My Life as a White Trash Zombie

Page 41

I made a quick detour to a McDonalds and did a quick washing up in their bathroom. I changed clothes as well—into cargo pants and long-sleeved shirt, simply because those were the first things I grabbed out of the bags containing my worldly possessions. There was no way to wash my hair, so I simply brushed it back as neat as I could manage. If this thing with Randy didn’t pan out into a place to live, my next move was going to be to join a gym. Not because I had any desire to get fit—which didn’t really matter anymore now that I was a zombie—but for less than a hundred bucks a month I’d have a place to shower and change clothes every day. I’d still have to sleep in my car, though. And I’d have to buy a freezer and keep my brains in a storage unit.
Okay, so what if I’m too broke to live on my own, I thought fiercely as I pulled into the parking lot of the diner. It’ll suck, but I’ll get through it. Still, it would definitely make my day if Randy could find me a place to sleep other than my car.
After making sure the cooler was tightly closed in the trunk, I headed inside, inhaling deeply of the scent of waffles and eggs and coffee. As tanked up on brains as I was, breakfast was going to taste fantastic.
Randy was in the booth farthest from the door, seated so that he could see anyone coming in. I slid onto the cracked vinyl seat across from him and gave the waitress a smile as she stepped up.
“Coffee, orange juice, three pancakes, two eggs over easy, bacon, and grits,” I rattled off, hiding a grin at the memory of Ed ordering a similarly massive amount of food.
“Damn, Angel, when did you last eat?” Randy asked with a laugh as the waitress scribbled down the order and hurried away. “There’s no way you’ll eat all that.”
I shrugged. “I’m hungry.” The hunger for real and normal food felt insanely tame compared to the clawing of the Hunger. And when I was Hungry, it was tough to eat real food since I could barely taste anything. Food only tasted decent for about one day out of three unless I had an unlimited supply of brains. I wasn’t about to waste this opportunity to actually enjoy it. And this place had good, southern, comfort food, dripping with butter and calories—worth gorging on. Why the hell couldn’t I crave something less weird than brains? Chocolate zombie, that would be cool. Must have chocolate . . . .
I turned the giggle into a cough, then looked over at Randy. “Okay, what gives?” I asked.
He started to speak and then paused as the waitress returned and poured my coffee. I added milk and sugar, cupped the mug in both hands and sipped. Coffee zombie would make more sense. I looked at him expectantly.
“Damn, you look like you’ve never had coffee before.”
I smiled slightly. “I’ve decided to appreciate the good things in life.” Especially since I wasn’t always able to experience them. Besides, I needed to make sure I continued to eat real food to keep me from needing the brains quite so often, right? Kang’s warning about burning up the brains came back to me, and my throat tightened briefly at the reminder of him. Kang and I hadn’t been the best of friends or anything like that, but I felt as if I’d lost a companion in arms or something equally dorky.
I was on my own now with this whole zombie thing. Flying solo. Fuck it. I could do this.
Randy gave a shrug. “So I was talking with Clive and telling him about your job. And some of the stuff you told me.”
I looked at him blankly. “What stuff? About the bodies?”
He leaned forward and a chill of foreboding came over me. “No, I mean what you were telling me about,” he lowered his voice and flicked a glance around, “the pills.”
I kept my hands wrapped around the mug as an uncomfortable knot began to form in my stomach. “Yeah?” I couldn’t make myself say anything else. I knew where he was going with this.
“Yeah. He said that—” He abruptly paused and straightened as the waitress returned and slid a plate of pancakes and a bowl of grits onto the table in front of me.
“Eggs and bacon’ll be right out, hon,” she said with a smile before scurrying off again.
I carefully set my mug down and picked up my fork, controlling the tremor in my hand as best I could.
Randy kept his voice low. “He already knew about the stuff with the CO people seizing the pills. He said that all you had to do was slide some of that stuff his way and he’d take care of you. You wouldn’t have to do any selling or anything like that. There’s no way you could get into trouble. I mean, they destroy the stuff anyway, right? So what difference does it make?”
I stayed silent, carefully cutting off pieces of pancake with my fork and bringing them to my mouth. The very act of chewing and swallowing seemed strangely exaggerated. “I’d get in trouble if I was caught taking the drugs,” I finally said.
“So don’t get caught!” he replied with a laugh, as if that solved everything. Then he cocked his head. “Angel, what’s the deal? You said yourself that they destroy the stuff. It’s not stealing from anyone who needs it. And you do need the money. What, you’re gonna live with your white trash loser dad for the rest of your life?”
