Michael, Antoinette, and Me

 

 

 

 

Part 26

 

Sophia Paige had the same curly brown hair and bright eyes as her daughter, mid-thirties, smart conservative cream wool skirt to her knee, white satin button-down long sleeve shirt, black pumps. “Hope you don’t mind. We have been looking for summer opportunities for Rachel.”

“Shawn Beedle,” Shawn said, rising from the chair behind the desk, extending a hand. “I run 1 Bread.”

“Shawn,” Paige repeated, watching Shawn’s eyes.

“We’re not much to look at. Haven’t officially launched.”

“Rachel said. You’re going to feed hungry kids?”

I’d stepped back, wallpapering, still getting a glance. I looked to the floor, swallowing my trite children not kids comment.

“Family dinners delivered to the door. Families that are struggling financially.”

“Just how do you identify such families?”

“We’re in the process. For now, we’re focusing on this immediate neighborhood.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You have no concern for hungry kids in say, my neighborhood?”

“It’s not that –”

Leaning against the wall, I cut Shawn off. “No more, no less than Trinity.”

“Trinity?”

I offered a chin bob. “Church twelve blocks up the street, on the left.”

“Toni, if you would give the bathroom the end of the day cleaning, I’d appreciate it.”

I pushed off the wall. “Aye, on my way.”

“We don’t have a five-year plan. This launch is a pilot program. Start small. Make adjustments. Our goal is to get food on the table of children whose families lack resources.”

“What will Rachel be doing?”

“Answering the phone, answering questions. Sweeping up. Cleaning the bathroom.”

“Pamala Edwards is a volunteer?”

“Pamala Edwards would be sitting in this chair if she had the time.”

When the door closed, I came over Shawn’s shoulder.

“You heard?”

I shrugged. “I guess I understand her concern.”

She shuffled papers. “You really don’t need to be defensive. She was just fact-finding. I should bill Thomas for the time to do all these estimates.”

“You did good to kick me out of the room. Her condescending tone set my teeth on edge.”

“I could tell by the condescension in your voice.”

“Putting you in charge is the right decision.” My index finger dropped to an estimate. “Replace the flooring under the sink and all the discharge plumbing? I hope you picked up some actual skills on your summer job.”

“Toby, Toby, Toby.”

“What, what, what?”

“There’s a guy who works with my dad, always looking for side jobs. It’s called subcontracting.”

“I’m going back to the bathroom.”

“After our meeting at the bank in the morning, I’ll drop by, see Mr. Thomas, run over all these estimates, get commitments.”

“There may be some wrangling.”

“I think we can count on some serious wrangling, which is why I’ll be dropping by to see him without you. I don’t mind wrangling. You, on the other hand, will just walk away from the money.”

“We don’t need the money.”

“If I have my way, 1 Bread is going to take off. If you don’t want Tony’s Lawncare money, we can pour it in 1 Bread.

“Tony’s Lawn Service.”

“OK. Hope you don’t mind. I’m almost done my final paper for the semester.”

“Why would I mind?”

“One, I’ll be typing on your table –”

“Two, sure I’ll proof it. After the bank in the morning. I won’t be home tonight. I’m kidnapping Pamala.”

“The stuff dreams are made of.”

Shawn drew a sharp breath with the appearance of a black Rambler at the curb.

I dropped to a knee, retrieving my rebar from my boot.

Shawn worked from the chair. “I’ll just stand back here, against the wall. This is a new shirt.”

“Cold water soak, else the blood sets in.”

“I’m not surprised you know that.”

“Oh my gosh!” Donna Weber greeted coming through the door shadowed by two boys. “This place is great!”

“Donna,” Shawn returned with less enthusiasm, but enthusiasm just the same.

I head-bobbed, eying the other two.

“Oh, this is Mark, my boyfriend, Jerry, his best friend.”

Greetings were exchanged, the hand-shake-fest avoided.

“Dad, huh?”

“I don’t know what he’s said.” Shawn stepped to the desk, glancing me.

My nod was subtle.

“He said a lot of things. You guys had a disagreement. He lost his temper. Said stuff he didn’t mean.”

“People often say stuff they don’t mean when they lose their tempers. Right, Toby?”

“Toby?” Mark asked. “My sister’s nickname was Toby.” He narrowed his eyes. “You kind of look like her.”

“Mark,” Donna scolded.

“What?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not everything is about your sister.”

“She’s dead, you know,” Mark said to me, then looked at Shawn, reciting my entire name. “I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

Shawn and I looked at each other, shrugging, shaking our heads back to Mark.

“Really? The story was in all the papers. She had this secret life.”

“Mark,” Donna said again, arms across her chest, tapping her right foot.

“Fascinating.” My sarcasm, of course, was lost.

“Right? Here I am protecting her from bullies, turns out she’s a gangster.”

“A gangster?” Shawn repeated, again the sarcasm dying a lonely death.

“We were dating,” Jerry said. “For a little while. I didn’t even know. Imagine that.”

“Yeah, imagine that. Mark, sorry for your loss.”

“Eh, uh, thanks.”

“Speaking of the dead. Indians.”

Donna nodded fast and hard. “Yeah, that’s why we stopped. You said you needed help.”

“Donna was telling us about 1 Bread,” Jerry said. “I can help deliver. I have my own car.”

“Maybe I should just go wait in the car?” Donna suggested.

“Sorry,” Jerry said.

“Anyway, Shawn, Dad’s beside himself. He’d like you to stop by. He wants to apologize. Give you your job back.”

“Does that mean I’m not banned from the Nook any longer?”

“Banned?”

“Yeah, we got kicked out Monday morning.”

“Dad can hold a grudge. He gets over things. What do you say?”

“I do like their eggs,” I said.

“After what he said, I think I’ll hang onto my grudge for the rest of the week.”

“He’ll be glad to have you back. You’ve always made mornings easy for him.”

“Oh, I’ll make nice. We can be pals and all. I won’t, however, be returning.”

“That makes me sad. Indians?”

“The Henderson House, property on the river,” I said.

“Oh, that’s haunted,” Mark said, Jerry nodded.

“You’re kidding me?”

“No, really,” Mark insisted.

“No, really,” I mocked. “Tell me, Mark. Just how old was your famous sister when she died?”

“Huh?”

“The question is not difficult.”

“Fifteen?”

“Fifteen years old.” I nodded dismissively. “Fifteen years old, a big-time gangster.”

“Eh, what’s your point?”

“My point is, Mark, it seems you’ll believe just about anything.”

He took an aggressive step forward. “I didn’t say I believe it’s haunted. People say it’s haunted.”

“People say the Indians burned the house down,” Jerry added. “Killed the family.”

“For the love of –”

“Toby,” Shawn said. “Maybe you should go wait in the car.”

Donna giggled, Mark leaned toward her, she winched.

I growled.

Shawn sat, shuffled papers, flipped a calendar open. “Week from Saturday. 8 AM. At the property. Dress for hard work.”

“Oh, I’ll be there!”

Shawn centered her yellow pad. “Donna Weber,” she said as she wrote, looking up at Jerry.

“Jerry Emerson,” he said. “Dead Indians don’t scare me. In the daytime.”

“I have plans that day,” Mark said.

“Mark!”

“What’s in it for me, Donna?”

“A fun day with me?”

“What else you got?”

 

I stood at the door, hands behind my back, rocking, Shawn at the desk finalizing the stack of estimates, four minutes and change passing in an eternity.

“Of your five rapists, that was two of them?”

“Four.”

“I was counting Locke.”

“Then, yes.”

“There’s a family resemblance. How could he not know you?”

I turned. “The best I figure is he never really looked at me. Couple that with I’m dead. He looks at me, his mind can’t process I’m his sister.”

