Danse Macabre

by Kory M. Shrum

  “Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen you waltz in here pretending to be sober with that glassy look in your eye.” She did a comic imitation of King waltzing.

  King hadn’t drank like that in months, but he couldn’t deny the accusations. Before Lucy had reappeared with a mission to save her wayward niece, King spent his evenings—hell, most of his days—patroning the French Quarter bars, despite his landlady’s strict policy on drinking.

  “Please, pretty, pretty, please.” Piper batted her lashes and begged with crossed fingers.

  A wave of affection washed over King. “Get in here.”

  He shut the balcony door behind her.

  “It’s dangerous to be drinking like that by yourself. What if someone took advantage of you?”

  “I wasn’t alone,” Piper said, shuffling into the apartment. The line she cut across the living room was far from straight. “I was with our ninja friend.”

  “Lou?” He couldn’t hide his surprise. “Where is she now?”

  “I don’t know. She helped me move some stuff then she left me at Henry’s. I slept for a while but then my alarm went off for work, and I’m still drunk. I thought I’d be better with some sleep.”

  He opened his kitchen cabinets looking for food. He settled on a box of mac and cheese. “I can’t believe you climbed up the fire escape. You could’ve broken your neck.”

  “Mel would’ve broken my neck if I’d walked through the front door. I’d rather face a fire escape than an angry Melandra the Magnificent any day.”

  King laughed. He filled a pot with water, and put it on the burner to build a boil. “You need to drink water. Here.”

  He filled her a glass from the tap and passed it over to her.

  “Go sit down. I’ll make you some food.”

  Piper obediently took her water glass to the sofa and sank into the enormous leather cushions.

  Once the pot boiled and he got the noodles going, King fetched a washcloth from the bathroom cabinet. Three passes under the cold tap before he wrung it out and offered it to the pink-cheeked girl.

  “God, you’re good at this,” she said, pressing the cloth to her face.

  Her relief and audible sigh made him smile. “I used to drink. A lot.”

  “I’m profiting from your practice then,” she said, groaning into the cloth. It fluttered with each exhalation.

  “It’s not like you to get trashed,” King said. Or to cry in the office when I offer you a place to live.

  She folded the cloth and pressed it over her forehead, still balancing the half-drunk water on one knee. He regarded her bloodshot eyes and ruddy cheeks. He was willing to bet half his pension that she’d been crying tonight, too. Hard. And for a while. It was only a mystery if the crying had started before or after the first hurricane.

  “Lou told me about Dani being an undercover journalist.”

  “And that set you off?” he asked, surprised. He thought the girls liked each other, but he would’ve never guessed it had progressed this far so quickly.

  “No. I mean, it’s upsetting. But no. I guess she’s doing her job. Not that job—” Piper pointed in the direction of Fortunes and Fixes. “Her liar job.”

  “When is she working? Here?”

  “Now.” Piper tried to get the washcloth to stay on her forehead without lying down, but she couldn’t seem to tilt her head back far enough. “I’m thinking about confronting her after I close up. We’re supposed to have dinner.”

  “Or you could try to find out what she knows,” he said, remembering the noodles. He returned to the kitchen. “Pretend you’re a double agent.”

  “I could.” She groaned, dabbing at her face and neck.

  “How’s the apartment search going?”

  “I still need one. I mean, I could keep the apartment I put a deposit on, but it seems stupid to pay for a bedroom I don’t need. Henry won’t move in with me. It’s too far from the bar.”

  She rubbed a hand under her nose and sniffed.

  “You don’t need two bedrooms now?” he asked.

  She shook her head, downing the last of the water. King refilled it for her, motioning for her to keep going.

  “No. And your apartment is nicer, but now I can’t afford it. It’s gonna take me a while to get another deposit together and—”

  “It’s yours,” King said. He took the water glass from her, afraid she was about to spill it all over his leather sofa, and put it on one of barroom coasters. This one from O’Brien’s. “I don’t need a deposit. If you punch a hole in the wall, I’ll take it out of your check.”

