Torch Song: A Kickass Heroine, A Post-Apocalyptic World: Book One Of The Blackjack Trilogy

by Shelley Singer

  “What?” He didn’t invite her in.

  She looked antsy, hopping from one leg to the other like a little kid. “I want to talk to you about something I heard at school.”

  Oh good. High school gossip. “What?” he said again, still patient but showing his disinterest by glancing down at his book.

  “Don’t just stand there saying ‘what’, slug-boy. Let me in. It’s about Billy Scorsi.”

  He sighed. Jesus. That spotty nutbucket? What was he up to now? Drew really didn’t care.

  “Oh, please— you want to talk about Billy?” But she was flushed and scowling. He opened the door wider and his sister came in and threw herself on the bed. Drew slipped a bookmark, the jack of diamonds, into his book and set it on the desk, dropping into a chair and folding his arms across his chest like an impatient parent.

  “Okay. What?” He sighed when she laughed at his third “what,” then grinned back. He knew he was acting like a Newt.

  “I heard from Nancy Tricot that he was bragging to her about how he was going to ‘get’ Hannah Karlow. He’s after Nancy’s underside, you know.” That was more than Drew wanted to know. Billy was sick-fish ugly as well as crazy and Nancy was kind of cute, for a 17-year-old.

  “Go on, please, but leave off the sex part.” She smirked. She was such a kid. Two years could make a big difference.

  “He was talking about how she was our candidate for mayor and he was going to do everybody a big favor and get rid of her. That was the way he put it, she said. ‘Get rid’ of her. And here’s the other interesting part. Even though she insisted Billy didn’t exactly in so many words say so, she got the feeling he was hinting he might have had something to do with Mayor Madera’s killing.”

  “He’s just bragging. I can’t imagine Newt Scorsi would send a scroop like Billy to kill Madera.”

  She thought about that for a moment. “You’re right. But maybe he didn’t send him, Drew.”

  That struck him. Was it possible? He didn’t think Billy could have gone off on his own and done something that big, but he could see Ky or Newt Junior or both of them deciding it would be fun to kill someone and using the family as an excuse. And he could absolutely see Billy hanging the body from a tree.

  He nodded. He was glad he’d listened to Lizzie. This could be nothing, a rash-ass trying to make an impression. Or it could be important. “I think we should talk to Mom. And Jo. Tell them what you heard.”

  * * *

  Jo looked around the room. Samm was there, this time. He was worried, she could tell, his brow furrowed, his eyes downcast. Judith, too, was taking what Lizzie had heard very seriously. She made the kid repeat every word Nancy had said to her and asked everyone in turn, what they thought of the gossip.

  Drew said he thought it could all be true, true that Billy was going to try to kill Hannah, and true that the boys had killed Madera. But, he said, it was hard to know with Billy, since he was a braggart as well as beyond strange. Lizzie nodded energetically when he said that.

  Jo hadn’t been aware that those Scorsi kids were so over the line, but Drew and Liz would know. Yet another generation to worry about.

  Samm’s response was simple: “We need to find out.” He was aiming that at Jo, she knew. And her corps of barely-awake spies.

  Judith, too, was looking at her, waiting. Time for her to say something.

  “I think we at least consider it as a possibility. We need to tell Hannah to watch her backside. I’ll put someone to watching the boys, Billy in particular.” She had only one operative working at Scorsi’s Luck, she thought, who might be sharp enough to do this job. A dealer. He hated Newt, but he was old and arthritic. If he agreed to do harder and more dangerous work, he’d probably want more money, and she didn’t know how long he’d hold up, following kids around.

  Samm responded with a nod. “I think she can take care of herself, better than poor old Madera could. You want me to tell her, or will you?”

  “I will.”

  “All right, then,” Judith said, glancing at the papers on her desk. But Jo had something she wanted to talk about before they all went back to the day’s work.

  She’d heard just that afternoon, out on the floor, that a number of godders had been spotted crossing the border into Sierra.

