Robert Asprin's Dragons Run (15 page)

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Mama’s had some of the best burgers that Griffen had ever eaten. The small diner on St. Peter offered a wide menu with some pretty odd names, but they all tasted good. Though Griffen would never have considered the combination before Jerome persuaded him to try it, he had become fond of the peanut butter burger. With no games on the calendar to oversee, Jerome decided to join them for dinner and the show to follow.

“You never came by last evening,” Griffen said, scooping up molten peanut butter and a crumble of bacon from his dish with a chunk of baked potato. “How’d the situation play out at the Days Inn?”

“Thom Masters got drunk, as usual, like I told you. On the way out, he started puking in the foyer. When the night manager, Nelly, came over to help him, he socked her in the face. Almost knocked out a tooth. I tell you, Grifter, you’re going to have to turn down his money.”

Griffen made a face. “He’s a good loser, Jer.”

“He’s been hitting the bottle too hard at the games. It’s impossible for the caterers to keep him from helping himself. That’s not their job. If he only behaves at a game if you or I play, he’s not worth it. You want me to phone him?”

“No, I will. And I’ll send some flowers to Nelly.”

“Make it a bottle of Crown Royal,” Jerome said, with a grin. “She’s got expensive taste. How’s the election stuff going?”

“Pretty well,” Fox Lisa said. “Griffen’s getting tired of it, but I think it’s exciting.”

“I’m not tired of it,” Griffen lied. Both of the others blew raspberries at him. “Okay, it’s not first on my list of favorite activities, but it’s interesting to see how candidates get elected.”

“Like making sausage, or so I’ve heard,” Jerome said with a wise grin.

“Worse.”

“Now, that’s not true,” Fox Lisa said. “It’s pretty exciting to see how those running for government office want to help people.”

“Help themselves, more likely,” Jerome said. “I hear it’s easy to line your pockets in the name of those very people.”

“That’s not fair. Elected officials make far less than their counterparts in corporate jobs.”

“They make that choice.”

“I think most public servants are basically honest,” Fox Lisa said. Both Jerome and Griffen made derisive noises. “

“Really, girl? How long you lived in this state?” Jerome asked. “The home of Huey Long?”

“All my life,” Fox Lisa said. “The good people outnumber the bad by a hundred to one.”

“But it isn’t the good people with their hands in other people’s pockets.”

“Well, Penny’s not like that.”

“Yes, she is,” Griffen said. Fox Lisa glared at him, then her expression softened.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me yesterday?”

Griffen felt terrible destroying Fox Lisa’s illusions, but it was necessary.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I know you put her on a pedestal.”

“She was really accepting a bribe from a loup garou?”

“She was what?” Jerome interrupted them.

Keeping an eye out for eavesdroppers, Griffen told them what had happened after Fox Lisa and the others had left the ladies’ room. When he finished, Jerome threw back his head and laughed.

“She has balls,” Jerome said. “I take it back, Grifter. I’d vote for someone that tough. Dragon or not, if Penny’s willing to make enemies that powerful, she’s got something going for her.”

“I told you,” Fox Lisa said happily. “I’d do almost anything for her.”

“Watch out,” Griffen said. “She might ask you to.”

•   •   •

As
the evening went on, the restaurant filled up in anticipation of the late show. The star attraction for the night, a slim, pretty, blond woman in her early thirties wearing a blue silk bustier and a leather collar, arrived with her backup musicians, and they began their sound checks. Griffen, Fox Lisa, and Jerome moved upstairs and found a table where they would have a good view of the small stage. The upper room was decorated with S&M equipment and a stripper pole.

For a Wednesday evening, the bar was full, a tribute to Bad Beth’s popularity. Smoke, mostly tobacco, began to create a blue haze under the spotlights. Griffen caught the attention of a female server setting down a margarita for the blond woman next to them.

“Can we have a refill?” he asked, holding up his empty Diet Coke glass. The server made a note of their choices and slipped away between the seats. The blonde beside them leaned over and held up her drink.

“You ought to try the margaritas. They mix them nice and strong.” She ran a finger around the edge of her décolletage. She wore a skintight tank top made of bright orange spandex that was cut almost all the way down to her nipples. Those showed prominently against the thin fabric.

