“No,” said Jack. He took a deep breath, winced preemptivelyat his next question. “Hey, uh, you know where I could find a shovel?”
Boris paused, looked at him in disbelief. “Wait a minute. Are you gonna do what I think you’re gonna do?”
Jack glanced around. Finding the lobby empty, he admitted, “Maybe.”
An astonished guffaw rang out, so loud that Jack thought the lightbulbs might burst, that the people on the street might stop and stare inside. “You crazy motherfucker.” Boris’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Fuck. You’re really gonna mess with the mob?”
“I have to know what it is,” Jack insisted, even as his stomach soured.
“You’re prepared to find a body?” A blond eyebrow raised. “You sure about that?”
“As sure as I can be.”
Perfect, white teeth flashed. “Ballsy. I like you.”
“Uh, thanks, I think.”
“You’re really ready to find a fucking body? In the woods? At night?”
“I don’t have a choice,” groaned Jack. “It’s—I think I’m cursed, and the body is the only way to break it.”
Silence. Boris cocked his head. “You’re what now?”
“Um, cursed.”
“Uh-huh. You were serious about that.”
“Unfortunately.”
“And why, uh, do you think that is?”
“I-I can’t explain. I just think that if I can identify this body, I won’t be cursed anymore.”
“Didyoukill them?” said Boris, palms flat on the desk, eyes narrowed.
“No!” Jack exclaimed. “Fuck no. I’ve only been here one night. Of course I didn’t.”
“By that logic, it’s also kind of weird that youfounda body.”
“Yeah, I know. Listen, I know it sounds crazy, but I can’tleave this place, and I can’t figure out why. I think if I identify the body?—”
“Wait,” said Boris, holding up a hand. “You can’t leave? You sure about that? I feel like I’ve seen you walk out that door like three or four times today.”
“I can’t leave town,” Jack explained, gesturing toward the window.
“That’s weird.” Boris stretched his arms out in front of him, and without looking at Jack, cracked his knuckles. A bad habit more than a threat. But Boris was big enough and crazy enough that it felt like a warning, regardless. “I feel like that’s pretty easy to do.”
“For most people, maybe,” Jack groused, tapping his foot. “Whenever I try, it doesn’t work.”
“What, like you get zapped back into the city limits?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“That’s fucked,” said Boris appreciatively. “You a writer?”
“Not really,” said Jack. He’d dabbled, but wasn’t very good, nor was he patient enough. “I’m actually just a secretary.”
“Huh,” said Boris, spinning a pen between his fingers. “You look like a traveling salesman.”
