Love Power

by Martha Reed

  “Hey, Jane.”

  Ryan stood framed in the doorway, his face and shoulders lit golden by the overhead bug light. Jane noticed that in her new heels she could look at him dead on, eye to eye. He sported a new haircut now, too, super mod, his hair left longer on top but trimmed tight to the sides like Chris Martin from Cold Play. His neatly pressed dress shirt collar was open and he was wearing a silver Mercury dime on a black cord around his neck. Studying her, his eyes widened.

  “You look great, Jane! That a new dress?”

  “It is.” She nervously ran a hand over her exposed collarbones to check her bra straps.

  “Looks nice.” He extended a tissue paper wrapped bouquet of mixed roses and stared at his feet. “My mom insisted I bring you these.” He mumbled. “She’s old school that way.”

  “I’ll put them in water.” Oh, crap. Jane swallowed. Housekeeping failure number 1001. Stepping into the kitchen, she placed the flowers in the sink. Do I even own a vase?

  “Your place looks nice. Cozy.” Reaching down, he scratched Mr. Piddle’s ears. “How you doin’, buddy?” Straightening, he awkwardly folded his arms. “I wasn’t sure if we should still go out, you know, with Fancy being dead and all, but then I thought Fancy’d be the last one to miss out on a date. Know what I mean?”

  “I do,” Jane replied, distractedly. “You’re right.” She started opening and closing the pantry doors, searching for anything that might hold the bouquet. Woman is a tool-making animal, girlfriend. Find something, quick.

  A random piece of Mr. Piddle’s kibble crunched underfoot as Ryan stepped into the cramped kitchen. “Jane? You okay?”

  She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. “Yes, I am. I’m sorry, Ryan. I don’t have a vase for these flowers.”

  “Use this.” Reaching past, he lifted a dusty Mason quart jar off a shelf. Tipping the dried dead spider out of it into the trashcan, he turned the tap on and filled it with fresh water. “I didn’t mean to make you more work.”

  “I’m not much of a housekeeper.” Jane flushed. Ryan stood so close that she felt his body heat radiating off of him in waves.

  “I’m not looking for one.” He flicked the water droplets from his fingers. “You’ve met my mother. Happiest day of her life was the day she brought home plastic slipcovers and zip locked her furniture inside Baggies.”

  Setting the Mason jar on the counter, he reached out his hand and gently raised Jane’s chin to meet his eyes. She felt the rough scratch from the callous on his fingertips.

  “I’m not looking for that kind of girl, Jane. You should know that.”

  His eyes were a clear and bottomless blue. Jane felt an electric thrill tickle her core in the very same instant she heard the protesting voice in her mind. I’m not a girl, Ryan. I’m a woman. She bit back her retort. Don’t be so critical! He’s trying to be nice. Give the guy a decent chance.

  Ryan pulled back, cocking his head, and Jane caught the spark of self-deprecating humor in his eyes. Stuffing the roses into the Mason jar, he set them on the counter.

  “Dating you is like dating Cinderella.” He whispered as she walked by. “We should get going if I need to get you home by nine.”

  “It’s only fair.” Slipping into her jacket, Jane patted her pockets to make sure she had her iPhone and her wallet. “I need to give Biggie a chance to pee before my shift starts.”

  Locking the door, she followed Ryan toward the van, stuffing her hands in her pockets and considering the god-awful brown and orange Guardian Storage uniform waiting for her upstairs. “After ten I turn back into a pumpkin.”

  “I’ve admired you in that uniform.”

  “You have? When did you see me wearing it?”

  Ryan laughed uncertainly as he politely held the passenger door open. “We cross paths. I see you on your way to work when I’m coming home. What color is that supposed to be anyway? Shitty brown?” Stepping aside, he waited for Jane to climb in. “Don’t mind the van. Delta gives me a solid allowance for gas and mileage. Be a shame to waste it.”

  “Beats taking the bus.” Jane agreed, cocking her thumb at the refurbished shed. “We could always take my bike.”

  “I’d do that.” Ryan scanned the night sky. “Only because it would give me an excuse to grab onto you, but it might rain. I’d hate for you to ruin that pretty dress.”

  “I’m good with the van.” Jane climbed in. Resting both hands limply in her lap, she felt ruffled by irritation as Ryan shut the door. I know he’s being a Southern gentleman, but I hate feeling passive. Who made this stupid rule up?

