Where the Staircase Ends (5 page)

“I figure we’ll do a quick perimeter scout for Justin and his friends,” I said in answer to Sunny’s question. “Once we find him, I’ll accidentally bump into him and act super shocked to see him there.” I placed my hands over my mouth and widened my eyes to demonstrate my faux “OMG, what are you doing here?” face.

Sunny laughed and passed me her cigarette, this time free from lip gloss slime. “You should ask him to give you a light. Any time a guy lights your cigarette it’s an easy excuse to touch his hand and give him the sex glare.” She touched my hand and gave me her own version of a smoldering stare, lowering her chin so she could look up at me through her lashes. I doubted I could achieve the same combination of sexy and wicked, but it was a decent trick to keep in my back pocket.

“Yeah, that’s good.” I agreed, flipping down the vanity mirror so I could check my makeup for the fiftieth time.

Sunny passed me the drink again, but I shook my head, too nervous to put anything in my stomach. Instead I leaned my head against the window and watched as the city swam into focus, the approaching lights a welcome distraction from the two competing voices heatedly arguing inside my head.

Justin likes you! He has to, otherwise why does he keep looking at you that way?

No he doesn’t, you delusional idiot. He would’ve said something by now if he did.

At least the night would hopefully give me some closure. Justin may have given me mixed signals inside school walls, but I was determined to wade through the ambiguity and get to the bottom of the riddle, even if I had to throw myself at him to finally get an answer.

* * *

We arrived at the club as the opening act finished their set. The space was smaller than I expected, with a single standing-room-only section in the front and a smattering of small cocktail tables shoved against the back wall. Most people were milling near the stage or the bar, their faces hazy behind the thick cloud of smoke hovering in the air like morning mist.

“I’m going to the bathroom to wipe this hideous thing off,” Sunny said, showing me the thick black X the bouncer scrawled on her hand. “Do you want to come with me, or do you want to make the rounds for Justin?”

I surveyed the crowd, trying to spot his lean silhouette among the bodies gathering near the stage. Most of the people there were notably older, which gave me hope he’d be easy to identify among the throng of men and women who looked like they’d popped out of a different decade.

“I’ll do a quick once around and then meet you in there.”

Sunny headed toward the neon sign pointing to the ladies’ room while I slunk my way through the crowd, attempting to look like I belonged. The space was dark, and the black painted walls only added to the dim, grungy feel. In between the swaths of black paint, old concert posters hung crooked around the room, some of them glowing against the black lights mounted on the ceiling.

Onstage, the crew swapped out the opening act’s instruments for the headliner’s, a piercing
thump, thump, thump
cutting through the din of chatter as someone sound-checked the drums and mics. I scanned the swell of people, spotted a baseball-capped head hovering near the front of the stage, and felt my heart catch in my throat. He was the same height and build as Justin Cobb.

“Excuse me,” I mumbled, pushing my way through a group of burly-looking men sporting Grateful Dead T-shirts to get to who I hoped was Justin Cobb. His back was toward me, a black shirt stretching across a taut set of shoulders.

I put on the warmest smile I could manage and stuck my chest out just enough to get noticed.

“Hey! I thought that might be you—”

My smile disappeared when the mustached face of a man in his late twenties turned around in response to the hand I placed on his back. His eyes dropped down to my chest and his mustache tipped up in a Chester-the-Molester smile, revealing crooked yellow teeth and a piece of something resembling corn stuck to his right incisor. His eyes, still glaring greedily at my chest, told me he wasn’t the kind of guy who asked for permission.

I ran toward the women’s restroom before I could hear whatever pervy words he was about to say to me, shame washing over me at the idea that I mistook
him
for my Justin.

“He might as well have tattooed this Goddamned thing onto my hand,” Sunny said when she caught sight of me standing behind her in the grimy bathroom mirror. “Since when did being underage make you a leper?” She paused to examine the top of her hand, the skin red and raw from her vigorous attempts to scrub away the X. “No luck finding Justin, huh?”

