one she’d seen Lolli pour her drug out of. He shoved the baggie into the front pocket of his jeans.
“Come on, what is it?” Val asked, but her voice was hushed now.
“I can honestly say I have no fucking clue,” Sketchy Dave said. “Look. I have to go uptown and drop this off. You can come along with me, but you have to hang back when we get there.”
“Is that the stuff Lolli shot in her arm?” Val asked.
Dave hesitated.
“Look,” Val said. “I can just ask Lolli.”
“You can’t believe everything Lolli says.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Val demanded.
“Nothing.” Dave shook his head and walked off. Val had no choice but to follow him. She wasn’t even sure she could find her way back to the abandoned platform without him to guide her and she needed her bag to go anywhere else.
They took the F to Thirty-fourth Street then switched to the B, taking that all the way to Ninety-sixth. Sketchy Dave held on to a horizontal metal bar and did pull-ups as the train thundered through the tunnels.
Val looked out the train window, watching the small lights marking distance streak by, but after a while her eyes were drawn to the other passengers. A wiry black man with close-cropped hair swayed unconsciously to the music on his iPod, a load of manuscripts balanced in one arm. A girl seated next to him was carefully drawing a glove of inky swirls up her own hand. Leaning against the doors, a tall man in a striped gray suit clutched his briefcase and stared at Dave in horror. Each person seemed to have a destination, but Val was a piece of driftwood, spinning down a river, not even sure in what direction she was moving. But she knew how to make herself spin faster.
From the station, they walked a few blocks to the edge of Riverside Park, a sprawling patch of green that sloped down the highway to the water beyond. Across the street, town houses with park views had curling ironwork at the windows and doors. Intricately carved concrete blocks framed doorways and stair railings, forming fantastical dragons and lions and griffons that leered down at her in the reflected glow of street lamps. Val and Dave passed a fountain where a stone eagle with a cracked beak glowered over a murky green pool choked with leaves.
“Just wait here,” Sketchy Dave said.
“Why?” Val asked. “What is the big deal? You already told me all kinds of shit you aren’t supposed to.”
“I told you you’re not supposed to be along.”
“Fine.” Val relented and sat down on the edge of the fountain. “I’ll be right here.”
“Good,” Dave said and jogged across the street to a door without iron grillwork. He walked up the white steps, put down the box of romance novels, and pressed a buzzer near where someone had stenciled a mushroom with spray paint. Val glanced up at the sculpted gargoyles that flanked the roof of the building. As she was looking, one seemed to shudder, like a bird on a perch, stony feathers rustling and then settling. Val froze, staring at it, and after a moment, the gargoyle went still.
Val jumped up and crossed the street, calling Dave’s name. But as she got to the steps, the black door opened and a woman stepped into the doorway. She wore a long white slip. Her tangled, brown-and-green hair looked unwashed and the skin under her eyes was dark as a bruise. Hooves peeked out from under the hem of the slip where feet should have been.
Val froze, and the skirt settled, covering them, leaving Val unsure of what she’d seen.
Sketchy Dave turned his head and gave Val a fierce glare before he took out the beer bottle from his bag.
“Come inside?” the hoofed woman asked, her voice rough, as though she’d been shouting. She didn’t seem to notice that the seal had been broken.
“Yeah,” Sketchy Dave said.
“Who’s your friend?”
“Val,” Val said, trying not to gape. “I’m new. Dave’s showing me the ropes.”
“She can wait out here,” said Dave.
“Do you think me so
“Come on, what is it?” Val asked, but her voice was hushed now.
“I can honestly say I have no fucking clue,” Sketchy Dave said. “Look. I have to go uptown and drop this off. You can come along with me, but you have to hang back when we get there.”
“Is that the stuff Lolli shot in her arm?” Val asked.
Dave hesitated.
“Look,” Val said. “I can just ask Lolli.”
“You can’t believe everything Lolli says.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Val demanded.
“Nothing.” Dave shook his head and walked off. Val had no choice but to follow him. She wasn’t even sure she could find her way back to the abandoned platform without him to guide her and she needed her bag to go anywhere else.
They took the F to Thirty-fourth Street then switched to the B, taking that all the way to Ninety-sixth. Sketchy Dave held on to a horizontal metal bar and did pull-ups as the train thundered through the tunnels.
Val looked out the train window, watching the small lights marking distance streak by, but after a while her eyes were drawn to the other passengers. A wiry black man with close-cropped hair swayed unconsciously to the music on his iPod, a load of manuscripts balanced in one arm. A girl seated next to him was carefully drawing a glove of inky swirls up her own hand. Leaning against the doors, a tall man in a striped gray suit clutched his briefcase and stared at Dave in horror. Each person seemed to have a destination, but Val was a piece of driftwood, spinning down a river, not even sure in what direction she was moving. But she knew how to make herself spin faster.
From the station, they walked a few blocks to the edge of Riverside Park, a sprawling patch of green that sloped down the highway to the water beyond. Across the street, town houses with park views had curling ironwork at the windows and doors. Intricately carved concrete blocks framed doorways and stair railings, forming fantastical dragons and lions and griffons that leered down at her in the reflected glow of street lamps. Val and Dave passed a fountain where a stone eagle with a cracked beak glowered over a murky green pool choked with leaves.
“Just wait here,” Sketchy Dave said.
“Why?” Val asked. “What is the big deal? You already told me all kinds of shit you aren’t supposed to.”
“I told you you’re not supposed to be along.”
“Fine.” Val relented and sat down on the edge of the fountain. “I’ll be right here.”
“Good,” Dave said and jogged across the street to a door without iron grillwork. He walked up the white steps, put down the box of romance novels, and pressed a buzzer near where someone had stenciled a mushroom with spray paint. Val glanced up at the sculpted gargoyles that flanked the roof of the building. As she was looking, one seemed to shudder, like a bird on a perch, stony feathers rustling and then settling. Val froze, staring at it, and after a moment, the gargoyle went still.
Val jumped up and crossed the street, calling Dave’s name. But as she got to the steps, the black door opened and a woman stepped into the doorway. She wore a long white slip. Her tangled, brown-and-green hair looked unwashed and the skin under her eyes was dark as a bruise. Hooves peeked out from under the hem of the slip where feet should have been.
Val froze, and the skirt settled, covering them, leaving Val unsure of what she’d seen.
Sketchy Dave turned his head and gave Val a fierce glare before he took out the beer bottle from his bag.
“Come inside?” the hoofed woman asked, her voice rough, as though she’d been shouting. She didn’t seem to notice that the seal had been broken.
“Yeah,” Sketchy Dave said.
“Who’s your friend?”
“Val,” Val said, trying not to gape. “I’m new. Dave’s showing me the ropes.”
“She can wait out here,” said Dave.
“Do you think me so
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