Outsider: The Flawed Series Book Two Page 5

  Alex sent a lingering glance his way, making the back of his neck go hot as he lumbered out of the room.

  ~

  Biff’s home was a pit. Broken bottles, cardboard pizza boxes, and used syringes were everywhere. Nic surveyed the mess, kicking debris around. It was amazing how little was salvageable. He glanced at the first aid kit, its contents strewn across the counter with the rest of the trash and half-eaten moldy food. He couldn’t believe he’d let this slob help him. He shuddered and blinked a few times. Nothing in the kit had helped ease the pain in his eyes. Fortunately, though, most of the effects of the spray had worn off within the hour, including the temporary blindness. He was flooded with relief that his eyes weren’t permanently damaged.

  Never again did he want to experience the burden of being nearly blind—his childhood had been pure hell.

  The years lived at the school for the deaf and blind were something he didn’t want to revisit—let alone the place itself. He’d vowed never to set foot in Florida again. The only memory worse was that of living with his parents and the powerlessness under his dad’s violent hand. But now he was the one with the power. He’d never be that pathetic, helpless little boy again.

  Nic strode through ankle-deep trash in the main room of the loft, giving the bunk bed only a passing glance. Biff’s lifeless body sagged on the floor against the side of the bed, the rope around his neck still draped above him. Nic had used one of the bed’s upper finials to hoist the body for the final few moments of the kill. Poor fool had been bent over, digging in the fridge for some grub, completely unsuspecting when Nic had thrown the rope over his neck and cinched it tight. The kill had been a last-minute decision, but Biff had demanded payment for his help, and there was no way that fool was getting any of Nic’s cash. He couldn’t believe how dumb Biff was. Of course, they were all trusting when it came to Nic’s magic eyes, but he hadn’t even needed their influence this time.

  Likely one of Biff’s suppliers would be the first to notice his disappearance. He was debt-prone, which was no doubt why he wanted the cash in the first place. When they came looking for their payment and found his body, they’d have to take care of it before the cops got wind. And that would leave Nic in the clear. Nice and tidy.

  Nic entered the dingy bathroom and flicked on the light switch with just a nail. The amount of germs likely to be festering here made his skin crawl. He stared at his face in the rusted medicine cabinet mirror. Pale gray-blue eyes stared back at him, and his wiry red hair was fuzzing into one hell of an afro. Smoothing it down with his hands, he stopped when something looked different. He frowned, leaning closer to better study his reflection. What was it? He widened his eyes, scrutinizing the patterns within each iris. His own black pupils shrank in the light, as if they were concealing their own mysteries from him.

  He blinked three times. His eyes were still sore. Unbidden, the memory of the young woman came flooding back, washing a fresh surge of rage over his body. She’d caught him and Maced him, and she needed to pay.

  What was she anyway, some sort of super-freak? His naturally quick reflexes were nothing next to her superhuman speed. He roared and grabbed the shower curtain rod, ripping it down from the wall. Holding it like a baseball bat, he smashed the mirror to bits, scattering glass shards everywhere. He threw the rod down and strode through the apartment. Without another glance at Biff’s hunched form, he left, slamming the door behind him.

  Nic didn’t know how or where he would find that bitch, but he would punish her, even if it was the last thing he did.

  Josh zoned into the television, trying to forget all that had happened earlier that day, but his mind refused to relax. Between the run-in with Bonnie and the mugging incident with Alex, he was mentally exhausted.

  Cam came home from Chloe and Alex’s apartment around eleven, barging through the door and plopping down on the sofa next to him.

  “Man, crazy about Alex, huh?” he said.

  “Mmm,” Josh said. He just wanted to be alone.

  “I mean, how crazy is it that we’ve met another person with some kinda freak ability?” He frowned as if pondering the idea for a moment. “It’d be way weirder though, if I hadn’t met that girl last month. Now everything makes more sense…”

  Josh vaguely wondered what Cam was talking about, but he wasn’t in the mood for conversation, and he had a feeling whatever was on his brother’s mind was a giant can of worms.

