Rising Waters

by Chloe Garner

  “I’m ready to go,” she said.

  “Dance with me,” Jimmy said again.

  “You. Don’t. Dance.”

  “I would, with you.”

  She stared at him. His face was inscrutable, even for her.

  “You don’t know how,” she said, looking for some clue what this was about. “Neither do I. And not because we haven’t learned. It’s because it isn’t part of us. We don’t dance.”

  He stood, holding a hand out to her.

  “Then prove it to me, and I’ll never ask again.”

  “You won’t ever ask me again, either way,” she said. “We live in Lawrence. And you don’t like rejection. No one says no to you.”

  There was an odd look in his eye, one that she didn’t know what to make of, even as he stepped closer, his fingers sliding across her shoulder, his thumb on her neck, then his cheekbone against hers, his lips at her ear.

  “Then don’t say no,” he breathed.

  Was it a threat?

  Something else?

  She couldn’t tell, but it brought goosebumps to her arms. He tipped his face down, his skin ghosting along hers, and she blinked quickly, evaluating her options as best she could from that degree of off-balance.

  “Okay,” she said. Why had she said that? Why hadn’t she stabbed him in the stomach?

  “Finish your drink,” he said without moving. She gritted her teeth. She could feel his chest move with his breath, where the cloth of his shirt touched her arm. His thumb moved and she actually shivered. She actually shivered.

  “Finish your drink,” he said again, and her hand moved. All by itself. It moved. She picked up the drink and put it to her lips, drawing cold, breathy fluid down her throat in a stream. It made her eyes water for reasons she couldn’t understand.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, still unmoving.

  “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  “I don’t give that promise to many people, and not very often.” She could feel the curve of bone over his eye, there against her temple. “Right now, I give you my word. I am not going to hurt you.”

  She took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the open air as it chilled the depths of her lungs, and his thumb slid down the back of her neck, touching the knives there.

  “Should I disarm you?” he asked.

  “Jimmy,” she said. It was supposed to be threatening, but there was no power there.

  “Come,” he said, stepping away quickly and dropping his hand the length of her arm to find the outside of her hand. She stepped down from the chair and followed him around the side of the club, down a pair of steps, and then they stood at the edge of the wood floor.

  What in hell was she doing? What was she going to do? She didn’t know how to dance. Couples and groups were already out on the floor, more joining them even now, brushing past Jimmy and Sarah as they stood. The energy around them was going up, hands, bodies, mouths involved with each other as the singer started to bounce on his toes.

  She could just see the Lawson boys - Rich and Wade in particular - storming this floor and taking charge of it. Gorging, as Jimmy had put it. Jimmy back up in that corner booth, there, watching, the sort of magnetic draw that kept women stopping at his table.

  He stepped forward, taking her arm out away from her body, then turned to face her, pulling her arm around him, and her feet were on the wood.

  This was the one thing, the one thing that had frightened her in college.

  She didn’t dance. She didn’t understand it. Didn’t much like music, didn’t understand the life and vitality of motion. She’d avoided anywhere that she knew would have dancing, because she didn’t want to have to engage it. She couldn’t mock it - she understood that it wasn’t a problem with dance that kept her from doing it. It was a problem with her.

  And with Jimmy.

  What was he thinking?

  He took her other arm, joining it around his waist with the other, then putting one hand, fingers wide, to the small of her back and running the other up her side to find the back of her neck again.

  It was awkward and strange, being that close against him, in the midst of all of the people there, trying to make it be about noise, with his face fractions of an inch away from hers.

  He put his mouth against hers, drawing her closer, then met her eyes.

  “Thomas is a surprisingly good dancer,” Jimmy said, and something about the moment broke, and she was standing, the biggest woman in the room by a mile, too close to everyone, somewhere she never wanted to be, somewhere she knew better than to end up. Jimmy’s fingers on her back broke the new lock her hips formed, and she nearly stumbled against him, trying to regain her footing.

  He shook his head.

