Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“We’re looking for someone,” Baptist says, standing at the edge of their circle. “Maybe you folks can help.”
“Maybe,” the woman says. She’s got short dark hair and sharp eyes. Her skin’s pale, and she might’ve been pretty once, but now she’s got sores on her lips and her fingers keep tugging at what’s left of her threadbare jacket. “But we don’t like to talk about folks in the camp.”
“We’re all about privacy,” the closer man says, grinning. He’s got a ratty beard and tattoos on his neck.
“I’ll pay,” Baptist says, holding up a wad of cash. “But information first. We’re looking for a guy named Rodrick. Good-looking, heroin user. Should’ve come around here looking to score.”
The woman snorts. “Yeah, I know fucking Rodrick. What the hell do you want with him? Are you working with that weirdo director guy too?”
“Tony Cowan,” the other man says, sounding appalled. “Tony Fucking Cowan. How do you not know who that is, Jenny? Seriously, I think your head’s all fucked up.”
“Oh, fuck you, Todd,” Jenny says, rolling her eyes. “Rodrick is at Kimmie’s place. You give me that cash and I’ll take you to them.”
“Hey, what the fuck,” Todd says and throws up his hands. “I thought we were gonna share.”
“Too slow, asshole.” Jenny hops to her feet and flips the two guys off. The first one laughs and Todd looks annoyed. “Come on, you two. This way.” She heads off into the tents and Baptist follows.
I stay close to him like I promised. I feel the eyes of the two men following us, and I don’t like the look on Todd’s face, like he’s pissed off and plotting something.
“Not many nice folks come in here these days,” Jenny says, chattering away without caring if we’re listening. “Cops been coming through lots and breaking shit apart, ripping down tents, wrecking the more permanent structures. You know, anyone that builds with wood and shit, that comes down real fast. Cops don’t like anything that looks like it could actually shelter people, know what I mean? Fucking pig fascist fucks.” She gestures around. “Lotsa folks live in here. Some got jobs. You two got jobs? That director guy said he’s looking for extras for his movie and I said I’d do whatever for some real pay and he laughed and said I was too sad looking. Imagine that shit.”
“Cowan’s a prick,” I say.
Jenny looks back at me and laughs. “Fuck, yeah, he is. All right, here there we go.” Her voice drops and she speaks softer. “Roddy and Kimmie are in that big green one right there. I saw them go in a half-hour ago and they’re either fucking or shooting up, probably high, so they’re still inside.” She holds out her hand. “That’s a done deal now.”
Baptist gives her the cash. She rolls it up tight, smells it, and shoves it down her pants before hurrying away in the opposite direction. I watch her go, wondering how someone ends up in a place like this, and feel a strange sense of fear wash over me. Not fear of these people, but fear of turning my back on my father and losing everything.
We approach the tent. Inside is dead silent. Baptist doesn’t bother to call out—he stoops down, unzips it, and shoves his head inside. I look in over his shoulder and spot two bodies lying next to each other, propped up on pillows, with the usual needle kit lying in between.
“Rodrick,” Baptist says. He doesn’t stir. The girl next to him is surprisingly attractive and clean, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, her clothes in halfway decent shape compared to what we’ve seen so far. The tent is clean, if a little stuffed with clothes and gear and food.
Baptist shakes Rodrick’s foot. “Wake the fuck up.”
Rodrick stirs, groaning. He looks like shit, hasn’t showered in at least a day, and there’s a long line of drool down his face. He wipes it off, blinking at first Baptist then me. “Darlings,” he says and smiles with a sigh. “I knew you’d come for me.” His eyes flutter like he’s about to fall asleep again.
Baptist slaps him hard in the face. “Asshole. Stay awake.”
Rodrick laughs. “That’s the second time you’ve hit me. I’m starting to think we’re in love.”
I cover my mouth, trying not to smile, and Baptist sighs deeply, the sound of a man so far at the end of his rope that he’s about to fall off completely.
“Get up. We’re going back.”
“But I’m not finished yet.” He nudges the girl next to him. “Hey, Kimmie, wake up. We need to run lines still.”
Baptist grabs Rodrick by the ankle and drags him out of the tent. The actor only laughs and doesn’t even try to fight back. Meanwhile, the girl named Kimmie groans and rolls onto her side but doesn’t react, too lost in her drugs to notice or care what’s going on around her.