Ballistic Kiss (Sandman Slim 11)

When he speaks again his voice sounds tired and worried.

“A situation has come up where we might need your help.”

“Hellions, monsters, or skateboarders? I’m good with a garden hose. I can get those kids off your lawn.”

“Ghosts.”

I smile a little.

“You’re telling me the Sub Rosa doesn’t have a party bus of necromancers and exorcists ready to go at all times?”

“Firstly, it’s an entire infestation of ghosts. And secondly, we’ve tried all the usual methods and nothing’s worked. That’s why we might need your help.”

“I kill things. I don’t deal with things that are already dead.”

“We both know that’s not true. But the important thing is that you know Hellion hex systems. That’s one thing we haven’t tried.”

Fucking perfect. The last thing I want is to be on Scooby-Doo patrol. But as long as I’m living here for free the Sub Rosa calls the shots.

“When do you need me?”

“The good news is that we might not. We’re bringing in a coven from San Francisco. They have more experience with the unruly dead.”

“Great. Have a latte and give them my best.”

“I’ll be sure to pass on your good wishes. We’re going to give this another couple of days. But if they can’t clean up the mess, I’ll have to give you a call.”

“As long as it isn’t tomorrow night.”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m having a movie night with the girls. We’re going to do each other’s nails.”

“What movies are you watching?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’m thinking about Con Air or Face/Off.”

“I’ve never seen those.”

I almost spill my coffee.

“You’ve never seen Con Air or Face/Off? How are you allowed to even live in L.A.?”

“Goodbye, Stark. Have fun at your party.”

“When your spooks are gone, go to Max Overdrive. Kasabian will set you up with some real movies.”

“You know there’s something called streaming, right?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

I hang up and sit there for a minute. Abbot’s a nice guy, but the idea of going back to work—and as a ghost janitor—is extremely unappealing. If he wanted me to punch some sewer monsters, fine. Set some kill-crazy vampires on fire, cool. I’d even pick up his dry cleaning. But hanging around with a bunch of incorporeal fuckups sounds downright depressing, and I don’t need more of that right now. Plus, has Abbot ever seen a movie in his life? How can I work for a complete illiterate? It’s undignified.

Talking to him wrecked my mood. There’s no way I’m going to Bamboo House now. I’d spend the whole time grousing and I’ve been doing too much of that lately. I don’t need to inflict it on Carlos or anybody else. Instead, I grab all the movies in the house and step through a shadow so that I come out in front of Max Overdrive. Maybe trading these in for some new discs will put me in a better mood. And if it doesn’t, at least I’ll only bother Kasabian.

I try to psych myself up so I’ll go into the shop all smiles. Not let anyone know what a delicate flower I’ve become. But Hollywood is Hollywood, and on a hot day on the right corner you can smell the shit a block away.