Blue Smoke

pulled a scrap of paper out of her pocket. “I already wrote down my number. If you hadn’t asked for it, I was going to plant it on you while I was doing this.”
    She grabbed his shirt in both hands, gave a quick yank and rose onto her toes at the same time. The kiss was hot and promising.
    “Nice.” She rubbed her lips together. “You know, if something works between us, they’re going to hold it over our heads.”
    “Life’s full of risks.” He’d decided the eyebrow ring was sexy. “Maybe I could come in.”
    “Tempting, very tempting. But I think we’d better hold off on that.” She unlocked her door, backed in. “Call me.”
    He put her number in his pocket and was grinning as he walked out to his car.
    S ince he had the evening free, and no roommate to blare music, Josh sat down to write. He decided it would be fun to try to build a short story around the wedding.
    He wanted to get some of it down before the impressions—there were so many of them—got jumbled up or started to fade away.

    As much as he would’ve liked having Reena stay the night, he was sort of glad she’d gone home. Having the place to himself meant he could really think. Really work.
    He had most of a quick draft roughed out when the knock on the door interrupted him. With his mind still on the story, he went to answer. When he opened the door, he cocked his head in greeting. “Can I help you?”
    “Yeah, I’m from upstairs. Have you heard—See, there it is again.”
    Instinctively Josh glanced over his shoulder in the direction his visitor pointed. Pain exploded in his head, a red bloom over his eyes.
    The door was shut before he hit the floor.
Skinny kid. No trouble hauling his stupid ass into the bedroom. The sock full of quarters would leave a mark. Maybe they’d find it later. Leave him on the floor, so it looks like he hit his head falling out of bed.
    Keep it simple, keep it quick. Light the cigarette, wipe it clean, put it between the dumb fuck’s lips. Just in case. Get his prints on the pack, on some matches. Just in case. Now lay the burning cigarette on the bed, lay it on the sheets. Smolder good there. Add a little paper—College Joe’s school papers. Leave the pack of smokes, leave some matches.
    Go find a beer in the kitchen. Might as well have a drink while it starts.
    Nothing like watching a fire being born. Nothing in the world. Power is like a prime drug.
    The smoldering fire. The sneaky fire. Sly and cunning. Building, building, quiet and secret, toward that first flash of flame.
    Gloves on, take the battery out of the smoke detector. People are so careless. Just forget to replace the batteries. Damn shame.
    Kid could come to. Comes to, just smack him again.
    Hope he comes to. Come on, you skinny bastard, come around so I can hit you again.
    Hold it in, hold it down. Watch the smoke—sexy, silent, deadly. Smoke’s what gets them. Dazes them. Paper’s catching, there’s the flame.
    First flame’s the first power. Hear how it speaks, whispers. Watch how it moves, dances.
    Now the sheets. Good start, got a start. Drape the sheet down, over the asshole.
    Beautiful! Look at the colors of it. Gold and red, orange and yellow.
    Here’s how it looks: Lights up in bed, falls asleep. Smoke gets him, he tries to get out of bed, falls, hits his head. Fire takes him while he’s out.
    Bed’s going up. Pretty, isn’t that pretty? A little more paper won’t hurt. Get his shirt caught. That’s the way!
    Keep going, keep going. It takes so damn long. Drink some beer, keep your cool. Who knew a skinny bastard could burn that way? Carpet’s caught now—what you get for buying cheap!
    Toast, that’s what he is. Fucking toast. Smells like roasting pig.
    Better go. Hate to leave, miss the show. It’s so interesting to watch people crackle and melt while the fire eats them.
    But it’s time to say our good-byes to dumbass College Joe. Take it slow, take it easy. Check the hall. Too damn bad you can’t stay and watch, but gotta go. Stroll away, no hurry. Don’t look back. Nice and easy, got no worries.
    Drive away. Keep to the posted limits like any law-abiding son of a bitch.
    He’ll be crisp before they get to him.
    Now that’s entertainment.

7
    Bo woke with a hangover that rang like cathedral bells. He was face-down on a bed that smelled more like gym socks than sheets, and was just miserable enough to consider staying like that, breathing in the rank, for the rest of his natural life.
    It