by Jen Blood
That was all it took to get her attention again. “What did he say?”
“Will you tell me who he is?”
“I don’t know who he is—I told you.”
“I think you’re lying.”
Outside the stall, I heard the bathroom door open.
“Please tell me,” Lisette whispered. She leaned in closer. “Please. I need to know.”
“Lizzie?” Wolf said, inside the bathroom now. “You in here? Everything all right?”
“Protect the girl,” I finally said to her. This time, even she couldn’t hide her reaction as I continued. “He said it’s the only thing you can do now—keep the girl safe.”
“Come out, Lizzie,” Wolf said. His voice was quiet, laden with tension. “Is that jackass in there with you?”
“He didn’t do anything,” Lisette called to him. She stood abruptly. “I told him to come in.”
I cleared my throat. There was really no way this was going to end well, whether I chose to man up or continued hiding out in the ladies room. Might as well at least preserve a little dignity. “We were just talking.”
Wolf pushed the door open so hard that it bounced off my knee. Lisette remained calm, looking at him with the kind of grace that seems to come easily to beautiful women.
“He didn’t do anything, Wolf,” she repeated.
“And you’re all right?”
She nodded. Wolf showed no signs of anger, but there was a sadness there that surprised me. He looked at me as he settled his massive hand at the small of Lisette’s back.
“Let’s go,” he said to her, ushering her toward the door before he turned his attention to me. “Tell Johnny I took Lizzie home. Then you should get your friend and get out of there. Johnny’s already got his sights set on her. It’s not a good idea, messing with him.”
I nodded, ashamed to realize I’d pretty much forgotten about Solomon. They started for the door, but I caught Lisette’s wrist before they could leave. “If you change your mind, this is how you can reach me.” I dug out my business card and pressed it into her hand. “It doesn’t matter what time, okay? Whatever you need, I’ll come.”
“Why don’t you wait for me in the car,” Wolf said. Lisette hesitated.
“He didn’t touch me, Wolf.”
“I just want to talk to him.”
She nodded unhappily. We left the restroom and I watched her make her way through the crowd. When she was out of sight, Wolf cast a considerably less forgiving eye on me.
“She’s having a hard time right now,” he said. “She doesn’t need some reporter hanging around, trying to make a buck off her pain.”
“That’s not what I’m doing. Whatever’s going on, she knows something about it. And it’s eating her up.” I tried another tack. “Look—I won’t stand here and hand you some bullshit line about me not caring about the story. I care about it. I want that byline. But it’s not the only thing I want, and I won’t put Lisette at risk to get it.”
“If she wants to talk to you, that’s her decision.”
“But she listens to you. Whatever’s going on between the two of you—”
“Shut up,” Wolf said. Any trace of reason was gone. He advanced until I was backed up against the wall. Behind us, below AC/DC’s “Back in Black,” a hush fell over the room. “Shut your mouth. I’m trying to be cool about this, but I’m telling you: back off.”
His face was two inches from mine, his jaw rigid. In my periphery, I saw Johnny and Solomon look up from the table. At the same time, the bartender and a couple of regulars—including Solomon’s boss—started toward us. I bit back a surge of temper myself, my eyes locked with Wolf’s.
“I don’t want any trouble here,” the bartender said. He put a tentative hand on Wolf’s bicep. A charged second passed before the former Marine finally nodded. He stepped back. I took a breath.
“I don’t want to see you around her again,” Wolf said to me.
“I’m not going to stop her if she comes to me,” I said. He took another step toward me.
The bartender shot me a glare. “Sit the fuck down, Diggs,” he said.
Wolf smiled thinly. “Yeah, Diggs. Sit the fuck down.”
I thought of the look on Lisette’s face when I’d told her the scarred man’s words.
There was something there—something big.
I turned my back on Wolf and started for the bar for a fresh pint, already well aware that there was no way in hell I was leaving this thing alone now.
