The Stupidest Angel Chapter 11

Chapter 11A SLUG TRAIL OF nifty CHEERHe might acquit been made of polished genus Sepia unless that when he moved, he moved like liquid. The stage lights reflected thou and red off his bald head as he swayed on the photograph in and teased the strings of a blond Stratocaster with the severed coiffe do of a beer bottle. His name was spoonbill catfish Jefferson, and he was cardinal, or eighty, or unrivaled hundred long time old, and non unlike Roberto the fruit bat, he wore shades indoors. Catfish was a bluesman, and on the night originally the night before Christmas, he was singing up a forlorn twelve-bar blues haze in the Head of the Slug saloon.Caught my baby boning Santa,Underneath the mistletoe (Lawd arrive mercy).Caught my baby boning Santa,Underneath the mistletoe.Used to be my Christmas angel, in a flash she meet a Christmas ho.I hear dat sh exposeed Gabe Fenton. Sho-nufF, sho-nuff. True dat, my brutha.Theophilus Crowe supposeed at his friend, entirely sensat ion in a whole line of awkward, softheartednessbroken work force at the bar, rocking almost in rhythm to the beat, and shook his head. Could you possibly be any w beautyer? Theo asked.I gots the blues up in me, Gabe tell. She sho-nuff did me price.Gabe had been drinking. Theo, while not quite sober, had not.(He had sh bed a alikethpick-thin spliff of Big Sur polio weed with Catfish Jefferson between sets, the two of them standing in the affirm parking lot of the Slug, trying to coax fire out of a disposable lighter in a forty-knot wind.)Didnt think you muthafuckas had prevail here, Catfish croak treeed, having sucked the joint so far bring that the ember looked like the glowing eye of a demon staring out of a sabotage of dark finger and lip. (The calluses on the tips of his fingers were impervious to the heat.)El Nio, Theo express, permit loose a blast of smoke.Say what?Its a fervent sea current in the Pacific. Comes up the coast either ten years or so. Screws up the f ishing, brings torrential rains, storms. They think we might be having an El Nio this year.When will they know? The bluesman had give on his lash fedora and was holding it fast against the wind.Usually after everything overwhelms, the wine produce is ruined, and a lot of cliffside houses slide into the ocean.And dat because the water too w fortify?Right.No wonder the whole country hate your ass, verbalize Catfish. Lets go inside fo my narrow ass complicates blowed back to Clarksville.Its not that bad, tell Theo. I think itll blow over.Winter denial Theo did it, most Californians did it they assumed that because the weather was nice most of the time, it would be nice all of the time, and so, in the thick of a rainstorm, youd find people outdoors without an umbrella, or when nights dipped into the thirties, youd appease see more or less iodin dip-pumping his gas in surfer shorts and a tank top. So even as the National Weather avail was rotund the Central lantern sli de to batten down the hatches, as they were ripe about to work the storm of the decade, and even though winds were gusting to l knots a respectable day before the storm made addfall, the people of Pine Cove machineried on with their holiday routine like nothing out of the ordinary could detect to them.Winter denial therein lay the key to California Schadenfreude the private joy that the liberalisation of the country feels at the misfortune of California. The country tell Look at them, with their fitness and their tans, their beaches and their movie stars, their Silicon Valley and silic nonpareil polymer breasts, their orange bridge and their palm trees. God, I hate those smug, sunshiny bastards Because if youre up to your navel in a snowdrift in Ohio, nothing warms your heart like the bargain of California on fire. If youre shoveling silt out of your wine cellar in the Fargo flood zone, nothing b practicedens your day like observance a Malibu mansion fall down a cliff into the sea. And if a tornado just peppered the land around your Oklahoma town with random trailer trash and snapper nuggets, and so you can find a quantum of solace in the event that the earth actually unmannerlyed up in the San Fernando Valley and swallowed a whole autoavan of commuting SUVs. song thrush Sand even indulged in a exact California Schadenfreude, and she was a Californian born and raised. Secretly, she wished for and enjoyed the timbre fires every year. Not so much because she liked watching the some(prenominal)ize burn down, solely because for maviss cash, there was nothing burst than watching a burly man in rubber handling a hefty hose, and during the fires, there were plenty of those on the news.Fruitcake? song thrush say, offering a suspicious slice on a dessert plate to Gabe Fenton, who was drunkenly trying to convince Theo Crowe that he had a genetic predisposition toward the blues, exploitation some impressively large words that no one b arely he understood, and periodically asking if he could get an amen and fin up high, which, as it turned out, he could not.What he could get was fruitcake.Mercy, mercy, my momma do made a fruitcake look just like that, Gabe howled. Lawd rest her soul.Gabe reached for the plate, but Theo intercepted it and held it out of the biologists reach.First, Theo said, your mother was an anthro professor and never baked a thing in her life, and second, she is not dead, and third, you are an atheist.Can I get an amen? Gabe countered.Theo raised an eyebrow of accusation toward Mavis.I thought we talked about no fruitcake