“There was a moment there. Would you have killed them both, right there?”

“When he made Donna wince, the thought did cross my mind. If not for having to clean up this room. It’s not that we don’t have the cleaning supplies, the shit bathroom and all.”

“Bury two bodies.”

“Three. That’s what tipped the scales.”

“What Donna said about anger.”

“Best not to say things when you’re angry.”

“Or kill people.”

“Over prepare. Calculate.”

 

“It’s been a long day,” Pamala said, her red Chevy II climbing up on the bridge to Philadelphia.

“Any day without you is a long day.”

She glanced me. “You’re weird. Not the comment.”

“My elfin makeup doesn’t go well with my pink hooded sweatshirt and jeans?”

“Now that you mention it.”

“You don’t like my makeup like this?”

“I love your makeup like this.”

“Me, too.”

“You’re weird.”

With just a few twists and turns, I managed to get us into a parking lot. “Grimes, 2204,” I said across her.

“Oh, Miss Grimes. Hello.”

I didn’t recognize the young man dressed in the sharp dark blue uniform. I assumed my tipping reputation got around like flu in a 1^st grade classroom.

He opened Shawn’s door, hurrying around to mine.

I thanked him with a smile and a twenty.

“What’s a Grimes?” Pamala asked as we crossed the lobby, Pamala excited with the spectacle. “Wow, what a place.”

“I’m surprised they let the likes of us in.” I nodded to Mr. Hudson.

“Miss Grimes.”

“Messages?”

“Matter of fact.” He passed three notes and a key. Is there anything else?”

“Something from the kitchen.”

“I’ll have a menu sent up.”

“Cheeseburgers?” I nodded at Pamala.

“Eh, absolutely.”

“Two cheeseburgers. Fries.”

“A bowl of brown gravy.”

I nodded. “I know that’s rather pedestrian.”

“You won’t think that once you taste our cheeseburger, Miss Grimes.” Hudson picked up the telephone receiver. “I’ll call it in right now.”

 

“Toby?” Pamala asked as I pushed the button for the elevator.

“Pamala.”

“What’s going on? What’s a Grimes?”

“I am. Artemis Grimes.”

“Apparently. That doesn’t answer –”

We stepped into the elevator.

“You don’t do elevators.”

“Not without fast breathing and sweat beading on my forehead. Artemis does, though.”

“Huh?”

Pamala watched the floor numbers flash over the door, I watched Pamala.

“I don’t understand it. The short story is my detective and I have a caper coming up.”

“Serling.”

“That’s the guy.”

“Caper? I don’t follow.”

“Caper, as in a scheme.”

“I know what a caper is. Cliff notes is good.”

“I have to infiltrate a seedy afterhours private club, gather information on a seedy guy.”

“Which Toby can’t do.”

“Aye. Enter Artemis Grimes.”

“You’re from out of town.”

“Steubenville.”

“Of course. You need a local address. Why not the Commodore.”

“Why not the Commodore.”

“I know this is dangerous. Tell me it’s not dangerous anyway.”

“The risk is minimal.”

“Because you plan.”

“Painstakingly.”

The elevator door opened with a whoosh.

Down the hall, around the corner, I let us in the room, Pamala breathless for a moment, then rushing to the balcony, sliding the door open. She didn’t jump up and down, clapping her hands. She did giggle.

I came behind her, hands on her waist, my face in her hair. “I don’t know how everything got so fucked up.”

She nestled against me. “I think I can see my house from here.”

“Curvature of the earth. I’ve stood on this balcony, imagining this moment.”

She sighed deeply. “What’s messed up?”

“I don’t know. I had a really simple plan. Get a place. Check. Get a fake lazy boy, books, you, reading until you’re asleep. Repeat every day.”

“Yeah, I know, huh?”

“I regret having Michael crash with me, him omnipresent like the Christian God.”

“Firstly. Michelle, not Michael. She’s come a long way in the past couple of months.”

“You’ve not seen her dick.”

“Thank God for small favors.”

“Given the length and breadth of things, not so small.”

“Artemis!”

“There it is, Pamala.”

“There what is?”

“You so easily adapt to roles.”

“I like the name. Artemis Grimes. She’s a goddess. A virgin goddess, yet the goddess of childbirth, of the hunt, yet the protector of woodland critters. Contradictions. So much like you anyway.”

“Goddess. You mean not human.”

Tapping on the door drew us inside. “Oh, Toby, you’re so saved by the bell.”

“It was a knock.” I opened the door. “Gary.”

“So good to see you, Miss Grimes.” He nodded to Pamala, pushing the cart. “Shall I set you up?”

“Please do.”

As he arraigned the table, Pamala leaned to me. “Oh, so un-Toby like.”

“I hadn’t realized.”

Gary presented himself. “Is there anything else for the moment?”

I placed a twenty in his hand. “We’re good.”

“Call when you’re done. I’ll take the table down.”

“I think we can manage, Gary,” Pamala said. “We’ll leave the cart in the hall.”

I thought he should click his heels. “Very good, eh?”

“Pamala.”

“Pamala,” he repeated with a nod, backing away, turning, the doorway consuming him.

“He is very good at what he does,” Pamala said.

“Everyone in the building. I wonder if that’s hiring or training.”

“Maybe the tipping.”

“Anyway.”

We sat next to each other at the small table, rearranging the plates.

“Thanks.”

“For what, specifically?” I asked.

“Tonight, this. I’ve missed all that time we used to have together.”

“Alone.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’d never complain. That does get annoying.”

“It’d be easier to not mind him, eh her, if she didn’t say Don’t mind me on the way to the refrigerator.”

“Right? Or I’m almost asleep listening to you read, and she comes up on us thinking we want to hear whatever story she just must tell. There was that one night, I almost had you off –”

“I have plans.”

“Good plans, I hope.”

“I have some bids in on houses.”

“Houses? Like more than one?”

“They say real estate is a good investment.”

“Mom has said that. Dad doesn’t want to be a landlord. Of course, they could hire a property manager. That could cut into the good investment thing.”

I rolled my eyes.

“What?”

“It would seem Shawn’s turning my lawn mowing business into property management. The only reason I opened the business was to launder money. I figured six lawns a week, tops. Make deposits every Friday. Spend all my spare time reading on the lazy boy or reading to you on the lazy boy.”

“Shawn. I like her more than I should.”

“I’ve brought her in.”

“You’ve said. I admit. I’m more than a little jealous.”

“I’d rather it be you.”

“Is that possible?”

“No, for many reasons. You have an obligation to Jessica when the restaurant opens.”

“Jessica.” Her ears went pink. “I’ve thought about her. In a bed. Both us naked.”

“Maybe dinner. Flowers.”

“Yeah, right. With Jessica, it’s always going to be hit and run in the utility closet.”

“Will you be disappointed if that never happens?”

“Why do you ask? What did Jessica say?”

“We’ve never talked about you.”

“That could hurt a girl’s feelings.”

“Well –”

“I’m kidding, Artemis. Jessica and I have had conversations. I know she uses random sexual encounters to feel good about herself, to feel at least the illusion of being in control of her own destiny.”

“She doesn’t like to complicate the workplace.”

“She said. I really don’t mind her being my once in a while dildo, as long as you don’t mind.”

“She certainly can’t wear you out, and I’m not going to do you in a utility closet.”

“How’d we get here?” Pamala waved her hand like shooing flies. “This has got to be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Besides you.”

“I’ve tasted me. The burger’s better.”

“No offense. Jessica is offering me a better opportunity than you can, too.”

“No offense taken. I happen to agree with you.”

“Not that I wouldn’t make a great gangster moll.”

I rolled my eyes again. “Which brings us to reason number one.”