  Using the side mirror, she watched Ryan circle the rear bumper as she settled in. The van smelled like male funk, burnt hair, and Windex. Give him credit. He tried cleaning it up. An unidentified metal bar started prodding her kidneys and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. This van would make the perfect covert cover. No one notices a Delta Power van parked on the street.

  Reaching for the seatbelt buckle, her fingers brushed a mound of crumpled paper receipts. Pushing aside a Guardian Storage business card, she studied a red and yellow cardboard box tucked into the center console. Bengal Tiger Military Classic AK ammo? Steel jacketed hollow point, 124 grains. Jane sat back. Cop killers. What’s Ryan doing with these?

  Opening his door, he caught her stare. “Sorry about that.” The ammo box rattled as he slipped it under his seat. “Carrying those for a buddy of mine.”

  “With an AK-47? Assault rifles are banned in Massachusetts.”

  He clambered in. “This is Louisiana. We fight for our rights.”

  Let it go. Jane briskly rubbed her arms. He’s not doing anything wrong. Stop playing detective and enjoy yourself. This is supposed to be a date!

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ryan lightly rested his hand on her headrest as he backed the van onto St. Claude Avenue. “Jane? Do me a solid? Tyler lost his security badge; he thinks on Saturday night. If you see it lying around, will you snag it for him? Delta’s gonna tag him sixty-five bucks to replace it if he don’t find it by Friday.”

  “Of course.” She agreed. “Hey, sixty-five bucks is sixty-five bucks.”

  “That’s what I say.” Crows’ feet circled Ryan’s eyes as he smiled. “It’d cover more than a couple of cases of good beer.”

  Jane unzipped her jacket. The heater was blasting and the van was uncomfortably warm. “Saturday night was insane. How’s Tyler doing?”

  “Gee loosened his front teeth, but he’ll survive.” Ryan turned right on Lesseps Street. “We might meet up for a beer later.” Turning his head, he waggled his eyebrows. “Unless you decide to call off sick and we extend our date.”

  “Can’t afford to do that.” Jane quickly defused his suggestion. “No paid sick leave. S’weird to think that Saturday was the night Fancy got killed. Already feels like a lifetime ago. It’s only been four days.”

  Ryan shrugged casually. “Fancy liked living on the edge. Something bad was bound to happen to her, sooner or later.”

  Jane recalled the shattered human horror displayed on the autopsy table. “No one deserves what happened to her, Ryan. I don’t care what kind of fucking lifestyle she was living.” Folding her arms, Jane stared out the window into the night. Her ghostly reflection stared back and she felt the steely edge of the guilt and questioning uncertainty she lived with every day. If no one deserves to die then how do I justify killing Mason Hollister? Leaning hard on her resolve, the answer came to her like the tolling of a distant channel buoy. Hollister was a monster, enabled because he had unlimited power and money. He deserved every bit of what he got. Inhaling a shuddering breath, Jane owned it. He deserved the death I gave him. I sent him straight to Hell where he belongs.

  Finding an open spot at the curb, Ryan masterfully parallel parked. Leaning over, he shut off the van. The engine started ticking as it cooled. His forehead puckered with concern. “Chere Mere said you had more trouble at work?”

  “We did. My boss got killed last night. I found him.”<
br />
  “Shit, Jane, are you alright?” Ryan gaped. “I didn’t know! We could’ve done this another time.”

  “I didn’t want to do that.” She answered hurriedly. “I gave it a lot of thought. I know it sounds cold, but all I wanted to do was something normal.”

  “Sounds like you need to find someplace different to work.” Ryan rested his forearms on the steering wheel. “Someplace safer than Guardian Storage.”

  “It’s safe enough,” she replied grimly. “I’ve got NOPD on speed dial.”

  “Two murders in one week? What do the po-po say’s going on?”

  Jane hesitated. She had repeatedly stated her hate crime theory to Dupree at their interview that morning. “They’re investigating. Plus one of my co-workers, Cal is missing.”

  “They’re thinking it’s three people now? Got any suspects?”

  “It’s not like Dupree’s going to share any real intel with me.” She temporized as the December chill started seeping through the van’s steel walls. “I’m not a cop.”

