Nightwork, page 12
A trace of the anger—anger born of fear—lashed out. “What do you take me for? We made a deal.”
Sebastien let Bluto walk and sniff, sniff and walk as he gazed out at the lake.
“Many who had made a deal would have taken this new one.”
“Then I’m not many.”
“No, cher, you’re not. He would not be pleased.”
“I get that. Nobody says no to him. I thought about agreeing, figuring we could fix it between us the way we said after, but fuck that, Sebastien. The only reason he wanted me here—no, two reasons—one to try to screw with me, and the other to screw over you.”
“You’re new, and interesting to him. A puzzle to him. He may contact you directly for another job.”
“Maybe I’ll take it, maybe I won’t. Will he pay what he agreed, and the way he agreed?”
“He will because there will be something else he wants to possess. You’re a rich man, my friend. And still, we go back to the Quarter, and I buy you a fine dinner.”
“Tell me one thing first. If it had been reversed, and he offered you the new deal. Would you have taken it?”
Sebastien looked him straight in the eye. “I would not, no. I would not. Friends are a precious thing. And me, I am not of the many. Now, we go feast.”
They walked the dog back to the car, and Sebastien sighed as he sat. “The woman? The red-haired woman? Ooh la la.”
CHAPTER NINE
By the time he turned nineteen, Silas spoke four languages, and had a rudimentary handle on Russian. Concerned by Tulane’s small campus, he shifted to online courses, and while he learned what he wanted to learn, he discovered he didn’t get any genuine buzz out of it.
He learned more from Sebastien about electronics and how to circumvent them, more from Jacques about computers and hacking than he did in any structured class.
He spaced out his nightwork, pacing himself, and spreading out from New Orleans up to Baton Rouge, over to New Iberia and Lafayette. Too much nightwork in one area gave the po-po, as Sebastien called them, too much to sniff at.
At Christmas he got a small tree, decorated it. He strung lights in the windows, and knew it was time to move on.
He spent part of Christmas Eve, happily for both of them, with Dauphine in bed.
While they lay lazily naked looking at the lights around the bedroom window, listening to the revelers still partying in the Quarter, she reached out to take his hand.
“When are you leaving?”
He didn’t pretend not to understand. “After Mardi Gras, I think. Mags wants to come back for it, and there’s no real hurry or anything.”
She sat up, shook her hair back. He liked watching the dark cloud of it shift and settle.
“My generous friend gives me these for Christmas.” She tapped one of the ruby drops at her ears. “But he doesn’t fall in love with me.”
“Promised not to. I love you, and that’s different. But it’s real.”
Leaning down, she gave him a light kiss. “I have a love for you, and always will.”
When she rolled out of bed, Silas sat up. “Do you have to go right now?”
“No. I’ve got a little bit of time before I go to Mama’s. You could come, you know. She loves you, too.”
“I’ll be there for Christmas breakfast. Then I’ve got Christmas dinner at Sebastien’s mother’s, which I’m warned lasts half the day and most of the night.”
He paused, regretting watching her dress. Still. “It’s good to have family at Christmas. I feel like I do here.”
“And that is always, too. Now, put your own clothes on. I have another gift for you.”
“Another. I still can’t believe you bought me new Chucks.”
“The others all but fall apart. You could spend some of your money on yourself, cher.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking about it.”
“Where’re you going when you leave?”
“I was going to head up to North Carolina and the university, but I think I’m just going east into Texas. Never been there. And Texas A&M’s as big as they get.”
“How much smarter do you need to be?”
“There’s always more to learn.”
“Like what you learn from Sebastien, from Jacques.”
“Yeah, that. Et de toi.”
She smiled at him as he pulled on jeans. “Not so skinny as you were.”
“I’m going to seriously miss the food here.”
“You’ll come back. I know this even without reading the cards. But we’ll go out, sit, and I’ll read them now.”
He stopped short in the act of dragging on a T-shirt. “You will?”
