“Yeah. Your band might be there. Still, we don’t know what they look like.”
“This might help.” I glanced up to see Michael holding a digital camera. He handed it to me, taking a seat. The cat crawled across my lap to settle on his. How unnerving. I started flipping through the memory card: pictures of the park, a couple of instruments, and at last Devil’s Paradise.
“I think these may be photos from your performance the other night.” The first picture of the club had a massive crowd in line outside. The next depicted a blurry but definite picture of Michael on stage with his band. He stood out in front beside a short brunette with a streak of white in her bangs. Behind him stood a tall black guy with a faux-hawk and a skinny blonde girl with short hair. I could just barely make out the drummer in the back—a dark-haired Hispanic guy. There were a handful of these pictures all taken from different angles but the date at the corner confirmed they had been taken August 5th, 2010.
“Alright, now at least we know who we’re looking for,” I said, standing.
Michael scooped up the cat and deposited her on the couch. She hopped to the floor and wandered into the kitchen to drink water from a bowl on the floor by the counter. I made a mental note to come back and feed her.
“Anything else you think we need?” Michael inquired.
I thought about it and then an idea hit me. “Spare key?”
“Oh. Sure.” Michael opened the file cabinet and stuck his hand inside, bringing out a key that had been taped to the inside of the drawer. After a second, he realized what he’d just done and shot a surprised look at me.
“How’d I do that?”
“Habitual memory. I figured you’d react without thinking about it,” I explained, stashing the key in my pocket. At least now we could actually lock the door.
Luckily, we’d gotten out in time to catch the next bus to Devil’s Paradise. When we pulled up to the stop across the street, I began to regret coming here on a Saturday night. The line stretched down the block: Goth punks, girls in tiny skirts, and guys with faux-hawks. Two bouncers stood outside the double doors, eyeing each person before allowing them inside and refusing those who didn’t make the cut. The white guy on the right had a neck as thick as a ham and a body like the trunk of a Redwood. The black guy on the left was easily over six-feet tall and could probably bench-press a Volvo. Great.
“I can see this being a problem,” Michael said, letting his eyes scan over the long line. I raked a hand through my hair as I tried to figure out what to do. My outfit was far too casual to get me in. It wasn’t like I could bribe the bouncers: I had maybe twenty bucks.
“Any bright ideas, rock star?”
“Prostitution?”
I sent him a hateful glare while he just held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. I got nuthin.’ There’s no point in having me sneak in there because I can’t talk to anyone.”
“Wait, does that mean you figured out how to turn intangible?”
He stuck his hand out to touch the bus sign. It passed right through like magic. “Yep.”
I nearly slapped my forehead. “You could have told me that earlier.”
“You didn’t—”
“If you say ‘you didn’t ask,’ I am going to call that exorcist.”
Michael closed his mouth and merely smirked. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
“Hey, Jordan!”
A female voice called to me from across the street. I spotted the girl from Guitar Center, Chloe, waving me over from near the front of the line. I checked for cars and then jogged over to her with a surprised smile.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
She waved a hand at the club. “I came here to meet up with some friends. Are you still looking for Michael?”
“Yeah. I called the number you gave me but he didn’t pick up.”
Chloe frowned a bit. “Sorry to hear that. Do you want to come inside and see the band? I know at least two of them are here tonight. Maybe they know where he is.”
“Yeah, that seems likely,” I replied, indicating the huge line behind her.
Chloe flashed me a crafty grin. “You’re with me. Don’t worry about it.”
I watched with shock as she tugged me in next to her and waved to the bouncers. Their stony expressions softened and they nodded for us to go in. When I turned to ask her how the hell she’d done that, she told me she had been the baby sitter for each guy’s kids on weekends. Small world.