The three of us stared at the paper, none of us saying a word for way too long.
Carter scratched his head, rereading the top of the paper again in his mind. It doesn't make sense, he thought.
He was right. I couldn't figure it out.
"What's Black Rose?" Carter finally asked.
"A bar maybe." Lola shrugged.
"Or it could be a tattoo parlor or antique shop or something," I added.
"I...don't get it," Carter said.
"Well, it's a job application." Lola pointed to the blank spots on the form where someone would fill in their information. "Like one you'd get from a business if you were—"
"I know what a job application looks like." Carter scowled. "I just...don't understand why."
"If Damien got fired from the psychic shop, he'd probably need to find another job soon," Lola responded with a shrug.
"I get that much," Carter began, "but..."
"Why would this be the only thing in his bag," I finished his thought when he trailed off.
"Yeah." Carter nodded. "Exactly."
"Maybe he passed this Black Rose place on the way to the old burnt down psychic shop and decided to grab one to fill out later," Lola suggested.
"Maybe," I drew the word out. It made sense, but not completely. I took a seat on the curb, resting my elbows on my knees. I needed to think. We were missing something.
"But if he just stopped in to grab this," I finally said, "that means he would have brought a completely empty bag with him. Why bring a bag if he wasn't carrying anything in it?"
"What if he didn't bring it to carry something to the house," Lola began, "but was expecting to find something there to take away."
"There was nothing down there though," Carter said. "Just that hearth, and it was built into the ground."
"So whatever he was looking for, he didn't find it." I stared at the blank job application. There were places on the form for information like phone number and home address. "Dammit," I muttered under my breath, grabbing a fist full of dry leaves and crumpling them. Pain shot through the bite on my palm, and I tried not to wince. I tossed the leaves to the side in frustration. "Why couldn't he have just filled it out first?" We could have used it to find him.
Lola chewed on her bottom lip. "We need to go here." She tapped the top of the paper, where "Black Rose" was written in stylized calligraphy. "If Damien wanted to apply for a job there, maybe it's somewhere he goes a lot. Maybe someone that works there would know him."
"Or maybe he'll go back to get another application," Carter said. "Considering he lost this one."
"Good idea," I said. "It's got to be nearby." I stood and glanced up and down the street like an idiot expecting to just see the place right here. Thankfully, neither Carter nor Lola caught me doing it.
"I can't find it on my phone," Lola said. "The search doesn't come up with anything."
"There's an address at the bottom of the page," Carter said. "It says 606 Second Avenue. Maybe try that?"
Lola glanced at the bottom of the page where Carter was pointing, quickly transcribing it into her phone. "Got it! Looks like it's only a mile from here." A half smile spread across her face as she looked up from the screen. "We can walk a mile."
***
Second Avenue ran adjacent to Ocean Avenue, just one block from the beach. While Ocean had access to the boardwalk and was lined with mostly tourist shops and overpriced seafood restaurants, Second contained a more...eclectic mix. The shops were seedier and stranger, and the dimly lit bars and sketchy nightclubs were enough to make anyone feel right in hell.
"This is the address, right?" Carter asked.
The three of us stood in front of a black door on a windowless building. "Apartment 606" was written above it in small gold letters. A set of doorbells with room numbers and last names was next to it, but the weather and time had worn the writing away to the point it was illegible. Other than that, there was no sign this place had been occupied anytime within the past decade.
"That's what it said online," Lola said. "606 Second Avenue."
"I thought you said this place was a bar." Carter crossed his arms over his chest. "It just looks like an apartment."
"I was just guessing it might be," Lola said. "I don't know for sure."
"What if it's a speakeasy or something?" I suggested.
"This isn't the twenties," Carter replied.
"Technically, it is the twenties," Lola said.
I couldn't help but chuckle. Lola flashed me a small smile, her face turning slightly red.
"Haha. Good one." Carter rolled his eyes. "Either way, this place doesn't look open."
