Undead and Unforgiven(19)
“It’ll work for me,” I said, and she nodded so hard I was afraid she’d brain herself on something. She turned, grabbed a cup and straw, fiddled with the machine, and ta-dah! She handed it to me with a shaking hand, and I took a sip. Excellent. A very good year. “What’s your name?”
“Jennifer Palmer?” This while fiddling with her side ponytail. No one should bring attention to a side ponytail.
“Well, thanks, Jennifer.”
“Oh!” She was young—late teens, maybe—with bitten nails, a Frankie Says Relax T-shirt, acid-washed jeans, and of course a hairnet, required by all who worked the food courts. It wasn’t that Hell cared if hair got in the food. It’s that people detested wearing hairnets. “You’re—you’re welcome, ma’am?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Um.” She looked around, but suddenly every single person in the food court was busy looking busy and not so much as glancing at either of us. “Sure? I guess?”
Ugh, I hated the “even though this is a declarative sentence I’m saying it like a question?” thing. But she was already a bit of a nervous wreck, so I let it pass. “Is this your punishment?”
She blinked. “Yes.”
“Working a food court for eternity.”
“Uh-huh.”
“How long’s it been?” I could have conjured up a clipboard laden with all the pertinent info, but was curious to hear what she had to say. A clipboard could give me the facts, but not the person behind them.
“Uh . . .” Lots of blinking now. I could almost read her mind: Where is she going with this? Oh fuck, am I in more trouble now? I tried to warn her about the Orange Julius! “Thirty-one years.”
“If you didn’t have to be here, where would you go?”
“I—” Another glance around, but nope. No help from anywhere. And I wasn’t budging. “I don’t know.”
“Well, think about it.” I sucked up Julius and waited. I was as patient as a mannequin: unmoving, blank faced, and dressed in trendy clothes. Finally . . .
“I guess I’d go home. Tell them I’m sorry, tell them the whole story. My folks are still alive, my sister, and he is, too.”
“Oh yeah?”
“The fire was an accident, but they thought it was on purpose.” Definitely warming to her subject, no pun intended. The side ponytail bounced as she gestured. “I couldn’t tell anybody . . . I mean, Tammy died.” Bounce. “All because I wasn’t paying attention, y’know?” I didn’t, but nodded anyway. “They thought it was on purpose and I couldn’t— Someone went to prison for it. I could’ve said something. I didn’t. I was,” she summed up, shaking her head so the bouncing turned to swaying, “chickenshit.”
“And not surprised to find yourself in Hell.”
“Suicides go to Hell,” was the flat response. As if catching her mood, the ponytail went still. “So no. I wasn’t surprised.”
“Okay.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why didn’t you know that?”
“I could’ve gotten the info. I wanted to hear what you have to say.”
“Oh.” She paused. Swallowed. Then, in a small voice, and with a smaller smile: “Thanks.”
“Sure.” Aww. She was sweet, for an accidental murderous arsonist who watched an innocent man go to prison while never saying a word for fear of incriminating herself. And it wasn’t her fault she died on a terrible hair day. Oh. Wait. It was. Well, no one was perfect.
“Hey, Betsy!” Ah, here came Marc the sodom— God, I wish I could get that out of my head. Damn you to Hell, Marya Bill Washington! Again! “Been looking for you.” He was trotting past the tables of the damned, the only one in the place who was smiling. “Okay, how cool was Mary Ball?”
“Chums now, huh?”
“She’s got sooo much dirt on people here!” He was so gleeful, he was practically rubbing his hands together. But not bored—and that was the main thing. “You wouldn’t believe— I’ll tell you later. Hey.” To Jennifer, who blinked back. “She introduced me to a whole . . .”
My phone buzzed against my hip and I pulled it free, nodded at Marc to continue, saw I had a text from Sinclair.
I miss you.
I want you.
Come.
“. . . cut both their heads off and they still found him not guilty! Hey. Are you all right?”
“Fine.” I gulped. My sluggish, undead blood was doing its best to travel south and that one word was all I could manage. “Nnk.”