◊◊◊◊◊
Buzz was nowhere in sight, and Johnny and Solomon were deep in conversation again by the time I returned to the table with a fresh beer. Lisette was supposedly Johnny’s girl, but it was hard to miss the way Wolf looked at the woman—or the way she looked at him. I doubted Johnny had even noticed. Short of the two of them stripping down and going at it on the table in front of him, though, I doubted Johnny noticed much.
“What was that about?” Solomon asked. She moved back a fraction of an inch, putting some space between her and Casanova.
“You were right,” I said to Johnny. “Lisette wasn’t feeling well. Wolf took her home. He didn’t seem to think you’d have a problem finding a ride.”
Johnny didn’t take his eyes from Solomon when he spoke. “No. I don’t think that will be a problem.”
A flush of pink ran from Solomon’s collarbone all the way to her cheeks. She might have been acting earlier, but I got the sense something had happened in my absence.
“Where did Buzz go?” I asked.
“He had to leave,” she said. “Said he’ll catch up with us later.”
Johnny’s hand slid below the table. At the way Solomon’s eyes widened, I had a good idea where it had landed. “I guess it’s just us, then,” he said.
I sat down heavily across from them. “Looks that way. So, what have you kids been talking about?”
“Johnny’s going to take me on a ride along,” Solomon said. She was still only half a beer into the night, but Solomon has never held her liquor well.
“I’m sorry—a what?” I asked. I slid the remainder of her beer to my side of the table and drained it in one long pull.
“Young Erin here says she’s interested in my trade,” Johnny said. “I told her so long as she keeps my name out of it, I’m happy to give her some background—a little flavor, lend some life to her articles.”
“I see,” I said.
An uncomfortable silence fell. I couldn’t tell what was happening beneath the table, but after a second or two Johnny’s face changed—a flash of pain, then anger, before the look vanished. He set his hand back on top of the table. Solomon caught my eye and smiled, just slightly. Rolled her eyes. So, she wasn’t completely under his spell.
“So, what did Lizzie have to say to you, Diggs?” Johnny asked, once he realized I wasn’t leaving. That vengeful spark I’d seen a second ago still lingered in his eyes. It was the kind of thing that could build quickly if Solomon or I added fuel to the fire.
“We were just talking—this and that,” I said. “I’m thinking about doing a story about African immigrants in the community. Lisette seems like a good place to start.”
“Not as good as you’d think,” he said. “She doesn’t move in that crowd. Prefers white meat, if you know what I mean. Some of them are like that.”
“’Them’?” I asked.
“You know.” Johnny waved vaguely. He flashed a smile at Solomon. “The niggers that’ve been sliding in here, muddying up the waters. Still, you can’t blame ‘em for wanting to get away, right? Friggin’ savages over there.”
The words were partly for show, partly to get a reaction, though I had no doubt they weren’t far from his true feelings. He’d have to work a little harder than that to get a rise, though—Solomon and I grew up in a fishing village where half the pickups in town sported the confederate flag and a gun rack in the back. Stupidity didn’t have much shock factor for either of us. I ignored him and moved on.
; “Has Lisette ever talked to you about her life over there? Before she came to the States?”
“I don’t ask, and she doesn’t tell. Some things are best left in the past.” Both Solomon and I remained silent in the hope that he might elaborate. He didn’t.
“What about Charlene?” Solomon asked. “Did you know anything about her background? Where she came from?”
“I don’t mix with the help, it’s bad for business. Doesn’t mean I’m not sorry about what happened, though. I’m not a monster.”
“Yeah, I can tell you’re pretty torn up,” I said.
He bristled. “You can’t tell shit. I treated Charlene just fine—gave her a roof over her head, let her stay at my place with her sister and her kid, paid her a hell of a lot more than she’d make working anywhere else in this town.”
“And yet she only worked for you for a few months,” Solomon said.
