“What brings you to New York?” asked AJ.
“Just this thing tonight,” he said.
Above, the lights flashed. “Come on down for the eleven-thirty jam,” brayed the MC.
Before AJ could ask Xiaobo what he meant, Dave and Toni shuffled her toward the backline, a garland of improvisers standing shoulder to shoulder.
As the audience filled in, more and more players took the stage. And to AJ’s mounting alarm, they weren’t randos at all, but the very best improvisers at UCB.
“This is kind of a stacked lineup,” she whispered to Dave.
“Stacked lineup,” Dave hissed back. “This is murderers’ row!”
AJ laughed, reaching up to redo her ponytail. She had no idea what Ian was up to, but—
The skin at the nape of her neck prickled. Her heart began to pound.
AJ froze, hands caught in her hair.
Her mouth went suddenly dry as every thought eddied from her head but one.
Noah.
A primal awareness clanged through her, reducing her nervous system to something ancient and alert. He was here. AJ didn’t know how, but she knew it as sure as she knew her siblings’ names.
Impossible.
And yet, AJ’s body was reacting as if a homing beacon had been switched on, alien tech encoded in her DNA, lying dormant for years until activated by some long-forgotten trigger.
As a large shadow eclipsed the stage lights, AJ had about half a second to register what it was.
Hisscent.
After seven years, it was still as familiar to her as the three-note song of her home phone number.
Then the lights hit his silhouette, gilding the six foot three frame, the shaggy black hair, the broad shoulders, and there he was.
Beside AJ, Dave gave a start. “Is that—”
“Noah Drew,” whispered Xiaobo.
A wave of recognition rippled through the theater. AJ distinctly heard the words “HBO” and “Sparta” and “Leonidas” popcorn through the crowd. She hadn’t seen the show, but she had seen the posters of Noah’s shield-compatible, war-splattered eight-pack at her L stop.
AJ didn’t move. She was tucked behind Toni and Dave. Maybe he hadn’t seen her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she clocked the typical dark clothing, the telltale roll of his shoulders, that wild grace. Then Noah stalked toward the other end of the backline.
For a full beat, AJ stayed where she was. Slowly she lowered her hands. The sounds of the black box were gone—all AJ could hear was her pulse in her ears.
What the living fuck was he doing atUCB?
She should leave. But how? If she walked back into the house, he would definitely see her. The backstop had two doors—she could slip through the nearest one. Tell Ian she was feeling sick.
The theater plunged into darkness. The show had begun.
Cold sluiced through AJ as the lights came up and one of their fellow players stepped forward to solicit a suggestion from the crowd. A volley of ideas launched into the air.
Motherfucker.AJ was trapped onstage. With the most brilliant improvisers at UCB.
