were demolishing a vast, double-headed phallus. Roulette noticed that a number of men in the crowd looked away each time a crowbar bit deep into the latex. To the west the Joker Moose Lodge Bagpipe Band was tuning up. The braying of the pipes sounded harsh in the still, sultry air.
"Are you the parade's grand master?" Roulette asked with more acid than she'd intended.
"No," Tachyon snapped back, and she found herself staring at his rigid back as he scanned the crowd.
A portly joker, his nose replaced by a long trunk ending in several tiny fingers, broke from the edges of the crowd like a calving iceberg, and chugged toward Tachyon.
"All set?" he asked, thrusting out a hand.
"All set. Des, may I introduce Roulette Brown-Roxbury. Roulette, Xavier Desmond, owner of the Funhouse, and one of Jokertown's most sterling citizens."
"Some would argue that that's an oxymoron."
"My, we're crabby today," Tachyon teased, with a touch of acid.
A look passed between the two men, and Roulette realized that theirs was a complex relationship. They were friends, they respected one another, but something lay between them, a memory of ancient pain.
This flash of cattiness had an unusual effect. Rather than strengthening her desire to kill the man it somehow made him all the more charming. He was not perfect, or even perfectly evil. Just "human," and therefore understandable, and she cursed the insight, for it is easier to hate in the abstract. Des glanced at his watch. "Running late as usual."
"I just hope delays and the heat don't conduce to any shall we say... incidents." He tugged on his upper lip. "I can't help but think of '76 when I see all these police."
"There was a strange feel on that day. Mercifully we've never felt it since."
"Well, I'd best mingle." He caught up both of Roulette's hands, and pressed a quick kiss onto each. "I will be back to collect you before we get under way."
"Are you sure I should be with you? Maybe we could just meet for lunch afterward, or something..." Her voice trailed away.
"No, no. I need the support."
"Difficult situation."
"I beg your pardon?" Roulette pulled her eyes from Tachyon's fast-vanishing form.
"If he doesn't take part in the parade he's accused of showing contempt for the jokers, and favoring the aces. When he does join in-which he's done for the past five years-he's accused of being a heartless parasite, living off the misery of the jokers he helped create. A little tin-plated king of his own freak kingdom."
Her eyes roved the park. Sno-cone vendors hawking through the crowd, police with sweat stains in the pits and front of shirts, Tachyon like a tiny redheaded, red-clad devil in the midst of a Dantesque scene as jokers doubled for demons. Just do the job, and get out of this. That was all she wanted now.
Somehow she had to pry him loose, seek the privacy of a hotel or apartment, and make the kill. She couldn't cut him out yet. His sense of duty would keep him in this freak parade, and he was a featured speaker at the tomb. Her thoughts propelled her, carried her across the park toward the Takisian, while behind her Des frowned over her abrupt departure. Perhaps a sudden indisposition? Stupid! All that would get her was a bed at the Jokertown clinic. Definitely the wrong bed. Perhaps a- Use your goddamn body! Most men's brains seemed to be lodged in their penises!
His welcoming smile embraced her. "Ah, I think you must be a telepath. I was just coming for you."
"Were you?" she heard herself reply, but the voice seemed to be coming from a long distance. "I hope you'll continue to come for me." Her arm slid around his neck, and molding her body to his, she pressed a kiss onto his mouth.
For an instant there was withdrawal. Had she overplayed the moment? Then their tongues met, and all restraint was swept away. His tongue teased, thrust past the barrier of her teeth. His hand, hot against the nape of her neck, pulled her closer. A chorus of appreciative catcalls rose around them, and they broke apart.
"Well," Tachyon gusted, and, pulling a handkerchief from a pocket, patted briskly at his forehead.
She snuggled in close, and pulled his arm through hers. "I was very sad earlier. You've changed all that, and I wanted to thank you."
"Madam... Roulette, thank me anytime you wish."
A chauffeur, tail lashing at the ankles of his boots, held open the door of a large gray Lincoln.
"Ah, Riggs,