Cold Fusion

by Olivia Rigal

  “Who’s them?”

  “Mimi, you’re asking too many questions,” I tell her.

  “And you’re asking a big favor. If I decide to believe you, and if I’m going to do this for you, I want to know why,” she says. Her request sounds very reasonable.

  “They’re a group of white supremacist bastards who deal in everything illegal they can get their hands on,” I say, staying as vague as I can and praying it’ll be enough information. “They have a lot of political clout and way too many moles in the police force. That’s why this mission is so delicate.”

  Mimi pulls away from me ever so slightly, and I let her go. She turns around and looks in the mirror with the saddest eyes. “So you only work here because of the mission?”

  I nod. “My presence here is nothing more than a cover.”

  “I see.” The pain in her voice crushes me.

  I step back into her space. “Falling for you was not part of the mission.” I catch her waist and turn her around to face me again. “I really care for you and Toussaint. What we have is real, not some scheme to get you to do something for me.”

  She tilts her head, and I can’t tell whether she believes me or not. “What exactly do you need me to do?”

  “Get Ezachia Smith distracted enough to borrow his keys, give them to me, and I’ll take it from there.”

  “Ezachia Smith?” She pronounces his name as if she’s spitting out something vile.

  “You know him?”

  “Of course I do, he’s…” She doesn’t finish her sentence. She shudders and closes her eyes, but when she opens them again, I can see her resolve. “So you don’t really need a lap dance, just any distraction that would work?” When I nod, she adds, “Won’t you need to put the keys back?”

  “Yes, but that’s not as crucial,” I admit. “As long as I have the disk, it doesn’t matter if my cover is blown.”

  “Fine, I’ll do it.” She stands tall in my arms. “If I can help put that man away, I’ll do it.”

  I admire her courage. I’m about to go for her lips when her hands land flat on my chest, not pushing me away, but she’s keeping her distance. I don’t get a chance to find out whether I’ve lost her trust or not because the other girls walk in.

  “Get a room!” Sally playfully says. I’m starting to hate that expression.

  “Yeah, really,” Kitten adds more aggressively.

  I let her go and silently mouth, “Thank you.”

  I want to tell her more. I want to tell Mimi that I think I’m in love with her, but I’m such a coward that I don’t. Anyway, now isn’t the right time. Shit, it’s never the right time to do what I want to do with her. I walk out of the girls’ dressing room to give them privacy to change, which is supremely ironic since in a short while, they’ll strip in front of an audience.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  And the audience is large today. His majesty Ezachia Smith is there, surrounded by his adoring court. I salute him with two fingers to the temple and walk over to Slider, who’s standing by the bar.

  “Mimi will do it,” I tell him.

  “Didn’t have a chance to ask Sally yet,” he says. “She got in at the same time they did, and Zach had to tell me about his family reunion. Some kid’s getting engaged. Most of the local members of his adoring fan club are here, and they’re expecting more people, like distant cousins and their brothers. We can scratch the drug idea.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hate this situation. Just when I think it’s the pits, it gets worse. Yep, a regular cluster-fuck that keeps on building. Mike Mayfair walks in with another group. I scan their faces. Thank fuck, no one else who belongs to the same station is with them. Before I have a chance to decide if I want to hide, Mike spots me and frowns. I just smile and wave as if seeing each other here is the most natural encounter in the world.

  He walks over to the bar, looking as if he’s trying to hide his embarrassment at being caught in a place like this. “Hey, David. I haven’t seen you at the station for a while. Fancy meeting you here!”

  “No shame in loving to watch the girlies shake their booties.” I take him by the arm as if I want to speak to him discreetly. “I do overtime as a bouncer here a few nights a week. I can count on you to be discreet about that, right?”

  Faced with my best caught-with-my-hand-in-the-cookie-jar look, Mike can hardly hide his relief. “Sure, man. Times are hard, and a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do to make it work.”

  “I’m glad you understand,” I say, looking relieved, which I really am, since he appears to have bought my story. “Are you with the engagement celebration?”

