fired up the machine. “It has the Star Bridge and you can unlock new characters if you have the hidden code, plus there are these secret menus. All kinds of crazy shit. Way better than the PlayStation version.”
“Isn’t there supposed to be a guide or something in these escape rooms?” Persey asked, recalling the actor from the Hidden Library, dressed as the ghost of a Cistercian monk, who explained what the group’s goal should be and helped corral them toward the initial clues. “So we know what we’re looking—”
Before she could finish, a singing voice rang out strong and clear.
“Welcome to the Boyz Distrikt!”
AT FIRST, PERSEY THOUGHT THE SINGING MUST BE coming through the loudspeakers, like the voice of the countdown, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement at the top of the stairs. Someone new had joined them.
He was young, Persey was pretty sure: even though he wore aviator glasses that hid his eyes, his baby face was clean-shaven and wrinkle-free. But despite his youthful appearance, his outfit, just like the room they were in, was painfully dated. His spiky hair was frosted at the tips, and he wore baggy acid-wash jeans that were at least one size too big, cinched at the waist with a leather belt. He’d paired those jeans with a “Hollister, CA” T-shirt beneath a dark denim jacket with the confusing addition of a tweed men’s suit vest—similar to the one Riot wore—over both, and peeking out from the hem of his jeans was a distinctive yellow-beige pair of Timberlands.
“Where did he come from?” Riot asked.
“He’s on your side of the room,” Shaun said. “Didn’t you see?”
“I believe our visitor entered through the main set of doors,” Neela said. “Though I neither saw nor heard them open. Most likely some ingenious design made so that he would seem to appear out of thin air.”
“Do you narrate the world with every single thought that pops into your head?” Mackenzie asked. “Or are you some kind of witch just making shit up as you go?”
“Aha!” Neela said, forcing a laugh before Persey could jump to her defense. “The black arts! I do not partake of them, good madam.”
“Don’t you want to know what the Boyz Distrikt is?” the newcomer sang, sounding confused by their lack of immediate interest.
“I suppose you’re going to tell us!” Kevin warbled in an off-key response, his voice crackling with suppressed laughter.
“My name is Beeeee Jaaaaay,” he sang, stretching out the syllables of “B.J.” “And I’m a member of…” He paused, swinging down to one knee and cupping his chin with his hand like he was posing for a photo shoot. “Boyz Distrikt!”
“I think we’re supposed to ask what Boyz Distrikt is,” Arlo said flatly, her former bossiness returning.
“Ab-so-lute-ly!” B.J. sang. This wasn’t going to be annoying (torture) or anything….
But Shaun answered for him, pointing to one of the framed records on the wall. “They’re a band. ‘Distrikt’ with a k.”
B.J. leaped back to his feet. “Because everything spelled with a K is”—he took a breath—“special.” He let out a melismatic R&B vocal run on the first syllable that made Persey’s head spin.
“Swoon,” Mackenzie said, approaching B.J. with one of her signature smiles. “I actually love boy bands. For reals. And your voice is en pointe.” As if flirting with the paid Escape-Capades employee was going to help her in any way. “Now can you tell us what we’re supposed to be looking for?”
It was the cue B.J. had been waiting for. He pulled a handheld remote from the pocket of his jeans, pointed it at the computer Neela had been poring over, and clicked a button. Immediately, a techno beat filled the room’s speakers, and B.J., using the top of the stairs like a stage, launched into a carefully choreographed dance routine while he sang along to a familiar tune.
“Everybody,
Listen to me.
Together,
You must find the key.
Boyz Distrikt knows what’s right!”
“Sweet baby Jesus,” Riot said. “Is he doing Backstreet Boys?”
Kevin kicked his legs up on the sofa. “I wish I had some popcorn. This show is epic.”
“Shh!” Shaun hissed. “Some of us are trying to listen.”
Persey had gotten half-lost in the song-and-dance number. B.J. was actually pretty talented. His dance moves were sharp, his singing voice on key, and she wondered if he’d moved to Vegas to try to get a job in one of the many Broadway shows installed in various casinos.