ROAD SHOW

Eddie Korbitt noticed her the minute he walked in. It was impossible not to stare although he tried to be discreet about it. He tried to look away but, like a gamester who had just discovered what's-wrong-with-this-picture, Eddie's eyes couldn't help but wander back to the solution. The kid sat alone in the booth at the back of Ramona's Bar & Grill, toying with a soda straw in a drink that had gone flat hours ago. Not that Eddie was close enough to know that little detail first hand, It was just that his time on the road had presented this scene so often. A runaway waif on the lam decked out in MTV drag. She'd been out of her element at home and was now certainly w-a-y out of place at Ramona's. This was a south-east pit stop for truckers and all night drivers, not the kind of haven that catered to baby glam punks. He couldn't help but wonder what the hell she was doing here and various scenarios filtered through his mind. He had heard so many tales of woe, so many sad stories during his time on the road from children with eyes like ancients. They were all so pathetically alike.

The kid stood up and glided across the length of the room on nine inch stiletto heels sporting attitude like a queen breezing past her inferiors, ass length blond hair swaying as she moved. She ladled it on as thick as the cosmetics coating her eyes and mouth. The pants were so tight and shiny she looked like she'd been dipped in black ink from the waist down and left to dry. An over-large t-shirt had been razored to ribbons over a silver lace bustier that did the best it could with what was barely there. Clusters of baubles clinked and glittered at her ears and her throat, around her wrists. Eddie watched her feed a fist full of dollar bills into a juke box shaped like a child's Transformer toy. Soon the same, relentless series of Billy Idol and Eurythmics tunes were thundering through the room again like they had every twenty minutes for the past hour. The kid stood in front of the big robot, flipped her hair back and rocked to the music, oblivious of who watched.

From the opposite side of the counter, the waitress gave Eddie a sympathetic grin as profound as her cleavage which was considerable. A red and white plastic badge perched up front and perky read "Holly Joy".

"You want I should pull the plug on that?" she asked.

"No, that's okay."

"How 'bout a heater on that coffee?"

Eddie grinned back, nodded. "Thanks."

"You're sure welcome, honey."

Holly Joy refilled the cup and set a fresh tin of cream in front of

him. Eddie shifted his glance in the kid's direction and back to Holly Joy.

"What's the story there?" he asked.

"Love, honey, what else? A fight with the boyfriend. Joey said you could hear them all the way in here from the parking lot."

"When?"

"Right after sunset. I was just coming in and I saw it all."

"What happened?"

"The usual. Screaming, yelling, pushing, shoving. Then he takes off in the proverbial blaze of fury on a big, black Harley. Son of a bitch circles back. Almost run us both down." Holly Joy's full lips went tight.

"That one picks up and settles in here. And roots. Waiting for the return of lover boy, I guess."

"Sounds like quite a scene."

"No joke. Jesus, I wish they'd pick some where's else to light.

They give me the creeps. Joey said to serve the soda and let be. So I did. But you'd think some people would pick up the hint. You'd think some people would know when they're not wanted in a place."

Holly Joy raised her voice and glared at the kid. She was practically shouting. Eddie looked around behind again. For a long second, the kid stared back at them. Then made her way back to the booth. Pale with embarrassment, she sat down, back against the corner wall, and fixed her attention on her warm, flat soda.

"Was that necessary?" Eddie asked softly.

"Well, I think so or I wouldn't have said it, would I?" Holly Joy busied herself with a rag and the spotless counter top.

"I wonder why she doesn't call someone to come pick her up? She's got money."

"I guess if there was someone to call, it would've been done by now, don't you think?"

Eddie shook his head. Yeah, he'd seen all this before but seeing never made it any easier.

Holly Joy winced, watching him.

"You men are all alike, all infected with white knight syndrome.

You're just looking for some poor, little damsel in distress to rescue. I been watching you making cow's eyes at that one since you come in.

Sweetheart, if you think that's a princess, you can call me Cleopatra."

"I've been that obvious?"