  “Yeah, a second cousin of mine’s getting in bed with a well-connected guy so, you know, I go with the flow.” He shakes his head like one of those dolls people put on their dashboards.

  “That’s smart. You can never have too many connections these days.”

  We shake hands, and he walks away to sit with his party.

  I go back to leaning against the bar with Slider.

  He looks at me and says, “I thought you barely knew anyone in your station.”

  “Yeah, I don’t. I was at the academy with that guy.”

  “How did you cover up?” he ask.

  “Told him I was working overtime as a bouncer, and he promised to be discreet. I think he will—not out of the goodness of his heart but to have something to hold over me.”

  Slider tilts his head and watches Mike intently. “Oh, I see. He’s that type of buddy.”

  The show starts, and I hang by the door, looking outside. Mimi has a new routine to a Rolling Stones song, and watching her do her “Brown Sugar” number for a bunch of prejudiced assholes would make my skin crawl. When I glance back into the room, she’s crouching on stage in front of Zach and working on removing his belt.

  The man is so red, I think he’s about to have a heart attack. But no such luck—he stands, and I’m not sure whether he wants to push her away or grab her. I look away when he puts his hands on her, then it hits me. She’s going for his keys! Oh, my sweet and brave Mimi, what are you doing? Indeed, the keychain is attached to the belt she’s now wrapping around her hips as she exits from the stage.

  Fuck, I have to keep him busy to make sure he doesn’t go after his belt. I look around for Slider, and he’s nowhere to be seen. Did he pick that very moment to go talk to Sally? Shit, if Mimi has to return the belt before Slider has a chance to grab the disk, we’re screwed.

  While facing the outside, I tear a blotter into pieces and rush to the bar for two glasses of Zach’s poison of choice. Vic brings me the glasses. I drop the blotter pieces in one of them, but the crappy shit doesn’t dissolve. I ask for ice cubes, and Vic looks at me funny.

  “He takes it straight, no ice,” he says.

  “Well, I want some ice,” I snap, making my impatience clear.

  The barman shrugs, grumbling something about it being a waste to dilute such good stuff, but he drops one ice cube in the glass anyway. He turns to go to the other side of the bar. The blotter pieces are stuck to the cube, and I turn the ice around to hide them, hoping it stays that way.

  “With the compliments of the house for your participation in tonight’s show,” I say to Zach when I reach his table.

  He invites me to sit for a moment, and I do, putting the two glasses on the table.

  “I put on a good show, right?” He doesn’t wait for an answer because he’s so full of himself. “I know she’s sweet on me.” He licks his lips.

  I want to punch his horny smile away by crushing his teeth. Instead, I just say, “Sure looks like it.” My fake smile hurts.

  “Some of them are smart, and that one’s no dummy. She knows a good man when she sees one,” Zach gloats.

  At Zach’s insistence, I sit with them for a few minutes while he and his buddies discuss the comparative merits of the “regular” versus waxed pussy. I manage to keep my stupid smile stuck on and laugh at the proper moments.

  Zach says, “I thi
nk it’s time to go backstage get my belt back.”

  “No!” I say.

  “What do you mean, no?” Zach’s obviously not accustomed to someone contradicting him.

  “What I mean is that Suzy’s just about to get on stage. I can go get your belt while you enjoy the show.”

  Zach’s face relaxes, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. I’m not sure I convinced him I’m just another idiot sucking up to him, but my stupid grin and the two glasses I set on the table sure point in that direction.

  He stares at them then winks at me. “You’re right. We want Suzy mad but not that mad. That witch loves her whip!”

  “She sure does.” I wink back.

  “Let’s drink to the health of this wicked bitch,” he says and reaches over the drink I put in front of him to take the one with no ice. “To a good show.” He holds his glass out to click it against mine.

  Does he suspect something? Fuck, I have no choice but to take the drugged glass, toast, and drink. He finishes his glass in three big gulps and stares, daring me to do the same. Instead of the small sip I wanted to take, I force myself to take a real mouthful.