  “Come back to me,” he said. The world narrowed, gray eyes so close, so intent, and she was moving again, though she didn’t know how. He nodded. “I asked him once how he did it, what it was that made him different from the rest of us.”

  “Rich and Wade?” she asked.

  “Bullies,” Jimmy answered. “Some women like that, but it isn’t dancing.”

  “No,” she answered, understanding what he meant. “What did Thomas say?”

  Jimmy’s lips twitched at a portion of a memory.

  “Lots of hopelessly romantic things, but also this. That when you’re dancing with the right person, to the right music, there’s no other way to be so alone with them.”

  “The rest of it was more romantic?” Sarah asked, and he smiled, real humor.

  “Rhoda is an astonishing dancer,” he said, and she nodded.

  “I could see that.”

  There was another shiver down her arms. The thought of Jimmy with Rhoda. The woman belonged with Thomas - having someone tell her that made it obvious, as though she should have seen it from the beginning - but she would have been a fine match to Jimmy as well. Where Sarah and Jimmy were strength on strength, her strengths lined up with his weaknesses. A very different kind of power couple, but a frightening one, all the same.

  “I told myself, that night, that if I ever got the chance, I would try… with you,” he said. He ticked his head toward the stage. “They were playing, that evening. There were twelve of us, trying to get home. Women like him.”

  “I can see why,” Sarah answered, and Jimmy laughed, honest surprise.

  “Can you?”

  “Sex on legs,” she answered, and Jimmy’s eyebrows went up.

  “I can’t believe you just said that.”

  “I had a roommate in college who used to call guys that,” Sarah said. “He was exactly her type.”

  Jimmy laughed, then found the spot behind her ear with his thumb. He kissed her again, deep, slow, then held her firm against him, his face alongside hers so that she could feel his eyelashes brush against her cheekbone.

  She let her eyes close, feeling exposed and underprepared, but trying, letting herself appreciate the warm of Jimmy’s body against hers, the way he moved, like the feel of a horse, something that she could feel and understand to the point of predicting what he would do next. The way he had his hands, there was a phantom of an idea that she was more akin to the horse than the rider, but she didn’t let the thought linger.

  Thomas had said he wanted her to be happy. That he thought she deserved it.

  She’d brushed it aside, at the time, but here, right now, she let it happen. There weren’t many moments in life that were simple and complete like this, and even for all the reasons that it shouldn’t have been possible, she let it go.

  The song ended in a low, vibrating, melodic hum, and Sarah turned her face away, finding Jimmy’s hands loose. He let her go, and she took one step back, watching him.

  “Did you get what you came for?” she asked.

  “I should go see Nuke, talk to him for a few minutes, but the right people saw us.”

  The sweet warm of the moment cooled, and she gave him a dour look.

  “This is part of the message, isn’t it? For Pres
ton and the investors and… everyone?”

  “Yes,” he said. “But it doesn’t make it less true.” He took her hand, walking off of the wood floor and back onto the carpet, and she followed, feeling the impulse to pull her hand away and entertaining it for the first several steps, then it was too late and she just followed.

  There was a door behind the bar - no one questioned Jimmy as he opened it - and Sarah found herself in a quiet, dim office with a one-sided view of the club from behind the bar.

  “Evening, Jimmy,” a man said without looking up. “Everything the way you hoped?”

  “They’re better than they were back then,” Jimmy answered. “How much?”

  “They wanted two arms and a leg, but I negotiated them down to just one,” the man said, setting down a pen and looking up. “She’s prettier than anyone let on.”

  “All part of the disguise,” Jimmy answered. “How is everything?”

  “You get my summaries,” Nuke said. “I don’t have a lot else to tell you.”

  “How long has the bartender been blue?” Jimmy asked.

  “Isla,” Nuke said, shifting in his chair and weaving his hands behind his head. “She’s new. She was purple when I interviewed her. I told her it would have to be blue, if she was going to work here, and that was how she turned up, for her first day.”

  “Is that in style again?” Sarah asked. Nuke scratched his chin.

