Concrete Underground by Moxie Mezcal (desktop ebook reader txt) 📖

a small window. "Have a seat."

"On the floor?"

"They keep things pretty clean in places like this," she said and patted the cold white tiles next to her.

I reached up to slide the window open before joining her. Then I fished a pack of smokes out of my pocket and offered one to her.

"If we're gonna break the rules, we might as well do it right. Do you smoke?"

"Yeah, all the time," she said as she took it and lifted her veil. I lit our cigarettes and then watched her take a drag without inhaling. She held the smoke in her mouth for a second before spitting it back out in a messy cloud. It was obvious she had never had one before in her life.

"So it looked pretty brutal for you out there," she said, trying to pose with the cigarette like a film star from the thirties. "Everyone you walked past was staring daggers at you. I mean, it's obvious why they've got a problem with me," she paused to indicate her dress, "but what'd you do to piss them off?"

I shrugged, then took a deep drag and held it in my lungs. "It's complicated."

"Ooh, mysterious," she replied. "I like that."

I smirked. "Besides, I never really fit in at things like this. I'm just here for my sister - to support her or whatever, even if I do think her new husband is a raging douchebag."

She chuckled and took another phony drag. "So you're Jennifer's brother?"

I nodded. Then something clicked in my head; she definitely wasn't from our side of the family, and she was too young to be Jenny's friend or a professional acquaintance, so...

"You must be related to Brad then, right?" I asked, wincing.

"Yeah. Well actually it's complicated, and a little awkward for me to be telling you," she replied as she leaned forward conspiratorially. "The thing is, I'm actually married to Brad, too."

I laughed and half-choked on a mouthful of smoke. "You're kidding, right?"

She shook her head. "Brad and I met in the islands three years ago. We fell madly in love and were married in less than a month. Of course, his family disapproved and has never acknowledged it as valid. Still, they flew me out here and are letting me live on the family estate just to keep me quiet."

She was clearly lying. I laughed again, not knowing how else to respond.

"So if you're Jennifer's brother, and I'm your sister's husband's secret other wife, are we related?" she pondered. "What does that make us?"

"Strangers sitting on a bathroom floor," I said and flicked my cigarette butt into a urinal.

She laughed and slid closer to me. "Are you married?"

"Nope," I shook my head. "No wife for me, secret or otherwise."

"How about a girlfriend?" she pressed. "I saw you talking to Lilian Lynch, are you two together?"

I smirked. "No, Lily and I only know each other professionally. I'm trying to get an interview with her boss."

"Oh, you need to talk to Max?" she responded casually. "I can introduce you to him."

I did a double-take. "You know Dylan Maxwell?"

She nodded and reached into her purse to pull out a glossy rave card. One side was completely black. The other side was dark red with white printing, showing an address, date, and time. "He'll be at this party tomorrow night. You can be my date. Meet me there, and I'll introduce you."

I slipped the card into my jacket pocket, not really sure what to make of her. I watched her look down at the barely-touched cigarette in her hand as if she had forgotten about it. She tossed it away, having lost interest, then got up off the floor.

"Well, I gotta get going," she said, smoothing out her gown with her hands. "I'll see you tomorrow, right? You better not stand me up."

I nodded my head. She crossed the bathroom and unlocked the door, then turned around to look back at me. "I don't even know your name."

"D."

"Dee, like John Dee?" she asked.

"No, like A, B, C, D."

"Cool beans. I'm Columbine," she said with a wink and then opened the door.

"Of course." I grinned. She was gone.

5. Kind of a Douche, but Good for a Laugh

The next morning I called up my friend, Nick Unger, who worked for the police department. He agreed to meet me at the Casbah, a glorious little dive bar a few blocks from my apartment. It opened first thing in the morning, realizing the best drunks start early.

By the time he showed up I was already deep into my third drink and trying charm the bartender, Maggie, into comping my fourth. I was failing miserably as usual, but at least it was fun trying.

As soon as Nick walked through the front door, I slammed my palm down on the bar top. "Tricky Nicky! Have a drink, brother!"

He slid onto the bar stool beside me and smiled warmly at the bartender. "Has this low life been giving you grief, Maggie?"

She grinned at him. "Only since I opened the front door." Nick winked at her and ordered a half-pint of stout.

"Pansy," I scoffed and slammed the rest of my whiskey.

He shook his head. "God I miss you, you mad bastard. I can't imagine why Andrea won't let you come around the house anymore."

I shrugged. "I know, it's like as soon as she started squirting out brood, she suddenly gets all uptight about people starting fires in the middle of your living room."

