The Forgotten Nexus (Afterlife Book 1)

  Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  About the Author

  ONE

  Harper Hawthorne glanced over at the latest patron to visit Patrick's Pub. He didn't look like the normal clientele; he was dressed up, for starters. Patrick's wasn't exactly a run-down bar, but it often catered to those with ripped jeans and shirts with oil grease.

  Patrick's was one of the locals bars in Las Vegas, typically serving the same guests over and over again, even on a Friday night. Still, it wasn't too abnormal for a new face to show up. Daily, thousands of tourists flocked to Sin City and some of them preferred to find a locals bar where the drinks were cheaper and the service faster.

  Harper walked over to him. "What can I get you?"

  "Scotch, neat."

  Harper leaned her hip against the counter and casually glanced at the machine he was playing on. He had a couple hundreds in 10/7 $1 Double Bonus Video Poker. She nodded to herself and grabbed a bottle of Black Label. She flashed it at him. "How's this?"

  "Fine."

  It was Harper's responsibility to not only serve the customers but talk to them as well. As a bartender, she made quite a bit more money when the customers liked her than when she simply poured their drinks.

  Right now, she definitely needed the extra cash. Her lease was almost up and she was two months behind on rent. She was going to have to pay it all at once or find a new place to live. In Vegas, places weren't cheap and landlords weren't lenient on people who paid their rent in fives and tens.

  "So," she said, pouring the drink. "You aren't from around here, are you?"

  "Just stopping on my way through," Scotch, Neat said. "I'm from Portland, but I just finished some business in Arizona. I'm meeting a new client here in the next few days, and thought it might be nice to see some of the local nightlife."

  "Well, you'll definitely find plenty of that in here," Harper said with a laugh. "I don't think you could find a place more local than Patrick's."

  The man offered her a tight smile.

  "I'm Harper," she offered out. "What can I call you?"

  Before he had a chance to answer, she saw someone waving to her at the end of the bar. "Excuse me a moment," she said.

  At the end of the bar, one of her regulars waited.

  "Eric," she greeted. "Vodka cranberry?"

  Eric, a short, balding man with glasses, nodded to her. He handed over a credit card. "That would be perfect."

  She poured the drink and slid it down the bar to him. She propped the credit card up next to the cash register alongside a few other she'd collected through the night. She gave him a quick smile and returned to Scotch, Neat.

  "So, business is it?" she said. "I suppose that's a good enough reason to be in Vegas. Better than slots and five-minute marriages."

  The man simply shrugged. "I don't gamble. Not anymore. I lost a little more than I should have on blackjack and my wife was rather displeased."

  Harper's eyes immediately went to his left hand. Like she thought, he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. There was no tan line to indicate he'd been wearing one recently either. There was no real reason for her to be suspicious; plenty of men didn't wear their rings, and even if he wasn't married, what business of it was hers?

  "Good reason to quit playing," she said. "But you know, video poker is still poker."

  He gave a low chuckle and shook his head. He pulled out a wallet, and took a ten from it. She saw it was flush with cash. He slid ten across the bar to her. "It's a game of skill," he said. "And that's for you."

  "I appreciate it," Harper said. "What sort of business are you in?"

  "I acquire rare goods," he told her with a hint of a smirk.

  "Oh? What sort of goods?"

  "Nothing too interesting, I'm afraid," He said, looking over his shoulder. "You might want to check on that situation at the end of the bar. It looks like things are getting rather heated."

  Harper turned and saw the other bartender, Ruby Robinson, arguing with another regular, Pete. "What's going on, Ruby?"

  "Nothing," Ruby said, sounding exasperated. Harper didn't blame her; she'd worked a double shift that day. They both had. It was good for their wallets, but sometimes it was a little too easy to get frazzled.

  Pete shook his head defiantly. "Nothing? Nothing? I'll tell you what the problem is! I want to open a tab... and this... this lady refused me. Said you don't do tabs -- now, I know that's not true because I've opened a tab here before. Look, I'm good for the drinks. I can pay."

