POTN 5

POETRY  |  FICTION EXCERPT

Loose Change

by Kay Reynolds, art by Kay Reynolds

It’s sometime deep in the dark a.m. and we are following our usual drill when the band shuts down and leaves whoever’s left in the Diner at the mercy of the record jockeys. The selection is definitely decent so I figure it must be Lizzie B. in the box. Music, if not the actual band, plays on and most of whoever is left is dancing. We’re a genuine night-loving bunch in the Old Dominion.

Band’s are what we are talking about sitting at our regular table, Bel and the new guy Ramzi, Roxanne, Fist and me. And Snow.

Snow is sitting opposite me, pale as porcelain, fine as wine. More beautiful than harvest-moonlight grazing on water lilies. A Goth-crossed mixture of fashion-by Ert’e and face/body-by-Amano, easily the most exotic in the room, mortal or Fae. He should be wearing a sign around his neck reading "born to be spoiled" but Snow is too smart and tough to fall for that shit even though he likes getting presents as much as anybody I’ve ever met. More than some. He’s so great. He is as delighted with a fifty-cent bangle bought off the street as he is with a six-thousand dollar Cedric chain mail halter and belt.

Money’s not a problem. Obviously any shekel invested in concert with — or prior to — the Dawn of Civilization is going to yield some hefty returns x-millennium later. Besides, the Dragonriders know how to tap ALL the earthly veins in addition to those that spill the sangre divine and we’re not all so terribly tight with our hordes. What would be the point?

Snow doesn’t care about money although he’s more starved for "gestures of affection" than anyone I’ve ever known. Despite all that, he’s not spoiled and I don’t expect he ever will be. But I have fun trying.

Okay. I know. I’m biased. Snow is my lover of choice, my mate. Not that choice has a lot to do with it. There’s a peculiar mental/physical chemistry that takes on a life of its own sometimes and I guess that’s what happened to us. We’re not always compatible, we don’t like all the same things. Felix and Oscar comparisons have been made. (I’m not that bad. I don’t care what anybody says. Then again, Snow’s not that persnickety. Or he wouldn’t be fucking around with me.) Still, we’re not total opposites either. There’s more of heaven than hell in our relationship.

Regardless, we are together. We met, then separated and tried to stay apart but there was just too much chemistry (or whatever) pulling us together and making us crazy when we tried to resist so here we are. Sitting in the bar, trying to come up with names for the band.

That was Snow’s idea. "The band’s got to have a name," he said.

"But we’re not really a band," I told him. "We just get together and play."

"Every weekend and most week nights. You’ve got a following. People come from all over to hear you. That’s how we met, remember? You ought to find a name for yourselves that you like and that fits before someone else comes up with something you’re not happy with but sticks."

He said that all in the same breath with his very classy sounding British voice which is something of a turn-on for me.

"Stop that," he demanded. "Get a grip, Tony. I’m serious."

Hard to take him seriously when he’s laughing like that.

"What kind of grip would you like?" I ask.

He showed me.

God.

Well. Back at the bar. We are all babbling more than usual ‘cause it’s been a particularly good crowd and the music came out in an especially excellent manner. As Roxanne observes, "very hot for such cold souls".

I am soaring high since I’d fed well and deep earlier while it was still p.m. Sunday. Lorett Wilkins, new to the scene, visiting relatives just like she had every summer since she was eight years old. Now she was eighteen, lean in the right spots and broad and soft in the others and full of brass and good times. She was young but she was smart, too, and her aunt trusted her out on her own. Even in places like the Diner.

That’s what drew me to her first off, her being such a kid and all hanging free and easy in a place like this. Didn’t want trouble so I made it a point to keep an eye on her. It was more than the Pact we made with the Dominion powers when we first arrived. It’s just that things can get out of hand whether you mean for it to happen or not. People can get carried away by the moment and, when mortals mix with Fae, especially Blood Fae, things have a tendency to become so permanent. I didn’t want the kid to be hurt.