Page 81 of Resonance
I sensed his gaze still on me as I opened the door… and immediately jumped back with a shout.
The guy on the porch lurched backward, too, with a matched bark of surprise. He’d been hunkered over what appeared to be a cardboard box. I had visions of severed heads and Brad Pitt inSevenand stupidly fumbled for the porch light, flipping the switch and flooding the worn floorboards along with the stranger.
“Fuck!” The guy threw his hands up to ward off the sudden brightness. “Can you turn that off?”
“What’s in the box?”
From behind, I heard the sound of Aiden’s completely unconcerned laughter as he came closer. And then it cut off suddenly when I flicked off the light and the guy on the porch lowered his hands from his face.
I knew those charcoal eyes, but it took me a second.
“John Paul!” I put a hand over my chest and pressed, trying to trick my heart into a slower rhythm. “What the hell are you doing out here?”
“I—” His brows hiked into his hairline, and then his gaze flickered over my shoulder toward Aiden. He snapped his mouth shut, lips pursing a moment before he answered. “I’m dropping some stuff off. For Dan. Records. I’m a… uhh… runner of sorts. Like a courier.”
“Oh. You don’t just bring them to the shop directly?”
“Nope, I’ve always brought them here.”
The resolute steeliness in his eyes burned away my intent to question him further. “He’s out of town,” I told him, but John’s gaze had fixed just over my shoulder where Aiden stood.
He lifted his chin slightly in acknowledgment. “Hello.”
I twisted around to see Aiden nod minutely in return. My gaze drifted between them because something was definitely happening there that I couldn’t put my finger on. I’d stepped into some social twilight zone.
“Do you two know each other?”
Aiden blinked away and shrugged. “Not really.”
John ignored my question altogether and, with a final nudge of his toe to the box, turned toward the stairs. “Make sure Dan gets those. Tell him it’s to help.”
On that enigmatic note, he lifted his hand as a goodbye, then trotted down the stairs.
Still utterly confused, I listened to the grind of the engine as he cranked his truck and drove off.
The box was fairly lightweight, and I scooped it up before kicking the door closed and squatting down just inside to examine it.
“Open it,” Aiden suggested, dropping his gangly ass down next to me.
I considered not, but curiosity got the better of me and I took the Swiss Army knife Aiden held out in offering and slit through the tape, then opened the flaps to reveal a thick stack of record sleeves, all shrink-wrapped in plastic except one. I pulled it free and let out a breath. “I haven’t seen this one before.”
“It’s new, obviously,” Aiden said.
“Thanks, genius, I got that part.” When I doubled back to Aiden’s face for a second look, he shrugged. “Most anyone who’s worked in the industry over the last five years knows Jessup’s stuff.”
But it took me longer than it should’ve to fit all the pieces together.
When I did, I dropped back onto the carpet, resting my spine against the couch as I held up the record—Jessup Polk,Down A Darker Road—then stared accusingly at Aiden.
“You already knew it was him.”
“Put it together a while back. Told you I was good with those context clues. I’m also good at keeping a secret.”
I had some doubts about that, but I held my tongue. “He plays in public, though. Doesn’t he know it’s just a matter of time before someone figures it out?John Paul? I mean, that’s way too fucking easy.”
Aiden shrugged. “No one has yet, including you until just now, and the stuff he plays in public is pretty different. It’s usually his proving grounds, like he’s testing a sound. By the time he finally releases it, it’s evolved a lot.”
I flipped the record over, examining the eight tracks listed. “So let’s listen to it.”