right? And they’re good. Been together for like, ten years or something. Just released their fifth album.” The Zippo danced faster. “It’s supposed to be the one, you know? And it’s selling, getting air time. They’ve worked really hard for this. Everything’s falling into place. Before they go on tour, my friend decides to marry…” Erik stopped again. I watched him struggle for breath, then speech. He slammed the golden metal down between us, its fire gone, but his eyes carried the vanished flame now. “Tell me why my best friend would leave his girlfriend of twelve years, the mother of his child, on their wedding night two weeks before touring with his best selling album ever?”
“Oh, Erik,” I breathed. “I’m so sorry. Do they… I mean, have they found…” I snapped my mouth abruptly shut. What was I supposed to say? Have they found his body, Erik? Or maybe he just ran off with a stripper instead? We stared at each other across Mr. Markov’s favorite heavy wooden table, its surface scarred from countless chess battles and years of customers.
“David would never leave Beth. Not ever, but especially not on their wedding night.” He spit the words out like they were the worst obscenity he knew, like someone suggested he kill his own mother. “And he wouldn’t ditch his band. Not now.”
He wouldn’t ditch me , Erik didn’t add, but it hung in the air between us nonetheless.
His eyes were a reflection of how much he was burning inside, and I felt the quicksilver stirring in mine. Finally, I buried my face in my hands. “When did the whole world go insane?” I murmured.
“I don’t know, but he’s not the only musician who’s disappeared. A couple of us have gone missing over the last few months. It’s got everybody spooked.”
Cold knifed its way up my spine. Could they be related? “Why hasn’t this made the news?”
Erik kicked back in Markov’s chair, balancing it on two legs. “Not high profile enough. It’s like they’re careful with who they target. Super talented people, but not famous enough to draw attention. It’s really twisted. If that’s even what’s going on. Who knows, really.” He pocketed the lighter in his threadbare Levis and gave me a worn smile. “You’re a good listener, weird-eyes.”
“Cute. I don’t have enough nicknames in my life, you know. Don’t forget I make your coffee.”
“Yeah. Listen. Since it’s so dead, I think I’m gonna take off. You ok here?”
I nodded. “I’m not worried about me. You take care of you.”
As I sat watching him pack his gear, I knew I should have called someone to come sit with me. Ethan, Logan, Amberlyn; even Mr. Markov would be happy to come keep me company, and I’d promised Ethan I wouldn’t be alone. But I also knew The Coffee Shop had some of the best wards in Whitfield and that closing time was in little over half an hour. I could see the tea lights glowing in the windowsill, and I realized I hadn’t really had a half hour to myself all day. It would be nice to just sit and let my thoughts wander. The air was so fragrant and warm here. Relaxing. Somnolent.
I don’t know exactly how much time passed before I realized I held the pencil I took orders with in one hand. I’d been drawing on the back of a paper menu for as long as it took Erik to pack his gear and tidy up his corner. That meant I’d been drawing for fifteen minutes? Ten? Oh no. My automatic instinct to hide my ability at all cost kicked in and I flipped the menu face up. I didn’t look at it; I didn’t want to. My heart dropped when I realized Erik was standing as still as the statues in the fountain behind my shoulder.
“Caspia,” he said, his voice shaky and strained. “What are you doing?”
“Um,” I squeaked. “Looking at the menu?”
“Before that.”
Crap! “Oh, it’s just this project. For school. You know I go to Andreas, right?”
Without another word, Erik reached out and flipped the menu price side
“Oh, Erik,” I breathed. “I’m so sorry. Do they… I mean, have they found…” I snapped my mouth abruptly shut. What was I supposed to say? Have they found his body, Erik? Or maybe he just ran off with a stripper instead? We stared at each other across Mr. Markov’s favorite heavy wooden table, its surface scarred from countless chess battles and years of customers.
“David would never leave Beth. Not ever, but especially not on their wedding night.” He spit the words out like they were the worst obscenity he knew, like someone suggested he kill his own mother. “And he wouldn’t ditch his band. Not now.”
He wouldn’t ditch me , Erik didn’t add, but it hung in the air between us nonetheless.
His eyes were a reflection of how much he was burning inside, and I felt the quicksilver stirring in mine. Finally, I buried my face in my hands. “When did the whole world go insane?” I murmured.
“I don’t know, but he’s not the only musician who’s disappeared. A couple of us have gone missing over the last few months. It’s got everybody spooked.”
Cold knifed its way up my spine. Could they be related? “Why hasn’t this made the news?”
Erik kicked back in Markov’s chair, balancing it on two legs. “Not high profile enough. It’s like they’re careful with who they target. Super talented people, but not famous enough to draw attention. It’s really twisted. If that’s even what’s going on. Who knows, really.” He pocketed the lighter in his threadbare Levis and gave me a worn smile. “You’re a good listener, weird-eyes.”
“Cute. I don’t have enough nicknames in my life, you know. Don’t forget I make your coffee.”
“Yeah. Listen. Since it’s so dead, I think I’m gonna take off. You ok here?”
I nodded. “I’m not worried about me. You take care of you.”
As I sat watching him pack his gear, I knew I should have called someone to come sit with me. Ethan, Logan, Amberlyn; even Mr. Markov would be happy to come keep me company, and I’d promised Ethan I wouldn’t be alone. But I also knew The Coffee Shop had some of the best wards in Whitfield and that closing time was in little over half an hour. I could see the tea lights glowing in the windowsill, and I realized I hadn’t really had a half hour to myself all day. It would be nice to just sit and let my thoughts wander. The air was so fragrant and warm here. Relaxing. Somnolent.
I don’t know exactly how much time passed before I realized I held the pencil I took orders with in one hand. I’d been drawing on the back of a paper menu for as long as it took Erik to pack his gear and tidy up his corner. That meant I’d been drawing for fifteen minutes? Ten? Oh no. My automatic instinct to hide my ability at all cost kicked in and I flipped the menu face up. I didn’t look at it; I didn’t want to. My heart dropped when I realized Erik was standing as still as the statues in the fountain behind my shoulder.
“Caspia,” he said, his voice shaky and strained. “What are you doing?”
“Um,” I squeaked. “Looking at the menu?”
“Before that.”
Crap! “Oh, it’s just this project. For school. You know I go to Andreas, right?”
Without another word, Erik reached out and flipped the menu price side
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