  Harper gave him a commiserating nod. "I don't know who opened a tab for you before, but you know we don't do that here, Pete."

  Ruby sent her a glance that said more than words could have. He was obviously quite drunk. He'd spilled beer down his shirt and reeked of liquor. His hair was in a state of disarray and it looked like his nose might have been bloodied recently.

  "Personally," Harper said, "I think you should let us call you a cab, Pete. We'll even pay your fare. Take it home, take a shower, and get some rest. You don't look very good."

  "I'm a great customer!" Pete called out. "You know that! I always tip, and I tip well! Well, you know what? Neither of you are getting tipped tonight. Nope, not a dime."

  Ruby shrugged.

  "Pete," Harper tried again, "I really think you ought to go home and sleep this off. I know you don't want to do something you'll regret."

  Before she could say more, Pete grabbed a glass from the counter. He slammed it down, shattering it into dozens of pieces. One of them nicked Harper's arm. She let out a startled cry of pain and looked around for security. Before either of the bouncers could get there, Scotch, Neat was there. He grabbed his arm and pinned it behind his back.

  "That is not how you treat a lady," he said in a calm voice. "Now I'm going to give you one chance to get out of here. Are you going to take it?"

  When Pete said nothing, Scotch, Neat bent his arm back and shoved him against the bar. "Fine! Fine!" Pete said. "I'm going. Used to be a man could get a tab here if he was good for the cash. Now it's all about getting me out the door. I'll tell you this much: I'm not drinking here again!"

  The man released him and Pete hurried out the door. The bouncers followed behind.

  "Thanks," Ruby said to the man. He seemed not to hear her. He was already on his way back to his seat and his drink. Ruby turned her attention to Harper. "Are you alright?"

  Harper held out her arm. It was bleeding. She had always hated the sight of blood -- especially when it was her own. She felt a moment of nausea and then bit her tongue, hard, and told herself to stop overreacting.

  "I need to go to the back and clean this up," Harper said. "Can you handle the floor for a few?"

  "Sure," Ruby said.

  Harper smiled. "Thanks."

  She went to the back room and turned the tap on. She ran her arm beneath the water, trying to look at the cut objectively to see if it needed stitches. It didn't look very deep but it wouldn't stop bleeding. She had already stained her shirt and her pants were spotted with blood and water.

  "Of course," she muttered. "Just what I needed." She opened the first-aid kit that was kept under the sink and wrapped a heavy gauze around the wound. She dabbed at her blouse with a wet rag but it did little good. She would have to soak it in cold water when she got home.

  She lingered in the back for longer than she should have. She would have to write a stupi
d incident report. Work place injuries, and all that. She could think of a hundred things she'd rather do, but it seemed like that's how she'd spent her night after her shift was over.

  After a few minutes passed, Harper decided her mood wasn't going to miraculously get better so she returned to the floor. There were quite a few more customers than when she'd went in the back. Ruby was having a hard time keeping up.

  Eric was still at the bar, sipping his cranberry and vodka. She poured another and sat the second drink down beside him. Eric always had four drinks, back to back, while playing nickle keno on the machine. Then he would tip five dollars and be gone for the night.

  "Thanks," he said, looking at her arm. "Are you alright? I saw Pete shatter that glass... someone could have gotten really hurt."

  There was the slightest hint of a reprimand in his voice, but Harper didn't take it personally. "I'm fine, Eric, thanks for your concern. Oh look, you hit five!"

  Eric glanced at his screen in surprise. "Oh good."

  He took a celebratory sip of his drink and then hit the start button again. Harper shook her head and moved back to where Scotch, Neat was sitting.

  "Are you ready for another?" Harper asked.

  "No, but I will take a water if you wouldn't mind," he said.

  "Sure, of course" Harper said. She filled a glass with ice and set it with a bottle of water in front of him. "You need anything else, just ask."

  "Harper, right?"

