Ballistic Kiss (Sandman Slim 11)

“Try these. Please. You need them.”

I put them in my pocket.

“I’m only doing this as a favor to you. So you feel like you’re doing your job.”

“Sure,” Allegra says. “I appreciate you thinking of my feelings.”

We both laugh a little at that bit of bullshit.

She gestures to the exam table.

“Sit down for a minute.”

I do and she shines a light in my eyes. Makes me say ah. Does that weird thing doctors do when they feel under your jaw. From a nearby drawer she takes a little gold compass-looking thing with six or eight hands and presses it to my forehead.

I say, “So, you do still use hoodoo.”

“Of course. Where and when it’s appropriate.”

“What does that thing say about me? Do I need more fiber? Maybe trephination? They say it lets the demons out.”

She takes it off me and stares at the twirling hands.

“It says you’re a mess, but basically healthy.”

“Do I still get a lollipop?”

She reaches into a fishbowl on the counter and tosses me a Tootsie Pop.

I unwrap it and stick it in my mouth.

“Blue. My favorite non-flavor.”

She leans back and shakes her head at me.

“I sometimes wonder what you were like when you were a kid. Were you this stubborn? I bet you were a handful.”

“Mom says I was the handsomest boy in the world.”

“I bet you were. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

I shrug.

“I was like any kid. I could just do tricks other kids couldn’t.”

“What’s the first bit of magic you can remember doing?”

“Are you my shrink now, too?”

Allegra says, “Nope. We’re just a couple of friends talking.”

I think for a minute.

“I don’t remember much that far back. I remember Mom being sad all the time. And drinking. I remember my father being gone. Small mercies.”

“No happy memories?”

“My father missing when he tried to shoot me.”