by Sawyer Black
It hurt that the sight of her made him feel so good.
And Samantha has Stone. Stop whining.
Boothe extended his hand, and Maria took it with a smile. He turned with her trailing behind him and traced a circle in the air. Now, granted permission by Heaven, Boothe was finally able to bring them back to Earth. White fire spiraled a bright window into existence, and Boothe held out his hand, inviting them to walk through.
Henry took Aela’s hand and walked forward. He saw Frank offer his hand to Ramiel, but the angel declined with a curt shake of his head. “Suit yourself,” Frank said.
Henry laughed as he entered the light.
Boothe’s apartment hadn’t changed a bit. Well, except that the destruction and mess he’d left were now cleaned up. New items replacing the ones he’d destroyed.
Henry felt like he was finally home, but a nervousness gnawed at his gut as he wondered who’d cleaned up the place. Maybe someone else had moved in, and —
Then he smelled cigarette smoke before seeing it swirl away from the open hand coming at his face.
His head rocked back from Nadia’s slap, and he stepped into Aela, keeping his body between the two women.
“You son of a bitch!” Nadia shouted. “Where have you been?”
Charlie Mara jumped up from the couch, his black ponytail flying out behind him. His small eyes were wide, wrinkling his eyebrows up into his hairline. He grabbed Nadia’s hand, dragging her back. “Hang on there, girl.”
Henry spun and wrapped Aela up, holding her hands at her sides. Both fists were full of steel, demon-killing energy swirling from the blade’s razor-sharp edges. “She’s a friend.”
Ramiel and Frank came through the portal. Frank’s face brightened. “Charlie!”
Charlie smiled back. “Hey, Frank.” Nadia’s hands turned to black scales, claws springing out to slice Charlie’s black work shirt, drawing dark blood to flow down his arm. “Oww, holy fuck!”
“Let me go, Henry,” Aela growled.
“Not a fucking chance. She’s pissed at me, and I deserve it.”
Boothe pulled Maria through the portal, and his face hardened as he released the energy in a whirling fizzle. “What’s all this?”
“What do you mean, you deserve it?” Aela snarled. “What did you do?”
“You took that boy off to die,” Nadia shouted. She struggled in Charlie’s grasp, but he dragged her hands down, pinning them to her hips.
“Nothing,” Henry said.
“You took my boy off to die?” Frank turned to Henry. "When was this?”
Boothe rolled his eyes at Frank. “Oh, come on. You know Henry was bringing him to find you.”
Maria laughed. “Is that how you remember it? Moro viejo nunca será buen cristiano.”
Frank shook his head in confusion. “Is that Spanish?”
Nadia stopped struggling, drilling Henry with a vicious stare. “Not a phone call or message of any kind?”
“Yes, that’s how I remember it,” Boothe said.
Henry turned back to Aela. “I’m a terrible friend, okay? I’m a terrible everything. Just calm the fuck down.”
Maria put her hands on her hips. “He was running from you, Walden.”
Charlie grinned. “Your first name is Walden?”
Henry laughed, “That was my reaction.”
Aela pulled against Henry’s grip, but there was no hope of getting free. She looked up into his eyes, anger curling her lips. “Don’t tell me to calm down.”
Maria pointed at Boothe’s chest. “You were trying to get poor Henry to kill that boy.”
Boothe spread his hands. “Poor Henry?”
“What?” Nadia cried, her dagger gaze sweeping over to Boothe.
Frank leaned back and crossed his arms. “I knew a demon named Weston, once.”
“We’ve been over this,” Boothe said.
“You tried to get Henry to kill Adam?” Nadia said. “Mandyel was right about you.”
Boothe turned to her, his brows drawing together. “He was right about me how?”
Aela stomped on Henry’s foot, her face turning red. “Let me go, Henry.”
“Fuck no.”
“Why would you do that?” Nadia demanded.
“I was told to.” Boothe turned back to Maria. “I had just gotten you back. I was made an angel. How could I lose that? How could I lose you again?”
