Kiss of Noir (23 page)

“Go ahead.” Ellis tipped the tray and everything dropped to the carpet sounding like golf balls falling. I gasped, hoping the jewels weren’t offended.

“Ellis! You’ll hurt them.” I was on my knees, rescuing the pieces.

Ellis laughed, his voice harsh. “No, I won’t. This is what I’m saying. This is paste. These are fakes.”

I sat cross-legged, hugging the jewelry. “Fakes?” I held one to my eye. All I saw was twinkling color.

“They’re excellent fakes, but fakes just the same.” Ellis looked as if he’d like to smash all of it. “That dirty whore.”

“What? How?” I was hypnotized speechless by the jewelry.

Ellis sat on the floor with me. “Julia had them made. Three complete sets. She had one made in Dallas, one in LA, and one in Chicago. I know this because I found out that two other brothers, one in New Jersey and one in Florida, have the other two sets and all of us are convinced we have the real things.”

Ellis let that sink in. I weighed the pieces in my hands. The wind screamed around the corner, rain drummed on the roof. We could hear things flying down the street bumping and hitting as they went. “What can I say? She had become such a good customer with such frequency that after a while, I quit checking the jewelry so closely. She always redeemed it on time, so I started trusting her more and more. Turns out, those jewels haven’t been out of her husband’s safe in years.”

“But she pawned the real stuff to you the first few times?”

“Yeah, because I was real cautious at first. It was a lot of money. I don’t know how she snuck it out, but what I saw was authentic. After about a year, I quit examining so hard.”

“How do you know about the husband’s safe?”

“Because help knows and help talks.”

“And you believe them?”

“Mmm, let’s see, believe them and all the evidence I got here, including those pieces of crap,” Ellis indicated the baubles, “or believe a cross-eyed, lying sack of shit.”

“So what happened?”

“This last time, she ain’t been back for them. I got lots of money tied up in these and I called to tell her she’s got to give me the cash or I’d sell her stuff. I never heard from her. So I went by her house and told her I needed the money or that I would get it from her husband, but I wasn’t going to be left holding the bag on this deal. She can’t do me that way.”

“What did she do?”

“Flew into a rage, threatening me and blaming me if she ends up on the streets. Screamed so loud the butler asked me to leave. Sayan saw her photo in the paper and then I got to looking at these gems because if they were real and I sold ’em, I’d be sitting pretty on the plus side. But they’re just very good fakes. Expensive glass and semi-precious stones. Beautiful but not worth a fraction of the real and nowhere near what she borrowed on them.”

“What now?”

“She’s been trying to buy time with stalling and promises and she still threatens me. She’s even sent some clowns around to rough me up.”

I stood, the jewelry dropping forgotten. “Who?” I said. “I’ll go fuck them up right now.”

Ellis laughed and punched me in the arm as he stood. “Good old T-Bone. S’awright, I can handle myself.” His cell phone rang.

“It’s Sayan. We need to go,” I said.

But Ellis’s voice was sharp and angry. “You crazy bitch! You think you can cheat me and get away with it? Where are you now? That right? Well, you leave me no choice! Bring me the money now and your husband never finds out. Otherwise, I keep my appointment with him tonight, storm or no storm.” Ellis closed his phone and snapped off the lamp. “Let’s go. Suppertime.”

“What’s she gonna do?”

“Who knows? I can’t worry about it.” Ellis tidied up the room and replaced the fakes in the safe.

“Why don’t we swing by and pick up Cleo and invite him for dinner too?” I said.

“Now that’s a good idea.” Ellis smiled. “Let’s do it.”

On the road, Ellis swerved, struggling to maintain control of the car. I gripped the door, my legs stiff and tense, pressing against the floor. We were both soaked from the run to the car and we were panting softly in tandem.

The wipers beat the water back at a furious pace but didn’t help visibility at all. The only other traffic on the road was the occasional emergency vehicle screaming by. Many roads were already flooded and blocked off.

“Shit!” Ellis jerked the car to avoid a picnic table rushing at us.

“Listen, maybe we should just—” I began before Ellis plowed into a group of trundling metal garbage cans. It was an explosion of sound and papers that were not yet wet puffing into the air.

“Just shut up for a while, all right?” Ellis barked.

I scowled at him. “Not cool, cuz. I’ll drive if you’re too nervous.” I unbuckled my seat belt.

Ellis closed his eyes and sighed. “Sorry, Nora.” Ellis opened his eyes and stared at me. “Sayan will be frantic. I’ll sleep on the couch for days.”

“No, you won’t. My man’s not getting knocked off the honey pot. C’mon, slide out. I’ll handle this.” I shoved Ellis out the door and into the storm as I moved to the driver’s seat. He ran around to the passenger side and got in, fresh water rolling off him as if he’d emerged from a pool. “I need a hat like yours,” I said, again admiring his fedora, from which water streamed.

