The morning sun bathed the streets in a warm glow as Garan stepped out of his apartment building, his feet moving with a certain hesitancy as he descended the steps to the sidewalk. Behind him, Buck followed closely, his presence a lingering shadow. Garan stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, his gaze settling on the sleek, black Dodge Challenger parked just a few feet away. The car gleamed in the daylight, a dark contrast against the concrete.
“How’s the rib?” Buck asked, his tone casual yet laced with concern.
Garan paused, placing a hand on his side. He pressed lightly, feeling around for any lingering pain. After a few seconds, he nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Good as new. I guess I just needed to sleep it off.”
Buck raised an eyebrow, skepticism clear in his expression. “Cracked rib healed overnight?”
“Guess it was just a bruise,” Garan replied, shrugging as if to dismiss the oddity of it all.
Buck reached into his pocket, and the sound of the Challenger’s doors unlocking filled the brief silence.
“Where are we going, anyway?” Garan asked, his curiosity on high alert as he glanced at Buck.
“I want you to meet someone,” Buck said, his tone offering no room for negotiation.
Garan hesitated, glancing down the street as if contemplating the day ahead. “How long is this going to take?”
“A lot longer if you don’t get in the car,” Buck retorted, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Fair enough,” Garan conceded, opening the car door and sliding into the passenger seat. Buck did the same on the driver side, and soon the Challenger roared to life, pulling away from the curb and merging into the flow of traffic.
***
The Mad Monkey Jazz Club was an oasis of cool sophistication tucked away from the bustling streets. Buck led the way, pushing through the heavy doors, and as they entered, the dim lighting and rich, velvet décor immediately struck Garan. The place had an air of old-world charm, a timeless quality that set it apart from the modern world outside.
A bouncer stood just inside, his large frame an imposing figure in the shadows. He greeted Buck with a nod of approval, a silent acknowledgment of familiarity. Garan trailed behind, his eyes sweeping across the front room. The elegant decor caught his attention, from the polished wood surfaces to the intricate chandeliers hanging overhead. It was a space that seemed to hum with the echoes of countless bohemian nights.
Aside from the bouncer and a woman stationed behind the bar, the front room was empty. But the muffled sounds from the back hinted at a livelier scene. As if on cue, Garan heard the faint strains of a song ending, followed by a burst of applause that rippled through the walls.
Buck gestured for Garan to follow, leading him through a narrow hallway and into the back room. The space was alive with energy—a stark contrast to the serene front room. The bar stretched along one side, a hub of activity where patrons gathered, engrossed in their conversations. Buck took a seat at the bar, and Garan followed suit, taking in the scene.
With a casual wave of his fingers, Buck signaled to the young bartender. The man nodded, quickly pouring two glasses of scotch. He slid them across the bar with ease, and Buck picked up one of the glasses, motioning for Garan to take the other. Garan obliged, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a small sip. The scotch was smooth, its warmth spreading through him, but it did little to quell his curiosity.
“So, who are we here to meet?” Garan asked, lowering the glass and turning to Buck.
A sly smile crawled onto Buck’s face as he leaned back against the bar, his eyes drifting toward the opposite end of the room. He pointed discreetly, drawing Garan’s attention. “Her.”
Garan followed Buck’s gaze to a small stage at the far end of the room. The stage was modest, but the four musicians on it had commanded the attention of everyone present. A drummer with a compact kit, a pianist, and a guitarist were already set, their instruments ready. But it was the woman standing at the center, holding a microphone with both hands, who truly captured Garan’s focus.
She was in her late twenties, with a presence that seemed to outshine the very lights that illuminated her. Garan knew it before Buck could even say a word. There was something about the way she stood, poised and confident, waiting for the music to envelop her.
The pianist struck a sensual chord, the sound filling the room with a slow, almost languid progression. The drummer joined in, his touch light as he brushed the cymbals, tapping out a subtle, barely audible rhythm on the snare. The guitarist, finding his place in the rhythm, added his own layer to the melody.
The singer turned slightly, her eyes scanning the room until they met Garan’s. Her expression intensely focused, she held his gaze. Then, as if the music had unlocked something deep within her, she began to sing, her voice rich and evocative, weaving through the melody with an effortless grace.
Garan couldn’t look away.
The singer's gaze roamed the room, but it always returned to Garan, her eyes locking onto his with a look that was almost predatory, filled with a deep, sensual intensity. Her voice, smooth and alluring, seemed to draw the very air around her into its rhythm. Garan took another sip of his drink, his attention shifting momentarily. He turned to Buck, more confused than he was willing to admit.
“The singer?” Garan asked, keeping his voice low. “Is that your girlfriend or something?”
Buck's eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face. “That's my sister, Maxine.”
Garan quickly backpedaled, realizing his mistake. “Oh, sorry. You two don’t look much alike.”
“Half-sister,” Buck clarified. “Same dad, different moms.”
The band played on, the sultry melody twisting through the room like a spell. Garan took a moment to observe the crowd, noting how everyone seemed utterly captivated by Maxine's performance. Nearly fifty people, a diverse mix of men and women, of various ages and ethnicities, sat at small tables or stood swaying gently as if caught in an invisible breeze. Each of them gazed at Maxine with a kind of reverence, hanging on her every word, their expressions a blend of adoration and awe.
