Out of the Box 7 - Sea Change (32 page)

Scott froze, looking around suddenly. “How did you know that?”

“You’re on the news,” Brock said, and Scott turned to see a reporter doing a live shot just behind him. “I’m glad you’re all right, but uh … you do seem to keep showing up where the trouble is in this town.”

“Yeah,” Scott said. “Funny how that keeps happening.”

“Maybe it’s the company you keep.”

“Well, I have been associating with some unsavory types of late,” Scott said, looking up, hoping to see some sign of Sienna. She wasn’t there, of course, and hadn’t been for a while.

“Well, I’m glad you’re all right, m’boy,” Brock said, and he sounded genuine. “You weren’t staying at the Luxuriant, were you?”

“No,” Scott said, shaking his head. “I wasn’t.”

“Oh, good,” Brock said. “I was gonna offer to let you stay with me if you needed. I’d get out of downtown as soon as you can, though. Sun’s going to be up in a few hours, and … well, the traffic’s gonna be a real bear today, I’m guessing. Might want to hunker down.”

“I’ll be out of here as soon as I can,” Scott said, not fully absorbing the words. “Thank you for worrying.” He lifted the phone away from his ear long enough to check the time. “What are you doing up at three in the morning?”

Brock laughed, deep and hearty. “I’ve been accused of being a vampire. I don’t sleep much, see. I was going over some numbers with the TV on in the background when I saw the emergency bulletin. Interrupted my regularly scheduled rerun of
Empty Nest
.”

“Oh,” Scott said, “that’s a real tragedy.”

“I think,” Brock said, “that what’s happening there is the real tragedy. You sound a little shell-shocked. You’re running on adrenaline and too little sleep. Do yourself a favor and get back to bed for a while. And tomorrow—get out of LA. You don’t need any more of this trouble.”

“I’ll definitely take that under advisement,” Scott said numbly.

“Just a friendly suggestion from an old man who doesn’t want to see anyone get hurt,” Brock said. “Take care, Scott.”

“You too, Mr. Brock,” Scott said, and the line went dead.

“Was that your daddy?” a voice from behind him asked. Scott spun to see Guy Friday standing behind him, arms folded, the new bodyguard, Butler, a pace behind him.

“No,” Scott said, not really sure how to take that. “It was a—it was the guy who I came to LA to meet.”

“David Boreanaz?” Friday asked. He sounded serious.

“What?” Scott frowned. “No. What are you two doing here? Shouldn’t you be rushing Kat to safety?”

“Yeah, about that,” Butler said, stepping up. “Your girl came and took her away. Flew off into the eastern sky. Kinda like riding off into the sunset, but you know—in reverse.”

“Riding off into the sunrise,” Guy Friday said, nodding, “but sunrise isn’t until 6:17 a.m. today.” He cocked his head. “Though, if she continues to go east, she’ll meet the sun earlier, like—”

“Where’d she go?” Scott asked, cutting to the quick. “Also …” His voice dripped with loathing, “she’s not ‘my girl.’ Or my anything.”

“No idea,” Butler said, “other than east.” He looked around and caught sight of the news camera in the background, then fussed with his hair for a second. “You think they’re recording right now?”

“Yeah, they’re live,” Scott said absently, his mind on other things. “Why’d Sienna take Kat?”

“They had a quarrel,” Guy Friday pronounced, arms still folded. “On the roof. She called the blond girl—”

“You know what time local sunrise is to the minute but you can’t remember the name of the woman you’re protecting?” Butler asked.

“—selfish and dragged her off,” Friday said. “I think she’s going to murder her. Probably in the desert.”

“Oh, man.” Butler looked genuinely distressed. “That’s going to look bad on my bodyguard resume.”

“Also,” Scott said, feeling a creeping sense of horror, “there would be a dead woman, which—I can’t tell from either of your reactions, but I think—is a horrible thing to have happen.”

Butler looked around uneasily. “I gotta be honest … who’s going to notice one more corpse after this? I mean … like half the illuminati did not make it out of that party. They’re all pancaked on the ground floor of Luxuriant. I mean, the Marvel guys got picked up by Sienna, but I think I saw the DC execs running for the elevator, which means—I think that’s probably the end of the Superman and Batman franchises for a while.”

“Like Zack Snyder didn’t already accomplish that,” Friday said.