“Don’t deny it. I see where things are heading, maybe better than you do. You have that bat guy paying protection.”

“I like to think he’s paying restitution.”

“You say banana, I say protection.”

“That is the point, Pam. I doubt I’m betraying any confidence when I say I promised your mother I would keep you far away from anything illegal and out of harm’s way.”

“I know you’ve had conversations. I don’t have to know details. I trust that the three of you have my best interests in mind. I trust you. I’m doing my best to be as willfully ignorant as possible. I’ll clean up. You wash your face. Give me Toby back.”

 

“This bathtub.” Pamala swooned, dropping into the water.

“Room for three, I think. When I find a house, we’re getting a tub just like this.”

“The house. What’s the plan. One night, just move out of the apartment?”

“Yes.”

“You even going to tell Michelle?”

“Of course. I’ll be giving her the apartment. The rent’s paid up until the end of next February. Michelle should be delighted she has the place all to herself.”

“She’s a good worker.”

“Eager to please.”

“Exactly.”

“I didn’t mean that as a good thing.”

“I don’t follow.”

“It’s a merry-go-round. She doesn’t like being Michael. Why? Because, she thinks, nobody likes Michael. Michelle gets the affirmation she thinks she wants.”

“Attention.”

“Positive attention.”

“So, you’re saying she doesn’t like Michael because she thinks nobody likes Michael. The merry-go-round spins, she likes Michelle because everyone likes Michelle.”

“Eager to please because people like her when she’s eager to please. Michelle is no more real than my Antoinette but then, I’m not sure how real Michael is. When I stand naked in the woods, my face to the rain, I know exactly who I am.”

“The merry-go-round turns and we’re back to persona. I snuggle with you on the fake lazy boy, lost in the story you’re reading, or I fake being nice to a mean customer. They’re both exactly who I am.”

“You’ve never had to hide your authentic self.”

“If I’ve learned nothing else in past six months, it’s what a luxury that is. I’ve said, Toby, I’ve seen her, there in the woods, naked, the rain on her face. That child who’s terrified of elevators, crowds of people. Quiet mornings just before dawn, your gentle breathing next to me. Her, the curtain pulled back, watching out the darkened window perhaps to catch a glimpse of another wraith on the lawn.”

“You think I’m a wraith?”

“I do.”

“I’ve entertained the idea. You said I was a goddess, yet another affirmation I’m not human.”

Pamala smirked. “I didn’t say you weren’t human. I said you’re a wraith. A visitor here not unlike Antoinette Blanc.”

“How the fuck can you know that?”

“Know what, specifically?”

“That I feel I don’t belong here.”

“I didn’t say you don’t belong here. I said you’re a visitor like you were a visitor to my house on Christmas. Though a visitor, you still belonged there. I have photographs to prove it.”

“I don’t know what am, but I know that I am.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to say. On this merry-go-round. Wash your hair?”

“I’m good, Pam. I’m really good. I’d be glad to wash yours.”

Her ears pinked. “I so get that. To fall asleep beside you tonight is more than enough. You, me, no distractions. I love Jessica, real and true, but our love is all about those moments on the utility room floor.”

“Shawn.”

“Oh, Shawn, yes. Did she mention Saturday night to you?”

“She did not.”

“We kind of plan a date.”

“That works out. I’ll be capering Saturday night.”

“Shawn knows a place. A club. Mostly older people.”

“Where you can dance.”

“Exactly correct. Shawn said the three of us could go. Saturday.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Right? You’d go, if I ask. You wouldn’t want to, but you would.”

“I’m so not a people person.”

“I saw, at the parties, in the mall.”

“One was a party, the other a dinner.”

Pamala took a turn rolling her eyes. “I watch you in crowds of strangers, even at Harvest, even in the mall. You’re a great soldier.”

“I’ve watched you, too. Which is why the job with Jessica is perfect for you, not me.”

“You’ve said. We’re going dancing.”

“There’s going to be that crazy Charleston.”

“Shawn says there’s going to be a lot of crazy swing stuff. You really should come, hide in a dark corner, watch.”

“I feel a panic attack coming on just thinking about it.”

“You have plans, though. Like I have plans already for when you ask me to go camping with you.”

“Yes. I can say I’d be excited to go, but I have the caper.”

“I feel it’s great we don’t have to make excuses.”

“I would never block you from doing something you really wish to do. I’d never ask you to do something you really don’t wish to do.”

She blushed, looking away.

“What?”

“We kind of have plans for afterwards.”

I smirked. “The butt stuff.”

“Are you sure, absolutely sure you don’t mind?”

“As I said, I would never block –”

“Well, it is your bed.”

“It’s our bed. My bed, wherever it is, will always be our bed.”

She bit her lip.

“What now?”

“I think maybe I’m more enthusiastic about, eh –”

“Sex.”

She blushed. “Yeah, that. Than you are.”

I shrugged. “Probably.”

“I mean, well, Jessica dropped me to the utility room floor, makes a passing comment, I go home and shave like we’re going to be banging every day. Finally grown in enough where it’s not all itchy all the time.”

“It wasn’t that you went right home –”

“Figure of speech, Toby.”

“Figure away, Pam.”

“I mean, I think, Jessica still had her finger in me –”

“Her tongue down your throat.”

She rolled her eyes again. “That, too, and I was already thinking about when we’d do it again.”

“Jessica is a great fuck. I’m not seeing your point here.”

“The other day, at your – I mean our kitchen table.”

“More like a dining room table, maybe both kitchen and dining room. I miss the house.”

“Stop that.”

“What?”

“Correcting stuff that doesn’t matter. You know which table I’m talking about.”

“Fuck. I bet that’s annoying as fuck.”

“You win that bet. Where was I?”

“I was banging you on the dining room table like at Bill’s house if not for Michael rummaging in the refrigerator.”

“You never did that at Bill’s house.”

“The table’s hardwood. I didn’t want you to bruise your butt.”

“I have ample padding.”

“Noted. OK. The other day at the table.”

“Right. Shawn mentions she has a toy for that, I’m spreading my legs, telling her to put it in me.”

“I do enjoy your enthusiasm.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, so not sarcasm. I really do enjoy watching you and Shawn dance. There is absolutely nothing about you loving Jessica and you loving Shawn that takes anything away from how you and I love each other.”

She bit her lip.

“Pamala.”

“Toby?”

“Don’t get trapped by thinking how you think things should be.”

“Forsaking all others.”

“I know, Pamala, I can be a lot of things to you. I also know I cannot be all things to you.” I winked. “I’m not going to shove a cucumber up your butt.”

“It’s more like slide, not shove.”

“Yeah, that can get annoying.”

 

Shawn greeted me in 1 Bread with a hug and, “We need to talk.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“Eh, huh? No.”

“Then it can wait. I like your outfit.”

“You didn’t say how I should dress.”

Shawn wore a beige wool jacket, straight skirt to her knee, white button down, black three-inch pumps.

“Perfect. Very professional.”

“Yet, you in jeans and a sweatshirt. Smelling more like Pamala than you.”

“That’s why I didn’t bother changing.”

Red suede bag over my shoulder, file folder under my arm, we walked the six blocks.

On the sidewalk in front of Union Bank, Butch Falcon, perfection in a black suit, red tie, gave me a friendly nod, taking Shawn’s hand. “So nice to see you again.”

Shawn blushed. “You, too.”

“Jennifer Reeves,” he told her, indicating my representative from the law office, Reeves dressed similarly to Shawn, but in blue.

“Butch, why the big guns?”

“Eh, you wish to do some serious leveraging here.”

I shrugged, keeping Reeves’ blue eyes. “Not that it’s not always great to see you.”

“I have the contract for the Harriet Stiles property, too.”

