work by now: the doorway had changed and was now a glass wall, with silver rain on the other side, so that it cast a million shards of reflection. In those shards, I saw myself as a multitude, and behind me was a legion of oversize scorpions, something laughable in a cheesy sci-fi movie but not so funny when they were creeping toward you with tails quivering in the air.
Tails full of poison.
I turned to face her wrath. "This relationship is over."
Laughter again, the whoosh of rising flames, the crackle and drag of a whip uncoiling and testing the air. "You owe me."
"I said I was sorry."
She mimicked me in a high-pitched voice, the mockery all the more disconcerting coming from those arachnid lips. If scorpions even had lips, that is. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I wish I had a rosary bead for every time I've heard that word. Maybe I could pray my ass out of here."
I had the feeling she didn't want to be out. Some people are gluttons for punishment, masochists, misery addicts. She'd married me, after all.
"I have nothing to pay you with," I said. Back on Earth, when I committed transgressions, she'd sought payback in a straightforward expression of commerce. Staying out late merited a bouquet of flowers, Godiva chocolates compensated for bold-faced lies, and the bigger offenses required breaking the bank for shiny baubles. I was a pretty decent liar back then, so the corner candy store hadn't seen much business. But when I had the first affair, she'd been fairly content with a set of ruby earrings, especially as I'd had to moonlight as a bartender for three months to pay them off. If the punishment fit the crime, I'd never seen it.
"I want my pound of flesh," she said.
The lava flowed around my ankles, then up my legs, teasing me with heat. When it was waist deep, it suddenly cooled and solidified. I couldn't run. She had me right where she wanted me, just like always.
I pinched my wrist and let my finger and thumb meet in the middle. "I don't have any flesh to offer," I said.
"I don't care whether I win or lose," she said. "As long as you lose."
"Look, I'm doing my best to clean up the past. I know I made mistakes but all I can do now is make amends and move on."
"Richard."
I lifted my palms in the universal sign of surrender. "It's the best I got."
"Always a disappointment."
"Yes, dear."
"You don't get it. I don't care if you jump off this little carnival karmic wheel and land on your head. But you're never going to have Lee."
The anger came easily, self-righteous indignation, the only kind of righteousness I'd ever known. "You stay away from her. She has nothing to do with you."
Her forked tongue flicked out the crevice of her smile. "I'm on a mission."
She shimmered, the atmosphere around her glistening like iced jewels dangling from thin blue threads.
"Live and let live," I said, a corny peace offering.
"If I can't have you, nobody can." She grinned again, but her eyes were an arctic cemetery as she faded to mist.
I closed my eyes and clenched my muscles against the hardened lava, willing it to shatter and release me to the bigger cage of my eternal life.
***
7.
I took a dead breath, opened my eyes, and I was back in the lobby of my apartment building. I let my fingers do the walking near the lobby telephone. Bailey's address was on one of those fancy streets just up in the hills below the Hollywood sign, so I drifted over. The house was a Moroccan-Mediterranean type, with a lot of ceramic work and bougainvillea climbing all over the place. Probably cost a mere half-million. Wait till she got my bill. I'd been known to adjust my rates both up and down, depending on a client's ability to pay.
Darkness was falling by the time I checked the place out. Bailey was sprawled in the hot tub, nude except for some bubbles. She was listening to that song of the dogs barking "Jingle Bells," which definitely wasn't mood music. I discreetly left her to her champagne and ice bucket, though I noticed two
Tails full of poison.
I turned to face her wrath. "This relationship is over."
Laughter again, the whoosh of rising flames, the crackle and drag of a whip uncoiling and testing the air. "You owe me."
"I said I was sorry."
She mimicked me in a high-pitched voice, the mockery all the more disconcerting coming from those arachnid lips. If scorpions even had lips, that is. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I wish I had a rosary bead for every time I've heard that word. Maybe I could pray my ass out of here."
I had the feeling she didn't want to be out. Some people are gluttons for punishment, masochists, misery addicts. She'd married me, after all.
"I have nothing to pay you with," I said. Back on Earth, when I committed transgressions, she'd sought payback in a straightforward expression of commerce. Staying out late merited a bouquet of flowers, Godiva chocolates compensated for bold-faced lies, and the bigger offenses required breaking the bank for shiny baubles. I was a pretty decent liar back then, so the corner candy store hadn't seen much business. But when I had the first affair, she'd been fairly content with a set of ruby earrings, especially as I'd had to moonlight as a bartender for three months to pay them off. If the punishment fit the crime, I'd never seen it.
"I want my pound of flesh," she said.
The lava flowed around my ankles, then up my legs, teasing me with heat. When it was waist deep, it suddenly cooled and solidified. I couldn't run. She had me right where she wanted me, just like always.
I pinched my wrist and let my finger and thumb meet in the middle. "I don't have any flesh to offer," I said.
"I don't care whether I win or lose," she said. "As long as you lose."
"Look, I'm doing my best to clean up the past. I know I made mistakes but all I can do now is make amends and move on."
"Richard."
I lifted my palms in the universal sign of surrender. "It's the best I got."
"Always a disappointment."
"Yes, dear."
"You don't get it. I don't care if you jump off this little carnival karmic wheel and land on your head. But you're never going to have Lee."
The anger came easily, self-righteous indignation, the only kind of righteousness I'd ever known. "You stay away from her. She has nothing to do with you."
Her forked tongue flicked out the crevice of her smile. "I'm on a mission."
She shimmered, the atmosphere around her glistening like iced jewels dangling from thin blue threads.
"Live and let live," I said, a corny peace offering.
"If I can't have you, nobody can." She grinned again, but her eyes were an arctic cemetery as she faded to mist.
I closed my eyes and clenched my muscles against the hardened lava, willing it to shatter and release me to the bigger cage of my eternal life.
***
7.
I took a dead breath, opened my eyes, and I was back in the lobby of my apartment building. I let my fingers do the walking near the lobby telephone. Bailey's address was on one of those fancy streets just up in the hills below the Hollywood sign, so I drifted over. The house was a Moroccan-Mediterranean type, with a lot of ceramic work and bougainvillea climbing all over the place. Probably cost a mere half-million. Wait till she got my bill. I'd been known to adjust my rates both up and down, depending on a client's ability to pay.
Darkness was falling by the time I checked the place out. Bailey was sprawled in the hot tub, nude except for some bubbles. She was listening to that song of the dogs barking "Jingle Bells," which definitely wasn't mood music. I discreetly left her to her champagne and ice bucket, though I noticed two
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