"Imagine," he said as he raised his glass of beer.

I clinked my empty glass to his. "So guess who I ran into last night at Jenny's wedding?"

He shrugged.

"Brian Lopez."

He chuckled. "No shit. How is old Double-Dip?'

"Fat and sad," I replied while waving Maggie over for a refill. "And married to a smoking hottie. Well, married or engaged or whatever."

Nick nodded. "I met her. They were at a Police Union dinner around the holidays. She's a butterface."

I arched my eyebrow. "She had a face?"

Maggie rolled her eyes while she filled my glass. Nick caught her glance. "I know, he's got no class, but what are you gonna do?"

"Anyways," I continued, "she's way too hot for him, and that's not gonna end well. You just know that one of these days he's gonna come home and find her with the pool boy or some shit."

"Or with the pool boy, the plumber, and the mail man, all taking turns," Nick said. "Buddy of mine went to McKinley High with her, and apparently she had a reputation."

"Well, whatever... Brian's a douche now anyways, so fuck 'em."

"Yeah, he's a douche. Actually he's always been a douche." Nick drained the last of his beer. "Come to think of it, you've always been kind of a douche, too. But at least you're good for a laugh."

"I'll drink to that," I said, slapping a handful of bills down on the bar. "Next round's on me."

"Uh oh, Maggie," Nick chuckled. "If D's actually buying me a round, he must need something."

I flashed him a wolfish grin. "Let's head back to the patio and have a smoke, yeah?"

We went outside. I lit up, and he took a deep breath of my second-hand. He quit when he entered the academy and had to get his fix vicariously.

I showed him the article I clipped about the dead woman. "I need to know all there is to know about this."

He glanced at it and furrowed his brow. "What's to know? Some transient got scrubbed and left in a ditch on the side of the highway. Best guess is that she was hitchhiker who got picked up and wouldn't pay the fare." He bobbed his hand up and down in front of his pelvis to mime someone performing fellatio on him.

"There's really no ID, though? You couldn't match any fingerprints or dental records or biometrics and shit?"

He laughed and shook his head. "I don't think you really understand quite how those things work."

"So? I'm a journalist. It's not my job to understand things. I just ape the sounds other people make, like a parrot."

"Ape like a parrot - that's poetic, really." He chuckled then looked back at the article. "Look, there was one possible ID, but we looked into it and it didn't pan out. I probably shouldn't even mention this, knowing you, but one of the guys on the force thought he recognized her, said she looked like some lady who went missing a while ago. He remembered seeing her in the papers a lot, she used to run a computer company."

I perked up at that last tidbit. "Really?" I pulled out my notebook and started scribbling.

"Settle down. We checked the dental records - yes, dental records," he groaned, "and she wasn't a match."

"Could the records have been faked?" I asked.

"Only if you're some kind of paranoid conspiracy theory nut job," he replied.

"Sweet, I'm in like Flynn."

"Why are you interested in this anyways?"

I took the clipping back from him. "Don't worry about it. You know me, I just like to poke my nose in other people's business."

We went back inside and made small talk over one more round - long enough that Nick felt like he could politely ditch me to get back to his real life.

I stopped him as he was getting up to go. "Hey, if you're free tonight, I could use someone to get my back at this party." I dug into my pocket and showed him the invitation that Columbine had given me.

"You need someone to get your back at a party?" he asked skeptically.

"Brother, you wouldn't believe the week I've had. I feel like I need a body guard just going down the street to get a taco."

"I believe it. I still read your articles." He looked over the invitation. It read:

LABYRINTHINE

ART • TECHNOLOGY • PERFORMANCE • INTERSECTIONS

SATURDAY, MARCH 13, 9:00 P.M.

2332 NORTH ALAMEDA AVE.

"This sounds a bit fruity," he said with a raised eyebrow. "You're really going to this?"

"Maybe. It's for work," I explained.

"I'll pass. As tempting as it may sound to babysit you at some poofy circle jerk, I'm just going to stay home and nail my hot wife instead."

"No you won't. You have kids now, you're not nailing anything," I reminded him.

"Oh yeah," he said disappointedly. Then he glanced back at the card. "What's this symbol on the back about?"

"There's no symbol. The back's solid black."

He shook his head. "It's black ink on a black background. You have to hold it at the right angle to see it, like the Metallica Black Album cover."

"Or White Light/White Heat."

"Yeah." He showed me. It was the crown-and-globe symbol again.

"I thought you were supposed to be an investigative journalist."

Jenny turned her nose