I do a little hoodoo in my head and the glamour fades away.
“Every dickless shit heel in downtown Dixie.”
When he sees my real face, Abbot drops back against the couch cushions.
“I should have known by the clothes. Charles wouldn’t be caught dead in those boots.”
“I’ve been thinking about upgrading my wardrobe. Do you have a tailor?”
“You couldn’t afford him.”
“Then give me a raise.”
He just sits there for a minute.
“You took a hell of chance coming here like that.”
“Relax. I walked right by your security guys. The riffraff on the streets aren’t going to recognize me.”
“The only reason you got on board is because the protective wards recognized you, even if the guards didn’t. If they hadn’t, you could have been hurt.”
“I’m already hurt. Another time more or less won’t make a difference.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” he says. Then, “I heard about the mess in Hollywood last night. I even saw bits and pieces of it on the news.”
“So, they did get video.”
“Everyone with a phone recorded you.”
“Goddammit. I didn’t think of phones.”
“How’s the arm?”
“You saw that too?”
“Footage of a burning man will get a bit of airplay.”
“Then I guess I don’t have to tell you that I lost Charlie Anpu.”
“I know.”
“Does Anpu know?”
Abbot shakes his head.
“We got lucky there. He had a fender bender on the way home, so that would have kept him occupied. And with a reputation like yours, no one is surprised about you having a street brawl with a Lurker.”
“Is that what people think? That it was just a Lurker?”
“Wasn’t it?”
I look at the handwoven rugs on Abbot’s floor. The flawless woodwork and exquisite golden fixtures around the room, and feel like a housefly on a hundred-dollar steak.
“Do you think I could have a drink? If I’m not being an asshole for asking . . .”
“Of course,” says Abbot. “And you’re not. Relax. I know things went off-kilter last night, but from what I saw on the news it wasn’t your fault.”
He goes to the liquor cabinet and pours us a couple of expensive whiskeys. Comes over and hands me one, then sits down again.