InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 6: Shameless ❯ Evan ( Chapter 9 )

~~Chapter 9~

~Evan~

 

 

 

“Great set, Zel.”

 

Evan Zelig lifted his face from his cupped hands and glanced at the doorway to nod at Mike Murphy, his manager. “Thanks,” he replied, rummaging through Madison Cartham's makeup case in a vain effort to find something worth smoking. He hadn't actually thought that she'd have any such thing in there, but he'd hoped . . .

 

“You should be washing that shit off, not finding more to put on,” Mike remarked with a chuckle.

 

Evan shot him a dark look then grinned. “You're just fucking jealous because you ain't nearly as pretty as me.”

 

Mike rolled his eyes and shook his head but smiled as he waved and moved away from the doorway. “Let me know when you're ready to head back to the hotel,” he called over his shoulder.

 

Evan grunted before turning back to scan the abysmally dreary changing room. He could hear the screaming fans—mostly girls—being held back by the security blockade down the hall. Ordinarily, he'd go out there and rap with the fans a little, but tonight . . .

 

He sighed. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to do it. He was finished with his set. Since he wasn't as well known as some of the other artists on the bill for the Megalo-Monster Rock Festival, he'd had to perform in an earlier time slot. He cracked a grin. Only the most notorious, the most outrageous of artists were invited to do the exclusive show. He was definitely making progress . . .

 

“Hey, Zel,” the head of Evan's security team—a huge buffalo-youkai that everyone called `Bone'—said as he paused in the doorway.

 

“You got anything to smoke on you?” Evan demanded without preamble, waving his hand at his childhood friend.

 

Bone lowered his chin and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sure,” he replied. “Listen to me first, ya?”

 

“Okay, fine,” Evan replied, wiping his face with the thin white towel that was draped around his neck before gathering all of his waist-long hair—dyed Priscilla-black for the occasion—and flipping it up and down in an effort to cool his overheated skin. When that didn't work, he growled and reached forward, jerking the makeup kit over and snagging a pale pink hair clip out of the top tray. “Where the hell's Maddy?” he grumbled, twisting his hair into one long rope and twisting it around into a knot at the nape of his neck before securing it with the pink clip. “This hair's gotta go . . .”

 

Bone scratched his stubbly chin. “Did you see the news?”

 

“What news?” Evan asked, his tone flat as he shook a small plastic vial of white powder. “What do you think this is?”

 

“Knowing Maddy? Probably something girly—baby powder or some such shit,” Bone countered with a wolfish grin, his teeth bright white against the darkness of his skin. If he were human, Bone would have been classified as African-American. Since he was youkai, though, Evan tended to think of him simply as `Bone' . . .

 

Conceding Bone's point, Evan wrinkled his nose and dropped the vial back into the beauty kit. He didn't really like snorting stuff, anyway. It really fucked with his nose . . .

 

“Anyway, about the news . . .” Bone went on, lounging against the doorframe.

 

Evan dug a hot pink tube of lipstick out of the kit and pulled off the cap. “Not my color,” he remarked, screwing the stick of gaudy orange makeup down before replacing the lid. “I haven't had five minutes to watch the news,” he said in a tone that implied that Bone ought to know as much.

 

“Yeah, I didn't think so,” Bone commented, rubbing one of his ham hocks he called hands over his face. Something about the youkai's tone of voice drew Evan's attention, and he pushed the makeup kit away. Hunching over with his hands dangling between his spread knees, Evan focused his attention on Bone, waiting for him to go on. With a heavy sigh, Bone pushed himself away from the doorframe and strolled over, dropping into the chair diagonally across from Evan. The horridly upholstered orangey-red crushed velvet chair creaked and groaned but didn't break. “Jillian . . . she was down in Cancun, ya?”

 

“Yeah,” Evan agreed slowly, trying to ignore the surge of trepidation that shot through him at the foreboding in Bone's voice.

 

“It's been on the news, you know? Her rental car blew up.”

 

It took a few moments for Bone's words to sink in. “What?”

 

“Relax, man . . . she wasn't in it. Thing is, no one knows exactly where she is, either.”

 

Shooting out of his chair, Evan stalked the room, flexing his claws as he tried to tamp down the surge of absolute rage that surged through him. “What do you mean; no one knows where she is? What the . . .? Fuck, no! Someone's gotta know, goddamnit!”

