Den of Smoke

by Christopher Byford

  By the time eyes fell from the sky, two smartly dressed silhouettes mounted a carriage, coat tails dancing in the breeze. Gold and silver flashes highlighted their features, waiting to be noticed – and they were.

  Now the applause was directed at the hosts; whistles, cheers and more were heard. The fireworks stopped with a conjoined raise of their hands.

  ‘Handsome as ever, Esquelle,’ the woman in the pair called out with pride, ‘my, you get prettier every time I see you. It’s against our normal routine to visit a place again so quickly but in our defence you enchanted us. You only have yourselves to blame.’

  The woman blew a kiss, a rocket shooting up and fleetingly illuminating the surroundings before she continued.

  ‘If we hosted you that time, then you may have noticed a change in our routine. I assume that you all read the papers, for the news of our adventures have reached far and wide, but if you have been deaf to our deeds, I present to you my partner in this endeavour: the fabulous Franco Del Monaire!’

  Franco, his dress suit similar to his partner’s but with differing trim, strode along the rooftop, a debonair cane pointing occasionally at those whom he addressed.

  ‘Esquelle! Misu speaks the truth. I was told, at length, that upon my return to the show, I simply had to meet you all and I must say …’ Franco played the pause perfectly ‘… she did not lead me wrong. These faces, my, such delight I see before me. Let it not be said that I don’t enjoy pleasant company and just from your welcome, I can tell that you’ll win our warmest affections.’

  ‘I am no liar,’ Misu stated, clutching her breast. ‘Far and wide we’ve travelled, from one side of the Sand Sea to the other, but you folks are something special. I can feel it in my very heart.’

  ‘Ohhhhh, Esquelle, we are excited to be here! We are delighted to be here! I feel tonight will be favourable for all of us no matter the outcome of luck. Why, if we departed skint come the dawn, then it still would be an evening worthwhile.’ Franco played against his partner’s candour, the energy infectious.

  Ripples of applause washed among the crowd. Some shouted out their affection, desperate to be acknowledged.

  Jackdaw brought his hands together at a slower pace than the others, keen not to be jostled. That being said, the rest of the Jackrabbits were already bewitched. Cole especially looked like he was staring into the centre of the sun between his moments of boisterous appreciation.

  The train carriage doors opened in unison, revealing the belles of the Morning Star, the women who acted as its lifeblood, hosting the games, putting on performances and much, much else. They all moved onto the platform, resembling a flock of birds who had decided to take flight in unison. The gaming tables were set up, as were the scores of chairs for seating. The carriage interiors were invite only, roped off against those who lacked the appropriate summons.

  ‘Friends from far and wide!’ Misu called, skipping from carriage to carriage. ‘We welcome you, nay, invite you, to the grandeur that is the Morning Star. Bring your brightest smile and discard every woe that may plague you. Gamble, drink, do both, do neither, do what takes your fancy.’

  ‘We who entertain wish you fortune! Wish you pleasant company! Wish you good cheer!’ Franco followed behind, his cane waving wildly.

  Misu skipped back in delight, taking her partner’s hand in a firm grip. With beaming smiles, they christened the night in unison, inviting all to heed their call.

  ‘Esquelle! You are our guests on the Morning Star this night!’

  Fireworks exploded once more. Those on the platforms were rapturous.

  All, except for Jackdaw.

  With the introductions over, punters began to flitter to tables and talk among themselves. They found seats, ordered drinks and indulged in revelry almost immediately. Jack scanned around him, watching the flow of people ripple along routes between tables. The owners had vanished from their stage to who knows where, but they would show their faces again soon no doubt. Until then, he and the Jackrabbits could stay incognito.

  ‘Wow! Did you see that?!’ Cole’s delight was almost painful to witness. ‘I have never seen anything like this! What are we doing first? Can we do the tables? I mean, we’ve got time haven’t we?’

  The enthusiasm was far from reciprocated.

  ‘We’re waiting for the owners to be free. Before and after, either side of that, we’re keeping our heads down.’ Jackdaw looked between the girls who served drinks and shuffled cards, wondering whether any of them would give a clue as to the whereabouts of their gracious hosts.

