Heath turned and walked over to one of the long tables without answering and dragged it into the center of the room. Colin put his fizzy water down on the bar and went over to help him. Clorox glanced at Puddles, picked up his suitcases, and followed.
“What are we doing?” he asked Heath.
“She’s our transportation,” Heath said, taking a chair off the table closest to the wall and setting it down at the table. “She needs to know where we’re going.”
“Yeah, so do I,” the dwarf said flatly. “An’ what I’m contributing to this enterprise.”
“You’re the muscle,” Colin said with a smirk. He got a chair and set it on the other side of the table from the three Heath had arranged, next to Clorox.
Clorox gave him the finger in passing and sat down in it. Heath shook his head. “Uh-uh,” he said “You’re on our side. She can sit there, where we can all see her.”
Clorox slid down from the chair, picked up his suitcases, and went around to the other side of the table.
“I can hear you, maithili,” Puddles said warningly. “I have very good ears.” She strolled over and stepped lightly up onto the center stage. She sniffed the brass pole like an animal, then stuck out a long pink tongue and licked it experimentally. “I don’t know how the whores who work here are all getting pregnant at once,” she said, wrinkling her nose disapprovingly. “At least four of the foolish bitches need to learn to use a calendar.”
“I’ve always wondered, Puddles, do things like you eat your young?” Colin said conversationally, sitting down and putting his boots up on the table.
The Dancer rubbed her fingers and her thumb together. “I keep telling you that you have to pay me if you want to discuss your disgusting fetishes, Colin,” she said wearily, as if speaking to a child. “I promise I will pretend to listen, and I won’t judge your tiny penis if you wish to masturbate while you talk, but cash up front.”
Clorox let out a barking noise that was probably something other than a guffaw of surprised laughter. Colin glared at him. The dwarf had a brief coughing fit, cleared his throat, and glanced guiltily at Colin. “Sorry,” he muttered.
Heath sat down and pointed at the chair opposite. “Show off on your own time, Deena,” he said.
Puddles bent backwards until her hands were flat on the ground, kicked her legs gracefully up and over, and touched down lightly on the floor in front of the stage, as casually as anyone else might have walked. She flipped her long braid over her shoulder and sat where she had been directed. “Yes, maithili,” she said with a little sigh, dropping her eyes demurely. She crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap.
“What does that word mean?” Clorox growled. “What you keep calling the Ridgeback.”
“Husband,” Heath said shortly.
Clorox opened his mouth to speak. Colin cut him off with a look. “Don’t ask,” he said, a warning note in his voice.
Heath gave a barely perceptible nod of thanks in the Greyhound’s direction. He cleared his throat. “We’re extracting Lisa Carver from a bad situation and bringing her home to her dad,” he said. “I’ve decided that in addition, we’re going to kill her big brother Carroll. I saw her the other night; she’s mutilated herself, which is not an uncommon outcome for those he uses to fuel his gift after he’s done with them.”
“Does Daryl know?” Colin asked. “About any of this?”
“The Ghost works in mysterious ways,” said Puddles unexpectedly. Her tone was thoughtful. “Where do you need me to take you?”
That statement-of-purpose at the end here, the clear thrust moving forward--yesss. We're going to extract Lisa Carver, and we're going to kill her brother before or after. Let's jump back to Carroll, by all means. I want to see more of that mean sonofabitch, particularly in light of what we now know is possible in this world.
Just showing up here to confirm my continually absorbed presence...