 

Bone shook his head as he pinned Evan with a somewhat bored gaze. “I'm sure your peeps know where she is, dumb ass . . . the media don't know; that's all.”

 

“Why didn't you tell me this before?” Evan growled, rounding on the head of his security team.

 

“I just saw it, myself, ya? Anyway, don't get all bent over it, Duckie.”

 

Evan snorted, draping his hands on his hips as he glared at Bone. “I'm not getting bent, and don't fucking call me `Duckie'.”

 

Bone cracked a grin. “Yeah, and . . . yeah . . .” he replied as he pushed himself out of the chair and lumbered toward the door.

 

“Fuck you!” Evan hollered at Bone's retreating back.

 

“Had better offers, Duckie,” Bone shot back without missing a step as he pulled the door closed behind him, leaving Evan alone once more.

 

“Damn it!” he growled, snatching his cell phone off the makeup table in front of the lighted mirror and dialing the fourth number on speed-dial. It rang five times before switching over to voice mail. He hung up as Jillian's voice greeted him and dialed his father's number, instead.

 

“Hello?” Cain Zelig answered, his voice haggard, weary.

 

“What the fuck is going on, Cain?” Evan demanded, drumming his knuckles against the table.

 

Cain sighed. “Evan . . . how's the tour going?”

 

“Fuck the tour, damn it. I want answers. Just why the hell wasn't I told about all this bullshit? I had to hear about it from Bone?”

 

“Everything's fine, all right? Calm down.”

 

Gnashing his teeth at the placating tone of his father's voice, Evan growled in frustration. “Spare me, will you? Just tell me where Jilli is.”

 

Cain didn't answer right away. With a long sigh, he let out his breath in a slow gust. “Bas and Gunnar are doing what they can. It's taken care of.”

 

“The hell it is!” Evan snarled, digging his claws into the hardwood table. “I'm comin' home.”

 

“No.”

 

“Why the fuck not?” he demanded, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that told him that Cain was not acting quite normal.

 

“I told you; we have everything under control. There's no need for you to worry about it.”

 

“The hell there ain't, Cain. I can help, too, you know.”

 

“Evan . . . do you remember the last time you `helped' Jillian?”

 

“Yeah, so?”

 

Cain paused long enough to light a cigarette. Evan could hear the soft `snick' of the lighter. “So you ended up nearly killing the guy—”

 

“Who fucking well deserved it if you'll remember.”

 

“I'm not saying he didn't,” Cain allowed. “What I am saying is that your temper gets you into trouble, and your sister doesn't need that right now.”

 

“He was trying to rape her,” Evan bit out, his voice low, gravely. “Bastard deserved to die, not to be banished.”

 

“But he didn't, and it wasn't your call to make. Even if I did agree, Jillian couldn't have dealt with the idea that someone died because of her, and you know it.”

 

“I'm still coming home,” Evan insisted. “Now where the fuck is Jilli?”

 

Cain sighed yet again. “Let Bas and Gunnar do their jobs, all right? In the mean time, just call Gavin.”

 

“Bassie . . . of course . . .” Evan mocked. “He can handle everything because he's got such a level head on his shoulders, right?”

 

“Evan . . .”

 

“It's bullshit, and you know it! What the hell is going on?”

 

“Call Gavin,” Cain repeated.

 

“Fuck you, Father,” Evan snarled, snapping the flip-phone closed to end the call. Gritting his teeth so tightly that his jaw ached, he opened the device again and dialed Gavin's number, instead, tapping his foot impatiently while he waited for Gavin to answer.

 

“Gavin Jamison.”

 

“Spare me the shit, Gavin. Is Jillian with you?”

 

“Evan, hi . . . yeah, she's here.”

 

“Why the hell didn't anyone tell me about the car?” he bellowed.

 

Gavin sighed. “I don't know . . .”

 

“Nice . . . first Cain's acting all fucked-up, and now you're hedging, too . . . Tell me what the hell you know, Gavvie,” Evan growled.

 

“That's just it, Evan . . . we don't really know much. This guy—he calls himself `Mickey B.'—keeps emailing Jilli . . . telling her that he knows where she lives and stuff . . . He's got pictures, too.”