"Not to most eyes. But some folks was paying attention." The fire washed out of her tirade. She sighed and her name badge dipped and rolled like a rising tide. "I guess I'm out of luck tonight, huh?"

Eddie cleared his throat. "Sorry," he said and meant it. "Got a route to run. I've got to be miles away from here by morning. You know how it is."

"Yeah. I know. Folks coming and going all the time." Holly Joy folded the rag carefully. "So, you fixing to make Dominion part of your regular run?"

"I'm always looking for new territory," Eddie said and let his grin spread back over his face. Folks were always telling him what a nice smile he had and he was glad to display it when he had the chance. It was more than good business-sense. Eddie wanted people to like him.

"Well, maybe you'll stop back at Ramona's next time you're around."

"If I'm still welcome," he said. "You're not going to be mad if I try to help her out a little? She's just a kid."

"Suit yourself, honey. It's a free country."

Eddie took out a crisp, ten dollar bill and set it down by Holly Joy's hand. It made for more than a generous tip. Both of them understood

Eddie would be back as soon as he could.

"You've got a sharp tongue, Holly Joy," he said. "But inside I know you've got a good heart."

"And you got a smooth line, stranger," Holly Joy told him, grinning again. "But you watch yourself. Don't let your mouth write any checks your ass can't cash."

He had to laugh at that and did, swinging his jacket over his arm.

He walked to the back of the room and stopped at the kid's booth. She stared at him with a fawn's wall-eyed distress trying to regain her earlier arrogance and failing badly.

The laugh disappeared.

"You know we were talking about you," Eddie said gently. "I know you're in trouble."

Her hands twitched around her glass like skinny, broken-winged birds, the nails absurdly long and painted black like sharp, glistening beaks. When she spoke, her voice was surprisingly low and melodic with a Gallic accent so thick it had to be phoney. Eddie made an effort to keep a straight face.

"I'm not in trouble," the kid said. "I'm waiting for Ash."

"Well, it's getting kind of late, don't you think?"

"Ash will come."

"Before next week?"

She glared at him directly and her small mouth fell into a pout she fought to keep from trembling. One side of her hair was shaved short and spiked but the mousse and gel had dried out so that tangled locks limped down into her eyes. Eddie had guessed right. Those were old eyes that looked back at him from a face just to the north of jail bait. Now, like a child, words locked in her throat and she went stubbornly silent.

"I just thought maybe I could give you a lift somewhere," Eddie said. Shrugged. "Unless you want to wait for Miss Congeniality over there to call the cops."

"The police? Why would she call the police?"

"That's the next step, kid. I think you might have overheard you've worn out your welcome. Look, I'm just trying to do you a favor."

In the end it didn't take her long to decide. He watched her focus winging around the room, scanning the walls and corners for alternatives that wouldn't come. Soon enough, without another word, she picked up her purse and a white camellia as limp as her hair and followed Eddie outside to his car. Up close, he could see the marks on her, the bruise on her cheek, an old one all but concealed by a generous application of Cover Girl and rouge. The prints on her arms were more recent and now he could spot the gash on one knee. He could only assume that had happened in the parking lot brawl. Blood had dried into spandex. It was going to be gruesome stuff separating cloth from flesh. He swallowed hard and, once again, tried not to stare as he unlocked the car door and held it open for her. Closed it.

Eddie took his place behind the wheel and asked: "Where to?"

She lifted a thin arm, pointed out to the highway darkness and said: "There. That way."

"All right." He smiled, reassuring. "I'm headed that way myself."

Relaxed, Eddie pulled out into a moonless night as thick as tar.

The digital on the dashboard read 2:00 a.m. There was such a lot of fuss made about moon-drenched dark but Eddie preferred the solid solitude of a perfect black where trees, asphalt and sky blended into one, where the head light's white beams sliced midnight like surgeon's steel. He could let his mind roam at will, listen to those "other voices", those "other rooms". That phrase had stuck in his mind the first time he'd heard it. Sheer poetry. Absolutely right. Soon, Eddie was moving along at the smooth, unbroken pace familiar to late night/early morning drivers. That was part of the lure of the night traveler, the uninterrupted darkness, the cushioned silence, the paths that stretched on forever.

