Coyote blue

bitch?"
    Cheryl got up from the bed and pulled on a pair of leather pants. Lonnie could see her hipbones and shoulder blades pushing against her pale skin as if they would poke through any second.
    "You're always thinking of her. Never me. What the hell is wrong with me?"
    She turned to face him and he stared at her breasts lying like flaps against her ribs. She pulled back her lips in a snarl and Lonnie knew his face had betrayed him. "Fucking asshole," she said, pulling on a black Harley-Davidson T-shirt.
    "It's not her, it's the kid. He's my kid. I have to watch him when she goes to work."
    "Bullshit. Then why won't you fuck me?" She tossed her head and her long black hair fell into her face like seaweed on the drowned.
    Because you look like you just escaped from fucking Auschwitz , Lonnie thought. He'd been with Cheryl for three months and had never seen her eat. As far as he could figure she lived on speed, come, and Pepsi. He said, "I worry about the kid."
    "Then get custody. I can take care of him. I'd make a good mother."
    "Right."
    "You don't think so? You think that vegetarian bitch is a better mother than me?"
    "No…"
    "You start treating me right or I'm gone." Cheryl took a purse from the floor and began digging in it. "Where the fuck is my stash?" She threw the purse aside and stormed out of the room.
    Lonnie followed her, carrying the denim vest sporting the Guild's colors. "I've got to go," he said.
    Cheryl was dumping a bindle of white powder into a can of Pepsi. "Bring back some crank," she said.
    As Lonnie walked out she added, "Tink called while you were sleeping. He said to tell you he took care of things."
    Outside Lonnie fired up his Harley and pulled out into the street. Tinker's news should have cheered him up, but it didn't. He felt empty, like he needed to get fucked up. He always felt that way lately. At one time being a brother in the Guild, being accepted for who he was, had been enough. Having all the women and drugs and money and power he needed had been enough. But since Grubb was born he felt like he was supposed to be doing something, and he didn't know what it was.
    Maybe the bitch is right , he thought. As long as the kid tied him to Calliope he was going to feel shitty. It was time to feel good again.
    ~* * *~
    Frank Cochran, the cofounder of Motion Marine, Inc., had spent most of the morning in his office milling over the bane of his existence: the human factor. Frank loved organization, routine, and predictability. He liked his life to be linear, moving forward from event to event without the nasty backtracking caused by surprises. The human factor was his name for the variable of unpredictability that was added to the equation of life by human beings. Today, the human factor was represented by his partner, Jim Cable, who was in the hospital after being attacked by an Indian.
    Frank's thinking went thus: If Jim dies there'll be insurance hassles, legal battles with the family, and someone will have to comfort Jim's mistress. But if Jim lives – maybe Jim's mistress should be comforted anyway…
    His train of thought was broken by the buzz of the intercom on his desk. "Mr. Cochran," his secretary said, "there's a man from NARC here to see you."
    "I don't have any appointments until after lunch, do I?"
    The office door burst open and Cochran looked up to see an Indian in black buckskins striding toward him. His secretary was shouting protests from her desk.
    Cochran spoke into the intercom, "Stella, do I have an appointment with this man?"
    "Native American Reform Coalition," Coyote said. "I understand that some insurance agent is taking credit for what happened to your partner."
    Cochran had a very bad feeling about this. "Look, I don't know who you are, but I don't like surprises."
    "Then this is going to be a very bad day for you." Coyote slammed the door behind him. "A very bad day." The trickster extended his right hand. "Nice to meet you."
    Cochran watched in horror as the Indian's hand began to sprout fur and claws.

Chapter 20 – Nevermore Santa
    Barbara
    When Sam walked into his office Gabriella met him with a cup of coffee. "Mr. Hunter, I'd like to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I don't know what came over me."
    "That's okay. I do."
    "I hope you were able to resolve the difficulties at the Cliffs."
    Sam wasn't prepared for civility from Gabriella; it was like encountering a polite scorpion. Life was changing before his eyes. "Everything's fine. Any