 

“So he's a fucking loon . . . Three-quarters of the people who live in New York City are.”

 

“Listen . . . there's more to it than that. Hold on a minute.” Evan snorted but refrained from comment. He could hear the groan of old wooden stairs from Gavin's end of the line, and he waited, albeit impatiently, for Gavin to put the phone back to his ear. The creak of a door's hinges . . . the moan of the stairs once more . . . Finally Gavin's voice returned, and Evan had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping for the disruption. Gavin sighed. “This guy . . . he's taken pictures of Jillian's apartment—from inside her apartment—”

 

“What?”

 

“—And mine, but those were from the outside, it seemed. Your father didn't want me to take Jilli home because the mansion's been breached, too.”

 

“Son of a bitch.”

 

Gavin cleared his throat. “Anyway, Cain's got Bas and Gunnar looking into it. They've got the resources to track this guy that no one else really has.”

 

Evan digested that for a moment. “Why the hell didn't you call me, Gavin?” he demanded as the precarious hold he had on his escalating temper thinned.

 

“It's not that simple. We don't know what all this guy knows. He's taken pictures of the house in Maine, which is why I assume Cain told you to call me. Mickey B. followed Jilli to Cancun . . . he sent her a picture of us having dinner at a local restaurant . . . and he sent a picture of the rental car, too . . .”

 

“Shit . . .” Evan shook his head as he assimilated the information he'd been given. “You're telling me that you think this guy fucked with the car?”

 

“It's . . . possible. The reports that Cain's gotten indicate that the brake line was tampered with.”

 

“This guy was trying to hurt her?” Evan pounded his fist against the table top in an angry cadence. “Where are you right now?”

 

“Montana,” Gavin replied. “We're at my ranch.”

 

“Yeah, fine . . . I'll be there as soon as I can get a flight.”

 

“No, Evan, don't,” Gavin broke in.

 

Evan held the phone away from his head for a moment to glower at the gadget as though he thought it just might be broken, smothering a defiant growl as he smashed it against his head once more. “You, too, Gav? What the . . .? Why does everyone act like I'm a liability?”

 

“It's not that,” Gavin said slowly. “It's just . . . you can't . . . You and Jilli . . . well, you two are always getting into some sort of trouble or another. She's fine; I promise. I won't let anything happen to her.”

 

Evan snorted indelicately. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Gavin. `Preciate it. I really do. She's my sister, damn you! She ain't your responsibility!”

 

“She is my responsibility,” Gavin argued coldly. “She's my friend . . . so long as she is, I'll protect her.”

 

“Your friend? Yeah . . . As if she's ever wanted to be just your friend.”

 

“What's that supposed to mean?”

 

Evan sighed. “Forget it. I'll be there as soon as I can get a flight.”

 

He hung up then, cutting off whatever argument Gavin had been trying to make. It only took a few minutes to reserve a seat on a trans-Atlantic flight that would reach New York City tomorrow evening. Tossing the phone onto the table, he stalked over to grab a white button down shirt off the rolling garment rack that had been installed shortly after his arrival at the venue. The first goal was to get out of the stadium and back to the hotel where he could shower and change in peace, and where he could have Madison cut his hair so that he could escape London without drawing notice.

 

The phone rang as he reached for his black leather jacket—entirely unnecessary since it was late June, but he'd worn it out of habit. Snatching the phone up, he grimaced when he read the number on the caller ID but answered it, anyway. “What?”

 

“Forget it, Evan. Just stay where you are,” Bas growled without bothering with any sort of pleasantries.

 

Tamping down the irritation that welled up inside him, Evan grimaced, fangs glinting in the harsh light of the changing room and willed himself to loosen his hold on the phone before he crushed it in his fist. “Fuck you, Bassie-boy. You can't tell me what to do.”

 

“Listen you little runt-fucker, if you're smart, you'll stay where you are. The last thing we need is for you to blow her cover with one of your idiotic displays,” Bas shot back.

 

Evan snorted, catching the telephone between his shoulder and ear as he patted his pockets for a sorely-needed smoke. “Was it your idea to keep me out of the loop, Bas-tard?” he demanded, pulling a mangled but still smoke-able joint out of his zippered breast pocket and catching it between his lips as he fumbled for a lighter.

