“How’s this going to work, Mike?”
“There’s only one thing I want. For as long as we last. Because I’m a depressing realist.”
She tensed against me a little. “And what’s that?”
“Other guys, I’m always going to have a problem with.”
“That could be a problem.”
“Yeah. And I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. But the only thing I really want?”
“Yeah?”
“No matter what you do? Come home with me at the end of the night.”
And then she kissed me.
Chapter 29
If they don’t give us the book they’re going to
“Still want to come?”
Okay, so maybe telling her that was a mistake. I’d arranged for a chauffeured car to take me to and from the Roanoke ranch outside town, and had suggested to Trix that maybe she wanted to stay at the hotel while I worked.
“Yes I do! I’m not letting you go into that on your own!”
“Are you serious?”
“Of
“I’m figuring they worked that out and that they know something we don’t. Maybe it’s in a vault or something. Anyway, I don’t think this counts as adventure.”
She grabbed me by the back of the hair as I tried to put my pants on.
“I’m coming.”
“Yes yes okay fuck ow okay yes.”
“Good.” She went off to find her boots, muttering.
Came back. “Mike. They wouldn’t
“The guy sat in that chair and injected monkey shit into his arm, Trix.”
“Yeah. Getting boots now.”
I counted off five seconds.
“He did
“Don’t be judgmental, Trix.”
Chapter 30
It was a long drive out under an unforgiving sun. Even with the A/C cranked up in the rear of the car, I was regretting putting on the jacket and tie.
Trix was in boots, a short skirt, and a vest-top, showing off both sleeves of tattoos. “You think I’m covering up for the fucking Roanokes? I’m going to take a dump in their oven.”
“Hell, I don’t care. I need to look professional, you can look any way you like.”
“I like you in suits. You should get a new one, though. That one’s a bit frayed.”
“Oh, that’s not wear and tear. That’s where the rat would eat at it.”
“The rat.”
“The super-rat in my office. One time I put tinfoil on the floor outside his rat hole and hooked it up to a car battery. When he walked out on it, he should’ve lit up like a murderer on Old Sparky. But he stood up on his hind legs like Tony Montana in
“Sometimes I wonder how close to hospitalization or suicide you really were before I met you.”
“Three…maybe four hours.”
The Roanoke ranch came into view. It gleamed under the sun. The whole complex was painted a brilliant bone white. As we pulled into the driveway, I noticed half of a cow’s skeleton poking out of the lawn, jutting the way you see them sticking out of desert sand in Westerns.
A little farther down, there was a human skeleton sticking out of the ground in the same way. With a buzzard perched on it.
As we drove past, I craned to get a better look. The skeleton had been painted white. It could well have been fake. The buzzard, however, was real, and had had its feet wired onto one of the ribs. It had long since given up on escape, and just sat there with its head hanging like a depressed child’s.
“You see what kind of people they are?” Trix said. “I’m going to flay this guy. You do your job, I’m not going to