“He’s not a white trash loser,” I snapped.
Stark disbelief filled his eyes. “Right. Y’all live in a fucking shack, he smacks you around, and he drinks all the time.” He took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry I insulted your dad.” Then he spoiled the apology by rolling his eyes. “But you need to think about you. Clive’ll take care of all the hard work and give you half what he makes.”
I put my fork down. Suddenly the pancake didn’t taste so great. “And what do you get?”
Wary surprise flashed across his face, then he gave me a wry shrug and smile. “I get a small cut, too. I’m like the middleman, see? Since I’m hooking you two up and all.”
I gave a short nod. Maybe . . . maybe I wouldn’t have to be homeless. A weird relief filled me at the thought, and I suddenly realized how nervous I’d been at the thought of having to sleep in my car. Maybe I was being stupid and reckless to think that I could make it on my own. “How . . . .” I cleared my throat and tried again. “How much does he think he can get?”
Randy spread his hands. “That depends on what you can get him. But you know how much the stuff goes for on the street.” He tapped the table, leaning forward a bit more. “Babe, I’m thinking about you. You should too. Hell, this doesn’t have to be a long-term thing. Maybe for only a few weeks? In that time you could get more than you’d earn at the Coroner’s Office in a fucking year. Then you wouldn’t have to keep working there.” He chuckled. “And you wouldn’t smell like dead bodies anymore.”
His words were like a bucket of ice water. I took a shuddering breath. How could I even be considering this? I had everything to lose. Yeah, Randy was right. I needed to think about myself.
“I remember one time when another buddy of yours hooked me up with a really great deal.” I said. “I couldn’t lose. Remember? Five hundred bucks, and I got a car that was practically new.” I met his eyes with a hard gaze of my own. “Remember that? Remember me going to jail?”
He winced. “Yeah, well, that was fucked up. Everything that coulda gone wrong did.”
I shook my head. “No, the first thing that went wrong is that I believed something that was too good to be true.”
He let out an exaggerated breath. “Shit happens, but this—”
“No, Randy!” I interrupted. “Shit doesn’t just happen . Someone has to make a boneheaded decision first. And y’know what? I happen to like my job.”
Anger darkened his eyes. “Look, Angel, I’ve put up with a lot of your fucked up, neurotic shit over the years. I’ve given you crash space whenever you’ve wanted it, and listened to you whine about how your folks were so awful. You’re being pretty selfish here.”
“Selfish?” The word exploded from me. I was aware that people near us had turned to look, but I didn’t care. “Jesus, Randy, if I was caught, I’d go to jail! Did you even think about that?”
“Don’t give me that holier-than-thou crap,” he said, sneering. “Clive says you haven’t bought anything from him in almost two months. And there’s no way you went cold turkey and quit using. So I know you’ve been skimming those pills from work. What’s the deal? You’re already selling ’em on your own? You don’t want to give me a cut after everything I’ve fucking done for you?”
Fury seared through me, white and hot. “Don’t you ever fucking accuse me of that,” I said, voice low, intense. “I’ve never stolen anything from work, especially not drugs. I’m not using any more. I’m trying to turn my life around. Maybe you don’t understand that, but that’s not my problem, and I’m not going to let you drag me down anymore.”
Randy let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Me, drag you down? That’s rich. Man, you’ve become one hell of an arrogant little bitch. Oh yeah, you’re such a model of goddamn virtue. Is that why you went off and fucked that guy you met at Pillars the last time we were there? How much didja make off him?”
I stared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
His eyes narrowed. “When you left with that dickwad who’d been buying you drinks all night. I went out to see what the fuck was going on, and your drunk ass was all over him. You told me you wanted a good hard ride. And then the two of you peeled out in his Porsche.”
Bitter flashes of memory clicked into place. “I don’t remember much from that night . . . but I didn’t fuck him.”
He snorted. “Yeah, sure.”
I shook my head, feeling almost dizzy for an instant. “No,” I said, more memories suddenly crowding in. I hadn’t tried to walk home from the bar. “No, I was talking about his car. I’d never ridden in a Porsche before.” I dragged my eyes up to him. “You’re the one who’d been ignoring me all night for that other twit. He bought me a couple of drinks.” I stared at him as shock and betrayal surged through me. “I was falling down drunk, and you let me go off with him? Did you know him? Did I? It didn’t occur to you to watch out for me?”