“That can wait. Shawn’s going to be doing all my day-to-day. Shawn Beedle, Jennifer Reeves,” I introduced again.

Reeves took her hand, narrowed eyes. “Business manager?”

“Number one is the term I use. Things are getting complicated.”

“Mr. Stenholm read me in completely. Things have been complicated for a while.”

“Good.”

“Congratulation, maybe, on the position,” Falcon said. “I already told Toby you’re the correct choice.”

“You talked about me?”

“Well, I am Jessica’s, eh, number one. I came onboard to oversee the day-to-day of the restaurant construction and opening. By extension, any concerns of Jessica.”

Reeves passed a sheet of paper.

“All of a sudden.” Shawn put a hand flat to her chest. “I can’t seem to breath.”

“I warned you the job’s big,” I said, then to Reeves, “This is perfect. Just perfect.”

“Basically, spells out all the legal responsibilities of a marriage.”

“Not just pretty words. Serious, adult responsibilities.”

“You can still do pretty words, like vows.”

I skimmed the two pages. “Nothing about sexual fidelity.”

“Not in the statutes.”

“Yet, everyone makes a big deal about that. All the wedding vows –”

“Are not legally binding. Traditions, moral values. The list goes on.”

“Please don’t. Shawn.”

“Toby?”

“You OK?”

“Yes.”

“You in?”

“I’m so in. Stop asking me that. I just realized you pulled out a chair for me at the adult table. I’m sitting down.”

“Shall we, then?” Falcon pulled the glass door open.

“We shall.”

Jacob Bancroft, projecting displeasure, likely pacing watching us outside, met us in the lobby, giving Falcon a sharp nod. “This way.”

We followed into a conference room, large, windowless, spartan, beautiful oak table projecting my reflection. I entertained the passing thought of Pamala amble padding on the wood.

Bancroft rounded the table, dropping to a chair with Gus Avery on his left, who I assumed was Alexander Forde on his right. Forde’s dark eyes surveyed us, settling on Falcon.

I smirked at the error.

Comfortable in the room and with the ceremony, Falcon and Reeves took chairs, Shawn following their lead as I hoovered behind, examining the five and dime store art on the wall with the same disinterest I showed Doctor Phil Kerney’s art.

Reeves centered her briefcase in front of her, clicking the latches, opening the top. “I have all the paperwork drawn up.”

Forde sat forward. “You’re a lawyer?” he asked with all the dismissiveness he could squeeze into the words.

“Jennifer Reeves. I’m with Stenholm, Koel, and Viceroy.”

He smirked. “Never heard of them.”

She offered the gentle yet dismissive shrug that melts me. “And you are?”

“Alexander Forde,” I said turning from a painting. “No law firm affiliation. Ambulance chaser. Mostly shake and bake, slip and fall.” I held his eyes. “I suspect some shady deals like with Jane Wilkins, which you keep you name off.”

“Eh, young lady –”

“Shake and bake,” Reeves repeated, trying not to giggle.

I narrowed my eyes at Forde. “Shall we get onto business? Trust me, Forde. Miss Reeves is very good at what she does, as you will soon see.”

Bancroft cleared his throat dismissing me, Reeves, and Shawn. “That quarter on a dollar, Mr. Falcon, is unacceptable.”

Falcon glanced me, turning to the three men across the table. “I have been instructed to tell you that you should have taken the quarter.”

“The quarter was a serious offer,” I said absently, not turning from the painting of a sailboat tacking on a gentle sea.

Reeves pulled a report from her briefcase. “If you close the company, sell off the assists, best case, you’d recover maybe twelve cents on a dollar of the debt.” She offered the report, getting waved off.

“Auction fees, processing would gobble up those two cents,” I said, again absently as if thinking aloud.

“Fifty cents,” Bancroft huffed. “Not a penny less.”

I stepped between Falcon and Reeves, opening my folder, displaying a copy. “Theodore Avery’s sworn affidavit. Fifty bucks? Really?”

“I would think a buck-fifty, maybe two hundred,” Shawn repeated.

“What that kid says –”

“How about I read aloud Bucko Pete’s affidavit? What a character.”

“Rolled over like a kitten wanting belly rubs,” Shawn interjected.

“What’s she talking about, Gus?” Forde asked

“Eh, nothing. It’s all worked out with Meyers.”

“I’ll just keep these to myself. Dime on a dollar. Miss Reeves has the paperwork. We all sign, enjoy the rest of the day.”

Falcon placed bundled bills on the table.

“Hold up, now,” Bancroft said.

Leaning in, I placed an 8 x 10 glossy on the table. “Oh, wait. This has your good side.” I added a photo.

Bancroft went white.

“Just sign where it’s marked,” Reeves said.

 

“Firstly,” Falcon said as we huddled on the sidewalk near the bank, “Wow, Toby.”

“Don’t drop to a knee, Butch.”

“I second the wow. Let me add that I do not appreciate being blindsided in the room like that,” Reeves scolded.

“I kept you and Butch out of the loop for a good reason. Plausible deniability.”

“They’ll be thinking it’s all you,” Falcon said. “Why’s that important?”

“They are dangerous people. Rather, Forde is. Bancroft and Avery are window dressing, even if Avery tried to have me killed. The details are comical. This taxi gig was just a side hustle for Forde. They’ve already milked the cow, have their money. All they had to do was take the quarter on a dollar as a bonus, but no. They had to get greedier.”

“His bread and butter in the shake and bake?” Reeves asked.

“No.” I hesitated. “He’s a mob lawyer. I also just learned our local Chief Meyers is mobbed up, thus not an ally.”

Shawn’s mouth hung open. “That’s why you needed a spectacle.”

“Sure. Stir things up, shake things out. Ted did say Uncle Gus cleared everything – that is to say my attempted murder – with Chief Meyers.”

“I’d like to see those affidavits.” Reeves held her hand toward me.

“I don’t have any affidavits, Miss Reeves. I just have simple statements. I’ve read a law book or two. Nothing rising to the level of affidavit.”

“You were bluffing.”

“Which is why I kept you in the dark. You couldn’t be held responsible for anything I said in the room.”

“Toby. You’ve made me your lawyer. Don’t keep me in the dark. I’ll proudly be responsible for anything you do in the room.”

“Noted.”

“Butch?” she asked.

“You go ahead. I’ll grab the train back. I want to see a realtor about some houses.”

“When Bancroft gets his heart from his throat, I want to talk to him about a property on Newton. Same deal as the Taxi company. Over leveraged.”

“I can do that,” Falcon said.

“This is personal. I think I’m going to bulldoze the house.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It bothers me, and I like working the front loader.”

“Rich Katz asked me something about that.”

“Seeing if I were serious.”

“I think he may have used the work crazy.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That you’re certifiable, which is why we let you do pretty much anything you wish.”

“Butch?” Shawn asked.

“Shawn?”

“Tom Thomas?”

“That’s the man I need to see.”

“May I accompany you? Also, business.”

He offered his arm. “Jennifer, Toby.”

“Mr. Falcon. Miss Reeves.”

 

“Fuck, Toby, Fuck,” Shawn said as she let herself in my apartment.

I looked up from her essay on the table, rolling my eyes.

“I mean I want to fuck.”

I shrugged, dropping pen to paper. “Bedrooms yours.”

“I mean I want to push you to the floor and fuck you.”

“Like I did you at Expressions.”

“Well, I didn’t get to the floor.”

“Wielding absolute power over small men is like that. At least it was for me, which is why we landed in the dressing room like that. I was better prepared today.”

“I feel flushed.”

“Your face is a bit red.”

“I can’t toss you on the floor?”

“I have this essay to finish proofing.”

“How about on the kitchen table?”

