“I just remember he was medium tall,” says Doxie. “Brown hair, but not like brown brown, you know?”
“Don’t worry about descriptions,” says Bellagio. “I’m not that kind of sketch artist.” He ties the last thread of clarity, leaving a translucent web around her head. She doesn’t seem to notice.
“Okay. But he was white.” Doxie chews her nail; Bellagio picks up his pad.
“What’s your middle name, Doxie?” He gathers the end of the clarity and wraps his wrist.
“Dolores. Does that matter?”
“It certainly does,” he says, and the humming clarity twitches his pencil through the first broken line.
“But curling your fingers is actually the slowest part,” Chili John is explaining. “So you slap hard and get some friction, flick it out of the holster, then worry about getting to the trigger on the way up–”
The Teacher is shaking his head. “You still think it matters, how fast your draw?”
Chili John lets himself grin a little at that. “I’ve stood at twenty paces at high noon on the street before, and I reckon I might again, so yeah, I do.”
“Wrong,” says the Teacher harshly. “Only one speed matters, boy. You’re still as slow as your bullet.”
“Do you exist?”
“Of course.”
“How do you know?”
“Cogito, ergo–”
“Not good enough.” Chicago shakes her head. “I don’t believe that anymore, there’s nothing to it. It’s turtles all the way down.”
“Have you got something better?”
“I don’t have to offer anything,” she says, “strictly.”
Grand nods. “Just getting your kicks in at dead white guys, then. Real productive.”
“No.” She goes to the railing and leans over. “I am because I demand to be.”
He picks up the soccer ball and spins it. “Makes you want to spit, right?”
“I bet I can hit that guy,” she says.
MON
parmesan cheese (brick or wedge not Kraft stuff)
cat food for Alexa’s sci fr proj
peroxide
band-aids (batman or power rangers)
TUE
gelatin for Alexa
also universal AC adapter (???) get at W-Mart?
frozen pizzas
oj & milk
check: is flashlight still in hall closet? put by back door
WED
O’Doul’s for MJ @ bridge nite
bread
dishwasher packet thingies
Alexa: more peroxide, aluminum foil, sewing kit, vinegar
call landlord about raccoons or whatever
THU
raw meat, like ground chuck, 2 lbs
ok seriously have a talk with Alexa
call teacher re: sci fr reqs etc.
FRI
ammo
ammo ammo ammo
The spin of the kleptoslug has slowed, but its forward velocity hasn’t slackened. The air thunders around them and Naomi gets a little leverage, swings up and kicks Hurley in the jaw. Not that he goes far. The klepto’s core magnet binds his bracelet as tightly as her own, and Naomi’s just glad her earrings have silver posts.
Hurley’s next punch flips her backward: they spin, and Naomi gets her first blurry look down. They’re flying parallel to the gridlocked freeway. Her nose is dripping blood, but the iron makes the drops fall sideways. Below, as they pass, the cars undomino.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” asks the Honcho.
“No sir,” says Leech, and checks the line: still strong and purple. The blood girl sits up on her stool and stares. Her lips are blue-gray, but she’s not empty yet.
“Hurts me.” He fingers his soaking bandages.
“Careful, sir.”
“Don’t suppose you’d know,” he murmurs. “Only the little ones make enough, so fast…” He’s asleep.
But Leech does know, does remember. She sat here once. She stared straight forward. She can still taste the hot sick broth, after, and the kale, and the hunger for her woman’s blood and freedom that never came.
“I’m a stone-cold bastard hell-bent on revenge,” he adds helpfully.
Ninian looks impressed.
“No good will come of me, is what I’m saying.” He shakes his head. “Good thing there’s that three-day wait, right?” His feet are bare, and the white shirt tucked out from under his fleece is a cartoon sneer.
“There are ways around that,” she chuckles.
“Oh.”
She holds up the Deagle on one finger, letting it dangle, so big and fat and bright.
“You can sell me a gun, then?” His eyes are puppies.
Ninian nods gently, easy now.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
Raj walks by the alley. There’s mist and blue light in there, and it goes like: OOOMMM
Raj actually has to take an alley as a shortcut. It’s not the same alley, but the first alley somehow opens off in the middle of this one. It sounds like those monks on the Chant CD look. Raj wonders what ever happened to Chant.
After dinner, when Raj closes the refrigerator door, the alley is squeezed between its white bulk and the wall. OOOMMM
“Look, I’m not going to feed you,” says Raj.
OOOMMM
“Whatever,” says Raj.
Later it hides under his bed.