Mr. Wong had still been able to identify him, since his face hadn’t been “blown off”, as Zane had put it, sounding hacked. His name had been Andrew Klemmings and he had been a disgruntled artist whose business had gone under by budget cuts that Mr. Wong had instigated as the city restricted its grants. Andrew Klemmings had sought out street thugs to exact his revenge at the party – they weren’t even “fucking close to professionals” Cole had grunted. It also came out on this morning’s news that Mr. Klemmings had a bi-polar disorderand had been off his meds for over a year, along with a lengthy criminal history. Incidentally, when he had stopped taking his medication that was when Mr. Wong’s received his first letter.
They hadn’t expected Mr. Klemmings to act out in the way he had, but Lion Security’s many employees had been watching from undisclosed locations. All four of the guys had been wearing ear pieces and Brent had instructed their men to call S.W.A.T. It had been Stash who had given the “go” for S.W.A.T. to “crash” the party when they did. It would have happened sooner, but Mr. Klemmings had kept me too close.
I had been flabbergasted by the information flying around the SUV. The guys had talked about it excitedly, with manly grunts and animated fervor, using military lingo that I wasn’t privy to. I understood the jest of what they said, but only barely. After my first few initial inquiries, I had stayed mute. Thinking. Ally hadn’t any such qualms. She had yawned and watched the active city from the front passenger window fly by.
I had figured a few things out, though. One, these four men were a true “crew”. When they spoke, they often finished one another’s sentences or automatically knew what the other was going to say before they even said it. Two, Brent had really done something for himself here. He had a thriving security business that had influential friends in high places, a “hobby” that people were really beginning to notice and want more of, and, most importantly, friends who were a family. I’d had no problem imagining them in the army, desert surrounding them, playing cards during rare moments of down time, drinking beers and planning for when they got out.
I was still thinking when we were in line to go through the security check point. I wouldn’t say I was upset, but I would be lying if I didn’t say that I wasn’t jealous of all the things Brent had accomplished. And, also, maybe a little sad.
Yeah. That fit.
I hadn’t done anything with my life. I was a twenty-seven year old with a college degree in agriculture –thank you, bastard– from a podunk university that had actually taken me seven years to complete because I hadn’t been able to attend full-time. The only reason I had even showed up to classes was to get away from home as often as I could. School had been my peaceful place. Where I went tobreathe.
Now that I had left home and momma was dead, I didn’t know what I wanted to do professionally. I would figure it out in time, sure, but it still hurt – selfishly - to see others that were the same age as me going on to bigger and better things when I hadn’t even really begun. I couldn’t even contribute to their conversations, I realized, as we shuffled forward minutely, because I didn’t have any common ground to start with. I’m sure there were probably things we had in common, but they sure weren’t talking about it right then. I felt like the new kid at school, too nervous and apprehensive to even speak up, afraid everyone would stare at me and laugh at what I said.
I glanced at them and then down at myself. Yeah. We didn’t exactly match. The people around us probably didn’t even know I was with them. Other than the occasional nod or smile when someone glanced at me I hadn’t spoken a word in almost forty minutes. When we got to the separating lines of x-ray machines and metal detectors, I almost sighed in relief, purposely hanging back and letting myself be directed to the line farthest from them.
I kinda felt like crying.
They hadn’t even noticed. All four men had deep voices and they carried loud and clear, even over the background noise of beeps, clinking noises that sounded suspiciously like belt buckles being undone, and security personnel giving repetitive instructions on what you were supposed to do. I tried to ignore the sound of Ally laughing happily at something one of them hadsaid and listen to what the butch woman in the blue uniform was coaching. I gripped the ticket that Brent had handed me after signing in – he had supposedly bought the ticket for me even before he had picked me up at the police station – and tried not to feel overwhelmed.
I had never flown before, so this was a completely new experience for me. I stood up on my tiptoes to see what the others in front of me were doing. My eyes bulged. Ithadbeen belt buckles I had heard. I immediately calmed my expression, trying to appear as if this wasn’t new, like every other bored looking individual standing around me, trying hard not to look at one another. And, apparently, I also had to take off my shoes.
I watched as a man, very put out to be doing so, unlaced his work boots and tossed them in a grey bin, and placed that on a conveyer belt that went through the x-ray machine. He also took all his change out of his pocket, I immediately felt mine to see if I had anything there, and put it in a smaller tub along with his watch. Next went his belt, sunglasses, and hat. Good grief! If the man kept going, he wouldn’t have anything left to take off!
I waited, following everyone’s lead. I could still hear the “crew” and Ally talking amiably – they still hadn’t noticed I wasn’t there – and tried to push back any stupid hurt I might be feeling. I shuffled a few more steps closer, only two people left and that’s when I would start taking off my shoes like everyone else had done. That seemed to be the invisible barrier where everyone started undressing.
One more person. I tried to calm my heartbeat. Why it was fluttering I had no clue, but I kept on looking bored like everyone else. Then, a half minute later, it was my turn to start stripping.
I pulled two tubs from the stack and set them on the metal table and took my shoes off, placing them inside and scooting my tub along every once in a while. The guy next to me, around my age and just as punk Goth, placed his tub down next tomine. Our eyes met for a moment and he didn’t pretend not to see me like everyone else. He tipped his head in silent “Hello” and grinned, even though I could see that he was the dangerous sort. I caught myself smiling back and stopped, trying to pay attention.
I calmly placed my duffle bag and purse in one tub and set it on the conveyer belt, silently watching it disappear. I hurried to take my watch and belt off –why didn’t people start undressing in line earlier?- dropping them in with my shoes since I had seen the person in front of me not use the little tubs. I was starting to hold up the line with my two tubs instead of one.
“Ten bucks says we get selected for random screening or a trip the metal detector,” Goth guy murmured quietly behind me.
Was he talking to me? I glanced back. Yep, he was staring right at me.
“Random screening?” I asked, keeping an eye on the family going slowly through the detector.
“Yeah. Random, but not so random. I always get chosen or something on my clothes sets off their alarms.” He shrugged and grinned—but I was pretty sure I detected a slight Russian accent. Just the tiniest bit most would miss. “So, you want to take that bet? I did say both of us have to be taken aside. Not just me.”
I watched a mom and dad go through just fine. Why wouldn’t I, too?
“Sure. You’re on.” I nodded.
“Easy money,” he murmured.
I furtively rubbed the sweat off my palms when the guard motioned for me to step through. Slowly, like everyone else, I walked through as the guard watched me. It beeped.
“Please, step back,” the guard asked/ordered in a strict monotone voice. “I need you to go through again.”
Oh, Lord.
I turned and walked back through, and Goth guy smirked at me. I patted my pockets, there were a lot of them, but nothing was there. The guard motioned for me to walk back through.
Faking calm, I walked through at a snail’s pace.
It beeped, again.
