Joe Pitt 2 - No Dominion (23 page)

He raises his arms, indicating the room.

--Sweet pad, nice threads, piles of money.

He looks up at Poncho. She bends and kisses him. He looks at me.

--Beautiful ladies. Like James Bond, man. But cooler.

He frowns.

--But then I'd have to go see M. Go Uptown like I was going to class, stop by her place.
Have tea for fuck sake. Give my report. Man! That is not the kind of Vampyre action I was
looking for. Then this thing came up.

I finish my beer.

--Tell me about that.

--Man, talk about your blessings in disguise. OK, so I'm down here. I mean, she's had me
down here, but laying veeeeery low. Don't want to get scented. Once I've kind of
established residency, I open a vein one night. Actually, one of her boys opened it for
me, but that's just details. The good part is when I stumble into a place we knew Tom
liked to hang at. This agro-vegan joint on C. I come in bleeding, the staff, it was like
raw meat to them, they freak out. Tom is all over me, saying he'll get me an ambulance and
shit. I'm pretty sure he thought a free meal had just landed in his lap. Then he got a
good smell. Once he realized I was infected, I moved up from meal to recruit. Not his
fault he didn't know I'd been infected for years. I did the whole act.

He puts his hands to the sides of his head.

--
Vyrus? What Vyrus? Vampyre? You're crazy! Crazy! It can't be! It just can't be!
Well, you saw my act a couple times today. What can I say? I got talent! So I played it
freaked out, but not for
too
long. Then I played quick study, but not
too
quick. Then I played true believer. I played that all the way. Tom loved it. I was his
star pupil. All the Anarchist meetings, calling on me to answer questions about doctrine
and shit? A total drag. But I'll give the guy this: He was sincere. For whatever that got
him.

I take a drag, having witnessed what being sincere got Tom.

--What about Terry?

--Terry! Now that man, he is the mac. Me, I think he had me pegged the first time Tom
brought me in for vetting. He sat back, let Lydia and Tom and some of the other council
members drill me on my story and my
compatibility with the goals of the Society.

He makes his hand into a puppet and flaps its mouth open and shut.

--All that crap. He barely asked shit. But I think he knew then. Not that I had a clue. I
thought I was smooth. But, man, well, you know, Terry is the smoothest. I had no idea he
was on to me until he showed up here with Hurley and gave me the score.

--What was the score?

He shakes his head.

--What do you think it was? Man, the score was tell him every fucking thing he wanted to
know or Hurley would start chopping stuff off of me until I was a biscuit. No problem,
man, I squawked. And I got to say, greatest piece of luck I ever had. I spilled it all.
Spilled who I was, where I came from, where the anathema was coming from, all of it. And
Terry? He watched me, just like he watched during my vetting, and when I was done
spilling, he made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Man, an offer I would never refuse.

I hold up my empty, start to stand.

--Mind if I get another?

Poncho waves me back down and gets it for me.

I take it from her hand.

She gives me a hard look, still pissed at the way I beat on her squeeze.

I drink the beer.

--So, Terry's offer?

The Count takes Poncho's hand as she circles back around him.

--Well, here I am, right? I play my part in this show, and I get to stay down here. No more
Mrs. Vandewater. No more
sieg heil.
No worrying about when I'm gonna get called back and told to put on a suit and act like
all the other little robots. Freedom, man. That was the deal.

--So you told Vandewater Terry's position was unstable.

--Yeah. Told her he was having trouble with Tom. Told her we could rock things down here,
maybe start an outright revolution
if
we could make it look like
Tom
was behind the anathema. But I told her it couldn't come from me, Terry wouldn't buy it
from me. It had to come from someone he had a history with.

--Me.

He points at his nose.

--Bingo. Terry was looking to ditch Tom. He said he needed a witness for a trial. He said
he needed two. He said I was good because I was one of Tom's guys. But he said the other
one needed to be old school. He said it needed to be someone Lydia would accept. He
mentioned you.

--It worked.

--Hell yeah! I sent you Uptown. Terry said not to be too specific. Said it would look weird
if I knew exactly where the shit was coming from. Said to point you to the Hood and that
would be close enough. Fuck it, it turned out OK. Terry said it would. You wound up in
Vandewater's clutches, she messed with your head a little, you made a move, she let you
escape and told you Tom was her courier as you were on your way out.

