New York: Allie's War, Early Years

By then, I was pretty sure I didn't want to go in there.

In fact, I was like 95% sure I didn't. But my feet moved that way anyway, seemingly outside of my control. Fighting not to make a sound, I reached the door and put my fingers on the handle, but just before I pushed it open, the band started up with their next song, making me come to a stop all over again.

I'd been right; the music was deafening in the backstage acoustics. The corridor essentially stood under and directly behind the stage, so everything echoed so that it was probably louder than if I'd been standing up there with them. I'd only heard the laugh because the singer's talking was punctuated by enough silences.

Now I couldn't hear a thing. On the plus side, I doubt whoever was inside that room could have heard me, either. Even so, I tugged on the handle carefully, holding my breath as I brought the door open a few more inches so I could slip inside.

I just wanted to look, I told myself. I just wanted to reassure myself that it wasn't what my overactive imagination wanted to make of it, before I let myself attach visuals to that glimpse of soundtrack I'd heard.

I eased cautiously past the door's opening. At first all I saw were the types of storage-room things you would expect for a big club. Costumes hung on freestanding racks. The floor was littered with light stands and fixtures, burned out bulbs next to new ones in padded boxes, club chairs and bar stools that needed a leg or some other part fixed, part of a booth next to a metal shelf unit covered with formal tablecloths in stacks along with table ruffles and cloth napkins and lace doilies for trays. Dismantled roundtops were stacked against a wall. I saw tray stands and serving trays in several different sizes stacked on another shelving unit. I also saw what looked like a giant, paper maché head from some event or other.

Then I saw Jaden. I couldn't see all of him; a long, standing rack of clothing stood in the way of most of his body. But I could see his face...and the fact that he was leaning back on a stack of cushions. I knew his clothes, down to the necklace that I'd given him and his bomber jacket. I also saw his hands, one of which was coiled into the hair of the woman who was leaning deeply into his side.

They were kissing.

I just stared for a moment, taking it in.