I shook my head and joined her at the sink to start working on my own X, scrubbing until it faded from dark black to a muted gray. I didn’t think I could get much more of it off without removing a layer of skin. “He’s probably waiting until the main band comes on.”

“I think I got it all.” Sunny proudly displayed her angry pink skin in triumph. “You want to come to the bar with me so we can get someone to buy us shots?”

I shrugged, not feeling like doing much of anything until I found Justin. But at least it would kill time until then.

We headed for the bar, and I broke away for an empty cocktail table so I could keep an eye on the entrance. In typical Sunny fashion, she commandeered two shots and several admirers after only twenty minutes. I watched in awe as a circle of guys danced around her like moths circling a flame, each fighting to get closer to her as she tossed her hair and grinned back at them mischievously.

The band took their places on stage, announcing the start of the show with a few screeching guitar chords as they launched into their first song. When I turned back toward the entrance, I saw Justin’s friends making their way inside the club.

“Give me a cigarette,” I said to Sunny after pushing my way through the circle of guys orbiting around her.

“Jeez, bossy. How about at least saying ‘please?’” She handed me one of her Camels, and I noticed she teetered a bit on her stool. “Did you find him or what?”

“I saw Mark Schroen, Greg Younger, and some other guys from school come in a few minutes ago. He’s got to be with them.”

Sunny made a face when I mentioned Mark Schroen. She would never refer to him as her ex-boyfriend, but it was obvious from the way she glanced at him in the hallways that their so-called summer fling was more than a fling.

“Ugh, don’t talk to that douche. He’s about as interesting as a bag of rocks.” She waved her hand dismissively, sliding off the stool as she did.

“Maybe you should lay off the shots for a while. You have to drive me home.”

“Maybe you should spend less time bossing me and more time stalking your prey, stalker.” She looked at one of her admirers and fake-whispered into his ear while pointing at me, “She’s a total stalker.”

“Seriously, Sunny,” I said after listening to the way she slurred out the word
stalker
. I didn’t want it to be another one of those nights. “Cool it on the drinks for a bit.”

“Who died and turned you into Alana James?” she said, referencing one of her favorite classmates to torment. Alana was harmless, but therein laid the dig. I was not in the mood to be compared to someone Sunny thought of as boring. My face must have looked stricken, because Sunny flipped her hair back and gave me an encouraging smile. “Don’t forget that cigarette move I taught you. Gets the boys every time.”

The unlit cigarette was perched in my fingers as I made my way through the crowd. My plan was simple: bump into Justin, ask him for a light, and execute the Sunny sex-glare. But when I got to where the guys from my school were standing, Justin was nowhere to be found.

“Hey, Taylor!” Mark Schroen shouted to me over the music. “What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same question!” I shouted back, not wanting to give away the truth—I overheard him talking to Justin about their plans to come to the concert. “I came with Sunny,” I added, so he would know I wasn’t alone. He followed my gaze to the bar and rolled his eyes when he caught sight of her whispering into the ear of one of her potential suitors.

“Need a light?” Someone's breath touched my neck, and I turned to see Logan Emery standing inches away from me with a lighter in his outstretched hand.

I stared at him for a moment, completely at a loss for words. I hadn’t seen him outside of school since before his brother’s accident. It was like seeing a ghost.

“Um, well, I, um … sure,” I finally said, not able to come up with a valid way to explain why I was holding an unlit cigarette if I didn’t want a light. If I’d been quicker on my feet I could have slipped the cigarette behind my ear and claimed to be saving it for later. Instead, I blew my chance at sex-glaring Justin because I was too shocked at Logan’s appearance to think straight.

He clicked the lighter to life, and I bent over the flame, gently touching his hand to steady it.

“Thanks.” I tipped my head up as I exhaled so I wouldn’t blow smoke in his face. “You haven’t by any chance seen Justin Cobb, have you?” I wouldn’t dare ask Mark the question, but I didn’t think Logan and Justin were good friends, making him the least risky interrogation option.

He shook his head. “Why, are you guys supposed to meet up or something?”

“No!” There was more force behind my voice then I intended. “I mean, no,” I repeated more softly. “He mentioned he might come, so I was curious if he came with you guys. That’s all.”

