town, probably part of the reason I have Intermittent Touretteâs syndrome. I wasnât allowed to cuss or drink or fool around as a girl. Now, Iâm trying to make up for lost time. I guess itâs sort of like a preacherâs kids the first week in college, they go hog wild. Only my first week has been going on for five years.â
Roland watched Stinky hop off the bar and saunter back to the table and leap into a chair.
âThe zombie drink didnât work,â Stinky said in Rolandâs head. âThat stuff didnât turn the guy into a zombie.â
âItâs a just drink,â Roland said. âItâs got cherry brandy, rum, lemon, lime and orange juice and a little grenadine.â
âAnd it doesnât turn people into zombies?â Stinky sighed, manifestly disappointed.
âOf course not,â said Roland. âThereâs no such thing as zombies. Thatâs only in bad horror movies.â
A condescending grin played at the corners of Stinkyâs mouth. ââThere are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.ââ Stinkyâs voice was redolent and Shakespearian in Rolandâs head.
âNow I suppose you knew Shakespeare?â
The waiter arrived shortly after Stinky returned and placed drinks before the couple and the saucer of cream and brandy in front of Stinky on the floor. Stinkyâs grin widened enigmatically as he bent down and began lapping up the creamy concoction.
âYouâre doing it again,â said Dee Dee. âHaving a one-sided conversation with that cat. Are you a little crazy?â
âWell, thatâs debatable,â said Roland. He thought about his running telepathic conversation with Stinky.
Dee took a sip from her glass. âHere is to fucking South Boston.â As she ran her tongue over her lips, she slipped off a sandal, stretched out her foot and brushed her toes against Rolandâs ankle.
Roland smiled. âTouretteâs?â he said. âIsnât that where you canât control what you say, you cuss a lot?â
âYeah, but I donât have it all the time. It comes and goes. Anyway,â Dee Dee said, âthe next town over from South Boston was called Halifax. It was smaller but, for some reason, the girls who grew up over there were a lot prettier than the girls in South Boston, so when a South Boston girl was hot she was called âHalifax hotâ. I was called that a lot growing up; about forty-seven times, actually. Thatâs how many guys were in my graduation class. â
âHow did you get to Key West?â
âYou mean why did I leave South Boston?â Dee Dee said. âBesides the dogma, the moralistic oppression, and the boredom? I was asked to leave when I was nineteen. Actually, the town was nice enough to buy me a one-way bus ticket to Key West, as far south as they could send me.â
âYou actually got run out of town! Why?â
âI was dating this guy and the town didnât approve. He was easily the richest guy in town. I think it was mostly his wife who objected, but the town agreed with her so they sent a town deputy to my house one day with a bus ticket.â
âThatâs the meanest thing Iâve ever heard,â said Roland, trying not to smile. Impressive, he thought, Iâve never known anyone who was actually run out of town.
âThey could have been meaner and sent me north.â Dee Dee grinned. âActually it a good thing, it got me here. Iâm doing better here.â
âI thought you said you were broke and about to be evicted,â said Roland.
âItâs still better than there.â She took another sip of mango daiquiri. âAnd Iâll find another job, thereâs lots of call for what I do.â
âWhat do you do?â
âI cut fish, make sushi,â Dee Dee said. âMaybe you know someone in town who needs a
Learning to Kill: Stories