The Hinky Bearskin Rug by Jennifer Stevenson Read Free Book Online Page B

living room. “Didn’t
the old guy eat anything besides danish?”
    Clay closed
the fridge. “Don’t look in there.”
    “Why?” Her
blood ran cold. “Is there another pocket zone?”
    “No, but it’s
really gross. Randy’s a good guy and all but I get the impression he
misinterprets our role. I mean, he’s not even a city employee.”
    “And you
behave like such a good citizen,” she snapped. “Don’t forget, you’re getting
him some fake ID papers.”
    “Now, is that
what a good citizen does?” Clay said.
    “The way
you’ve taught him to drive, he could get arrested or deported, or worse!”
    “Okay, okay,”
Clay said, soothing. “Consider it done.”
    The landlady
came up the back stairs. “This is horrible. Ve wanted to move up here so ve
could renovate first floor. Now ve can’t use second floor!” She peered through
the kitchen door into the living room. “It is still there?”
    Jewel took a
deep breath of stale danish and re-entered the living room.
    Randy was
walking from pile to pile of the magazines, tapping them. Poppets sprang up
wherever he tapped. “Interesting. My touch seems to summon the apparition.”
    Clay said, “Could
that be because you’re, uh—” He glanced over his shoulder at the landlady. “English?
Jewel, you try.”
    “No thanks.”
    The landlady
said tremulously, “Have you look in bedroom?”
    Euw. Jewel got the icks just trying to imagine the bedroom. “Clay,
how about you look?”
    “I’ll save
you, little lady,” Clay said in a deep voice. He threw his shoulders back and
opened the bedroom door.
    “They persist
as long as one engages with them,” Randy said thoughtfully.
    “What do you
mean, engage?” Jewel said.
    At the bedroom
door, Clay gasped.
    “What?” She
came to stand behind him.
    “It’s — it’s
full of—” Clay turned away, pushing her back.
    Randy
straightened.
    “What?” Jewel demanded.
    Clay pinched
his nose. “Sweat socks.”
    She shoved
past. The bedroom violated the Clean Air Act, but Clay was right. It was
G-rated. Dirty laundry lay ankle-deep, but she saw no girlie posters, porn, or
poppets.
    She came out
and stood looking around at the stacks of porn and their dancing, twirling,
teasing, laughing poppets. She turned to the landlady. “Do you have a dumpster?
Or just those little garbage cans?”
    “Deli on the
corner hass dumpster,” the landlady said.
    “When do they
swap out for a new one?”
    “I ask my
Aubrey!” The landlady went downstairs.
    Jewel called a
huddle. “Randy, what do you mean they persist if you engage with them?”
    “I believe
your term is ‘interactive.’ They are autonomous but responsive only. That
signifies a message of some sort.”
    “So?” Jewel
said.
    “So if one
doesn’t ask them to appear, they will not appear. Probably. If one ignores
them, they subside — vanish. O’Connor must have known what would happen, for he
never threw away the old magazines.”
    Jewel bit her
lip. “So did he, like, make them
appear? I mean, did he make this happen?”
    Randy looked
around the room. “I don’t know.”
    “I know
something else you don’t know,” Clay said.
    Jewel looked
at him impatiently. “Yes, Mr. Comic Relief? You have a contribution?”
    “These bakery
bags.” Clay took a white ball of paper out of the overflowing wastebasket and
uncrumpled it. “Have you looked at the address?”
    “Hoby’s,”
Jewel said. “My favorite.”
    Clay yanked
the rolled-up magazine out of Randy’s back pocket. “They’re from the same place
as this lame porn.” He flipped through the magazine and pointed at fine print. “Nine
sixty west Washington Boulevard.”
    “I’ve seen
that address recently.” Jewel frowned. “Huh. Obviously we’re gonna have to pay
this porn company a visit.” She licked her lips. “And buy some pastry while
we’re at it.”
    While Jewel
phoned in their discovery to Ed, Randy gathered up armloads of magazines and
hauled them to the dumpster behind