Tea Leafing: A Novel

by Weezie Macdonald

  “Fuck,” Gio muttered.

  “Giovanni! It’s yuh ma!”

  “Hey ma, I’m in the living room.”

  Pietra appeared with a casserole dish loaded with what appeared to be veal Parmesan.

  “I brought you yuh favorite dish.” She paused, “What awe you doin’ drinkin’ at this time a day?” Setting the Pyrex down roughly on the table she marched to Gio and squeezed his face with her fingers. “Awe you drunk?”

  “No Ma! I’m just thinkin’. I’m a grown-up remember? I can fuckin’ do what I want and right now I wanna’ drink.”

  Pietra took a step back and landed her bracelet-laden wrists on her hips. Her mouth pursed, eyes darting behind lenses tinted in a graduating shade of tan from top to bottom. Two small diamonds were set on either side of a gold “P” appliqué on the front of her left lens.

  “Watchya mouth. What would yuh fatha’ say if he heard you tawkin’ like that?”

  Gio turned and continued his pacing. “Get off my back. I got things to think about.”

  “Well, I nevuh!” She stood her ground for a minute, thinking about what to do next. Clearly this wasn’t the reception she expected from her favorite son. Finally, she turned toward the kitchen, grabbing the veal as she went.

  “You need food. I’m heating this up and we’ll tawk once your stomach is full.” She jingle-jangled off into the recesses of the house.

  Gio sighed, knowing he was going to have to talk to her for the umpteenth time about not popping in at the club. He knew she wouldn’t listen and it irritated him. Fedya was losing his temper and the Pussycat was a relatively cushy job Gio wasn’t interested in screwing up.

  CHAPTER 58

  “Nikki’s dead.” Joe’s news came through the phone line like a freight train.

  “What?” Sam sat perched on the edge of the couch.

  Sensing something was wrong, Grace pumped the button on the remote to turn the TV volume down.

  “Well, the official report at this time is that she OD’d on coke. She was found on the floor of the bathroom in her room at the Four Seasons in Nevis.”

  “I,” Sam stuttered, “I don’t know what to say. Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, she’s in the morgue, but the autopsy won’t be finished until tomorrow afternoon. Apparently there has been a rash of shark attacks, and they’re a little backed up. We’ve tried to push it through as quickly as possible, but there’s only so much they can do.”

  Sam let out a breath.

  “What?” Grace mouthed, wide-eyed.

  “Nikki’s dead.”

  Grace fell back into the cushions.

  “What?” Joe sounded concerned.

  “Nothing, Grace’s here. Just told her what happened.”

  “You can tell the girls, but don’t let this get out. We don’t want leaks until we’ve had more time to investigate.”

  “No problem. I, uh, I’m at a loss for words. I mean, we weren’t close but I wouldn’t have wished her dead.” Sam paused, “Was Fedya there?”

  Grace scrambled through her bag for her cell phone. She speed dialed Mary Jane as she walked to the bathroom.

  “Well, sort of. He was on the island, but the two were booked in separate rooms. He paid cash for her room but put his on a card. The hotel staff remembered it because he’s a regular guest and, although it goes against policy, he insisted his card not be used for her room. Said it was so his wife wouldn’t find out. Buncha bullshit.”

  “So, did he find her, or what?”

  “I can only tell you so much. A lot of this is classified you realize?”

  “Yeah, so go ahead anyway.”

  “He was apparently having lunch with some South American friends at a nearby cafe. The maids found her when they went to make up her room. He’s not putting much effort into playing the grieving boyfriend. Spent the morning tanning by the pool.”

  “Wow,” Sam chewed her lip. “I wonder if it was really an OD. Not that it would surprise me, but how’d she get a hold of the drugs? I’m sure it’s not that difficult to find in the Caribbean, but she didn’t travel with them, did she?”

  “They flew down on his private jet and made it through customs okay. He’s booked to take a British Airways flight to London, then on to Yekaterinburg on Sunday. So far, he’s not a suspect in the investigation there, so he’s free to go. He’s got solid alibis, no matter how shady they may be.”

  “We’ll keep our ears to the ground for you.”