  ‘Does that mean that we get to enjoy the night?’ Blakestone pressed his luck.

  ‘No, it doesn’t.’

  ‘So we just stand here until you decide we can mingle some?’

  ‘For the time being.’

  ‘The hell with that. Cole, you thirsty?’ Blake nudged the youngster who wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.

  ‘Er …’

  ‘Yes, you’re thirsty,’ Blake insisted, tugging him into the flow of bodies. ‘Come on.’

  ‘I don’t recall giving you permission,’ Jack protested loudly.

  ‘Then you’d best get your memory checked, Jack,’ Blake shouted back. ‘We’re not all allergic to a good time like you! Live a little!’

  Jackdaw swore at the sheer impudence on display, more agitated that they were in too public a space to correct it. Alvina, who remained at his side, stood on the tips of her toes to look over some of the taller customers’ heads.

  ‘He is right you know. You’re being far too cautious.’ Alvina flashed her brown eyes at him. ‘You’re up in the clouds, observing something from up high when you should be down here with us mortals enjoying it.’

  ‘I’m not here to indulge. This is business, remember?’

  Now it was Alvina’s turn to share her frustrations but she did so with an attempt to make him see reason. In a limited capacity at least. This mundane dribble was even wearing her down.

  ‘I assure you, Jack, nobody could have possibly forgotten. Now, how about we go play a few hands, down a drink or two and – just for tonight – we play nice.’

  Truth be told, Jack wanted nothing better than to indulge in a good cigar, some decent brandy and to drink and smoke his troubles away. Instead he was stuck babysitting a group of crooks who – Jack had foolishly believed – could manage themselves with a degree of modesty.

  Jackdaw surveyed each table, taking notice of the showgirls who hosted the games and served the drinks. Each one was well dressed, a beautiful snare to encourage the ease to flatter and to spend more than would be normally comfortable. It was a fine honey trap – one Jackdaw was disappointed he hadn’t invented himself.

  One of the showgirls in attendance made her way past, brushing her hands on the shoulders of men who paid kind comments, and she answered their questions in turn with the utmost professionalism. Her shock of oaken hair bounced with every step, contrasting against her black-tiered dress. Colette caught the eyes of Jackdaw who was doing his best to garner her attention without actually making the effort obvious.

  Colette noticed. Of course she noticed. She was familiar with the nuances of men who found it difficult to strike up conversation, preferred them almost. The woman could coax the deepest of secrets should she wish, but what Jackdaw wanted of her was clear.

  Colette bowed politely to the pair. ‘Good evening to you both.’

  ‘With your assistance I’m hoping it can get better.’

  Colette gave a cautious purse of the lips, noticing Alvina glance away to see what Blake and Cole were engaged in.

  ‘I’m looking for the head of the house – one Misu. We have a little business to discuss. Be a doll and point her out to me could you?’ He coquettishly beamed.

  ‘She’s currently preoccupied. Our hostess is popular and may be some time.’

  Jack had no stomach for a prolonged conversation and asserted his authority immediately. ‘Maybe you don’t know who I am.’

  Colette
’s eyes flashed in seriousness, quite taken back by the inability of this man to understand the concept of waiting.

  ‘I know perfectly who you are, Mister Jackdaw,’ she replied, quite calm but direct, accompanying her words with a toss of her dark locks. ‘The owners are simply not willing to grant you an audience until the show is over. Their instructions. Therefore, I suggest you order something and partake in one of the sights we have organized. The night is still young.’

  Jackdaw rolled his eyes at this inconvenience. Time was wasting and so was his window of opportunity.

  ‘Tell them that I insist,’ he rebutted.

  ‘Now, they said that you would say that too. Awfully intelligent, they are.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And, I was told that should you do anything to cause a commotion the Bluecoats will be summoned and all this will be a bust. Creating a ruckus over impatience is a very silly thing, wouldn’t you agree?’ Colette scaled back her tone upon noticing that Alvina hadn’t adopted Jackdaw’s lack of tact and, in fact, found this entire encounter a farce. ‘I suggest you indulge in what we have to offer, like your friends there. In good time you’ll be able to talk business. A good evening to you, sir, miss.’

