Chasing Those Devil Bones

by W E DeVore

  “I don’t know. A while. He told me he was dying at the Jazz Fest party when he asked me to play on his album. Swore me to secrecy.”

  “What am I going to do, Clementine?”

  Q thought about it for a minute.

  “Do you love her? I mean, you told Yvie you did before this happened, right? And it sounded that way to me, the way you talked about her the other night at Manny’s.”

  Sanger took the bottle from her hands and drank a long swallow, looking out the kitchen window, considering her words for a few minutes. Q watched his face soften, either from the tequila or from his thoughts on her question, she couldn’t quite tell.

  He finally spoke in a low voice. “I used to love her, I guess. Then… I met someone else. Someone I love more than I thought I could. Someone strong. Someone brave. When I saw her the first time… my world just stopped. I’d never seen anyone so lovely. I couldn’t even speak to her. She makes me laugh, even when she pisses me off. I can see things more clearly when she’s around. Two words from her make my whole damned day. She’s a warrior and she makes me feel like a warrior, too. And I love her with everything that I am. I never loved Tori the way I love her. Never loved any woman the way I love her and I’ve tried so hard to stop, but I just can’t seem to bring myself to do it.” He stared through her for a moment before he said, softly, “Clementine… shezeh qarah lanu at haishah hayekhidah. V’ani yode’a shela'olam lo tohavi oti, aval akheshav at yoda'att.”

  “You stopped speaking English, cowboy,” she said, realizing that Sanger may be drunker than he appeared. “You’re going to have to repeat some of that in a language I understand.”

  He wiped his face off with both hands, trying to splash some sobriety back into his brain. “It doesn’t matter. I know I had my chance and I blew it. That’s my sad story, now you know.”

  She studied him for a moment, trying to find some words of comfort and failing. “That’s a bummer, Sanger. I would have liked to see you with that woman you described.”

  “Me, too, Clementine. Me, too. But that’s never going to happen.” He regarded her for several moments, deliberating what to say.

  “Who is she, Sanger?” Q asked.

  “Just a fantasy now.” He smiled sadly. “Seems to be my M.O. Meet an amazing woman, have a shot to be with her, and find some way to fuck it up. First Tori, then her, now Yvie.”

  “You don’t know that, Sanger. Yvie’s stronger than you give her credit for. She might be ok with this…”

  “No. I don’t think that she will….” He took another drink. “Besides I loved Tori once. I’ll try to get back to loving her again after Stanley passes. It’s the right thing for everyone. It’s what Tori wants. For us to be a family. I’ll keep my promise to you until he’s gone, though. Stanley needs his wife. You were right about that. I won’t do anything to hurt him.”

  Q hopped off the counter and took the bottle from his hand, setting it beside him.

  She cupped his face in both her hands and said, “Aaron Sanger, you listen to me. You deserve to be happy. If you don’t love Tori, don’t be with her. Raise a child with her. Be the best father you can be, but you don’t have to marry someone you don’t love. It’s not 1950. Do you understand me?”

  He slid off the counter and held onto Q. “Not everybody gets a happy ending, Clementine.”

  He let her go and walked to the sink to splash some cold water on his face. “You feel like getting a pizza? I don’t think we’re going to solve this tonight.”

  She took another drink. “Yes, please. And beer. If I drink any more tequila, you’re going to be peeling me up off the floor. I’ll call Ben, see if he feels like dinner and carrying his drunk wife home.”

  While Sanger ordered their food, she called Ben and was greeted with thunderous decibel levels of humanity.

  “Where are you?” she asked without preamble.

  “At the Cove!” he exclaimed. “You’re not going to believe this. Hold on. Let me get someplace quiet.”

  The background level dropped as he shut the door to his office. “There are like two hundred people here. We don’t even have a band tonight.”

  She smiled at his excitement. “How did you pull that off?”

  “How did you and Derek pull that off, you mean. They all want to buy advanced tickets for the show tomorrow and are staying to drink from the tasting menu.”