  “How about laying low for a while? I get the feeling you four are up to something. We don’t need help that badly and I don’t want you ladies stirring up trouble. Understand?”

  Sam’s stomach tightened with the same knot, it always had when she lied, “No problem. I’ll pass the word along.”

  “Sam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “My boys wanted me to pass along the thank you for the creative refresher course in surveillance techniques you girls piped in for them. I’m hoping you were just messing around, not covering something up.”

  Sam gave a nervous laugh she hoped would sound natural, “We’re just trying to keep them on their toes, that’s all.”

  “Be careful.” The line went dead.

  CHAPTER 59

  “What the fack is this?” Birdie pointed to the typewritten list of rules taped every two feet down the mirrors in the dressing room. “Since when did gum chewing become a punishable offense?”

  Mary Jane shook her head as she double wrapped her apron strings around her waist.

  “Just ignore it, Bird,” Grace soothed.

  “No! This is outrageous! They treat us like slaves when we’re the ones puttin’ porridge on their tables! Fack this!”

  Grumbled obscenities echoeded through the dressing room. Lucille stood at the edge of the central mirror, clipboard pressed to her sagging chest.

  “Ten minutes, girls!” She sounded the countdown to the mandatory floor time.

  Dancers shuffled quickly around one another trying to make the cut-off and avoid what was now a seventy-five dollar fine. Lycra and stretch knits flew from bags, heavy shoes thudded against the floor and make-up cases rattled in a last ditch effort to make the cut-off.

  Sam grabbed Birdie’s arm. “Just cool it, Birdie.”

  Yanking her arm away, Birdie stepped close to Sam “Yer not me mum, so just shut the fack up Sam.”

  Sam stood to her full height of six foot one in her heels. “Back up, Birdie. We don’t need to do this here.” Her hands trembled. “You know you need to relax.”

  Birdie stood her ground, nostrils flaring. Grace and Mary Jane jumped to attention and wedged themselves between the two.

  “We’re all on the same side here guys.”

  Let’s handle this later, okay?” Mary Jane whispered.

  “Beat each other to hell next week if you want, but not now,” Grace added.

  Birdie blew out an angry breath and stomped toward the door.

  Sam was shaking too hard to bother with her liquid eyeliner.

  “Fuck it.” She threw the tube against the mirror.

  Grace and Mary Jane grabbed her hands and led her to the floor where they would have a few minutes to compare notes before plunging into the Thursday night crowd.

  CHAPTER 60

  “Such a shame.” Fedya said nonchalantly. He touched the corner of each card, fanning them in his hand before lifting his cigar from its tray and drawing deeply from the chewed tip. His eyes moved to the other four players at the table, one at a time, trying to read their faces. He loved playing competitive games with his associates because it helped him learn their game faces and more importantly, their tells.

  “What do they say? Just say NO!” He grinned at his own joke and was rewarded with the sinister chuckles from his opponents. “Such beauuuty wasted. She will be missed.” He paused and studied his cigar. “By someone, I’m sure.”

  Hoarse chuckles.

  The portly Colombian man across the table from Fedya leaned back in his
chair “Eef more peeple say no, wee would be out oof beezness, mi amigo.”

  Fedya tapped the edge of his stacked cards on the table, “This is truth.”

  The group sat around a large, round table set up for them to play their usual game of poker. The location always changed, but the players remained the same. Tonight it was in the back room of a small bodega in Charlestown, situated on the western coast of Nevis. Since the island had its own system of government, it was a safe place to meet. The local police and business owners were easily quieted through healthy donations. Prior to their arrival, the building had been swept for listening devices. Guards for the various bosses patrolled the perimeter. Staring into the darkened jungles surrounding them, the safeties of their automatic weapons were disengaged.

  “Thank you Aldo, for helping me with this problem. I owe you.”

  “No problem Feedya, you do enough for me. We haf boullion to move and money to make, so salud, to my partneers in crime!” Aldo raised his glass.

  “Budem zdorovy!” Fedya joined the toast.

  CHAPTER 61

  After the narrowly averted scuffle in the dressing room, the night was uneventful. That is, until the club closed.

