“One rum and coke for the lady,” He yells over the music, then turns to me. “That’s what you like, right? I’ve seen you drink it a bunch.”
“Yessir,” I nod. “But you don’t have to buy me anything, I’m a strong, independent –”
He shoves the chilled glass in my hand and slides a five across the counter to the bartender. I swirl it a bit, checking for dense foam that would indicate a dissolved pill. I mean, I trust the bartender, and Kieran. Sort of. But you can never be too careful. I sip slowly, and we stand like that, watching the writhing masses in short skirts and button-down t-shirts grind on each other. Tessa is dancing with Ulfric, still a little shy but smiling more now. Livy is grinding on some Italian-looking guy four years too old for her. The smell of sweat and cologne practically chokes the air. Strobe lights pierce our eyes and poke holes in our patience for Top 40 music.
“Is this just…” I pause and listen to the speakers. “Is this just someone saying ‘ass’ on repeat?”
Kieran stops, looks up, and starts laughing. “Holy shit, you’re right. What’s happened to music?”
“Money,” I say. “Money happened. But personally, I blame spandex and autotune and Yoko Ono.”
He laughs. Livy detaches her ass from Italian-guy’s crotch long enough to walk over to us, breathless and smiling.
“Hey, you guys. Come over here.”
We follow, curious, as she leads us to the bathroom hallway, covered in graffiti and bits of toilet paper. Livy pulls something out from her bra. She presses one into Kieran’s hand, then mine. It’s a small white pill shaped like a playboy bunny.
Kieran quirks an eyebrow. “Where’d you get these?”
“Heather, duh.” Livy huffs. “She was practically handing them out like candy at the house.”
“Is this what I think it is?” I ask.
“Molly?” Livy asks.
“Illegal?” I stress.
“Chill,” Livy rolls her eyes. “It’s just one tab. It’s not gonna kill you. And Heather always buys from a reliable guy, so nothing weird’s in it.”
Kieran pushes it back at her. “I-I can’t. I’m DD tonight.”
“It’s in and out of your system really fast,” She insists. “Like, way less time than booze.”
“Seeing giant red elephant monsters isn’t my idea of a good time.” I glare at it, but Livy smiles and pats me on the shoulder.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s not a hallucinogen. It’s really safe, I promise. I’ve done it a hundred times.”
I stare at the white pill. Nameless’ ugly words rear their head in my head.
‘Someone like that would never want someone like you.’
‘…he put you back in your place.’
“And maybe he just doesn’t want to fuck a ruined girl.’
‘No one else is going to want you.’
‘No one else is going to want you.’
I put the pill on my tongue and chug the last sip of my coke, drowning the words in their tracks. Kieran swallows his, too. I head to the dancefloor and wait to die. Or have a good time. Whichever comes first. Kieran shadows behind me, dancing with me, and even if he’s a little stiff in the legs and too white-guyish in the sense all he does is rock a little on his feet, I still catch myself smiling. Life’s been shitty, but dancing has always been good to me, for me. I can just drift, and think about nothing and everything with the music keeping the darkness at bay.
I didn’t know Heather bought drugs. I didn’t know she supplied them to frat parties, either. On the ladder of Bad Things To Do, that’s nearly drug-dealer level status. Or is it? I don’t know shit about drugs, and even less about the people who deal them. I just know a lot of people take them, and more power to those people, but they’re dangerous. Then again, I’ve been drinking nearly every day since that night at the centaur fountain, so who am I to judge? Who am I to get angry? I’m drinking away the pain, and that hasn’t been working. So I have to try something else. No danger is as bad as the things waiting for me in my own memories.
The bright strobe lights get brighter, more colorful, greens turning into red-blue, two colors at once. I blink, but the colors keep fracturing. They flash off girl’s makeup and jewelry, spots of gemstone color burning pleasantly onto my eyelids. Everyone looks so happy, so nice, so kind. No one will hurt me, here. I’m surrounded by good people. The darkness can’t get me, here.
