Chapter Two

Just press it to your skin

And let the fun begin

The music in your throat will make you scream

(Jump, Little Children)

They had no trouble finding Vishal. He was exactly where Red thought he would be, behaving as if he were having the very best day of his life. His so-adored Neko Case hadn't even performed yet. Red stuck two fingers through the belt loops of the frayed denim cutoffs that he chose for Liz to wear, pulling her along closely as they approached The Horseman's misfit sibling. When Liz gently tried to extract his fingers, he allowed it.

She made the mistake of momentarily feeling victorious.

Red leaned in to whisper into her ear, "Remember Lizzie, we're together. Try not to look so repulsed."

Repulsed? Her actions may have suggested otherwise, but Liz was nowhere near repulsed. Maybe she shouldn't have taken Red up on that wine offer.

Before she could respond, Red shoved a hand into her back pocket, pulled her toward him, and crushed his lips against hers, effectively smothering her involuntary gasp. Instinctively, Liz brought one hand up to the nape up his neck, holding him hostage while she pressed her tongue between his lips. She felt him briefly tense before responding in kind.

Red couldn't help recalling the way he described Lizzie to Sam. "Volatile," he said. "Hard, then soft, then hard again." Anytime she felt like he may predict her actions or moods, she made a conscious decision to do the opposite. Sometimes, that made things difficult for Red.

This time? It just made things... hard.

When they broke apart, panting, Lizzie took both of Red's hands in hers, squeezing as hard as she could to ensure that she still had his full attention. They searched each other's faces, both suddenly desperate for discernable truth. Neither succeeded.

Only a few yards away, Vishal was watching them.

"Ready?" Liz asked, breaking the silence, but not the tension.

Red nodded. "Just follow my lead. And Lizzie?"

"Hm?"

"This moment... We'll need to discuss it later." His voice had plummeted to its lowest octave, and Liz could have sworn she felt the vibration of his vocal chords dancing in waves across her overheated skin. It was achingly erotic.

Did he already know that? Was he doing it on purpose? If so, what was his motive? Was he being sincere, or was it just another cheap manipulation?

She needs to stop trying to profile him. It was tempting, given the myriad inaccuracies in his dossier.

They stopped right beside Vishal, ignoring his presence at first, hoping they wouldn't scare him off. After several minutes, Red turned to face him. Vishal's eyes were all black. No iris. No cornea. Just dilated pupils. "Have you ever been to a Neko Case show? She's incredible." Liz smiled. It was the perfect "in" for a conversation. Vishal was all too happy to gush about all the reasons that she was the very best singer/songwriter ever.

Red managed to gradually redirect Vishal toward discussing his childhood, gathering bits and pieces of info in hopes of assembling them later. He made sure to chime in several times, proclaiming, "Oh my god. Me too!" both when it was true and even when it wasn't. Within minutes, Vishal happily proclaimed that Jack (Red's spontaneously-chosen cover name) was his "brother from another mother, man." Then he began to ramble again, this time about how every person is connected with every other person in the world. He added that all languages even sound the same. If only we knew how to listen properly, everyone would be fluent in everything. All people are connected to every plant, as well, because they fuel us with oxygen and consume the co2 that we exhale.

The very meaning of "tripping balls" was just redefined by this man.

A sudden, mischevious smile lit up Vishal's face. "I have something for you. It's something I love, and you'll love it too." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a chunk of folded up aluminum foil.

The hell? Lizzie looked up at Red, her eyes requesting answers. As Vishal carefully unfolded the foil and extracted what looked like a strip of tiny square-shaped stickers, Liz suddenly understood. He ripped off six squares and gave them to Red.

Acid.

Red canted his head in Liz's direction. "So, sweetheart, what do you say? Shall we?"

In response, Liz grabbed the paper from Red's hand, ripped off three hits, and stuck them under her tongue.

Red beamed. 'Volatile', he thought again. "Alrighty then. Let's do this."

Liz stuck her hand into Red's back pocket and squeezed. He smirked.

"If you can do it, Red, then surely I can too."

Was she talking about her hand in his pocket, or the acid?

Definitely both.

"So Red... Now what?"