Maria crossed her arms and shook her head. “Calladita te ves mas bonita.”
Frank looked at the ceiling. “Or was it Watson?”
Too many people talking and it was building up like some tea kettle’s whistle in Henry’s mind. He had to shut everyone up and restore civility before someone really got hurt.
Henry tipped his head back and roared.
“Could everyone just shut the fuck up?”
Quiet.
All eyes on him.
“We’re all on the same side. Everything has been worked out, and whatever misunderstandings there were, who wanted to kill who, that shit’s all done now. Now we’re all on the same page. We’ve got a fucking mission to do and no time to stand around bitching.”
Aela and Nadia both stood down, relaxing their shoulders.
Henry went to the kitchen, muttering curses to himself, throwing his arms up in frustration and snatched the old plastic pitcher from the counter. He stuck it under the faucet and watched the room recover while he filled the pitcher with cold water.
Maria was the first to speak, “Ladies,” she purred. “Let’s chat.”
Nadia nodded. Aela set her jaw and followed Maria to the kitchenette.
Boothe stood, smoothing his hair. “I’m going out. We need information.”
Henry refilled his pitcher, and Charlie looked with a wary glance that slid over Henry to the women sitting around the table. “I think I’ll go with you.”
Charlie looked at Frank, who was fixing the bottom button on his Hawaiian shirt. “You coming?”
Frank waved him off. “No way.” He pointed to the corner behind Henry. “He’s got a popcorn machine.”
Boothe moved to the front door, and Charlie jogged to catch up. Frank walked by and slapped Henry on the arm. Water sloshed over his face, and Henry bent over to cough up what he’d drawn up his nose.
He slammed the pitcher down and headed to the bedroom. As he closed the door, Maria’s voice floated through. “So, Nadia. What did you think of Charlie?”
Henry closed the door behind him and leaned back against it with his eyes aimed at the ceiling. He thought of praying for guidance, but considering this year, he doubted anyone was listening.
Chapter Twenty
Henry flopped onto the bed, flinging his arm over his eyes. He spun the knob to an empty spot on the dial then fell asleep to silence.
No dreams or dark thoughts to mar his empty bliss.
His own voice woke him. Filtering through the door with the whining Burg City accent he played up on-stage. Laying it on thick for the crowd and the cameras. The special he’d taped before his death. The one that was gonna lead to an extended absence. More writing. Producing. Maybe even some directing. It was the turning point of his career, and he was going to be home so much more.
“So, I’m getting coffee in, let’s just say, a not so safe area. And … I don’t like to make assumptions about a place or people just because it’s always on the fucking news for murders, but … sometimes, well … you know.”
He remembered the awkward grin he gave followed by the audience’s groans. Henry also remembered the nervous energy of the mostly liberal crowd thinking he was going to make a racist joke or something. And Henry loved playing with audience expectations.
“So, it’s like, barely four in the morning, and I’m not even awake. This black guy comes up to me wearing red from head to toe. Shoes. Tracksuit. Hat. He grins with a mouthful of gold teeth, and he goes, ‘Yo, I know you.’ And I’m thinking, um … I don’t think so, but I don’t say that, because, I don’t wanna get … well…
”
He’d made a finger gesture like a gun shooting and the audience groaned again.
“What? I’m not saying he might have shot me because he’s black but because it’s fucking Murder City. Did you not hear the part before? Okay, forget it, he was a white dude in all red, does that make it better? Jesus.”
The audience laughed, but Henry wasn’t done yet.
“Anyway, the very, very, like exceedingly white guy, even whiter than me, turns all excited and yells to the back. Like, right at the glass wall of coolers with all the energy drinks and liquor. He goes, ‘Yo, it’s that motherfuckin’ clown I was telling you about!’ Really loud, too. Him calling me a clown, I thought maybe he’d seen my show. Liked my album, you know?”
