Night Prowler Part One

by Samantha Steele

  “Sam wanted me to teach it to her,” I said. Joan shrugged and gestured to the stagehand again, who brought me a red Fender with Joan Jett and the Blackhearts painted on the fret board. I grinned and walked stiffly to stage left.

  “Um, I play drums,” Cami said, clearing her throat. Joan looked at her.

  “You know the song?” she asked. Cami shook her head slowly. Joan frowned. “Well, there’s no back up singing in this song.”

  “Cami,” I shouted across the stage. “You remember that song we played in my garage last weekend?” Cami nodded.

  “THAT was Dead End Justice. You remember it?”

  “OH! I didn’t know the name,” Cami said, slapping her forehead. “Okay I guess I do know the song.” Joan smiled and nodded to her drummer, who stood up and handed Cami his drumsticks. Cami shook her head.

  “I got my own.”

  “One, two, three, four.”

  I strung the first chord and it rattled pleasantly in my ears.

  Joan was playing, too, and Sam looked focused as she counted in her head.

  “I’m a blonde bombshell and I wear it well,” she sang. I laughed because she’s not really blonde. Funny, the things that hit you when you’re stage.

  “Your mama says you’re going straight to hell,” Joan sang.

  “I’m sweet sixteen and a rebel queen and I look real hot in my tight blue jeans.”

  Sam twisted her hips and stared at Mitch through nearly the entire song. We stopped playing after the scream, skipping the talking part.

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  “Thank you!” Joan shouted, waving goodbye. Sam, Cami, and I were escorted off the stage by a security guard. Joan Jett and the Blackhearts gathered their guitars and drumsticks and went backstage.

  “That was fucking AWESOME!” Sam cried when we found the guys. “The only thing that would’ve made that even more exciting would be if I wore Cherie Currie’s white corset.

  You know, the one she wore at the Tokyo concert?”

  “No, I don’t know, but I think I would’ve enjoyed it,”

  Mitch laughed.

  “I didn’t know you played guitar so well,” Evan said, pulling me towards the snack table. Sam continued to blab about how exciting singing was.

  “I didn’t know Sam could sing,” I laughed. “She usually sounds pretty terrible when we’re in my garage. Then again, Cherie was amazing, yet always high. Maybe Sam needs to start snorting cocaine.”

  “Aw, she can’t be that bad. Singing always sounds better with a full band, and she was doing an impromptu performance,”

  Evan said.

  “Oh, you’re so kind,” I laughed.

  Suddenly realizing how hungry I was, I starting filling up a plate at the salad bar. Evan went straight for the tiny finger sandwiches.

  “You eat like a bird,” he said, sitting down with me at a table.

  “You eat like a bear,” I replied, stabbing dry lettuce and cheddar cheese with my fork. I was surprised and pleased at how crisp and fresh the lettuce was. That’s unusual for Alaska, especially at a cheaply catered prom.

  “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but you look really hot,” Evan said, leaning towards me. I smiled, but managed not to blush.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’d say you look hot, but I’m sure that’s nothing new.”

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  “It’s new to hear it from you,” he said. Then he shifted in his seat. “If staying in my room makes you uncomfortable, I don’t know if we could tear Sam and Mitch apart, but I bet Bryce and Cami would split up.” I laughed.

  “I thought you were known for humping anything that moves?” I asked, tearing a piece of lettuce off my fork with my teeth and watching him squirm.

  “You know I’m not really like that,” he said. “Besides, I actually like you. I don’t want to scare you away.”

  “I’m metal,” I said confidently. “You don’t scare me.”

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  Cami Hooper

  I sat down at the drum set, twirling my drumsticks. I remembered this song being fairly easy, but that didn’t make me any less nervous when Joan started counting. I broke right into the drumming, my wrists remembering the motions better than my brain.

  Sam started singing, and I was surprised at how good she sounded. Usually Sam sounds pretty lame when we play in Annika’s garage, but we don’t care. That’s just for fun. Maybe she sounded good because her voice was coupled by Joan Jett’s.

