New York: Allie's War, Early Years

Then I saw the other guy. Starting a little when I saw his pale eyes on mine, I stared back at him briefly, then forced my gaze back to the front of the room. He looked the same as he always looked. Jon and I had dubbed him Mr. Monochrome. With his black hair, pale white skin, light eyes of some indeterminate color, it seemed almost funny to us at the time. He even wore a black jacket, as if the contrast of his skin and hair wasn't quite enough.

I took another breath, just as the clerk's voice sharpened.

"Place of employment?" he repeated.

"Lucky Cat," I said. "It's a diner on Divisadero."

"Other sources of income?"

"Freelance." At the clerk's quizzical look, I explained, "I'm an artist. I do tattoo designs for Fang's on Geary. Also Gorilla Joint, up on Haight..."

The clerk didn't seem to be listening though. His eyes had gone almost blank in the pause, like he was listening to a faraway tune.

I watched his face, fighting another flush of irritation. Was he just messing with me? Or did he have a VR implant?

Now that I knew Mr. Mono was there, I wanted to get out that much faster.

The weirdo had been following me for weeks. In fact, I first noticed him hanging around not long after I got the GPS locked onto my wrist. Maybe he was into chicks with anger management issues. Or maybe he was just hoping I'd go postal on someone else, and he'd have front row seats.

Either way, Jon was right; I really needed to report him.

The court's clerk nodded then, marking something on the portable monitor. At least he finally seemed to have gotten over his interest in my weird parentage. Peering down at my records, his eyes looked almost bored now. Or at the very least, preoccupied as he perused the relevant lines.

"Okay. Eight more months on your sentence," he said, motioning for me that I could leave the podium. "Same time next month, Taylor."

He crooked his finger at the biker in the chair next to mine.

"You, Daniels...front and center. Verify identification."

I gathered up my shoulder bag and my jacket, still feeling stares on me from some of the other people in the room. The one I felt the most was the hardest to ignore. I glanced at him again, even as I shouldered on my jacket, tugging my hair out of the collar as I turned.

But he wasn't there anymore.

The chair where I'd seen him, only seconds before, was empty; the door still swung silently on its hinges, but Mr. Mono was definitely gone.