 

“Evan—”

 

“Put Mom on the phone.”

 

“She's not here. She's in Japan.”

 

“Wha . . . ? Why?”

 

Bas sighed. “Aunt Nezumi miscarried, and Dad thought it'd be better for her not to be here at the moment, anyway.”

 

“So Mom doesn't even know that Jilli is being stalked?”

 

Bas sighed again. “No.”

 

“Nice to know that you're all lumping me in with the women,” he grumbled.

 

“Don't be a baby. We're trying to do what's best for Jillian.”

 

“Oh, come off it! You don't give a holy rotten damn about what's best for Jillian! It's nothing but another one of your fucking power trips, and you know it!” he blasted, letting the joint fall onto the table as his anger crested.

 

“Damn it, Evan! Why can't you get it through your thick skull? This isn't about me or you or anyone else! It's about Jillian and what's best for her! Now knock off your bullshit and leave it the hell alone!” Bas snarled.

 

“You know, I haven't had to listen to your ration of shit since we were pups, bubby, and I sure as hell ain't gonna do it now, either! She's my sister, and—”

 

“—And she's mine, too, and I'm telling you that you need to stay out of this. We've got it under control; we're taking care of everything. Just back off before you cause more damage.”

 

Growling low in his throat, Evan's grip tightened on the digital device. The plastic creaked ominously, and he forced himself to slacken his hold. “Look, you pompous bastard, Jilli's in danger, and I'll be damned if I'll just sit here and let you and Gunnar take your sweet fucking time catching the son of a bitch.”

 

“It's not your concern,” Bas insisted. “You're the one who chose to abandon the family. You can't pick and choose your moments.”

 

“I did . . . what?” Evan bellowed. “The fuck I did!”

 

“The fuck you didn't! You're the one who changed your name and ran off to be a rock star. You're the one who can't be bothered to call home more than once every six months! Do you have any idea how upset Mom gets because she hadn't heard from her widdle baby brat? Do you even care? Step off, Evan! We don't need your help! You've never known how to `help'. All you've ever done is fuck things up—it's what you're best at, isn't it? Why don't you do everyone a favor and stay in your little rock-star-bubble? Just leave the dirty work to those of us who give a great goddamn!”

 

“Fuck you, Sebastian,” Evan ground out quietly. “Fuck you all.”

 

Slapping the phone closed, Evan hurled it away as the door opened. The device flew past a very stunned Madison. She choked out a tiny scream as the phone whizzed past her face, missing her by a fraction of an inch before smashing into the wall. Whipping around, she threw her arms over her face in time to avoid being blasted by bits of debris as the phone exploded on impact. The action didn't bring Evan any sort of satisfaction. Wheeling around on his heel, he swung at the first object he saw. The wall trembled as his fist slammed through the drywall. The steel structure beam clanged as bits of plaster crumbled from the ceiling, falling on Evan like snow in December.

 

“Sorry,” Evan growled, sounding anything but contrite for the near-miss.

 

Madison grimaced at the indent left by the cell phone and pulled the door closed quietly. “Bone told me,” she said softly. “How's Jilli?”

 

“Fucking . . .” He sighed, drawing a deep breath to calm his raging temper. “She's fine—for now.”

 

“Good . . . I take it no one's told her about the car?”

 

Evan snorted, stalking the room and flexing his knuckles. He shook his hand to alleviate the sting. He'd torn his knuckles open when he'd hit the wall . . . “Of course not! They treat her like a baby or something,” he complained.

 

Madison smiled. “And you don't?”

 

He shrugged. “Not nearly as much as they do.”

 

Maddy shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest as she sauntered toward him. He could see the questions in the depths of her violet eyes, but he ignored them, perversely set to make her ask them before he'd offer any real answers. “There's more to it, isn't there?” she finally mused.

 

“She's being stalked. They think the same guy is the one who fucked with the car.”

 

“What?”

 

“Mom doesn't know, Jilli doesn't know, and they weren't going to tell me, either.”

 

“Evan . . .”

 

Digging into his pocket for a lighter, Evan swiped the joint up off the table where it'd fallen during his `discussion' with Bas. “You know something? I hate him.”

 

Madison nodded. “I don't blame you. Maybe he's mentally ill.”

