by Alex P. Berg
I didn’t see any women, though. That wasn’t a great sign.
Dawn made a beeline for the bar, and I stuck close to her. The bartender gave her a nod as she approached, and his eyes widened, probably as he got a good look at her. Guys almost never reacted that way to me, though come to think of it, there was a bit of the same ‘whoa’ look when I opened the door at the Nyte Patrol house to find Tony standing there. And he had asked me about having a boyfriend at the library…
The bartender recovered quickly. “What can I get you?”
“Do you have any lambanóg?” asked Dawn.
The bartender blinked. “Any what?”
“Didn’t think so. Shot of Bombay Sapphire, then. You?” She pointed a finger at me.
“Ah… no thanks.” I didn’t want to get busted for being underage, not to mention I was driving. “You drink shots of gin?”
“It’s a Filipino thing. Don’t ask.”
The bartender grabbed a glass and started searching for the right bottle.
I slid into a spot next to Dawn. “Can I ask what lambanóg is?”
“Coconut vodka,” said Dawn as the bartender set her shot before her. “Distilled from the sap of the unopened coconut flower. It’s divine and kicks like a donkey.”
“So you’re from the Philippines?”
Dawn tilted her shot glass in my direction before downing it.
“I’m guessing Dawn Blayde isn’t your real name.”
“You’ve guessed right. Trust me, it’s easier to pronounce than the real thing.”
“So what made you pick Blayde? ’Cause you like swords so much?”
“Actually, I stole it from the Saints Row franchise,” said Dawn. “You know? Nyte Blayde, vampire-hunter-turned-vampire? God, I love those games.”
“Sorry. I’m more into first-person shooters and RPGs, though I’ve played some of the Grand Theft Auto games.”
Dawn shrugged and slid a ten dollar bill toward the bartender. As he made change, she asked him, “Ever heard of a guy by the name Melondrious Funk?”
“Is he a basketball player?” The bartender came back with some change, but Dawn waved him off.
“No. Thought he might be a regular.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Wish I could. Thanks though.”
As the bartender moved toward the wrinkled smoking caballeros at the end of the bar, I heard a voice behind me. “Hey, girl.”
I figured one of the hipsters had decided to hit on Dawn, but when I turned, I found that the closest of the bunch, a guy with an undercut hairdo and a full beard, was looking right at me. “Uh. Hi.”
“I’m Dave,” he said. “What’s your name?”
I couldn’t fathom why Dave would hit on me when Dawn was beside me. Maybe he figured he could use me as a warmup, or he correctly figured Dawn was out of his league and decided to take a shot at me, instead.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not interested.”
“Aw, come on. Don’t be like that,” he said. “I’m just trying to get to know you.”
I’d heard the same speech word for word many times before. “I heard you, and I’m not interested.”
He took a seat next to me at the bar. “You’re being pretty rude, you know? Are you this harsh to every guy who introduces himself?”
I felt a bit of nervous fear creeping in. I did not want to deal with this right now—or ever, for that matter—and I was reminded why I never went out to clubs.
“Excuse me,” said Dawn. “You said your name was Dave?”
Dave perked up, perhaps thinking he’d misjudged his chances. “Yeah, that’s right. Dave. What’s your name?”
“Ever heard of Melondrious Funk?”
Dave smiled. “Is that a band? What do you like to listen to? ’Cause I’m really into art rock right now, but I’ve got a super open mind.”
Dawn smiled back, her teeth radiant and white. “Oh, you have an open mind, do you? Well come over here, then. I’ve got an idea for something fun.”
Dave couldn’t believe his luck. “Yeah, girl, you bet.”
I wanted to hurl. I mean, Larry said Dawn was a nymphomaniac, but was she really about to hook up with Creepers McGee? Here? Now? Barf city.
“So here’s what I was thinking,” said Dawn, her voice low and sensual as Dave closed in. “I was thinking, if you want, that we could slip out back, and if you’re up for it, I could maybe slip my hand somewhere fun—”
Dave nodded. “Uh, yeah. Okay.”