  "That's right."

  She smiled at him, though she felt a little uneasy. Something about him just didn't sit right with her. She told herself to knock it off; he'd stood up for her and Ruby when Pete had thrown his little tantrum. Certainly that qualified him as one of the good guys. What did it matter if he was married or not? Maybe he had a long-term girlfriend. Maybe he was gay. Or maybe he just didn't wear a ring. Suspicion wasn't typically part of her nature.

  "Excuse me," she said, motioning at the tables where a few guests were waiting.

  "Certainly."

  She took several orders and tried to ignore the throbbing in her arm. Towards the back of the room, there was a young, short, and slender girl with long hair and huge brown eyes. She wore a short sun-dress and stared avidly at Harper. For some reason, she felt a shiver run down her spine. She ignored this and approached the girl.

  "I'm going to need to see your ID," Harper said.

  The girl sighed and rifled through her purse. She came out with a bona-fide State of Nevada Driver License and held it out.

  Harper took the card and looked it over. Chloe McAlister. According to the driver license, she was twenty-nine. She looked at the card, studying the face carefully. She flipped back and forth between it and Chloe, and frowned. The picture looked right, but... twenty-nine?

  "Is this real?" she asked, turning the card around.

  "I have a young face," Chloe said. "Some people think it's a gift, but honestly. I get carded everywhere. Say, you're Harper, right? Harper Hawthorne?"

  "How did you know that?"

  Chloe just shrugged. "Can I get a rum and coke, please?"

  "Sure," Harper said. She started back toward the bar when Chloe called out to her.

  "Hey! You still have my license!"

  Harper blinked and glanced down at her hand. She was still holding the card, and backtracked to give it to the young looking woman. "Sorry about that."

  "No problem."

  She went to pour the drink and stopped by Scotch, Neat on her way. "Are you sure I can't get you anything?"

  "Just your name," he said.

  "I already gave you that," she said. "It's Harper."

  "Harper... what?"

  "Hawthorne," she said a little hesitantly.

  "Harper Hawthorne. Were you named after a family member?"

  Harper shook her head. "No. Not that I know of, anyway. I was adopted."

  "Were you now?"

  "Yes," Harper said. She was becoming more uneasy by the minute.

  "So you have no idea who your real parents are?"

  "I consider the people who raised me to be my family," Harper said, a little sharply. "Excuse me. I need to get back to work."

  The man nodded. "Of course."

  She went behind the bar and grabbed a glass. She didn't know why she was so shaken. He hadn't asked anything that a hundred other patrons had asked on one occasion or another. When you worked at a bar, you got used to people asking personal questions when they were drinking. Though he'd only had that one drink.

  Harper shook her head and poured the drink. She took it back to Chloe. "Here you are."

  "Thanks," Chloe said. She took a sip of her drink and then smiled. "It's perfect."

  "It's an easy drink," Harper said.

  Chloe fiddled with a strand of her hair. She took another sip and then set the drink down. "You know, you're very pretty. I love your hair."

  "Oh, uh, thanks," Harper said. She'd never paid that much attention to her appearance; she had long, strawberry blond hair with streaks of red that became more prominent in the summertime. Her eyes were a deep green. Sometimes she found herself wondering if she got her looks from her biological mother or father.

  Chloe glanced over at the bar and then patted the seat next to her. "Do you have a minute? I wanted to speak with you."

  "Well, I'm working," Harper started to say, but Chloe held up a hand to silence her.

  "I know you're busy," she said, "but it's important. Just one minute. Please."

  Harper sat down.

  "Thank you," Chloe said. She took another sip of her drink and glanced around quickly. "I was wondering... have you had any weird types in here recently? People who don't belong?"

  "It's a bar," Harper said. "Most of the people we get are strange in their own way."

  "I know," Chloe said, laughing. "But I mean, like, really weird."

