Succubi

pretty, sort of rustic-looking, and had thick straight brown hair to her shoulders. “I’m Maedeen,” she said.

Martin laughed. “You must be psychic. We were just wondering where we could get an ice cream cone.”

Maedeen opened a cooler and gave them each a vanilla scoop on sugar cones. “I make it myself,” she said.

“Thank you,” Ann said. “I’m—”

“Ann, and you must be Martin,” Maedeen told them. “And, no, I’m not psychic. Your mother told me you’d be in town.”

“Does Mr. Nale still work here?”

“No, he died several years ago. I run the store now.”

Martin looked the place over. “Quaint,” he remarked. “They sure don’t have stores like this in the city.”

“Everything in the shop is made by yours truly,” Maedeen informed him. “Ann’s mother said you’re a writer?”

“Yeah, or at least I try to be. I have four books out. Out, as in out of print.”

“It must be exciting, to be able to perpetuate yourself so creatively. I’ve always wanted to write but could never seem to get anything down.”

“Don’t let that stop you.” Martin laughed. “It hasn’t stopped me. But you’re right, it is exciting to actually have something you’ve written published and put out into the world.”

Ann felt faintly jealous of this short and rather spacey woman, but then Maedeen addressed Ann directly. “Melanie and my daughter, Wendlyn, seem to be hitting it off very well.”

This took Ann by surprise. “Oh, I didn’t even know—”

“They met yesterday, she and Rena—that’s Milly’s daughter.” Maedeen smiled. “I hope they all get to be good friends.”

«« — »»

“She seems nice,” Martin said when they drove back to the house.

“She seems weird,” Ann elaborated.

“Why do you say that?”

Ann finished her ice cream cone. “I don’t know. It’s just weird how she knew about us.”

“You’re right about that. It was the same way last night at the bar. I’d never met any of those guys before, but they all knew about me and you. It’s like your mother announced our coming to the whole town.”

Ann nodded. “And it’s strange that Melanie didn’t mention anything to me about meeting Maedeen’s and Milly’s daughters.”

“Well, at least it’s good that she’s found some kids her own age.”

“And I didn’t particularly care for the way she was looking at you.”

“Who? Maedeen?”

“Yeah, Maedeen.”

Martin let out a laugh. “It’s not easy being God’s gift to women, Ann. Women can’t resist me, which is understandable, considering my vast intellect, indisputable charm, and obvious good looks.”

“Martin, you’re so full of shit you need a toilet brush to clean your ears.”

“Hey, look.” Martin pointed. “Is that Melanie?”

“It better not be,” Ann said when she looked across. Three girls and a boy were going into a house. The boy wore jeans, combat boots, and a leather jacket with buttons on it. His black hair was very short on the back and sides but so long in front that some strands hung past his nose. And one of the girls looked like Melanie.

The four went into the house and closed the door.

“Jesus Christ,” Ann commented. “Is there no end to it?”

“Here we go—”

“Did you see that guy, Martin? I thought Sid Vicious was dead. Just once I’d like to see her hang out with someone normal.”

“Normal by your standards, you mean.”

“Don’t you start that shit again, Martin. I’m going to get her.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Martin told her.

“Well, pardon me. Need I remind you that she’s my daughter?”

“And need I remind you that she’s capable of choosing her friends herself—”

“That guy looks like a nut!”

“Why? Because he’s not wearing Brooks Brothers? Get with it, Ann. All her friends back in the city dress like that.”

“Yeah, and they’re all nuts too!”

“How do you know? You’ve never even made the effort to meet any of her friends. And did you stop to think that maybe the reason Melanie feels so alienated is because you alienate her?”

Ann sputtered. He’s starting to sound like my mother. Could she help if it she didn’t want her only child hanging around with a guy who looked like he just stepped off the drug train? At least the girls looked normal.

“Trust her, Ann,” Martin went on. “Just because the guy looks different doesn’t mean they’re going in there to smoke dope.”

«« — »»

Zack removed the joint from his jacket pocket. He passed it and a lighter to Wendlyn.

“So how long are you in town?” he asked Melanie.

“Just for the rest of the week, I think,” she said, but she felt so distracted she barely heard her own words. Zack was a dream. Cool blue eyes, great haircut, great body. Under the black leather jacket he wore a NIN T shirt which was tight enough to show off his washboard abdominals. Zack was the last kind of person she’d ever expect to find in a town like Lockwood.

“Rena and Wendlyn said you live at the church.”

“Yeah, I take care of the place. They give me a room in the basement. It’s not a bad deal.”

Wendlyn and Rena huddled together on the couch. They passed the joint back and forth a few times. Then Rena passed it to Melanie.

“You sure this stuff isn’t pot?”

“We told you, it’s leahroot,” Wendlyn said.

“Go ahead,” Rena said.

Melanie looked at the tiny joint. She remembered how it had affected her last night. What the hell, she thought.

One hit, and Melanie felt weightless, giddy. She lazily looked around. Rena’s house was cramped and old but it was neat. It felt lived in, more like a real home than Melanie’s antiseptic condo.

“I had a dream about you last night,” Rena said.

Melanie looked at her. I had a dream about you too, she was tempted to reply but didn’t dare.

Wendlyn, oddly, seemed to be grinning.

“We’ll let you two get better acquainted,” Rena feigned in a floozy accent. Then she and Wendlyn went toward the back of the house.

Melanie wondered why she didn’t feel nervous. Ordinarily, she would be, suddenly sitting here with a near perfect stranger. But there was something about Zack, though he hadn’t said much, that put her at ease.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

“Kind of all over,” Zack said. “I was on my own for a while, when I was younger. Your grandmother sort of took me in. I owe her a lot.”

She wanted to ask him something commonplace, like about school, but then it occurred to her that he probably hadn’t had much education. Some people were more fortunate than others.

His jacket sported several Goth buttons. One of them read “Killing Joke.”