“—and then I could rip your fucking balls off. Or you could leave us the hell alone like my friend asked you to. How’s about that?”
Dave scowled, hurled a particularly nasty insult at us, and stormed off back to his buddies. I looked at Dawn. Despite the darkness, I saw her in a whole new light.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t sweat it. That guy was ginormous douche.”
I laughed, though it felt forced. “You know, for a second there, I thought you were into him.”
“Please. I love sex, but I’ve already got an asshole. One is enough.”
The back door opened. Larry stood in the doorway, some of the light from the outdoor patio lights flooding in. He waved at us. “Hey. We got Melondrious. Found him trying to sneak off in the shadows.”
Dawn and I followed Larry to the patio, where we found Tank holding onto a midget by his jacket collar. The guy was barely taller than Darragh, though he put a much greater emphasis on hygiene. He wore a salmon-colored blazer, dark jeans, and two-tone suede shoes, and his hair had been coiffed into a perfect pompadour. He didn’t look particularly happy about being restrained by Tank.
“Let go of me, you damned oaf,” he said.
“Another leprechaun?” I said. “Is there a secret Irish contingent in this city that I don’t know about?”
“Leprechaun?” said Melondrious. “Surely you jest. Do I look like a blasted leprechaun?”
I looked to Larry for help. “Uh…”
“He’s a fairy,” said Larry.
“What does his sexual preference have to do with anything?”
Melondrious laughed, despite his situation. “No, you twit. He’s speaking to my status as one of the pure blooded fae children of the Erzorwyn clan, not my sexual proclivities, accurate though the assessment might be.”
I’d taken a wild guess based on the color of his jacket. “Hey, doesn’t bother me any. Practically half my softball team is gay.”
Melondrious struggled against Tank’s grip. “Would you kindly unhand me, you cad? None of you ruffians have even informed me what this is about. I have my inalienable rights, you know, not to mention you’re wrinkling my jacket.”
“Relax, Melondrious,” said Larry. “We’re here to talk business. Your business, specifically.”
“I’m not discussing anything until I know who you are and what you intend of me, you ne’er-do-wells.”
Because of Melondrious’s eye-catching blazer, I hadn’t inspected the rest of the patio, but now I noticed a biker from a group of five stand and adjust his leather jacket. He was staring right at us.
“Hey, guys,” I said. “Maybe we should move this conversation somewhere more private?”
Larry followed my gaze. “Yeah. Good thinking. You’re coming with us, Melondrious. To the Nytemobile!”
“Oh, hell no,” I said. “You do not get to name my Suburban.”
“Come on,” said Larry. “It sounds so snappy. Don’t tell me you prefer The Patrol Car. That sounds like we’re with the police.”
Another one of the bikers stood, and I felt a bead of cold sweat form at the back of my neck. “Look, let’s just get out of here, okay? We’ll figure it out later.”
9
We piled into my truck, Larry in the passenger seat, same as before, and Dawn and Tank in the back. Tank crammed Melondrious between him and Dawn, his fist still gripping the fairy’s jacket. I stuffed my keys in the ignition, but I didn’t turn the engine over. The bikers h
ad followed us around the edge of the bar, but they’d stopped at the street. After giving us the evil eye, they’d popped back into the building. Nonetheless, I didn’t think we should test our luck by sticking around.
“Where to?” I asked Larry.
“Beats me.” He turned to face the tiny, well-dressed fop. “So, Melondrious. Your name’s been making the rounds. Care to guess why?”
“I can only assume the legend of my sexual prowess has reached peak saturation.”
“Oh, cut the crap,” said Larry. “If that were even remotely true, Dawn would’ve tracked you down months ago and put the rumor to the test.”
“As if I’d be interested in her offerings.” Melondrious snorted. “Well. Come now. You’re the ones who’ve accosted me. Out with it. Tell me what it is you want.”
“The drugs, Melondrious,” said Larry. “We’re here about the drugs.”
The fairy sighed. “Well, why didn’t you say so, you buffoon? What is it you desire, then? The white cross? Big flakes? Black rock? Dancing shoes?”