  “If it is, we’re on the leading edge.”

  “Should have her do the logo on her shoulder,” Jimmy said.

  “Not how dying usually works,” Nuke told him.

  “I bet you can find someone,” Jimmy said, and Nuke grinned.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” He stood and came around the desk, leaning against it. He had a slender, quick build, and well-groomed dark hair, but he was mostly unnotable, which was likely an advantage in his role.

  “You coming back to Preston more?” he asked, watching Sarah but speaking to Jimmy.

  “Lot of work to do in Lawrence,” Jimmy answered. “I’d like to open a Wild Blue there, at some point down the road, but it’s a long way down the road, now.”

  Nuke nodded.

  “You going to ask me to move out there?”

  “No,” Jimmy said. “You’re here as long as you want to be here.”

  “Thomas said she wouldn’t come,” Nuke said.

  “They may be friends, but he doesn’t know her like I do,” Jimmy said.

  “Don’t like people talking about me while they look at me,” Sarah said. “I’m not a painting.”

  Nuke crossed his arms.

  “They all talked about you. All the time, when they first moved out here. You feel more like a painting than a real person.”

  “Doesn’t change anything,” she answered.

  “How do you like the club?” he asked.

  “It’s excessive,” she said, “but I gather that that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

  He nodded.

  “Exclusive and excessive go together,” he said agreeably. “How did you like your drink?”

  “Aren’t you cozy in here?”

  “Sasha came back here to tell me that Jimmy was here, right after she took your orders. I wanted to call it the Lawrence special, but he insisted on the absenta thing.”

  “Definitely has more class,” Sarah said. “You don’t sell things from Lawrence because they’re from Lawrence.”

  He laughed.

  “That’s what he said.”

  “Let me see your payroll,” Jimmy said, and Nuke shoved himself up off of the desk, getting a screen off of the desk’s surface and tapping it a few times, then handing it to Jimmy and watching Sarah again. Sarah might have expected a certain amount of resentment from the manager, having the owner show up with no notice and demanding to see his records, but Nuke seemed relaxed.

  This wasn’t a man who was stealing from Jimmy, nor was he inept.

  Well, if he was stealing, it was little enough and careful enough that he wasn’t worried about Jimmy finding it or minding.

  Jimmy nodded as Sarah watched Nuke, then Jimmy put the screen back onto the desk.

  “Running it tight,” he said, and Nuke shrugged, not moving.

  “You told me you wanted prestige, not profit.”

  “But at this point, prestige should be driving profit,” Jimmy said.

  “Night clubs don’t last here,” Nuke said. “Always someone younger and cooler than you. We’ve had a good run, and I don’t plan on letting Wild Blue go, any time soon. As soon as you start trying to drag a profit out of this place, it’s going to die, Lawson.”

  “Anyone squeezing you?” Jimmy asked.

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” Nuke said, easing off of the desk and going to sit in his chair again.

  “What does that mean?” Sarah asked.

  “He wants to know if anyone’s leaning on me to use specific services…” Nuke started.

  “She knows what squeezing is,” Jimmy said. “What she’s asking is what you mean, that you’re handling it.”

  Nuke looked up at Sarah, and she stayed still, watching.

  “Night clubs,” Nuke said. “It’s a tricky business. Everyone knows that.”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “Mining’s a tricky business. Night clubs are just booze and cleaning staff.”

  He looked at Jimmy for backup, but Jimmy didn’t give him an inch.

  “Damn,” Nuke said. “You are like they said.”

  Sarah shrugged.

  “Answer the question, Nuke,” Jimmy said.

  “All right,” Nuke said. “It’s a pair of brothers. Want to do all the lighting. Say that we aren’t up to code, unless we’re using their bulbs. I told them no, and they kept moving, but they came back twice last week, telling me that other clubs have gotten shut down over the lighting, and telling me they want to replace everything.”

  Jimmy snorted, but Sarah had her back up.

  “Don’t they know who owns this place?” she asked.

  Nuke shrugged.

