The Mystic Arts of Erasing All Signs of Death

And she did. And I felt tired. So I went to sleep.

TO KEEP HIM FROM CRUSHING MY SPINE

– Motherfucker!

I opened my eyes and looked up at the extremely pissed off giant standing over me holding one edge of the bed off the ground and threatening to stomp on my head.

– Motherfucker, are you high?

I shook my head, looked around the sun-filled office.

– No. What? No. I don't even do drugs.

He hefted the bed.

– Get the hell out of there before I drop this thing.

I scrambled out and stood in my T and underwear, jeans clutched in my hands.

– Urn.

Po Sin dropped the bed.

– Jesus, Web, what the hell?

I slid one leg into my jeans.

– No, I'm fine, I was just sleeping. I sleep a lot.

He shook his head.

– You sleep a lot? You sleep like the fucking dead, is what you do. I was yelling, running around yelling your name for five minutes. Saw you under the bed, I freaked out. Oh, shit, Web's fucked up. Almost had a heart attack. And I don't mean that figuratively.

He squinted at me.

– You sure you're not high?

I buttoned my fly and looked at him.

– Man, I smoked grass once when I was eleven and got so paranoid I thought the air was trying to kill me. Only time I ever got high. I hate drugs. I never do drugs.

He licked his lips.

– OK. Fine. Then help me with something here.

He walked to the outer door and swung it open and pointed at the empty parking spot out back.

– Help me and tell me where the fuck my van is.

I took a step toward the door.

– I.I.I.

He nodded.

– Yeah, and when you figure out the answer to that one, you can tell me this.

He unballed one huge fist and showed me the pair of blue panties in his palm.

– Who the fuck do these belong to and why are they in my office?

The thing about getting beat up twice, spending big chunks of time cleaning up other people's blood, seeing your dad for the first time in two years, getting in a fight with your best friend, and having sex with someone you think you might really like a lot and then totally going psycho on her, all in a twenty-four-hour period, is that it's likely to affect your judgment. And if your judgment is pretty much for shit to start with, that may result in some spectacularly lame lies.

I'm not saying it's cool or anything.

I'm just saying that when I proceeded to tell Po Sin exactly what had happened that night, the fact that I left out the part where I drove to Carson to clean a bloody motel room and then brought one of his clients back to his office and had sex with her, just didn't seem relevant. I mean, nothing happened to the office while I was away, man. So why bother him with the information that I'd, you know, gone and used his equipment to sterilize a crime scene? And the van was clearly stolen while I was in the office asleep. That would have happened even if I'd spent the whole night here. And as for telling him the girl who'd come over to keep me company on a long lonely night was Soledad, well, that just would have required I tell him the rest of the story. And I just explained why that didn't matter.

So I streamlined things to make it easier for everyone involved.

But I digress.

– Stop lying to me, Web.

– I? What? Lying to you? I would never.

He took his face from his hands.

– Before you say anything else and really fuck up our relationship, let me tell you something about modern technology.

– Uh. OK.

He leaned back in his chair.

– Modern technology is an amazing thing. It allows us to do amazing things. Go to the moon. Cure disease. Watch TV. It also allows us to communicate over vast distances.

He reaches for the phone.

– And check our messages remotely.

He pressed a button on the phone.

Urn, hi, this is, uh, this is Soledad Nye. The woman in Malibu. You cleaned my dad's messi I mean, oh fuck, that was horrible. You cleaned the house. Anyway. I was hoping I could get in touch with one of your employees. Web. I wanted to talk to him about… anyway. My number, well, he should call me on my cell. The number. Hang on. Hello? Hello? Crap! Crap! Uh, Web?

Yeah, yeah, it's me. Oh fucking crap! Jesus. Are you OK?

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

– Motherfucker!

– Didn't we already cover that?

Po Sin stopped hammering his desk and faced me.

– What?

– Nothing.

He put his hands on his knees and rose from his chair.

– Are you certain of that?

– Yeah.

He took a step.

– Because I'm just about positive I just heard the guy, the guy who had a female client, I expressly told him to stay away from, over here when he was on watch last night and played fuck games on the job till he passed out under the bed and my van was stolen, I think I just heard that guy make something like a joke. Am I mistaken? Because if I am not mistaken, I would take it very poorly.

– I.

The phone rang, cutting off whatever verbal strategy I might have mustered to keep him from crushing my spine.

Po Sin raised a finger.

– Hold that thought.

I wondered if he meant whatever I'd been about to say, or the thought that he was about to crush my spine. This leading to the sudden worry that perhaps he could read minds. Sleep deprivation, etc, having clouded my reasoning a bit.

Po Sin picked up the phone.

– Clean Team. What?

He looked at me, slitted his eyes.

– No. He is not.

He hung up the phone and pointed at it.