"What's your name?" Eddie asked after a while.

"Violet."

She lied so transparently. Eddie laughed.

"And you like camellias, right?" he asked. "How's the cough?

Where's Armand?"

She looked at him. Really looked at him.

"You like opera?" she asked. "You like Verdi?"

"I watch a lot of Jeopardy on my nights off."

"Oh. Too bad."

"I wouldn't have picked you as a classical freak."

"I don't suppose you would." She dragged out her haughty, little queen act again and stared out the side window. Eddie's smile deepened. Holly Joy was wrong. Not too long ago, this had been someone's baby princess. Then she'd grown up like all the others and the corruption had set in. No wonder the unseen Ash felt the need to put her in her place. Women. They were all alike.

"Do you travel a lot?" the kid asked.

"More and more. Always looking for new territories. You got to stay alert in this business. Keep on your toes."

"Have you been through Dominion before?"

"Only twice. I found it by accident, just driving around. Do you know it's not on any map but there's an interstate exit. I can't believe it. Uncharted territory."

"So you're a salesman?"

"No."

The car was close with odor, a heavy, mossy cologne he'd noticed briefly back at the bar. It didn't dissipate with time.

"What's that scent you're wearing?" Eddie asked.

"Pere La Chaise. I . . . I'm sorry. I guess I was a little heavy with the hand." She actually seemed regretful. "Do you want me to roll the window down?"

"The handle's broken off. I've been meaning to get it fixed," Eddie lied easily, too. "Be sure and let me know where I'm supposed to turn."

Silence swelled out of her again. He knew she would be ready to talk soon. He didn't have long to wait.

"There's no where," the kid said. "I don't . . . I don't have any place to go. He didn't come back. He was supposed to come back."

She was tiny enough to sit cross-legged on the seat which she did, folding in on herself, covering her face with her hands. She didn't make much noise which was good because Eddie didn't like it when they were loud. Too much noise somehow lacked sincerity. Still, her shoulders jerked as if she was being beaten and that was sufficient. Eddie spotted an opening just ahead, signaled and turned into the deep of the woods. The car shuddered across the rough stretch of road and "Violet" raised her head, puzzled. Looked around. Looked at Eddie. She had such big eyes, such brown, long-lashed Bambi eyes.

The kid was smart, though, because she grabbed the door handle next and almost twisted it off in her fists. Eventually, it did come away in her hands. It always did. Eddie slowed to a crawl. The pot holes and ruts were murder on his tires and alignment.

First came the questions: "Where are you taking me? What's going on?" Then came the demands: "Stop the car. Let me out." Next came the cursing and the sobbing, a rancid litany of venom boiling out of her, a lanced-abscess of poison.

The first tool was fear. All according to ritual.

Eddie stopped the car far away from the highway turn off. He cut the motor but left the lights on, piercing the darkness. Inviolate.

Unblemished. Pure. Beside him, the kid lapsed into silence again punctuated by breathless hiccups she did her best to stifle. She swiped at her eyes with the back of a pale hand streaked black with mascara and liner. Waited.

"Do you have anything else to tell me?" Eddie asked.

"Please. Let me go."

"Is that all?"

"Don't . . . don't hurt me."

"That it?"

She nodded, chowing down on her lower lip and Eddie had to admit, in all his time on the road and all the others he had released, no one had moved him quite so much. Every little gesture, every temporal expression struck a responding chord in the pit of his soul. Each word, each sound was a provocation and a promise. And those eyes - remarkable. Maybe worth salvaging? No, that wasn't part of the ritual. He couldn't stray from the path. Eddie got out of the car, grabbed the kid's arm and pulled her out onto the road with him. She was stiff and tense with terror and fell out like a bundle of poorly accumulated kindling landing hard on her round, little ass. But she dragged herself together and leaned against the car, hovering between defiance and appeal, trying to stand upright on her own. Eddie gave her his friendliest smile and helped her get her balance. Her skin was cold beneath his touch. Was shock setting in already?