  She gave a nod to both before continuing on to her designated tables, leaving Jack to seethe. Before Alvina could even attempt to console him the man had begun to wallow in his stupor.

  ‘Granting me an audience like I have time for this shit … I damn well summoned this train here. She owes me and I’m being treated like –’

  ‘A few hours won’t hurt.’ Alvina interrupted his seething. ‘Besides, the others seem to be enjoying themselves. I don’t think I’ve seen Cole smile before …’

  Blake cheered at one of the dice tables, putting Cole in a celebratory headlock. Incognito, Jackdaw had demanded. Whatever happened to discretion? They were supposed to be keeping a low profile!

  Before his outrage could become any greater, Jack caught the fleeting scent of something from a gaggle of women who brushed past. Their frocks were expensive, their necks and hands bejewelled, flaunting their worth to all in view. They caused a minor commotion themselves, a brief distraction in a setting of pure wonder. The smell was heavenly, familiar. As was the laughter from the woman in the green dress with her back to him, her shoulders bare and hair pinned up.

  Without a conscious attempt at doing so, Jack let slip a name from his lips. ‘Bounty?’

  With a shimmer of emerald, the woman twisted around, catching sight of Jackdaw who was correct in his assumption. There was no possible way he could mistake that scent. It ignited him the times she lay upon his chest or had caught it momentarily as they shared food.

  Bounty’s eyes lit up in surprise, accompanied by others in her trade who put on a display worthy of those employed by the Morning Star.

  ‘Jack, what are you …’ She worriedly looked around her as if someone was about to converge on the pair, Bluecoats maybe or someone considerably worse. He had yet to properly explain the trouble he was in. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Would you believe enjoying the show?’

  ‘No. I wouldn’t.’ Bounty gave the pretence of laughter, waving the other Roses on their way, convincing them that she would catch up with them after she was done. The collection gave sceptical comments in jest after realizing who Bounty was conversing with.

  ‘Then, business?’ Jack stated.

  ‘That I would believe. It’s a little busy here to be up to no good isn’t it?’

  ‘Not if the no good part involves our hosts.’

  Bounty hushed her words, moving in closer so only he could hear them. Revellers danced and brushed past, oblivious as to what was being conspired, accidentally nudging the pair against one another.

  ‘You’ve already got into trouble, trouble I had to clean up if you remember. I won’t even go into the difficulties that caused me, the threats of eviction alone …’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for you to get mixed up in my affairs, it was just …’ Jack had trouble completing his sentence.

  Bounty tilted her head to the side, a single tassel falling past an ear. ‘It was just what?’

  ‘I’ve got a plan.’

  ‘With the show here? You are crazy. Is it as absurd as making me decent?’

  Jack bit his bottom lip and nodded eagerly. On one of the carriages, Misu Pontain, co-owner of the show extraordinaire, crouched over the side and enthusiastically waved to encourage a pocket of people to cheer and clap as a roulette wheel was spun on one of the gaming tables. Whatever number came up, it was favourable to most of the onlookers, even those who had just lost their money.

  ‘Alvina, if you could be so kind as to go get Misu’s attention, please?’

  He paused, noticing that he was staring into Bounty’s eyes. The lack of response coaxed him back to reality. Alvina was absent from his side. He spotted her slinking away, jerking upright suddenly as Jack called her name and asked what she was doing. He knew full well considering that she was making a beeline for the table that Cole and Blakestone were enjoying themselves at.

  ‘I’m having a drink! Or two, possibly more. That’s the intention, boss! Might lose a little money while I’m at it. I’m playing this one by ear.’

  ‘I expect those idiots to fool around, but not you,’ Jack scolded. ‘I expected better.’

  By now people were jostling past Alvina, carrying her on her way as she weakly protested.

  ‘Don’t be sore! I’m doing this for pretence purposes. Figure if I’m mingling with a glass in my hand, they might be under the illusion that we’re enjoying ourselves! Try it! Who knows, if you pretend to have fun, you might even accidentally have a little yourself!’

