Night Prayers (9 page)

"Saves," Mica mumbled.

He'd already caused more than enough scenes for one night — and it wasn't even midnight yet. Like it or not… disgusted by the men (and
women
, may the Lord open their eyes to the damnation of their unnatural sexual preference) or not… the Lord had led Mica to this place and to this place he must stay until…

… until whatever the Lord had in mind for him happened.

Whatever that was.

At first Mica thought the constant exposure to naked women and their nightly invitations to get to "know" them better was a Divine Punishment because he'd walked out on
(left, dammit)
Piper.

But the Lord had made him see the error of that the same way He'd shown Mica the error of putting the love for a mere woman over the purer Love of God.

The job was a test of his Faith. Mica understood that. He just hoped he'd max the final when it came.

"Damn…" The Lord spoke through the Furvert's raspy voice, "Would you
look
at what's coming?"

Mica knew it'd been the Lord speaking, because — when he
saw
what the man was pointing at
— he'd felt a great orgasmic shock rock his body.

It couldn't have been any clearer if the clouds had suddenly parted and the voice of his old high school Ethics teacher had intoned "Please remove all items from your desk and take out a Number 2 pencil, the final exam will begin momentarily."

"YES, Lord," Mica answered.

"
Amen
to that, brother," the Furvert agreed.

She was weaving in and out of the crowd — oblivious to the hungry stares from the men and envious glares from the women as she moved steadily up Sunset.

Toward the
Pit
.

Toward him.

Mica zipped the jacket all the way up to his throat and shivered. It was as if the steaming night had suddenly been put under attack by a freak arctic blast.

Dressed in short joggers and a dark leather vest, she paused briefly under a street light and ran a hand slowly through her hair. Another jolt raced up Mica's spine then did a quick U-Turn. Even in the cat-piss yellow sodium glow he could tell her hair was red… the color of autumn leaves.

It was a little shorter than he remembered, only halfway down her back, but there was no doubt in Mica's mind that the woman lurching away from the light and staggering up the street was…

"She's drunk!"

"As a skunk," the Furvert said as he turned in the opposite direction. "Well, see ya tomorrow. Fur Forever!"

"Yeah. Right, fur-ever, man." He mouthed the Furvert-Farewell without even hearing it.

Piper
— drunk or on drugs. A woman of the streets.

And he'd done that to her because he'd walked out on her
(yeah… walked out)
without taking the time to sit down and try to explain… without trying to make her understand that it wasn't really
her
he was leaving it was just that…

… that what he felt for her scared the piss out of him.

Loving her left no room in his heart for God.

Mica knew the Lord had forgiven him.

Now all he needed was
her
forgiveness.

Mica took a half-dozen steps down the street and stopped dead. Piper was talking to a grey-haired man in black, laughing and shaking her head. When the man sidled up alongside her, Piper threw her head back and howled loud enough for Mica to hear.

Maybe she wasn't drunk or high… maybe she was just prone to the same "fits" as Mica's Grandmamma had been. On more than one occasion he could remember the old lady lurching around the house singing at the top of her lungs. But since she was a devout teetotaler there was no reason behind her actions.

Mica suspected demonic possession.

His mama suspected the old lady was totalling more than tea.

The doctor came and said she'd just gone crazy after Mica's Granddaddy died.

Maybe Piper had gone crazy after he left.

Guilt twisted the bile in his gut while he watched the black-clad old man try again. This time Piper puffed out her cheeks and patted her stomach.

"Oh, God."

"Yeah, I heard you were talking to him again," Luci's voice said out of nowhere.

Spinning on his heels, Mica came face to face with the full-color cutout come to life. Only
this
one was furless. And dressed.

In knee-length cutoffs and an oversized man's white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows Luci looked more like everyone's kid sister than an exotic dancer. This was the
real
Luci. He preferred her that way. And she seemed to know it.

"So, what's the good word from above?" she asked, "can we sinners expect another plague?"

Mica smiled and almost forgot Piper on the street behind him.
Almost
.

"No, ma'am."

"I'm so glad."

Smiling, Luci ran a hand slowly through her white-blond hair —
the same way Piper had
— then tossed it over one shoulder and began braiding it. Mica felt his own short hairs stand up when Luci's smile became an ugly smirk. But only for an instant.

An illusion.

When he blinked her smile was just as sweet and innocent as it always was when she talked to him.

Strange.

"So tell me," she said, still smiling, "how did you like my dance tonight? Have I corrupted you yet?"

Mica chuckled and shook his head. That had been a standard joke between them since he started.

"Guess I'll just have to try
harder
then." Luci poked him gently in the belly and let her hand slide down the front of his jeans before pulling it away. "Won't I?"

"You try any harder," Mica gasped, "and you might win."