"What's your real name, kid?" Eddie asked. "You're no Violetta."

"Bel." Another gasp. A sniffle. "They call me Bel."

Eddie nodded. "Okay, Bel. Listen, I know you're scared and I understand. You've told me a lot about yourself tonight. I know who you are. Everything's going to be all right."

"You don't know me! I didn't --"

"I understand," Eddie repeated . "You've got a sharp and wicked tongue, Bel, but inside I know you've got a good heart."

And it was Eddie's mission to find it and set it free. This, he mused, could be one of the key achievements of his special vocation.

Already he could hear the voices singing in the back of his head, too excited now - unlike Eddie - to be lucid. Still, he sent them a silent prayer of thanks for leading him into such choice, new territory. Each visit to Dominion had been better than the last. After a hideously long, dry period, his future was suddenly ripe with potential. Humming himself, Eddie walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk. Bel took off down the road just like he knew she would although she ran faster in those obscene shoes than he would have ever guessed. She was still well within the headlights' halo when he brought out the Colt .22 Diamondback, took aim and fired -- low. He didn't want to hit anything important.

He made his way easily to the heap sprawled within the light. There was genuine pain in her voice as she rolled on the dirt and clutched the bloody wound in her calf.

"Move back to the car, Bel," Eddie said. "Now."

A kick got her started, buried deep in the ribs, raising her right off the ground. A series of kicks kept her on the path to the light. Eddie made another trip to the trunk, stripped down and chose an assortment of necessary odds and ends. When he returned, he fastened a pair of Peerless stainless steel handcuffs around the kid's wrists looping the short length over the front bumper. He didn't need the knife for the slashed t-shirt. That came apart in his hands. The bodice was another matter but he was careful as he worked its edge against the laces.

This would be a night of revelations. Eddie had suspected as much back at Ramona's when he first began to gauge the consummate, the unalterable corruption emanating from this infant bitch. Her depravity must have begun even earlier than most. Small platinum rings pierced each nipple and her body arched with pleasure when he touched them despite its agonies. The kid fought him like an animal, however, when he unfastened her belt and began to peel the slick material down over her hips. Eddie quickly discovered why. Shock struck him like a hammer. Rage pierced him like a blade.

He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it. How could he have erred like this? His voices taunted in a rush of volume, sniggering tongues reveling in his terrible mistake: "Macho sluts, Eddie. Chicks with dicks. Wrong game. Eddie loses. Big time."

He could have saved, should have saved the other. Why hadn't he seen it was a test? It was so obvious to him now. How could he have failed this badly?

Eddie's passion masked the Harley's roar as it snarled to a stop behind him. Ultimately, he noticed the additional flood of yellow-tainted light falling against his own pure white and turned - a heartbeat too late. The last thing he saw were the eyes, blazing scarlet, and the gaping maw -- the sharp teeth. Punishment was swift and final and Eddie's neck cracked loud when it broke. The sound was followed by a shriek of ripping metal as the bumper split apart. Stainless steel links snapped between two small fists. An anguished wail of rage and grief echoed in the dark.

"Merde - you ruined it! You always spoil everything!"

Ash growled, dripping.

"Shut up and feed!"

Bel did as he was told but he wasn't happy about it and sulked after the first rush of blood lust was sated.

"You know I get excited," Ash offered by way of apology. "I can't help it."

"He was my kill. Mine!"

"Said I was sorry." Then: "You okay?"

Bel lifted a thin shoulder. Let it fall. Licked a clot of blood from the back of his hand.

"You always rush everything. I never get to have any fun."

"Well, you were right about where to look. I was wrong," Ash admitted. "You can tell Tony we got him."

"I got him."

"Right. Okay."

"He'll be pleased." Bel allowed himself to preen a little, imagining.

"Sure. You did good."

"Thank. You." The voice, like the eyes, was glacial.

Ash took in a deep breath and let it out in a rush of frustration.

"Aw, come on, babe. Have a heart?"

After brief consideration, Bel did.

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