I rolled my eyes. “I lack the padding.”

“I’m kidding anyway.”

“I know your fishing.”

“My face just got redder, didn’t it?”

“Yes.” I paged through the essay. “This is pretty good.”

“I’m learning.” She sat, watching me. “There was a moment, in the bank.”

“OK.”

“I was watching Jennifer. Is she gay?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Beautiful, you know.”

“I did pick up on that.”

“Her confidence. I don’t know if I want to fuck her or be her.”

“Sometimes I feel that way about Butch, too.”

“Yeah, Butch. He’s another one. Jessica. Pamala.”

“Not so bad.” I set the essay aside. “What are you trying to say?”

“There, in front of the bank, I realized you surround yourself with special, outstanding people. You’ve asked me to be one of those people.”

“I have.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now I’m going to get you so mad at me, you’re going to fire me.”

“Oh, back to the we need to talk.”

“As you know, I’m not opposed to dick like you are.”

“I am not aware of your dick preference, other than you don’t like to be fuck-humiliated. As for me. I’m not opposed to dick. I’m opposed to anything being inserted inside me, doubly so if it’s done against my will.”

“You’ve said you don’t like Michelle because she has a dick.”

“I don’t much care for men. Look how that snot Forde dismissed Jennifer as a lawyer. Men don’t have to be assholes. They just are.”

“Butch Falcon.”

“A great example of how men don’t have to be assholes. Butch has no problem serving Jessica.”

“And, you. He serves you.”

“I thought he might take a knee. Butch works for Jessica, Jessica works for me or will once we open the restaurant, therefore Butch works for me. We just don’t say that out loud.”

“You can be scary in the room. I bet Bancroft pissed his pants. I wanted to kick him in the balls just for sticking his dick in Lauren.”

“Anyway. I saw those glances you and Lauren gave each other when we were in the bank.”

“Yeah, huh. That was kind of weird. You tell me to watch my expectation, here she’s eye fucking me.”

“If he beats her, we’ll kill him.”

Shawn nodded hard. “You know Michael has a date.”

“Michelle? Pamala and I went round and round on this last night.”

“What?”

“Calling Michelle Michael.”

“Michael, not Michelle, has a date with Lenette.”

“That’s still on? Gay or not, boy or girl, whatever Michael decides she or he is in the moment, I would have dumped Lenette just for her antics at the dance. Like the boy walking into the dance could have easily been Michelle.”

“The boy didn’t try to be a girl. He was just a boy in girl’s clothes.”

“Just a boy in girl’s clothes. Do you hear yourself?”

“Sorry. That’s how Michael explained it.”

“Michael or rather Michelle did the fucking party, and that was her takeaway? She’s a better crossdresser than most the men at the party because they don’t pass?”

“I don’t think –”

“Which brings us back to the dick thing. Forde thought Jennifer a lesser lawyer because Forde has a dick and Jennifer doesn’t.”

“Well, ah –”

“Do you ever in any of your wild imaginings look at another woman and think, I’m a better woman than she is? Of course not. You don’t have a dick.”

Shawn let out a deep sigh.

“I get it. Lenette likes Michael. I broke Michael’s heart one winter morning at the bottom of the school steps in 6^th grade when I told him I couldn’t be his girlfriend. I think he heard couldn’t as wouldn’t. He spent years imagining he was me when he jerked off.”

I waved everything aside. “Now, he found a girl who likes Michael, like I didn’t back in 6^th grade.”

Shawn pursed her lips. “This isn’t going to end well.”

“Michael needs to find his way. I am not grand enough to tell him what to do or not do with his life. I know from my time with Bill Locke that crossdressing is not a thing he has control over.”

“Michael and Lenette fall in love. Michael puts Michelle away. Years down the road, Lenette catches Michelle and that is that.”

“I had a man tell me he’d lose his job and his family if anyone found out.”

“I’m not grand enough, either. However.”

“You're blushing again.”

“Michael and I had a long talk last night, mostly about Lenette and Michael’s lack of experience.”

“It’s not like he has a father to talk to him about manly things.”

“Not that many fathers even know how women tick.”

“In my experience, men don’t care how women tick.”

“All your experience with men was rape. Rape is never about you.”

“You shall get no argument there. So, Michael fearing his lack of knowledge and experience, you offer him a show-and-tell?”

“Eh, well, like I said. I do not have the opposition to dick that you do.”

I chuckled. “I watched you two dance at Expressions. A blind guy driving by fast could have seen this coming.”

“He kisses like what he thinks a submission girl would, which was annoying. I told him to stop trying to be a lesbian, which annoyed him.”

“He, like most men, doesn’t take instruction, particularly from women.”

“That was Weber’s basic problem with me at the Nook. Anyway, forget the kissing lesson. I explained that women are different from men. Men get the instant boner, hump away like a horny dog. Women need to dance, to flirt, to touch, to smell the flowers.”

“He rolled his eyes, didn’t he?”

“He did. We get down to business. I can’t believe I had to show him how to put the rubber on.”

“You had a rubber?”

“I repeat. I’m not opposed to dick. Poke, poke, poke. I told him most the time the dick’s not going to find its own way. I reached around, planted my feet on the bed, pushed. He barely got balls deep when he came.”

“He got that thing all the way in you?”

“Oh, I forgot you’ve seen it. I considered keeping his dick in me while I got myself off.”

“Semen.”

“Yeah, soft dick, rubber comes off. I demonstrated five different ways to be me off. I made him get me off twice. His comment: Wow, that’s a lot of work.”

I rolled my eyes.

“He finally took the rubber off, offering it to me. My face screamed What the fuck. He shrugged, draining the rubber in his mouth, smacking his lips, telling me he loves the taste.”

“Eww, fucking, eww.”

“Right?”

“Mark spunked in my mouth a number of times when I was sleeping, Uncle Gropey, too.”

“Would you be upset if your brother were to die?”

“No. Matter of fact, I’d support ending this particular branch of the gene pool.”

“I suggested to Michael that he not do that when and if he ever fucks a girl.”

“Good suggestion. I’ll confess. I had a moment this morning where I thought of pushing you against the wall and finger fucking you.”

“I’ll confess, even the thought of that is a million times better than what Michael actually did. I’m also mature enough to know we shouldn’t complicate the workplace. I thought you’d be mad I fucked Michael.”

“Sounds like you fucking Michael was punishment enough.”

“He did suggest he’ll do better the next time.”

“Men and their assumptions.”

“More like wild imaginings. I was going to ask him what exactly he thought I’d wish to repeat.”

“You were afraid he’d boast about his dick.”

“With some show-and-tell. By the time he was slurping up his spunk, his dick was ready for round two. I’d had enough.”

 

Toby could never do the city even with her brief forays, I thought almost aloud, the white Towncar limousine rolling up.

“Miss Grimes,” the doorman, Stanley said, stepping in front of me, opening the door, offering a hand to the occupant.

Charlotte Clift wore a black silk crossover gown like a layer of skin, the material alive with her, black floppy hat, bright red hatband.

I took her hand from Stanley, raising, Charlotte instinctively rolling in a twirl. “Perfect complement, indeed,” I said.

“We’re like opposite twins, but I’m shorter.”

“I like your hair on your shoulders.”

“Me, too. Not when I’m working, though.”

We stepped toward the Commodore. “Have you eaten? We have time for a quick bite.”

“I’m too excited to eat. I’d get sick. You know, silk and all, not easy to clean. I could use a cocktail.”

I chuckled as we entered the lobby. “On an empty stomach. Not a great idea.”

“I have full faith in you to keep me from dancing on a table.”

“Miss Grimes,” greeted me again, Charlotte’s hand on my arm, the door to the ballroom opened for us, stage and raised runway in the middle, the room filling up quickly.