  “Fuck. That means I’m going to have to wear that t-shirt Derek gave me, aren’t I?” she slurred slightly as the alcohol she’d consumed finally made it to her tongue.

  “Seems like. Darlin’, have you been drinking?” he asked, concerned. “Please don’t let that letter freak you out. What did Aaron say?”

  “Well, it did freak me out, but Aaron says it’s probably ok. That’s not why I’m drinking, though. Sanger’s got a broken heart and some baby mama drama. I am here at his house consoling him with a bottle of tequila.”

  She gratefully accepted the glass of water Sanger handed her.

  “Did you just say baby mama?” Ben asked.

  “Tori Gerard is going to give birth to little baby Sanger, sometime after the first of the year,” she said.

  Sanger collapsed next to her. “Oh god, don’t say that out loud.”

  “Let me talk to him,” Ben said.

  “Ben, he feels bad enough…” Q started.

  “I’m not going to give him a hard time. Let me talk to him.”

  She handed Sanger the phone and went to the bathroom to give him some man time. When she came back, he had a little more color and was actually laughing. He handed her the phone.

  “You are a miracle worker, husband. Sanger is actually smiling,” she said.

  “Good. Stay there with him,” Ben replied. “Aaron told me you two already put a pretty good dent in a bottle of tequila. I’ll come get you after we close. It’ll be late, but stay put. I don’t want you anywhere on your own with that crazy Sharpie out there stalking you and you drunk off your ass. I love you. Take it easy on the booze at that pity party, you’ve got a sold-out show tomorrow.”

  “I make no promises. I love you.” She hung up and turned to Sanger. “What did he say to you?”

  “He said I didn’t have to knock up Tori just to get out of joining the Bordelon family.” Sanger grinned.

  “Well, you didn’t. That was a little on the extreme side.”

  “He also said that if he had anything to say about it, he still thinks I should date his sister.” His face fell. “Oh, god. Yvie. I really like that woman. I suppose I have to tell her.”

  “Yes. Yes, you do. But not now. Take a few days. Think it over. Personally, I don’t think you should break up with her. Keep on dating her as long as Tori is legally married and see where you’re at when she’s not. But that’s me. I’m on your side.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Look, you’re stuck with me until at least two, cowboy. I’m not to be on my own. Husband’s orders. Movie?”

  He snapped his fingers. “Oh, I’ve been dying to see this movie...”

  Q tried to focus on Sanger’s words as he launched into a very detailed description of a documentary on the world finance system and how that somehow tied into criminal justice reform or vice versa. Her inebriated brain was understanding, at most, every third word.

  She finally interrupted him. “Sanger, why can’t you just like Star Wars, like a normal man?”

  “You keep saying that. Why? What’s so special about that movie.”

  “What do you mean ‘what’s so special’ about it? Didn’t you want to be Luke Skywalker or Han Solo when you were a kid?”

  “Who?” he asked. “I’ve never even seen it.”

  “Wait. What? We are remedying that right now.”

  Their pizza arrived, and Q successfully convinced Sanger to buy the entire saga on his streaming service, promising to pay him back if he didn’t love them. As they settled onto the couch with their food and the rest of the tequila, he took her hand in both of his.

  �
�Clementine, what would I do if I didn’t have you?” he asked.

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You never have to find out, cowboy. I love you, Aaron. You know that?”

  He smiled. “I love you, too, Clementine.”

  ◆◆◆

  The doorbell rang, and Q woke up. Her neck was cramped from the odd angle at which it had been resting on the arm of the sofa. Sanger’s legs were tangled with hers; his head buried in the cushions at the opposite end. She stood up and went to unlock the door.

  “Hey there, drunk wife.” Ben smiled down at her.

  “Hey there, sober husband.” She squinted up at him, rubbing her neck and trying to ignore the constant pounding inside her skull.

  He bent down and kissed her, following her into the house. She sat down to put her shoes on and Ben disappeared into Sanger’s bedroom, returning with a pillow and a blanket for the snoring detective.