  “Shit happens though, Jane, right? Life goes on?”

  “Yes.” She agreed slowly. “Life goes on. And we get left behind to deal with it.”

  “You sound so sad, Jane. Depressed. Sounds like you’ve been through it.” Unbuckling his seatbelt, Ryan shifted sideways. “You don’t need to hold back with me. I can take it. I want us to be friends, good friends.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “My ex was a bitch.” He gestured a denial with both hands. “But I can already tell you’re not like her, not one bit. You’re something different, something special. I think we could be good for each other.”

  Jane stopped twining her fingers. Don’t be such a coward. He’s just sharing his feelings. She nerved herself to look up again. Ryan was sharing his adorably winning grin, but his words had sounded insincere to her ears and his smile seemed pasted on. She couldn’t find any genuine warmth or connection in it. Is it me? Or him? Jane felt gripped by distrust. Why do I feel like I’m being groomed, like Ryan’s memorized a script?

  “Let’s see how it goes.”

  “O-kay.” Opening his door, Ryan stepped into the street, drawling the word into two syllables. “Slow and steady wins the race.”

  Leaving the van, he looked surprised to see her already standing on the sidewalk.

  “I would’ve gotten your door,” he stated uncertainly, politely offering Jane his arm.

  “I’m still learning this Southern charm thing.” Jane grasped it hesitantly, letting Ryan lead her up the slanted sidewalk to the familiar side door.

  “Damn, Jane. Any man here would be proud to be seen walking into The Deuce with you.”

  As he thumbed the entry button, Ryan smiled, looking odd with one half of his face lit red and the other half lit blue from the neon commercial beer sign hanging in the window.

  “This neighborhood’s called the Bar-Muda Triangle.” He joked. “Between Vaughn’s, BJ’s Lounge and Bacchanal, but The Deuce gets my vote for the best blues music in town hands down, every damn time.”

  “I agree.”

  The door buzzed and he pulled it open. “You’ve been here before?”

  An explosion of light, heat, laughter and the rising notes from a heartfelt alto sax spilled into the street. This is more like it. Jane immediately felt her spirit rise to match the brassy snappy beat.

  “Girlfriend!” Adele swooped over shouldering a tray littered with tipped shot glasses and empty beer bottles. “Where have you been? Haven’t seen you in months! Cute dress!” Adele’s grin showcased her platinum grill. “Who’s this handsome fellow you’ve got with you?”

  “Ryan Embry.” He bowed gallantly. “It’s our first date. Won’t be the last.”

  Adele slid the tray onto the corner bar. “Who’s paying?”

  “I am.”

  “Sugar daddy! He’s a keeper.” She winked, scanning the room. “I’m going to sit you two at one of my tables. Follow me.”

  “You already like this place, Jane?” Ryan looked pleased. “Then it was a good pick.”

  Adele pulled out her notepad. “What can I brang you to drink?”

  “Got Covington Amber?”

  “Sure do. On tap.”

  “Bring me a tall one of those. Jane? How ‘bout you?”

  “Club soda and lime, please, Adele.”

  “Really?” Ryan raised an eyebrow. “One beer won’t hurt you. Call it barley soup.”

  “No, I can’t go to work with beer breath.”

  “I have mints,” Adele offered.

  “Club soda and lime, please, Adele. Like I said.”

  “Laissez le bon temps, girlfriend.” Adele scribbled a note. “One tall Covington with a ‘why bother.’” She cocked her hip. “Chef’s special tonight is all-you-can-eat frog’s legs. Big fat bullfrogs, too. Saw them getting prepped in the kitchen. Lots of meat.”

  Hot bile splashed the back of Jane’s throat. Her tongue suddenly felt thick and her gorge rose at the thought of chewing on amphibian. “Oh hell, no.”

  Ryan scooted closer. “You should try them, Jane. They’re good. Some folks like eating frog better than eating chicken.”

  “I’m not that kind of folk.” What else have they got? Jane scanned the menu looking for another choice.

  Adele hesitated. “Need a few minutes?”

  “I’m ready.” Folding his menu, Ryan possessively cocked his thumb. “She’s got me on a schedule. I’ll take the alligator tail. Jane? What’ll you have?”

