Page 77 of Stars and Scars

“People do this on purpose?”

“You don't have to inhale…”

I chuckle and stow the vape in my oversized shirt pocket.

“I didn’t. Just having it in my mouth is too much.”

“That’s what she said.”

I give her a sharp glance and she laughs. I love to hear Charlotte laugh. It makes me feel alive.

We pull onto the highway. I tense up as an SUV seems to be following us. It reminds me of the one that got away that night in the drainage sluice, when I grabbed the paparazzi. I really should have called for backup.

I sigh in relief as the SUV turns off and stops following us. We make the drive out to Wyatt’s again, reaching the foothills of the Villa just as the moon takes center stage in the nighttime sky.

“Well, here we go again,” I say as I put the Jeep in park.

“Hopefully we’ll find McCloud. And if we find him…”

She doesn’t have to finish the sentence. If we find McCloud, we might just find the Order’s leadership. Cut off the head of the snake, metaphorically speaking, and the body should die.

As we approach the entrance, I affect a ‘broken legged walk’ like I’d seen the influencers do on the internet. I adopt a cocky sneer and hit the vape right when I come up to the bouncers as Charlotte prepares to present our latest invitations.

“Yo, yo, what it be?”

“Too much,” Charlotte whispers behind her hand. I dial it back a notch, but the bouncers don’t seem to notice my over the top greeting. They seem too preoccupied with trying to watch what’s happening inside the house. I can see why. A number of scantily clad performance artists are essentially dry humping each other in the main ballroom.

“Looks a little more wild than last time,” Charlotte says.

“More crowded, too.”

I scan the room as we make a few rounds of the main ballroom. It’s hard to make much of anything out, between the flashing disco lights and pounding bass.

But I focus on the architecture I recognize from last time. Furniture and music rigs move, but support pillars and wrought iron decorative arches do not. I begin to acclimate and focus on sorting through the wildness pounding on my senses.

Then I catch a glimpse of gelled hair dyed two different colors. My eyes focus on a skinny caucasian man with a thin mustache and deep blue eyes.

McCloud. My heart beats faster. I try to keep him in sight while moving covertly toward him.

Unfortunately, McCloud ducks through a door guarded by two security guards. The muscle behemoths aren’t that much of an impediment, but I would cause way too much of a commotion by trying to get past them.

“Damn,” I whisper as we pass by the doors.

“Maybe I can distract the guards?” she whispers back.

“No, I don’t want you to take that risk.”

We move back toward the entrance. My mind runs through a dozen scenarios. I can see the yellow rectangles of flashlights outside in the yard. Sneaking in through another route might be difficult.

Then I spot someone who does not belong at Wyatt’s party. Someone whose plaid blazer with leather elbow pads comes right out of the 1980s.

Malloy. I’d know it was him just by his slouched posture, even if I didn’t see his careworn face. He catches my gaze and juts his chin upward in subtle greeting.

“I think I just found my way in,” I whisper in Charlotte’s ear. “Stay near the entrance, and don’t leave. I’ll get Malloy to wait with you until I get back. With this many witnesses around, the Order won’t try anything, assuming they’re even here.”

“I thought you saw McCloud?”

“I did, but he might be here alone. If things get even a little bit scary, call Platinum Security.”

---