  “Why would you do that for me?” Her face screwed up with fresh tears. “Look at me.”

  He smiled. “I see you. And the apartment is yours. You can move in as soon as you need to.”

  She put her head on her knees and cried. King offered her a pat on the back before getting up to check on the macaroni one last time.

  The knot in his chest relaxed. He didn’t know what was going on in Piper’s life, but he was glad she’d be close. Like Melandra, it gave him peace knowing she was safe.

  With the noodles cooked, he added the cheese sauce and stirred. The bowl was steaming when he stuck a fork in it and carried it into the living room.

  “Eat up,” he said. “Hopefully this will suck up most of the alcohol.”

  She took the bowl of mac and cheese from his hands and stared into it.

  “You want bacon bits?” he asked, trying to read her puzzled expression. “Salt and pepper?”

  “Bathroom,” she said.

  He pointed through his bedroom to the right. She sat the bowl down on the coffee table and bolted in that direction. Seconds later, he heard pronounced heaving amplified by the acoustics of a toilet bowl.

  “That’ll help you along,” he said. Not with the tears and whatever she was dealing with, but at this rate, she’d sail straight from drunk into hungover.

  The toilet flushed, and Piper reappeared, wiping the side of her mouth with toilet paper.

  “You want a Dr. Pepper?” He motioned to his mouth. “For the taste?”

  “Oh god, yes.”

  King pulled a cold soda from the fridge and cracked it open. He handed it over to her. She drank half the can in one go before picking up the mac and cheese again.

  “Thanks for taking care of me,” she said, dragging a sleeve under her nose.

  He shrugged. “I’m paying my karmic debt. I can’t count how many friends have doctored me up after one too many. Once I got so drunk that I puked all over myself. My friends came to the hotel where I was at, picked me up, stripped me down, and pushed me into the shower. They even redressed me before dumping me at home.”

  “Good friends,” Piper said, throwing the Dr. Pepper back for a second time.

  They were good friends, but King knew he’d had a problem and always would. He only hoped his love and promise to Lucy was enough to keep that propensity at bay.

  “I already feel better.” Piper returned to the couch and picked up the macaroni and cheese. “God, I’m actually hungry. How is that possible?”

  Her eyes had cleared. But her cheeks were still too red.

  “Go on. Eat up,” he said. He got a Dr. Pepper for himself then settled on the sofa beside her, facing her with one arm draped over the back of the couch. She was cross-legged, shoveling oversized bites into her mouth.

  “This is really good. It’s like gourmet. You didn’t buy this at the dollar store.”

  He snorted. “You’re still drunk.”

  He drank his soda, replaying in his head the case file he’d been reading before Piper crashed onto the balcony. His mind also drifted to Lou. It was interesting that she’d taken Piper to a bar, even for a few drinks. It seemed so normal.

  Piper belched. Then laughed. “Sorry.”

  King shrugged. “You’d have to do better than that to startle me.”

  “I hear a challenge.” With the mac eaten, her speech was almost normal now. She’d gone from looking very
drunk to looking very tired. If she were lucky, Mel wouldn’t notice.

  “Do you care if I wash up in your bathroom? I need to swish some toothpaste and wash my face.”

  “Have at it.”

  She placed the empty bowl on the coffee table. When she stood up, she took a couple of uneven steps, but mostly she looked okay.

  He took her bowl to the sink, soaped a sponge and washed it. When he turned off the water, the tap still ran in the other room.

  He decided against a second soda so late in the evening. He was already having trouble dropping off these days. He didn’t need another setback. He decided instead on water. Maybe he would finish off the mac. A nice heavy meal might help him along.

  Piper returned to the living room looking fresh-faced. “I saw some eyedrops in your cabinet. I used them. Hope that’s okay.”

  “They’re probably expired.” He’d bought it for when he smoked weed, which was even longer ago than his last drunken escapade.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said. She checked her watch before sitting on the edge of the couch again.