  “Look, Jimmy’s reputation is as good as they get, but he’s not here. And it’s a nightclub. Everyone’s a tough guy, in this business.”

  Sarah drew one of the knives from between her shoulderblades, holding it between thumb and forefinger and standing. Nuke’s eyes went to it, darting over to Jimmy once, then coming back to look at the point of the knife.

  “Look, no disrespect at all, but this isn’t a blade business…” he said. She nodded.

  “I know that. Well. I know it as well as you do, but I know more than you do.” She looked over at Jimmy. His hand was shifted so that his wrist was resting gently on the gun at his waist.

  “You’ve got a gun in your top drawer,” she said. Pursed her lips. “I even bet you’ve pulled it out a few times, made a cutting figure, powerful, like that. Am I right?”

  “I manage problems when they come up,” Nuke answered slowly.

  “I put the point of this knife into a man’s brain the day of my wedding,” she said. Nuke jerked his attention back to Jimmy.

  “You got married?” he asked. “Congratulations. I hadn’t heard. Um.”

  His hand was on the drawer. She shook her head.

  “I wouldn’t,” she said. “He’s armed, and you know what kind of man he is.”

  Nuke swallowed.

  “Jimmy. I’ve done a good job for you, haven’t I? Got the club up to top-notch, like you said, kept it there all these years. Your reputation here is still sterling, and Wild Blue is part of it.”

  “If you’ve got a couple of guys leaning on you,” Sarah said, “then you aren’t keeping up.”

  “I told you, I can handle it,” Nuke said. Sarah looked at Jimmy.

  He hadn’t moved. He was relaxed the way Dog watching a cornered varmint was relaxed, right up until he sprang.

  Sarah sat down on the corner of the desk, crooking her knee over the edge, in front of the drawer Nuke was preoccupied with.

 
“It’s a good thing you didn’t draw on my wife,” Jimmy said, his voice even. “I would have had to kill you, and I’ve always liked you. When I’m not here, you can handle things. I trust you. But when I’m standing here, I expect you to tell me that someone is trying to extort you. I don’t appreciate competition.”

  Sarah pulled a pad of paper from under her cape and slid the knife back into its flat sheath on her back.

  “If you were to contact these gentlemen about going ahead and replacing the lights, how would you do it?”

  The muscle in Nuke’s jaw wiggled and he looked at Jimmy.

  “You do rock the boat,” he said.

  “I like to make money,” Jimmy told him. “The minute I’m not the strongest man in a place, I no longer make money. Someone else comes and takes it.”

  Nuke shook his head, then looked up at Sarah.

  “You really kill a guy with that?”

  “In a purple wedding dress,” Jimmy confirmed, and Nuke shook his head.

  “Damn. Maybe I will come out to Lawrence to help set up the Wild Blue out there. Just for a while.”

  Sarah gave him a flat smile.

  “I don’t think you’d enjoy it.”

  “Still,” he said. “I never believed… The stuff they said about you. I didn’t think it was true.”

  “Every word,” Jimmy said without emotion. “Address?”

  Nuke wrote it down and tore the page off, handing it to Jimmy.

  “Just don’t get us shut down, okay?” he asked. “They like to pretend that Preston is a civilized city.”

  “They all do,” Jimmy said, tucking the paper away. Sarah stood and went to the door, leaning her shoulder against it.

  “You’re doing good work, Nuke. Thank you,” Jimmy said.

  “See you next trip, Jimmy,” Nuke answered. Jimmy opened the door and Sarah rolled, leading the way out of the office.

  --------

  Jimmy had the bartender summon a taxi for them, and they waited outside. Clouds had come to obscure the stars and the air smelled wet.

  “Strange,” Sarah murmured. “Not to worry about rain.”

  Jimmy laughed softly, and they waited, elbow at elbow. She could have overstepped. It was entirely possible. Drawing a knife on a man that Jimmy trusted was certainly a good example of what that might look like. But he’d gone along with it, and she didn’t take it back. Not for a moment.