74. Hot Tamales (They're Red Hot)

We were above the clouds by the time the sirens sounded. I had no idea where Ms Cansino had taken Uriel. It would have been interesting to see what the DC Police made of the crime scene. I didn’t doubt The Redhead had persuaded Uriel to take the TV footage with them to wherever they went. I assumed it would be a hot-sheet motel. Maybe Rita would tear up a pillow to account for all the feathers in the room when Uriel fell. I wondered if she had taken La Divina Sofia with them, just to make sure. No doubt the loss of Uriel’s innocence and wings would be talked of throughout the 7 Heavens for as long as those of Azazael and J-Rod.

The four of us; TAFKAG, Mr D, Lilith and I were flying west-north-west. It was no surprise that the Lord of Hosts was coming quietly. Apart from the singing, that is. Bob J’s Hot Tamales ain’t so red hot after 10 minutes, never mind the three hours it was going to take to get to what I guessed was our destination. It was Lilith I couldn’t work out. She could have flown off anywhere, laid low and come up with some kidnapping story. As long as the TV footage never surfaced. Maybe she was hoping for a deal. With the Devil.

I shouted over to Mr D. ‘Hey, sounds like you got some of the not-so-great tunes too.’

‘I never taught him that song. Tamales, for badness’ sake!’

Lilith spoke up, ‘I did.’

‘What?’

‘Yep, who do you think was the woman he didn’t have?’

Mr D sighed, ‘Lilith, just behave.’

TAFKAG never did quit with the Tamales. It was a long three hours to Mount Rushmore.

I was the only one who stumbled on landing. The former Jehovah was hovering over the ground and the singing had stopped at last. Mr D laughed,

‘First thing I did when I was cast down. Redesigned my knees.’

I looked over at Lilith, ‘What about you?’

‘I looked after mine, I don’t fly much.’

We were on flat terrain up on the bluff. The presidential heads were below us.

Mr D clicked his fingers. A large round table with a gingham cloth and two chianti bottles acting as candle holders appeared. There were four chairs and we all sat down, even TAFKAG, eventually. The Master of Reality clicked those fingers again and there was food and wine. Linguini and Frascati.

‘Let’s eat. Then we’ll do the deal. Those made guys know how to do these things, huh?’