  “If they were ordinary Rockies,” she said, “I’d guess they were just running away from home.” Samm laughed. “But they don’t seem to be. Word is that some of them are talking about coming to ‘bring the light’ to Sierra. Looks like just another idiot crusade, but it’s possible that Rocky’s sending them in as spies.”

  Samm laughed again. “Godders don’t spy. They rant…” Then he understood where she was going, and sat forward, looking more interested.

  “And corrupt elections with threats, or throw bombs,” Jo said. “Godders sent by Rocky. We need to do anything we can to show what a threat Rocky is.” Samm nodded.

  “What exactly did you have in mind?” Judith asked.

  “This might be the time to push for an anti-godder law, talk about it in our campaigns and really go for it when we have a more solid hold, after the election. A law that gets rid of them and keeps them out, or at least creates a lot of noise about getting rid of them. Enough noise to make the Rocky threat clear to Redwood, and to the voters.” Enough to get things stirred up, anyway.

  Drew was staring at her.

  “What is it, Drew?”

  “That might not be a good idea. Think about what happened back in the teens. I was just today reading—”

  “What happened in the teens? What’s it got to do with now, anyway?” Samm was puzzled and impatient. He often was with Drew’s references to what Samm thought of as ancient history. Lizzie rolled her eyes. But Jo and, when it suited her, Judith, believed in that old cliché: those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it.

  “The crazies got crazier. And stronger. And things got a lot worse.”

  “Well, we won’t let that happen,” Samm said.

  Jo smiled reassuringly at Drew but it didn’t seem to help. Maybe she needed to rethink that idea about an anti-godder law.

  * * *

  I had noticed— I always made a point to— that the Colemans were having yet another family meeting that afternoon. Everybody looked painfully serious. Even Samm seemed upset. When I got to the restaurant for my first shift, I saw Drew and Lizzie huddled with Timmy.

  Timmy would have made a wonderful spy, if he’d had the temperament and the duplicity for it. He knew how to keep his finger on the pulse of things without being threatening. I didn’t know if he ever learned anything important, anything the Colemans were trying to keep quiet, but sometimes simple gossip held more information than people knew it held. Tim would feel free to pass it on to me if I didn’t act too eager. I’d have to have a little chat with him sometime that night. When all this was over, I hoped he’d forgive me for using him this way. I thought that depended on how things worked out.

  It was a couple hours before business quieted down enough to casually approach him.

  He poured me a cup of tea and we sat for a five-minute break while Drew and Lizzie covered the room. Waldo was sitting in the kitchen eating. Or sleeping. I wasn’t interested enough to go back there and find out.

  “So,” I said, stretching and rolling my shoulders. “What’s new?”

  He was dying to tell me.

  “Well, I heard just tonight that the Scorsis are going to try to kill Hannah Karlow!”

  My mind raced in a fast circle, taking little nips at the information. What? What was he talking about? “Really? Because she’s running for mayor?” I pasted a bored look on my face. “Or because she’s ugly?”

  Timmy clucked at me for the nasty remark. “Because she’s the Colemans’ mayor.” This was strange. The Scorsis knew better. Unless they knew something I didn’t— that Hannah was turning. Certainly possible, if she thought there was an advantage to it. A sudden image flashed across my mind: Hannah running down the stree
t with the Scorsis chasing her and me running the opposite way with the Colemans on my tail.

  I nodded, trying to look wise. “That makes me wonder, Tim. Do you think they killed the old mayor, too?”

  “Probably. He favored the Colemans.”

  “Favored them how?”

  “Oh, you know. All kinds of little ways.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well…” he laughed. “He made one of the streets outside Newt’s casino one way— inconvenient for customers, cut his traffic down. Another time— now I don’t know for sure he was behind this— there was some problem with Newt’s liquor license.”

  Wow. Enough of those “little” things and Newt would be apoplectic. I could just see him having the man killed and then trying to blame it on the Colemans.

  “Where’d you hear about this? About Hannah?”

  “Lizzie and Drew. One of the Scorsi boys was bragging at school, to some girl, that he was going to get rid of Karlow.”

  “A boy bragging to a girl? That’s news.” I laughed.

