His eyes narrow at me.
“See. That’s exactly the kind of thing I expect from you. No respect whatsoever. After all the research and information I’ve found for you.”
“That’s not how I meant it. I just never pictured you as the high-tech type.”
“I have to be. All my magic goes into keeping this goddamn skateboard upright. I don’t have extra for anything else, so I have to use machines.”
“That’s actually a real smart way to deal with things. You’re a credit to your race, Alfredo Garcia.”
“Hey, don’t call me that when you’re off getting laid and I’m in here keeping LAPD off your back,” he says, pissed and with a right to be.
“You’re right, man. I owe you.”
“You’re goddamn right you do.” He leans toward me and speaks in a whisper like maybe the CIA is listening. “Is she as cute naked as she is with clothes on?”
“Don’t even start.”
“Come on. I saved you both. And you just said you owe me. Get me a Polaroid.”
I crack a smile at that.
“You know, she just might think that’s funny enough to do. She’s not shy.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m not going to ask her for you. You want it so bad, you do your own begging. And I don’t want to see you Photoshopping her head onto porn stars.”
“What’s her e-mail address?”
“I don’t even know if she has one.”
“You hick. I’ll find it myself.”
I take the Smith & Wesson out of my coat and reload it with special rounds I made with cut-down .410 shotgun shells. I might not need them, but fortune favors the prepared mind that thought to bring a really big gun.
I say, “Don’t crash out on me. I’m looking for information right now and that’ll probably lead to more questions. I might quiz you now, but I need to make a call.”
“You know where to find me.”
IF YOU’VE EVER wondered if your life has run off the rails, here’s a handy quiz.
Is the only person left in the universe you can go to for help someone even God doesn’t want to talk about?
Is the only alliance left to you with a gang that eats and shits chaos?
Are you about to drunk-dial the only guy in Creation who’s probably more despised than you?
If you answered yes to any of these, then you should seek psychiatric help. If you answered yes to all of them, you’re me.
I WALK OUT the front of the hotel and a block down Hollywood Boulevard.
On the way I get out my phone and thumb in a number I’ve had for a while but never dialed before. I let it ring once and hang up without waiting for an answer.
“It’s about time we heard from you.”
I spin around, toward a vinegar stink. When they aren’t trying to pass as regular people, Kissi have a very particular smell.
“Goddamn you’re fast.”