by Martha Reed
“Give the kid a break, Fancy.” Frowning, Ken rattled his ice. “He can’t make you that. Besides, we don’t have any cognac.”
“Ignorance, Ken, honey,” she turned, “is no excuse.”
Tyler glared. “Who you calling ignorant?”
“Don’t mind her, kid. Give her a double Stoli on the rocks. She’ll be fine.”
“With extra lime. You do have limes somewhere, right?”
“Yes, I’ve got limes.” Tyler splashed a double shot of vodka over a handful of ice cubes. Squishing a quartered lime, he rudely plopped in into the glass. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Fancy delicately accepted the glass, taking a tentative sip. “Delicious! I only hope I don’t catch cooties offa this cotton picker.”
“Back at you, bitch.” Tyler snarled. “Hope I don’t catch an STD.”
The kitchen door swung open. Leslie backed into the dining room hunched over a heaping cheese plate and cracker tray. Gigi followed carrying a platter of sliced ham speared with glazed cherries and glistening pineapple chunks. Delilah balanced a chocolate layer cake in one hand and a stack of china dessert plates in the other.
Quickly setting down his drink, Ken trotted over. “Sweetheart? What are you doing? You’re supposed to be enjoying the party. I paid the caterers good money to do that.”
“We’ve already talked about this, Ken. You can’t just drink your dinner.” Leslie fluffed her damp bangs with the back of her hand. “Everyone? Supper’s on the table. Please, come help yourselves.”
Chapter Nine
“One minute, Maman.” Gigi pulled out an index card. “I wrote you a birthday song.”
“Oh, Gigi.” Leslie sighed with exasperation. “Make it quick. People need to eat.”
“It’s short. I promise. Ready, girls? Help me out.” Setting the key with a hum, she launched into a rich contralto, supported by her friends who followed her lead, swaying and clapping their hands like an old school gospel choir.
“Let’s take some time
To recognize what’s fine
In your life and in mine.
Happy birthday.
You held me up while I walked this path
Never looking back
Always holding fast.
Happy birthday.
You’re our rock, our roll
Always in control.
This families’ heart and soul.
Happy birthday.
And fifty years ain’t ... that ... old.”
Ken roared with laughter over the applause. “That’s saying it!”
“Oh, bebe. You are so sweet.” Leslie brushed away tears. “Thank you.”
Ken grabbed her hand. “One more minute - ”
“Stop it, Ken.” She mulishly pulled free. “You know I don’t like being the center of attention. That’s your job.”
“Too bad. Today it’s all about you.” He persisted. “Leslie? I have a confession to make. I wanted to take a minute, in front of our family and friends to admit that everything good in my life came about because of you.”
“Hey!” Gigi protested. “I resemble that remark.”
“Don’t interrupt me, Gee. This is tough enough to get through as it is.” Ken moistened his lips. “Leslie, we’ve had some rough patches, some tough times. I’m not an easy man to live with; I never was. That said, sweetheart, you’ve stuck with me through thick and thin, true blue. Sometimes I think I forget to tell you that. So, well, I got you this as a reminder of what you mean to me.” He fumbled with his pocket. “I don’t want you to ever think that I’m taking any bit of this grand life with you for granted.”
Pulling out a gilded red leather ring box, Ken snapped it open. Leslie gasped as the generous diamond solitaire caught the light and sent brilliant rainbows skating across the ceiling.
“Oh, Ken!” She pressed her hands to her heart. “Is it real?”
“Of course, it’s real.” He blustered. “I wouldn’t buy you a fake diamond.”
Her hand trembled as she reached for the ring box. Looking up, she stared into his eyes. “Ken? How on earth did you pay for this?”
“That’s none of your never mind. All you need to know is that it’s paid for and it’s yours.” Taking her right hand, he slipped the diamond onto her ring finger. It fit perfectly. “Like Gee said in her song, sweetheart, you are my rock, so I bought you this rock to prove it.”
“Oh, snap.” Gee groaned. “Dad humor at its absolute worst. Didn’t know he was gonna go there.”
“Ken, you didn’t need to do this.” Leslie’s shoulders softened. “You know you’re the only man I’ve ever loved and I’ve known that since I was fifteen years old.”