  “Shoot.”

  “When you were a DEA agent, you probably saw a lot of drug addicts, right?”

  He settled onto the sofa, wondering if they were going to get to it at last, the heart of the issue. “Yeah. I knew some. And I’m not innocent myself.”

  He didn’t point out that half guys he knew in the DEA were addicted to something, blow or something milder. It wasn’t uncommon that evidence disappeared from the locker.

  “Right, so how often do you think addicts get clean?” she asked. “Like 80% of the time? 75%?”

  “You mean quit their drug altogether and never take it up again or get hooked on something else? I guess it depends on the drug,” he said. It did, but this was also his attempt to get more information. Fortunately, Piper didn’t seem to notice.

  “Let’s just say it’s heroin,” Piper said, shrugging her shoulders indifferently. “If someone was addicted to heroin for ten years, maybe longer, and then they wanted to get clean, what are the chances that they’d actually do it?”

  King’s heart fell. “Your mom?”

  Piper reached for her Dr. Pepper, picking at the tab with her finger. “Yeah. I think she started up when my dad died, but it could’ve been before that. Hell, maybe she’s been doing it her whole life.”

  “And she told you she wanted to get clean?” he asked.

  She plucked the tab again. And again.

  “When someone is hooked on something hard like that, they need a lot of help.”

  “I tried to get her out of that house. Maybe if—”

  “She’d need a lot more help than a move, sweetie,” he said gently. “She’d need even more than a strong resolve to quit.”

  Her shoulders sagged. She seemed fixated on the seam of her jeans, scratching it with a black nail. “I thought she just needed a change.”

  “She does. But for it to stick, she’s got to be the one to make the change. She’d have to be committed. And when she screwed up, because everyone does, she’d have to be committed enough to recommit. Get what I’m saying?”

  Piper threw back the rest of the soda and put the empty can on the coffee table.

  “Hey,” King said, seeing the tears pool in the corner of her eyes. “Hey, look at me.”

  Piper met his gaze, her lip trembling.

  “Her illness doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  She nodded, but King wasn’t going to give up this easy. He wanted her to hear him, really hear what he had to say.

  “But it was dumb, right?” she asked. “I was stupid for thinking I could shake her out of it.” She ran her hands down her face.

  “People get addicted for all kinds of reasons. You didn’t drive your mother to addiction, and her inability to get out of it isn’t on you either.”

  “But if I can get her enough help—”

  “She has to help herself,” he interjected. “This is her battle, not yours.”

  “It’s hard not to feel like…” She bit her lip, meeting King’s eyes with her watery gaze. The profound, wounded sorrow there hurt King. “I’m failing her. Or I’m not strong enough to pull her out of it.”

  “Don’t take that on,” King said. “This isn’t about you.”

  She nodded her head, forcing herself to smile at him. But King worried she wasn’t actually hearing the words. The voice inside her own head was likely four times louder than his.

  “Come here,” he said. He stood, opened his arms and a laughing Piper fell into them.

  Laughter, he realized, was her default. It was how she dealt with the world. It was how she beat back the waters drowning her.

  “You’re enough to change for. She isn’t ready to change,” he said again, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll tell you every time I see you from here until hell freezes over if I have to. Addiction is about the addicts.”

  “That guilt though, man,” she said, pulling back. More laughter.

  “I know,” he said. “But you’re going to get through this.”

  She nodded, but her face was crumpling again.

  A sharp knock on the door silenced them both.

  “Come in,” King called, already knowing who those tinkling bangles belonged to. Piper squeezed him harder.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’ve been crying.”

  Mel entered. “Well, I’ve got one no-show and the other is late!”

  Then her eyes fell on Piper.

  “Oh,” she said, coming to stand before them. The three of them formed a triangle in King’s large living room. “What’s going on here?”

  “Piper’s having a rough night,” he said.