One young woman, caught up in the moment, leaned in a little too close to the stage. Maxine, never missing a beat, raised her hand to the woman’s face, still singing as she did so. The woman swayed in perfect time with Maxine’s movements, their eyes locked. Maxine waved her hand back and forth, and the fan followed, mirroring her gestures with an almost hypnotic precision. As Maxine slowly crouched down to the ground, the woman mirrored her, sinking to a crouch with the same fluidity.
Then, in one graceful motion, Maxine rose to her full height, extending her arm toward the woman. The fan stood up, swayed for a moment, and then fell back into the arms of the crowd, who caught her without hesitation, as if this were a practiced routine.
The song ended, and the room erupted into applause. Maxine’s smile lit up the stage as she thanked her fans, announcing that the band would be taking a short break. As she stepped off the stage, the crowd parted, creating a clear path for her as she made her way to the bar where Buck and Garan were seated, waiting.
Buck greeted her warmly as she approached. “Hello, Maxine.”
“Hello, Daniel,” Maxine responded, her voice smooth and sultry. She glanced at Garan with interest. “Is this the guy you were telling me about?”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Buck nodded. “This is Garan. I helped him settle a dispute with two of his friends yesterday.”
Maxine smiled at Garan, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. “Hello, Garan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Maxine, was it?” Garan replied, slightly taken aback by her forwardness.
“You can call me Max,” she said, moving closer to him. So close, in fact, that Garan noticed a bead of sweat trailing from her neck down to her chest, disappearing into her cleavage.
“Nice to meet you, Max,” Garan said, his voice steady but his eyes betraying a hint of nervousness.
“So, did you like the show?” Maxine asked, her tone playful.
“Yeah, not bad,” Garan replied nonchalantly.
“Not bad?” Maxine raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Most people love it. You must be a critic.”
She moved even closer, now standing directly in front of Garan, her face just inches from his. The proximity made Garan’s heart race, but he tried to maintain his composure.
“Where you from, cutie?” she asked, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper.
Garan swallowed, feeling the intensity of her gaze. “I live just down the street in Waterson Tower Estates,” he answered, his voice wavering slightly.
“No, silly,” Maxine pressed, “where are you from?”
“Grew up right here in town,” Garan stammered, clearly growing more nervous.
Maxine leaned in closer, her cheek brushing against Garan’s as she whispered in his ear, her breath warm, “Are you in love with me yet?”
Startled, Garan jerked away, nearly losing his balance on the stool. “I just met you,” he replied, his voice filled with confusion and a touch of nerves.
For a split second, something flickered in Maxine's eyes—a mix of surprise and disbelief. Her expression shifted, her lips tightened into a small, controlled smile, though the frustration was still evident. “What, no sparks? No flutter in your chest?” she asked, her tone more measured, but the edge in her voice betrayed her unease.
Garan just shook his head, unsure how to respond.
Maxine stepped back, her eyes scanning his face, trying to read him, her charm slipping just a little. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, but now the question seemed more directed at herself. Her brow furrowed, but she quickly masked the vulnerability. She glanced at Buck, her frustration boiling over. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Buck, amused by the whole exchange, chuckled softly. “Nah, but it’s impressive. When’s the last time someone resisted?”
Maxine’s jaw clenched, a flash of something unspoken passing through her expression. Without another word, she turned sharply and walked away—just a cool, collected retreat, though the tension in her shoulders gave her away.
“What just happened?” Garan asked, turning to Buck for an explanation.
Buck shrugged, still smiling. “You’ll have to excuse Maxine. She’s not used to rejection.”
“Were you trying to hook me up with your sister?” Garan asked, incredulous.
Buck laughed, then leaned in closer, his tone shifting to a more serious one. “I was hoping she would be able to figure out what your secret is. That obviously failed, but this does confirm that there is something going on with you.”
Garan blinked, not understanding. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on, man,” Buck said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You were being oddly defensive yesterday. You aren’t sore the day after a bar brawl. Your kid knows my name, if that even is your kid. You’re a bit young to be a single dad.”
Garan’s expression hardened, but he still tried to explain. “Her mom left…”
Buck cut him off, his tone still friendly but insistent. “Garan, you’re immune to Max, and your kid knew my name.”
He leaned in even closer, making Garan even more nervous. Buck continued speaking, but now in a softer, almost conspiratorial tone.
“Ok, if I want you to come clean, it’s only fair I do the same. Look at these people, Garan.”
Garan glanced around the room. Every single person was still focused on Maxine, following her every move as she made her way back to the stage. They whined like adoring puppies, waiting for their master to scratch them and call them good dogs.
On stage, the guitarist had switched to a bass guitar while he and the other two musicians waited patiently for Maxine to return. As she reached the microphone, the drummer struck the splash cymbal, and the pianist and bass player began a jazzy funk groove.
