overpowering inside of the doorway, and when the doorman leaned in to say something, Mark found himself yelling back, “What?”
The tall man grinned and motioned them to walk behind a curtained area on the other side of the door. The black-velvet draping deadened the sound of the band a little, and the man took Rae’s hand in his own, at the same time reaching out to grab Mark’s.
“You came back,” he said. “We are excited to have you as part of our secret family. The first time…we let you look and decide if this is really what you want. Some don’t return. Most do, because we don’t give out invitations lightly. But those that do come back to us a second time…almost never leave.”
The man held out a long hand that looked paper white against the black curtains. Rae took it, and the man pulled her closer, raising her arm to kiss her knuckles with exaggerated slowness. When his eyes caught Rae’s, she felt instantly weak. As if the connection literally sucked the energy from her soul through her eyes and fingertips.
She drew in a breath as his eyes held her own. His face was thin and drawn, but his eyes…they were like black holes. His eyes were wide, and in the dim light she could only think that they were pools of black. Pools of electric, magnetic black. She couldn’t look away. Seconds seemed like minutes, and she could almost hear him speaking in the silence between their eyes. The words were nonsense, but they sounded important. Like ancient knowledge. Secrets lost. Then without warning he broke the connection and held out his hand to Mark, still keeping his eyes on her.
“My name is Tailor,” he said. “They call me a Watcher, because I’m here to watch! But not just as a voyeur—though I am one.” He laughed. “I’m also here to make sure the night goes well for everyone. NightWhere can be everything you’ve ever wanted…or everything you were ever afraid of. Let me know how I can help you find what you need here.”
“Thank you,” Rae said. “I think I found what I needed here last time. I just need to find her again. She told me that she’d see me, um, in a place called The Red?”
Tailor’s lips spread. “All in due time,” he promised. “Until then…” he motioned towards the moving green and blue spotlights and the band playing on a stage before them, “…go in…and sin!”
The doorman slid away from them, still smiling with some hidden humor. Rae leaned up and kissed Mark hard on the lips after Tailor passed. “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s get some sin!”
She pulled him by the hand out onto the dance floor. The band—dressed in requisite black—was in the midst of a gloomy rock set. The singer crooned almost in monotone, as he picked a heavy Stratocaster. Next to him, the bassist practiced androgyny and boredom, standing stock-still in silk sleeves, black eyeliner and lipstick. His hair was kinked and hung on his shoulders, but only his fingers moved, throbbing a steady thunder on four thick strings. Behind him, the drummer’s mascara ran across bloated cheeks as he pounded out a challenge to the rest of the band. Off to one side, behind a wall of smoke, a tall, bony man who reminded Mark of Ric Ocasek hung intently over his keyboards, filling the spaces between the beats and the guitars with strings and fuzz. He wore sunglasses in the dark.
It shouldn’t have worked, but it did. They were hypnotic. And energizing at the same time. The small crowd on the dance floor didn’t stop moving. Mark and Rae had to edge their way in to find a place to dance to the hypnotic, hazy groove. They ended up between an androgynous couple who both appeared flat-chested beneath their ripped T-shirts, but who both wore fishnets and eyeliner (were they both women? men?).
On either side of the stage metal stairs led to cages suspended in the air. A line of men and women ascended and descended the stairs in a slow but steady procession while the band played. They took turns
Learning to Kill: Stories