“Not the traditional narcotics,” said Larry. “We need to know about the fae stuff. The supernatural crank.”
“Ah.” Melondrious sniffed. “Of course you do. That one’s in high demand of late. Unfortunately, I’ve run into some supply concerns, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you with your request. So if you don’t mind…” He flicked his hand at the door.
“We’re not here to buy, you idiot,” said Dawn. “We’re here to… actually, what are we supposed to do with him, Larry?”
Larry shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me. Frank told me to locate him. I didn’t actually think he’d be here. I guess we should deliver him to Connors.”
“Restrain yourselves,” said Melondrious. “I don’t know any Connors, and I certainly don’t want to be delivered to him, unless he’s handsome and hung like a horse, of course. Hmm! I made a rhyme.” He twittered with sudden glee.
“He’s not a playboy,” said Larry. “He’s the head of the APD’s paranormal crimes division.”
“That’s a thing?” I asked.
“Well, I certainly don’t want to meet him then,” said Melondrious. “He sounds dreadful.”
As everyone argued, two bikers exited the bar and hopped on their choppers. I heard a rumble, not from the bikes in front but from around back. By the roar, it must’ve been more than two.
“You know what? I’m just gonna drive.” I started the engine and took off, taking a right followed by another quick right, heading toward what I hoped was downtown. I checked the rear view mirror as I drove. I’d put about a block and a half of East 7th behind me and had just started to feel good when I heard another rumble and spotted a herd of bikes turning onto the boulevard from the direction of St. Marque’s.
“Guys,” I said, interrupting the conversation about what to do with Funk. “I don’t want to startle anyone, but those bikers from the bar are following us.”
Melondrious straightened and peered out the back. “Damn it all! You, in front at the wheel. I don’t think I caught your name, but you might want to speed it up a tad.”
“Oh, great,” said Larry. “Just what we needed. Are these the guys you’ve been working with? Your distributors? Now they’re angry because they think we’ve kidnapped their cook?”
“Well, to be fair, you have abducted me, but no, you don’t have it quite right.”
I turned onto a side street and gunned it, hoping to lose the bikers. “Go on,” said Larry.
“Well, you know how this large gentleman to my side snagged me as I was trying to sneak out of Saint Marque’s? Well, I didn’t have any idea who you were at the time, so I wouldn’t have any reason to slink away from you, would I?”
“The bikers are after you?” said Larry. “What did you do?”
“It’s more what I didn’t do. I told you, I’ve had supply issues with my product.”
“How much do you owe them?” asked Dawn.
“Thirty kilos, give or take.”
Larry swore. “Well, this keeps getting better. Tank, the next time I see Barry Mealer remind me to kick his ass.”
Tank shot Larry a thumbs up.
Adrenaline seeped into my body. My fingertips tingled, and I was having a hard time focusing. Someone laid on their horn as I absentmindedly blasted through a red light.
“Christ,” I said. “Larry, what do you want me to do?”
“Quick, turn here.” He pointed at a darkened park. I saw the entrance and yanked on the wheel, the back of the Suburban fishtailing as I pulled onto the drive.
I regretted it almost immediately. “Crap. This is a one lane road.”
Larry ignored me. “You know, Melondrious, when Connors called me to locate you, I wasn’t into it. But now? I’m going to enjoy handing you over.”
“There’s no need to be rash,” said the fairy. “We can cut a deal. How about instead of turning me over to the constabulary, I provide you sole ownership of a side business? I may be short on Mystical Mellow, but I have plenty of supply of other narcotics.”
“Mystical Mellow?” said Dawn. “That’s the name of your fae crank?”
“Crap,” I repeated, my eyes on the road. “This isn’t a park. It’s a cemetery. And I’m pretty sure it’s fenced in. Why did you tell me to pull in here, Larry?”
“How the hell should I know?” he said. “I told you, Bill’s the navigator. Just park, cut the lights, and wait a few minutes before backing out. I’m pretty sure we lost them.”