“I doubt Sienna’s going to kill Kat,” Scott said, pausing after he said it. “Probably not, anyway.”

“You didn’t hear what she said to her,” Butler said nervously.

“Hey.” Another voice caused Scott to turn. Steven Clayton was standing right next to him, covered in dust. “What’s up?”

“We were just discussing whether Sienna flew off to kill Kat,” Scott said acidly. “What do you want?”

“Has anyone tried calling her?” Steven asked, stepping into the circle.

Scott froze for just a second. “No. No, we haven’t.”

Steven looked around at them. “Mind if I give it a try?”

“You don’t need my permission,” Scott said, giving him a decent glare. He couldn’t decide why he didn’t like this guy, but he didn’t.

“No, but I need her number,” Steven said slickly, not breaking away from Scott’s glare. “You know, if you don’t want to call her yourself.”

“No, I don’t want to call her myself,” Scott said, thumbing his phone open and scrolling to her number in his contacts. “Knock yourself out.” He held up the screen so Steven could see it.

Butler sashayed around with his own phone in hand. “I’m just gonna go ahead and get those digits, too … maybe her firm is hiring, since I’m probably going to have a hard time explaining to other potential employers how I just lost my protectee.”

“You think
she’ll
understand?” Scott had a hard time not laughing.

“Well, she’s the one who did it, so … yes.” Butler focused on the number, keying it into his own phone. “On the other hand, I could just try and switch tracks, maybe use this as an opportunity to seek out some more traditional roles … never hurts to keep all your options open, though.”

Steven already his phone up to his ear, and Scott could faintly hear the ringing. He heard the voicemail pick up, too, a few seconds later. Scott smiled bitterly. “I wouldn’t count on a call back anytime soon, either, if I were you.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Steven said, smiling politely, not showing a tooth. “Hey, Sienna,” he said, leaving a message, “Scott and the gang just told me you got out with Kat. I made it out before Redbeard blew the place, but uh … I’m kinda searching for the next move here.” He looked around. “Cops don’t seem to have a clue, but I’m guessing he made it out. Probably heading back to his base, wherever that is. Snake to his hole and all that. Anyway …” He paused, lips twisting in a frown, “… let me know you’re okay, please, whenever you land. I’ll be waiting for your call.” He hung up and pulled the phone away from his ear.

“Dude, you got mad screen presence,” Butler said, staring at him. “Who’s your coach?”

“What?” Steven looked like he was coming out of a long sleep then ignored Butler entirely. “What are you guys going to do?”

“I’m gonna try and get seen on the news,” Butler said, running fingers through his hair and then looking at them. “I need more dust to look like I was actually in this thing, don’t I? We didn’t get hit with the cloud up on the roof, and I didn’t get soaked like the others.” He craned his neck to look at another camera filming an interview a hundred feet away. “Holy shit, that’s Joseph Gordon Levitt, isn’t it?” He wandered off toward the interview, stopping to run his hands over a piece of rubble and then through his hair.

“What are the rest of you doing?” Steven amended, looking more than a little pissed off.

“I’m going to the Santa Monica pier,” Guy Friday said with a shrug. “Call me if you need me.” He turned around and left, walking straight out of the police line without anyone trying to stop him.

“Why does that guy always wear a mask?” Steven asked, watching him go. “He looks like the Gimp.” He refocused on Scott. “What about you?”

“I’m …” Scott gave that a thought and looked around. The scene—the wreckage—the people—it was all just a raging storm inside him, a liquid tornado in his chest. Before it had just seemed like clouds were rolling through his head, but now there was a solid form to it, a force, an emotion that hadn’t been there before.

It was like he’d found something he’d lost.

“I want to kill this guy,” he said, almost whispering. His eyes fell on the rubble. “I want to find him and kill him.”

“I understand that fully,” Steven said, his own gaze settling on the destroyed hotel. “Where do we start?”

And now Scott was back to blank clouds, formless and unsure. “I don’t know,” he said.

When the sun rose, they were over the desert, flying toward the orange orb that was breaking over the horizon. Kat was cold and shivering and had been for well over an hour, the chill having seeped into her bones. Sienna wasn’t saying anything and hadn’t since they’d left the rooftop pool deck behind. She might as well have been a plane carrying Kat for all the talking she was doing, just a silent force propelling her through the dawn air.

