“Why?”
“Unless things have changed in the past year, liquor isn’t free.”
She stares at me.
“I don’t carry cash.”
“Of course you don’t, your highness.”
I look at Sinclair.
“How about you? You too good to touch filthy lucre?”
He pulls a wad from his pocket enclosed in a gold money clip. Peels off a twenty.
“Don’t fuck with me.”
He peels off another.
“Keep going. I tip big.”
I stop him at a hundred dollars. He holds the bills out like I might bite his hand off. It’s tempting.
I walk to a shadow and put the bills in my pocket.
“Don’t wait up.”
“I don’t want you coming back drunk,” says Sandoval.
“Don’t worry. I’ll look pretty for class pictures tomorrow.”
One more step and the shadow swallows me.
I know those two are going to fuck me over, but I don’t know how, and until I do I’m going to have to dance their dance, take my lumps, and smile the whole time. Howardis the one I need to keep an eye on. The necromancer is the Blue Fairy to my Pinocchio and I want to be a real boy again. If things go sideways, the others can fry. Howard though? I won’t let anyone touch a hair on his stinking head.
I step out of the shadow onto Hollywood Boulevard a few blocks west of Las Palmas and Maximum Overdrive, the video store where I live. Or used to. Who knows now? Up ahead, Donut Universe shines like the Virgin Mary doing barrel rolls over Lourdes, so I head over.
BEFORE I GO inside there’s the matter of Roger’s cigarette. There’s no one on the street I can bum a light from, which leaves me with one option. I put the smoke in my mouth and cup my hands around it. Whisper some Hellion hoodoo. A small flame flickers up from my palm, just big enough for me to spark the cigarette. It’s a relief, and I don’t mean just getting to smoke. I haven’t done any hoodoo since coming back and I didn’t want Sandoval and Sinclair to see me in case I blew it. Now I want to try something bigger, but what I’m best at is breaking things, so I’ll wait until there’s something I want to see in pieces.
The Sherman is a decent smoke in its own way, but it doesn’t have the bite of a Malediction, the most popular cigarette in Hell. I had a whole box stashed upstairs at Max Overdrive. Wonder if they’re still there. More important, I wonder if I should even go near the place again. What if I run into Candy? The last time she saw me, I was dying with a knife in my back. I’ve been gone a year. What’s her life like now? A year is long enough to move past whatever grief she might have felt back then. The good news is that I saw her outside Max Overdrive the night I came back from Hell, so I know she and the store are still around.
The truth is, I want to run inside and see her right now. But what if things don’t work out with Wormwood? It’s almost Thursday and I could be gone again by Sunday. Is it fair to stumble back into her life when I could just as easily stumble out again? The answer is simple. Seeing her now wouldn’t even be close to fair. So, for the moment I’ll ke
ep to myself and see how this insane fucking situation plays out. It’s a lonely feeling, but I’m almost used to that.
What’s really getting to me is that as much as I missed her in Hell, it’s a hundred times worse being back. My perfect, beautiful monster. During my last look at her she was in her Jade form, tearing Audsley Ishii apart. That’s how you know someone really likes you. Anyone can give you chocolate and flowers, but when they’ll disembowel someone for you? That’s true love.
I crush the Sherman under my heel and go inside Donut Universe.
The smell that hits me is almost overwhelming. Familiar and alien at the same time. Hellion food tastes like what a butcher shop throws in the trash and then a hobo sleeps on it for a couple of days. But what’s on the shelves in this shop …
If I have to die again, let it be in Donut Universe. Bury me in old-fashioneds and éclairs. Burn me in the parking lot and let me drift up to Valhalla on a wave of holy sugar and grease fumes.
When it’s my turn, I step up to the counter, where a pretty young woman asks me what I want. Like the rest of the Donut Universe staff, she wears little antennae with silver balls on the end. The balls bop gently as she speaks. My friend Cindil wore antennae like that when she worked here. Back before she was murdered. I can’t ever come in here without thinking of her. But I brought her back from Hell and now she has a pretty decent new life. She even plays drums in Candy’s terrible band. Or she did a year ago. Where is she now?
Goddammit. Memory is such a bastard when you don’t know if any of it’s true anymore. Candy. Cindil. Max Overdrive. L.A. That’s hard to lose and maybe harder to get back when you don’t know if you can keep it.
“Sir?” says the antennae girl. “Do you want a donut?”