with a family from Houston. I agree with them that we’re damned lucky to walk away from an accident like that with just a few scratches. Luckier than the pickup that went off the overpass and crashed onto the street below. They drop us on Hollywood Boulevard near Allegra’s clinic, and when I try to give the dad some money he waves it off.
“I’m sure you’d do the same for someone stranded. Just pass the good fortune along.”
Candy and I look at each other and I know we’re thinking the same thing.
Who knew people not playing angles or hustling something still existed. I thought they’d died out with the triceratops. I feel funny now. A little dirty. Like maybe I contaminated their car with bad luck. I wonder if they would have given us a ride if they knew I was the Lord of the Underworld. What’s funny is I think they would have.
Nice people are fucking weird.
Carlos is sitting up in a plastic chair in the clinic reception area. His arm and shoulder are still bandaged and smell of aromatic oils and potions.
I sit down next to him.
“Hey, man. I’m really sorry to get you mixed up in my shit.”
He laughs, patting his pockets.
“When haven’t I been mixed up in your shit? I met you on the day you got back from Hell, remember?”
“I guess so.”
“Yes so. I knew something like this could happen. It’s called a calculated risk. And now it’s happened and I’m walking away. It’s like I got a measles shot. I’m immunized. Nothing bad will ever happen to me again.”
“I’m not sure it works like that.”
“Of course it does.”
He gives up patting his pockets.
“You have any cigarettes? I’m dying for one. No pun intended.”
“I thought you didn’t smoke.”
“Only after surgery.”
“Sorry, but I gave my last one to a guy who sold his soul to the Devil.”
He sits up in his chair.
“I guess there’s some things worse than getting shot.”
“Not many. Anyway, I hear the guy is such a fuckup he’s getting his soul back. Even the Devil doesn’t want it.”
“I must have missed that day at Catholic school. The nuns never told us that being a dumb-ass was a weapon against the Devil.”
“Now you know.”
He leans forward, propping his good elbow on his knees.
“Don’t apologize for any of this. Remember when you and your pretty squeeze killed all those zombies in the bar? Business doubled after that. With you back and ninjas going Wild West, I’m going to make a fortune.”
“As long as no one shoots the jukebox.”
“I’ll kill any cocksucker that touches my jukebox.”
“You’ve got someone to take you home?”