  Q went to the bathroom and dug through Sanger’s medicine cabinet until she found a bottle of Ibuprofen. She retrieved two pills and set them on the coffee table before going to the kitchen and filling a glass with water. She set it beside the pills.

  “Man, you weren’t kidding. That man snores like a fucking freight train. I’m surprised you could hear the doorbell,” Ben said, in a low voice.

  “Told you. Now, will you believe me?” She picked up her satchel and turned off the TV.

  Most of the previous October while Ben had been falsely imprisoned, Sanger had stayed in their guest room to protect Q. The fact that she’d commented more than once on how loudly their friend snored, had caused more than one domestic quarrel between her and Ben.

  As they let themselves out of the house, Ben asked, “You think he’ll be ok?”

  “Yeah. He’s not going to feel too well tomorrow, but then again, neither am I. He’ll make it. He’s just panicking. I think we made it to Empire Strikes Back before he finished the bottle, but it’s a little hazy.”

  Ben helped her into the car. “And how much did my lovely bride drink?”

  “Oh, I held my own. Don’t you worry about that.” She lay back in her seat. “Man, Tori fucked up.”

  “You think?” he asked.

  “No, I mean with Aaron. You should have heard him talk about how much he loved the woman he dated after her. If he fell for Yvie half that hard, you and me would lose our status as the cutest couple in the Bordelon clan.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No, Ben. When that man falls, he falls fucking hard. Too bad there was no one there to catch him the last couple times.”

  He reached over and squeezed her knee. “Maybe this baby is a good thing. At some point, he did love Tori, right? Maybe they can get that back.”

  “Maybe. He really does like your sister, this timing sucks,” she said. “Something about the whole thing still doesn’t seem right.”

  “You still think Tori killed Savion.”

  Q pointed to her nose. “Top of the class.”

  “Let it go, darlin’.”

  “Ben,” she said, rolling her head to the side to look at him. “Do I make your world light up by saying two damn words?”

  He regarded his sleepy wife and smiled. “No, darlin’, you make my universe light up every time I look at you. Every day there are too many things for me to be grateful for and all of them are you.”

  She closed her eyes. “Good, because every good thing I have is only good because of you.”

  “Go to sleep, my love. I’ll carry you to bed.”

  Chapter 10

  The Living End

  Q squinted against the morning light as she stood on Stanley’s front porch, rubbing at her forehead as it protested the amount of toxic beverages she’d ingested with Sanger the previous evening. She took a sip of her mineral water and stuffed down her discomfort as she rang the doorbell.

  Stanley, on the other hand, was clear-eyed and smiling when he opened the door in a cloud of marijuana smoke. “Good morning, young blood.”

  “Morning, old man.” She took the joint he was holding and took a hit before handing it back to him as she walked inside.

  “What the hell happened to you?” he asked. “You look like shit.”

  “Don’t ask.” She eyed the green goo in the glass he held with disgust as her breakfast threatened to make a reappearance. “What in the good fuck is that?”

  “Kale and chia smoothie. Superfoods,” he said, guiding her into the living room. He handed it to her. “Here, drink it, you look like you could use it more than me.”

  Q took a long drink and stuck out her tongue. “Gah. Thanks. Now my tongue’s numb.”

  “Don’t be a brat, it’s good for you. I need you running at a hundred percent today.”

  She reluctantly took another swallow and her stomach clenched in a failed attempt to prevent the liquid from entering. “Sorry, old man, not happening.”

  Stanley laughed as she strode into the kitchen, past Tori, and dumped the rest down the sink.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Q?” Tori asked. “That’s Stanley’s breakfast.”

  Q held up the plastic bag she was carrying in her other hand. “Not anymore. I brought the old man biscuits and gravy. My husband makes the very best. Knocked out the worst of my hangover in a hurry, thought it would give Stanley a little get up and go.”

  Tori glared at her. “He’s supposed to be eating healthy.”

  “What’s it going to do? Kill him?” Q stared her down as Stanley eagerly took the bag from her hand and pulled out the container inside with glee. He grabbed a fork to eat his breakfast, offering her the joint as he did.