  Tall beer with fried alligator tail? Give me heartburn for a month. “Shrimp and grits, please, Adele. Thanks.”

  “Coming up.” She pointed her pen. “I’ll make sure you get extra gravy, lagniappe.”

  “What?” Ryan caught Jane’s eye. “You some kind of vegetarian? You don’t eat alligator, neither?”

  “Alligator’s a reptile, Ryan. Same thing as eating snake.”

  “Snake’s delicious!” Playful humor danced in his eyes. “Tastes just like chicken.”

  “Seriously, dude? Are you fucking with me?” Jane rested her palms on the table. “If you say that one more time I won’t be able to eat chicken again either!”

  He howled with laughter.

  “Of course, I’m fucking with you, Jane! Eat whatever the fuck you want. It’s a free country.” He smacked his lips appreciatively as Adele returned with their drinks, raising his beer in a toast. “Chin, chin. Here’s to our first date! I’m having fun already.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sipping his beer, Ryan studied Jane steadily over his glass. She could see that he was thinking.

  “What?” She asked.

  His cold glass left a condensation ring on the table. Pointing his finger, Ryan drew a complicated crosshatched design through it.

  “I need to be honest with you, Jane. You deserve that.” He released a breath that puffed out his cheeks. “I’ve never met a woman like you before. You’re so badass. Work security, ride a boss bike.” He cocked his head. “We don’t grow women like you down here much.”

  She twisted the lime wedge into her drink. “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “Sure is. That’s what I meant.” His forehead creased into wrinkles. “What’s your story?”

  “Easy enough.” She gave the sparkling club soda a stir. “I’m a Yankee from Massachusetts, from an island off the coast -”

  “I knew you were a Yankee from the way you talked.” He interrupted, smiling warmly. “Won’t hold it against you.”

  She admired the rising bubbles in her glass. “Used to be a cop. Didn’t work out, so I left. I’m in NOLA now, working security.”

  “A cop, huh? Damn, Jane, that’s sexy as hell.” He wiped the foam off the corners of his mouth. “Still got your handcuffs? What kind of cop?”

  “CSI Specialist.” Jane flushed at the fib. She had backed away from stating ‘detective’ since that title seemed to put people off. “Liked the work. Loved the people. Couldn’t manage the stress. PTSD put me out of commission. End o
f story.”

  She glanced at the blues band tucked into the corner. The Deuce was overly warm with the accumulated heat from the crowded tables and the many enthusiastic dancers. Her nose tickled, and she caught the scent of Old Spice wafting off Ryan from across the table as she felt the preliminary warning itch. Oh crap, no. Not now. Of all of the incense scents, sandalwood was her nemesis. It raised hives on her skin. Who wears Old Spice anymore? She fumed. Did Ryan inherit a bottle from his dad? She turned aside as Ryan leaned in.

  “So, Jane, what’re your plans?”

  “Plans?” Glancing down, she noted the red welts already beginning to pattern her wrists.

  “You gonna stay in NOLA or just passing through?”

  “Not sure yet.” The temptation was irresistible. Sliding both hands beneath the table, she began to scratch. The immediate sense of relief was exquisite. “Why?”

  “Because.” Ryan softened his tone. “I’m not playing around. I meant it when I said I think you’re something special.” He resettled his chair. “I’m looking for a special relationship, the right relationship, and I think you’re it.”

  “Crissakes, Ryan!” Jane scratched even harder. “It’s only our first date!”

  His eyes turned frosty and he looked affronted. Sliding his chair to the opposite side of the table, he picked up his beer.

  “I get it. Red light.” He frowned sourly. “Moving too fast again.” He sounded sarcastic. “I’ll give you credit. You’re direct.”

  “Here you go.” Adele arrived with their meal. Sliding the tray onto their table, she used both hands to offload Jane’s fragrant bowl of shrimp and grits as the briny seafood scented the air. Next, she hefted an oval platter piled high with a golden mound of fried lumps surrounding a white china bowl of speckled remoulade dipping sauce.

  Ryan rubbed his hands together appreciatively. “Let me at it!”

  “Another beer?” Adele asked.

  “You bet. Fill me up.” Snatching a hot nugget, Ryan tossed it from hand to hand. “Jane? How ‘bout you?”

  “I’m good.” She gave her grits a stir. “One club soda’s my limit.”