(Re)Visions: Alice ((Re)Visions)

by Kaye Chazan

  I meet it, head on. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, though. Would you?”

  She knows it’s not really a question. “I don’t like it when people give me orders, Jack.” It’s not really an answer, except for how it tells me everything I need to know.

  “So, what? You looking to take his place? Trying to score with Duchess?”

  "Your information is a little dated, Jack. I've been there and done that already. That's old news." She sips at the whiskey, closes her eyes and hums in pleasure at the taste of it, or maybe it's the burn. Either way, she's honestly enjoying it. Just my damn luck.

  "Duchess leans on me now," she says, "I'm as good as his right hand."

  She might be talking euphemisms. Duchess and I have similar tastes when it comes to the ladies, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’s mixed business with pleasure. The way Alice is smirking, I can tell she knows what I'm thinking.

  "Frank trusts me, Jack. Same way the Queen trusts you. Same way the Queen needs you, much more than you need her. We have a lot in common, you and me."

  Something about the way she says that sets my teeth on edge. It hits me like a bat to the head that she knows a lot about me, and despite all my trying, I've still got next to nothing on her. I do know this, though: She may work for Duchess, but nobody's in charge of Alice. She makes her own rules.

  I try not to let this show. "Sure we do. Is that why you're here? You thought we should be pals, on account of all the things we got in common?"

  She tilts her head, like I'm amusing her. "Is that so ridiculous? It's a hard life. It can get really lonely in this city."

  "Duchess lets you get lonely?" I'm trying for wry, but I feel like an asshole the second it's out of my mouth. Alice just smiles again, that small one, and I wonder what it might look like if she meant it, her smile.

  "Wasn't talking about me, Jack," she says in a voice like silk, and she reaches over and puts her hand on my knee, lets her fingers trace my inseam high enough that her intent is clear.

  That snaps me back to business quick, and I’ve got a grip on her wrist before I know it. I’m not saying I’m not tempted, but I’m not a fool. "I think we should talk about you. I think you should tell me why you're really here."

  Alice jerks her arm back, but I don't let go, and now she looks surprised. It only lasts for a second, her blue eyes shocked and wide, and then she's calm and neutral again. Maybe a little more cautious.

  "I underestimated you, Jack," she says, and maybe that's a little bit of respect in her voice. I like the way it sounds. She opens her hand, showing she's not a threat, and I can feel the tendons in her wrist as she moves, shifting slow under her soft skin.

  "I thought I had you all figured out," she continues. "Thought you'd be an easy mark."

  I narrow my eyes at her. I've been a lot of things in my life, but never easy. "Sorry to disappoint."

  "Oh, I'm not disappointed," and she's not; she's laughing, and it's real. "Far, far from it." She slides her hand away and this time I let her, let her stand up and toss the rest of her drink back in one long swallow, handing me the glass as she licks her lips, and I'm just trying not to stare.

  "I mean it, though," she says, heading for the door. "We could be really great together, Jack. Think it over."

  There are a million reasons why I shouldn't let her go. For the Queen's safety, for mine; hell, I should be making the call right now, should be doing my damn job. I shouldn't let her leave this room, shouldn't let her say one more word.

  But I know I'm going to, and that scares me more than she does.

  "Alice," I say, and she stops, her hand on the doorknob; looks at me over her shoulder with a smile like she thinks she's won. I'm not ready to call it just yet.

  "Who's Dinah?"

  Alice cocks her head, amused, like I've surprised her again. "Dinah? Why, Dinah's a pussycat. You aren't afraid of a pussycat, are you?" She raises her eyebrow in an elegant arch, and suddenly she’s got me. If she asked again, I’d follow her into hell itself. If she wanted me to spill, I’d tell her everything.

  I don’t let it show. “Never have been, never will be,” I say, cockier than I feel, but it works; Alice gives me an appraising look, slow, and I feel it just as sure as a touch. Maybe I’m not the only one who’s been looking for a challenge.

  “We’ll see about that,” she smiles. “Goodnight, Jack.” The door clicks shut behind her and I stand there staring at it, listening to her heels go down the hallway and wondering what the hell just happened. Wondering exactly how much trouble I’m in.

  It’s not the kind of trouble I was expecting.

  I lean against the faded brick wall and light up a cigarette, just a regular joe taking a smoke break in a regular alleyway. At least, that’s what I want people to see. I won’t have long to wait, anyway.

  A flutter to my left catches my attention, the torn scrap of a campaign poster from the last caucus race. Some dodo who thinks he can change the world. It’s never going to change, not here, not in Wonderland, and all these idiots are just chasing each other around in circles.

  “You ain’t supposed to be here,” Cookie’s voice interrupts my thoughts. I don’t look at him as he leans against the brick next to me, but it’s not easy. The man takes up space better than most buildings.

  “How’s the Rabbit?” I ask, hushed but casual. Small talk, to anyone passing by.

  “I ain’t supposed to tell you,” he shrugs. “I ain’t supposed to tell you nothin.’”