  As we got deeper into the song, I started to enjoy myself even more. I didn’t realize we were stopping just after the scream, so I kept drumming a little until I realized Annika was pulling the guitar strap off her shoulder.

  As we were exiting the stage, Sam started going off about how awesome it was. I agreed, and watched as Evan pulled Annika off to another table. Bryce came up to me and grabbed my hand, complimenting me on my drumming skills.

  “Yeah, I didn’t realize the song was over though,” I laughed. “I was totally gonna keep going.”

  “At least you were really into it,” he said, smiling. “Sam clearly was, too.”

  “Yeah, she loves Joan Jett and The Runaways and all that,” I laughed. “Anni and I aren’t quite as big of fans. We’re more inclined to metal.”

  “Not into the slutty rock-chick band thing?” he asked.

  “Oh don’t get me wrong, I love being a slutty rock chick.

  I just think Sam’s more into it than I am.”

  “Are you guys talking about me?” Sam asked, raising her eyebrows.

  “Oh, yeah,” Bryce answered. “Cami called you a slutty rock chick.” Sam smiled and gave me a hug, pretending to cry.

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  “Oh, you don’t know how much that means to me,” she said. “I’m so honored you think of me that way.”

  “You have really low standards,” I said flatly. Sam laughed and lightly punched me in the shoulder.

  “Thanks,” she snorted.

  “Only low standards for friends. I’m up there in the top five best boyfriends category,” Mitch joked. Sam smiled.

  “You’re the top one,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. He kissed the top of her head and she sighed.

  “I’m tired. We should go back to the hotel.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed with a yawn. “I know we’ve got until six in the morning with the limo, but I totally can’t stay up that late.”

  Mitch went over to Anni and Evan to tell them we were ready to go. Pretty much everyone else was leaving, too. As we were walking out, Mitch went up to the front desk to say goodbye to Zac.

  “What’s wrong, Mitch?” Sam asked when we got settled in the limo. “You look like you’re thinking really hard.”

  “Well… Zac said he saw Jacob and Macy talking.

  Apparently he had his arm around her and she was crying,” Mitch said, his brow furrowed.

  “Oh so now you’re interested in Macy’s feelings?” Sam asked with a laugh. Mitch shook his head.

  “No. I’m just concerned a little.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Zac said she didn’t come back inside, but her car’s right there.” Mitch pointed out the window to a purple Jeep.

  “Where did she go?”

  When we got back to the hotel, Evan opened the connecting doors so we could all watch TV in his and Annika’s room. After about an hour, we all got hungry again, so Evan went downstairs to the limo driver and asked him to go to a bar and pick us up some burgers and fries. The driver thought it was funny, and told Evan we were the best customers he’d ever had.

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  “Awesome!” Mitch breathed when the food finally arrived.

  “I’m starving,” Bryce sighed, throwing open a takeout box and shoving fries into his mouth. Annika had ordered a hamburger, too, saying she had had enough lettuce for the day.

  “Yo
u guys want anything else?” Evan asked, already halfway through his burger. “Room service is 24/7, and they have really good ice cream.”

  “I love ice cream!” Annika cried through a mouthful of French fries. Evan laughed and called room service.

  Ten minutes later, a bellboy knocked on the door and I opened it. He pushed a freezer cart through the door and stopped it right by the TV, then smiled and left. Inside were ice cream bars, tubs of Ben and Jerry’s, and popsicles.

  “Okay,” I said, “it’s official. Evan’s parents are cooler than Sam’s.”

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  Samantha Steele

  At three o’clock in the morning, as we were digging into tubs of chocolate-peanut butter ice cream, Evan got a call from his dad.

  “Sure, see you tomorrow,” he said, hanging up. He turned to us. “That was my dad. He said Joan Jett is in the honeymoon suite just above us, and she’s willing to give us an hour if we go up there right now.”

  I dropped my spoon back into the ice cream tub (which was now empty) and ran into mine and Mitch’s room. I grabbed a pair of jeans and a Cheap Trick t-shirt and ran into the bathroom to change.