  Can continued. “It’s like when all the people on Smallville started getting weird powers and they were trying to figure out why it was all happening in some little Podunk Kansas town… But Alex’s ability is pretty cool. I’d give anything to run like that. And her hands—”

  Josh sighed and clicked off the television with the remote. “You really can’t handle silence, can you?”

  “Well, you’re in love with it. Come on man, how can you be quiet after a day like today? We find out about Alex’s secret power—”

  Josh turned to face his brother. “Power? I thought you were calling them glitches—flaws. You know, Chloe can’t feel pain. That’s not really a great thing.”

  “It depends on your outlook. In my opinion, that’s an awesome trait—you just have to be careful with it.”

  “Really? It seems like just yesterday you were warning Chloe not to get hurt.”

  “That’s Chloe. But what Alex can do, that’s freakin’ sweet. I don’t see a downside at all.”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty amazing,” Josh said in a flat monotone. It came off sarcastic, though he hadn’t meant it that way.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Cam asked.

  “Nothing. I can just tell you’re pretty into her.”

  “Into her ability, you mean.”

  “Psh.” A breath escaped Josh’s lips in a whoosh. “Right. And into her, too.”

  Cam shrugged. “She’s all right. I wouldn’t say I’m like interested in her or anything.”

  Josh raised an eyebrow. “Really? You seemed pretty enthusiastic today.”

  “About her super speed.”

  “That’s it?” Josh narrowed his eyes at Cam.

  “That’s it, bro.”

  “Well, why aren’t you into her, then?” Josh asked. Surely it made sense—the two of them together with their abilities—a superpower couple like Jade Edwards and Logan Henry. Apart from the whole online dating charade, Chloe seemed to be pushing for it. Josh guessed Alex wouldn’t mind, either. She was from California, so she probably went for the surfer type.

  Cam shrugged.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Josh realized his fists were clenched tightly.

  “Well…” Cam looked away. “She’s just not…my type.”

  Josh’s mouth fell open. “What, because she’s not a model or something? Is she too average-looking for your high standards?”

  “What? No! That’s not it at all.”

  “Then what? Why isn’t she good enough for you?”

  “Dude, lay off, will you? It’s not about her being good enough.”

  Josh arched a brow.

  “Maybe I just don’t want to jump into a relationship with someone right now.”

  Josh studied Cam, suddenly wondering if he’d underestimated his brother’s resiliency. Had the ladies’ man dated anyone since the breakup with Jade last summer? Josh wondered briefly about the girl Cam had mentioned. But surely he would’ve told Josh if he’d met someone. “You mean she’s no Jade Edwards?”

  “What? No, I’m over her.” But Cam reddened and started picking at a hole in his jeans.

  “Seen her much lately?”

  “No. We don’t have any classes together this semester. She’s all into her major courses and I’m still plugging away undecided.”

  “You don’t hang out or anything?”

  “Not really. She’ll stop by the gym to say hi every now and then, but I think she spends most of her time with Logan.”

  “So they are really together then?”

  “Ye
ah.”

  “You ever hear anything else on the Carlsbad Kidnapper?”

  “Nope. I’ve talked to the police off and on since then, but they still haven’t found anything. Went down to the station every week, in the beginning.”

  “Wow, I didn’t know that. You drove all the way to Carlsbad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, at least you’re in contact with them.”

  “I think me hanging around there annoys them more than anything. They haven’t had much luck with the artist renderings, though I swear the drawings are spot on. I saw him in the cave.”

  “It still seems bizarre to me what happened—I mean, Jade and Chloe getting kidnapped by some guy who can see in the dark…”

  “Yeah, well, it’s all becoming pretty normal to me at this point,” Cam said. “So what about you? Is Alex your type?”

