“He doesn’t know about your hobby?”
“Simon can be a sweet man, but ninety-nine percent of his IQ is in his cock. I’m his trophy fuck and he can’t conceive of me as anything else.”
“Too bad. He’s missing out.”
Brigitte looks around at the gore-filled alley.
“I’ve seen neater kills, but I’ve also seen worse.”
“I need to call someone about this. I can’t leave a bunch of corpses lying around Carlos’s back door. I know some people, the Golden Vigil. They have all kinds of resources. They can handle this kind of thing.”
“I have people, too. They know how to dispose of revenants. Besides, I don’t much like your Vigil.”
“What do you have against them?”
“They’re the government. They’re police. That’s enough.”
Can’t argue with that. I let her call her people.
I go back into the bar. Carlos is closing up, putting glasses in the washer, dumping ice in the sink, and wiping down the bar top.
“Brigitte is finishing up out back. The bodies will be gone soon.”
“I never thought I’d see anything in here scarier than those skinheads that used to come in, but you always manage to surprise me.”
“Don’t worry. We’re going to check this out and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Está chido. I’d appreciate that.”
“This is probably a bad time to ask, but can I still get a burrito to go?”
Carlos looks at me for a second.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
I go into the men’s room and check myself in the mirror. I don’t look too bad, but there’s more blood spatter than I’d hoped. I slip off my shirt and hang it on a hook on the back of one of the toilet stall doors. I turn on the spigot in one of the sinks and wait for hot water.
A minute later, Brigitte comes in, slapping her cell phone closed.
“My people are on their way.”
“Who are your people?”
“Friends.”
“Roma?”
“Some.”
She goes through the same routine I just did. Looks in the mirror. Doesn’t like what she sees and turns on the water in the other sink.
“Where did you hang your shirt?”
“There’s hooks on the toilet doors.”
She takes off her blouse and comes back to the sink in just her bra and skirt.
I keep my eyes to myself, scrubbing the last drops of dead guy off my arms and face. I should probably do something about my boots, too, but I’d feel kind of stupid shining my shoes next to a half-naked woman. I can wait until I get home.