Henry sat up and crossed his legs underneath him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“So, I lean out away from all the coffee pots. You’ve been to Speedway, right? A mountain of twelve pots of coffee with different names, tryin’ to be fancy and shit with their descriptions but they all taste exactly the same? Then you’ve got a pyramid of wrinkled fucking hot dogs that look like dismembered geriatric cocks rolling on a grill since the Johnson administration? Seriously, who the fuck is eating that shit? I’m fat, and not particularly known for my discriminate palette — true story, I once ate a Cinnabon I found on a mall bench — but I won’t even touch those things. So what kind of fat fuck do you have to be to eat those severed old man dicks? I mean, you really must hate yourself to be eating those!
“So, anyway, I lean out, and this giant black guy turns toward me, is it okay if this guy is black? Because he looks just fucking like Biggie Smalls, and I can’t exactly say he’s a white dude too, okay? So, Not Biggie lets the cooler shut and comes over. He’s wearing a white suit, and he’s got a black silk scarf around his neck. I’m not making this up. True story. A white bowler’s hat, and a white cane with a gold tip.”
Henry nodded. He had told the story exactly as it had happened, only leaving out the six Little Debbies he was going to buy and eat on his way home. He’d hidden the wrappers, too.
“He comes rolling out of the back, driving his cane into the floor like he was making a beat. Like he was about to freestyle, and I actually looked around for cameras, like I had gotten sucked into a music video. Then, one more dude is with him, a short steroid fat dude, you know the kind I’m talking about, used to be on the juice and jacked, but now … just fat. And he’s wearing a puffy coat and gold chains, and a hat at that angle that schlumpy tubs like me can never quite figure out. And I’m like, ‘Who the fuck are these people and why do I always run into them?’
“So, Fat Steroids says, in a Russian accent, by the way, and everything always sounds so much more sinister in a Russian accent, ya’ know? He says, ‘Man, what you did to them kids.’
“I fucking freeze. I’m thinking, what kids? What did I do to them kids?! Not Biggie reached into his pocket, and I think for sure he’s gonna shoot me or something. And not because he’s black! But he pulls out an iPhone instead, and says, ‘Yo, clown, you wanna see the pictures?’
“I taste a little bit of vomit, like, I have no idea what these pictures are of, but I know I don’t want to see them. Nothing good can come from this situation, in Murder City at the ass crack of dawn, with a bunch of shriveled dicks and Not Biggie and his Russian dude and the very, very white dude, and … I just start thinking of all the pedophiles you see on TV and their mugshots, and it’s almost always some pasty, balding, fat fucking white dude, just like me. And they must be mistaking me for some piece of shit kiddy diddler, right? So, I just figure I’m dead. I mean, I’m certainly not gonna outrun them. I mean, yeah, he’s fucking the size of Biggie, but, look at me, right?
“Anyway, Not Biggie’s got his iPhone and starts swiping pictures, and I see a pasty, fat, balding white dude … dressed as a clown. And … the fucker looks just like me. And, … he’s in a children’s hospital, buncha cancer kids and burn victims and shit. And these three guys are there in the pictures too, with scrubs on and with a bunch of smiling kids. Not Biggie then starts bawling, saying how much my act meant to those kids, and going on about this little girl who was hanging on by a thread and got better after I, or rather the clown, did his show. And he hugs me, right there in the store, in front of the shriveled old man dicks and everything, he’s just hugging me. And what am I gonna do? I can’t say that’s not me. I mean I should say that, but … I dunno, I’m kinda enjoying the love! I’m pretty sure none of my jokes ever put a smile on any kid’s face, and I’m standing there trying to figure out what the fuck I’m doing with my life, because here I am kinda pretending to be a clown that visits sick kids and, anyway, long story short, very, very white dude then says, “Yo, your coffee is on us, brotha.’ And then we all stood in the parking lot for twenty minutes shooting the shit and I never once corrected them and told them who I really am, and … the worst part is, when one of them asked if I’d come back, what could I say, um, no, you’ve got the wrong guy? So, I said yeah, I’ll come by. And I thought that would be the end of it, but they asked if I could do it next weekend, and … what was I gonna say? So I said yeah.”
