The Serpent's Kiss

82

Michael Church and Ray Moretti stood in line to get J Slim T-shirts. Both clutched tall plastic cups of beer in their hands. Ray was getting wasted in a hurry, thought Michael. He only sipped his own beer, wasn’t sure if he liked it. They’d stopped at Hoops and tried out their fake I.D.s, no problem, though the bartender eyed Ray a little suspiciously. He’d had two beers then, Ray had three, and Ray was getting a little loud and dumb. The loud wasn’t exactly new. The dumb wasn’t either, for that matter, but Michael hadn’t realized just dumb Ray could get.

“Look at her,” Ray pointed. “Check out her ass. What you think? An eight?”

He was loud enough that everybody around him looked over. A couple guys looked where he was pointing and hooted. “A seven, man. But check out those tits!”

“Low standards,” another said. “Big, but fat. Not bad ass, though.”

Michael felt uneasy. It wasn’t just the girls. It was something else. The way some of the people looked at them disapprovingly. And something else besides that. Probably that he was so far off the reservation right now.

Ray elbowed him, spilling beer. “What ya think, Mike? How about her?”

Michael looked over at the girl Ray was pointing at. She saw the gesture and gave them the finger. Then she pointed at Ray and held up her hand in a zero gesture. Michael had to smile at the same time his face flushed with embarrassment. She was pretty hot and he liked that she wasn’t embarrassed — instead, she got ticked and dished it right back.

“Chill, dude,” he said.

“Is this fuckin’ great or what?” Ray crowed.

The guy in front of them glanced behind him. He was an older guy, maybe in his thirties, with deep-set blue eyes and a round face. He slouched in his denim jacket, a gray painter’s cap shading his face. He took in Ray and said, “Might want to pace yourself, bud. It’s gonna be a long night.”

“Mind your own fuckin’ business,” Ray snarled.

“Chill,” Michael hissed. He flashed the guy an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

The guy just shrugged.

Ray went back to his pussy hunt. Michael wished he’d stop. He had a little bit of a headache from the beer. And he really didn’t want to get piss-drunk. If he did they’d never get home in one piece, assuming he could find his friggin’ car out there if he had too much to drink.

He ignored Ray for a minute and took out his cell phone. He’d turned it off. But he needed to see if his mom had called. He’d need someplace quiet to talk to her and convince her he was actually over at Ray’s. He figured she was all tied up with The Serpent and wouldn’t be home anytime soon, and that was okay. And she hadn’t actually given him a final “no” about the concert tonight, though he knew she would have if she hadn’t actually had to take off to the city so fast.

“Calling your mommy?” Ray asked, knocking back a big swallow of his beer.

Michael flashed Ray the bird and waited for the phone to come on. Almost immediately it chimed, indicating he had a message. Damn.

“Hey, get me an XL in that one there,” Michael said, pointing to a black T-shirt with a big, distorted white J Slim face on the front, a list of concert venues on the back.

“You don’t want that one?” Ray pointed to the classic J Slim with two raised middle fingers.

Michael patted his chest. “Got that one. Here.” He thrust money into Ray’s hand. “I’ve gotta go check this. Hold my beer.”

“Fuckin’ A, man. It’ll be gone if you don’t hurry your ass.”

Michael walked hurriedly away from the concessions, looking for a door outside. It was damned loud here. He double-checked that he had his ticket and his hand stamped, and stepped through the doors onto the west entrance sidewalk. It was cool outside, a breeze blowing in out of the northwest. The air smelled rank. The Palace was just south and east of a landfill, and when the wind blew right, it smelled like garbage.

He had a good strong signal here, and he punched in to retrieve his call. His jaw dropped as he heard his mom’s message about leaving The Palace, about The Serpent planning an attack. Heart hammering in his chest, he punched the auto dial for his mom’s cell. A wild moment of panic gripped him. He wanted to run. He wanted to drop the phone and sprint for his car and get the hell out of there.

Then he bit his lip and cooled off. Okay. Now what? What was he going to do?