Maxine swayed back and forth, her hands clutching the microphone stand. Her head remained down, her hair hiding her face as her hips rocked from side to side. After twenty seconds, she raised her head, a smirk on her lips and sex in her eyes, and began to sing.
Maxine threw a quick glance in Garan's direction and for just a split second, the seductive façade fell away. Garan caught a glimpse of something raw and vulnerable in her eyes, but as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, and she returned her focus to the adoring audience.
Garan shook his head slightly, trying to process what he’d seen. “The crowd seems hypnotized. I mean, the band is good, but they aren't that good.”
Buck nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Exactly. Maxine is a phenom.”
“A what?” Garan asked, his brow furrowing.
“A phenom, a meta-human,” Buck explained. “The crowd seems hypnotized because they are. She has the ability to charm anyone that gets close enough to her.”
Buck finished off his drink and set the glass on the bar with a quiet clink. “All people have a different charm distance, but it works on everyone that isn't a close relative. Well, everyone except for you. Why is that, Garan? Why are you the only person on this planet that's immune to Maxine?”
Garan stared at Buck, confusion mingling with the remnants of unease. “How should I know? This is all news to me.”
“And then there's Evelyn,” Buck continued, leaning in slightly. “She touched my leg.”
Garan blinked, momentarily thrown off. “She likes to hug people.”
Buck shook his head, his voice low and serious. “Being a phenom is hereditary. Maxine and I got it from our dad. He was super strong, Maxine charms people, and I can't be touched. My skin instinctively creates a type of force field when anything gets too close. I’ve literally stopped bullets with my face, and yet a little girl makes it through and touches my leg. Who are you people?”
Garan opened his mouth to deflect the question, but something inside him shifted. He hesitated, feeling the weight of the secret he’d been carrying. Then, almost without thinking, he began to blurt out the truth. “We’re from the future, okay? Evelyn's grandfather handed her to me and told me to close my eyes. When I opened them, we were sixty years in the past. That was about three years ago, and now we’re here, and I’m trying to keep her safe because that’s what he told me to do, and I don’t know how. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
The shock on Buck’s face gradually gave way to a slow, almost incredulous smile. He stared at Garan, the smile growing wider as the seconds ticked by. Garan shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.
“You're not kidding, are you?” Buck finally said, his voice beamed with amazement. “You're telling the truth.”
“Unfortunately,” Garan muttered, looking away.
His gaze fell to the floor as he tried to process what he’d just revealed. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes instinctively sought out Maxine on stage. She was still singing, but her eyes found his, locking onto him for a brief, electric moment.
Buck’s voice broke the silence between them. “Sounds like Evelyn's grandfather was a phenom.”
Garan turned away from the stage, suspicion clouding his features. “And you think Evelyn inherited that.”
“Could be,” Buck replied, shrugging slightly. “If so, you're in for an interesting life.”
Garan let out a slow breath, the weight of Buck's words settling over him. “How did you and Maxine deal with it?”
Buck’s expression softened with a hint of nostalgia. “We got a lot of help from friends. One guy, Angelo, took us in for a while. He helps people like us.”
Garan’s mind raced, trying to piece everything together. He glanced back at the stage, where Maxine continued to command the audience’s attention, then looked back at Buck. “Let's go see Angelo.”
Buck regarded him with a serious expression, then nodded. “Okay, let's go see Angelo. We'll take Maxine with us.”
The energy in the room began to surge as the band neared the end of the song. Maxine leaned into the microphone stand, playing the audience with the same skill the pianist used to caress the keys. Feeling Garan’s gaze on her, she shot him a lustful glare, her earlier vulnerability completely masked by renewed confidence. She danced around for the final forty-five seconds of the song, gracefully accepting flowers from her adoring fans.
As the band wound down the song, giving the last bit of their energy to the performance, Maxine grabbed the microphone once more. “Thank you all so very much. We'll be back Friday night. We love you.”
She exchanged a few inaudible words with the band before jumping off the stage and striding back towards the bar where Buck and Garan still sat. She approached with a hint of annoyance in her stride. “Still here? Are you going to humiliate me some more?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as she addressed both Buck and Garan.
Buck leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as he replied, “We need your help. I want to take Garan to see Angelo.”
Maxine raised an eyebrow, a sly smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Why do you need me?”
Buck glanced around before speaking even softer. “I'm going to need you to take the lead on this one.”
Maxine cocked her head, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “Oh, that's right. You need me there because you were an asshole and betrayed Angelo.”
Buck’s expression tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “I didn’t betray him. There was a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?” Maxine repeated with a half-laugh, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Is that what you call it?”
Buck’s patience was wearing thin. “Are you going to help us or not?”
Maxine paused, considering her options. Her gaze shifted to Garan, studying him with renewed interest. “Yeah, I'll help, but not for you. Pretty boy here has me intrigued.” She pointed a thumb in Garan's direction, her eyes lingering on him.
Garan blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected words. “Pretty boy? Thanks?” he responded, uncertain if it was a compliment or just another layer of Maxine’s teasing.
Maxine gave him a playful smirk. “Let me get my stuff,” she said before turning on her heel and striding back toward the stage to gather her belongings.