Chapter 14
For the briefest of moments, Brian couldn’t process the image of Rebecca swinging at the end of the rope. He didn’t accept that the gathered group offered some light applause and then continued chattering, laughing, and tinkling their ice-filled drinks. For that one tenth of a second, Rebecca’s much-earlier words rang in his head.
People always think they’re awake, even when they’re sleeping.
No.
Not even in the darkest, craziest region of his subconscious mind could he conjure a nightmare this horrific. The scene was real.
He sprang out of his chair, overturning the table and sending his drink crashing to the floor. Somehow, the clatter of breaking glass accomplished what Rebecca’s hanging failed to do. The audience quieted.
He rushed the stage.
Two hulking, shaved-headed bouncers grabbed his arms before he could get halfway up the stairs. “Are you crazy? You’ll ruin the show,” the bruiser on the left shouted.
“The recitals are about to start,” his buddy on the right added.
They hustled him toward an exit.
Brian twisted, kicked, got an arm free, and lashed out with it. “She’s hanging!”
“Who?”
He managed to break away and turn to the stage, but before he could take a step forward, Rebecca, the noose, and the chair shimmered.
And faded away.
The room swam. He collapsed into the waiting arms of the two bouncers.
A simple stage trick must have fooled him. Mirrors and lighting can work wonders.
He met the gazes of a few others in the club, but most looked away. The unspoken message couldn’t have been clearer. Beat it, and don’t come back.
A teenage girl took the stage, clutching a sheet of paper in her hands. She turned to the saner people still at their tables, people who didn’t randomly go berserk over nothing. “I’ve written a poem about unrequited love.”
The bouncers shoved Brian out a side door and slammed it behind him.
End of story? No. He’d messed up. Clearly. But he’d come looking for Rebecca, he’d seen her in there, and he wasn’t leaving without a chance to talk to her.
He hurried around front and back into the club.
Another bouncer folded his beefy arms and blocked the way to the seating area. “There ain’t no admittance after the show starts.”
“Wait. I already was admitted.” He pulled the ticket out of his pocket. “I’m just looking for one of the performers so I can—”
The man lifted Brian by the shirt and shoved him all the way back through the doorway. “The show ends in half an hour, pal. You wanna see one of the performers, go cool your heels in the parking lot till they come out.”
The door slammed in his face. He pushed on it. Locked. He pounded on it.
Yeah, like that would work.
He snatched the cell phone out of his pocket. But who could he possibly call—the cops? Officer, I imagined a suicide attempt, and the club invoked its discriminatory policy against hallucinating clowns.
His breath came out in hazy puffs. A fat raindrop chilled the back of his neck. If he had to wait a half hour for Rebecca, sitting in an idling car with its heater on would beat standing outside and freezing.
Back at his Kia, wind flapped a flyer wedged under his wipers. He yanked it out.
Poetry Readings, Songs and Comedy at Club Intrigue! Opening night!
A shadow of handwriting bled through from the other side. He flipped it over.
The world isn’t what you think it is. Go home. I’ll find you there, later tonight. R
The wind caught the note and blew it out of his hands.