The Traveling Vampire Show

“Girls don’t take showers.”

“Sure they do.”

Leering, Rusty said, “Nah. They just love to lounge in a tub full of sudsy hot water. They do it for hours. By candle light. Sliding a bar of perfumed soap over their bodies.”

“Right,” I said.

“Hey! Just thought of something! How would you like to be Slim’s bar of soap?”

“Get outa here,” I said.

“No, really. Think about it.”

“Shut up.”

“Or would you rather be Lee’s soap? Sliding all over her. Just think of all the places....”

“Knock it off, okay?”

“You’re blushing!”

I turned away from him, picked up the phone and dialed Slim’s number again. This time, I only let it ring twelve times before hanging up.

“Let’s go,” I said.

“Where to?”

“Slim’s house.”

“Want to catch her in the tub?”

“I want to make sure she’s all right.”

“She’s fine.”

“She should’ve been here by now. She’s not taking any bath, not with all those cuts on her back. Maybe a quick shower, but she would’ve been done with that a long time ago and it only takes five minutes to walk here. So where is she?”

“What about our sandwiches?”

“I’m not hungry,” I said. “And you ate a Ding-Dong in the woods.”

“That was hours ago.”

“We’ll get something later. Come on.”

“Shit,” Rusty muttered. He polished off his Pepsi, then scooted back his chair and stood up.

On our way to the front door, I said, “Slim did make it home, didn’t she? You stuck with her the whole way?”

“Almost. We split up at the comer.”

“At the corner?”

“The comer of her block.”

“Great,” I muttered, throwing open the screen door.

Rusty followed me onto the porch and down the stairs.

“So you don’t really know she made it home?”

“Her house was right there.”

“You should’ve walked her to the door.”

“Oh, sure.”

“And even if she made it into her house,” I said, “nobody was there to take care of her. Maybe she got inside and passed out, or something.”

“What was I supposed to do, go in with her? Then you’d be riding my ass for being alone in the house with her.”

I guess he was right about that.

“You could’ve at least made sure she was all right,” I muttered. “That’s all.”

Speaking slowly, in a clipped voice that sounded as if he might be running short of patience, Rusty said, “She told me she’d be fine. She said she didn’t want any help. She told me to go over to your place and she’d be along as soon as she got done bandaging herself up.”

“How was she supposed to put bandages on?” I asked. “The cuts are on her back.”

“Don’t ask me. I’m just telling you what she said.”

I said, “Damn it.” My throat felt tight and achy.

“Don’t worry, Dwight.” He sounded a little concerned, himself. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Chapter Fourteen

Even though Slim didn’t have a father and her mother worked as a waitress at Steerman’s Steak House, she