  Josh looked away and shrugged. “I don’t know if I even have a type.” He crossed his arms and forced an aloof expression onto his face. “Besides, I don’t know if I even want a relationship right now.”

  “Sure.” Cam smirked. “You have your music and all. Whatever, dude. Someday you’ll realize how important having a woman is.”

  Josh sighed. “Right. Someday I’ll get tired of being alone.”

  ~

  When Josh walked into the music store the next day, a feeling of comfort enveloped him. It might not have been his desired long-term occupation, but it was his element. Even before getting the job, he’d been here almost every day admiring the expensive instruments, bonding with them like friends he knew so well that words weren’t necessary.

  It was relatively calm at the store, so once he’d clocked in he went to one of his favorite guitars. Its polished curves and beautiful finish were nothing less than sweet, and they called to him. He picked it up delicately, savoring the feel of it in his hands. Plucking a few strings, he twisted the knobs to tune it by ear. Satisfied with the sound, he began to play. He hadn’t planned on pouring out all his tension here, but once the guitar was in his grasp, there was no holding him back.

  Today out brought a new song, an original series of notes that had been dancing around his brain since last night. He tested the tune, tweaked a few chords, and crafted something deeply melancholy and wistful. In it was pain, but also hope for something greater. The melody poured out as he felt it, without the need for his brain to process technical details like where to put his hands. The sensations swept him away, carrying him to a place where feelings ruled and words didn’t matter.

  When he ended the song and opened his eyes, his manager, Colby, was standing nearby staring at him.

  Colby wore a stifled half-smirk. He cleared his throat. “Not bad. But you probably should get back to work now, don’t you think?”

  Mortification heated Josh’s face.

  “Yeah, sorry. You have something for me to do?”

  “Yeah. Need the shipment of drumsticks organized and put into their bins.”

  “Sure.”

  Colby started to walk off and then stopped, looking back at Josh. “I’ve never heard that song. An original?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you know—cashier number two writes his own stuff. But seriously, man, you got some talent there, you know? A lot more than most of these kids that come in to wreck the equipment. You should, like, be in a band or something.”

  Josh slumped off to do his work without a glance at Colby.

  When Josh had finished organizing the sticks, he went over to the bulletin board to check the want ads. He’d never had luck before, but what the heck. Might as well keep looking. He browsed the flyers for shows and requests for musicians. A handful of them were looking for guitarists, but nothing was quite right. Then he saw a flyer for a rock band called, Vicarious Jalapenos: “LOOKING FOR GUITARIST—MUST HAVE FIVE YEARS EXPERIENCE.” Weird name, but that one looked decently interesting.

  The thought of auditioning for a band didn’t thrill him. He’d gone to auditions in the past, and it was always so lame. Show up at someone’s garage, play a few minutes for some kids who didn’t know music from noise, and get the “don’t call us, we’ll call you” line.

  Besides, getting into a band was all about social politics. It was a popularity contest just like high school. Talent didn’t matter, who you were did.

  But he could use the opportunity—not to mention the extra cash. Maybe this band was his ticket to be something great. He ripped a tab with the phone number off the sheet and jammed it in his pocket. On his next break, he pulled it out and dialed the number with a shaking hand.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Guy?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  “My name’s Josh. I’m calling about the band opening. I saw a flyer here in the music sto—”

  “How much experience do you have?”

  “I’ve been playing for like eight years…”

  “What bands have you been in?”

  “Um… I haven’t exactly been in a band before.”

  “Sorry, man. We’re looking for someone who’s had experience playing in a band.”

  “But can’t I come audition or something?”

  “Nope. No audition if you don’t have experience.”

  “I just thought, maybe if you heard me play—”

  “Look, I don’t have time to mess around. Sorry, but I don’t know you, and I don’t have time to listen to every guitarist who calls.”

  Click.

  Josh’s shoulders slumped. So much for that.