“Oh my gosh, Miss Grimes. I can’t breathe.”

“Slow, deep breaths, Miss Clift. Look around. You belong in this room. Know that.”

“Considering the event, people could dress better.”

I released a delight laugh, a laugh like an angel sighing, a laugh Toby could never pull off. “Do, please, Miss Clift, keep that opinion to yourself.”

“Miss Grimes.” Johnny presented himself.

“Johnny. Always nice to see you.”

He blushed, offered a nod. “Mrs. French asked whether you would wish to join her party.”

“I would very much like that.”

“Would you care for your usual?”

“I would. Miss Clift?”

“Miss Grimes?”

“What would you care for from the bar?”

“Oh. Manhattan.”

“Up or down?” Johnny asked.

“Down.” Charlotte glanced the room. “I don’t see anyone else with cocktails.”

Johnny blinked his dark Mediterranean eyes as if not understanding the statement, then said, “You’re up with the VIPs.”

“It’s like I stepped into a fairy tale,” she said as Johnny moved off. “What’s your usual?”

I smirked. “I don’t drink. Cold tea, ice, two cherries, short glass.”

“Smart. If you don’t have a drink, people will insist. When I was in high school, the parties in the woods. I didn’t drink or smoke. I’d still have a beer in one hand, an unlit cigarette in the other.”

As we crossed the spacious room, rows of chairs, people I did not know engaged us as if they knew us. I passed aloof pleasantries, Charlotte following my lead.

I stopped short, looking down. “Shawn Beedle,” said.

“Huh?” She narrowed her eyes.

I extended my hand. “Artemis Grimes. We have a mutual friend.”

Shawn stood quickly. “Holy fuck.”

“Have you eaten?”

“We’re going to find some place quiet after the show. She was so right about so many things.”

“Room 2204. Give your name at the desk. I won’t be using the room today. It’s a quiet place. Order anything you wish from room service. Their food is great. I may try to steal the chef.”

“2204. Thanks, eh, Artemis.” Her eyes went big. “Char.”

“Shawn. Small world.”

I glanced Lauren, Lauren still on her chair, distracted. I put my lips on Shawn’s ear. “Yeah. We shall kill him.”

Shawn nodded sharply, hard resolve.

 

What they called the VIP area was a platform the level of the runway, sporting fourteen VIPs, two of which I knew. “Mrs. French, Mr. Dixon,” I greeted, turning. “Allow me to present Charlotte Clift,” finally realizing the value of presenting.

Rote greetings were exchanged.

Dixon sat forward on this chair, eying me up, down then up again. “That is a beauty. Looks like it was made for you.”

“Thank you. It was.”

“Spoke to your grandfather.” He kept my eyes.

I didn’t flinch.

Mrs. French watched the stage preparations behind me. “At my request.”

I shrugged. “I really don’t follow what you’re saying.”

“Mrs. French wanted to make sure you’re who you say you are.”

“I still don’t understand. Who else would I be?”

“It’s all no never mind, Artie,” Dixon said much too loud. “Your grandfather had nothing but good things to say about you, though he’s wondering why you’d want to spend any time in Philadelphia.”

“He still sees me as that farm girl in red plaid shirt and blue jeans, bouncing on the Cub tractor, knocking down the north forty.”

“Artemis!” called from the stage thirty-five feet away.

I spun.

“I thought that was you!” Jacop Knapp, a hand to each cheek, rocked his head, then twirled a finger in the air.

I slowly circled, stopped facing the stage, hands on my hips.

He nodded, applauding subtly over his head.

I took Charlotte by the hand, raising again like I did at the limousine. She circled.

Knapp’s hands returned to his cheeks, mouth wide open, big eyes.

“Jacop Knapp,” I told Charlotte.

“I need that drink.”

 

After the hour and a half, I was tired of sitting, watching what looked like a variation of three designs, though the pomp and circumstance fun, Knapp entertaining. Charlotte, on her forth Manhattan, abandoned her notebook, taking my hand like a younger sister might at a circus, excited by the show.

Knapp looked at me from the stage, his hand fluttering in the air like a hummingbird.

“Can you walk without falling down?”

Charlotte stood with me. “I don’t think I’ll embarrass you.”

Working our way down, around, and to the back of the stage, Knapp greeted me with, “You did promise to share your designer with me.”

“I said I had a private designer, not that I’d share.” With a sweep of my arm behind me, I said, “Allow me to present Charlotte Clift. I think I’m going to take a walk.”

Knapp took her hand. “Charmed. A walk?” He quickly turned, “Artemis Grimes, wearing a mystery designer!”

I didn’t do the runway model walk, rather more like a celebrity in a parade, waving, greeting people, smiling, laughing. I turned at the end of the runway, signaling for Charlotte to join me. She managed not to stumble.

“Charlotte Clift!” Knapped announced.

 

Charlotte and I lingered in the makeshift backstage area, a couple of the real model stopping by to talk of nothing, offering false flattery. Charlotte babbled, expelling nervous energy. “I still can’t believe it. Any of it. I would have never ever for a second dreamed me on a runway like that.”

“Amazing what a couple of drinks will do.”

“It’s been four.” She took my hand, moving close, watching my eyes.

I took her up in a hug. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

“For what?”

“For what we’re not going to do.”

“Artemis, Artemis, Artemis,” Knapp proclaimed, entering, his arms wide.

I turned from Charlotte, allowing Knapp a pyramid hug. “You must give me your designer.”

“Oh, must I?”

He gave me the wide eyes. “You’re not going to believe this.”

“Probably not, Mr. Knapp.”

“Five people have shown interest.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“They want to buy your dress.”

“The Commadore would not appreciate me running around in my underwear.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’ve seen you in your underwear. The Commadore would not have a problem. You may share.”

“Not a good idea, Charlotte. Four drinks and all.”

“What are you two talking about?”

“It’s me, Mr. Knapp. I’m the designer.”

He enthusiastically took her hand. “You do amazing work. Amazing. Where did you school?”

“Eh, never had time for school.”

“Even more amazing! You’re a prodigy!”

“I love clothes.”

“Don’t we all. What do you say?”

I forced myself between them. “I say we can set up a meeting, talk about things.”

“I do tend to be impulsive. I’ve got a tent to take down. I’ll be in town until the end of the weekend. Room 1610.”

“You OK?” I asked, Knapp disappearing with a wink and a nod.

“Yeah. Lightheaded. He wants five of my dresses?”

I shrugged. “So far. I told you they’re good dresses.”

“Jacop Knapp. I met Jacop Knapp. He wants my dresses.”

“And you’re drunk.”

“I am drunk.”

“Johnny?”

“Miss Grimes. Sorry to interrupt. Mrs. French would like you to join her for dinner,” Johnny said from behind me.

I watched Charlotte’s eyes watching mine. “May I put you in a limo?”

“Of course, eh, Artemis. It’s not like were on a date and you have to see me home.”

Johnny offered his arm. “If I may, Miss Clift. Mrs. French has ordered a car.”

“She’s pretty good,” I said.

“She’s like a mind reader.”

 

Charlotte hung onto me at the curb like the world was ending, whispering in my ear. “I noticed the way you didn’t hug Mr. Knapp.”

“I take my hugging seriously. You know that.”

“Thanks for not letting me dance on any tables. Or letting him take advantage of me.”

“Tomorrow, seven. We can have dinner here.”

“Tony will be excited. I’m sure he won’t mind closing.”

 

Knapp caught me in the lobby with his dancing hand, calling my name as I headed for the dining room. “They wanted a model.”

As I came next to him, his arm found my waist. I returned the favor.

“All my models are off the clock.”

“I was never on the clock.”