Kieran smiles when I smile at him, and that’s a good sign, and he’s much more handsome than I thought before – sort of swarthy, pirate swarthy, Jack Sparrow swarthy (we don’t speak that name), dark and big-shouldered and he could protect me from the darkness, couldn’t he? Someone as strong as him could fight off anything, protect me from anything. I tried to protect myself for all this time but it was so hard. I’m so tired of doing it all alone. It would be nice to have some help. Kieran could help. Jack didn’t want to help anymore, which is okay, because I’m hard, and not really worth all that effort, even if he was the only one who touched me in the good way where my heart peeked out of its shell, but it was stupid, I was so stupid for thinking -
‘No one else is going to want you.’
I wince, and lurch for Kieran, hugging him around the waist. He stops dancing.
“Isis?” He shouts. “Are you okay?”
“I’m…I’m…I’m not okay,” I laugh. “I’m not. I’m just not.”
“Hey, whoa, okay. Let’s get you some air.”
I hang on to Kieran’s arm as he guides me through the crowd and out to the front of the club. I shoot a look at the bouncer as we pass.
“I’m not thirty-three,” I blurt.
“I know,” he rolls his eyes.
Kieran eases me onto the steps. I shiver when my eyes catch on the lit-tip cigarette ends of a smoking circle of people. Kieran sees it and moves us away from the circle, further down the curb. I gasp for air, choking on nothing and everything at the same time. Kieran waits patiently, staring at the star-studded sky. When the pressure is a little less and the world isn’t so bright, I form words.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “You should go…back in and have fun. This is not fun. This is me dying.”
“You’re not dying,” He laughs.
“Yeah I am. A little faster than most people.”
Kieran’s face is blank, but Sophia’s words ring in my head, a welcome relief from Nameless. Where his sound is the bark of a mad dog tearing my throat out, she’s all crystal bells and raindrops.
No wonder Jack loved her.
No wonder Jack broke when he lost her.
No wonder he doesn’t want anyone else ever again. No one else can compare.
I laugh, but the laugh turns into something weird and I start biting my arm to make it stop. Kieran pulls my arm away from my mouth, and I see the ring of darker red on my shirt sleeve but only faintly.
“You’re really freaking me out, Isis.” He says softly.
“I freak a lot of people out. I’m freaky. Halloweentown loves me. But nobody else does. Except my Mom. My mom’s great and I left her behind and I’m selfish.”
Kieran is silent. I feel the darkness start ebbing away, the streetlights bright and swollen like giant amber fireflies.
“There’s a guy,” I say, and laugh. “But that’s the story with every girl, isn’t it? There’s always a guy. Some guy. Some guy who hasn’t done something. And I like him.”
“If you like him, just go up and kiss him,” Kieran says.
“You do not know how things work very well, do you.”
Kieran laughs, and I clutch my head and lean on his shoulder. The night is too dark and he is too warm and I need someone, something solid beneath me. Someone to keep me from disappearing into the shadow-half of my life. Or maybe it’s too late. Maybe I’ve already disappeared, and the darkness will be here always with only brief flashes of light, instead of the other way around.
“Do you like me?” I ask Kieran. It’s forward but I’m nothing if not forward and stupid.
/> Kieran coughs. “Well…uh…”
“It’s a yes or no question.”
“Yeah,” He says. “I do.”
‘No one else is going to want you.’
“Do you want me?” I press my chest into his shoulder like I saw Hemorrhoid do to Jack. Kieran clears his throat.
“Yeah. I mean, ever since we made out, I –”
I lean up and kiss him, and he kisses back with a soft, fierce edge to it. It’s not Jack. It’s never Jack, but it will never be Jack again, and I don’t want to cry so I kiss harder, and longer, and Kieran’s hand slithers up my shirt and I let it –
“You!”
I look up to see Charlie Moriyama pointing accusingly at me. And behind him is the one person I really didn’t need to see tonight, or ever again.
***
“How do you listen to this crap?” Charlie snarls, turning my opera music off.
“I take it you aren’t a fan of fat Italian men singing their hearts out over a woman?”
