Symphony of Blood, A Hank Mondale Supernatural Case (27 page)

“I guess we’ll get the liquor first. It’s up that way.” She pointed north as we hit Jerome Avenue. I could see the blinking lights from the store window.

“Open late.” I looked at my watch: just past one thirty.

“Yeah. Twenty-four hours. Same as the bodega.”

We walked up to the store, and a man stood behind thick, bulletproof glass. He wore a turban on his head much like Mr. Singh at the twenty-four-hour bodega.

I took a small wad of bills from my pocket and stepped in front of her. “I got this,” I said. Then to the man I said, “Let me get a bottle of Jim Beam and one of
Cuervo
.”

“Pint bottle?” he asked.

“Yeah. That’d be fine.” I asked Angie, “You want anything?”

“Nah. That’s good,” she replied.

The man turned and pulled the bottles from a shelf to his left. Then put them in a bag and said, “Thirty-four fifty.”

I put two twenties in a spinning drawer and closed my side. He opened his and spun it around. He counted out my change and put it, along with the two bottles into the drawer, then spun it towards me.

“Thanks,” I said with a nod.

“Good night.”

She started south down Jerome and I followed. Angie quickly crossed the street, heading towards the McDonald’s on the west side of the avenue. As we got up to the McDonald’s, I said, “You want anything inside?”

“Nah. But if you’re going, do you mind getting
Pito
a Big Mac?”

“Not at all. I’ll run in and meet you back here when you’re finished at the bodega.”

“Okay. Here, take some money.”

She tried to hand me a twenty but I waved her off and walked towards the front door to the McDonald’s. She continued south to the bodega. Truth was, I didn’t want McDonald’s. I hated the crap. But I was pretty sure Mr. Singh was working the night shift, and I didn’t want him to see me. We needed to keep out of sight, at least for the night. Come morning, I’d figure out a plan. But for the time being, I just wanted to stay below the radar.

After picking up the stuff, we headed back towards Angie’s building, bags full of McDonald’s, booze and beers in tow. We made our way up the four-story walkup and she unlocked the door.

The lights were off, and the apartment was dark other than gray light emanating from the television. It was silent other than the thumping bass from a stereo playing in the next apartment; the pictures that hung from the wall shook in rhythm. I followed Angie into the living room.
Pito
had barely moved; his ass was still planted into the couch but now his feet were extended up and over the arm of the couch, dangling on the far side.

“
Pito
,” she whispered.

He shook and sat halfway up. “
Yo
! Those burgers smell good. Let me get one of those.”

I handed him the bag and asked, “Where’s Mackenzie?”

He took it from me greedily and said, “You need to chill, bro. Have a shot or some shit, man. You are too hyper.”

As obnoxious as he was,
Pito
was right; I needed to take the edge off. I put the brown bag down and took the bottle of Jim Beam from it. I cracked the cap and took a nice sized swig.

“Now you’re talking,” he said as he stuffed a French fry in his mouth. Then, while chewing he continued, “Suck that juice down and maybe you’ll finally relax.”

I gulped down the bourbon and said, “I’m plenty relaxed. Now, where is Mackenzie?”

He laughed and pointed towards the vibrating wall. “She’s in the other room.” Then in a singing tone,
Pito
said, “She’s been waiting for you. Go get her.” I realized that the thundering bass wasn’t coming from the next apartment; it was coming from the next room.

I took another swig, just a small one, then walked around the corner. There was a closed door and a hint of light flickering between the doorjamb. I knocked at the door. There was no answer. I knocked again, this time harder and louder. Still no answer. I looked back around the corner and saw Angie unbuttoning her blouse and walking towards
Pito
. He tossed his burger at the coffee table, showing no regard for the fact that it missed. I caught a quick glimpse of the side of Angie’s right breast. It looked just as good as I thought it would—full and round with really nice curves.

I knocked again then pushed open the door slowly. “Mackenzie?”

The flickering light was sudden, pulsating, almost to the point of blinding me. A wall of sound collided with my eardrums like a tin trashcan landing on pavement after a four-story fall. A disco ball hung from the ceiling, twirling at a rapid pace that seemed to defy gravity and physics at once. Red, blue and yellow lights covered the far wall and were programmed to vary along with the beat. Multicolored Christmas lights ran a straight line around all four corners of the ceiling and a blue lava lamp bubbled brightly, standing on the far side of the room.

The floors were hardwood. Maybe it was the lighting, but they appeared to be freshly shined. I figured the room was supposed to be the dining room, but it had been walled off from the living room and there was no table. It was wide open like a dance floor.

Mackenzie stood in the middle of the floor, her back to me. She was moving to the beat in a bizarre fashion, not like any dancing I’d seen before. I wouldn’t say she was out of step to the music, if you could even call it music. The noise wasn’t easy to be in step with. The synthesized bass drum banged out an unsteady syncopated rhythm and her body seemed to move against the beat instead of with it. The song wasn’t a disco tune, although it was peppy and grooved hard. It was some weird, industrial metal song. Just listening and watching her silhouette move made me feel really old.

Her arms moved up then came together like she was a genie, and her hips shook like a belly dancer. She slowly backpedaled towards me, and I realized for the first time, she wasn’t wearing pink. I could see nothing but the strap of a black bra running along her back and matching panties. There was a black dragon tattooed above the small of her back. The music was grating, but her movements were so sweet, I found myself less and less irritated with each half-step she took backwards towards me.

I took another swig from the bottle of Beam. She was young enough to be my daughter, give or take a few years maybe.

But she wasn’t
my
daughter. Shit, I don’t even have a daughter.