Camera flash washed us.

“Get off your knee,” I said to the man with the camera. “Low angle could make Mr. Knapp look sinister.”

He stood, cranking the lens.

I tilted my head against Knapp’s, Knapp being shorter, my right arm projected out, palm up.

“Oh, that’s so perfect,” the man with the camera said.

“I guess you’ve been photographed a lot,” Knapp said, releasing me.

“Other end of the camera.”

“Really?”

“How long have you modeled?” Chase Hastings asked, notebook and pen at the ready.

“What’s your name?”

The man with the camera, almost a cliché, thin, light brown suit jacket draped on his shoulders, scruffy tan hair over his ears, dark eyes, his face colored with confused, stammered, “Carl Little.”

“Get ready, Mr. Little.”

I placed my hat high on Knapp’s chest, putting my red lips to his cheek, saying, “Roll your eyes to your left.”

I replaced my hat. “Not a good news photo. Mr. Knapp will love it as a personal memento.”

“I’m shooting black & white.”

“All the better.” I turned to Hastings. “Who are you?”

“I’m with the Herald Post.”

“Wasn’t the question. Your name?”

“Eh, Chase Hastings.”

“I am not a model, Miss Hastings.”

“Huh?”

“I was answering your question.”

“Sorry,” Knapp cut in. “Artemis is not with the show. She’s a personal friend of mine.”

I symbolically leaned forward, eying her notebook. “Artemis Grimes. Spelled just as if sounds.”

“And you are?”

“Jacop Knapp’s personal friend from out of town.” I narrowed my eyes. “Hastings. I met a Jerry Hastings the other night. Your father?”

“Ah, uncle.”

“Jerry’s your uncle?” Knapp asked, wide-eyed.

Hastings blushed, taking a deep breath.

I nodded. “Reporter for the Herald Post,” changing the subject. “Are you an actual journalist or a bit of office eye candy to cover fashion shows, street closings, and PTA meetings?”

“Chase covers a lot of important stuff,” Little objected.

“Mr. Little. If I may offer a touch of speculation. Miss Hastings strikes me as a woman who does not need a man to come to her defense.”

Knapp laughed.

Hastings held my eyes. “I was dropped into my position. I fight every day to earn my place at the table. If I may offer a touch of speculation. I suspect you know exactly what I’m talking about, which is why you baited me.”

“Mr. Little.” I offered a nod. “Miss Hastings.” I winked. “Mr. Knapp. Pencil us in for seven tomorrow evening. In the dining room.”

“Penciled!”

 

Just for a moment, I wanted to be Toby, clad with shadow, moving unseen, invisible. Back straight, I dismissively answered greetings from strangers, faces I did not know clambering for even an eyedropper squeeze of affirmation from me. I was thankful for the persona, the armor that was Artemis Grimes.

Toby would have been crushed by the attention.

“Mr. Dixon,” I greeted, the man watching the room, elbows and back on the bar.

“Artie!”

“Please don’t do that.”

“Artemis!”

“Better. Thank you.”

He drew hard on his drink. “Who’s your target?”

“I’m really tempted to give you some wide eyes, ask you what you mean.”

He chuckled. “I’d consider paying to see that.”

“Reginald Abner.”

“Oh, big fish.”

“Call me Ishmael. You?”

“Mark Hastings.”

“I rather did enjoy you riding his brother at the card game. What has Mark done to deserve your attention?”

“What has Abner done? The only reason someone shows their cards at the table is because she wants them to be seen.”

“I was that transparent?”

“Only to me. One con can easily spot another.”

“I’m embarrassed I didn’t spot you.”

“I’ve been in over a year and I’m three times your age.”

“I guess I’m lucky Mrs. French asked you –”

“Luck had nothing to do with it. I happened to mention I know your grandfather.”

“One con to another.”

“The wind could have changed direction, you’d be dead.”

I shrugged casually. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” I nodded toward the entrance. “The woman with the notepad?”

“I hate reporters.”

“You should give her a howdy, ma’am, talk her up a bit.”

“Why would I ever wish to do that?”

“Might get your picture in the paper. And she’s Mark Hastings’ daughter.”

He pulled on his chin. “You don’t say.”

“Mr. Dixon.”

“Charmed,” he replied to my back as I walked away.

 

“Artemis,” Mrs. French greeted.

“Dining alone?”

“With you. I am not a people person. I enjoy my own company.”

A waiter appeared, obviously timed with my arrival. He was an older man, serious brown eyes, hair cropped close, a casual dark tuxedo, as much as any tuxedo can be called casual.

“I don’t need a menu,” I said. “I’d like to try the shrimp scampi.”

“The usual from the bar, Miss Grimes?”

Mrs. French requested the flounder.

“People. I do understand what you're saying.”

“You flourish in attention, like that woman that was with you.”

“Charlotte is a good friend of mine.”

“She adores you. It’s easy to be friends with someone who adores you. I expected to see you with an entourage.”

“I only had two passes.”

“Your wit is so subtle, it’s charming.”

“I expected you to have an entourage at the table.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’re obviously an important person. Non-important people like to gather around important people.”

The food arrived.

“What do you do, Miss Grimes?”

“Mrs. French.” I packed my tone of voice with as much seriousness as I could without catching the white silk tablecloth on fire. “I’m a private problem solver.”

“Oh, do tell. What sort of problems?”

“That would be the private part, Mrs. French.”

Mrs. French tasted her white wine, laughing brittlely. “Oh, I like you.”

Johnny appeared, going to Mrs. French’s far ear.

She twisted her face as if shit were smeared on her upper lip. “You will excuse me for a moment?”

“Of course.”

She set her cloth napkin to the left of her plate, finding her feet, marching off. I was probably obvious in my attempt not to be obvious, watching Mrs. French fifty paces off, just outside the restaurant entrance in the lobby aggressively engaging another woman.

Mary Locke was in her cliché jeans, gray hooded sweatshirt, sneakers. Even with her hood up there was no mistaking Locke and there was no mistaking her looking like a puppy being scolded for shitting on the carpet.

I smirked the smirkiest smirk that was ever smirked, returning to a great scampi.

“Sorry about that.” Mrs. French fluffed the napkin open on her lap. “Where were we?”

“You were just about to tell me what you do.”

“I doubt that. I’m a businesswoman.”

“Like a unicorn.”

“That’s a great analogy.”

“Men, Mrs. French, are like willful children.”

“Yes, they are.”

“Did you read Grimm as a child. Fairy tales?”

“Eh, no. My childhood was focused on important things.”

I shrugged away the dismissal of my lifeblood. “Much of Eastern European fairy tales like Grimm were instructions concerning willful children.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. The willful child did not fare well.”

She laughed again. “I have an employee who stole from me. Very frustrating.”

“Have you tried the Steven Langley solution?”

“The what?”

“Steven Langley. The hustler at the card game the other night. The cliché willful child.”

“Oh, him. Hustler is the polite term.”

“Prostitute.”

“Jerry should have known better. I should have known better.

“We all have our kink, Mrs. French. We all have our hustle even if it’s just to get our father to buy us that new bike for Christmas.”

“Jerry is drawn to children.”

“That was obvious.”

“You’re a beautiful woman. Growing up, you must have known what it was like to have adults, grown man, attracted to you.”

“I did, Mrs. French.”

“The damage those men can do.”

“We’re not talking about Mr. Hastings.”

“No, we are not. I’ve heard rumors, mind you.”

“I avoid speculation and conjecture. The man who stole from you?”

She released a deep sigh. “Is that the kind of private problem you solve?”

I kept her eyes. “What is the solution you’re looking for?”

“First and foremost, we want our money back.”