  Birdie passed her evening in one of the VIP rooms while Sam and Grace worked the floor. The money was flowing, and despite being invited into several rooms themselves, both were nervous and preferred to stay busy dancing. VIPs were great, but they required more skilled conversation and mental energy than either girl could muster at present. They didn’t see Birdie at all, since she’d tipped her way out of stage sets and full dress walkout, preferring instead to hole up and lick her wounds. Toward the end of the evening, one of the waitresses reported to Mary Jane that Birdie was three sheets to the wind and was way past the point of belligerence.

  Standing in a group outside the dressing room, Sam, Grace, and Mary Jane saw Gio poke his head into the Pussycat Powder Room and ask, “Any of yous seen Nikki?” The response must have been no because he lurched back out, made a face, and walked toward the trio.

  “Gio.” Grace reached her hand out as if to stop him, “Is everything okay?”

  “Just lookin’ for Nikki,” he paused “Seen her?”

  The three shook their heads “No,” each one maintaining a poker face and trying not to glance at the others.

  Seeing that he was truly distressed, Sam touched his sleeve. And lied. “She’ll turn up.”

  He gave a frustrated nod and was a few steps away when Birdie appeared, stepping from the elevator. One of the bouncers was helping her across the floor past the main stage. Her eyes lingered lazily from chair to chair rather than on the floor in front of her.

  “One a’ you gonna be able to get her home?” Gio nodded toward Birdie.

  Grace and Mary Jane looked at Sam. Sam was torn. Was it worth the risk to demand that they send Birdie home in a cab? That could backfire tenfold if Birdie reacted in an unpredictable way. Unpredictability was the only predictable thing about her. Sam chewed her lip. If Birdie self-immolated, she might just take their meticulously crafted plan for Saturday night with her.

  “All right. We’ll take her.”

  Gio raised his eyebrow as if surprised by her reluctance.

  Birdie and the bouncer had trotted up next to the group and Birdie’s gaze locked on Sam.

  Lunging forward, she connected with Sam’s jaw in a well-placed uppercut. Everything went into slow motion as Sam’s head snapped and she lost her balance. Sam scrambled to a crouch and plowed into Birdie, taking her down onto the sticky wood floor in a low tackle. Shoes, earrings, and a random clip-in hairpiece flew. Crowding around the brawl, Grace, Mary Jane, Gio, and the bouncer all tried to grab hold of the girls, but Sam and Birdie were too quick. Rolling away in a tangled mass, they continued to pummel away at each other. In a squatted run, the team of referees chased after them grunting and swearing.

  “What the fuck is wrong wit’ you?” Gio shouted over the shrieks.

  Sam managed to twist to the top and straddle Birdie, pinning her to the floor with her knees. Birdie held a wad of Sam’s hair in a death grip, trying to pull her off. Being sober, Sam had the upper hand in speed. She pulled Birdie’s tube dress up over her head as she jumped to a squat over her writhing legs. The effect was the same as “shirting” an opponent in a hockey match, and in this case it worked. The ruckus had attracted four other bouncers who got control of Birdie.

  Sam collapsed to the side, ignoring the nasty grit from the floor, in which she was now covered. A trickle of blood seeped from a split on her lip. But aside from a multitude of scrapes and scratches, she seemed okay. Looking up at Gio, Grace, and Mary Jane, she said, “Scrappy little bitch, ain’t she?”

  Laughter broke the tension. Grace and Mary Jane knelt down on either side of her. Gio bent down in front, checking her over to make sure she was all right, or maybe to make sure the club wasn’t going to get sued.

  “Remind me never to piss you off, Sam.” He smiled. An unusual act for him.

  “Too late for that, Gio.” Sam returned the smile.

  They could still hear Birdie screaming obscenities as the bouncers dragged her into the dressing room.

  “Still wanna take her home?” Gio raised his thick eyebrows and glanced at Grace.

  “Oh, yes!” Sam interjected, “I’m gonna kick her ASS once I get her off your property!”

  Gio winked. “I’m sure you awe, Sam. Maybe yous should take it easy tonight and go at it again tomorrow.”

  “We’ll take care of it, Gio.” Mary Jane said, removing her work apron and wrapping the long ties around the bundle.