Lola took out her phone and glanced at it. "It's only three in the afternoon. It probably doesn't open until late."
"Search for it again," Carter said. "There has to be something online about it with opening times or something."
"Give me a second," Lola said. "I have a message from my dad. I need to text him back. Why don't you check?"
Carter groaned and took out his own phone. "Mine's almost dead."
As Carter and Lola bickered like an old married couple, I paced along the outside of the building. It was weird there weren't any signs for Black Rose on the front...like they didn't want people finding out what it was or how to get in. Maybe it was just a well hidden speakeasy, but something seemed off. Surely there would be at least some sign of how to get in.
What kind of place was this?
The thick black paint on the walls chipped off the original red brickwork, and some half-painted over graffiti lined the sides. I reached the corner of the building, where an alley separated it from an adjacent building that looked like an old restaurant or bar.
Old grocery bags, plastic cups, and other unidentifiable rubbish littered the narrow, cobblestone street. A chill rushed through me. Something about this entire street felt wrong. It was the middle of the day in the off season, sure, but why was there no one else here?
Before I knew what I was doing, my feet led me down the alley. I stopped at the halfway point, the shade from the building casting the entire space in an eerie shadow. Then I saw it—a metal door painted completely black. Written on it in small red letters in the same calligraphy style as the application were the words "Black Rose."
"Jay?" Carter's voice called in the distance.
"Where are you?" Lola yelled. "Jay?"
I turned back just in time to see them standing at the edge of the alley.
"Why'd you run off?" Carter asked as the two of them approached, meeting me in front of the side door entrance.
"I was just looking around." I gestured to the words on the door and flashed them a smirk. "I think I found the way in."
"How do they expect anyone to find this door?" Carter asked.
"I kind of think that's the point," I replied.
"Yeah, it definitely doesn't seem like a place that advertises itself," Lola said, her eyes glued to her phone. "It's more difficult to find information on it than you'd think."
I tried to glance at her screen, but she held it close to her face, keeping it just out of eyeshot.
"Okay, I think I found something," she finally said. "There's a blog post about the place. It says it's a nightclub and music venue. Apparently there's a band playing here tonight at eight. It has a link to where you can buy tickets."
"Perfect," Carter said. "Let's just get tickets and we'll come back tonight and look for Damien. Even if he isn't here, we can probably ask someone that works here if they've seen him before—"
"Shit," Lola cut off his rambling.
"What?" I asked.
"It's sold out."
"Well, maybe we can figure out a way in anyway," Carter said. "The two of you can read minds, after all." Surely you can figure out some way to trick your way in.
"Yeah," I said. "Maybe..."
"We have to at least give it a try," Carter said.
"Okay," I said. He was right. Even if we couldn't get in, we might see Damien outside. We could ask people questions about him, and even if they didn't answer, their thoughts might give something away. "You're right. This is our best shot."
"There's just one more problem," Lola said.
"What now?" Carter asked.
"I have to go shopping."
"Shopping?" I raised an eyebrow.
"We don't have time to go to the mall, Lola," Carter said. "We've kind of got more important things to deal with right now."
"This is important! I can't go to a club in...this." She gestured to her ripped jeans and the cropped maroon sweatshirt that revealed a small strip of skin at her middrift.
"You look good in that," I said, but it was a lie. I didn't think she looked good. I thought she looked hot as hell.
But what did I know about fashion? Maybe this place had a dress code or something.
Lola shook her head. "If we are going to try to get in, we at least have to look the part. Plus, we have four hours to kill before the place even opens."
She turned to Carter, looking him up and down and assessing his attire. She pulled at the slightly damp fabric of his grunge-blue hoodie. "This won't work at all." She shook her head. "You're going to need a new outfit too."
Carter rolled his eyes. "Seriously?" I hate shopping.
"Too bad," she said.
"What about me?" I asked.
She chuckled, barely even glancing at what I was wearing. "Oh don't worry. From what I've read on this blog...I think you'll blend right in."