I pulled to the side as the others argued, cutting the lights as Larry suggested. I hadn’t heard the roar of the choppers in a minute or two, so maybe the wizard was right and we’d lost them. Given how the night had progressed, I figured at some point the law of averages would kick in and normality would once again reign supreme. While the engine idled, I pulled my phone to check where the hell we were. Turns out I’d pulled into the Texas State Cemetery, resting place of city namesake Stephen F. Austin, which had thirty-one reviews with a four and a half star rating on Yelp. Seriously? Who reviews a cemetery?
A dozen high beams flared to life, cutting through the back windows of the Suburban and drenching us in light. I might’ve been blinded if they’d hit us straight on. As it was, I had to shade my eyes to see what was going on.
A gruff voice yelled across the expanse. “Out of the car, now!”
I squinted, making out the shape of one of the bikers from the bar standing next to his hog, its high beams on full blast.
“Crap, crap, crap,” I said. “How’d they find us? Better yet, how’d they creep up on us?”
“Who knows,” said Larry. “Could have something to do with that bruja Barry mentioned. Or maybe they drove real slow and quiet-like.”
The biker yelled again. “Give us the fairy and maybe we’ll be nice to the rest of ya’ll. I ain’t gonna ask twice.”
“Okay, new offer,” said Melondrious. “You turn me over to this Connors fellow after all. You’re beloved by the police for performing your civic duty, I don’t get tortured by angry bikers, everyone wins.”
“Or we shove him out the window and get the hell out of here,” I offered.
Larry rubbed his chin scruff. “Connors would want him… And that’s a friendship worth cultivating. I can’t tell you how many jams he’s gotten us out of.”
A sharp crack rent the air. My side mirror exploded as a bullet tore through it. I screamed.
The gruff voice followed. “That’s the only warning you’re getting. Next one I aim for the head.”
Given that I was only a junior partner, I probably shouldn’t have been the one making big decisions. Then again, I was the one behind the wheel, I was the one who presumably was going to get shot, and more importantly, I was scared out of my god-damned mind! So instead of asking for permission or waiting to see what happened, I squeezed the steering wheel with vice-like force and slammed my foot on the accelerator.
10
The tires screeched and the S
uburban lurched forward. The bikers yelled as gravel sprayed from the back tires, ricocheting off their polished hogs. My body jerked as I hit the cemetery's roadside ditch, then again as the truck roared into the grass. Another couple gunshots tore through the air. I didn’t hear them ping off the car’s body, but I couldn’t hear much of anything over the sound of blood rushing through my ears.
I did hear the resounding crack of metal on stone as I rammed into the first gravestone, however. I screamed as chunks of granite bounced off the hood and fell into the darkness, yet I refused to take my foot off the gas. The Suburban jostled and tilted, the wheel fighting me as a tire careened off another tombstone. Melondrious, who wasn’t buckled, went flying, slamming into the roof of the truck before bouncing off the center console and back onto the bench seat. Momentum smushed everyone to the right as I swerved around a sudden tree, the tires skidding and sliding.
“Christ almighty, girl! Seat belts!” Larry jammed his hand against the dash and his boot against the footwell to wedge himself in place. “A little warning would’ve been nice!”
Somewhere behind us, the sound of motorcycles backfiring followed along my path of destruction. My nails gouged the steering wheel from the force of my grip, and the vehicle accelerated as we hit a downslope. “How’s this for a warning? Do something about those bikers before I kill us all!”
I screamed again as light from the street illuminated a three foot drop in front of us. I didn’t have time to react. The Suburban dropped. I slammed against my seat belt. My head whipped forward. Melondrious went flying again, grunting as he smashed into the seat. Based on the spike of pain in my forehead, I must’ve hit my noggin on the wheel. The Suburban didn’t slow, then or when we plowed through the surrounding fencing with a violent shriek of tearing metal. I skidded across the street, horns from cross traffic blaring as cars screeched to a halt in the opposite directions. I’d lost my phone in the commotion and had no idea where I was going, so I hooked the first right I could and stomped on the gas again, hoping to put some miles between us and the bikers.