  “Am I suspended again?” Sam dropped her head fearing they may have just blown their chance.

  “Nope. You were just defending yourself.”

  Sam looked up at Gio, not sure whether to believe his unexpected burst of rational thought.

  “Birdie is though. One week and five hundred bucks.” His eyes skimmed the group. “She’s becoming a fuckin’ liability. I just can’t afford to have her screwing shit up here.”

  “We understand. Can you cut her a break though? Let her finish Chicken Plucker’s and suspend her starting Monday?”

  “Sorry, hurting her money is the whole point. She gets away with this, she thinks I’m a fuckin’ pushover.”

  “We’ll get her back in line,” Mary Jane touched Sam’s head and looked at her rapidly bloating lip, “Or at least, we’ll try.”

  “I’ll have the boys bring your cars around. What do you want me to have them do wit’ her?” Gio said nodding toward the dressing room.

  Sam looked up, “Hog tie her and carry her out front.”

  “Are you serious?”

  The three quickly nodded. “It’s the only way we can keep her under control until she sobers up. Would you want to drive on I-85 at four-thirty a.m. with a Tasmanian devil in the car?”

  “Consider it done.”

  CHAPTER 62

  “It was pure, as in uncut. Hard to come by a grade like that, even if your connections are excellent. Usually the cutting process starts at the processing plant, then it’s cut again at several stops along the way,” the agent on the other end reported.

  “Okay.” Joe’s eyebrows gathered as he jotted notes into his small tablet.

  “To get a chemical this pure, it had to come from someone very close to the grower. That, or someone powerful enough to get an untouched product. In any case, it looks like this girl amped up with what she thought was her normal dosage and it literally blew her mind.” The agent on the other end of the line chuckled.

  Joe understood that morgue humor was the way a lot of investigators dealt with the constant stream of carnage, but it still bothered him. “Mmm. So what was the actual cause of death? A hemorrhage?”

  “Yeah, looks like she had a stroke then went into cardiac arrest. Not a pretty way to go.”

  “What’s the word on the Russian?”

  “Can’t pin it on him. Other than the room charges being p
aid in cash he’s kept himself squeaky clean. We couldn’t even find his prints in her room. He’s a sleazy mother fucker, no question about it. But he’s also slick as a greased eel in a tub of Jell-O.”

  “Right. Keep me posted.” Joe disconnected and turned his attention back to his notes.

  CHAPTER 63

  Birdie was the last to rise. Walking into the kitchen and rubbing her eyes, she noticed the remnants of duct tape on her wrists.

  “Bloody . . . Wha’ sort of kinky shit did I get into last night?” she squinted, head throbbing.

  “You were out of control, Bird.” Mary Jane gave her a stern look.

  “We had them tape your wrists and ankles just to get you home,” Grace said.

  “Fack. Why am I so sore and how many people do I have to apologize to?”

  “Well for starters, you went fisticuffs with Sam.”

  Birdie moaned and looked at Sam, who was pouring hot water from a kettle into a mug for her. Sam turned, revealing a fat lip and scratches running the length of her face and down her neck. Offering the steeping tea to Birdie, Sam managed a crooked smile. Birdie wrapped her hands around the body of the cup.

  Smack!

  Sam slapped Birdie so hard she lost her footing and tumbled backwards. Tea splashed the floor and cabinets of the loft’s kitchen as the mug clattered to the floor.

  “That’s for the sucker punch. Now we’re even.” Sam offered Birdie a hand and helped her back to her feet. “I’m sorry Bird. That hurt you more than it hurt me.” She smiled.

  “Guess I most likely deserved that, eh?” Birdie rubbed a red mark on her arm where the drink had scalded her. A perfect outline of Sam’s handprint glowed pink on her cheek.

  Sam pulled Birdie into a hug and talked into her hair. “Can you do this Bird? I know you’re taxed, but we all are. If you want out you’ve got to do it now. Fuck around and blow this … we’re all dead.”

  Birdie nodded, pressing her eyes shut again as tears flowed.

  “Sorry, Sam. I’m so sorry. I’ll keep my cool. I promise I won’t blow it.” She hugged Sam back. Hard.