--And all she had to do was lose an eyeball and take a bellyful of bullets.

He waves his hand back and forth.

--Trust me, for her cause, losing an eyeball, taking some lead? That is nothing. If she
thought it was gonna bring down
the Society,
she'd cut off her tits. If she thought it'd bring down
the Hood,
she'd cut off her tits and fuck Dexter Predo. And she hates his ass. Lady is a stone
zealot. Cra-zy. Period. Funny, though, she thinks you're coming down here, gonna blow shit
sky-high, gonna rock the boat. Had no idea she was helping to set Tom up for the fall.
Helping to, like, entrench Terry's chairmanship. Crazy, right? All the reversals, the
double-agenting, I loved it. Like
Deep Cover
and I'm all Laurence Fishburne. In too deep for my own good, flippin' and trippin'. But I
had it under control. It's easy if you're not worried about right and wrong. You know, if
you're just worried about yourself. Priorities, man, I have 'em.

--And the rest?

--Easy-peasy, man. Hey, I don't want you bouncing me around every day, but you made it easy
to play the role. That shit was scary. And then in the
trial
? That worked out perfect. The way you were playing it all stoic set me up just right when
I cracked. I mean, the plan was, you'd be telling your story and I'd hop in with mine. But
the way it played was better yet. And my cherry, just when everyone is
sure
I'm full of it, just when they
know
I'm lying through my teeth, when I pop out with,
I'm a spy!
Did you see the look on Tom's face? He shit his pants. He
must
have shit his pants. You though, you were stone cold.
That's what old lady Vandewater told me.
Snap! That was it for Tom. Game ovaah!

--Yeah. Terry said something about Lydia?

--Oh, damn, Lydia. She really a lesbo? Cuz I'm just saying, some of that? I could do some
of that.

Poncho slaps the top of his head.

He looks up at her.

--There's plenty to go around, baby. No worries.

I grind some sleep from my eyes.

--How'd she go for you getting cut loose?

--Terry Bird to the rescue. After you took off to deal with Tom, Terry did some additional
interrogation.
He convinced Lydia, in a way where she was kind of thinking it was her own idea, that
keeping me around was best. Double agent they could use to send false information back to
the Coalition. She went for it. Plus, you know, the money. The Society is always hurting
for money. Long as I'm here, I can help with that. So she agreed. House arrest. Gonna put
a watch on me until I prove my loyalty. But that'll come soon enough. And, hey!

He shows off his apartment and his girls again.

--Not like it's a hard life up in here.

I look around.

--No, I can see that. Amongst all the other luxury, you got a phone?

--Sure, sure, landline's right here.

He grabs a cordless handset from the coffee table and tosses it to me.

I point at Poncho's room.

--OK if I use it in there?

--Sure, man.

I get up. So does The Count.

--Hey, Joe. We are cool, right? I mean, I am. I'm totally cool. I think you handled this
shit straight up. Not easy getting played like that. You got nothing but respect from me.

I shrug.

--Yeah, we're cool. All in the way of business. And hey.

I reach in my jacket and pull out the anathema.

--Got something for you.

I toss it to him.

--From the old lady's. Fresh this morning. Terry sent it over.

He catches it.

--Oh yeah! Knew he'd come through.

He gives me a grin.

--Thought I smelled a little somethin' somethin' on you.

He gives it a sniff.

--It's a little tired, but it's good.

He turns to the girls.

--See, ladies, told you Joe is our man. Told you he knows business from personal.

Pigtails is on all fours, arching her back cat-style.

--When we gonna get personal, Joe Pitt?

She winks and hops up to help PJs get their works together.

The Count hands the bag to Poncho.

--Sure you don't want to hang, Joe? I know you don't indulge, but the fridge is stocked
with regular, man. Have yourself a pint. Drink some booze. Get an old school buzz going.

He comes closer, puts an arm over my shoulder, points at Pigtails, kneeling on the floor
with the other girls, getting the anathema ready.

--She really has taken a shine to you. And trust me, it's freaky good. Especially after she
has a skinful. She's in another world, man.

I look at her. She catches me, blows a kiss, goes back to work.

--Maybe after my call.