  Looking in the mirror, I was disgusted. My hair was scraggly and greasy looking, my skin was shiny with dried sweat, and my make-up looked a little smudged. Shivering, I brushed out my hair so the curls turned into loose waves and wiped an oil-absorbing pad across my face. I used a little lotion and a cotton swab to clean up my eyes.

  When I came back into Evan and Anni’s room, everyone else was in jeans and tshirts, too. Mitch took my hand and we all got into the elevator.

  “Why are you so excited?” Mitch asked. “You already sang a song with her.”

  “Yeah, but now I get pictures with her!” I squealed.

  Mitch laughed and shook his digital camera at me.

  “You think I didn’t take pictures at prom?”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling stupid. The elevator doors opened and we walked down the hall to room 2525: the honeymoon suite.

  Evan knocked on the door and Joan Jett opened it, a lopsided grin on her face.

  “Come in, kiddies!” she cried, throwing open the door and inviting us inside. The rest of the band was lounged on couches and chairs, eating and drinking. “Thirsty?” Joan asked, gesturing towards the open bar.

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  For the fourth time that night, my girls and I got totally (illegally) smashed. Cami couldn’t stand up without falling and giggling like crazy, and Annika was passed out in Evan’s lap.

  Joan found a twister mat in the closet (I didn’t want to know how it got there), and Bryce and Cami started playing while I attempted to have a conversation with my favorite rock star.

  “If they ever make a movie about you,” I said, my voice breathy (I was trying to keep from slurring), “I want to play you.

  You are, like, my idol. You are so successful and I want to make an impact like you did, with The Runaways?”

  “Well, if you want to make an impact, Sammy, you need to get sober,” Joan laughed. “Being drunk and high sure was fun, but it didn’t exactly do wonders for the band. Learn from my mistakes. All that partying gave me wrinkles.”

  “Just get a facelift!” I laughed, throwing my hands in the air. I couldn’t hold my voice though, so it sounded more like,

  “Jezz getta faze liff!” Joan laughed and helped me stand up. “Oh no, I tired.”

  “I got her,” I heard Mitch say. His cozy arms wrapped around me and I realized I wasn’t on the ground anymore. “Come on, boozy.”

  “You’re such a good boyfriend,” I sighed, closing my eyes and resting my head on his shoulder. I heard Annika mumbling “Five more minutes” as Evan woke her up, and Bryce and Cami stumbled and giggled all the way back to their room.

  I woke up earlier that morning when I heard a door open.

  I opened my eyes to see the door to the hallway ajar.

  “Mitch?” I called. I heard a shuffling noise in the hallway and closed my eyes again, assuming he’d gone to get ice or coffee or something. I heard his footsteps come closer and I felt him in front of me, so I reached out my hand to pull him into bed with me. “I love you,” I mumbled.

  “I’ll love you when you’re dead,” he answered.

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  My eyes flew open and my heart started pounding like it used to whenever Zac was around. I just barely had time to see the light glint off the knife before it was embedded in my throat.

  “What the fuck?” Mitch yelled. I felt the bed move as Mitch jumped over me and tackled my killer.

  Choking and struggling to breathe, I wrapped my right hand around the knife and compressed the skin around the blade with my left. I tried desperately to suck in air, blood gurgling in my trachea. I almost pulled the knife out of my throat, desperate for the pain to stop, but for some reason an episode of Angel popped into my head. In the episode, a group of vampires attacked a house and a girl got a piece of glass stuck in her neck.

  She pulled the glass out and ended up bleeding to death, and Cordelia said if she hadn’t pulled the glass out, she might have lived.

  So I just struggled to sit up, trying to raise my neck above my heart, and tried not to bump the knife while I gently coughed up blood.

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  Jacob Fastner

  After I knocked Macy out, I dragged her into the alley behind the hotel and hid her behind a Dumpster, lucky beyond all reason that nobody saw me. I wasn’t really sure what to do with her. Sam was really the only person I wanted to kill, but now that Macy knew, I couldn’t let her live. Could I?