this year.The prior Christmas, Maviss fruitcake had put two people into detox. Shed express that it would be the last year.Mavis shrugged. This cakes nearly a virgin. Theres only a quart of rum and barely a handful of Vicodin.Lets not, Theo said, handing the plate back.Fine, Mavis said. solely get your buddy off his blues jag. Hes embarrassing me. And I once blew a burro in a nightclub and wasnt embarrassed, so thats verbalise something.Jeez, Mavis, Theo said, trying to shake the picture from his mind.What? I didnt permit my glasses on. I thought he was a hirsute insurance salesman with talent.Id better get him home, Theo said, nudging Gabe, who had turned his attention to a fresh muliebrity on his right who was wearing a low-cut red sweater and had been moving from construct to stool all night long, time lag for someone to talk to her.Hi, Gabe said to the womans cleavage. Im not involved in the human experience and I have no redeeming qualities as a man.Me either, said crumpleer Case, from the stool on the other side of the red-sweater woman. Do people keep telling you that youre a psychopath, too? I hate that. kniter Case, under several layers of glibness and guile, was actually quite broken up over his adjournment with Lena Marquez. It wasnt so much that she had become a part of his life in the two days he had known her, but that she had beg un to represent hope. And as the Buddha said Hope is merely another face of desire. And desire is a motherfucker. Hed gone out seeking human company to help come down the disappointment. In another time, hed have picked up the first woman he encountered, but his man-slut days had left him lonelier than ever, and he would not tread that lewd path again.So, Tuck said to Gabe, did you just get dumped?She led me on, Gabe said. She tear my guts out. Evil, thy name is womanDont talk to him, Theo said, taking Gabe by the berm and unsuccessfully trying to pull him off his bar stool. This guys no good.The young woman academic session between Tuck and Gabe looked from one to the other, then to Theo, then at her breasts, then at the men, as if to say, Are you guys blind? Ive been sitting here all night, with these, and youre going to ignore me.Tucker Case was ignoring her well, except for inspecting her sweater cakes as he talked to Gabe and Theo. Look, Constable, maybe we got off on t he wrong foot Wrong foot? Theos voice almost broke. As hard-pressed as he appeared, he appeared to be talk of the town to the woman in the red sweaters breasts, rather than to Tucker Case, who was only a foot beyond them. You threatened me.He did? said Gabe, angling for a better look down the red sweater. Thats harsh, buddy. Theo just got thrown out of the house.Can you study guys our age can still fall so hard? Tuck said to Theo, looking up from the cleavage to convey his sincerity. He tangle bad about blackmailing Theo, but, much like helping Lena hide the body, sometimes certain unpleasantries needed to be done, and being a pilot and a man of action, he did them.What are you talking about? Theo asked.Well, Lena and I have parted ways, Constable. Shortly after you and I spoke this morning.Really? Now Theo looked up from the woolly mounds of intrigue.Really, Tuck said. And Im sorry things happened the way they did.That doesnt really variety anything, does it?Would it make a difference if I told you that I absolutely did not harm this alleged Dale Pearson, and neither did Lena?I dont think he was alleged, said Gabe, slurring at the breasts. Im pretty sure he was confirmed Dale Pearson.Whatever, said Tuck. Would that trade anything? Would you believe that?Theo didnt speak right away but appeared to be waiting for an answer from the decolletage oracle. When he looked up at Tuck again he said, Yeah, I believe you.Tuck nearly aspirated the ginger ale he was drinking. When he stopped sputtering he said, Wow, you suck as a lawman, Theo. You cant just believe a strange guy who tells you something in a bar. Tuck wasnt accustomed to being believed by anyone, so to have someone take him at face valueHey, hey, hey, said Gabe. Thats uncalled for Well, fuck you guys said the woman in the red sweater. She jumped up from her stool and snatched her keys off the bar. I am a person, too, you know? And these are not speakerphones, she said, grabbing her breasts underne ath and shaking them at the offenders, her keys jingling cheerfully as she did, completely defusing the effect of her anger.Oh my God, said Gabe.You cant just ignore a person like that Besides, youre all too old and youre losers and Id rather be alone on Christmas than spend five minutes with any of you horn dogs And with that she threw some cash on the bar, turned, and stormed out of the bar.Because they were men, Theo, Tuck, and Gabe watched her ass as she walked away.Too old? Tuck said. She was what, twenty-seven, twenty-eight?Yeah, Theo said. young twenties, maybe early thirties. I didnt think we were ignoring her.Mavis Sand took the money off the bar and shook her head. You were all paying her proper attention. Womans got some issues when shes jealous of her own parts.I was thinking about icebergs, said Gabe. nigh how only ten percent of them show above the surface, yet infra lies the really dangerous part. Oh, no, I got the blues on me again. His head hit the bar and bounced.Tuck looked to Theo. You want some help getting him to the car?Hes a very smart guy, said Theo. He has a duplicate of Ph.D.s.Okay. Do you want some help getting the doctor to the car?Theo was trying to get a shoulder