  I lean my head against the brick. Nothing’s ever easy these days. “Says who? Frankie doesn’t even know we’re friends.”

  “We ain’t friends, Jack,” Cookie snaps, looking straight at me. Then, just as quickly, he recovers, remembers that people might be watching. “We’re whatsitcalled… business associates.”

  No way I believe he came up with that on his own. “So how’s Alice settling in?”

  He looks at me again, mouth open and eyes wide like I’ve just slapped him. “How did you…? I mean, no. Who? I ain’t supposed to tell you anything.” It takes him longer to regroup this time. He doesn’t quite manage it.

  I smile, not at him, exactly, but in his general direction. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I’ve got all I need to know. For now.” He looks almost comically relieved. I drop my cigarette, crush it out under my heel, and hand him a note. Usually I end our conversations by passing him an envelope, and I can see his confusion even out of the corner of my eye.

  “Had to make a drop,” I explain. “I don’t like to carry that much on me. Trust me, it’ll be worth your while.”

  Cookie grins like a dope as I make my exit. Remember what I said about getting your hand out of the basket without getting caught? It helps if someone else’s hand gets caught first.

  And maybe early retirement isn’t the first thing on my mind anymore, not with Alice around, but it never hurts to have a plan B. I’m a firm believer in having options.

  Now, I’m not the kind of person to waste his time thinking about a woman—never have been and never will be—but there’s something about Alice that won’t leave me alone. Little bits and pieces of things— the soft curl of her hair, the bright white gleam of her teeth when she laughed, the curve of her full pink lips—keep flashing in my mind at the damnedest times. When I wake up. When I’m falling asleep.

  When I’m standing on my boss’s rooftop keeping watch while she’s sunbathing. That’s awkward for a whole host of reasons.

  It’s been quiet lately. Not even the Rats & Birds are moving—staying still, staying underground. People seem to be enjoying the rare peace in the city. Even the Queen looks relaxed.

  Me, I’m not relaxed. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know what this is; this is the calm before the storm, and maybe no one else sees it, but I’m not going to let it catch me off guard.

  “Will you sit down, Jack? You’re making me tense just looking at you,” the Queen snaps, even though she doesn’t look tense. She�
�s leaning back on her chaise, eyes half-closed under her sunglasses. The sunlight catches the silver streaks in her short dark hair, and maybe she’s starting to show her age, but she’s determined to be glamorous about it, all pale skin and red lips against the black.

  “It’s my job to stay alert,” I say. “I thought that’s what you pay me for.”

  The sleek fabric of her designer swimsuit shimmers like an oil slick as she twists around to face me. “I pay you to do what I tell you to, so sit the fuck down.”

  I do. It’s not worth it to fight her. It rarely ever is. She turns over, melting into the chaise once again, soaking up the sun. I can feel my trigger finger tapping against my leg, an unconscious movement. It’s silent on the rooftop, just the soft rustle of the breeze in the hedges, like a sigh. I’m thinking about Alice again.

  Goddamnit.

  “I want to have a party,” the Queen says, out of nowhere.

  “A party?”

  “Is there a fucking echo up here? Yes, Jack, a party. You know, fancy clothes, decent food, people getting hammered and telling their secrets to the world; having furtive, kinky sex in the coatroom? Sound familiar?”

  She’s never going to let me forget last year’s gala. “Yes, ma’am, I know what a party is.”

  “Good. Get Kingsley to start that for me, will you? Invite Duchess and his men.”

  And there it is, there’s that shoe I was waiting for. “Ma’am, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Damn sure,” she says. “What better way to find out what that crooked bastard is up to? Friends close, enemies closer, isn’t that the way it goes?”

  I swallow hard. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She pulls her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to stare at me. “You okay, Jack? I don’t like it when you get all quiet and agreeable. It makes me nervous.”

  “I’m fine,” I lie. “I think it’s a shitty idea, but you’re the boss. You tell me you want to let your biggest rival into your house and risk having him poke through your business while everyone dresses up and gets drunk, that’s up to you. What do I know? I just run your security.”

  “There’s the Jack I know,” the Queen smiles, vicious. “Now shut the fuck up and do what I say.”

  I stand up and bow. “Of course, my lady.”

  “Oh, get out of here,” she laughs, so I know I’m still on her good side. Good; that’s the place I want to be for as long as I can.

  I’ve been in the sun for so long that the cool air inside the penthouse hits me like a wall, making my skin pebble up with goosebumps. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust, so it seems like Kingsley comes out of nowhere.

  Not that he stands out under normal circumstances. He’s not a tall man: average build, average brown hair, average hazel-brown eyes. If beige were a person, it would be Kingsley Hart. I don’t know what the Queen sees in him. He pretty much takes care of her domestic matters, and they’ve been an item for a couple of years now. I don’t call him a housewife, but then again, I don’t really need to.

  “Queenie wants a party,” I tell him, forgoing the pleasantries. “She wants you to set it up.”

  He wrinkles his nose at me like I’m something nasty he stepped in. “Really. Any specifics?”

