“You got that right,” Kanoa remarked dryly.
“There’s more to it than that,” I said, again in a dream-like voice that didn’t seem to belong to me. “Evanora’s real father is – was – my best friend, my Faust bandmate, Jordan Barker. I swore way back when I first held her that I would always look out for her, no matter what – but when Emperor took over, and when Angelique was murdered, I didn’t know what happened – I think, I thought, I’m not sure, I was afraid…” And I couldn’t finish my thoughts, in part because they were incoherent, and in part because tears began running down my face again.
Evanora, still on her knees, wiped away my tears as they continued to fall. I had to ask her. “Your mother – Ramira, we called her Rosie,” I began, tearfully, “where is she? How is she? What happened to her?”
Evanora sighed. “She goes by Rose now,” she said, sadly. “I don’t think you’d recognize her. She became the wife of Emperor – sorry, Roger Cunningham – and my last name is, officially, ‘Cunningham’ now that he’s adopted me.”
I shook my head and pursed my lips until they’d become a thin line across my face. The tears almost immediately stopped. My voice had an edge to it that I almost didn’t recognize, and I’d hoped that Evanora recognized that the edge in my voice was meant for Emperor and all the sorry bastards who’d attempted to wipe Jordan – and his memory – off the face of the Earth, even as his living, breathing legacy walked along the Bowery in a torn dress and messy hair. “Just had to erase every trace of Jordan from your life, huh? What do you know about your father, Evanora? Anything at all?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Not a whole lot,” she said, the sadness still in her voice. “I know my mother loved him so much – I know some part of her still does, and she misses him terribly. I know I have some of his physical traits. I know he was addicted to heroin. I know he was a super talented bass player – you know, I have an old iPod of all of Faust’s songs…”
“Really?” I asked, stunned. “Where did you get that? What did you think of us?”
Evanora smiled. “You guys were ridiculous. Like I can’t even imagine what it was like to see you live. I can’t have anyone catch me listening to that iPod, I don’t even know where it came from or how it had Faust’s songs already loaded on there, but I’ll tell you, what that music does to me – I can’t explain it…”
I smiled. “That’s – that’s actually comforting. I thought you’d know next to nothing, and to hear you all know so much…not to mention, that you think of me as a folk hero…”
Kanoa laughed and rolled his eyes. “Get over it, rock star. These kids can be useful, you know.” He turned to Tommy. “Listen, man, I’ll tell you what – you help us, we help you. You want to be rid of Emperor – God knows we can’t wait for the day that this guy finally drops dead, so we can turn it into a national holiday – and the more of us that are part of this Uprising, the better off we all are, and the more likely we are to overthrow this bastard once and for all. For way too long, we three believed that we were all that was out there – it’s nice to know that we’re not alone. So, you find out what the hell this asshole Emperor is up to, and see if you can find more people to join us – it’ll be a nice little gathering here in New York City, you know?”
Basile nodded. “And of course,” he continued, “we’ll find out who caused this blast, and whatever we’ve got to do to get the word out there so that Emperor doesn’t pin this on us – because you know damn well he’s going to try – we’ll do it.”
Tommy nodded, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “So – we’re officially part of The Uprising now? Me and Evie?”
“Well, you’ll need to go through an initiation rite,” I remarked sarcastically, “but yeah, I guess you’re officially part of The Uprising. But listen – here’s the deal. You can’t go running back to Emperor and start with your nonsense of ‘we’re a part of The Uprising now, so fuck you,’ because number one, you’ll not only get killed, you’ll get Evanora killed, and then, you’re really going to have a problem – namely, with me. You have access to information that we need right now, so no matter what it takes, you’re going to need to act like nothing ever happened here tonight. You never ran into us, you never talked to us, you know nothing about an ‘uprising’ or a low-rising or whatever else you want to call this. So – this Emperor’s Ball, it was your “coming out” cotillion, right, Evanora?”
Evanora nodded.
“Yes. And that means that you were meant to choose your ‘betrothed,’ right? And the ‘betrothed’ is here right now, right?” I asked for clarification.