“You never ask me to read them for you.”
“Because you’re spooky at it.”
“Tonight, I’ll read them. No charge because it’s Christmas and a gift.” She pointed at him. “It’s rude to say no to a gift.”
He dragged the shirt on, thinking no, she didn’t always need the cards to read him.
He knew the routine, and sat to shuffle the cards she took out of her purse. He made the cuts, then watched as she laid out the spread.
“This doesn’t surprise me.” She tapped the central card representing him. “The Magician. Clever, creative. One who seeks new opportunities. You connect with the spiritual and material realms. You’re a man of the earth who knows there’s more. There’s power in you, so you seek the knowledge to use that power. And here is Strength crossing you. You see the woman with the lion—you have many women in your spread.”
“They can’t resist me.”
“So much of the strength in you—both courage and compassion—comes from the women who forged you. You’re fortunate in them, for you’ll need strength, the energy and kindness of it, on your journey. You know this inside yourself already.
“Above you, the Page of Pentacles. Youth, ambition, a desire for knowledge and for the journey that leads to finer things. He looks ahead, you see? Always ahead to what’s next. You won’t settle for some time to come. And here, below you, the Queen of Cauldrons, a woman of kindness and a giving spirit. Your mama here, cher, and Mags as well, who gave you the foundation.”
She looked at him with a smile in her eyes. With love in them—the sort that came from true friendship.
“If women are drawn to you, it’s not just your pretty face. I might have slept with you for your pretty face, but I wouldn’t love you as mon cher ami without the rest.”
“You helped change my life. Not just the French lessons and the sex. The friendship.” He took her hand. “I had good friends in Chicago, but I had to leave, and I don’t know if I’ll ever really reconnect with them. I will with you.”
“You will. I won’t allow it otherwise. Here, behind you is The Tower. Loss and trauma and grief. We know what this is for you, and while behind you, it’s always part of you. It’s part of the strength, the foundation, the heart of you.
“And before you, the Empress.”
“She looks rich. Do I sleep with her or steal from her? It’s a rule not to do both.”
“This is respect. But no, she symbolizes control here, a need to control your actions, and more your heart. You still don’t look for love—true and lasting. She is power again, and wiles. Material wealth, both the need and the achievement.”
“I like that part.”
“And still it’s not things you want, even a new pair of shoes. It’s the knowing you can have, and the loss behind you so influences what you see and need ahead. For now, it may be you need this guard on feelings. For here, this card is your feelings, for now.”
“Yeah, I never like that one. Death.”
“How many times do I tell you, this isn’t physical death, and in this spread, with these cards, this is your thoughts of loss—in the leaving—and the freedom in the leaving. The change, the end of this phase, the start of the next. No, you won’t settle for a time, and what comes soon won’t be the only change to come. The only end or beginning. You look ahead.”
She tapped the Page of Pentacles again.
“And here you have influences and surroundings. The Queen of Swords. This is, again, your caution, but also a woman to come. One you’ll hurt. Another kind of loss, and a parting. Trust won’t come easily after this, and neither forgets.”
Dauphine looked up at him, reminding Silas why he’d never asked her to read his cards. Spooky, he thought again. The spooky was all over her.
“Sometimes, we look ahead and don’t see what waits and wants right in front of us. Your journey takes you on and away—maybe to protect her or yourself, but the sword pierces hearts. A wound can strengthen as you’ve been strengthened by wounds. And they can harden. Take care, mon ami, not to harden.”
“I don’t want to hurt anybody. Sounds like bullshit coming from a thief, but—”
“Not from you. Here we have your wishes and goals. Pentacles again—a kind of coin, oui? The Nine shows a woman again, and she is content. A wish for that contentment, for accomplishments, fulfillments, and the ability to make it so. Wealth, yes—in the material and in the spirit. Luxury, for you, is that contentment and security. And it comes to the last card—the outcome.”