She liked that answer. "Promises, promises. Now… one other question since I can't tempt you over to the
dark
side yet
— You just taking a little break or are you running away from home. Again?"

"What?"

Luci jerked her head instead of answering and Mica looked past her. They were a good fifteen feet away from the club. His "office" unattended.

"Oops."

"Oops, he says. I'm probably losing twenties of dollars because you're not out there shilling and all you can say is
oops
."

Tossing the half-completed braid back over her shoulder, Luci laced her arm through his and gave it a quick hug, showing him she was only teasing. Mica could feel the coolness of her skin even through the jacket
— one of the benefits of working inside an air-conditioned building.

"What
am
I going to do with you, Preacher-boy? Chain you to the door? Hey, that's not a bad idea. We could…"

Mica stopped listening the same way he had with the old ladies and glanced back down the street.
Piper
had stopped laughing and was trying to find her way back on to the crowded sidewalk. She stumbled and Mica caught his breath…

Piper

… afraid she'd go down and get trampled by the unseeing herd. But she caught herself at the last moment and ricocheted off a kid in a Mickey Mouse tee-shirt who looked like he'd just got a jump start into puberty. Especially after Piper reached out and patted him on the head.

The tug on his arm spun Mica around.

"You talking to the heavenly host again?" Luci asked, pouting candy-pink lips to let him know she was hurt he hadn't been listening.

"I'm — um, I'm sorry, Luci," Mica stammered. "It's… no, I wasn't…"

"Oh, I'm just teasing. Who's Piper?"

The question blind-sided him the same way a fast-ball had his first summer at Vacation Bible Camp. And done about as much damage. Mica's head was throbbing when he finally managed to look into Luci's fiery green eyes.

"What'd you say?"

"Piper," Luci answered. "You said that name a minute ago and I wondered who that was. An old girlfriend?"

"I —"
What's happening, Lord
? "— I really said Piper? Out loud?"
I couldn't have. Could I? Did I, Lord
? "Really?"

Luci nodded and sucked in her lips like a little girl standing up in Sunday School who'd been caught talking in class.

"Uh huh, you said it all right and I just wondered…"

"It's that girl right there," Mica said, turning around and pointing — just as
Piper
caught the toe of her running shoe on a piece of buckled concrete and went sprawling.

Luci didn't seem too impressed. "You mean the one on the ground?"

"Yeah."

"Piper?"

"Yeah."

"An old friend?"

"Yeah."

"Lover?"

The answer caught in Mica's throat with the tenacity of a chicken bone and wouldn't come out. A moment later, Luci's arm snaked around his waist and pulled him close. The coolness of her touch helped. A little.

"I understand, Preacher-boy, you don't have to go into details right now." Shaking her head, Luci let go of him and watched
Piper's
ass play tag with the sidewalk as she tried to stand up. "Looks like she's had kind of a rough time since you knew her, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Well, don't just stand there, Preacher-boy," Luci said, slapping him on the butt. "Go get her. Unless she's strung out too high for even me to deal with, I think we could find a place for her at the Pit. Sure as hell beats the street."

"The Pit?" Mica repeated. "You mean as a…
dancer
?"

"No," Luci said, hands on hip, "as a bouncer. Gypsy needs somebody who can take over for him when he goes on pee-breaks. Of
course
as a dancer. Why? Do you think what I do is wrong, Preacher-boy?"

Yes! You incite the evil in men's minds and fill them with wanton lust and desires beyond the scope of God's intent!

"No," Mica said out loud, "of course not."

"Well then," Luci said as she turned and started walking back to the club, "go get her. And who knows, Preacher-boy, between the two of us we might just corrupt you yet."

"Now, Luci you know that —" Mica glanced back over his shoulder but Luci was already gone… probably ran ahead to tell Miriam about Piper.

He'd talk to her later about putting an end to the joke once and for all. Right now he had to get Piper off the streets and back into the arms of the Lord.

Fetch!

She was dead.

Truly and honestly
dead
.

And God had forgiven her, because a golden haired Angel was hovering above her. And lo, the Angel spoke:

"What the fuck do you think you were doing out there?"

She must have been an Episcopalian Angel.

Allison blinked carefully and squinted in the soft pink light.
Heaven
was certainly different than the pictures in her Sunday School books.

She was laying on an ebony day-bed, half covered by a rabbit-fur throw that had been dyed red to match the walls. A long row of make-up tables dominated one end of the room. Brass hooks were hung with feathered boas and satin scarfs… and whips and chains and leather straps. What looked like discarded, flamboyant costumes draped the two Mama-San chairs set up in one corner.

And instead of paintings that showed the Rewards of the Righteous — like her Sunday School teacher had promised
— the flame red walls were hung with framed cartoons of large-eyed animal men and women engaged in many and varied (and humanly impossible) sexual acts.