  “I see that,” Melandra looked her up and down.

  “I was going to come down in a minute,” Piper said, sheepishly. “I was trying to clean up my face.”

  “Okay,” Mel said. “Is this about your mom?”

  Piper’s lip trembled. “God, did everyone know?”

  “Know what?” Mel asked.

  “It’s fine. I just need a minute. I don’t want to freak out the customers.” She laughed.

  “No, it’s all right,” Melandra said, giving Piper’s ponytail an affectionate tug. “I’ll close up tonight.”

  “No, I—”

  Mel waved her away. “It’s fine. I don’t have any readings. But this doesn’t tell me why the other one is a no-show. Dani never came for her shift.”

  “She’s an undercover reporter,” Piper said, looking more than relieved to have the attention directed from her to Dani.

  Mel snorted. “Of course she is. Who was she reporting on?” She gave King an appraising look, eyebrow arching. “You?”

  “Lou,” he said.

  Mel’s eyebrows shot up. “You can explain that to me later.”

  “I’ll make it up to you, Mel,” Piper said, her voice thick.

  “No need.” Mel ran a thumb over her cheek, clearing a tear.

  The shop moaned, the ghostly howl reverberating up to them from below.

  “I better get out there,” Mel said. “These candles ain’t gonna sell themselves.”

  She sashayed out of the apartment and closed the door behind her.

  “See,” King said. “She had no—”

  The door to the apartment swung open again. Mel rushed inside, slamming the door shut behind her. King reached for his .357 without thinking.

  “They’re not customers,” Mel said, chest heaving and wide-eyed. “I think they’re here for us.”

  26

  Konstantine awoke naked, on his back, his uncovered chest cold. One of his wrists was still bound to the bed. He took the blade from underneath his pillow and cut the strap, freeing his second wrist. He turned on his side to find Lou stretched long beside him. She’d given him her back.

  He traced the dip of her waist and flare of her hip with his eyes. He longed to reach out and touch her skin but didn’t want to wake her. />
  In his mind, he replayed the moment of his climax, when she latched onto him and wouldn’t let go. The gentle scrape of her teeth had sent him careening out of his mind.

  He’d pulled so hard that he snapped one wooden post on his bed, ripping the leather strap free. When she’d commanded that he put his hand behind his head and keep it there, he’d obeyed, but he would be lying if he said it hadn’t taken every ounce of his considerable self-control not to wrap his fingers in her hair.

  He rolled toward her, wishing to wrap a hand around her hip bone before the magic of their moment ended. A moment Konstantine understood may never come again. She had never revisited her lovers before. His snooping had told him as much. There was also the possibility that perhaps now she’d had a taste of him, she didn’t want more.

  After all, she had not let him touch her. She’d remained fully clothed yet had stripped him bare. He’d submitted entirely to her will and yet she’d given him…nothing.

  Pleasure. Absolutely.

  More pleasure than he’d ever received from so beautiful a mouth. But it had simply been a release, on her terms. She hadn’t offered herself in anyway. She’d given him no chance to perform. This saddened and worried him with its implications.

  His phone buzzed. He slipped from the bed, pulled on silk pajama pants and retrieved the cell phone from the bedside table.

  Si sta muovendo. He is on the move.

  He needed to make a phone call. But first…

  Unable to contain himself any longer, he slid into the bed and placed one hand on the cool plane of her back. He traced a shoulder blade, her spine, his fingers sliding over her hips.

  She turned toward him.

  Except she wasn’t aroused. The hungry, predatorial gaze she’d fixed on him earlier was replaced now with a cold regard. His hand froze.

  Her gaze slid away, and he realized she was listening to something.

  Then he heard it, too. The shuffle of footfall. The creak of a wooden step at the base of the stairs.

  Lou reached down and pulled the covers over their bodies. With one arm, she pulled him against her. Her thigh slid between his own as her arms went around him. Her breath was hot on his ear and neck.

  Then the world shifted.