He peered at each one of them.
They were alive, but barely. Lost in the dreams of the drug.
And he kept going.
Because now he knew, he knew in his young, small heart that his mother would be one of them.
He walked the alleys for what seemed like forever. It wasn’t until he was in the one right behind his apartment that he saw a familiar pair of dirty tennis shoes poking out from behind a dumpster.
His breath caught in his lungs. Bile filled his mouth.
The feeling of pure, undiluted dread was incapacitating, a living, breathing thing that pushed down on him until he felt he was drowning.
His mother’s legs weren’t moving at all.
In the cold light, they almost looked blue.
He didn’t know how long he stood there for, frozen in fear, his heart crumbling inside him. For all her flaws, she was his mother and the only person in the world he truly loved. He didn’t want to see her like this. He wanted everything to go back to the way it was earlier. If he could go back through the tesseract, back to when his mother wasn’t lying in the alley, before his life changed forever, he would.
Be brave, Emmett told himself. You’re a big boy now.
And he was. He straightened up his shoulders.
Took in a deep breath.
And peered around the dumpster.
That night everyone heard the cries of that boy.
They seemed to bounce off the alley walls forever, drowning out the sirens and the chaos of the streets.
A horrible wailing that could have woken the dead.
Only it didn’t wake his mother.
Chapter 1
Emmett
28 years later
“You know if you touch me, he’ll kill you.”
Her words hang in the air. A little too long for my liking but I react as I’d planned.
“How do you know you won’t like it if I touch you?” I ask her, bringing the appropriate amount of sneer to my voice. I take a menacing step toward her back, her side profile lit just right, until I’m standing behind her. “It will be our secret.”
I wait a few beats, counting in my head, then lower my voice as I lift her hair off her shoulder. She smells like hairspray and my hand practically sticks to the strands. “I know you’ve been wanting a walk on the wild side for a long time. Now is your chance. Give in to me.”
At that she stiffens and it’s almost realistic. Is she really this repulsed by me in real life? She definitely wasn’t a few weeks ago when I was screwing her in her trailer.
“Cut!” Jackson yells, his voice booming across the set. “Sorry, Emmett, the line is walk on the dark side, not wild side.”
I roll my eyes, stepping away from Madison and look over my shoulder at him as he stands next to the playback screens, tired and frustrated. It’s eleven p.m. on Friday night and we’re into overtime once again. Everyone wants to go home, myself included, especially since I’ve got to be up bright and early for my friend Will’s wedding. I feel bad enough as it is, having to miss the rehearsal dinner tonight.
“I know my line,” I tell the director of the week, trying not to sound snippy. “But walk on the dark side is a little too Darth Vader for me.”
“I know. But look who our audience is,” Jackson says. “This is the CW network here. People get who Darth Vader is and they need to associate him with you. You’re the villain here, you’re the one that everyone wants to watch.”
“At the moment,” Madison mutters under her breath. I give her a sharp look and she can’t even be bothered to put on her fake smile in return.
“Of course, they’re here to see Madison, too,” Jackson offers. “But don’t hold back here, Emmett. You’re Cole Black. Doctor Death. People expect the puns, they expect you to be over-the-top. You know this by now.”
I sigh. Serves me right for trying to do this properly. Seems all those years in London’s West End theatres don’t count for shit when you’re playing the bad guy on a superhero show for teens.
I’m definitely not complaining though. I haven’t been on the rise for a good ten years. Hell, until six months ago, I was written up as a has been in the Canadian media. I mean, you know your career is going downhill when fucking Canada starts taking shots at you.
But ever since I landed the role of Doctor Death in the world’s most ridiculous superhero show, Boomerang, my life has completely turned around.
For the better, of course.
At least, I’m fairly sure.
You know when you’ve dreamed about something for so long, craved it so fiercely, that when you finally get it, you’re not sure what to do with it, or even how to feel?
That’s what I’m going through.
Some people might even say I’m not handling it all too well.
I try not to listen to them–the media especially.
The only problem is Autumn, my new publicist, is starting to say the same thing too.
But aside from sleeping with Madison and having it out with one of the script supervisors, I’m trying to be a fucking angel on set. It’s just that everywhere else, trouble seems to follow me.
With that in mind I take in a deep breath, swallow my pride and give Jackson a winning smile.
“All right, let’s do it again,” I tell him. “I’ll follow the script. Promise.”
Madison scoffs beside me. She knows as well as I do that following script hasn’t been my strong suit. That’s a metaphor that can go a million different ways.
Luckily I pull through, summoning as much cheesiness as I can manage to bring Cole Black to the edge of caricature and in another hour it’s time to call it quits.
I say goodbye to the crew and leave the North Vancouver studio in my Audi, a recent purchase. Though I’d saved up a pretty big nest egg while working for most of my twenties, which resulted in my waterfront home, I’d also been especially frugal with my money.
But with the role on Boomerang has come the big bucks and more opportunities, especially in advertising. It wasn’t long ago that doing ads as an actor was frowned upon, unless you were doing them overseas for things like Japanese whisky. Now Matthew McConaughey and his damn drawl and Lincoln car has made it acceptable. Danny DeVito and George Clooney smiling about Nescafe then pushed it into the encouraged department.
So a popular show plus a few ads here and there and I’m finally making money I’m not afraid to spend. Hey, I’ve been the ‘it kid’ and then I’ve faded into obscurity. At thirty-eight, I know more than anyone how quickly everything fades and I’m not just talking this business. It’s life, in general. Over in the blink of an eye.
I’m not sure why my thoughts have taken a turn for the negative but I feel myself being pulled into the liquor store hoping to pick up something for tomorrow morning when Will and Ted come over before the ceremony. It’s an excuse, really, since I have a fully stocked bar but I’ve got it set in my mind. Naturally, being that it’s late and everything in this damn city closes early, it’s closed.
I probably should keep going, get in my car and head over the Second Narrows Bridge towards home. Grab a bottle of rye from the bar cart, put my feet up and relax. Pass out in front of the TV. That sort of thing.
But there’s a fire building through my veins. I don’t get back in the car, instead I walk across the parking lot, past the grocery store and shops that are all closed for the night, right to El Rodeo.
Don’t ask me why it’s called El Rodeo. It doesn’t serve Tex-Mex or any food, nor does it have a western décor. If anything it looks like a nautical joint. But it is a bar and one usually frequented by actors and crew who work at the studios.
Being Friday night, there’s a few people inside, some that I vaguely recognize, but I keep to myself and take a seat at the bar. I try not to do a lot of drinking at this place since there are usually some autograph hounds, gossip bloggers and paparazzi around, plus the drinking and driving laws in British Columbia are very strict and the last thing I need is to be tossed in jail.
But for some reason I find myself pounding back the rye like it’s water and by my fourth one I know I’m taking a cab home. Maybe it’s that I’m feeling increasingly frustrated lately, which reminds me that I probably should schedule another meeting with my therapist, Christine. Or it’s that Will is getting married tomorrow and while I’m happy for my best friend and Jackie, his sweet, pregnant and young bride-to-be, it reminds me that while my career might be moving forward again, my personal life isn’t. It’s as stagnant as ever. One step forward in one direction, two steps back in the other.