“I don’t want that responsibility.”
“Too bad.”
I head back to the wall I came through earlier.
“Allegra, I might need you to come with me later and play Kinski one more time, but just to look. Not cut anyone up.”
“Whatever. Eugène and I will plant your friend in the Garden for now.”
“Text me when she’s under. And don’t leave the apartment for anything. It’s going to get dangerous outside. I’ll talk to you later.”
When I’m back on the street I dial Carlos.
“Hola Hula. You’ve got the Bamboo House of Dolls. Talk to me.”
“Carlos, it’s Stark. You need to listen to me.”
“What’s up, man? A buddy just brought me fresh sesos straight from the butchers. Swing by. You gringos don’t know shit about food till you’ve had auténtico street-style brain tacos.”
“Shut up and listen. Something’s happened. Close the bar. I don’t know if things are going to completely melt down out here, but there’s a real good chance.”
“It’s the fuckers from the other night, isn’t it? Those dead motherfuckers.”
“Yeah. There’s a lot more of them and I don’t know exactly how many. Until I do, stay off the streets. When you close, if any of your friends want to go home, let them. But once they’ve gone, lock up, barricade the place, and don’t let them back in.”
“Ay Dios mío.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
I COME OUT of a shadow by the anime section in Max Overload. It startles two kids pawing through the cutout bin where the used and extra discs get dumped for a couple of bucks each. They look at me, more surprised than scared. I grab a couple of handfuls of movies and give them to each kid.
“Take ’em and go home. Stay there and don’t let anyone in. Things are going to get weird.”
I walk them to the door so none of the counter people tries to stop them.
“We’re closing early,” I tell the closest kid working the registers. He’s a pale pretty boy with a lopsided haircut that hangs over one eye. He’s wearing a T-shirt that says THE GOVERNMENT KILLED TUPAC AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT. I’ve never seen him before.
“Let these people take the damned movies. Just get them out of here. Then you and the rest of the crew take off. You’ll get paid for a full shift. If you’re smart you’ll go home. If you go somewhere make sure you know where all the exits are. Lock up on the way out.”
He just looks at me.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I own the place.”
He turns to the guy working the other register.
“Is he for real?”
The second kid glances at me.
“Yeah.”
“Cool.”
I head upstairs as guy two whispers to guy one. They don’t know that my hearing is better than theirs.
“I told you about him. He’s Mr. Kasabian’s boyfriend. Did you see all those scars? They never leave upstairs. No one knows what they do up there all day, but there’s always bloody, torn-up clothes in the trash.”