The Perdition Score (Sandman Slim 8)

“Poor baby. You need a drink. Why don’t we go to Bamboo House after we finish practice?”

“Actually, Brigitte is over there with a friend and I’m kind of climbing the walls. I might head over there now.”

“Okay. We won’t be too much longer. I’ll meet you there.”

“Great. You’re sounding good in there, by the way.”

“No, I don’t, but I appreciate the sweet lie.”

“Anytime, baby.”

“But I am getting better, don’t you think?”

“I do.”

“See you soon.”

“Sounds good.”

She closes the door and the noise starts up again. This time I really can hear her hitting the melody. It’s slow and creaky, but it’s there. It’s nice to see her so happy.

Kasabian puts on gloves to hide his metal mitts and we head out a couple of minutes later. I look around at the movie posters on the wall and decide to put on Robert Mitchum’s face from Out of the Past. Kasabian rolls his eyes when he sees the glamour, but, once more, he’s too smart to say anything.

THERE’S A DECENT, but not oppressive crowd in Bamboo House. Nobody says hello or bugs me on the way in, which is a nice change. I might have to wear faces more if it will keep the selfie-stick crowd at bay.

Les Baxter is on the jukebox playing “Oasis of Dakhla.” Brigitte is standing near it drinking martinis with a woman I’ve never seen before. She’s shorter than Brigitte, with blond hair and the kind of dark eyes that inspire duels. I ditch Robert Mitchum. Brigitte waves when she sees us and Kasabian and I go over.

“Where’s Chihiro?” she says when we get close enough to hear.

“A new friend is teaching her some tunes. She’ll probably be here soon.”

“Hello, Kasabian. How are you?”

“Great, now that I’m with actual people and not stuck in the store with Johnny Buzzkill here.”

Brigitte looks at me.

“Are you all right? Are you feeling ill?” she says.

I shoot Kasabian a look, but he’s looking at Brigitte.

“I’m fine. Who’s your friend?”

Brigitte loops her arm around the other woman’s.

“Stark, Kasabian, this is Marilyne. All the way here from the wilds of France.”

Marilyne smiles softly and offers her hand. Kasabian and I shake it. She gives him a slightly funny look afterward, but covers it well. His mechanical hands are hard to disguise, even when they’re wrapped in suede.

“Nice to meet you both,” she says with barely a hint of accent.

Kasabian has had a crush on Brigitte ever since she arrived from Prague, but from the way he’s looking at Marilyne, his affections might be defecting.

“How do you two lovely ladies know each other?” he says.

“Marilyne is friends with some of the producers of my new film,” says Brigitte.

“How interesting. Are you in the movie business too, Marilyne?”