Charlie runs a hand through his spiked hair, re-arranging it. “If I wanted to listen to assholes complain about bitches, I’d listen to Biggie Smalls. Or Nas.”
“Ah, yes, because referring to women as ‘bitches’ will get you very far with them in life,” I say, and take a left turn at the stoplight.
“I don’t care about bitches, okay? They’re all whiny, and they want your money and they want you to dress nice and pick them up ice cream and fat rings and I’m done with it. Just gonna focus on hustling for my mansion, and then I’ll buy me some bitches.”
“You won’t buy bitches, or a mansion. You’ll buy a house for your grandmother.”
Charlie shoots me a sharp look, going red on the edges. “What kind of stupid shit is coming out of your mouth now? I swear you get dumber every day.”
I park in front of a seedy club called The Back Door. I can hardly bring myself to lash out at him with my usual ice. He’s so pathetic, so soft on the inside and trying so hard on the outside.
He reminds me of someone.
“Well,” I muster. “Hopefully you’re getting smarter, because one of us has to be coherent enough to interrogate the club’s owner.”
Charlie just grumbles, pulling a pair of brass knuckles on under his sleeve. I set my phone to record at the push of a button, in order to get hard evidence on tape.
“The owner will be reluctant to talk,” I say. “His name is Terrance.”
“I don’t give a shit what his name is, let’s just beat the hell out of him.”
“No one beats anything,” I make my words steel, permafrost. “Terrance is a businessman. He’s easily persuaded in a number of logical ways I’d be more than happy to enlighten you with.”
Charlie groans. “I don’t care. Let’s just do this. You can chat his ass up all you want, but if we ain’t getting anywhere with that, I’m moving to plan B - Beatdown.”
“The threat of a beatdown is often more effective than a beatdown itself, when the target has never been beaten before. Someone soft and rich like Terrance will cave without a single punch.” I get out. He follows suit, a thoughtful look coming over his face.
“You might actually be right for once.” Charlie flashes his ID, and I do the same. The bouncer waves us through. “How’re you and Brittany doing, by the way?”
“Fine,” I respond automatically. “She’s very insistent.”
I don’t tell him she is a thing, a means to an end. A puppet stand-in I mentally paste over with forbidden memories of a girl I gave up for good.
“Is that what you call it?” Charlie barks a laugh, and we weave through the edges of the club crowd. “She’s banging down our door 24/7. She can barely hold herself back from jumping on your icicle dick before I’m out of the room.”
I shrug. Charlie studies me carefully.
“What was it you said you did before Gregory found you?” He asks. “Because I’ve seen ladies men, and even the best ones ain’t got girls salivating over them in broad daylight. What makes you so special?”
“I know how to treat women,” I say. “Step one – don’t call them bitches.”
“Unless they’re into that.” Charlie attempts to correct.
“Select few women are into degradation, and even then they only appreciate it in the bedroom. Never insult them out of it.”
As Charlie’s brain struggles to absorb this, I approach the VIP lounge door. It’s flanked by two bouncers. One of them puts a hand out to stop me.
“Who’re you?” He asks.
“Oy, step aside, step aside!” Charlie juts his chin. “We’re here on business.”
“Give me a name, or get out,” The bouncer insists.
“Jack Hunter,” I say. “We’re here to see Terrance. He’s expecting us.”
The bouncer turns away and touches his ear, speaking into an earpiece. After several seconds, he turns back and opens the door with his meaty hand. Charlie salutes him as he walks in, and I slide in soundlessly. The music dulls, champagne cooling in an ice bucket on the black glass table. The couches are leather – real and shining sleekly under the lights. Another two bouncers sit on them, drinking champagne and typing away on their cellphones. They are huge and beefy, but it’s nothing Charlie can’t handle with an element of surprise – he’s a furious Tasmanian devil in a fight, and all I ever have to do is mop up the pieces.