  “Why were you drinking last night, young blood?” he asked around his mouthful of gravy.

  “Why were you smoking pot all morning?” she retorted, taking a large hit and holding it.

  “I’ve got cancer, what’s your excuse.”

  Q glanced at Tori before saying nonchalantly, “Oh, my friend, Aaron, the detective? He got some unexpected and not so welcome news. I was consoling him. Trying to convince him not to do anything stupid and self-destructive.”

  Stanley smiled at his wife. “Must be going around. Unexpected news, I mean.”

  Tori blushed and kissed him. “I’ll make you another smoothie before I leave.”

  He shook his head. “No more superfoods, babe. I’m going on a strict Southern diet for a few days. I think all this healthy shit is killing me faster than the cancer. I’ve been running down faster than a broken watch the last two weeks. I need some real food and a real drink. We’re giving it a rest for now.”

  “It’s the shock,” Q chimed in. “His body’s in shock. You can’t live on fried food, booze, and pussy for seventy years and then switch to kale. What were you thinking, old man?”

  Tori threw up her hands in aggravation. “You’re not helping, Q. This is serious. I’m trying to take care of my husband.”

  Q smiled sweetly at her. “One person’s cure is another’s poison.”

  “Go to hell,” Tori replied.

  Stanley stood up and stretched. “It’s been years since two beautiful women fought over me. Now, I’d appreciate it if one of you would pull a knife and stab me in the liver. It’s such a better story than the old man slowly died of cancer.”

  Q started to giggle, stubbing out what little was left of the joint on the edge of the sink. “Come on, old man. Day’s a wasting. We’ve got one song left, let’s do the damned thing.”

  Stanley looked at her in confusion. “What about Bourbon Street Baby?”

  All the mirth she’d felt for the last few minutes evaporated. “Stanley, we recorded that three days ago, don’t you remember?”

  He shook his head. “Of course. I just forgot for a minute. It’s the pain meds.”

  Q followed him down the steps to the studio. “Tell me what’s going on Stanley.”

  He walked to the edge of the fountain and sat down, eying the back door to the house. Q sat next to him and he put his arm around h
er. “I think it’s spreading, Q.”

  She pulled back in horror and he held her more tightly. “I’ve been getting dizzy and confused sometimes…”

  “Go to the doctor,” she said. “We’ll cancel today.”

  “If it’s in my brain, we’re done,” he replied. “I just want to live the way I always did, just for a little while and forget about being sick. I’ll give it another week or so and go find out how bad it is. I just wanted to tell you, so you know our timeline is getting shortened up some. You might have to mix this one on your own, young blood.”

  Q covered her mouth and choked back a wave of sadness. “You can’t die, Stanley. What am I going to do without you?”

  He blinked back the tears that filled his eyes and he whispered, “You listen to me, my sweet girl. You’re gonna fly. You let go of whatever shit is still holding you back and you make it happen for yourself. You hear me?”

  She nodded silently as the side gate opened with a clank and Derek strode around the corner with Charlie; the former of whom was making a feminine sex noise, making the latter smirk as he lit a cigarette. Q sniffed back her tears and said to Stanley, “I just want you to know, that I will never forgive you for bringing those two together.”

  Stanley jostled her against him and stood up. “Come one, let’s do the damned thing.”

  ◆◆◆

  After a long day of cleaning up the few parts of the previous session that Stanley hadn’t approved, it was finally time to finish the last song. Throughout the day, Stanley had been insistent that Q take it solo on both piano and vocals. While she’d been prepared to do so, given her mentor’s condition the past couple weeks, she knew it wasn’t the right thing to do.

  As they sat upstairs at the piano, waiting to record the first pass, she finally said, “You have to play this one, Stanley. It should be you on the record. I only learned the part because you’ve been so run down lately.”

  He said into one of the mic’s, “Lorene, mute these channels, I need to have a talk with my girl.”

  He picked up the headphones and waited for confirmation before he said, “I want you to play this at the funeral. Tell them all a funny story. Get them laughing and then you play it. I want it to be your song.”