  Tim laughed, too. “I know what you mean, Rica, but the kids think it could be real.”

  Drew seemed like a careful young man who wouldn’t believe something just because it was exciting or showed an enemy in a bad light.

  If there really was such an assassination in the works, I knew what I had to do. Much as I would have preferred to let someone else shoot her off my back, that would not be the best move if I wanted to keep the Colemans from getting more powerful. With Hannah as their candidate, even their mayor, they were crippled. If she were killed, they might find a real one.

  So far, she hadn’t outed me to the Colemans, possibly because she enjoyed holding the threat over my head. If I got to her, warned her, saved her nasty life, she might decide to be my pal. She might even tell me the truth about who she was working for, and stop messing with me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A gentle tug, so subtle I hesitated

  Jo found Hannah in the casino’s storage room tearing down a battered poker slot, one of the casualties of the raid. She was so engrossed she didn’t hear Jo come in, and jumped when she spoke her name.

  “Whoa! What’s up?” Hannah gave her only a quick, smiling glance and focused again on the slot’s innards. “This is the last of them, if you’re wondering.”

  “Good— but that’s not why I’m here. The kids heard a rumor that may or may not mean anything. Lizzie heard it. At school.”

  Hannah laid down the Phillips head screwdriver and turned to give Jo her full attention. “What kind of rumor?” She wasn’t smiling any more. She looked tense around the jaw.

  “That the Scorsis are going to try to kill you. I don’t know if they mean to do it before you’re elected or after, don’t even know if it’s true. I just thought you should be warned.”

  Her eyebrows lifted and her eyes shifted away, off to the side, thoughtful. “Any particular Scorsi? Or do they plan to send a platoon of mercs after me?” She didn’t look worried. That was reassuring. She thought she could handle it.

  “What Liz heard was that Billy was going to do it. Newt’s nephew. He’s around Lizzie’s age.”

  Hannah grinned. “All by himself?”

  Jo shrugged. Maybe Hannah was a little too cocky.

  “I’ll keep my eyes open, Jo.”

  “Do you want someone keeping an eye on you? We could give you a bodyguard.”

  “No!” Sharp, definitive. Almost angry. Jo wondered about that. Too much pride? “Not necessary. Don’t want people thinking the candidate is scared. Send someone with me when I make speeches, maybe, but that’s all.” Hannah thought for a moment. Jo stayed silent, wondering what was coming out of that thin-lipped mouth next. “In fact, maybe I should mention it in my speeches. Not name names or anything, but say I heard someone wanted to kill me, joke about it, show everyone they can’t scare me off, can’t stop me. People love that kind of shit.”

  Sounded like a good plan. Except… “Why not name names?”

  Her eyes shifted away again. “Well, it’s better that way. If I say this kid is making threats, so what, right? But if I don’t say, people will assume it’s the Scorsis. Right? All of them, trying to kill me?”

  Jo thought Hannah’s thinking was a bit tortured, but okay, why not? She wasn’t so sure about letting her wander around alone and vulnerable, but it was what she wanted, she seemed to have a plan for using the problem as propaganda, and she could be replaced if she had to be.

  “That sounds good. But don’t act cocky, okay? Just brave.”

  Hannah shot Jo a sharp look; a corner of her mouth quirked. “You think I’m cocky, Jo?”

  “I don’t care whether you’re cocky or not. Just don’t act that way. People don’t like it, and we’re trying to get you elected.” She turned to go.

  “Okay, Jo,” Hannah said. “You’re the boss.” Jo wished she hadn’t turned away so fast. She couldn’t tell much from the flat tone, but she would have loved to see her expression when she said that. She was guessing that Hannah didn’t like the idea of anyone being her boss.

  On her way back into the heart of the casino, Jo saw Rica, heading toward the restaurant for her first shift. If she kept pulling in crowds at the lounge, they’d have to find another server for the restaurant. Rica deserved at least to work there less than full time.

  She moved gracefully. She was taller than Jo, bigger through the hips, womanly. She looked strong, and that red hair… Sea-green eyes. But the mouth, that was the best. Full. Soft. Jo sighed. Damn it. Even Machiavelli must have spent some time chasing love.