  ~

  After enduring Biff’s disgusting place, Nic gave his entire apartment a scrub down with disinfectant. It didn’t matter that no one besides himself had been in the unit since he’d lived there or that he’d thoroughly cleaned the place from top to bottom three days ago. Just seeing the random fleck of dust here and there made his skin itch. He had to eradicate the filth.

  When Nic had cleaned every room of his sprawling apartment, he entered the wine cellar, which was really just a large pantry he’d adapted to his needs, installing a specialized refrigeration unit and updating the walls and ceiling with appropriate, insulated surfaces. He took a bottle from the first shelf and began wiping it down, eyeing the disappointing empty spots in his collection. Mr. Billings’s money had gone to replenish his stock of expensive wine, but the orders wouldn’t arrive for several days. Most of Mrs. Marshall’s check had gone to purchase crates of Cuban cigars. What money he had left would cover his meals for the next week or so, but he’d need to make another hit soon to fuel his passions. Nic never cooked in his sleek, modern kitchen, and the price of meals where he dined was pretty high.

  It had never been a problem, though. Nic always got what he wanted—just like this apartment that he hadn’t paid a dime for. All he had to do was work his magic on the landlord.

  While Nic systematically wiped and replaced each bottle, the face of the pepper spray girl bloomed in his mind, adding to the intensity of his scouring. Her grin flashed as if taunting him, and he grit his teeth. Alex. He’d heard the blonde call her that.

  When the last item in his collection—a rare bottle of Château Petrus—had been placed back in its slot, Nic sat down at the granite-topped bar in the center of the wine cellar and pulled open a small drawer. He removed a black notebook and flipped through it until he found the last entry. He crossed Mr. Billings’s name off the list and wrote Alex with a question mark on an empty line. How would he find this mysterious girl again?

  Her face was still flashing in his mind, making his pulse race and his head pound. He put a hand up to his temple. He needed a drink, and now seemed like as good a time as any to splurge. After pouring himself a glass of Le Pin, he turned back to the notebook, circling the name. He needed a last name to start looking for where she lived or where she worked.

  After a second glass of wine, Nic corked the bottle and replaced it for later. In the meantime, he needed to get back to work. His finger trailed up the page of the notebook a
nd stopped on one of the few names he hadn’t crossed off. Mrs. Brody. He glanced at his watch—the Excalibur Quatour timepiece by Roger Dubuis he’d purchased last month—and nodded with satisfaction. He knew just where to find her—it was almost time for her weekly visit to the casino. But he’d catch her first.

  After work the following Monday, Josh went over to Alex and Chloe’s apartment to hang out with his sister. While Alex had plans and would be out, he and Chloe were going to dust off the old-school game box and battle it out, retro-style. He was actually looking forward to it. He didn’t know what that said about him, but it was probably pretty pathetic for a single dude to prefer hanging with his sister over browsing the bars for a hot date.

  He opened the door and found Alex in the living room with a guy he didn’t know. Scrawny with dishwater-blond hair, the guy was dressed in skinny jeans and a v-neck top that revealed just how little muscle definition he had—or chest hair for that matter. Josh’s focus was drawn to the rectangular black case in his hand. He must be a musician.

  “Hi, Josh, what are you doing here?” Alex asked.

  “Hanging with Chloe,” he said, just as his sister walked in from the other room.

  Alex gestured at the guy next to her. “Chloe and Josh, this is Guy. He’s our bass player.”

  “We met the other day when you were out,” Chloe said.

  “Oh, right,” Alex said.

  “I didn’t know you were in a band,” Josh said, looking at Alex.

  “Well, we just formed it about a month ago. Vicarious Jalapenos.” She smiled. “And for some reason finding a guitarist has been a major nightmare.”

  Vicarious Jalapenos?

  Guy nodded. “Yeah, how many people have we auditioned? Like twelve?”

  Alex had been looking for a guitarist? Josh’s gaze traveled to his sister. Why hadn’t Chloe told him about it?

  “Yeah, and we thought we had someone…three different times…until each of them flaked out.”