Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone

me Eulie,« she said. »Walter.«
    »Euphonious indeed,« I said, and, still standing, bowed low to Big Girl. Didn’t imagine she’d let me kiss her hand. »My petit-four?«
    »Chlojo,« she rumbled.
    »Pardon?«
    »Chlo for Chloe,« Eulie said. »Jo for Josephine.« They gave each other a look, and nodded. »Chlojo.«
    »Music to my ears,« I said, judging that Eulie wasn’t the only one showing tell-tale traces of the woodpile. When it came to the colourbar Chlojo had hardly any coffee in the cream; but there was another story being told when it came to the superstructure. Impressed me that they seemed to feel so fancy free when it came to coming and going as they pleased. »Gals, my cat’s on its last life. You’d better fill me in on something …«
    »What?« Eulie asked.
    »Look, let me pledge my allegiance first. I’m no Royboy, there’s no tattletales here. The skin game leaves me cold and my sheets stay on the bed. But I can’t help but wonder about the bloodline I’m picking up on here. Tell me Big Momma, what boat’d Bigger Momma come over on?«
    Chlojo fisheyed me; then grinned, clam-happy to read the book without using the dictionary. Her teeth looked false but they also looked like they could bite through the Brooklyn phone book. »Jadish,« she said.
    »What?«
    »Swedish and Jamaican,« Little Mod explained.
    »Nice grouping,« I said; I can always spot the spots. Of course this was a talent anyone born to the colours knew in their bones: it was tricky to function in the modern world unless you could tell at first look how black white might really be. »I’m cool. Want to make sure you know you’re not the only ones with your hand in the tar.« They gave each other a quick corner look and then turned their gaze back to the main attraction. »You two on a diplomatic gig?«
    »Diplomatic?« Eulie asked.
    »I’d like to see the hotel clerk tell her no dogs need apply,« I said, pointing at Chlojo. She didn’t pick up my thread that time, though; she and Eulie just sat there staring at me like they were at a county fair and I was in a jar. Maybe I was off on the diplomatic guess; they didn’t seem especially American but they didn’t act like foreigners either, at least not from any of the countries I was familiar with.
    »Well, fill me in, ladies,« I went on. »Much as I like to let my imagination run wild I doubt you’re here to brush up on your orgy skills. What is on the menu anyway? Is this the appetizer or are we already having dessert?«
    »I’m sorry?« asked Eulie. »We’re dining?«
    »Nya, Eulie,« Chlo said, her big marble eyes shining like black suns. »Explicate presence. Detail.«
    I winked at Chlo, who may have been somewhat antisocial but at least seemed hep to the jive. Sad to say she didn’t wink back.
    »Have you experienced hallucinations lately?« Eulie asked, pulling her drumsticks up on the sofa and spreading them like she was keen to be stuffed. »What you believed to be hallucinations?«
    That was a difficult situation, my brothers. Try as I might to be gentlemanly, I couldn’t help sneaking peeks down between her legs to see what they were wearing in Tierra del Fuego. »Could be,« I said. »Depends on the produce.«
    She shook her head. »What’s meant?«
    »Business-class tickets out of Bittersville,« I said. »Mind masters only, got a cold war going with the bodybreakers. Can’t stand cokey joes, speedsters, redheads. Only junky I ever saw handle the stuff was Old Bill –«
    »Which drugs?« Eulie asked.
    »Psychedillies. LSD-25, 34, 65,« I said, and ran through the repertoire. »Mescaline and or peyote, fly agaric, ergine, ibogaine, yage, psyilocibin derivative and in the natural state, virola, so forth, so on. Then there’re the government beasts I test-market prior to distribution, DMT, STP, BZ, THL, VMC –«
    »Have you seen a specific vision?« she asked. »Two people?«
    »Stallion and mare?«
    Eulie blinked, and then her bulb lit. »Gendered accordingly, AO.«
    »Who’s asking?« An undesirable notion crept into my mind like a cat burglar and now it was my turn to shake with the whim-whams. What if Bennett was having a go at working the pimp side of the street? Could be he’d gone flakeola, and started up his own ops unbeknownst to Martin? That runaround always landed on the offbeat for somebody. Bennett couldn’t get me to do anything I hadn’t already done, but the way they lulled me into sociability made me tell these sisters in