They look up when we come in, and pat us down quickly. Charlie complains, but I silence him with a look as another man walks in and sits down. His pinstripe suit is impeccable – though he’s fat, it fits him very well. His hair is thin and gray and balding on the very top, his eyes watery and his skin a nut-brown from obsessive tanning sessions. Dozens of rings stack on his fingers – real gems, as far as I can tell. Clear, no flaws. This man is very rich, and very well-connected.
“Gentlemen!” Terrance smiles, sweeping his hands out and offering one to me. “Welcome to my humble abode. Glad you could make it on such short notice.”
“It’s good to be here,” I say, and shake his hand. We sit, and Terrance starts pouring champagne.
“Need a drink?”
“We’ll pass, thank you,” I insist. “We wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time than is necessary.”
Terrance raises an eyebrow, then laughs a full belly laugh. “Concise and ready to get down and dirty right away. I like that in a man. You rarely see that kind of single-minded dedication in your generation these days.”
Terrance drains his glass, then claps his hands.
“Alright, so what’s your offer? I’ve already got guys on campus giving me cuts on MDMA. What do you think you have that’s better, huh?”
“Information,” I say.
“Yeah? You know somebody better?”
“First, I’d like you to fulfill your end of the bargain,” I say. “The names, if you will.”
“Oh, see,” Terrance clicks his tongue. “I can’t just do that without any assurance I’m gonna be getting something good. It’s not right. I like those guys. Giving them up for shitty info would go against my business practices.”
“Listen, buddy –” Charlie snaps. The bouncers lean in suddenly, and I put my hand across Charlie’s chest to stop him.
“Terrance,” I stare into his eyes. “Your business prowess is formidable. Gregory has told us much about you, but this excellent club tells us more. You’re very good at what you do.”
Terrance relaxes, and his bodyguards relax with him.
“I am. Thank you. Always good to get a little recognition where it’s deserved.”
“So I know that a businessman as skilled as yourself is very keen on gaining assets, not losing them.”
Terrance narrows his eyes. “Go on.”
“There are some people who have suddenly become very interested in your guys.”
His eyes flash, and his fist tightens, but he keeps his voice cool and level. A true professional.
“Yeah? How important are these people we’re talking about, h
ere?”
I smile. “I’m so sorry, Terrance. But without names, that’s all I can tell you.”
I watch the clockwork wheels sync up in his mind – I’ve told him law enforcement is looking into his MDMA suppliers. These suppliers give him a huge cut in prices, and with a booming college town rave scene right here in his club, the profits are no doubt enormous. He’s weighing the potential loss of those guys – and the cut – against being implicated when said guys are apprehended by the authorities. But without knowing who exactly the authorities are, he is reluctant to give us the names and therefore lose the price cut. If it’s simply the local police, he could bribe them into impunity. But if it’s the less corruptible DEA - or even higher - he’d lose everything, not just the price cut.
“Bill,” Terrance finally spits. “I think one of them is named Bill, or Will, or something like that. His last name is complicated, C-something. Caraway? Carlsbad?”
“Cavana?” I try, feigning innocence.
“Cavanaugh, that’s it.” Terrance points. “Now, you tell me who’s after them, and I’ll give you the other name.”
“How do we know you won’t just tell them and they’ll split?” Charlie snarls. Terrance smiles at him like he’s a child.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I don’t deal with bugged associates. We cut all ties with the ones who are being investigated, for our own safety, you understand.”
Terrance looks back to me, and I lean in, lowering my voice with the lie that comes out.
“DEA. Cyber-crime ops. Your boys are part of a larger group on the internet black market. Hackers, mostly.”
Terrance nods, putting his fingers to his lips. “Hacking isn’t my thing – the internet isn’t my thing in general. I prefer to conduct business old school.”
“Which is why you’d do well to cut them off,” I say. “This is far bigger than club drugs. We’re talking meth. Human trafficking.”
Terrance inhales sharply through his teeth. “Damnit. I thought I’d found a straight pipe in those two. But they’re always a little more crooked than you’d like, aren’t they? I’m not going away for something like that. You’ve got your name – Kyle Morris. Easier to remember than the other one. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some phone calls to make.”