  I had brought duct tape for killing Sam, so I used some to tie Macy’s wrists and ankles together and tape her mouth shut.

  “There. That should keep you quiet,” I said, making sure she was secure. I went back to the valet stand and called my mom.

  “Hi, sweetie,” she said. “Is your shift over?”

  “Uh, no,” I lied. “The other valets got sick so I offered to take over. I have some friends staying at the Whitmeister tonight, so I’ll just crash with them if that’s okay?”

  “Sure, honey. Just call me if you need a ride.”

  “Will do.” I hung up just as the valet for the next shift showed up. “See you later,” I said, waving goodbye.

  I clicked the unlock button on Macy’s keys until I heard the honking and saw the lights coming off a purple Jeep Cherokee. I felt a little weird driving a purple car, but it smelled like lavender and really put me in the mood for taking a life. Or two.

  I pulled the car around back of the hotel and drug Macy into the backseat. She was still knocked out, and although she’s very light, apparently I’m really weak because it took me almost thirty minutes to get her halfway across the alley.

  Panting and sweating, I climbed into the front seat and started the engine. I drove to the Whitmeister, but decided it would be better to park a block or two away. I ended up parking in front of the mall because it was difficult to find street parking. I forgot my wallet at home, so a parking garage was out of the question. Since it was the weekend, street parking was free.

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  I started to walk towards the hotel, but I remembered Macy in the backseat. I shoved her onto the floor and put a blanket over her, checking to make sure the duct tape was still tight.

  I made my way to the hotel with a black duffel bag containing rope, duct tape, two knives, and the pistol my dad keeps in his desk drawer and thinks I don’t know about. As I got closer, I started to get excited, but reminded myself not to get cocky. I walked into the hotel lobby, put a sloppy grin on my face, and went up to the front desk.

  “Hey,” I said slowly, acting a little drunk. “I gotta give this bag back to my friend. Evan Cage? You know what room he’s in?” The girl at behind the counter typed on her computer.

  “Mr. Whitmeister reserved three rooms for his
son,” she said with a smile. “He should be staying in either 2424, 2425, or 2426. How was prom?”

  “Oh, it was great,” I said. “Thanks.” Damn, that was easy.

  I didn’t know Evan’s dad was John Whitmeister! Better avoid killing him, I thought. I got into the elevator and bobbed my head to the piano music playing inside. It took me a minute to figure out all the twists and turns, but eventually I found the three rooms.

  Listening at the door to 2424, I heard Cami’s distinct voice saying, “How much you wanna bet Sam and Mitch passed out while doing it? She was completely wasted! Joan had to help her stand up.”

  “You were completely wasted, too,” Bryce said with a laugh. I grinned smugly, hoping Sam was still out of it. It would be much easier to kill her if she was asleep, or at least drunk.

  I moved over to the next door, 2425. I heard the TV

  blaring, but I couldn’t hear any voices. If I walked in and this was Evan and Anni’s room, I’d have a tough time explaining. So I waited for ten minutes until I heard a voice.

  “Anni, you asleep?” Evan called.

  “Sort of,” she called back. Grinning, I moved onto the last room, 2426, and listened at the door for twenty minutes until I

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  was positive that the occupants were asleep. Carefully unzipping my bag, I glanced down the halls to make sure I was alone. Then I slid the knife out and gripped it excitedly.

  I slid my bag against the wall by the door hinge and stood flat against it. Then I knocked, loudly. A grumbling noise came from inside, and then Mitch opened the door. I looked through the crack between the door and the frame and was surprised to see he was wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants. He looked right and left, unable to see me behind the door. Then he muttered something and walked back into the room.

  As fast as I could, I ran around the front of the door and slid my knife between it and the frame, praying Mitch wouldn’t turn to make sure it closed all the way. He didn’t.

  I waited another thirty minutes (it was now five in the morning) to make sure Mitch had gone back to sleep. Then I slowly opened the door and walked into the room.

  “Mitch?” Sam called. I didn’t reply, and neither did Mitch. I walked closer, and she reached out to grab me. “I love you,” she mumbled.