“Thanks for the suggestion,” Griffen said nonchalantly. He turned back to Fox Lisa. “Come on over tomorrow evening. I just picked up a copy of
The Candidate
, with Robert Redford. It’s a great movie.”

“Yeah, I saw that one,” Jerome said. “It’s good. You’ll like it.”

“All right,” Fox Lisa said. “Maybe it’ll give me some pointers on this election.”

“I think you’re doing fine,” Griffen said. “Everyone was pretty impressed with your appearance onstage, and I know you’ve been working hard. How’s it going in St. Bernard Parish?”

Fox Lisa was glad of an opportunity to talk about her organization. “. . . and that was how I found Norbert St. Clair. He was an assistant public-relations manager for the last senatorial election. He likes Penny and likes the chance to work for an independent campaign. He’s taken most of the work out of my hands, which is great for me. We’ve got a lot of volunteers ringing doorbells and handing out flyers for Penny’s law-and-order initiative. I’m trying to get young voters involved, the ones for whom this will be the first election in which they get to vote.”

“I think this’ll be my second chance to vote,” Griffen said. “I know I voted when I was in college, but I didn’t really pay close attention to any of the candidates.”

“Well, this is my first time, and I’m pretty excited,” Fox Lisa said.

“I don’t know what number this is for me,” Jerome said. “I know that a couple of times it was tough to get into the polls. Some people didn’t make it easy for us.”

“That’s one of the reasons I volunteered for St. Bernard Parish,” Fox Lisa said. “I want to encourage young African-American voters to get involved and cast their ballots. Even if they don’t want to elect Penny, everyone has the right to have their voices heard.”

“Hear, hear,” Jerome said. He reached for the check as the cocktail waitress set down their drinks. “And in support of your efforts, I’ll get this.”

Fox Lisa smiled, dimples showing in her cheeks. “Thanks, Jerome.”

“Don’t forget, I want favors when your candidate’s in office.”

“Hey!” Fox Lisa protested, shoving him playfully.

“What?” Jerome said. “I’m a realist.”

The musicians finished their warm-up. Bad Beth, guitar in hand, stepped up to the microphone and began to sing. Griffen recognized the tune as a classic rock song by Bryan Adams, but the words were all Beth’s own. Her husky voice laid out the lyrics slyly, building up to the punch line at the end of the first verse, which she delivered with her finger stuck in her mouth.

The audience laughed appreciatively. It was prepared to enjoy itself. Most of the patrons sat with anticipatory grins, cheering especially naughty lyrics. Griffen could tell who was an old fan and who had never seen the show by the looks on their faces. A very young couple near the top of the stairs, probably visitors to the city, was openly shocked at first. The boy started to get into it almost right away, but the girl’s face glowed with embarrassment. She stood up and tried to persuade her boyfriend to leave. He pulled her down and put his arm around her. Her shoulders stayed stiff for a while, but the raunchy good humor of the crowd and the fun of the music eventually broke through her reserve. By the end of the first number, she applauded as loudly as the others.

“This is a new song,” Beth said. She took a drink from a tumbler balanced on a stool at her side and toasted someone sitting in the audience. “Inspired by a friend of mine. Hope you like it. If you don’t, too bad. Frigging eavesdroppers.”

She struck up a chord and launched into a rousing song. Griffen listened with growing admiration. He thought of himself as pretty open-minded, but he realized that there was a lot he didn’t know about other people’s sex lives that he probably didn’t
want
to know. The audience let out bellows of approval at every verse. By the second, they joined in the chorus. When the last guitar lick died away, Beth grinned at them. She and her band stopped to take a drink and retune.

The blonde next to Griffen leaned over and ran her fingers down the side of his neck.

“That sounded like fun,” she purred. “Want to go back to my place and try it?”

“Sorry, honey, he’s busy tonight,” Fox Lisa said, removing the blonde’s hand from Griffen’s shoulder between finger and thumb and dropping it like a wet rag. “I bet there’re some other guys here who would take you up on it.”

“Oh, you could share,” the other woman said.

“No, thanks,” Fox Lisa said. “I don’t think you’re my type.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“
I
don’t know . . . chlamydia?”

“Ooh,” Jerome said, looking as if he was in pain. “Score one for the foxy redhead.”

The blonde looked like she wanted to throw the remains of her drink at them. Instead, she got up and stalked out. Griffen was glad to see her go.