Her ass swung clockwise, then twisted counterclockwise, then twirled back clockwise again. She clasped her hands together out in front of her body as if in prayer, then moved them above her shoulder. Mackenzie separated her hands and held her arms up towards the sky. Her body movements were just as choppy and uneven as the music. Her arms fluttered sideways like a scarf blowing in a breeze. With the lights flickering so wildly, I had a hard time keeping focused. It was dizzying. Alluring. Enticing. Hypnotizing.

A voice in my head was telling me to keep it together. This was time for business, not pleasure. But I was never a guy extolled for his willpower. Make no mistake about it, her little ass looked good.

I was about to take another chug from the bottle, when I realized that would probably tip my teetering willpower in the wrong direction. So instead, I put the bottle down and walked across the room towards the strobe light. As I passed her, I tried hard not to look. My peripheral vision caught enough of her chest to see how pert her breast were. They weren’t full and booming like Angie’s. Smaller and perkier. They were pretty damn nice, if only I had the time to appreciate their beauty. I thought I saw another small tattoo just below her belly button, but I avoided looking at it.

The boxed strobe light was posted on a stand, and I reached around it and found the switch; I shut it off. Spots and spirals spun on my eyelids as I blinked, then refocused on the now dimly lit room. The stereo was also mounted next to the wall, and I lowered the volume considerably, but didn’t shut the music off.

Mackenzie didn’t stop dancing, but her pace slowed. Instead of whirling around and ‘round, she was gently swaying side to side, now facing me and coming towards me. Her face had a crooked expression. Her eyes were glassy and halfway shut.

In her cutesy voice, she said, “Why’d you turn that down, Hank?”

“It was too loud.”

“I was listening to it.”

I turned the volume up, slightly.

“Come on. I was enjoying it. You can do better than that.”

“I’m old. My eardrums can’t take it.”

She continued to amble over towards me, but not in a straight line. She was moving in half steps, one or two to each side, then one forward. Then one or two side to side, then one forward. She kept this on for half a song as I stood still, pretending not to notice her.

“Hank,” she said as she finally invaded my personal space. She put her arms on my shoulders and let them fall flat, palms facing up, her forearms pressing me to the wall that I couldn’t help leaning against.

“Yeah?” I was desperately feigning disinterest, looking up at the Christmas lights. Her hair brushed my chin and her perfume filled my nostrils as she turned her head. Our cheeks were almost touching.

She wiggled closer, putting her bare feet between my legs. She put her hand on my thigh and stroked it. Then, she took a hold of my chin and turned my face towards hers.

“Don’t you like me?” she asked.

I shook her off, not hard, but she didn’t resist and let go of my chin.

“Hank, why don’t you like me?”

I took a deep breath and summoned up all the inner strength I had inside of me. The side of her neck looked smooth. I couldn’t help but look down, just once. Her waist was maybe twenty-four inches, her legs weren’t too long, but they were firm and well built. Her belly was flat, and it was a butterfly, the tattoo that was just below and slightly to the left of her bellybutton. Her panties weren’t thong, but they were the next size up; they didn’t cover much, and they fit perfectly. I could see the outlines of everything that was underneath.

“Ahem.” I coughed, a blatantly fake cough, then wiggled out from behind the wall. “I like you, Mackenzie. But I’m a professional, and I’m working. Your father is my client. Remember?”

“Oh, fine. You are such a spoil sport.”

“Speaking of your father, have you spoken to him?”

“No, I’ve called and called and it goes straight to voicemail.” She paused, pouting her lips. Then she leaned into me again. “I’m scared, Hank. I’m scared something horrible has happened to my father.” She rubbed her face into my chest and nuzzled her head below my chin.

“It will be okay.” I began to stroke her hair, trying to comfort her, but doing a shitty job of it. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t know what else to say.

“What are we going to do?” She looked up at me. “Symphony may have killed my father. He’ll come for us next.”

“
Shhh
. Just relax.”

“He’ll come for us next, Hank. We aren’t safe anywhere.”

“
Shhh
. Let’s get some rest. In the morning we’ll come up with a plan. We should be safe here for tonight.” I wasn’t sure of that either. I wasn’t sure of much. Other than the fact that I was tired and needed to think. I didn’t think the creature could travel sixty miles in one night, but I couldn’t be sure. “Let’s just get some rest.”

“Okay,” she said in a whiney tone. Then, in a firmer manner, she said, “There’s a comfy bed in the spare bedroom, but if you
ain’t
fucking me, then you
ain’t
sharing it with me.”

My eyes widened, but I didn’t reply.

“There’s a shitty old cot in the closet, you can set it up in here.”

I nodded. She walked out of the room. I followed her into the hallway.

She pointed to a door. “It’s in there. ‘night, Hank.”

“Goodnight.”

I opened the closet door, and sure enough, a shitty cot stood folded in half amongst stacks of old clothes and coats. I tossed the coats aside, slid out the cot and wheeled it towards the other room. There were faint noises coming from the living room but I wasn’t about to look over. I walked into my room and closed the door behind me.

In spite of being tired and drained, I spent most of the night with my arms folded and clasped behind my head, staring up at the Christmas lights that lined the ceiling. With all the other lights turned off, the multicolored bulbs on the ceiling kept the room just bright enough to keep my bearings. It took
awhile
, hours I guessed, without actually checking a clock, but finally, I drifted off to sleep.

* *

Light hit my eyes from the door opening in the windowless room. My back was barking like a little terrier with a big attitude. It wasn’t until Angie walked halfway into the room, wearing nothing but an oversized Miami Dolphins jersey, that I remembered where I was. I sat up and arched my back, then groaned.

“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry about the cot. It’s horrible.”

With my dirty undershirt and boxer shorts that I’d had on for quite a while, I suddenly felt shy around her, and pulled the thin, green blanket up to my chest.

She laughed. “It’s okay. I’ve seen men in t-shirts before.”