Hollywood Dead. Richard Kadrey
down like New Year’s confetti. He stumbles back and slams into the wall, stays there like a butterfly pinned to a board.
I hold up my hands and say, “Before you reach for the gun under the counter, I’m just here to see how you’re doing.”
He points at me and doesn’t say anything. Finally, he sputters, “Fuck you.”
I approach him slowly because I really don’t want to get shot tonight.
“Everything’s fine, man. Calm down.”
He relaxes a little and put his hands to his head.
“Fuck you, man. Why won’t you stay dead?”
“Nice to see you too, Kas.”
He leans heavily on the front counter and stares at me.
“Shit. It really is you.”
“It really is.”
“And you’re not here to kill me?”
“When I crawled out of Hell last time I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be back. This time I am.”
He stares a little more.
“How did you do it?”
“Get back?”
I make it to the counter and offer him a cigarette. He takes it with trembling fingers. I light it for him and look the store over.
“I didn’t do it,” I tell him. “Truth is, I didn’t know if I’d ever make it back. It was some other people who brought me back.”
He frowns.
“I don’t mean to sound harsh, but why? It’s been a year, man. Things …”
“Things have changed. You’ve all moved on. I get it and I’m not going to barge back in and expect you to throw me a party. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you assholes. I need to know how things are.”
He puffs his cigarette.
“You mean how Candy is.”
“That’s a good place to start.”
“How she is is there’s a big box of your shit in the closet where you used to lock me up. No one goes in there. No one looks at it. You’ve been cleared out and put away. Get it?”
I light my own cigarette.
“I take it that means Alessa has moved into our place upstairs.”
“Their place,” he says. “Not yours. Theirs. I told you. Things have changed.”
There it is. Things have changed. I’m not surprised, but it’s still a kick in the teeth.
“Are they happy?”
“Like a basket of kittens. And it gets a little aggravating sometimes for those of us, you know.”
“Alone?”
“Yeah.”
“What ever happened to Fairuza?”
Fairuza is a Lurker, a Ludere. Blue skinned and very sweet. She and Kasabian were an item last time I saw them.
He taps some ash on the counter.
“She’s long gone. Remember that night Allegra killed the French chick who poisoned Vidocq?”
“I ditched the body, so yeah.”
He shakes his head.
“She never got over it. Had a nervous breakdown and everything. Doesn’t want to have anything to do with any of us.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it. It’s the story of my life.”
“Speaking of Vidocq, I didn’t see him when the others left. How is he?”
He looks at me.
“You’ve been spying on us? There’s a word for that: stalker.”
“That’s why I came in tonight. I don’t want to be that person.”
“Thanks for making me your shrink.”
“So, where is Vidocq?”
He shrugs.
“Don’t know. I haven’t seen him for a while. Allegra dumped him after the thing with the French chick.”
“He was kind of an idiot, chasing after a girl he hadn’t seen in two hundred years.”
“I’m not sure you’re in a position to judge, window peeper.”
“How’s Brigitte? Working?”
He reaches back and pulls a Blu-ray box set off the wall.
“She’s doing fine. She’s the star of a big cable series. Plays an international spy and hit woman. But she’s a good guy, you know? Anyway, she spends a lot of time kicking the shit out of everybody in six-inch heels.”
I turn over the box set. Queen Bullet, it says in shiny red letters. The back is mostly stills of her snapping necks and shooting bad guys, dressed in miniskirts and evening gowns. She looks like she’s having a ball. Good for her.
I slide the set back to him.
“And how’s the store? Still in business, I see.”
Kasabian sighs.
“It’s doing good. Alessa had the idea to sponsor movie nights every month and Candy lets bands play here sometimes. We put the floor shelves on wheels so we can push them out of the way.”
“That really is good thinking. Are you still getting those special movies?”
“All the time.”
A witch friend used to use her hoodoo to find us movies in other realities that were never made in this one. Then she’d snag us a copy and we’d rent them for a fortune.
Kasabian hands me another disc.
On the front is a drawing of a burning giraffe holding a butterfly net and wearing a cowboy hat. I hold it under the light to make sure I’m seeing it right.
“What the fuck is this?”
“Giraffes on Horseback Saddles,” he says. “Screenplay by Salvador Dalí and starring the Marx Brothers.”
“This is what’s keeping the lights on?”
He takes the disc back and hands me another.
“Right, I forgot you have no sense of humor. This is more the stuff that’s keeping us going.”
There’s a horned red guy smoking a cigar on the front. The cover says, Hellboy 3, directed by Guillermo del Toro.
I hand it back to him.
“That makes more sense. I’m glad you didn’t all lose your minds while I was gone.”
He turns around and gives me a look.
“Don’t worry about us,” he says. “We’re doing fine and making more money than ever.”
“Don’t stab me in the heart so quick. I’m not ready to die again.”
“Okay. But sometimes you have a high fucking opinion of yourself. I mean, if you came back to save us, we don’t need it.”
“Understood.”
I look around the store, feeling like it was a bad idea coming here. The place looks great. Clean. New posters on the wall. And unless Kasabian was lying, they’re making money, which we never did when I was here. It makes me wonder if I was the thing holding the store back. Candy and Kasabian, too. Maybe it’s more than them getting over me. Maybe it’s that I was the problem in the first place. If that’s