He slaps my shoulder.

--That's my man!

He joins the girls. I walk into the room made of doors.

Most of it's taken up by a big mattress on the floor. Funky designer clothes from Lower
East Side boutiques spill out of a chest of drawers. Three mobiles made of tin and colored
glass dangle from the ceiling. I duck to go under one and graze it with my shoulder. It
tinkles. One of the doors is paned with frosted glass. Through it I can see the ghosts of
The Count and his ladies, in a circle on the floor.

I dial the phone.

He answers.

--Hello?

--It's me.

--Hey, Joe. What's up?

--I'll take the job.

--Wow. Well. Good for you, man. About time you stopped being just a piece of the mosaic and
started to help make it. Help make, I know how this is going to sound, but help make the
world a better place.

I think about the world. I think about all the room there is for making it better than
what it is. I think about the likelihood that I'm a guy who can do that.

--Yeah, let's do that, Terry. Let's clean it up.

--That's the spirit. You come by tomorrow night. We'll start talking. In earnest, I mean.

--Yeah. Sure. Tomorrow. I gotta go now. Got something to take care of.

I hang up.

I walk out through the space between two of the doors, hitting the mobile again. Hearing
it chime.

Poncho and PJs are already out. Wrapped in their little coma of dreams. Seeing whatever
visions it is they see. Pigtails is waiting for hers.

The Count points at the fridge.

--Sure you don't?

I touch the blisters on my hands.

--A pint wouldn't hurt. Or a drink.

He gets up.

--That's the shit.

He grabs me a pint, brings it back along with a half-full bottle of Jack.

I retake my seat, open the pint, hit it.

The Count looks at me as he sets Pigtails up. He holds up the syringe.

--Want to do the honors?

Pigtails writhes on the floor.

--C'mon, Joe. Do it for me.

I finish the blood. Set the empty bag aside.

--Sure.

The Count hands me the syringe. I look at the careful measure of anathema inside. Pigtails
is watching me, panting.

--C'mon, Joe.

I slip the needle into her arm. Push the plunger. She sighs, shivers, goes under. I go
back to my seat, open the Jack, pour a shot down my throat. It mixes sweet with the blood.

The Count starts to fill the last syringe.

--You won't regret staying, Joe. She is wicked crazy. Start in on her when she's still half
on the nod, she'll do things no girl would ever think of doing.

I take another drink.

--Where'd you get them, anyway?

He looks up.

--The girls?

--Yeah.

He looks back down, focused on filling the syringe with the proper measure.

--Hell, man, I infected them. Wasn't easy. Had to take a couple shots at it. But I followed
the old lady's plan. Made a profile. You know, looked for chicks like me. Couple of them
couldn't take the Vyrus at all, rejected it outright. Couple others just freaked out. But
I had to have me the three brides. You were right about that, man. Totally clichŽ, but I
had to have it. Like the ultimate Vampyre status symbol and all. I know it's weak, but,
like I said, spoiled rotten. That's me.

I point at his syringe.

--Why don't you put a little more in there?

He looks at it.

--Oh no, man. You don't mess with this shit. Too much and you are fucked for life in the
worst way.

--Yeah, that's what Vandewater said.

He grins.

--Hey, is it true what Terry told me?

--What's that?

--Said you dosed her. Gave her a hot shot. Said she's hooked on the bad dose now.

--Got me. I didn't even know she lived through it.

--That's what he said.

--Must be true.

--Oh, man, that is the worst. She is so messed up! Bitch's gonna be jonesin' for the bad
dose the rest of her life. That's sooo F-ed in the A.

--That Spaz at Doc Holiday's. That was you hooked him up, right?

He's swabbing his arm.

--Yeah. Had to get the ball rolling. He was just a fish lost in the woods. Needed friends.
Gave him a little of the needle and he was gone. I'd been haunting your background a
little, looking for a good spot to open your eyes. Terry said he needed
an inciting, like, agent.
Whatever. I met The Spaz out back, by that take-out window they got. Gave him the needle
good to go. Not a heavy dose, just enough to push him over the side. Told him to hit it in
the can. Pow! That was that. I watched some of that through the window. Man, he was all
over the place. Thought for a second I overdid it. But you, man, you handled that shit.