His jaw tightened. “Yeah. Well, that was her idea, not mine. The bitch always made me nervous, like she’d put a goddamn hex on me if I asked her to go a little above and beyond... Mary’s not like that. She keeps her mouth shut and her head down and does her job.”
“And the kid,” I said. “I don’t remember reading about her—is she Charlene’s, or her sister’s?”
“Charlene’s,” Johnny said. “She’s not bad, actually. Cute little thing. Lizzie’s really taken to her. I set them up in a little basement apartment at my place. You know the way the rest of those people live? Aunts and uncles and cousins and chickens living in the same one-room apartment. I gave them a hell of a lot more than that.”
“You’re a real humanitarian, Johnny,” I said.
He looked at me coolly. Anger, dark and dangerous, touched his eyes. “I don’t make any pretenses about what I am.” He turned his attention back to Solomon, clearly dismissing me with the move. “Now, what were we talking about, gorgeous? I actually have some places to be tonight, if you want to come along. There are some people I’d love to introduce you to.”
Solomon hesitated for a split second. Before she could nod her head—which I was dead certain she was about to do—I bolted out of my seat and grabbed her by the wrist.
“Can I talk to you?”
I didn’t wait for a response, all but dragging her from her seat, deaf to Johnny’s protests. I didn’t stop until we were halfway across the bar, backed into a shadowy corner in a cloud of beer fumes and cigarette smoke.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I demanded. The hand I had on her arm was far from gentle. She prickled, her jaw set as she squared off against me.
“What does it look like? I’m getting us an in with Johnny. You got your interview with Lisette—I’ve got this. Thanks for the cool reception when I walked in, incidentally. That really pushed Johnny’s buttons. It couldn’t have worked out better if we’d choreographed it.”
“You got a cool reception because you’re not supposed to be here. Do you have any idea who this guy is?”
“Yeah, I do,” she countered, green eyes flashing. “And believe me, I’m well aware that you didn’t want me here—you made that perfectly clear. If you don’t want me working on the story with you, you could have just said so. In the meantime, I found my own way into this.”
I could feel Johnny’s eyes on us all the way across the room. I took Solomon’s other arm, noting the warmth of her skin, the delicate bones beneath my hand. I pulled her closer. She stared up at me with wide eyes, fury gone for just a second. In its place was confusion.
“What are you doing?”
“Johnny’s watching. Keep your voice down.”
“So let him watch,” she said. She started to shake free of my grasp; I tightened my grip on her arms.
“Goddamn it, Diggs—”
“Listen to me,” I hissed. My tone got through, even if the words didn’t. She stilled, waiting for me to continue. “I’ll let you work with me on this, okay?”
“On the murder,” she clarified.
“On the murder. But you need to back off with Johnny. This isn’t a game you should be playing. You get in over your head with him and you could drown before I ever get to you, okay?”
She hesitated. Our eyes held. I was aware of the pounding of her heart—felt it against my body and in my ears; the weight of her hand on my arm; the heat coming from her.
“Okay, Solomon?” I pressed.
“You have to keep me in the loop on this thing. Any developments.”
“Any developments,” I promised.
“And what am I supposed to tell Johnny in the meantime?” she asked. She had that glare she does so well: lips pressed tight, head tilted, eyes hard.
“Let me handle it,” I said. This time, I was the one who hesitated. Across the room, Johnny got up from the table, still watching us. Rafferty and his cronies were also staring. “You trust me?” I asked.
She didn’t answer right away. I didn’t blame her—I wasn’t sure I trusted myself.
“Solomon?”
“I’m thinking.” She recanted at my glare. “Fine—yeah, I trust you.”
“Good. Okay.” Johnny moved closer, eyes still set on Solomon. Something about the claim the man had already staked on her made my blood chill. My hand slid up her slender neck, to the hard line of her jaw. A flicker of panic touched her eyes.
“What are you—?”
