Jay and I stayed at the bridge for a little longer before he suggested we return to the main part of the city. The bar, Hellions and Halos, he was taking me to was in the tenth arrondissement and would take some time to get to on foot. Reluctantly, I gave one last curious glance over my shoulder at the sunken castle in the bay before following Jay. We were silent, lost in our own thoughts, until I asked Jay how he had gotten to where he was. This proved to be intelligent on my end, as once Jay got started talking about his journey, he became gregarious.
I learned that after Jay had left me on the other side of the visitation screen a little over a year ago, he had called the number on the business card. He suspected the mages were behind it, although he didn’t know for certain until he arrived on the first day of basic training. The commanders hadn’t realized he was a mage, and thus treated him as an ignorant mortal they had to rip the blindfold off of and train to their standards—like all the other mortals he had been recruited with. Jay, still reeling from drug withdrawals, remained in the shadows and didn’t tell anyone about his real identity.
He spent the next couple of weeks with his class. In his own words, those weeks were literally hell. The training sergeant refused to give him any remedies for his withdrawal symptoms or allow Jay’s body to recover from the substance abuse by rest. Every morning, Jay was forced to wake up before dawn, consume his breakfast protein shake, and complete a workout. The rest of the day was spent in drill. Jay wasn't alone, though. The rest of his recruit class was also undergoing withdrawals of some sort. "My friend, Quincy, had it rough. She couldn’t keep the shakes down for weeks, and they wouldn’t let her sit out on the physical training. She was an alcoholic to the point that when she introduced actual food to her stomach, it rejected it, thinking it was poison," Jay said. "I didn't think she would make it. By some miracle, she did."
The mages didn’t discover Jay’s true origins until a couple of months in. By then, all the cadets had battled through their addictions and came out stronger on the other side. They had been grouped into the future units they would serve with; Jay was placed with the fellow cadets being transformed into messengers. Jay had formed bonds with his fellow cadets, so when it was discovered Jay was a mage, he was kept with his team. Yet, he was sent through leadership courses, molded to be the liaison between the mortal soldiers in his unit and the mages.
The journey had transformed Jay. Somehow, the military had instilled discipline into him—where Galileo and the schools had failed. He walked with more confidence. The weight he had been carrying on his shoulders had long since dissipated.
Twilight was falling when we arrived in front of Hellions and Halos. The bar was in an entertainment district, competing with several other establishments for patronage using flashy lights, loud magic blaring from the open front doors, and scents of food I could already taste on my tongue. Hellions and Halos had undiluted white light emitting from their street sign. It stood out against the other signs on the main street, which were purple, green, and red. The pedestrian traffic in the district was light. Jay assured me that this was the district to be in, and everyone was just getting off work. Come midnight on a Saturday night, the place was crowded.
The bouncer standing at the entrance to the bar gave Jay a nod of acknowledgment as we ascended the couple of steps up to the door. His eyes searched me, curious, and he opened his mouth to say something, and then decided against it.
Hellions and Halos’ interior differed from what I would have imagined. It was darker and my vision had to readjust quickly to the difference. Shadows reigned inside of the establishment, as lighting was kept to the bare minimum and highlighted tables, booths, the bar, and the stages scantily clad females were dancing on. The stages were confined by bars, almost as if the females were inside of birdcages. To my amazement, some stages were ten feet off the ground and anchored to the ceiling. It reminded me a bit of aerial dance, and I felt a pang of nostalgia. When was the last time I had entangled myself in a sheet of silk, spun around a trapeze bar, or twirled on a hoop?
The music offered a steady beat for the women to follow and get lost in. As we walked further into the bar, I saw the girls were in various stages of undress. One was in an embellished bikini ensemble accessorized with stilettos. Another was in a skirt that didn’t even cover her ass. One girl further in was covered head to toe in a fishnet onesie.
