Voice of the Blood by Jemiah Jefferson

Author:Jemiah Jefferson [Jefferson, Jemiah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror, Fiction
ISBN: 9781428511156
Publisher: DP
Published: 2011-04-30T22:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Eight

Chloe and I had gone to Denny's for an afternoon breakfast of hash browns, apple sauce, orange juice, coffee, and cigarettes. We must have looked like sisters; Chloe voluptuously plump in a lacy dress and me more butch in jeans and a T-shirt, both of us with wild damp straggles of curly hair and makeup-less night-bleached skin. She was telling me her repertoire of sick jokes, which was vast, and had me snorting orange juice into my nasal passages.

At once Lovely burst into the Denny's, his forelock flyaway, and threw himself at my feet next to the table. "Oh, Ariane!" he wailed. "I'm so so sorry, please don't hate me, I hope you don't hate me."

Looking around the restaurant at the amused gazes of the other patrons, I pulled him off the floor and made room for him beside me on the yellow vinyl. "Ummm… of course I don't hate you," I mumbled. "Why would I hate you?"

He clung to me, burying his face in my shoulder. "I'm just such a slut! I should respect you!"

Chloe smiled and lit another Turkish oval; I realized that Lovely must have been referring to last night's public blow job at the club. I gave the boy a reassuring squeeze. "No, don't even worry about it," I said, shaking my head and stirring my coffee. "You should hate me. I'm horning in on your boyfriend."

Lovely wiped his nose and began picking at the hash browns with his slim fingers. "No, he's totally not my boyfriend," he said. "I could never hate you. You're so cool."

I must have been blushing something awful; Chloe was all but grinning by now. Lovely didn't allow me to go on apologizing, but drew a little crumpled black plastic bag out of his baggy back pocket. "I stole this for you, to make it up to you," he said, holding it out at arm's length. I took the little parcel from him and unwrapped it; it was a gorgeous silver pocket watch on a chain, etched with a picture of a rat's skull, open in a furious-looking snarl.

I was aghast. "Oh, Lovely, you shouldn't have."

"I know, but I saw it, and I thought about you immediately. Do you like it?"

"Where did you get it?"

He shrugged and smiled a wicked child's smile. "Nowhere," he said.

Chloe leaned over to look. "Lovely's got what you call talent," she explained. "He could steal a warhead from the Pentagon. He'd just stuff it down those idiotic big shorts of his."

"Shut up, bitch," Lovely said playfully. "Can I bum a cigarette?" He lit up and looked around him at the Denny's, now held in thrall by our dark little table. "Where is our lord and master anyway?"

"He's fucking Nora," I said tiredly. I played with the watch, flicking the delicate exoskeleton open to look at the face, already set to the right time. "He dismissed it as an 'unpleasant obligation.' You know, what a hardship."

"I can't stand Nora," Lovely said. "She's so holier-than-thou.

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