  Bounty sniggered behind a gloved hand, as every other question Jack fired over the crowd went unanswered, with Alvina pointing to her ear and whipping her head side to side. As she reached the gaming tables, Jack couldn’t quite believe the sight as she celebrated her arrival with the other Jackrabbits with copious back-slapping, but there it was.

  ‘Doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea to me, Jack,’ Bounty stated. ‘Figure you got some time in your schedule to enjoy my company?’

  ‘You’re a Rose. Aren’t you … on hire?’ He tiptoed around the query, unsure of the exact etiquette to use. She playfully tapped his nose.

  ‘Then consider this a freebie. Come on, show me to the bar. I’m too sober and the night is getting on. There’s a good time to be had out there and I’m eager for someone to show me it.’ She looped an arm around his and latched on tightly. ‘Lead on. Time’s a wasting.’

  Jack finally broke a smile through his disgruntled demeanour.

  * * *

  For a scant number of hours, Jackdaw forgot what it was like to be plagued with the doubts and the pressures that his role entailed. He ignored the burning in the back of his head, coaxing him to be suspicious of the youngster in awe, the older gent who supped patiently on a tankard of ale, the fine woman who had a run of luck on the dice who kept looking his way. No. There were no enemies here, nobody to surprise him with a knife, no reason to be on his guard.

  Eventually Bounty’s insistence for him to give a roulette wheel a spin was just what was needed for him to succumb to the games. Luck, for once, was with him, following him from the roulette to the poker, ensuring his pockets were well lined in the process. He watched the performances, one involving knife throwing, the likes of which sent the audience into panicked gasps at the daring feat. Another displayed the northern art of contact juggling, where a glass sphere lingered in the same place on the presenter’s limb for rarely a second, before rolling around the body as she stretched and twisted. An amazing skill, Bounty shouted in Jack’s ear to be heard above the applause, which only increased when the showgirl performing the act decided to do it with two props instead of one.

  Unfathomably, the pair joined the Jackrabbits at their table and Jack finally apologized for his behaviour. The liquor loosened his tongue e
nough to confess his worries – with sweet words of encouragement from Bounty no doubt helping. Jack was, of course, forgiven, but not before losing a good part of what he had gained that evening. Cole, surprisingly, won the majority despite Blake’s insistence that he would claim it all. When matters had calmed and the clock struck midnight, those who still remained on the platform were content. Anecdotes were shared, coaxing riotous laughter.

  Jackdaw puffed on a cigar, watching some of the other customers decide to take their leave, their table now a graveyard of multicoloured bottles. Lightweights, he thought, despondent that this night would have to end when business had been dealt with. He found himself longingly staring at the train, catching sight of the Jackrabbits at its heavily buffed exterior.

  ‘Beautiful, ain’t she?’ he purred. Bounty took a glass from her lips, leaving an imprint of lipstick upon it. Before she could query his meaning, a half-drunk Cole beat her to it.

  ‘I prefer my girls to have less … metal. Gets in the way of things.’ He snorted, chasing the last mouthful of beer from his bottle. The frosted glass was placed alongside a number of others.

  ‘There’s a magnificence to this fair train. This show. This whole shebang. It’s quite a life.’

  ‘You’re not thinking of going legit on us are you?’ Alvina and Blake were conversing with others nearby, out of earshot otherwise Jack expected that they would administer a good amount of scorn.

  Bounty sat upon Jack’s knee, running her fingers through the back of his hair in thought.

  ‘Would that be so bad?’ Jack asked.

  ‘It’s not the life you know,’ Cole replied with a hiccup.

  ‘No it’s not. But it could be one worth partaking in to test the waters. Who knows, it could stick. A fellow can’t be running all his days.’

  ‘You could. You’re good at it,’ Bounty added, coaxing a glance to her.

  ‘According to Donovan, clearly I’m not good enough. Therein lies the rub. What I am to Cole, he is to me. The terrible hierarchy.’ He turned back to the Jackrabbit, solemn and true. ‘Bigger fish, Cole … we all meet the same fate in the end.’