  I shrug. “Drinking, fancy clothes. You know what she likes, right?”

  He smirks at me, like he’s proving a point, asserting his position. “Yes, I do.”

  As if I give a shit. “Good. So do it. Make sure Duchess gets an invite. Anyone he wants to bring.”

  “Okay…” he says hesitantly, like he’s nervous. Tell the truth, I’m a little nervous myself.

  For all that I give Kingsley shit, he knows how to throw a fucking party. The grand ballroom of the Garden is decked out in red and purple velvet, with black and gold cloth on the tables and chairs. There’s a stage centered on the back wall, an eight-piece jazz combo playing something sad and sultry while a woman in white silk sings in a voice like smoke.

  There are also three bars, each fully stocked with nothing but top shelf. I post myself next to the one closest to the stairs. It’s as good a place as any to keep watch; the whiskey is just a bonus.

  Five and Seven are working the door—two of the Queen’s heavies. She gives them numbers instead of learning their names, says it keeps her from getting attached. Five and Seven don’t care; they never go by anything else anymore. Maybe they have terrible names. Maybe they just don’t remember them. They’re not exactly the sharpest knives in the drawer.

  The place is packed and people are still coming in, trickling through in ones and twos. No sign of Duchess yet, but the night is still early. Even if he’s suspicious of the invite, he’d never miss a chance to swan around the Queen’s turf like he owns the place.

  Like she’s reading my mind, the Queen sidles up next to me. “Not like Frankie to miss a party,” she says, sipping her merlot, a vision in red velvet and black lace.

  “He’ll be here,” I say, throw the rest of my drink back in one shot and order another.

  The Queen laughs. “Careful, Jack. Don’t want to get the party started too early.” She looks at me then, something assessing in her eyes. Almost suspicious. “Or do you need to get your courage up for something?”

  I lift my glass to her. “Not at all. But you can’t have an open bar with my favorite rye and expect me not to take advantage.”

  “Fair enough,” she says, clinking her glass against my own with a suggestive smirk. “To taking advantage.”

  ”I’ll drink to…” The words die somewhere in my throat when I see who’s just walked in.

  It's been long enough since I saw Alice that I've started to feel comfortable again, like maybe she's not going to make a move, like maybe everything is just fine. So when she’s suddenly right there, on the staircase, all baby blue satin and heels and those beautiful blonde curls, it catches me off guard.

  And there’s Duchess with her, her hand tucked in the crook of his arm, and he’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. I can’t blame him, given the circumstances, but it irks me all the same.

  “Who is that?” the Queen asks, reminding me that I’m here to do a job, not just look at the scenery. But when Alice crosses the room, suddenly I can’t find the words.

  “I don’t know,” I hear myself say, and it’s funny, really.

  “You don’t know? You’re an idiot. What the hell do I pay you for?” the Queen hisses at me, but Alice is close enough to hear now. She shoots a quick look at me, surprised. Duchess doesn’t notice a thing.

  “My lady,” he says, big and brash, bowing to the Queen theatrically. She rolls her eyes, but by the time he lifts his head again, she’s all cool composure.

  “Frankie, always a pleasure,” she lies, and he kisses her hand. “And who is your enchanting escort?”

  “Business associate,” Alice corrects automatically, then sees the hard edge in the Queen’s eyes. “If it please you.” I can’t help but smile behind my hand; at least she’s learned some tact.

  “This,” Duchess says, slipping an arm around her waist in a move that’s both proud and possessive, “is Alice.” She allows it for a moment, then gracefully twists away.

  “Yes, I’d heard the Rabbit took a bit of a tumble. Too bad.” The Queen couldn’t sound less interested if she tried, but Duchess takes it as an invitation to talk about it. Their voices fade into the background. Alice holds out her hand to me.

  “Hello,” she says, blue eyes sparkling with something wicked, something knowing. “I don’t believe we were properly introduced. I’m Alice.”

  I take her hand, and since we’re playing the parts, bring it to my lips, pressing a kiss against the back. “Jack Knave. Lovely to meet you, Alice.”

  Her face lights up in perfectly feigned surprise. “Why, I believe we have a friend in common, Jack. Jimmy Cheshire told me to give you his regards.”

  I tense up instantly. “Did he now?”

  “Oh yes,” Alice says. “We had a nice long talk
about you. Exciting things you do.” She reaches into her clutch, takes out a folded piece of paper. “In fact, he asked me to give you this.”

  I open it up, and it takes me a minute to decipher Cheshire’s chicken scratch.

  Listen to her, Jack. She’s smarter than you. Trust. And keep your head down, shit might be getting real.

  Fifteen percent, motherfucker.

  JC

  When I look up from the note, Alice is watching me through lowered lids, wearing a smirk like a woman with a plan. I can feel my heart speed up. I have no idea what she’s up to.

  “Be seeing you, Jack,” she says, all sweetness, and she’s gone before I can reply, melting into the crowd like Cheshire’s been giving her lessons. I read the note one more time before torching it, leaving it to burn in an ashtray on the far side of the balcony.