He saw The Lovers, and gave her a leering grin.
“This isn’t sex.” She wagged a finger at him. “Or not only. It can be love—real love—and unity—with deep emotion. But it also symbolizes loyalty and understanding, a choice to give those, to overcome something lost and embrace what is found.
“I think, cher, the Queen of Swords may come back to you, or you to her, then the choice will be for both of you. You have what you need—what was given to you through strong, loving women. You seek what you need on the journeys as you look ahead, start and finish, finish and start. And if you use all you have, all you gain, all you are, you’ll have what you need most at the end.”
He studied the cards, then Dauphine. “That wasn’t too spooky. In fact, it was a pretty awesome gift. Thanks.”
“It has one more part.”
She gathered the cards together, shuffled them, then spread them out. He’d seen her do this, too. Knew he’d pick one and she’d add it to the reading. Kind of a top off.
So he picked one, held it up to face her.
Her expression brought the spooky back.
“Jesus, which one is it?” He turned it around. “Okay, the Devil. That can’t be good.”
“This is an enemy. You choose your friends, your lovers. But an enemy chooses you. He is ruthless and cruel. Full of greed. If he tempts you, turn away. Don’t let him choose you, or he’ll scar you. He’ll take all you are and all you can have, so turn away.”
“No problem.”
“Promise me.” She grabbed his hand, gripped it hard. “Promise.”
“I do. Absolutely. No deal with the devil.”
Deliberately, she took the card, put it back in the deck. “Some don’t recognize the devil until the deal’s struck. Keep your eyes open, mon ami.”
When Mags came for Mardi Gras, he’d already packed most of his things.
Not that he had a lot to pack. It occurred to him he didn’t go for things so much because, right now, they’d just be more to pack when he needed to move on.
Mags had gone for electric-purple hair, which she wore straight as rain, with bangs. She should’ve looked weird. Instead, she looked fabulous.
And her bone-crushing hug felt like home.
“I think you’ve finally stopped growing. Six-three?”
“And a quarter. Yeah, I think I’ve topped out.”
“Now look at these.” She gave his right biceps a playful squeeze. “Getting ripped, pal. Even better, I see more happy here.” She tapped a finger to his cheek.
“Seeing you makes me happy.”
That earned him another hug. Then she nodded to the duffel in the corner. “You’re really leaving?”
“I’m sliding into Texas A&M in a couple weeks. A transfer for Lee Harrington from Florida State to be closer to my parents, since my father’s sick. I can handle the tuition, so why not jump in?”
“You’ve got it all worked out.”
“Yeah, everything’s set. New Orleans has been good for me, but I’m juiced to see what’s next.”
“Got a place to stay yet?” she asked as he carried her bags into the bedroom.
“I checked out some apartments online. Dorms wouldn’t work, but I can get a place near the campus. Huge campus.”
“I took a little detour on the way here to get a look. It’ll swallow you up.”
“That’s the plan. When you cruise through right, you don’t make waves. How about a walk before we meet Dauphine and Sebastien for dinner?”
“I’m in. Can’t wait to meet this Sebastien.”
* * *
He expected Mags and Sebastien to get along. He hadn’t expected them to Get Along. He didn’t know how to feel about the fact his aunt and the man he realized had become a kind of father figure actively flirted right in front of him.
And the dog—because of course Sebastien brought Bluto along—sat and gazed at Mags with adoring eyes.
It actually put him off his gumbo.
He tried to ignore it as the crowds grew thicker, the mood wilder, the music hotter. He snagged beads as he’d once snagged a foul ball at Wrigley. He sipped a little of Dauphine’s takeaway daiquiri—just not his drink—and went back to Coke.
He figured it was an experience of its own to be cold sober in a crowd of the tipsy and outright drunk. It marked his second Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and likely his last as an actual resident, so he wanted to embrace it.
