I hold up a hand.
“Okay. Stop right there. I saw too much of that kind of thing Downtown. You really think that’s happening here?”
“I’ve seen the evidence. I know you’re strong and recover quickly, but you need to be on guard. This virus is new and if it can affect me, it might be able to affect you too.”
“You don’t think this is some kind of weapon, do you? I remember an old story where the army or someone sat off-shore and blew cold germs into San Francisco to see what would happen.”
“We’ve looked into it and it seems highly unlikely that it’s a weapon.”
The next thing I say, I say quietly.
“I haven’t told many people about this, but a few months ago I killed an angel who had a grudge against me. I’ve been wondering if this might be some kind of plague she called down before she died.”
Abbot gives me a look.
“Are you saying that you think that what’s happening might be partially your fault?”
I put up both hands at that.
“No. I just mean—”
He looks away wearily, then turns back to me.
“You know angels better than I do.”
“That’s the thing,” I say. “I keep trying to figure out what’s going on, but I don’t really think this is her. It doesn’t feel right. The epidemic is bad, but it’s not like she called down the apocalypse, and that’s what I think she meant.”
Abbot relaxes, his body going slack. Maybe at relief because of what I said or maybe his energy is about to run out.
“I’m glad to hear you say that. Being connected to the epidemic, well, I think the guilt would be overwhelming.”
“Yeah. It would.” I say it like I’m all confidence, but I’m not. “One more thing: Have you or your people heard anyone say something like ‘Rum-tiddley-um-tum-tay’?”
He frowns.
“No. What is that?”
“Both times I’ve run into King Bullet’s people they kind of sang it, almost like a nursery rhyme.”
He makes another note on the piece of paper.
“I’ll look into it,” he says. Then his body goes limp. He puts a hand to his forehead. “I’m afraid that’s all I can give you right now. I’m very tired. Let’s call it a day, all right?”
I get up and drag the chair back to where it was. I don’t need Matthew giving me grief right now. I am seriously not in the mood for more bullshit.
“Sure. Take care of yourself,” I say.
Abbot raises a listless hand to me.
“Thank you. Stay safe. And wear your mask.”
I turn as I’m heading for the door.
“What do you think I’m wearing now?”
Abbot wipes sweat from his forehead with his hand.
“I know you well enough to know that you’ll take it off at the first opportunity. The hospitals are full, Stark. Don’t go wasting a bed because you don’t want to be a grown-up.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
“And you’ll look into King Bullet for me?”
“That’s the plan. But I’ve got my own people to look after too. If I have to choose, I’m choosing them.”
Matthew walks me outside. I offer him a Malediction, but he waves it off.
“Things are bad enough without getting cancer too,” he says.
“It’s never too late to develop bad habits.”
He just stands there like a brick wall. Finally, he says, “The Augur looks bad, huh?”
“Worse than I’ve ever seen him.”
“Me too.”
“It looks like he’s well taken care of.”
“He is, but listen. I don’t like you. You’re a pain in the ass, even when you think you’re playing the good guy.”
I check his eyes and listen to his heart. He doesn’t seem like he wants to start a fight.
I say, “And your point is?”
“The Augur likes you,” he says. “He was happy you called. So call more. He lost some good friends to the virus. He needs to be around people he likes.”
I listen for microtremors in his voice. He’s telling the truth.
“I’ll keep in touch.”
“Good,” says Matthew. “Now get the hell out of here. People see your ugly ass hanging around, it brings down property values.”
I light a Malediction and walk away, making sure to get some smoke in his face first.
I’m sorry Abbot doesn’t think the virus is some spook lab weapon. That means the odds are it’s some natural fuckup in a cold germ that’s let it run wild. Any alternate explanations are too much. Mostly, I can’t begin to think about being somehow connected to the epidemic. Not with wrecking the city and killing all these people. Even I can’t fuck up that badly.
Can I?
Before going back to Janet’s place I stop by the apartment to check on Fuck Hollywood. She’s curled up on the sofa watching a Godzilla marathon on TV while eating yet more pizza. She’s wearing what I’m pretty sure is my Skull Valley Sheep Kill hoodie, but I don’t say anything. In all, she looks a lot better than she did last night at Bamboo House.
I say, “How are you feeling? You feel up to going into work today?”
“There is no work. The place is closed today while Carlos and Ray patch the bullet holes in the walls.”
“They need help?”
Fuck Hollywood offers me a piece of pizza, but I shake my head. She says, “Carlos said for us to stay home and be safe.” Then she turns back to the TV.
She’s held it together pretty well, but it feels like she’s made of cracked glass. One false move and she’ll fall apart.
“I’m going to find King Bullet and take him out,” I say.
She nods.
“Good. Thank you. But please be careful.”
That last she says with a lot of tension in her voice.
“I always am.”
“Yeah right,” she says, taking a long pull straight from a two-liter bottle of Coke.
“I’m heading to Janet’s for a while. Call me if you need anything. Promise?”
