your point of view—I’d rescued Beauty before she managed to drown in the congealed frog juice. My soon-to-be father-in-law, the king, seemed properly appreciative, in that he stuck me with the dinner bill.
How I couldn’t wait to say “I do”!
My ringing phone interrupted my dire musing. I glanced at my watch. 10:20 P.M. Then I checked the caller ID on my p-Phone. Restricted. I debated not answering, but in the end, cat-murdering curiosity won out, and I said hello.
“Jean-Michel,” the voice on the other end huffed. “I’m glad I caught you.”
“Georgie?” I said. “Why are you so out of breath? Are you taking a late-night jog?” Weird, since it was after midnight in New Never City, where Georgie lived, but even odder, Georgie’s Jell-O like form wasn’t built for running of any kind, let alone the exercise variety.
“You could say that,” Georgie said through the static. In the background footsteps pounded hard, as if Georgie was being chased by a pack of boys. “Anyway,” Georgie yelled over the noise, “I probably won’t be around for . . . a while. I have some . . . business to take care of . . .”—he panted—“ but I wanted to get in touch regarding that certain matter Karl e-mailed me about this afternoon.”
Right. Lollie Bliss. “And?”
“Keep your distance.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
“She’s bad news.” As Georgie finished his statement, shouts erupted through the phone line. The pounding of feet grew louder, as did a string of swear words from Georgie’s mouth.
“Georgie?” I called. “You still there?”
A few seconds later he returned to the line. “Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t have much time,” he huffed out, “but this can’t wait.”
“All right,” I said slowly.
“Lollie Bliss doesn’t exist.”
I shook my head, stopping when I realized Georgie couldn’t see me through the phone. “Not true. I met her. This afternoon, in fact. Karl saw her too.”
Georgie giggled, which quickly turned into a wheezing cough. “I meant she doesn’t exist in the figurative sense.”
“Oh.”
“There’s no record of Lollie Bliss until two years ago, when she suddenly appeared in Cin City.”
Hell, if one did a search for Jean-Michel La Grenouille they’d find much the same. Until the age of eight, I hadn’t officially existed, not in the human sense. Since then I’d sure made up for it. A bunch. “That doesn’t necessarily make her bad news.”
“Hang on,” Georgie said as the rattle of chain link echoed through the line. A loud rip followed. “Fudge.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Tore my favorite pants on a fence post.” Georgie let out a sigh. “Damn girls. They never just let things go. I mean, you kiss one little . . .”
“Um . . . Georgie? Can we get back to my problem now?”
“Right.” Georgie sucked in a deep breath. “So, this Lollie chick. Is she hot?”
I stopped, considering Ms. Bliss. “Hot” wasn’t quite a strong enough word to describe the woman. “Smoking hot” came closer, but still didn’t do her plump lips and the smart slant of her mouth justice. “She’s all right,” I answered quietly, unwilling to share anything about Ms. Bliss with a pervert like Georgie. The guy had a collection of pornography as high as the top of old spaghetti, even with the mountain of cheese.
“That’s what I thought.” He exhaled again, his voice wheezy and weak. “Just be careful. She runs with a bad crowd.”
“How bad?”
“Bad enough that the cops have her under surveillance.”
“Really?” I bit my lip. “For what?”
“Murder for hire.”
I swallowed hard. “Lollie’s a hit man . . . I mean, woman?”
“No. No. Not her.” Georgie paused. “From what I heard, her boyfriend’s the killer. The cops think he’s murdered at least seven people.”
Well, that answered that question. Lollie had lied to me in order to protect her lover. A noble gesture, one I could even appreciate
How I couldn’t wait to say “I do”!
My ringing phone interrupted my dire musing. I glanced at my watch. 10:20 P.M. Then I checked the caller ID on my p-Phone. Restricted. I debated not answering, but in the end, cat-murdering curiosity won out, and I said hello.
“Jean-Michel,” the voice on the other end huffed. “I’m glad I caught you.”
“Georgie?” I said. “Why are you so out of breath? Are you taking a late-night jog?” Weird, since it was after midnight in New Never City, where Georgie lived, but even odder, Georgie’s Jell-O like form wasn’t built for running of any kind, let alone the exercise variety.
“You could say that,” Georgie said through the static. In the background footsteps pounded hard, as if Georgie was being chased by a pack of boys. “Anyway,” Georgie yelled over the noise, “I probably won’t be around for . . . a while. I have some . . . business to take care of . . .”—he panted—“ but I wanted to get in touch regarding that certain matter Karl e-mailed me about this afternoon.”
Right. Lollie Bliss. “And?”
“Keep your distance.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
“She’s bad news.” As Georgie finished his statement, shouts erupted through the phone line. The pounding of feet grew louder, as did a string of swear words from Georgie’s mouth.
“Georgie?” I called. “You still there?”
A few seconds later he returned to the line. “Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t have much time,” he huffed out, “but this can’t wait.”
“All right,” I said slowly.
“Lollie Bliss doesn’t exist.”
I shook my head, stopping when I realized Georgie couldn’t see me through the phone. “Not true. I met her. This afternoon, in fact. Karl saw her too.”
Georgie giggled, which quickly turned into a wheezing cough. “I meant she doesn’t exist in the figurative sense.”
“Oh.”
“There’s no record of Lollie Bliss until two years ago, when she suddenly appeared in Cin City.”
Hell, if one did a search for Jean-Michel La Grenouille they’d find much the same. Until the age of eight, I hadn’t officially existed, not in the human sense. Since then I’d sure made up for it. A bunch. “That doesn’t necessarily make her bad news.”
“Hang on,” Georgie said as the rattle of chain link echoed through the line. A loud rip followed. “Fudge.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Tore my favorite pants on a fence post.” Georgie let out a sigh. “Damn girls. They never just let things go. I mean, you kiss one little . . .”
“Um . . . Georgie? Can we get back to my problem now?”
“Right.” Georgie sucked in a deep breath. “So, this Lollie chick. Is she hot?”
I stopped, considering Ms. Bliss. “Hot” wasn’t quite a strong enough word to describe the woman. “Smoking hot” came closer, but still didn’t do her plump lips and the smart slant of her mouth justice. “She’s all right,” I answered quietly, unwilling to share anything about Ms. Bliss with a pervert like Georgie. The guy had a collection of pornography as high as the top of old spaghetti, even with the mountain of cheese.
“That’s what I thought.” He exhaled again, his voice wheezy and weak. “Just be careful. She runs with a bad crowd.”
“How bad?”
“Bad enough that the cops have her under surveillance.”
“Really?” I bit my lip. “For what?”
“Murder for hire.”
I swallowed hard. “Lollie’s a hit man . . . I mean, woman?”
“No. No. Not her.” Georgie paused. “From what I heard, her boyfriend’s the killer. The cops think he’s murdered at least seven people.”
Well, that answered that question. Lollie had lied to me in order to protect her lover. A noble gesture, one I could even appreciate
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