Rabbit Blood

Chapter 45 - Getting Lost

For the week and a half leading to Hallowe'en, Leslie heard not a peep out of Decider. As promised, he kept his distance, and on rare occasions when they crossed paths in the hall, it was a stiff nod of the head, nothing more. The distance was appreciated, and it gave her space and time to think.

She wanted to tell him not to change, if it was only to impress her. Leslie thought it was only fair to tell him. How disappointed would he be if, after all the hard work, she couldn't take him back? It was unnecessarily cruel to lead him on, and she wasn't a cruel person.

Charlie would be pleased though, if Decider became a success story for the hotel. Right now, the woman seemed desperate to get someone, anyone, to redeem themselves. The rent dropped. Class attendance was incentivized. Access to the bar became steadily more limited, and rumors spread about some kind of planned quasi-baptism event.

"Dunno how the fuck that's gonna go," Angel remarked. "I feel like doin' religious stuff down here makes ya burst inta fuckin' flames."

o - o - o - o - o

Leslie had no plans for Hallowe'en. Maybe she'd go to the roof that night and watch the city come to life. She certainly expected nothing from Alastor, who'd been absent since their rendezvous by the balcony; but then he turned up on Saturday morning, hands behind his back, as she was having breakfast.

"New dress?" he asked.

"Not exactly," she said, "but look! It's got pockets!" This failed to amaze Alastor, so she shrugged and asked where the hell he'd been.

"I move in mysterious ways," he said, and winked twice. "Nine."

Leslie frowned. "Huh?"

"9pm," he clarified, and then he stretched out a hand to, for some reason, drop a pile of bacon onto her plate. Alastor left without a word of explanation, so Leslie was confused. He'd never done such a thing before. If anything, he only ever stole her food. A horrifying thought occurred, and she had to call Angel Dust to check on his pet; but Fat Nuggets was unharmed.

"He's prankin' ya," said Angel dryly, "and very fuckin' funny it was too. My sides're in fuckin' stitches. Ohh, the pain."

But Leslie wasn't so sure. The more she thought about it, the more it felt like some kind of sign. And why did Alastor want to meet her so early that night?

Superstition led her to re-shower that evening, brush her teeth twice, and spray herself with a can of Niffty's air-freshener. She even took out the old green babydoll and laid it on her bed, staring at it. The significance would be lost on the likes of Alastor, but maybe he'd tear the thing off her body with his teeth, and that would be exciting.

No, she thought, putting it away. Don't do that. Don't be so fucking obvious.

At 9pm she entered his office, a little better-looking than normal, and Alastor leaned against his desk, one slender leg crossed over the other. She loved his legs, and wanted very much to expose his ankles and cover them with kisses. Not many people knew he wore sock suspenders, but oddly enough, he made them work. From outside came the sounds of light drizzle: acid rain again. It was a good night to be indoors.

"Hello, sweetheart," he said.

"Hi, honeybunch," she japed, joining him by the desk. "Is that a foxglove in your lapel?"

"Indeed."

"Hm. Well, I don't speak flower, but it's very striking." She noticed the song playing on the record player. "I know these guys!"

"You do?"

"Yes! Fuck, one of my mom's friends introduced me to them, when I was younger. He was probably hitting on me, thinking back, but great taste in music. Sorry, I'm babbling, I... don't know why I feel so nervous."