  Harper shook her head, but she found herself looking over at Scotch, Neat and wondering about his lack of a wedding ring. She wasn't going to accuse a man of being strange simply for not wearing a ring though. She wondered why she was obsessed about the ring in the first place.

  "No, nobody."

  "That's good," Chloe said. She seemed distracted. Her eyes kept flitting around as she played with her hair. "Look, I think you should get out of the locals bar business. Out of this place."

  "What?" Harper asked.

  "Well, it doesn't pay as well as some gigs," Chloe said. "I own a nightclub. Well, I own part of a nightclub. It's called Afterlife. Have you heard of it?"

  Harper thought for a moment. "It sounds a little familiar but I don't think I've ever been there."

  "Well... we're hiring," Chloe said brightly. "Specifically, we're hiring you. Well, we're trying to hire you."

  "Why?" Harper said, nonplussed. "You don't even know me."

  Chloe shrugged. "I know you make great rum and cokes. That's very important, you know. The tips are better at nightclubs and we have some great security. At least come and check it out. I'll let you in for free. You might want to go home and change, though. You're not exactly dressed for a nightclub and we do have a dress code. Do you have dresses? Most girls come in dresses."

  Harper stared at her.

  "Well, I mean, you don't have to change," Chloe said, "but if you're going to be working there, you might want to clean up just a little bit."

  "I have a job," Harper said, gesturing around.

  "Well, you don't want to work in a bar forever," Chloe said. "Especially this bar. Know what I mean?"

  "I like my job," Harper said.

  "Yeah, sure, but would you die for it?"

  "Excuse me?" Harper asked, confused.

  "Nothing," Chloe said. She waved a dismissive hand. "But really, you should come for the free drinks at least. Tonight. Yes, it has to be tonight. Come tonight."

  "I'm not going anywhere tonight," Harper said.

  Chloe sighed. "I was worried you'd say that."

  Harper stood up. "I have to get back to work."


  Chloe stood too, and grabbed her wrist as she started away. Harper felt a small electric bolt shoot through her. She yanked her hand away and stared at the girl.

  "I'm trying to help here."

  "Help me with what?" Harper demanded.

  "Look, it just isn't safe here."

  "What are you talking about?" Harper asked. "Are you drunk?"

  Chloe shook her head. "Look, I can't explain it all to you here. Alec will explain the rest to you, though. He'll make you understand."

  "Alec?"

  "Yeah, he's been watching you and--"

  "Wait, some guy has been watching me? What the hell is going on?"

  Chloe bit her lower lip. "Like I said, I can't explain it here. You just have to trust me."

  "Well, I don't."

  "That's too bad," Chloe said. "I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way."

  "The hard way?"

  Chloe nodded.

  "Are you threatening me?"

  "Well, in a manner of speaking... I guess I sort of am," Chloe said. "No wait, don't take it like that. I just want to make sure you make it out of here, that's all."

  "That's it," Harper said. "I'm calling security."

  She walked off before Chloe could say any more. One of the men standing near the front of the bar stepped up to her. "What's going on, Harper?"

  "That girl over there..." she turned to look for Chloe, but she was gone. "Where'd she go?"

  "Who?"

  "The girl I was just talking to!" Harper yelled with a frustrated furrow on her brow.

  The bouncer looked around. "Can I get a description?"

  "She was short with long brown hair," Harper said, fidgeting with the bandage on her arm. "She was just there. Look, her drink is right there."

  The two of them walked over to the rum and coke. It was half-full still. Underneath it was a card. Harper picked up and examined it. On it was simply written Afterlife with a cell phone number scribbled on the back. She looked it over a couple more times and pocketed it.

  "Alright, well, if she comes back and starts any trouble, you come and get me," the man said.

  "Sure," Harper said. She went back to the bar and made Eric another drink. Scotch, Neat was staring at her and she felt a sharp stab of annoyance. Her arm was throbbing like mad, there was a woman who both threatened her and offered to hire her all in a single breath, and now there was this guy. What was his deal? Why wasn't he wearing a ring?