Blood Ties by Robert J Crane

Author:Robert J Crane [Crane, Robert J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Unread
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

46.

Friday

This was a perfect artistic opportunity, and Friday never missed those sorts of things, because they came around all too infrequently.

He was splayed out atop a Toyota Prius, one of the girliest cars in the history of femmedom, his cell phone extended to the heavens. He’d managed to pull it out of his rear pocket just before impact. Death may claim him, but his photo roll needed to live in posterity. And hell if he was going to pay for Cloud storage. That was an idiot’s game.

Friday lined up the selfie, trying to capture the true wretchedness of his state. There was some blood seeping out of the back of his head onto the tan paint, rolling through the creases where he’d landed on the car.

Sure, he was in a lot of pain, but suffering was what one did for their art. He didn’t have to work particularly hard to channel an agonized look as he clicked a couple of selfies of him lying atop the car. This was pure photojournalism right here, almost pornographic in its beauty and how he composed it to capture his suffering all in the frame.

“I’m going to call this...‘That Friday Feeling’,” he grunted, choosing the best one and uploading it, then adding a few of the usual hashtag suspects through a macro and putting in that bold, tasteful, amazing, totally kittens caption for the photo. “This should win a Pulitzer if the academy hasn’t lost their mind.” He dropped the phone to his chest, utterly spent.

Casting his eyes up the shining, reflective surface of the Socialite pyramid of success, Friday sighed. A little blood drizzled out of his lip. Internal injuries, definitely. He wiggled his big toe, then the others on each foot. Not paralyzed. That was good news, because dancing was such a key part of his act, and while he probably could perform from a wheelchair and still put on a hell of a show—maybe even get some additional press attention for being so plucky in the face of terrible adversity—it was better if he didn’t have to steer around that particular obstacle.

Tires squealed somewhere nearby and Friday lifted his head. A van had pulled up, and out came four people. One was an old guy with an old gun. Another was a young guy with no guns, looked like a little bitch and smiled like one, too. Then there was a chick with a small afro, hot, great ass, decent rack—

Oh, and there was Veronika. And she looked pissed as ever, her eyes on him.

“Friday, you okay?” she asked, not bothering to get any closer.

“I don’t know if I can walk,” he said, trying to make himself sound as pathetic as possible. Weirdo hippie chicks like Veronika were into weak men like Reed. Well, maybe not Veronika, because she was into chicks. But maybe that meant vulnerability was the key to her panties? Either way... “Please...help me?”

“I don’t really have time for that right now,” Veronika said, still looking at him, but walking backward with her other friends.

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