“Twenty years ago?” He winked.
Aunt Babette folded her arms. “Saw it with my own eyes. A true coup de foudre. She was watching him on TV. From the second he came on she was never the same. Love at first sight.”
“That’s enough from the both of you.” Leslie playfully pushed Ken, but she kept her eyes locked on her new ring. “Everyone, please, eat! I mean it.” She blindly waved her free hand at the buffet. “Eat. Eat!”
“That was adorable.” Delilah sighed. “Thirty years in and to still be so in love.” She caught Jane’s eye. “I hope I find that kind of love someday.”
“That’s nothing special.” Ryan’s arm brushed Jane’s elbow. “Known them all my life. They always talk like that.”
“Hey, Ryan. Zup?” Gigi strolled over, elegantly sipping champagne. “How you doin’? Haven’t seen you in months.”
“Been busy working.” He refused to meet Gee’s eyes.
“Whoops!” Delilah unexpectedly tottered. Clutching Jane’s arm, she threatened to spill out of her bustier. “Jane? I meant to ask: What do you do?”
She had a leggy spider tattooed on her left breast. Jane blinked. Is that a black widow? “Private security. You?”
“Me?” She giggled. “I own a shop in Jackson Square. Been there forever. Le Maison Grise. Sell essential oils, healing crystals, jewelry made by local artists, you know. I try to support our community as best I can. Oh! And I do Tarot card readings.”
“Dee gives great advice.” Gee knowingly smiled as she studied Jane over the rim of her crystal flute. “Dee? Not for nothing, girlfriend, but I think Jane needs some space.”
“Oh! Sorry!” She released Jane’s arm, smiling winsomely. “Jane, you should stop by sometime for a reading. First one’s on me.”
Voo-doo, hoo-doo. No, thank you. New Orleans’ gris-gris was one of the three things Jane had sworn to steer clear of in her newly adopted city. Vampirism and law enforcement were the other two. She flinched as Delilah suddenly grabbed her left hand. She shivered as Dee ran her pointed scarlet fingernail across her palm.
“You have fascinating lifelines.” Dee squinted. Cocking her head, she looked up. “What’s this dark secret you’re hiding from the world?”
Jane snatched her hand back. “There’s no dark secret. I’m a security guard. That’s it.”
“Girlfriend, please.” Dee scoffed. “You have an ‘M’ for mystery written in the center of your palm.”
“Jane’s plenty mysterious,” Ryan said. “That’s what I like about her.” He stretched out his hand. “What’s mine say?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Rolling her eyes, Delilah gave him her standing bitch face. “You’d need to make an appointment.” She smoothed her bustier. “It’s forty bucks.”
Jane’s trained senses flipped to high alert as Ryan’s jaw clenched. Quick! Change the subject. She rolled up on her toes. He’s about to blow. “Where did you and Gigi meet?”
“Where else?” Gigi laughed, raising her champagne flute in a toast. “Femme Du.”
“That’s our nickname for it.” Delilah dimpled. “Club Femme du Monde.”
Jane frowned. “Where’s that? On Bourbon Street?”
“Oh hell no.” Gee stated flatly. “The Quarter is only for drunks and tourists. Femme du is on Frenchmen near Washin
gton Square. That’s where the real people go.”
“Now that’s a place you should visit, Jane,” Dee agreed. “In NOLA, queer life is where it’s at. Let me know when you want to go. I’ll introduce you to the crew -”
BANG. Jane flinched so fiercely she cricked her neck. Cheryl Embry was stooping next to the couch, working to right a mahogany candle stand lying sideways on the floor. There was a nervous ripple of laughter from the party guests and more than one raised eyebrow. Okay. Jane thumbed the suddenly sore muscle behind her ear. I’m not the only one feeling jumpy.
“Ryan?” Pushing past an armchair, Cheryl hurried over. “Where’ve you been hiding, son?” Fingering her crucifix necklace, she lowered her voice. “You need to remember who these people are.”
“Sorry?” Delilah blinked her kohl-rimmed eyes. “What do you mean by, ‘these people’?”
“You know perfectly well what I meant.” Wincing, Cheryl crooked her fingers into quotes. “People who practice ‘alternative lifestyles’.”
