[5] I stand up, dust myself off, and stare down Pearly. "Apologize."
Buttons his lips, crosses his arms. I ball my fists, his eyes dart down then he mutters through gritted teeth an apology. I walk to the door and Clown opens it for me. Outside, a line of cops and detectives back away. I give him a smile.
"As an apology," I say. "A pistol would go down well."
Clown hands me a pistol, dark and heavy in my hands. 7 rounds: I'm no shooter, so I better make them count.
"You know," I say, Clown's eyes begging me to stop. "A radio would be nice too. If I see trouble, it's a direct line--" He's already handed it to me. Pearly's ready to burst a vein. I tuck the equipment into my dress pocket and walk out of the police station. Everyone parts when I meet them in the hallway.
Soon I'm out the door, onto the main street. Cars pass, headlights bright in the dark, as I hear the music pounding from the clubs up the avenue. The teens won't be prowling tonight, they'll be watching the roads or scoping out the clubs. I need somewhere to sleep. I think about heading down to the beach, lying on a bench. If you get up before sunrise, no-one asks any questions.
A beat-up sedan screeches down the street, burning rubber as it pulls up outside the police station. A hubcap rolls away as she opens the door. When she sees the bruises, she cries and runs over to me, holding my face.
"Who did this?" she says. "Oh God, what did they do?"
"It's doesn't hurt," I say. "That's what counts."
Her eyes harden, flinty. "My baby doesn't talk like that," she says. I remember how creepy she gets, in these moments of lucidity. Then she hugs me and says "Let's just go home, I have a place."
A. Go with her. I needed to sleep anyway.
B. Tell her to hop it. She's a volatile element. Besides, she's makes me... nervous.
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Topic: Seaside Ghost [SG] (Read 5328 times)