  “I’ll go get your belt,” I say, and I run away with the glass. Now I wish I had paid more attention in the academy’s drug-related classes. I have no clue how long this shit takes to kick in.

  I need to find Slider—he’ll know. Then I need to find Mimi and tell her that I fucking adore her, but if she ever pulls a stunt like that again, I’ll strangle her. I’ve aged ten years in the past five minutes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I find Slider outside by the entrance door. He’s got a cut right under his eye, and he’s holding a paper napkin on it to stop the bleeding.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “Sally.”

  “Oh, shit. I never thought that gal packed such a punch.”

  It’s cute how he almost looks proud when he nods. “Her big glass ring makes for a great knuckle ring.”

  I laugh. “Is the cavalry coming in soon?”

  “Yeah, they’re here already, hiding in the back. Why?”

  “I drank from the glass I had prepared for Zach, so I’m going to be tripping soon. I’m afraid I’ll need some muscle to keep an eye on me until I come down.”

  Slider looks startled, but he knows better than to ask how I ended up in such a mess. He just whistles, and a young guy comes running. He’s wearing a cut that indicates he’s a Knight’s prospect.

  “Go get Prince for me,” Slider says, and the kid runs away.

  “You need to go back in and check on Mimi. She took Zach’s keys when she was stripping, and she’s crazy enough to try to go get the disk herself. I need you to make sure she’s safe,” I say. “I’m counting on you to protect her.” I’m about to say, “As you would Sally,” but maybe Sally’s protection isn’t his priority right now.

  “Fine, I’ll do that,” he says. “But before that, I need to make sure you’re safe as well.”

  He turns around as a bike rolls in our direction. I recognize Dmitry. Prince is a good name for him—it matches his attitude.

  “What’s up?” he asks.

  “Take him away and lock him up for at least twelve hours,” Slider tells Dmitry, who raises an eyebrow. Slider shrugs. “A blotter in his glass. We don’t want him high as a kite on the highway.”

  Dmitry tilts his head and looks at me. I can read more questions in his eyes. Right, I’m stupid—that’s yesterday’s news.

  But being the prince that he is, Dmitry just says, “Got you,” and gestures for me to get on the saddle behind him which I do.

  I’m feeling just fine right now, maybe a little high on adrenaline, and I’m starting to wonder if it’s a good idea to run.

  “You make sure she’s safe, you hear?” I say to Slider as Dmitry takes me away.

  I silently curse myself. I should have spilled my glass or come up with something… As we ride away, I see a woman by the side door. Gosh, I hope it’s not Mimi wondering why I’m rushing away before we had a chance to talk.

  Dmitry and I ride to the Knights’ compound and stop in front of a run-down building. The faded letters on the facade inform me that this used to be a slaughterhouse. Inside, the factory-sized room looks bigger than I thought it would be from the outside. I look around and notice that the floor is slanted and there’s a hole in the center of the room.

  It would make a perfect set for a horror movie.

  “I like this room,” Dmitry says seriously.

  “I’m sure you do,” I answer with the same tone. “The hole in the middle of the floor makes a great conversation starter.”

  “Yeah, it’s the kind of room that leads people to spill their guts lest someone do it for them.” His smiles at his joke, and his smile is blood-chilling.

  We sit down, and I think I doze off for a few minutes. When I open my eyes again, it’s still night, but I feel refreshed.

  “So you said it would be fifteen minutes before the drug kicks in, but I’m sure I’m fine, and we’ve been here a while, no?”

  “Three hours and thirty-five minutes.”

  “So maybe the blotter stuck to the ice cube and didn’t get into the drink.” I feel perfectly normal—better than usual actually. I have this perfect sense of clarity that allows me to notice a direct relationship between Dmitry’s smirk and my statement. “You think I’m high?”

  “As a kite,” he says.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because we’ve been repeating this conversation over and over,” he grumbles.