“Hold it right there, sugar.” Fancy cut through the crowd, stripping off her mask. “I believe you’re talking about me, and I prefer that you say it to my face. Personally, honey, I love my alternative lifestyle.” She snapped her fingers. “I am free to be.”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Fancy.” Gee stated uncertainly. “It’s a birthday party not a debate.”
“Relax, chere mere.” Ryan thoughtfully rolled his beer bottle between both hands. “We were just talking -”
“That lifestyle goes against our faith, Ryan. It’s moral degeneracy and perversion.” Cheryl nervously plucked his sleeve. “I’ve been told that one’s a prostitute.”
“It’s called sex work.” Fancy glared. “And people got to live.”
“Sodomy is a sin.” Cheryl clutched her necklace. “And prostitution is against the law.”
“Honey!” Fancy crudely slapped her ass. “You can outlaw sex all you want, but it won’t make it any less popular!”
“Thankfully,” Cheryl blushed a deep cherry red, “we have a new president who will reset this country’s moral compass. It’s almost too late. End signs have been seen, almost daily.”
“Moral compass? Who you talking about?” Fancy’s eyes bulged. “Donald Trump?”
“I have every confidence in President Trump.” Cheryl stoutly raised her chin. “He’s going to make America great again before our nation degenerates any further and turns brown.”
Delilah choked.
“Jesus was brown, you do know that, right?” Fancy snapped. “Where the hell did he go in all of this?”
“Don’t you dare bring our blessed Savior into this sinful conversation!”
“I can remember,” Delilah interrupted, “waking up on November tenth and feeling like I woke up in an alternate universe, bizarro-world. Went to bed thinking we had voted in Hillary Clinton and woke up to find out we got Donald Trump.” She dropped her hands to her hips. “Seriously? Donald Trump? I can tell you it’s been a waking nightmare for the LGBTQ community and it’s only gonna get worse.”
“Things have gotten crazier since November,” Gee agreed. “Seems like we’re going backwards.” Setting her champagne flute down, she gestured like an airport marshal directing planes. “I thought we were all pushing one way, you know, forward, and now everyday it seems like we’re moving in the opposite direction, like somehow we’ve ended up over here.” Her forehead puckered. “I’m not sure how it happened.”
“It’s gonna get ugly.” Fancy warned. “Some girls I know have even started to carry.”
Delilah frowned uncertainly. “Carry what?”
“Baby nines, mostly.” Smoothing her blonde hair, Fancy gently explained. “It’s a gun, sugar. Nobody feels safe no more. We’re not even sure the cops are still on our side,” she rolled her eyes at Cheryl, “ever since the crazies been given permission to act.”
“Crazy?” Tyler’s barking laughter captured the crowd’s attention. Pressing both fists onto the table, he leaned forward, staring at Fancy, his eyes glazed. “Who you calling crazy, you ugly fucking bitch? You’re the one walking around with your dick taped to your leg. How’s that for crazy?”
“Ryan?” Ken quickly downed his drink. “Better take your friend home. He’s drunk.”
“And who you calling drunk, you washed up old fart?” Hefting a tequila bottle in one hand, Tyler sighted down his index finger. “Rock star, my ass.” He spat. Taking a belligerent swig, he flipped Ken the bird. “You’re not a has-been. You’re a fucking never was.”
“Shut the fuck up, you goddamned peckerwood!” Gigi crossed the room in three giant strides. “Don’t you dare call my father that!”
She launched over the makeshift bar. Tyler raised both arms defensively to fend her off, and the card table collapsed into a skittering wave of shattered bottles and crystal stemware that sped across the polished floor like a glass tsunami. Shrieking in panic, Leslie’s party guests stampeded for the door.
Chapter Ten
“And that is why,” Leslie calmly sipped her peppermint tea, “we never have big parties, in the Big House, anymore.”
“How’s Ken feeling this morning?” Stretching her right hamstring, Jane pressed the tread of her cheap sneaker against the splintery porch step. Her heart was hammering and sweat was rolling in sticky beads down her spine, but she had completed a full lap for the first time without stopping, not once. Acknowledge the small wins, her therapist had advised. That has to count for something, right? “How’s his wrist?”