Tommy smirked. “I’d just like the record to reflect that I’d rather be betrothed to you right now, Jamie.”
I smirked back. I’d seen this movie before – I got just as many offers for dick as I did for pussy back in Faust’s prime – but even though I had no desire to sample another man’s wares, I didn’t see the big deal in those who did, whether out of curiosity or out of genuine desire. Admittedly, I came from a very different world – a very different New York – but I also knew the game, and how it was played, before this kid was even born. Still, he got points for trying.
“That’s adorable, Tommy,” I replied, “and I’m flattered. But right now, your job is to put on the front that you and Evanora are betrothed in marriage, especially now that she ‘chose you’ at the ball and whatever. This isn’t gonna work any other way. You want access to Emperor’s inner sanctum? Marry his daughter – or act like you will.”
Evanora shook her head. “Once the first Faust baby, always the first Faust baby, huh?” she asked sarcastically.
I smiled broadly. So many memories, I thought. “So, you know about that, huh? Yup…you’ll always be the first – and, it looks like, the only – Faust baby. Don’t worry – you have a say in all this too, you know. You’re probably the most valuable part of this equation.”
And with that, Evanora stood up and dusted herself off. “Fair enough,” she said, offering her outstretched hand to me so I could take it and use it to help stand myself up. “Let’s go back to your place and make magic happen. I’m spending the night.”
I side-eyed Evanora as I took her hand and got to my feet. “You know, kid – the last time I heard a line like that, it resulted in a very different type of evening than the one you and I will be having tonight.” I dusted my pants bottom off roughly, amazed at how much dirt could show up on the back of a pair of black leather pants. “But you’re only spending one night, do you hear me? After tonight, you’re going back to your mother. I won’t have her worrying that something bad happened to you, because if she thinks that, she’ll stop at nothing to find out what’s going on with The Uprising, and frankly, I wouldn’t blame her in the least. I don’t know where her loyalties lie – but I’m going to find out.”
Evanora pouted but conceded the point. “Understood,” she said. “Are we going or not?”
I don’t know how I fell asleep in the hospital – I guess I was there longer than I thought – but I awoke, suddenly, when I heard a mewling sound. For a second, I thought I was back in our apartment on Ludlow Street – the one I shared with Angelique, the one where I began painting the sun room in a soft powdered blue on the day Angelique came home with a pissed-on pregnancy test that had the same color in the indicator window – and that one of the alley cats had perched itself by the window, hoping for some scraps of food.
Inevitably, Angelique or I would get up and leave some milk, some bacon bits, or some leftover dinner for the cadging cat – that was the way we’d done things in the old New York, after all; if one of us ate, we all ate, and no one ever went to bed hungry, not even the alley cats – but it was only when I heard Rosie’s voice that I realized I was still in Mount Sinai with Angelique and Jordan.
When I was fully awake, just a moment later, I realized that, while Angelique and Jordan were passed out cold – and Jordan was snoring like a freight train, to boot – Rosie was singing, in Spanish, t
o Evanora.
“Niña,” she whispered and sang, “Si tu no crees que te he dicho la verdad, pregunta a Dios y el si que te dirá, que para mi serás mi niña…” Her voice trailed off as Evanora’s mewling softened and her breathing steadied.
I stood up and walked over to the bed. “Rosie,” I whispered, “everything alright?”
Rosie looked up at me and smiled serenely. “Yeah, Jamie, everything’s fine. Evanora here just got a little afraid with her daddy’s snoring” – she nodded her head towards Jordan, whose feet were perched high in the air as the rest of his wiry, gangly frame dangled over a chair that looked rather uncomfortable, and of course, he was still snoring loudly – “and I thought I’d put her back to sleep.”
I couldn’t help but smile just as serenely at Rosie. Her entire presence was calming – I now understood why Jordan loved her so much, and why he needed her in his life. “What were you singing to her?” I asked.
Rosie kissed the top of Evanora’s head before covering it with a tiny white cradle cap and putting her back in the clear, hospital-regulation bassinette. “If you do not think I told you the truth, ask God and He will tell you the same – that for me, you will always be my baby girl,” she said, softly. “It’s from a song by Jose Feliciano, one of the greatest Puerto Rican musicians ever.”
