I could have said that better.)
Colin helped me. Sort of. Not. He chimed in, 'Tell your boss that the world could be destroyed if he dicks around with us.'
Tall, Dark, Scarred, and Handsome gave him a thoughtful look. 'So... you can, um, destroy the world, issat right? Cute trick.'
Colin grinned like an idiot. 'Yeah, but we can only do it once.'
He said, 'Listen, kids. You know what my job here is?'
Vanity looked at his huge harpoon. She said gaily, 'Let me guess. You seek the White Whale?'
She was doing that Vanity-thing she does with her eyelashes and bestowing the sweetest smile on him, so even his grim face softened, and he smiled back. 'No, miss. I'm Mr. Nice Guy. I am here to see that the people who are invited into the club here have a nice time. Now you are blocking the line, and all of Mr. Archer's guests behind you might not have a nice time because of it. So I gotta make it right, okay?'
I thought this meant he was going to burn us to cinders with laser beams shooting from his eyes or something, but no. Instead, he led us a few steps to one side, and the Merry Man proceeded with the glittering people in line behind us. We were standing beside the doors, and long thin leaves from potted plants were poking me in the back.
'Now, your names are not on the list, are they?' said the huge man.
Quentin said quietly, 'May we have your name, sir? Mr. Archer will be displeased if we are hindered, I assure you.'
'I am Terro- ah, Terrance. Terrance, um, Miles. And Mr. Archer is my brother.'
Quentin said, 'If he's your brother, why isn't your last name-?'
'Stage name.'
I said, 'Listen. This is important. Do you know the world is run by pagan gods?'
'I know L.A. is, that's for sure. And one of the gods of L.A. says that no one gets in the Bull's-Eye Club unless they're properly dressed. We have a dress code.'
I watched a couple go by. The man had glasses shaped like the number 2008, with an eye peering through each zero. His date was wearing see-through plastic pants.
'What about them?'
Tall and Dark said, 'They're on the list. Dress code does not apply to Mr. Archer's special guests.'
Victor said, 'Leader, why don't we simply leave a cell phone number? Archer can call us, once he gets Boggin's message.'
Before I could answer, Tall and Dark said, 'Listen, you seem like nice kids. You go away and come back dressed properly, you can come in.'
I said, 'Then we can see Mr. Archer?'
A shrug. 'Maybe he'll see you, maybe not He's not here right now, but he might be back tonight.'
Vanity said to me, 'Amelia, my nice outfits are on the boat. And where are the boys going to get tuxedoes at this hour? We don't have that much money left, after all.'
Tall and Dark said, 'Kids, if you are not the kind of folk who can afford expensive suits with your pocket money, you're not getting into this club.'
Vanity's face was flushed with anger. She stamped her foot and demanded, 'What? Is there a tailor open at this hour?'
Her rosy-red features and low-cut blouse, well, they attracted his attention, and his craggy face softened once again with a smile. 'Look, like I said, I'm Mr. Nice Guy. I stop fights, see? We like to have good-looking girls in the club. Here.'
He took a card out of his pocket, leaned his harpoon against the wall, took out a ballpoint pen, and scribbled on the back. He proffered the card to Vanity. 'Go to this address. Tuxedo shop, dresses, that sort of thing. Upscale, very nice. They keep late hours. Show the manager my card, and he'll fix you up, give you ten percent off. He owes me a favor. And meanwhile, you there, Little Miss Blond Girl.' He offered me the pen and a blank card. 'Write a message. Any crazy thing you like, gods blowing up the world, whatever. I'll put it on Mr. Archer's desk. I can't guarantee he'll read it, I can't guarantee he'll believe it, but write what you like. Don't bother putting down your phone number. He never makes calls. Hates phones. Likes to talk to people face-to-face, you know?'
I knelt down to use the pavement for a desk. I forget what I wrote: something about how Boggin sent us, we were not from Mavors or Mulciber, but we have urgent business to discuss. I was kind of coy about saying too much, but I wanted to drop names so he'd know we were not humeys.
Wolves, not cattle.
Then the huge guy politely escorted us to the curb, smiled, ignored whatever else we said, and stomped back to the club, his ring mail glittering and chiming at every footstep.