"Jay," I hissed, moving closer so I didn’t have to speak as loudly, "did you bring me to a strip club?" Half of the tables were occupied by men and women consuming food and beer as they observed the entertainment. Occupancy at the bar was much of the same. It wasn't as rowdy as I would have thought, and the women were thus far remaining on the stages and retaining their clothing. Still, a permanent flush heated my face and neck.
"It’s just girls," Jay defended. "Soldiers need a break away from duty and want the feeling that there’s someone to care for us after everything we see. The girls need the money to survive and sometimes our protection. We help one another here."
True to Jay’s words, he was not the only soldier inside of the establishment. After we got past the bar and the maze of stages, the restaurant portion started. It was better illuminated in this area, although the lighting didn’t ruin the ambience the establishment thus far had maintained. More soldiers—some in full uniform—were occupying the tables in groups. Jay led me up a couple of steps to the upper section and to a corner booth. The booth was already occupied to capacity. Jay didn’t look deterred at all. Especially not when he was received with a warm welcome when the occupants noticed his approach. "Britton!" Multiple voices echoed at once. Jay came to a stop at the head of the table; I hovered partially behind him.
"About time you made it! We were taking bets on whether you got distracted." It was the man who was sitting in the middle of the booth who started the immediate teasing, which included several suggestive eyebrow raises. The man was thinner than his peers, and in the light, I couldn’t tell if he had light or dark hair due to it being cut too short.
Jay snorted. "You would, and probably lose all those bets, too." The people at the booth rearranged themselves so Jay and I could sit down with them. Jay slid in first, and I ended up on the end. The booth was one that curved and formed an 'u', allowing me to see the seven other people in attendance. They had already settled in with beers and cocktails. A depleted basket that had once contained an appetizer rested in the middle of the table, along with a couple of empty beer bottles.
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Glancing around the table, I tried to not be intimidated. Jay's peers—of which there were five males and two females—were still in their uniforms or the dress down version of it like Jay’s. Seeing my glance, Jay launched into introductions. "Bria, this is my unit. We're assigned to the Communications Division." Starting with the male sitting next to him, who had rich cocoa skin, and an afro trimmed short, Jay proceeded with the introductions. "This is Forrest; he does security for us when we are delivering a highly important and confidential message. Quincy is our route analyst, telling us the best route to take. Dartmouth helps with security, while Pierson assists with acting as a liaison between us and the rest of the military. He also helps with task management and is our dispatcher during high-risk missions. Owens, Greenwood, and Ulster all assist with carrier duties. Then there's me, and I manage all of it."
"I can hardly believe you are supervising people now," I muttered. I waited for one of the other people at the table to object to Jay's statement. There was a lack of scorn across their faces, and I could tell that they were accepting of Jay's ranking superiority over them.
"He has some help," one female stated with a small smile. A glance at her name patch reminded me that her last name was Quincy. She was petite in stature, even with all her gear on. Despite her hair being gathered in a tight, neat bun on her head, there was a softness to her facial features. There was not any sign of the prior alcoholism Quincy had suffered from. She seemed to have beaten that battle with her personal demons.
"Quincy likes to say that my organizational skills are lacking," Jay informed me.
"They are."
Jay released a playfully indignant sound and bumped his shoulder against mine.
Quincy's smile expanded at seeing she had support from me, at this sign that we were on the same side. Her eyes shone as she said, "Jay said you two grew up together."
The entire table was listening to the conversation. I shifted awkwardly in my seat. In the attempt to keep the conversation lighthearted, I said, "He was the bane of my existence for a decade. He got me in so much trouble sometimes. It's a miracle both of us weren't murdered by Galileo."
"You loved every minute of it," Jay laughed. "Besides, Galileo would never kill you. You were his favorite. You were on a pedestal! Me? He would have thrown me overboard at sea if he could have gotten away with it."
"Sounds about right!" Forrest interjected. "I was certain we would find your bunk empty and your severed limbs at the flagpole several mornings during basic training."