The audience groaned.
“So, all I can think of is that because I was too chicken shit to tell these guys the truth, somewhere there was a room full of cancer kids and burn victims waiting on a clown that never showed. And whenever they run into the real clown, who is probably like the nicest guy in the world, they’re gonna kick his ass! And yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m going to hell.”
Henry opened the door to laughter and applause in time to see his own incredulous smile as he had waved at the crowd. A surprised look that said he couldn’t believe this was happening. “You’ve been great. Thanks so much,” he said from the TV. Henry waved to himself as the credits rolled.
Nadia sat on the end of the couch, leaning over her crystal ashtray with the silver filter held between her teeth. Gray smoke swirled up into her hair.
Frank hugged a bowl to his chest with a few kernels of popcorn rolling around in the bottom. He pointed a remote at the huge panel hanging on the wall, and Henry’s special was replaced with a Samsung logo. He looked up at Henry with a grin. “That was some funny shit, man.”
Even now, praise made him uncomfortable. Henry gave his standard answer, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Appreciate it.”
Nadia smiled at him through her smoke, and Henry sighed in relief.
I guess we’re good again.
“You know, I donated half the profits of that show to Burg City Mercy Children’s Hospital. To make up for the whole clown thing.”
Frank leaned forward, dropping the empty bowl on the coffee table. “No shit?”
“Yeah, and here’s the best part. I handed the check to Pastor Owen right in front of Burg Spires.”
The pride on Samantha’s face. Smiling at him through her tears. He wondered if that’s when the son of a bitch decided to kill him.
“Any word from anybody?”
Nadia pulled the butt from her silver filter and ground it out before answering. “Maria went out. She said she was in the mood to shop. Ramiel’s on the roof looking at the stars. No word from Boothe or Charlie.”
“What about Aela?”
“She’s asleep in the other bedroom.”
“This place has another bedroom?”
Nadia smiled. “It has as many as it needs. For a while, it needed two.”
“Yeah, well. I think I should apologize. For grabbing her like that.”
Nadia waved him away. “I think she understands. Besides, even though she was born in Solitude, she’s human. Let her rest, Henry.”
Henry nodded. “Then I should apologize to you.”
Frank rubbed popcorn butter on the legs of his pants already shiny from napkin service while he watched TV. “Why? What’d you do?”
Henry glared at Frank, but the demon just looked up with a crooked open-mouthed smile. Henry sighed. “I said some shit that
I really wish I could take back.”
“Who the fuck are you to care about me? You don’t fucking know me, lady. You can pretend to be on my side all you want, but just like everybody else, you walk around like you got a secret, and you know what? Keep it. Because I don’t give a fuck about you, either. The only thing I give a fuck about is my daughter!”
“No, Henry. The only person you give a fuck about is you.”
Nadia sat back and crossed her legs. He had forgotten how good she looked. Even Frank had a handsome nerd mystique that the ladies probably loved. Surrounded by people way better looking than him was how Henry had spent most of his life.
Now I gotta be ugly while I’m dead, too.
“You don’t need to apologize, Henry. I’ve heard the story. That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. It just means I understand why you did it.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Henry sighed with an absent nod. “So, I think I’ll do some looking around of my own?”
“You should take Frank with you.”
“Yeah,” Frank said. “You and me. Two guys doing guy stuff. Maybe get a beer or something.”
“Because he’s annoying the shit out of me.”
Henry burst out laughing, and Nadia turned to Frank. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“All right. As long as someone will be here if Aela wakes up.”
“Don’t worry, Henry.” She smiled with a knowing lift of her eyebrows. “She’ll be fine.”
Henry looked away from her smile and walked to the sliding window looking out over the city. Frank padded up next to him while he opened the window and inhaled the heavy air. That feeling of being home nearly knocked him off the window sill.
“So, how we getting down? A fire escape? You gotta car down there?”
Henry shot his hand out and grabbed a handful of hibiscus, pulling Frank against him with his shirt. “Not exactly.”