“Where are we going?” Kat asked, her voice scratchy. They were only a few thousand feet up, and green, brushy vegetation speckled white, dusty ground below. It looked like bushes planted in white sands.

Sienna didn’t answer. Kat turned around far enough to see that she was still there—obviously, since she had her hands firmly anchored on Kat’s person. She held at her a little bit of distance, though, to keep from touching her skin. Sienna’s hands were bunched up against the fabric of Kat’s dress, perfectly balancing her at the midsection. “Where are you taking me?” Kat asked again, louder this time, but her voice just as hoarse. She needed a drink. The air at this altitude had utterly dried her out.

“Far away from LA,” Sienna answered at last, sounding a little scratchy herself. There were clouds ahead. Big, white, fluffy ones, and they were headed straight for them, the orange light of the sun lighting them up.

“I don’t want to leave,” Kat said, her voice breaking.

“You don’t have a choice,” Sienna said.

“Because you’re kidnapping me,” Kat said, a little defiantly. She’d been stewing in this for over an hour and she was ready to just let her have it. If Sienna planned to kill her, there wasn’t going to be much Kat could do about it in any case. Sienna was stronger, faster, meaner. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No, I’m not going to kill you, Kat,” Sienna said, her ire rising with her voice, “and screw you for suggesting it. I’m just removing you from the situation. Which is what I should have done yesterday, before I remembered you’re a selfish little cow who doesn’t give a damn about anyone but herself.”

The words stung, and so did the cold air. Kat had already been seeping tears from the speed of wind that was hitting her in the face, but this spurred a new round. “That’s not true,” she said quietly.

“What do you care about, Kat?” Sienna asked, throwing it down like a challenge. “Other than your own worthless neck? Do you give a damn about anyone? Like any of the people who died tonight because you decided you needed to party more than other people needed to keep breathing?”

“I didn’t know that would happen,” Kat said. “I thought we could just show up for an hour and no one would know until later—”

“Don’t give me that,” Sienna said, and the ground started to grow larger, the green brush below getting bigger. “Just like the party, and just like MacArthur Park, right? You were trending on Twitter. Everyone knew you were there. Redbeard could have found you if he’d been blind.” The desert sands were growing larger, too, along with the spaces between the green bushes and the white ground that filled her sight all the way to the horizon. “You are an attention whore, and you were doing what you did best—getting attention.”

“I need to set an example,” Kat said. “People look up to me. I’m an entertainer—”

“You have no talent at all,” Sienna snapped. “You’re famous, essentially, for being an idiot that knew me once upon a time.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Kat said, flush running over her cheeks, “and you’re wrong. I get millions of people to tune in to me every week because they want to see the lifestyle I’m living, they aspire to it—the glitz, the glamour—and it inspires them. I’m an example to little girls—”

“Of what you can accomplish without any actual talent, or bravery, or having to show up and go do real work, just by showing your ass on national television—”

“I do not show my ass on—”

“I’ve seen the vacation photos,” Sienna said. “You show your ass in every way possible, even when you’re not on camera. I mean, really, Taggert—”

“Screw you!” Kat shot at her. She squirmed against Sienna’s invasive grasp; the fingers against her torso felt like aliens or worms, unpleasant invaders. “You don’t know what it’s like—”

“Knock it off or I’ll let go,” Sienna said, the ground looming ever closer. “And instead of just being in exile for a while, you can try and scrape yourself off the desert sands for the last five minutes of your stupid life.”

“Why are you always so mean?” Kat asked, growing very still. “You always just say … just the most horrible things.”

Sienna did not answer for a long minute, sweeping ever closer to the ground. “Because for as long as I’ve known you,” she said at last, “you were everything I wanted to be—pretty, loved, liked—and because when I was as low as I could get, when I didn’t have a friend left in the world, you stabbed me in the back by airing my personal confessions to the world, Kat.”

“I didn’t know—”

Sienna let her loose, and the surprising shock of being up in the air without any support, without anything below her and no one to hold her up took over. “AHH!” Kat screamed, eyes snapping as wide as they could, taking in the vast desert beneath her, looking for the nearest help she could find, reaching out a hand—

She seized control of a thorny bush below, a brambly bit of greenery that had deep roots designed to drink every drop of liquid they could on the desperately rare occasions when it rained. She pushed the reservoirs within the plant, taking control of the shoots, reaching up—