Busted Flush

“He said to tell you to ‘live forward.’ Then he was quiet for a long time, and then he murmured something. I think he was still talking to you. He said ‘for love is strong as death.’ Do you know what he means?”

The agony in my belly is gone. My throat is tight and my chest tight, but I’m oddly calm. “Yes. Yes, I think I do.”

“Are you coming home?”

“No. I need to be here for Drake.”

“Then I’ll be here for your father.” Her voice is very soft.

“I’ll see you soon,” I say and hang up the phone. “Good-bye, Dad. Godspeed. I love you,” I whisper. But the words are whipped away by the rising wind.

Shoulda

Caroline Spector

“YOU’VE BEEN A BAD, bad dolly,” Sprout said. “Now you have to go to bed.”

I walked into the room where Hoodoo Mama was watching Sprout play. Their heads were together, and it was hard for me to reconcile the hard-ass zombie chick with this gentle girl who was so tender with Sprout.

“My dolly has been very bad,” Sprout said, looking up at me.

“Oh, what did dolly do?” I asked.

“She walked funny. See.”

Sprout put the dolly on the floor. It got up on all fours and staggered around the room.

“What the fu—heck is that?”

“Uhm,” Hoodoo Mama said.

I strode over to the dolly and picked it up.

“Oh, hell no,” I said. “Joey, you can’t let her play with zombie cats.” I opened the door and dropped the cat in the hall.

“I want my dolly!”

“How about we go out shopping and find you a new dolly?” Hoodoo Mama said.

Sprout frowned. “But I want mine.”

“Tell you what, I bet Michelle will make you some bubbles.”

They turned back toward me with expectant looks. I gave Hoodoo Mama a glare, but I couldn’t be mad at Sprout. She was sweet beyond all measure.

“Okay, Sprout,” I said. “What kind of bubbles do you want? Soapy? Rubbery?”

“Balls!”

“Rubbery it is.”

I made an assortment of bouncy, soft, moderately tough bubbles. Sprout giggled and began to chase them around the room. Ever since Noel had dumped her in our lap, we’d been trying to think of ways to keep her happy. And not scared.

Once Hoodoo Mama had realized that Sprout was a child mentally, she was pissed as hell at Noel. “Fucker just dragged that poor little girl into the middle of all this shit about to go down,” she hissed at me.

“She’s in her thirties,” I said.

“That don’t mean dick.” Her hands curled into fists and her breathing was harsh. “You can tell by looking at her that she’s special.”

“Well, her father is at the center of all this mess,” I replied. “If you’re going to be pissed at anyone, be pissed at him. He snatched Drake and set all of this in motion.”

Hoodoo Mama’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t think I don’t know that. That fucker will be sorry he messed with any of this.”

Her rage was so pure and clean. I envied it. But I was also trying to avoid spending too much time with her. We hadn’t talked about what had happened in the warehouse the night of the hurricane. Just thinking about it made me feel queasy. And excited. And confused.

I didn’t know who I was anymore. I didn’t make love to other girls. I mean, girls other than my girlfriend. But Hoodoo Mama had needed me then. And I had wanted to help her, but then things got carried away. And . . . and I was making excuses.

I left Hoodoo Mama with Sprout and walked across the hall to Bugsy’s suite. Since the rest of the Committee had shown up, we’d taken over the entire top floor of the Royal Sonesta. I could hear the arguing through the door, but I knocked anyway.

“. . .you bastard . . . Weathers . . .”

The door flew open. Bugsy had a pissed look on his face. Behind him it looked like an American Hero reunion. Except there were no cameras and no one was smiling. But the furniture was better. Nice Louis XVI–style couches and chairs. All done up in tasteful blues.

Drummer Boy was missing, though. I was still trying to decide if that was a good thing. He’d been an asshole during the show, but afterward, in Egypt, he wasn’t as bad. And Curveball, Lohengrin, Rustbelt, Toad Man, and Brave Hawk were here in addition to my own team.

“Bad time?” I whispered.

Bugsy’s body began to look fuzzy. He was going all insect-y on me. “It’s not great,” he replied.

Fortune was glaring at Noel. Curveball, Rusty, and Lohengrin were leaning against the far wall of the room. They all had their arms crossed and they looked pissed.

“I don’t see what the big deal is about Weathers,” said Gardener, leaning forward in her chair. “Between us, we can take him.”

Noel rolled his eyes. “Honestly, John, where do you get these girls? TV? Weathers is terrifyingly powerful and completely mad—and he’s been around longer than most of you have been alive.”

Toad Man’s tongue snapped out and popped loudly behind Noel’s head. His tongue rolled back into his mouth and he morphed out of toad form. “You should really watch who you’re being snotty to,” he said. “Far as I know, you’re a double-crossing, cross-dressing liar who shouldn’t even be here.”