Greetings!
This week I'm experimenting with "what ifs". Like, what if I'm on to something with this writing-thing? What if my stuff isn't crap, and is actually fun to read? What if I'm really awesome!
What would you do, if you knew you couldn't fail?
I have a trail of short stories from this year. A virtual notebook brimming with finished pieces, all of which need work, some more than others. I'm excited for them, even the ones I'm not sure how to fix. When I think that I haven't been productive this year, I look back on that folder full of stories and think, damn. I HAVE been writing. And what if... just, what if... some if it is actually good?
Here's another installment of Davis' story. I hope you enjoy!
LLH
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
"The Demented Non-Life of Jefferson Davis"
By L.L. Heberlein
(copyright 2015, all rights reserved)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
A half-hour later, I stepped out of Barbara’s hair salon, looking as chic as Schwartz. A younger-looking, scrawnier, less built and maybe more effeminate looking Schwartz, but at least I had the same haircut and a great looking suit.
I was ready for battle.
The conference room was at the end of a long corridor, a floor up from the hotel but down from the mortuary. This level of purgatory was strictly business with a high level of security. Big meetings went down here. Holding my meeting in Purgatory gave it an air of authority.
Mr. McGuffin was already seated when I entered the room. The colors of the room were much like my hotel suite – black mirror-like walls, beige carpeting, and a long, black, ultra-modern table with high-backed leather chairs. McGuffin sat at the head of the table, his hands folded over his jolly belly, almost like a happy Santa waiting to hear your Christmas wishes.
Missur Von Clamp – the lizard man – was there as well, conversing with McGuffin in a very easy manner. His feet were resting on the table, next to his brown fedora. He laced his thin, clawed hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. The moment he saw me walk in, he shot up, crossing the room in a second, and lunged for my neck.
“I ought to keeeeeelll yeeeewwww,” said the lizard man, claws outstretched.
I waited for the last second, then took one step to the side. He smacked into the door with an audible crack. This followed by the door being flung open, and the room filling with Eric’s black-clad posse of underworld cops. Two tough-looking guys, and one short blonde chick, and some sort-of cat-person assessed the situation, secured the room, and took Missur Von Clamp away kicking and screaming.
“But I wasssssss invited!” he screeched. “Thissssssss is my party, too!”
Eric stepped in the door. “Everything secure?” he asked one of his cops.
“All clear, sir,” said the short blonde. She must have been the ranking officer in charge.
Eric nodded, then looked to me. “You sure you don’t want me to leave a security detail?”
I shrugged. “You’re people got here so fast, I don’t think they could have responded faster.”
“We don’t need to respond if we can prevent an incident from happening,” said the blonde woman. The demon in me wondered what her name was, was she single, and how long it would be before we could invite her back to our hotel suit.
Easy, big fella, I told my demon. Business first.
“Maybe just one,” I looked toward the woman. I let the grin spread slowly across my face. I couldn’t help it. It’s my most alluring grin.
She grinned back, and the demon did a backflip in my belly.
Eric nodded, and gestured for the other members of the security team to head out. The blonde stood in the corner, looking official. Yes, business first.
Clara strode in next. She was dressed in a long white gown with a white fur wrap, nothing faux about it. The sparkly diamond necklace around her neck didn’t appear faux, either. Her red hair matched her lipstick. She wore huge sunglasses that covered her eyes, and most of her face. In one arm she held a little dog, a demon-eyed Chihuahua with fangs and white fur that matched her coat. On the other arm she had the tall black man that had just exited the room. “Thank you for the escort, Fredrick,” she said to the man. “If you wouldn’t mind staying?”
She smiled, showing full fangs. Fredrick nodded, and took a spot along the wall by the blonde.
“Are we waiting for Missur Von Clamp?” she asked.
“He was just escorted out!” McGuffin laughed. “He seemed rather obsessed with clawing Davis’ eyes out.”
Clara tossed her head back and gave one loud “Ha!”
I tilted my head to one side. “How did you know Missur Von Clamp would be here?”
Clara turned to me, and her jaw went slack. She licked her bottom lip. She’d be a terrible poker player. “I merely knew he would be. That’s all you need know.”
I sneered. “Right. Like I merely need to know who killed my friend at my place the other day. Was it you? Or the missur?”
She hissed. “I have no idea why you’d throw such accusations at me. I simply want my property delivered.”
I took a seat at the table, across from Clara, two seats down from McGuffin. My back was to the door, but I figured I was covered. “From what I hear, it’s not your property.” I looked to McGuffin, who smiled and laughed, hands bouncing a bit on his belly.