She burps and it sounds like the roar of a tiny T. rex.
“I promise.”
“And don’t get pizza on my hoodie.”
Her head falls back against the sofa.
“You are so old, Grandma. There are washing machines now. We don’t have to beat things on a rock down by the creek.”
I go out through a shadow and come out at Janet’s place. It smells good inside.
They say, “I got Indian food delivered.”
“I thought you weren’t going to let anyone in.”
“I told them to send Jimmy. I know him.”
“That’s good, but wait until I’m here next time. Okay?”
They make a face and say, “I know you’re right, but I wanted to have something nice for when you got back.”
“Thank you,” I say and we kiss.
They put out jasmine rice and three containers of food. It looks and smells great. I scoop a bit from the first container onto my rice. It’s just some kind of cheese sauce and spinach.
“Saag paneer,” they say.
“It’s just spinach?”
“And spicy sauce.”
“What’s the other one?”
“Aloo gobi. Potatoes and cauliflower in a turmeric curry.”
The third dish looks more promising. Little lumps of what I hope is chicken on skewers.
They say, “The other one is paneer tikka. Cheese cubes grilled like tandoori chicken.”
“Why couldn’t we just have tandoori chicken?”
“This is healthier.”
“Chickens are healthy, otherwise they wouldn’t give you chicken soup when you have a cold.”
“That’s mostly chicken broth.”
I say, “Lamb is healthy. And they’re cute.”
Janet smiles a little.
“Going without meat for one meal won’t kill you.”
I look over the food
.
“This might. Spinach and cauliflower aren’t vegetables. They’re punishment. They’re the solitary confinement of food.”
Janet sighs.
“Fine. Then just have the paneer tikka.”
I put a couple of skewers on my plate and eat it with the rice. It’s actually not as bad as I thought it might be, but I can tell that Janet is annoyed with me.
They pause between bites, wipe their lips on a paper napkin, and say, “Someone tried to get in while you were gone. They said they needed help. They said they were a neighbor. I didn’t let them in the building.”
Janet’s voice is thin and tense, and their heart rate is up.
“You did the right thing,” I say.
They set down the napkin.
“But what if they really needed help and I left them out there?”
“If it happens again offer to call 911 for them.”
“I did that.”
“What did they say?”
“Nothing. I heard them buzzing other apartments.”
“That’s it then. It was a hustle. They were just trying to get into the building.”
They push their food away and say, “I’m so tired of being scared. I don’t even want to take out the trash.”
I look into the kitchen and there are two bulging plastic garbage bags.
“I’ll do it,” I say. Any excuse to get away from cauliflower and cheese lumps.
I grab the bags and while I’m heading for the door Janet says, “Please be careful. I don’t know what I would do if you got hurt taking out trash I’m too afraid to touch.”
Everyone keeps telling me to be careful when all I want to do is protect them.
It’s a little exhausting.
“It’ll be fine. I’m armed to the teeth.”
“I know. But still.”
“You sit tight and have more gloob.”
“Aloo gobi.”
“Right.”
I go downstairs and add Janet’s trash to the mounds of other bags lining the curb. Next door, a guy in a trench coat and mask that covers most of his face presses a buzzer. He’s big and I can’t get a look at his face to see if it’s scarred. I reach under my coat and get a grip on the na’at. I’m not letting down my guard again with anybody. But a minute later the door opens and a blond woman comes out. She’s smiling. The big guy takes off his mask and they kiss. His face is fine. The blonde looks over and notices me staring. Then the guy looks over as the blonde takes his hands and pulls him inside.
Great. Now I’m the street creep.
After last night, I can’t help being on guard, but looking for killers behind every mask is no way to think. As easy as it would make things, not everyone is the enemy. I’ve got to keep my head on straight. Take care of Janet, Candy, and the rest of my friends. They’re all that matter.
When I get back upstairs, Janet is already clearing away the dishes and I’m trying to figure a way to sneak out for a burger later. We settle down and I show them the special versions of The Third Man and Death Wish Kasabian gave me. When they’re over and I turn the lights on, Janet is frowning in thought.
“I don’t get it,” they say.
“Don’t get what?”
“I just don’t get the attraction of these weird movies you show me. I mean, if they were supposed to happen, they would have happened, right? And they’d be better than the versions of the movies we already have.”
“Yeah, but isn’t it interesting to see into other worlds and get a look at things that might have happened and maybe even should have happened?”
“I guess,” they say.
I’ll admit it. My stomach is knotted up and not from just the food. How can you not like seeing something great like David Cronenberg’s Frankenstein or Alejandro Jodorowsky’s Dune? Candy always loved the otherworldly movies—
And I stop myself right there. What am I doing comparing the two of them? That’s not fair to anyone. And Candy is gone. I need to stop this shit. Janet is the one I have to concentrate on and if I have to watch my funny little movies alone back at my place with Fuck Hollywood, I can do that. It’s not such a big sacrifice. I need to get a fucking grip. Take the movies back and not go to Max Overdrive for a while. Get Candy and the place out of my head for a while.
