"The Demented Non-Life of Jefferson Davis" -- Chapter Eight

Hey!

Okay, yeah. It's been a while. Turns out I'm not so good at the regular publishing of the blog. But the serial is still happening, you just gotta be patient.

Thanks, Lucy!

Reading through this story again makes me happy. It reminds me of why I write, what I love to write, what makes me happy about writing. Lately, I haven't been very happy about writing. I've been putting stuff out there to get published, and it's killing me. I think more about what I think people want to read, and less about what I want to write. The muse just stops. I get... confused. I'm not sure what I'm doing anymore. Or why.

But every time I come back to the pulpy stories, I fall in love with writing all over again.

IN THIS CHAPTER, which is not very long, we see our hero dealing with too many women (poor Davis. Either too few, or too many. Never just enough.), and we learn there's more to fear from the Monsieur, who is wicked pissed off, and set to get out of jail soon.

Enjoy,
LLH



Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
 

"The Demented Non-Life of Jefferson Davis"

By L.L. Heberlein

(copyright 2015, all rights reserved)

CHAPTER EIGHT:

I called Lucy.

And now I was starting to think it wasn’t such a good idea. She came over and spent the next hour lying on my couch, crying in my lap. Words would not help. Everything I said just made her burst into tears.

“Wu…we were going to get muh…married!” she sobbed. “He… didn’t get the chance to ask me, but it wu..was going to happen.”

I agreed with this statement, and she just sobbed louder.

“Oh, JOHN! Oh, god, JOHN!”

Lucy was a little thing. Five-foot-two and weight of a feather. Her hair was dark and soft, cut just to her neckline in an angled bob. She wore a floral print dress over black leggings, with knee-high leather boots of buttery brown leather. Usually her makeup was immaculate, with just enough eyeliner and mascara to make her blue eyes sparkle. She was a mess now, with puffy eyes and tears streaking her face. I wished I had tissues to offer her. I put that on my mental shopping list.

I stroked her hair. It was so soft, and smelled wonderful. Every time I ran my hand over it, I’d get this wave of perfumed shampoo, something feminine and floral. It was nice.

I’d always thought Lucy had a bit of a crush on me. She was always bringing me things for the apartment, things she thought an apartment should have, like the old-fashioned refrigerator and actual curtains for the tiny basement windows. The scented candles had come from her, too. Sometimes I’d wake up, and there would be something new in the apartment. Some new touch that made it more homey.

Maybe she was just being nice.

Lucy sat up from my lap, all tear-streaked and lip-quivering. Her swollen eyes and puffed lips made her look kind-of cute, in a girlish sort-of way. I was about to ask if she needed anything… a glass of water or something… when she kissed me. It started innocently enough, I supposed. Just a brush of the lips, something sweet and friendly.

I thought, this is wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t take advantage of the poor girl after she’d had such a shock. But I did what I knew I shouldn’t and kissed her back. Her cherry lip gloss tasted fantastic.

There was a brief knock at the door, and someone walked in.

“Hey, Davis. I need to…” It was India. She stopped talking once she saw Lucy in my lap. I jumped up, and Lucy landed on the floor with a thud.

“India!” I tried not to let my voice crack. I failed. “I didn’t expect to see you…”

“Same ol’ Davis, eh?” she said with a smirk. She had on that same red leather jacket and tight black pants, but something was different. Her shirt was black and shiny. And very low cut. Her standard work-issued combat boots had been replaced by high heels. Her nails were a deep red. So were her lips. This wasn’t a casual outfit. This woman was going somewhere and expecting something.

If I’d been red-blooded, I’d have turned red-faced. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Yeah, it is,” she said. “No worries, lover boy. I guess I should know better than to barge in on you.”

Lucy made an attempt to sit up and straighten her skirt.  I pulled her up onto the couch and sat next to her. I gave India a casual smile. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing.” She walked around the room, examining books on shelves and the dust on the tables. “Just wanted to inform you that your lizard-friend is set to go free tomorrow evening. Just thought you should know.”

“What!” Lucy shrieked. “But isn’t that the guy who killed John!”

“No proof,” India said. “And he has a lawyer. A very good lawyer. We can’t keep him past tomorrow night, not without stronger evidence that he did it.”

“Can’t you work up a spell? Do some sort of magic hocus pocus thing and determine his guilt?”

She shook her head. “We’ve been trying all night. Everything we could think of. There’s no blood under his claws, no evidence on his clothing. No trace of black magic. His alibi even checks out.”

I stroked my chin. “So, nothing. Looks like he didn’t do it.”

“Looks like.” She walked to the door, opened it and looked back. “Just wanted to let you know. Oh, and one more thing. He’s wicked pissed at you, Davis.”

“Right,” I said. Great. One more thing to worry about.

“Watch your back,” she said, then shut the door.

I followed her to the door and locked it behind her. Lucy looked at me with huge eyes. “If they didn’t get the guy… that means John’s killer is on the loose!” She buried her face in her hands. “Oh, John!”

The sobbing was getting on my nerves. “Look, Lucy. Why don’t you go on home and get some rest? It’s been a long day… night… and you’ve been through a lot.”

She took her hands from her face and nodded. “You’re right,” she said. She stood up, then threw her arms around me. “Oh, Davis. I hope you don’t think… I mean, I was just so sad! It’s just all so…. And I have to figure out what to do… about a funeral….” Her body started to shake.

“Shhhh, hey listen. Why don’t you come back tomorrow night, okay? We’ll figure things out together.” I pushed her away, gently. Lucy nodded, grabbed her coat, and left without another word.

The demon in me screamed. WE COULD HAVE HAD HER! The demon craved her, wanted nothing more than to run after her and do all sorts of naughty things to her. I told the demon to shut up and promised it a cup of coffee. The demon didn’t seem interested. It brought up thoughts of India, her little black top and those sexy heels, those red lips.

India was always the demon’s favorite food.

Out of the question, I thought. India and I are absolutely not getting back together. There’s just no way… but, then again, she did show up at my doorstep tonight wearing that outfit. Shouldn’t assume, I told myself. Gets me in too much trouble. Never a good idea. And yet…

Still, even if India had intended something, seeing Lucy on top of me probably put a stop to any of her plans. The demon in me screamed FUCK! WE HAD A CHANCE WITH INDIA, AND NOW WE’VE FUCKED IT UP!

The rational side of me thought that was probably for the best. I sighed, figured I’d dodged all kinds of bullets, and went out for a double espresso.