  Jo had been heading toward the bar to check on some overdue and probably missing beer orders. It was too bad they had to come all the way from San Francisco. Even with no-name trucks, beer was a favorite target of bandits. But that could wait. She changed direction, heading toward Judith’s office. They had to send out word that Blackjack needed help in the restaurant. She’d like to give Rica some good news that night. She really would.

  * * *

  Hannah hadn’t shown up at the restaurant for dinner, but I wasn’t worried about finding her to warn her. She was in my line of vision too much of the time as it was.

  And there she was again, in the lounge, sitting near the stage, close enough to leer at me. Jo came in a few minutes later and took a table off to the side, just as she had the night before. She looked good, as always. Dressed in a less businesslike outfit than her usual knickers and vest, wearing a simple white shirt over long gray-blue flowing pants. Silk? Mine were black velvet. Drew slipped in right before the spotlight hit me, sitting at the back again. Samm wasn’t there. I guessed it was because Zack was nursing a sprained finger and couldn’t relieve him at the table. At least that was the late news from Timmy.

  The place was full again, impressive for a Monday night.

  I’d decided for this third performance to lean a little less heavily on the tragic love and a little more on the seductive. Less of the “Autumn Leaves” genre and more of the “Besame Mucho.” Sung slowly and with a jazz edge. Not ready to work myself out of mid-Twentieth yet. After the first few nights, something from the very early Twenty-First would be good. Norah Jones. Dido. Confusion and obsession. I thought that would work for me really well right about now.

  At one point during one of my steamier numbers, I flicked a look toward Jo and she smiled back at me. That smile went right through me. It was all I could do not to squirm. What was it, anyway? Her power? Her look? Her confidence? All of that, but mostly she was just plain sexy. Even when she wasn’t talking to me, that soft voice ran through my mind.

  After my second encore, when the audience finally began to leave, I caught Hannah’s eye and stepped down off the stage. This was my chance to warn her about the danger she might be in. I stopped when I realized that Jo was walking toward me.

  “Another astonishing performance, Rica.” There was that smile again.

  “Thank you, Jo.”

  “Take a walk
with me.”

  Hannah knew I wanted to talk to her. She’d have to keep. If I was late getting back to the restaurant, I didn’t care. We strolled out into the casino together.

  “Let’s get some real air.”

  I nodded. For just a second I wondered again if my cover was blown, but somehow it didn’t feel like she was taking me to an ambush.

  We went out the back door into the parking lot, all the way to the edge where a stand of fir bordered a small park. Alone. Outside, in the dark night.

  I thought of asking if something was wrong but decided silence was the best choice. Especially since my throat was feeling constricted. The combination of attraction and tension was winding me tight as a godder. It was all I could do to keep my walk relaxed and smooth.

  She stopped beside the trunk of a large fir, and leaned her back against it.

  “I think we’re asking you to do too much, Rica. A split shift at the restaurant and singing in the lounge, too.”

  She was speaking very softly. I moved closer. To hear her better.

  “A dinner shift and a show— that’s enough. In fact, we might want to expand the show or do a second one every night. In which case, I don’t see how you could work in the restaurant at all.”

  If I were really a waitress-singer, I’d be worried about losing the tip money. I took a deep breath, catching a scent of something from her skin— lilac?

  “I need what I make in the restaurant. Would you—"

  “Don’t worry about that. We’re making money with the lounge, because of you. We’ll pay you more.”

  “This is wonderful, Jo.” Two shows a night, and no Waldo.

  “It might take us a while to find a replacement, but I wanted you to know we’re working on it.”

  And then she reached out and took my hand. A gentle tug, so subtle I hesitated before I responded and moved even closer, only inches away. Another bit of pressure on my hand and I was kissing her, pressing against her, pushing her against the bark of the tree. She stroked my back. My hair. My hands slid down to her hips. Too fast. I stopped, pulled back. Too much. I could barely breathe. I wasn’t ready to lose control. She was watching me, only the slightest hint of a smile in her eyes.