Beth returned to the microphone with her signature Irish bouzouki in hand, a stringed instrument like an overgrown mandolin. “This is a number from the Old Country, where the winters are frigid but the women aren’t.” She gave the laughing audience a broad wink and swept her fingernails down across the strings.

Griffen enjoyed Beth’s performances in both incarnations. His newfound sensitivity to dragons, gained during the Mardi Gras season, had told him that Beth had dragon blood. Maybe not much, but definitely some. He wondered if she knew it, and he wondered what the other patrons would do if they found out. Probably nothing different; New Orleanians were so easygoing that they might just start asking for dragon music. Whatever that was.

Fox Lisa’s purse started buzzing loudly enough to be heard over the music. She gave an apologetic look to the annoyed people nearby and edged out of the room.

While she was gone, the sozzled blonde made her way back in and sat down between Griffen and Jerome. Politely but firmly, Griffen helped her out of the chair and into her own. She drank the rest of her margarita and signaled for another one.

Fox Lisa returned a couple of minutes later. Griffen held her chair for her.

“I can’t stay,” she whispered. “That was Horsie. She said Penny wants me to come to headquarters to work on a speech with her.”

“At this hour?” Griffen asked.

The redhead made a face. “I told you, Penny doesn’t sleep. She’s always working. I wish I could keep up with her.”

“Are you going?”

Fox Lisa nodded eagerly. “She wants me to help her.”

“She has speechwriters. Professionals. Don’t they write everything for her?”

“I know, but Horsie said she wants my input. She said I had some ideas that she wants to include in her next rally. Isn’t that great?”

“I suppose so,” Griffen said. “Do you want me to go over with you?”

“No, thanks. Stay. I’ll take the bus.” Fox Lisa glanced at the stage. “I hate to leave in the middle of the show. She is so good.” The audience burst into applause. Fox Lisa stood up. “I’d better get out of here.”

Jerome stood up, too. “I’ll drive you over. I’ve got a date in about half an hour.”

“Thanks, Jer,” Fox Lisa said. She leaned over to kiss Griffen. “See you tomorrow. Too bad. I was looking forward to after the show.”

Griffen mustered a leer. It wasn’t too difficult, considering the subject matter of the show. “Come on by later. I’ll be up.”

“I’m counting on it,” Fox Lisa said.

She and Jerome slipped out of the room. Griffen felt reluctant to remain, but he didn’t feel like going back to his apartment just yet. It didn’t make sense to go home alone, when the bawdy good mood of the crowd was so infectious. He decided to take the blonde’s advice and indulge in a frozen margarita.

The drink’s combination of sweet and salty went unusually well with the lyrics of Bad Beth’s songs. Griffen leaned back to enjoy both. The woman next to him kept up her intake of tequila. She really got into the sing-alongs. Griffen was impressed that she knew all the words to “Show Me on the Doll,” a shockingly funny song that had made him blush the first time he heard it. At the end, he applauded hard, offering a few claps to his neighbor for her enthusiastic rendition.

“Thanks, handsome,” she said, leaning close. “Too bad your friends left.”

“Yeah, it is,” Griffen said. He leaned away, putting his drink between them. “They’ll both be sorry to have missed the end.”

“I love a good happy ending,” the blonde said. Her blue eyes were huge, outlined with royal blue liner. She toyed with his drink. She ran her forefinger around the rim, then ostentatiously sucked it off. Griffen turned away to listen to the show.

The blonde was not that easily put off. She shifted closer. Her hand tiptoed onto his thigh and into his lap. Griffen captured her wrist and shoved it away.

“Hey, I’m flattered, but I’m taken.”

“I hate to see you stay lonely.”

“I’m not lonely,” he said pointedly. “I’m enjoying the show.”

“You could enjoy it more with me, Griffen. We could have such a good time together if you’d just relax.” For a moment, her eyes changed in shape, lengthening and adding sea-blue highlights. It was Penny Dunbar.

Griffen started to stand up, but she grabbed him by the arm.

“Don’t be shocked,” she said. “I can’t go to shows like this as myself. So I don’t. That way I can have a good time, and no one will ever know.” She wrapped his arm in hers and rubbed her breasts against his chest. “Doesn’t the music give you some ideas? Hmm?”

“Plenty, but I’m saving them for Fox Lisa. You know we’re seeing each other.”