It didn’t bother him when Mags and Sebastien started to dance. Lots of people danced—alone, in groups, whatever. Lots of foot stomping, shoulder and hip shaking going on.
Then the cheerful, wine-soaked boogie eased into an unmistakable Sexy Dance. Bodies rubbing, undulating, hands—God! Hands, hands! Worse, they were really good at it. Rhythmic, sensual, loose as water.
“My eyes. It’s burning my eyes.”
“Better close them then, doudou,” Dauphine suggested. “’Cause looks like they’re just getting started.”
She wasn’t wrong. He knew they both had moves. He’d grown up with Mags, and he’d been to fais-dodos at Sebastien’s mother’s place.
But seeing the two of them put those moves together—with each other—changed things. Worse, they drew their own little crowd, the kind that let out approving sexy noises and kept the time with hands or feet.
Mortifying.
Then they capped it, just capped it right off, ending the dance wrapped around each other like kudzu, and in a serious lip-lock that had the crowd whistling, cheering. When Dauphine joined in, he felt alone on a rocky island of shock.
Beads fell like rain, candy tumbled down like gold-wrapped hail.
And when Sebastien whispered something in Mags’s ear, she let out that big, crazy laugh. And pinched his ass.
It got worse when he lost sight of them. His own fault, he admitted, as he’d averted his eyes to keep them from bleeding during subsequent lip-locks.
“Where’d they go?” Panicked, sincerely panicked, he tried to laser his vison through the moving wall of people. “Where’d they go?”
Dauphine just shrugged. “Wherever they want. You got no worries, cher. She’s with Sebastien.”
“That’s my worry.”
With a laugh, she wrapped an arm around his waist. “Do you think a woman as full of life and passions as Mags doesn’t have sex?”
“I don’t think about it. I don’t have to think about it because she’s out west and it’s not in my face. This is in my face, with Sebastien.”
“Would you rather she snuggle up with a stranger to you, or someone you know?”
“That’s a trick question.” His height gave him a small advantage as he looked over the rolling waves of the human sea. “Shouldn’t I be able to spot that hair? It’s electrocuted purple.”
“Come, I’m going to buy you a walk-away wine, and one for me. Put your worries away, cher. Sebastien will see her home safe.”
Apparently home safe meant three-seventeen in the morning. Silas knew the exact time, as he heard Mags giggling—jeez, giggling—outside the apartment door, and Sebastien’s rumbling chuckle in response.
He heard nothing for the next several minutes, and willed himself not to imagine what happened in the silence.
He’d walked Dauphine home around two, then had done a solo search through the revelers before giving up and going home.
Where he’d sat or sprawled on the couch in a pair of sweat shorts. Waiting.
Finally Mags slipped in, shut the door. Shook back her disordered purple hair.
And spotted him.
She grinned, then widened her eyes.
“Uh-oh, did I miss curfew?”
“Funny. I was worried. You didn’t answer your phone.”
“Probably because I left it on the charger in the bedroom.” She went into the kitchen, poured herself a big glass of water. She brought it with her to sit in the chair across from him. Drank deep.
“Where’d you go anyway?”
“Oh, here and there. Got out of the crowd awhile, had a drink in a bar, listened to music. Did some dancing. Had some key lime pie.”
“You know, Sebastien has three—count ’em, three—ex-wives.”
She studied Silas over the rim of her glass as she drank again.
“And each one gave him a beautiful daughter. Are you worried he’ll want to make me number four, or I’ll want to make him my second ex-husband?”
“I just, you know, want you to know how it is.”
“Pal, I’ve known how it is since before you were born. Does that make you think I’m too old to have sex with a very interesting man?”
“No.” Not exactly.
“Good. I’m going to bed—what a night! Sebastien’s picking me up about noon tomorrow. He’s going to fix me lunch at his place and take me for a ride in his pirogue.”
“There are alligators. Actual alligators.”
“Looking forward to seeing one. Night,” she said as she walked into the bedroom and shut the door.
* * *