“It’s not broken, only sprained. I wrapped it in an Ace bandage. He’ll survive. Ken can act like such a diva sometimes.” Reaching for the electric kettle, she refreshed her fine china cup. “Serves him right,” she added brutally. “He should know better. Ken’s too old for a bar fight brawl.”
She raised the kettle. “Jane? Would you like a cup? Some of these teas are herbal.” Pulling Delilah’s gift box across the wicker table’s glass top, she rifled through the slim paper packets. Choosing one envelope, she gave it a sniff. “This one’s valerian. It’ll help you sleep.”
Why not? Jane reached for the porch door. I need to grab a shower anyway. Might as well sit down for a few and cool off first. The shower suggestion pinged a reminder. “Hey, Leslie? Nothing urgent, but the shower needs to be snaked. That drain is super slow. I’m in water up to my ankles.”
“I’ll add it to the list,” she replied promptly. Her new diamond ring sparkled in the sun and twisting her hand, she admired it. “That Ken is such a rascal. I still can’t believe he bought me this.” She snorted. “Still won’t tell me where he got the money for it.”
“It’s a beauty.” Jane lifted the soggy teabag from her cup. “Where is Ken? He’s usually puttering around by the time I get back. He sleeping in?”
“No, he snuck out of the house at dawn. Being all mysterious again. Won’t tell me what he’s up to or where he’s going.” Leslie adjusted the wooly cobalt blue shawl draped around her shoulders. The December air was chilly. She sipped her tea, smiling serenely. “It’s his new big secret.”
“Aren’t you worried about that?”
“No. Maybe I’m blind and foolish, but I don’t need to know every single thing Ken does. Jane? Have you ever been in love?”
“Not like what I saw between the two of you last night.” Pressing the spent teabag against a spoon, Jane set it aside. “But I have hope.” She lied.
“I hope so for you, too.” Leslie rested her head on a cushion. “Love is the strangest thing, because the idea of it changes as you get older.” Setting her cup down, she linked her fingers, and stared at her hands. “When you’re young, you’re looking for that one special person; at least I know that’s what I did. But as I get older, as Ken so kindly reminded me last night, the more I think it grows out of caring for all of the people you live with or that you meet, day to day. It turns into being part of a bigger community, part of a bigger family, and that’s where our comfort is. Even
the people you work with figure into it somehow.”
Jane considered her world at Guardian Storage, of Calvin, and of all the new people she had met: Leslie and Ken, Ryan Embry, Gigi, Fancy and Delilah, even Aunt Babette. These people are making NOLA my new home. I’m starting to care for them. I’m building my new family. Flaming anxiety torched her esophagus. Doubling its grip, the PTSD trigger pinched off her air pipe. Relax. Jane forced her shoulders down. Crissakes! Relax! Rapidly flexing her fingers, she released the tension, acknowledging the fear. It’s normal to care for people. It’s human. It’s not a bad thing to feel emotion. I acknowledge that it’s uncomfortable. She admitted the full truth. It fucking hurts.
Leslie looked up. “That’s why I think it’s important that all of us spend time talking to each other, face-to-face like we’re doing now.” She dimpled. “It’s the only way to really get to know someone. I enjoy having my tea outside, most mornings. Feel free to stop by after your run anytime if you like. You’re more than welcome.”
“Thank you. I will.” Jane said, and she meant it. Her heartbeat had simmered down and her breathing had returned to nearly normal. She picked up her teacup. Warming her fingers on it, she sipped the bitter brew that curled her tongue before reaching for the clover honey. “Leslie? Why didn’t you tell me that Gigi was a man?”
“Because she’s not.” Leslie adjusted the striped cushion under her elbow. “My daughter is a transgender person. Gigi is female in a male gendered body.”
Is this really any of my business? Why should I care? Jane studied the sunrise warming the treetops as her ingrained investigative training niggled her unmercifully like a persistent redbug itch. Because this is who I am; This is what I do best. “Forgive the twenty questions. This is new to me. I’ve never run up against it before.”
“It’s natural to be curious, Jane, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Gigi’s gender is a fact that we live with, in this family, every day. Although,” Leslie quirked a gentle smile, “as you saw, it does tend to cause a ruckus.”