“You’re in my Spanish class,” he said after studying me for a few moments, his mouth closer to my ear than I was comfortable with. I nodded and faced the stage, not sure what else to say to him. “You’re pretty good. It’s my second time taking the class, and I still can’t manage to conjugate my verbs.”

I blinked a few times, surprised by his open admission to being held back a year. I picked at my nail polish and offered him my cigarette.

“Thanks.” His fingers brushed against mine as he took it from me. “It’s okay if you want to ask about it. Everyone else does.”

I turned to look at him, watching the way the stage lights danced across his face, changing from blue to red to yellow and back again. He was out in public on a Friday night, so he must be doing better. But there was still something sad hiding behind his gray eyes.

“Do you miss him?” I asked.

“Yeah. Every day.” His voice was flat, but he offered me a small smile. “I didn’t really want to come back to school after it happened. I was really angry, you know? I was pissed at myself for letting him get behind the wheel of his car, and pissed that the universe was screwed up enough to take away my brother. But I’m better now. I still miss him, but I’m better.”

We watched the band in silence for a while, mostly because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

I couldn’t remember what Logan had been like before the accident—he was a year ahead of me, so our paths rarely crossed—but I couldn’t forget what he was like after. I’d witnessed a few of his infamous hallway scuffles before he was finally suspended from school. Sometimes all it took was a sideways glance from someone and he’d launch into an attack, slamming bodies against lockers or pummeling people with his fists. But seeing him now, his face relaxed and thoughtful, it was hard to imagine the temper-filled version of him from the previous year.

Not that anyone could blame him for being angry.

Logan and his brother were only a year apart from each other, so they must have been really close. And what happened was horrible. Logan was at the party with his brother that night, and according to the rumors, he let his brother drive home—even though he was clearly wasted—so that Logan could hang out with some senior chick. They say his brother barely made it five blocks before he wrapped his car around a telephone pole.

We stood toward the back of the swaying crowd where there was more space, but Logan still inched his way toward me until his arm touched mine. His skin was warm, and the soft hairs of his forearms tickled as he bobbed his head to the music.

You’re supposed to be looking for Justin
, a small voice reminded me, but the music and the warmth of Logan’s skin kept me rooted in place. I let the voice melt into the melody for a few more songs. I wanted to complete my Justin mission, but I enjoyed the content feeling I had standing so close to Logan.

“You might want to take Sunny home.” Mark sidled up next to me as the band completed another song to a surge of shouts and whistles. He jutted his chin in the direction of the barstool Sunny was perched on. “She looks pretty toasted.”

I let out a groan when I saw her. Her head lolled back and forth, and she leaned against the mustached pervert I previously mistook for Justin. His hands were wrapped around her waist, and even from across the club I could tell his pervy eyes sized her up like she was a prime piece of steak.

Not again.

I offered Mark an annoyed “Thanks” before heading over to the bar to rescue her. The spot where Logan’s arm met mine still tingled from the contact.

“Let her go. I can take it from here,” I said to the mustached molester. He laughed, exposing his jagged yellow teeth like they were a prize. I shoved his hands off her and maneuvered Sunny away, shooting a poisonous look at the mustached creep and all of the other men at the bar waiting for an opportunity to pounce on her.

“Heeeya, Taylor!” Sunny slurred, her eyes struggling to focus on my face. “Where ya been hiding?” She stumbled against me, so drunk she couldn’t stand in one place. “Didja find Justin? Were you
justin
time to find Justin?” She laughed at her joke, shooting a string of spittle across her chin. “Can we go now? This band sucks. It sounds like shitty Halloween music. WooOOOOoooOOO.” She wiggled her fingers in front of her in an effort to look spooky and slipped out of my grasp, stumbling backward.

“Here, let me help you.” Logan walked toward us and slung Sunny’s arm over his shoulder.

“Heeeya. I know you. You’re that guy whoz brother died.” Sunny darted a finger toward Logan’s face and brushed it along the edge of his jaw. “I remember him 'cause he was really cute. Didn’t you try to kill yourself afterwards or something like that?”