skin and horns peers out at me. She’s a Ludere. A kind of Lurker. The whole tribe are compulsive gamblers. Probably the only reason she works here is so she can run a line on which patients are going to recover and which are going to die.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Everyone thinks I’m dead, so probably not.”
She reaches out through the open door and shoves a business card into my hand.
“Call and Dr. Allegra will see you when she can.”
She starts to close the door. I grab the edge.
“Is Candy inside?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Does that mean she’s in there?”
She points to the card.
“Call and make an appointment.”
“Why don’t I make one right now? My name is Stark and in thirty seconds I’m coming inside. You have ten seconds to write it in your book and twenty seconds to get out of the way before I kick the door in.”
She leans to one side so the light from the clinic lobby falls across my face.
“Are you him or are you the boring one?”
“Do I know you?”
“I used to hang out at the Bamboo House of Dolls. Till he came around.”
“Princess, did the boring one go around kicking in doors?”
“It sounds like you. Wait here.”
“Twenty seconds.”
Twenty seconds come and go. Too bad. I always liked this door with the gold letters flaking off. But never make a threat you’re not willing to go carry out. I step back a good kicking distance. The door doesn’t look like much, so there’s no need to get dramatic. Just bring up a leg to kick out the lock. I draw it up and for a second I’m standing on the street like a leather flamingo. The door swings open and Candy is standing there. She looks at me on one leg, in dirty leather and a road-rash coat. I look at her. The same ripped jeans and Chuck Taylors. She has on a T-shirt covered with Japanese writing. Looks like it’s for an all-girl band I never heard of. Then we’re both looking at each other. Then it occurs to me to put my leg down.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
She looks at me like I’m a ghost or trick. Saint James must have done a number on these people if no one trusts their eyes. A minute later a grin spreads across her face. She comes out and throws her arms around my shoulders. Jumps and wraps her legs around my waist. She stays that way for a minute before climbing down. And John Wayne roundhouse punches me in the face. I put up my arms to rope-a-dope her in case she decides to punch again. She does, throwing haymakers to my body every couple of words.
“You asshole. You stupid goddamn dumb motherfucker. I fucking hate you and how fucking stupid you are.”
There’s a second of quiet and then a painful, “Ow.”
She reaches inside my coat and pulls open my shirt.
