The California Roll by John Vorhaus

Author:John Vorhaus
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780307463173
Publisher: HARMONY (2010年3月16日)
Published: 2011-02-01T07:03:24.065000+00:00

* * *

*Some people know what all this means; I personally do not.

* * *

17.

name that religion

T he trouble with having a Mirplo for a chaperone is he’s such a fucking blabbermouth. I should have known he would report back to Hines about my hookup with Yuan—did know it, in fact, but figured he’d be his usual slack self about checking in. But that was before I learned Hines was dirty. Or rather, alleged to be. In this soap-bubble world of mine, the only fact I felt I could completely trust was Scovil’s death threat. Everything else was suspect. Still, if Hines was bent, then he’d be leaning hard on poor Mirplo. It’s what you do when you’re playing both sides against the middle—that, plus fret about running out of middle.

Thus I had barely come down from my last adrenaline spike when an ungentle pounding on my front door triggered my fight-or-flight response again. One thing was for sure: Once I got through all this (if I got through all this), I would definitely have to move. Too many people knew where I lived now, and seemed to have no compunction about dropping in unannounced. I felt like I was identified on Maps to the Stars’ Homes.

My apartment had one of those old-school peepholes, a tiny door covered by a wrought-iron grill. I unlatched it and peered out to find Milval Hines shifting nervously from foot to foot on my doorstep. I had seen Hines wearing all sorts of attitude masks, from clueless wannabe grifter to able investment banker to hard-nosed Jake. I had never seen him all twitchy and itchy like he was just then. It didn’t strike me as a mask.

“Open up,” he demanded.

“Not sure that’s a good idea,” I said. “You seem a little edgy right now.”

“Want edgy? I’ll give you edgy.” He snaked his hand under his suit coat and whipped out a coal-black service automatic, which he leveled at the peephole. Oh, this just gets better and better, I thought. I pondered whether a bullet fired at that range would blast through the grill or bounce off, but decided not to push the experiment to the testing stage. I opened the door and let Hines in. Good news: He put his gun away.

“I need a drink,” he said, exactly like a man who, well, needed a drink.

“So do I,” I replied, “but this is a dry house.”

He looked at me like I had syphilis. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he said, “you don’t even drink?”

“I drink,” I said. “Just not at home.” Flashing back to my recent one-man tequila fiesta, I mentally added, at least not when I can help it.

Hines paced anxiously back and forth, his eyes darting everywhere as if looking for lurking monsters. What could have turned him upside down so fast?

“You met Yuan,” he said suddenly.

“Yep.”

“How’d that go?”

“I eased him in. He thinks I’m a trust-fund baby with more money than common sense.” Hines eyed me suspiciously. I suppose he was measuring my

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