 

“Not him—though I hate him, too . . . I'm talking about that fucking dick of a brother of mine.”

 

“Bas?”

 

“Do I have another brother?” he snarled then shook his head, pausing only long enough to light the joint and toss down the lighter before resuming his pacing once more.

 

She sighed, peeling off the tailored black leather jacket that covered her sheer black bra. Her nipples were hardened, and she reached for a red silk shirt—Evan's, of course—that was slung over the back of a chair without comment.

 

“Stupid prick's always had everything handed to him, and he's never even cared,” Evan fumed.

 

“Is this about Sydnie again?” she asked, Sydnie being Sebastian's mate. Evan had been well past mere irritation when Bas had nearly fumbled their relationship in the first few months of being married, and Madison knew it. He made a face as she shook out the shirt, turning it to and fro as she examined it, probably to make sure it was clean.

 

Evan snorted. “Keh! He was too damn stupid to know that he was making her miserable, wasn't he?”

 

Madison glanced over her shoulder. “That was just in the beginning, and he's been wonderful to her since.”

 

“Still a fucking bastard,” he protested.

 

“She doesn't seem to be complaining,” Madison pointed out reasonably, pulling the shirt on.

 

“Yeah, and that makes it all okay, doesn't it?”

 

She brushed his sarcasm aside. “Bas and you used to get along pretty well,” she mused.

 

He shot her a dark glance, dragging long and deep off the joint before answering. “Did we? I don't remember.”

 

She rolled her eyes but stepped into his path. Pushing the unbuttoned shirt down her arms, Evan let his hands linger on her shoulders as the fabric fell to the floor with a whisper. Madison Cartham had been Evan's best friend for as long as he could remember. She understood him; he never had to explain his thoughts or feelings to her. Kindred spirits, he supposed, or at least as close as there could be. It was clear to the both of them that they weren't mates, but the three of them—Evan, Jillian, and Madison—had grown up together. The difference had always been that whenever Gavin was around, Evan and Madison had come in a distant second in Jilli's affections. It was fine, wasn't it? Jillian told Evan that Gavin was her mate, and he . . . well, he believed his sister . . . As for Madison? Well, she had always wanted to be a beautician, and at the moment, she was employed as Zel Roka's makeup and hair goddess—a gig that kept her close to him, which was exactly where he always wanted her to be.

 

Madison smiled a little sadly as she reached up, brushing his hair out of his face with a gentle hand. Sometimes she knew him a little too well, didn't she? “Sweetie . . .”

 

Snorting derisively though he didn't try to pull away from her, Evan leaned into her touch, allowing himself to accept a measure of comfort from the one person on earth who actually understood him. “He said I abandoned the family,” he grumbled, slipping the joint between Madison's ruby red lips. “Bullshit . . . I'm protecting them, goddamnit. Like a damn one of them really wants to be associated with Zel Roka, especially not fucking Bassie-boy.”

 

“What'll you do?” Madison asked, dragging deep off the joint and breathing in the toxic air. Her eyes slipped closed for just a moment, and she smiled vaguely.

 

“What can I fucking do? No one wants me there, damn it . . . Don't smoke the whole thing, bitch!” he growled though his tone remained rather affectionate.

 

She giggled, letting him take the joint away as she slung her arms around his neck. “You've got more; I know you do,” she countered.

 

“Back at the hotel, yeah.”

 

“Then maybe we should find another way for you to work out your aggressions?” she offered with a raised eyebrow. Trailing her hands down his body, she dropped to her knees in front of him.

 

“You gonna fuck me?” he asked.

 

She shook her head as she tugged at the zipper on his low-rise leather pants, pulling his penis free and rubbing it against the rise of her breasts. “Nope . . . you're going to fuck me.”

 

“Stop playing with your food, Maddy,” he growled but finally chuckled, smashing the end of the joint in a battered tin ashtray as Madison lowered her mouth over him . . .

 

 

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A/N:

Bear with me … there's a real reason I'mdoing an Evan chapter, I swear … lol!

 

EVAN ALERT! Melzilla has done a kickin' fanart of Evan … check it out on her DA page: http://melzilla.deviantart.com …

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Final Thought fromEvan:

…Fucking Bas …

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Shameless): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~