“I’ve never been to Puerto Rico,” I said, apropos of nothing, “I’d like to go one day.”
“You should,” she said. “It’s absolutely beautiful. I want to take Evanora when she’s old enough – me, her, and Jordan – so she can meet my family. Maybe Faust can play there…”
“That would be nice,” I said.
Rosie suddenly stared at me, intently. “Jamie, listen. I know you’re Jordan’s best friend and all – and I know that you’ll have your own baby soon – but I need you to promise me something.”
I furrowed my brow, suddenly on edge because of the urgency in her voice. “Anything, Rosie, you know you guys are my family and you don’t even have to ask…”
Rosie held up her hand, cutting me off before I could even finish my thought. “I don’t know what will happen to us – something is definitely going on here, and you know Angelique is part of that movement that everyone’s talking about…but I need you to promise me that, no matter what happens, if you’re alive, you’ll look out for my baby Evanora. Don’t worry about me – don’t worry about Jordan – don’t even worry about Angelique. We’re all going to be alright. Just look out for my baby.” She exhaled, as though just asking me for this simple – at least to me – request took the weight of the world off her shoulders. “Can you do that, Jamie? Can you promise me you’ll always look out for my baby?”
“I…yeah, of course, Rosie, you don’t even have to ask,” I replied. “I’m going through the Trials, now – did Jordan tell you? If I get through the Trials, I’ll be a part of the Cabal, and then I’ll make enough money for all of us to live, Evanora won’t have to worry about a thing…”
Rosie curled her upper lip in disgust. “Oh, yeah,” she said sardonically, “a militarized police force designed to enforce law and order, no matter the cost. What could possibly go wrong in a situation like that?”
Tommy, Basile, Kanoa, Evanora, and I all somehow ended up back in the apartment – which felt a lot smaller now that two more bodies were inside of it – where Tommy happily took the towels we’d proffered to him, clearly eager to hop in the shower and wash the soot off himself.
“I definitely have something you can wear in here,” Kanoa offered as he rooted around in his drawers, “but I’m not sure if I’m quite your size. You look a lot bigger than me.” He looked up from his bottom drawer and squinted at Tommy, trying to size him up.
Basile nodded in agreement, then turned to his closet. “You’re better off with something of mine, Tommy,” he said. “Kanoa, your clothes will barely fit that baby girl.”
Kanoa laughed, then grabbed a tiny black T-shirt and tossed it at Basile. “Fuck you, Basile,” he said. “I’m big where it counts.”
A wry smile crossed Basile’s face. Here we go again! Another opening, I thought to myself, and Basile is just going to plow his way through this one like a battering ram…and in front of other people, no less…these poor, innocent kids…
“Where would that be?” Basile asked. “Up your asshole?”
The look of confusion and revulsion on Tommy’s face suggested that he wasn’t sure whether he should be amused or disgusted, so he looked over at me and asked the obvious. “Is it – are they always like this?”
“No,” I replied dryly. “They’re usually a lot worse.”
And with that comment, Evanora emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing more than her shimmering pearl white bra, tied like a halter, with the tiniest pair of matching panties I’d seen on a woman. She was clean, now, with her wet hair forming dark ringlets around her shoulders and her chubby cheeks flushing to a familiar ruddy pink.
I blinked rapidly and had to take a step back, because for a moment, I thought I was twenty years younger and Rosie Diaz was standing before me in her AC/DC shirt and scuffed ballet flats. “Rosie…” I whispered. “Put your clothes on…Angelique is gonna be pissed…”
Evanora’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry?”
I shook my head. Hearing Evanora’s voice – a product of the best Manhattan schools, worlds away from her mother’s distinctive Puerto-Rican-from-the-Bronx accent – quickly brought me back to reality. “Never mind. Kanoa!” I hollered.