“Are you okay?” says Janet. “You looked like you were a million miles away.”
“Nope. I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry I don’t like the movies. I just don’t see the attraction.”
“That’s fine. We can look at other things. Don’t worry.”
“Good. Because I like watching movies with you.”
“Me too,” I say, but my stomach is still in knots. Then, to change the subject, I add, “I think I’m going to go after the boss of the guy who shot me. King Bullet.”
Janet looks at me, their face tense with concern.
“Please don’t. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
“I was sloppy last time. That won’t happen again.”
“I know, but still, please don’t.”
I put an arm around them.
“I might not have a choice. Thomas Abbot pays my salary and he wants me to. And I want to know more about the King. For starters, what the hell does he want?”
Janet just sits there, arms crossed, body tense.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m not running out tonight. If I do the job, I’ll do some prep work first. Try to get more information about him.” It’s only half a lie. Abbot gave me enough to get started. I figure if I start kicking at this anthill, something interesting is bound to come out. But not tonight.
They take a breath and let it out again.
“I know this is the kind of thing you do—dealing with people like King Bullet or whoever—I just wish it wasn’t.”
For all my promises, tonight isn’t going great for us. First the food. Then the movies. And now this, because they’re basically asking me not to do something fundamental to my life. I don’t let myself think of Candy. No more comparisons. Just stay here in the moment with Janet and say something, anything, to make them feel better.
“It’s going to be all right.”
Well, that was nothing. I’ll need to try harder than that.
“How is your work going?”
That wasn’t much better, but I’ll take it right now.
But the distraction seems to help. Janet relaxes a little and says, “It’s okay. I’m pretty much ready for the show.”
“It’s in an hour, right?”
“That’s right.”
“What can I do to help?”
They look a little sad again.
“Just kiss me like you mean it.”
So I do. I try to anyway. I don’t think I’ve ever been so conscious of a kiss before. How do you kiss someone trying to convince them that the kiss is real? So, I kiss her a little harder and longer and hope for the best.
When we part, I must have done something right because they’re almost smiling. They touch my hair and run their hand down along the scarred line of my jaw. Then one more peck on the lips.
“Okay,” they say. “I need to start getting ready.”
“I’ll be over here staying out of your way.”
They fire up their laptop, check their keyboards and the mixing deck. Run the beginning of the movie back and forth a few times to make sure that the music and images sync up properly. Then they get dressed. A long-sleeve black men’s dress shirt and a brocade corset over tuxedo pants. They’re a total knockout.
About a half hour before the concert, faces begin popping into the Zoom app on the large monitor behind their bank of instruments, giving the audience a good look at both Janet and the film.
Finally, it’s showtime. I dim the lights in the apartment. I don’t know how many people are in the audience, but the Zoom screen is completely full. Janet does a short introduction and launches into L’Age d’Or.
Janet is riveting for the movie’s sixty-minute running
time. I’ve seen the movie before, so I just watch them. They’re intense, sexy, and perfect in their choices for music, sometimes matching the scenes and sometimes playing against them, creating a weird emotional contrast. I’ve never seen Janet do a whole solo concert before. It’s something they were born to do.
When the last frames of the movie fade away, the sound of hoots and tinny applause from several dozen people comes from the speaker on the big monitor. Janet takes their bows and waves happily to the audience as, one by one, the listeners blip off the screen. It takes a few minutes for everyone to exit the app and Janet smiles and waves to people the whole time. They’re happier than I’ve ever seen them.
Finally there’s only one woman left on the Zoom screen. It looks like she’s crying quietly.
She says, “Thank you so much. You don’t know how much that meant to me.”
“I’m really glad you enjoyed it,” says Janet.
“My name is Maggie and L’Age D’or is my favorite film.”
“It’s one of my favorites too.”
“I’m in L.A. You are too, I think?”
“Yes, I am.”
Maggie smiles and wipes her eyes.
“Then you’ll understand me when I say that I didn’t want to leave without seeing the movie one more time.”
“Oh? Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. But somewhere better than this.”
“I don’t understand,” says Janet.
“Thank you again.”
Then Maggie puts a Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum to her head and blows her brains out.
The Zoom screen stays open, a blank portal to an empty room. I pull Janet away and turn off the monitor. Their hand is clamped over their open mouth. They don’t make a sound when I put my arms around them, but I can tell they’re on complete overload, body rigid and screaming and screaming on the inside. I lead them into the bedroom and get the corset off before laying them out on the bed. Soon the stiffness leaves Janet’s body and they start to cry. I bring them tea with bourbon in it and they choke it down. It relaxes them a little, but the crying never completely stops. I sit next to Janet in bed, just holding them. The crying seems to go on all night.
Around four a.m. I’m startled awake by the sound of someone struggling for air. Janet is only half-conscious as her body convulses with deep, racking coughs. When they’re finally fully awake they look at me and take my hand.
King Bullet Page 5