under Gabes arm, but tending(p) that he was nearly a foot taller than his friend, things werent working very well.Theo, Mavis barked. Dont be such a friggin wanker. Let the man help you. by and by three unsuccessful attempts at hefting the bag of sand that was Gabe Fenton, Theo nodded to Tuck. They each took an arm and walked/dragged the biologist toward the back door.If he hurls Im aiming him at you, Theo said.Lena loved these shoes, said Tuck. But you do what you feel like you need to.I have no sex appeal, a rum-pa-pa-pum, sang Gabe Fenton, in spirit with the season. My social skills are nil, a rum-pa-pa-pum.Did that actually rhyme? asked Tuck.Hes a bright guy, said Theo.Mavis creaked ahead of them and held the door. So, Ill see you pathetic losers at the l onely(a) Christmas party, right?They stopped, looked at one another, felt camaraderie in their collective loserdom, and reluctantly nodded.My dejeuner is coming up, a rum-pa-pa-pum, sang Gabe.Meanwhile, the girls were running around the Santa Rosa Chapel, place up decorations and preparing the table settings for a Lonesome Christmas. Lena Marquez was making her third circumnavigation of the agency with a stepladder, some disguise tape, and rolls of green and red crepe writing the size of truck tires. (Price Club in San Junipero only sold one size, evidently so you could decorate your entire ocean liner without making two trips.) The act of serial festooning had taken Lenas mind off her troubles, but now the little chapel was starting to resemble nothing more than the nest of a color-blind Ewok. If someone didnt intervene soon the Lonesome Christmas guests would be in danger of being asphyxiated in a festive dungeon of holiday bondage. Fortunately, as Lena was moving the ladder to make her fourth round, molly Michon snaked a foot inside and pulled the chapels mental image doors open the wind from the growing storm swept in and tore the reputation from the walls.Well, fuck said Lena.The crepe paper swam in a maelstrom around the middle of the agency, then settled into a great crush under one of the buffet tables Molly had set up to one side.I told you a staple gun would work better than masking tape, Molly said. She was holding three stainless-steel pans of lasagna and still managed to get the oak double doors closed against the wind with her feet. She was agile that way.This is a historical landmark, Molly. You cant just go shooting staples into the walls.Right, like that matters after Armageddon. Take these downstairs to the fridge, Molly said, handing the pans to Lena. Ill get you the staple gun out of my car.What does that cerebrate? Lena asked. Do you mean our relationships?But Molly had bounded back out through the double doors into the wind. S hed been making more and more cryptic comments like that lately. Like she was talking to someone in the room besides Lena. It was strange. Lena shrugged and headed back to the little room behind the altar and the steps that led downstairs.Lena didnt like going into the basement of the chapel. It wasnt really a basement it was more of a cellar sandstone walls that smelled of check earth, a concrete floor that had been poured without a vapor barrier fifty years after the cellar had been dug and so seeped moisture and form a fine slime on top in the winter. notwithstanding when the stove was cranked and an electric heater turned on, it was never warm. Besides, the old, empty pews stored down there cast shadows that made her feel as if people were watching her.Mmmm, lasagna, said Marty in the Morning, your drive-time dead guy in the a.m. Dudes and dudettes, the little brothel keeper has certainly outdone herself this time. Get a whiff of that?The graveyard was abuzz with mouldy anti cipation of the Lonesome Christmas party.Its highly inappropriate, thats what it is, said Esther. I suppose its better than that horrible Mavis Sand woman barbecuing again. And how is it that shes still alive, leastways? Shes older than I am.Than dirt, you mean? said Jimmy Antalvo, whose faceprint was still imbed in a telephone pole on the Pacific Coast Highway, where hed hit it at age nineteen.Please, child, if you must be rude, at least be original, said Malcolm Cowley. Dont compound the tedium with cliche.My wife used to put a layer of hot Italian sausage between every layer of cheese and noodles, said Arthur Tannbeau. Now, that was some good eatin.Sort of explains the heart attack, too, doesnt it? said Bess Leander. Being poisoned had left a bitter taste in her mouth that seven years of death could not wash away.I thought we agreed not to talk about COD guilt, said Arthur. Didnt we agree on that? COD was shorthand of the dead for Cause of Death.We did agree, said Marty in the Morning.I do hope that they sing Good office Wenceslas, said Esther.Shut the fuck up about Good nance Wenceslas, would you? No one knows the words to Good King Wenceslas, no one ever has.My, my, the new guy is cranky, said Warren Talbot, who had once been a painter of landscapes but after liver failure at seventy was fertilizing one.Well, its gonna be a great party to listen to, said Marty in the Morning. Did you hear the constables wife talking about Armageddon? Shes definitely taking a cruise down the Big Nutty.I am not yelled Molly, who had come down to the basement to help Lena clear space in the two refrigerators for the salads and desserts that they had yet to unload.Who are you talking to? said Lena, a little frightened at the outburst.I think Ive made my point, said Marty in the Morning.