“Damn, john,” the Abyssinian-looking head said. “Names cost extra.”
“Well, I ain’t paying anything, so charge me double,” I said, which elicited some laughs from the decapitees.
“I don’t mind,” Brigid said. “It’s kind of sweet, a john giving a squirt about your name.”
“So, Brigid, I’m looking for—”
“Why don’t we head someplace more private?” she asked.
“Oh, sure.” I gingerly grabbed her by her brunette locks. I started to head up to the suites, but almost everyone in the room, body-free or not, started laughing at me.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Brigid, or Brigid’s head at least, asked.
“Oh, right,” I said, again afraid that if I hadn’t been utterly exsanguinated by lying in a pool with a gunshot wound, I would’ve been blushing like a schoolboy. “Which body’s yours?”
“Don’t
