Rabbit Blood

Chapter 42 - Out Of Control

"How the fuck would that've worked?" Husk was saying, after Angel filled him in. "This guy had two women at once? Two places to live, and he didn't get caught? Who has the fukken time? Guy deserves a medal."

Angel shrugged his four shoulders. "I dunno, cutey. My money's on the missus bein' a crackhead an' all." He led Husk into the reception hall, giving him a brief yet affectionate lower-back scratch. It was hard for Angel, keeping his hands to himself around Husk, but a cat-like growl made him withdraw. "Shit, sorry."

"Not in public," Husk reminded him. "So OK, maybe she didn't notice, but what about fukken Brighteyes? That's some willful denial if I ever-"

"Ehhhh, shaddap a sec," said Angel, as he spotted Leslie sitting alone, at a table twenty feet away. "In italiano, eh?"

They switched. Husk's grasp on the language was decent, and his accent strongly dialectical. He must have picked it up from some fucker from Catania. "Seriously, I don't get how that happens fer more than a couple months," he grouched. "Both sides share some blame fer this one. And if she does anythin' but cut and run from this guy, I'll have no fukken sympathy."

Leslie was nursing her drink, sadly tapping a finger in time to the piped-in jazz. She looked like death; Angel would have to go and cheer her up. "Fair point," he said to Husk. "Why don'tcha get us some drinks? I'd betta check on her."

Husk skulked away with a flick of his tail. As Angel walked over to Leslie, he smiled like a Labrador. "Hey there, lonely girl," he sang, once more in English. "Mind if I join ya?"

Maybe the song choice wasn't the best; she gave a hurt frown at first, but kicked the adjacent chair out for him to sit. "Hey, Angel."

"Jus' felt like hangin' out; maybe we'll see more idiots fuckin' with the pole," Angel said. He scanned the room, to see if nearby guests were giving them the stink-eye.

Leslie noticed. "Some of them are calling me Lellybean," she said.

"Figures."

"Yeah. Lesbo is almost preferable." She finished her gin. "I'm OK," she clearly lied, but a smirk crept over her face, "had something to distract me two nights ago."

Of course Angel knew what - or rather, who - she was talking about. He still wasn't wild about her fucking around with Al, but if it took her mind off things... He leaned in. "Oh yeah? Ya gonna share the details?"

"Not here."

"C'mon... ya gotta gimme a clue. You brought it up! No-one's lookin' at us." Unconvinced, Leslie glanced around slowly, twisting in her seat. Angel expected her nose to start twitching. No sign of Al anywhere, no shadows, and surely no reason for him to be invisible. Angel nodded, encouraging her to spill it. Then Leslie raised her hand to her face, lightly scratching at first, then sliding a finger into her mouth. Angel slapped the table. "Get the fuck outta here!"

"Nononono, no," she said with her hands raised, "take that extremely literally. And keep your fucking voice down!"

"Sorry," he muttered. "Uh, but that's it? Ya sucked his fingas?" Damn it, that was only kind of hot. He'd been expecting more. Angel imagined taking Al's clawed thumb in his own mouth up to the knucklebone, as a prelude to nicer activities.

"No, there was something else. He made me show him how I, you know."

"How ya what? Oh, never mind, I gettit."

"My whole face was burning. I was so embarrassed."

"Can't relate," Angel shrugged, and lit a cigarette. "Was that the idea, ta make ya embarrassed, or was he like takin' notes?"