“That is MY property,” she said, pointing one long red-tipped finger at McGuffin. “I PAID you for it!”
“And I did not accept payment, if you recall,” he turned back to me. “Miss Clara is dead broke, you could say.”
“That is NOT true,” she spat. “I have adequate credit.”
“Which is with a certain company I refuse to do business with. Your credit is no good.”
“Whom you do business with is of no consequence to me. You can’t go back on our deal now, McGuffin! I own that stone. It is mine now, and you can’t have it back!”
“And I say it is not yours, and you cannot have it, either.”
I sat back and listened to the two have at it for a while, dickering over who owed whom and who had the rights to what. After a minute, I coughed.
“This is all pointless,” I said.
They both stopped, mid argument, and glared at me.
“Without the stone, I mean,” I said. “Which neither of you have.”
Clara gave a start, as if she just realized what I meant. McGuffin’s ever present smile fell. He stared at me, eyes glowing red. “You would not dare take ownership of the stone. It isn’t your property!”
I spread my hands. “Finders keepers.”
Clara hissed again. I’ve never known a vampire to hiss so much. McGuffin just sat there and steamed; you could almost see it roll off him.
Underworld law and order works differently than on the surface. We have a police force, and a council, but that’s mostly to keep us from killing each other. When it comes to property rights, might makes right. If I can take it from you, it’s mine. Fair, maybe not, but it’s been the law of the jungle since forever. If you can storm Dracula’s castle and take it from him, it’s yours. If he returns from the dead, yet again, and takes it back, you’re out of luck.
It’s sort of cowboy justice, I know, but keep in mind how rare and unique it is for us to have any sort of law and order at all.
They both looked at me, heaving.
“What is it you want, Mr. Davis?” McGuffin said. So we were back to the Mr., eh?
“Fifty thousand dollars,” I said. I resisted the urge to put a pinky to my lips. I could have made it a million, really. Fifty thousand seemed right, though.
“Done!” said McGuffin.
“Done!” said Clara.
“Great!” I said, clapping my hands. “Cash up front, please. Stone goes to whomever can produce it first. Fair is fair.”
The both looked at each other.
“You realize, Davis, that amount of money takes time to gather,” McGuffin said, reaching into his jacket pocket. “However, if you’re willing to take a check…”
“Nuh-uh,” I said. “Cash only. Cash, and the deal is done. I’m out of it. You two can fight over the stone together, all you want. The cash will cover my expenses, plus pain and suffering. I should charge you more, seeing as how my friend didn’t make it through all this alive.”
“And how is that OUR fault?” Clara asked, stroking her demonic Chihuahua.
“One of you, and I’m not saying who, is most definitely responsible.”
I looked from her to McGuffin and back. McGuffin was a blank slate. Clara twitched, but she always twitched.
“Lies!” Clara said. “False accusations. You have no proof.”
McGuffin regained his smile. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much, eh, Davis?”
“Bastard!” she hissed at McGuffin.
“Now, Clara. No one here is accusing you of anything. Mr. Davis is merely suggesting that it’s our responsibility that his friend got caught up in all this, resulting in his untimely demise.” He turned to me. “I suppose a bonus payment isn’t out of the question. One hundred thousand dollars, shall we say? So long as you can produce the stone, that is.”
I nodded. “I agree.”
McGuffin nodded. “Wonderful. Bring me the stone, and I shall have the funds brought up immediately.”
I smiled. “It’s not here. Obviously.”
Clara gripped the table. “What do you mean!!! You’ve been lying to us all the time. You don’t have the stone at all, do you, Davis?”
I shrugged. “I wasn’t actually going to bring it here. Why would I risk it?”’
McGuffin coughed. “Where, then, pray tell…”
“It’s hidden,” I said. “And you both can have at it after midnight, not before. It will be present at the funeral of Mr. John T. Horesman; service is at one a.m. You can have the stone after the service.”
Clara rolled her eyes. McGuffin nodded. “A fine tribute to your fallen comrade. Very well. We shall attend the service, cash in hand, and exchange goods afterward. Very well.”
Clara shot to her feet. “I will have the cash as well.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You know the price just went up to one-hundred-thousand?”
“Yes,” she said. “One-hundred-thousand cash, and I’ll throw in the car.”
I smiled. “I do like the car.”
“Now see here, Davis,” McGuffin said. “We had a deal.”
I pushed back from the table and rose to my feet. “The deal still stands. One-hundred-thousand, the first to hand me cash money gets the stone. You both have until one a.m., or shortly after. See you then.”
I turned and left. The dye had been cast.
I’d made a fair deal. It was now up to them to turn on each other, or decide to work together. Either way, I was out of it.
