Page 115 of Sky Song
Mr. Sulys, taken aback, listed sideways like a vessel taking in water. “How rude!” He straightened up his body - barely - and turned to Cricket. “I see, I’m not blind. You’re with her. Friends! More like, accomplices. A gang. And I believed you were one of us, the good people.”
“Mr. Sulys…”
“Hush! Don’t speak to me,” he slurred and raked his soft doughy hand through his hair. “Aliens. Yes, here, in our neighbro… neiber… neighbor. Hood.”
Paloma crossed her arms. “There aren’t any.”
“Yeah, any.” He laughed. “I saw one with me own itty-bitty eye.” He nearly poked himself in the eye to prove his point. “Liar. You like aliens. They come to you. Every time one does, my thing yaps and warns me. But of course, I couldn’t tell anybody that. Proof, they wanted proof.” He sighed wearily, butrallied. “But I’ll catch you… catch you on camera with your dirty friends.”
“Catch a bag of dicks and eat them, asswipe,” Paloma said succinctly.
He bristled. “Show some respect.” A little bit of saliva sprayed out of his soft pink mouth with the word ‘respect.’ “Hoes, the both of you. Disgusting alien suck dickers. Er, dick suckers.” He snorted wetly. “I’ll get you for this!”
“For what?”
“For everything! They told me I was mad, without proof. You’re proof!” He worked himself into a drunken lather even as he turned toward the door. Suddenly, he lashed out at Cricket, grabbing a handful of her sweater at the shoulder. His move startled her, and she fell against him.
A moment later, a shadow blocked the light. Sulys’ eyes peeled unnaturally wide. He immediately let go of Cricket, meowed like a pinched cat, and fell down.
“Goddamn,” Ren said from behind Lyle who loomed over the senseless Mr. Sulys like a specter of death. “You do have a super power. You can send them down with your looks alone.”
“Yes, all my wives thought I’m breathtaking,” Lyle agreed amiably.
Cricket choked. “Wives?”
“I had five.”
“You’ve been married five times?”
“I was married once,” he corrected. “To five women.”
She closed her eyes to block him out, pretty hair, black eyes, inked neck - everything. “I just can’t. Not now.”
“Don’t fret, my hearts. I no longer lay a claim on them. I lost my mating rights when I went to prison.”
Paloma gingerly touched her toes to Mr. Sulys’ still form. “What are we going to do about him?”
Hipper came out of the bedroom to investigate. He approached his rightful owner in a fearful semi-crouch and sniffed at his ear. Making a face like he smelled something bad, he backed away from the body, slithered between Lyle’s legs, and hopped behind the couch.
With a resigned sigh, Lyle leaned over and hefted the deadweight that was Mr. Sulys into his arms. “He is going home to have bad dreams.”
“I think we should call it a night and disperse. We’ll reconvene tomorrow.”
“No need to reconvene.” Lyle shouldered the back door open. “I said what I came to say. If you’re in, let her know.” He pointed his chin at Cricket.
“And if we are,” Paloma inquired slowly, “what are our guarantees that you come through with a transport?”
Lyle chuckled and shook his head, disappearing into the night.
“Did I say something wrong? What’s so funny?” Paloma asked Cricket and Ren.
Ren looped an arm around her shoulders, bringing them together. “Nothing is funny, sunshine.” He tenderly kissed the crown of her head. “We have no choice, and he knows it. He owns us now.”
“He thinks I’ll now run a search on him, the arrogant douche. Well, I won’t.”
Cricket lifted her head. “If you won’t then I will. I want to know.”
Paloma sighed. “I already did. I ran that search a long time ago, after he forced me to take you to Atticus that first time. Come here.”