“You said you trust me.” Our eyes held. I watched the way her throat moved when she swallowed, and then I leaned down and touched my lips to hers. She was warm, her lips the sweetness of strawberries and the tang of beer and the promise of summer. When she tried to pull back, I held tight. Moved in closer, brushing my mouth against hers until she responded. Her lips were softer than I’d imagined them to be... And I had imagined them, I realized suddenly. I had imagined this. She nipped my bottom lip, her eyes wide open—watching me with a trace of wonder as I pulled back.
Johnny had finally halted his approach. He looked at me with what appeared to be grudging respect, tipped an imaginary hat, and headed for the door.
Solomon wet her lips and swallowed hard. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing a little too fast. I could understand; I was having the same reaction. “That was for Johnny’s benefit?” she said.
I nodded. Johnny was gone now, though, and I still couldn’t seem to let go of her. I brushed my thumb over her bottom lip. “Yeah. That was for Johnny’s benefit. It worked—he’s gone.”
“So that means I’m not getting lucky with a notorious drug dealer tonight?”
“No. Jesus.” I stepped back. Distance was definitely called for right now. “You were so concerned about my welfare last night, how about you not try to sex up the local bad boys on my watch. Christ.” I shook my head. “You were a lot easier to handle before you got—”
I stopped. She looked at me expectantly, eyebrows up. “Before I got...?”
“Older, Solomon. Before you got older.”
She scoffed. I turned my back on her and searched for the nearest exit. It was a shame we were leaving—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d needed a drink more.
Chapter 6
It was cool walking home that night, a misting rain falling over the city. Neither of us spoke much, but I could feel the warmth of Solomon’s arm against mine, along with the weight of a relationship moving in a direction I hadn’t expected and wasn’t prepared for.
“Stop freaking out,” Solomon said, a block from the house. “It was just a kiss.”
“I’m not freaking out.”
“Bullshit. You’re trying to figure out if you’ve tainted my virtue or crossed some mythical line you and I both know we crossed years ago—”
“Speak for yourself, kid. I never crossed any line.”
“Not that line, perv. The line where we spend all our time together and know each other’s darkest secrets. It was one kiss, Diggs.”
She was right, I knew. I frowned. Right as she might be, though, it didn’t really lessen my guilt. Or uncertainty. Or my inappropriate b
ut nevertheless undeniable arousal. The holy trinity of sex, American style.
“Okay,” she said. “So, let’s pretend you’re not thinking about that. What are you thinking about, then?”
“Lisette,” I lied.
Whether or not she believed me, she went along with it. “What did she say when you talked to her?”
“Not much. Her relationship with Charlene Dsengani went deeper than she’s letting on, though. She knows something about the ritual that killed her, too—she said this wouldn’t be the first sacrifice. That Charlene’s blood and organs were offered up to appease the gods.”
“She thinks they’ll kill again?”
“That’s what she said. And she definitely knew the guy on the pier.”
“Well, you’re right about that last one,” Solomon said definitively. I looked at her in surprise. She shrugged. “I wasn’t cozying up to Johnny for my health, you know. He doesn’t know our one-eyed man, but he said he could tell from the look on Lisette’s face that she must know him from somewhere. And Lisette might not admit to being besties with Charlene, but she’s close with the little girl. Johnny said he always got the sense they might’ve known each other before, but Lisette never said anything.”
“You got all that while I was sitting in a bathroom stall with Lisette?”
“I told you I’d make myself useful if you let me work the story with you. Maybe now you’ll believe me when I tell you I’m handy to have around.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, kid.”
◊◊◊◊◊
We were still a few blocks from home, walking Lincoln Park on the eastern end of Congress Street, when I became dimly aware of footsteps behind us. Solomon kept talking, recapping the bullets on everything we knew about Charlene Dsengani, but I tuned her out.
It was just shy of midnight, the park mostly deserted. Apart from a homeless guy on a bench beside the fountain, the place was empty. The footsteps behind us kept pace, far enough back that I had to strain to hear them.