"I thought I would be the one who would do it, too," Owens muttered into his beer. "For those times your tongue got us punished with running down to the end of the bridge and back." I was fascinated with the discussion and this new life of Jay's I had yet to see. Like he had with Kit and me one time in his life, Jay had forged a new family with this group. Through their joint experiences, they had embraced each other as family. As I found myself wanting to hear more of their silly anecdotes, I discovered that my anger and disappointment towards Jay from the previous night was fading. I found myself laughing as Quincy told the story of how Jay's mouth had turned a forty-five-minute plank into a ninety minute one.
At that point, one of the scantily clad female employees sauntered over to the booth. Her nipple piercings pressed against the fabric of her crop top, clearly not concealed. In between the stilettos and the short black shorts she was wearing, her legs were elongated. Her eyes focused directly on Jay, and when she was close enough, she directed her first comments to him.
"Thought you weren't going to show up, sergeant." The woman flipped her hair over her right shoulder.
"Oh, come on, you didn't think I would miss the opportunity to see your beauty, did you?" Jay returned the flirtation.
"I don't know. You missed a couple of nights last month. I thought you had grown bored with us," the woman replied coyly. She leaned on the table right in front of me, decreasing the distance between her and Jay. Uncomfortable, I shifted in my seat again and dropped my gaze to the table's edge. She was close enough that I could smell the peony perfume radiating off her and positioned in such a way that I could see the side of her breast hanging out of her top. I pushed further back against the booth to increase the space between us. It was like she wasn't even aware I was right there.
"Duty," Jay shrugged. "Don't you know I'm a hardworking soldier, trying to assist with bringing our government's dream to fruition?"
"Even hardworking soldiers need a break," the female flirted. "You want your usual?"
"You know me so well." Jay's eyes drifted to me, as if he suddenly remembered I was there with him. "Add on a vodka grape juice, will you?"
"On your tab?" The female straightened; her lips were twisted in dissatisfaction as she realized whom the extra drink was for.
Jay confirmed it was, and the female strutted away. Her dissatisfaction was apparent in her gait.
"You better make sure Avery doesn't spit in hers," Owens warned, his eyes following the server before she disappeared in between the shadows and tables.
Jay waved away Owens's concern. "It will be fine. Avery knows all about Bria." Straightening with interest, I suddenly wondered how close Jay and this server were for him to be sharing his past with her. I didn't get a chance to ask any questions before Jay's unit started to ask them about me. I spent a fair amount of time answering their curiosities, and more time sharing stories of Jay's stupidity that had the entire booth hunched over in laughter. There were many stories in my arsenal. I was careful about how much I shared when Avery returned; first, with the drinks Jay had ordered, and then with a platter of fried appetizers for the table. I was aware of how she was listening in and how she delayed leaving by slowly clearing the table. She was a professional at angling her breasts towards Jay as she did so. I was acutely aware of how long her fingers lingered over his as she collected his empty beer mug from him.
I finally relaxed around Jay's friends midway through my second drink. Pierson and Quincy were extremely welcoming and extroverted. Even when my introverted ways threatened to leave the conversation hanging, they found ways to pick it up again. I inwardly chuckled over Owens's dark sarcastic comments whenever he made them. Dartmouth and Forrest contributed infrequently; more often than not, I saw their eyes darting around the club. They knew, just as I did, where the nearest exits were, how many people were near enough to be threats, and what could be used as cover should a battle erupt across the club’s landscape. Forrest had been discharged from the British army, although whether it was honorable or dishonorable remained in question.
If we had ended the night right there, then it would have ended on a high point. Jay and I could have returned to the castle, where I might have invited him into my apartment. Although we had made progress in restoring our relationship today, there was still more to discuss. We had been at an awkward point in our lives when we had been arrested three years ago. The handcuffs had been snapped on and restrained our freedoms hours after we had turned to one another for comfort after the massacre. We had never spoken about it since.
If only we had ended the night after those two drinks.