“No, Mrs. French. I am not a debt collector. What you’re looking for is a twenty-buck knee capper, found in any corner bar at two o'clock in the afternoon.”

“Do you think me naive, Miss Grimes?”

“I do not. OK. I assume we’re talking about more than a few thousand dollars.”

“Much, much more.”

“I assume, then, you’ve had accounting experts go over his life with a flea egg comb. Friends, family. Bank accounts, mattresses, pulled up floorboards.”

“We have.”

“There comes a tipping point where the search for the money has cost more than the missing money. Then, the motive is no longer to recover money.”

“I know.”

“That’s where you should have started. Save all the wasted time and effort.”

She sat back, holding her wine glass over her head. “I’ve needed this. To talk to someone outside my circle.”

The glass disappeared.

“A circle of people who always agree with you. To be the smartest person in the room, we need to listen to everyone else in the room.”

“My conclusion can only be sound if it’s challenged, refined, honed.”

“Being able to challenge yourself on what you believe is a gift few people possess.”

“Would you like to be a paid consultant? Narrowly on this matter? I have exhausted my internal resources.”

“That, Mrs. French, would depend on many things, the first and foremost, the money.”

“How’s twenty five percent of what you recover?”

I chuckled grimly. “I’ll take a shot at drawing to an inside straight because doing so is fun and exciting. I find nothing fun or exciting about slopping around in this human quagmire. Your money is likely buried six feet under in the Pine Barrens where only three people know the location and like a pirate's treasure, two of those people are dead.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re in town from Ohio?”

“The Pine Barrens are what brought me to town.”

“I like you, Miss Grimes. I want you on this. I’ll have a file left at the desk. Give it serious consideration. We’ll talk.”

“Saturday.”

“Oh, you’re coming?”

“Where else can I draw to an inside straight?”

 

“Antoinette,” my newspaper said in a hushed male voice.

I rattled the paper over my eggs and coffee, setting all the news fit to print aside. “Mr. Bancroft.” I wanted to ask, bad night, but left well enough alone.

He dropped heavy to a chair, opened a folder, handing me a pen. “Sigh where I marked.”

“Sign what?”

“There’s a lot.” He looked around suspiciously because I live a cliché. “This transfers ownership of the Newton property to you.”

One sheet followed another.

Signing, I said, “I guess there’s going to be no wrangling.”

He laid a hard stare on me. “Prints and negatives. Burn them. I want you to forget my name. You have no idea how this could blow up my life.”

I grimaced a hard stare back. “Maybe keep your dick in your pants instead of fucking the hired help, a woman under you who wasn’t in a position to say no. Know this, Bancroft, if Lauren gets fired or even gets her hours cut, I’m going to bring the entire state of New Jersey down on your head.”

“Eh, that’s out of my control.”

I may have snarled. “Hit her – again, or even throw a cross word at her, I’ll kill you.” I tossed the last sheet of paper in front of him.

His face went a shade of white. “The house on Newton. Yours. I’ll put a copy in the mail to you.”

“I can stop by –”

He stood. “I think we understand each other.”

“We do. Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Fuck you.”

Allen Weber watched Bancroft hurry out the door. “Everything alright? I mean with your eggs.”

“Your eggs are always great, Mr. Weber.”

“Good, good. I thought Shawn –”

“I’m expecting her. I think she had a late night last night.” I stood. “Speaking of.”

I accepted Charlotte Clift in a long hug.

“I don’t feel so good,” she said in my ear.

“I can’t imagine why.”

We sat across from each other.

“Toast and coffee, Allen.”

“Is that all?” he asked.

“We’ll see.”

She looked around the Nook, settling on me. “Firstly, Toby, let me offer that thank you that you mentioned.”

“Understood.”

She blushed. “You could have –”

“Understood, Charlotte.”

“I should not drink on an empty stomach.”

“Maybe not that much, anyway.”

“I’ve done things drunk I wouldn’t have done sober.”

“At the parties. In the woods.”

“Well, it was only once, actually.”

“I know this story.”

“For me, one drink likes another.”

The toast and coffee arrived.

“I’m tempted to regale you with a story of how it’s not you who did a thing when you were drunk, but rather a thing was done to you when you were drunk.”

She released the sigh of all sighs. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s not.”

“No, it isn’t. I do understand all that. Still.”

If you ever wish to talk about what happened, I’ll loan you Pamala for a couple hours.

I said instead, “Our social culture gives us no power, yet convinces us we’re responsible for everything.”

“This coffee tastes like more. I understand all that with one side of my brain, the other side, not so much.”

“That, I understand, too.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jacop Knapp.”

“Yes, Jacop Knapp.”

“That really happened?”

“It did.”

“I was on the runway?”

“You were.”

“I remember last night more like a book I read rather than something that happened. Artemis Grimes.”

I may have blushed, just a little. “Yes. Artemis.”

“She’s so much not like you.”

“She’s the secret.”

“I gathered that.”

“She’s your fault.”

“How’s that?”

“The day you gave me the hat and sunglasses.”

“I remember that!”

“I was mistaken for a someone, so I became that someone.”

“She’s pretty cool. When are we going out again?”

“Tonight. Seven o’clock.”

“That was real?”

I chuckled. “Business dinner at the Commodore.”

“I can’t believe I met Jacop Knapp.”

“And he likes your work.”

“He wanted your dress?”

“Not exactly. Between here and there, consider what you want.”

“Like what?”

“I have no idea how it works. I guess you could take orders or sell your designs.”

“I’m sure Jacop will be fair.”

“I’m sure I’ll talk to my lawyer today.”

“You think I need a lawyer?”

“I’ll share.”

Weber intercepted Shawn halfway to the table, taking her up in a bear hug. They spoke, Weber hurrying back to the kitchen.

“Why are you still sitting?” Shawn asked me. “Hi, Char.”

The universe stopped for three minutes.

“Don’t make me ask,” Shawn told Charlotte.

Another three minutes, lost.

Shawn dropped next to me. “Late night, Char?”

“Hung over.”

“I know that feeling. I have no idea why I’m so surprised in the morning.”

“Was that Lauren from the bank with you last night?”

“Yes, that was Lauren.”

“Are you two –”

“No, we are not. Though she’s going dancing with me and Pamala tomorrow. Interested?”

“Eh, me? God no. Tomorrow? I’m working anyway.”

Shawn shrugged. “I’m not intruding?”

“No,” I said. “I see you made nice with Mr. Weber.”

“The eggs are good. He’s crushed I’m not coming back to work.”

“You quit?” Charlotte asked.

“I left for a better job. Working for Toby.” She pulled a bag from the floor. “We need to go over the work for Thomas.” She placed the Harriet Stiles property estimate on the table. “I love this format. Jennifer does do great work. I’m going to steal it.”

I rolled my eyes, elbow on the table, head on my hand, watching Shawn. “I’m going to mow three lawns. There’s a deposit made out in the top right desk drawer. You can drop that by the bank whenever you wish today.”

“I’ll help with the lawns.”

“See Jane Wilkins. Bring her up to speed on what we did yesterday.”

“Taxi Jane? I’m not one hundred percent sure what we actually did yesterday.”

“I own the company. Over the weekend, I’ll be closing her books out, opening new books. What she needs to know is all the debt associated with the cab company, business and personal, is gone.

“I want her to stay on, run things as she had. I’ll be putting her on salary. I don’t have the number yet. She’ll like it.”

“You bought the cab company?” Charlotte asked.

“I bought the debt to keep the company from going under.”

“Wow.”

“Spend some time with Jane. Get a feel how dispatch works.”

“OK.”

“Assure everyone any changes they see will be good changes. No one is going to lose their job.”

“Got it. You want me to be your face.”

“Exactly, number one.”

 

Part 27