  "Recovery? Out?"

  "Sadly, there's no time to explain." Glenda glances at the watch on her wrist. "But listen carefully. When you finally go through reentry, you won't know where you are. Maybe not even who you are. You'll be vulnerable. Alone. If Duske finds you, he may try to suck you back in-get you back on the 'Gazers. Don't trust him. We may not be able to rescue you a second time."

  I feel like I've walked into a movie late, and the rest of the audience knows way more than me. I don't even know what questions to ask.

  "When you get home, call Dawn. He will be able to help you." Glenda reaches into a small reticule tied to her belt and pulls out a feather pen. She takes my hand in hers and scribbles something on the back.

  Don't trust Duske. Find Dawn.

  "What does that mean? What are these symbols?"

  "I'm sorry, child. We're out of time. It's pulling you back now." Suddenly her voice sounds a million miles away. "Just remember-seek Dawn. Avoid Duske."

  "Seek Dawn, avoid Duske," I repeat helplessly I can feel the darkness creep around me, yanking at the edges of my sanity. "Anything else?"

  "Yes. One other thing," Glenda says, her voice taking on an ultra serious tone. "Whatever happens, whatever you do, promise me you'll never, ever look into the moon."

  2

  I ignored the seemingly never-ending line, which wrapped almost all the way around an entire city block. Luna. The once hole-in-the-wall nightclub had become such a must-go destination for Manhattan's rich and bored, the designer bags alone in this line could be the down payment on a Park Avenue penthouse. Disgusting.

  The jealous stares of the line-waiters burned my backside as I waltzed up to the velvet ropes and gave the burly bouncer a hug. Bruno had been working the door since the days Luna paid actors to line up and attract a crowd. He looked like a thug but was actually a teddy bear.

  "Hey, doll-face," he greeted me. "Haven't seen you in a while. Slumming it tonight?"

  "Yeah," I said with a shrug. "I've sort of given up the club scene now that I have a real job and all. Going to bed at three a.m. just doesn't work for me anymore."

  Technically I'd gotten more sleep back in my club kid days than recently, but I didn't want to explain my nightmares to anyone else.

  He laughed. "Good for you, kid. Good for you." He unclipped the velvet rope and I noticed a small moon tattooed
between his thumb and forefinger. It looked just like Suzy's. Was this some kind of new trend I hadn't heard about? I supposed I'd learn about it soon enough.

  Bruno ushered me in. "Have a good time," he said, flashing me a toothy grin.

  I walked over the threshold, down a dark corridor, and into the main room. The club was packed with hot, blinged-out dancers, gyrating to a fast-paced techno beat. In the old days we used to have real raver kids at Luna, complete with baggy pants, glow sticks, and whistles; a fun-loving crowd without the attitude. These days the club was packed with insecure socialites and the Wall Streeters who fucked them. Nope. Not really my scene.

  But it didn't matter; tonight I wasn't there to play. I had a mission: Get to the VIP room, find Suzy's stupid boyfriend, see if he's sucking face with another chick, then head back uptown for another sleepless night.

  I pushed my way through the crowd and made my way to the VIP section. The bouncer, a new guy I didn't know, checked his list, then unclipped the rope. I climbed the stairs to the elite lounge where only Manhattan's finest were deemed worthy to hang. I felt a bit like an intruder, being far from Manhattan's "finest," but seeing as my boyfriend had spun here for the last four years, I probably had more right to hang than any of them.

  It was still early and there were only a few inhabitants: women in low-cut sparkly dresses and killer heels, a group of Armani-clad businessmen eyeing them. They all lounged on designer couches, sipping champagne and blatantly ignoring the NYC smoking ban. Trent was nowhere to be seen. I sank down into a nearby chair and allowed a cocktail waitress to take my drink order. Trent would show up eventually, especially if he had a new girl he wanted to impress. In the meantime, I might as well relax and enjoy the music. I waved at Craig over in the DJ booth. He grinned, probably thrilled to see I'd left my apartment, and blew me a kiss. For the first time in a while I felt kind of good. Even with its newfound cheesy club-goers, Luna was a place where I felt somewhat at home. It was safe. It was familiar. And it was loud enough to ensure that I wouldn't fall asleep.