Basile shook his head while mumbling something about damned kids, man, unh-unh-unh, Kanoa’s eyes all but popped out of his head, and Tommy just stared blankly. Yup, I thought, as I observed Tommy’s nonplussed face, gay. Meh. Whatever. At least I don’t have to worry about leaving Evanora alone with him…now these savages I live with, on the other hand…
“Kanoa! Give me one of your goddamn shirts for Evanora, man!” I hollered again.
Evanora rolled her eyes, smirked, and hopped into my bed. “You’ve never seen a girl in her underwear before, Ivan Sapphire?” she asked before crawling under the blanket. “You aren’t going to try anything, right?”
I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of it all. “Are you crazy? No! Of course not! You’re my best friend’s kid! And you need some damn clothes! And why the hell are you in my bed, kid?”
Evanora propped her head on her left arm and looked at me matter-of-factly. “Where else would you have me sleep, Ivan Sapphire?”
“Don’t call me that!” I shouted. “What would your father say if he were alive?”
Evanora sighed and flopped her head back on my pillow. “Somehow, if my father were alive, Jamie, I have a feeling everything would be different right now.” She rustled under the blanket a little, then flipped over on her side before murmuring “g’night” and falling asleep almost instantly.
Tommy managed to slip into the shower, unnoticed, as this little exchange went on, but Basile and Kanoa bore witness to this madness and responded with howling laughter.
I narrowed my eyes at them as I stripped off my clothes. “Yeah. Okay. Hilarious. Fuck you guys. No, seriously, fuck you,” I snarled as I continued to disrobe, until I was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs and a tattered undershirt.
Kanoa continued to guffaw like a rabid hyena. “Man, listen. When you told me that back in the Faust days, you used to get pussy tossed at you like the shit was gonna rot, I didn’t believe it. I said to myself, nah, this motherfucker is exaggerating. Nobody gets pussy like that. But nah! Here we are, and here you are, and the lone attractive woman we’ve seen in decades is now sleeping in your bed wearing nothing but two patches of cloth and calling it underwear. She just hopped up in here and took all her clothes off, and she was like” – he adopted a high-pitched, overly feminine squeal – “Ivaaan! Ivan Sapphire! Come take meeeee!”
I rolled my eyes. “Hello? Asshole? She’s my best friend’s kid. She’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to a daughter. Have you all gone insan
e?”
“Us? No, Jamie, we’re totally sane, especially compared to yo’ass,” Basile chortled as he wrapped himself in a blue terry-cloth bathrobe and rubbed lavender-scented lotion, gingerly, on his cracking hands. “But if that’s your best friend’s kid, and that’s all you see her as, you’d better not get in that bed and act a damn fool with her. Especially since you know her mama, and her mama is alive and well.”
I sighed. “Basile, listen, and you gotta believe me when I tell you this: my mind wasn’t even going there. It hasn’t in more than twenty years. I lost the love of my life, and my baby boy, and when they died, a huge part of me died with them. And that part of me isn’t coming back, and it sure as hell isn’t coming back now that my best friend’s 21-year-old kid is sleeping in my bed, wearing less than what the Faust groupies would wear in our heyday, and God knows those women were game for the filthiest shit. Her father would fuckin’ kill her if he were alive today, and I’d help bury her fuckin’ body.” I sighed again and shook my head. “Speaking of which, where’s Tommy going to sleep?”
Kanoa, who somehow managed to stop laughing long enough to undress himself completely, was standing hairless and naked before us while surveying the apartment. “Well, I figure this – I like to sleep naked, so he can’t sleep with me. I mean, I know I’m gorgeous and irresistible, but really, I can’t have him falling in love and shit. I’m not ready for that type of relationship.” He smirked. “Basile, how about with you?”
Basile shook his head. “If I roll out the bunk underneath my bed” – he gestured to it with his foot – “I think that will be fine. Don’t worry about it. We’ll sort it out. Let’s get settled and get some sleep. It’s just before the sun, you know.” He gestured absently toward the window, pausing to watch a muted orange light slowly glow from underneath the blackout curtains. “And it’s just for one night.”
The Gathering: Book One of The Uprising Series Page 10