  “You mean I’m caught in a loop?”

  “Yeah, you make me think about my grandfather.”

  “The one who’s lost his marbles?”

  “See, you remember some of it. I told you all about him the last time you asked if I thought you were high.”

  “Okay, then I guess I’m high. It’s strange ’cause I don’t feel high.”

  “Right, and now you’re wondering if the blotter somehow found a way to crawl inside the ice cube, allowing you to—”

  “That’s crazy, man, you’re a mind reader. How did you know?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Let’s try talking about something else.”

  “Sure, what do you want to talk about?”

  “Pussy. I love to talk about pussy. I have a question for you—how is it doing a black girl?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Simple curiosity,” he says. “I’ve never had the opportunity to taste anything other than white or Mongolian pussy.”

  “Why do you think I know what black chicks taste like?”

  “You’re not doing Starla?”

  “Starla’s dead,” I say. The man has memory issues. He was at Josette’s funeral.

  “Yeah, yeah, don’t get technical on me. Starla number one’s gone, but I’m taking about Starla number two. I dig the second one better. She has more meat to her, and I don’t care for bony chicks.”

  “I’m with you one hundred percent,” I admit.

  “So you’re not doing that one? How come? It’s clear you want get in her pants.”

  “I sure do, but Slider says we’re not allowed to mess with the talent.” And I don’t kiss and tell. But there may not be anything left to tell after I messed up tonight.

  He snickers. “As if he’s not doing Sally.”

  “Funny thing is, I don’t think he is,” I say. “And I think he’s a saint, because she’s ready to give it away anytime. I think if he said, ‘Let’s do it standing up behind the bar,’ she would go for it.”

  “He’s an idiot for turning her away. Sally’s hot,” Dmitry says. “One should never turn down a good pussy.”

  “Right again, my prince.” I slouch down and think. “You know, most scientists think that cold fusion is a myth.”

  Dmitry looks at me as if I’ve gone insane.

  “I guess you don’t know what cold fusion is,” I say. “Well, it’s a nuclear reaction that occurs at room temperature.” Dmi
try frowns, and I’m unable to count the number of folds on his forehead. I don’t let that stop me. “Well, those who don’t believe it exists are wrong, because I experienced it the first day I looked at Mimi. Yep, that day, I experienced a nuclear reaction at room temperature.”

  Dmitry shakes his head and says, “Cold fusion, hey?”

  I don’t think he gets it, but maybe I’m not as clear as I think I am.

  “If I’m really high, we’re not going back tonight, and if we’re not going back, I think I’m gonna get me some shut-eye.”

  “You do that,” he says and pulls a blanket out of nowhere.

  He throws it at me, and I lay it on the floor. The tiles are really cold.

  Dmitry wakes me up five minutes later. Well, it feels like five minutes later, but it’s not. Daylight streams though the planks boarding up the window.

  “It’s way past noon,” he tells me. “Slider said I was to drop you off at the club so you could ride your bike home.”

  I get vertical, feeling like an old man. Every time I move my head, wedges of wood slide in and out my temple, and shards of glass pop out of my eyes. The ride back to the Bush Fire is nothing less than torture. It’s so bad that when I finally get off the bike, I puke all over my shoes.

  “You’re gonna be all right?” Dmitry asks, tossing my keys to me.

  “Absolutely, my prince,” I say, wishing him away. I’d rather die alone than under his insolent gaze.

  I take a few deep breaths after he leaves and decide to go see Mimi. She must be really mad at me. I need to explain why I left last night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The ride to Mimi’s house isn’t as bad as I thought it would be, though I’ve never been so aware of the potholes. My head clears a little, and I stop on the way to get some water. I need to flush this crap out of my system.

  All the benefits from the ride vanish when I reach Mimi’s front door. It’s been kicked open, and both rooms have been methodically destroyed. The mattress has been ripped apart and the furniture turned into chopped wood. The closet is empty except from some wire hangers and a few plastic bags. Only the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink show that the place was lived in yesterday.