“What happens now?”
“What happens is you stay here. Go inside the Silly Putty and try to calm down the sky a little or just hang around the lounge. I’ll see what I can do about the little girl. Don’t leave until you hear from me.”
I start back down the stairs, stepping carefully around the dreamers’ nerves.
“Hey, Sandman,” says Patty from the top of the stairs. “Thanks for today. You didn’t have to do all that.”
“No problem. I’d have done it for a dog.”
She smiles and goes into the lounge.
I take a cab to Max Overdrive. Thank God for cabbies. People joke that when the world ends, all that’ll be left are the roaches. They forget about the cabbies. As long as the roaches have money to pay or something to trade, the cabbies will be there to drive them from their roach motels to their roach offices and out to the roach suburbs, slamming on the brakes, cursing out the window, and overcharging them all the way.
The freeway into the city is almost empty, so we make good time. I go into the store through the front door, careful to step around the hexes.
Kasabian must have heard me come in because he isn’t surprised to see me.
“Come to check if the Glory Stompers came back and finished me off?”
“Remember when you said I should have been unreasonable and ignored you the other night?”
“Yeah?” he says, looking more nervous than I’ve seen him since I cut off his head.
“You got your wish. Get your gear together. You’re coming with me.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere safe. Those guys who broke in here are trying to change the entire fabric of reality and they’re using hit squads and a crazy little ghost with a great big fucking knife. You want out of harm’s way, you come with me right now.”
“I didn’t know you cared.”
“Of course I care. You know where my money is.”
“It’s my money. Does this hovel have cable, because if I have to stay with you I’ll need a lot of distraction.”
“It’s nice as hovels go. There’s indoor toilets and everything.”
Kasabian doesn’t want to go with me but he doesn’t want to stay in the store on his own anymore. He slowly closes his laptop. He’s trying to figure out a way to get me to stay so he doesn’t have to leave, especially on a gimp leg. He drums his fingers on the desk and gives up.
“There’s a tracksuit on the floor next to the bed.”
He has to struggle into the suit because of his leg. I don’t offer to help because I’m not in the mood to get barked at. It takes him a few minutes and he’s sweating but he finally gets the clothes on.
“You look like you’re in the Russian Mob.”
“Yeah? Then carry my crap, Comrade. I’m a cripple.”
We take the same cab back to the Chateau. When I take Kasabian through the clock, he just stands there looking the place over. The celebrity-magazine furniture. The trays of food and booze. The thick robe Candy tossed over the arm of a chair. The epic bedroom with a closet full of clothes.
He limps back into the main room. Holds out his arms and drops them in exasperation.
Finally he says, “Fuck you.”
“Mi casa es su casa blah blah blah.”
“Fuck you.”
“There’s food over there.”