“Why? To keep your hair dry?” Ellis quipped.

I backed up, dragging a trash can for a ways, and then I stepped on the gas, tires screeching.

“Whoa, Nora, slow up.” Ellis’s hands were balled into fists.

But now that I was in control, I finally relaxed, dodging obstacles and swinging the car around water ditches and parked vehicles with ease and holding the car steady when it hydroplaned. Tree branches and moss flew through the air like missiles. I smiled, totally focused. I fumbled in my pockets for a cigarette to smoke while driving. Then I could really relax and enjoy the ride. I let go of the wheel and looked down, searching.

“Shit!” Ellis cried, grabbing the steering wheel. “What the hell you doing?”

“Smoke,” I replied tranquilly.

“I’ll get it for you. Fuck. Just drive!” Ellis rummaged in my pockets and placed a wilted cigarette in my mouth. Rain beat on the vehicle as if it were a kettle drum.

“Match?” I asked placidly.

“Match,” Ellis muttered. “She wants a match. The whole state is being blown off the map and she wants a match.” He extracted a broken wooden one from my breast pocket. I thumbed it to flame and sucked fire into the tobacco.

“Ahhhhhh,” I sighed, settling into driving. I increased our speed. Rain sluiced across the windshield, the wipers unable to keep up.

“Exciting,” I said. “Just like a video game.”

“But it
isn’t
,” Ellis said. I grinned and patted his leg.

“Which way?” I asked. I had not even tried to learn my way around the serpentine weaving of roads that was Bayou La Belle D’eau. Too spooky and swampy. I had memorized the streets from Ellis and Sayan’s house to the pawn and that was all. We squinted in all directions. Trees bent and whirled. Everything looked under shallow water already.

“Maybe we should just go home,” Ellis said. “Cleo can take care of himself. I’m worried about Sayan.”

“No, we’re close, right? You know he would like a hot home-cooked meal tonight. Fifteen minutes, we’re home. Which way?”

Ellis pointed.

I sped off. When the pawn was half a block away, the car lost control and spun in doughnuts. “Wheeeeeeee!” I shouted, letting go of the wheel.

“Goddamn it!” Ellis yelled, clutching the dash. “We’re hydroplaning!”

We came to rest crossways in the street, our headlights pointing at the pawn. A news van raced around us toward the Gulf.

“You crazy!” Ellis cried, glaring at me. Then he frowned at the pawn. “It’s dark.”

“Maybe he locked up and went on home,” I said.

“Naw, naw, he always leaves the lights on over the register.”

“Power’s out?”

“Could be.” Ellis tightened the belt on his leather jacket. “Something is wrong.”

We ran up to the door, getting soaked to the knees and down our backs. The door was unlocked.

“Uh-oh.” Ellis pushed me behind him as if to shield me. “Stay back,” he said.

“Like hell I will,” I answered, shoving past him and yanking open the door, then charging into the darkness.

It was too quiet. The smell was wrong too, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. Ellis stood silently next to me. “Nothing is missing,” he said, looking around.

“Cleo?” I called. “Drew?”

“Cleo!” Ellis shouted. “C’mon, man, time for supper. Sayan is waiting.” Ellis had drawn a gun and began creeping through the store.

“Cleo?” I flicked the light switches. Nothing. “Power’s out.” I headed for the back rooms. Near the filing cabinets, I stumbled over something. My stomach knotted. I knelt. It was a cold hand. “Ellis!” I yelled. “He’s in here! Call nine-one-one! Get a flashlight! Heart attack!” I sat at Cleo’s shoulder and felt my way up the arm to his head. I rested my hand on his cheek. I could feel him barely breathing. “Cleo, hang on. Everything will be all right.” I heard Ellis speaking to 911. He rushed in, brandishing a flashlight whose beam bounced crazily over the walls, making a lurid picture and creating a nauseating vertigo in me.

“Cleo.” Ellis sat beside him. “How you doing?” When he shone the light on Cleo, his eyes were open and he was drenched in blood. “Oh my God!” Ellis jumped away. The flashlight fell to the ground. “What the fuck happened to you?”

I picked up the light and shone it on the ceiling so it wouldn’t be in Cleo’s face. “Ellis, go outside and wait. Flag down the ambulance when they come.” I knew the emergency techs might never arrive, considering the storm. Familiar with taking the lead and directing others, I convinced Ellis to go. On his way out, I heard him call Sayan and start sniffling, his voice wavery.

“Cleo,” I said softly.

He looked at me and smiled. “I took the bullet for him. Tell him, okay? I took Ellis’s bullet. She thought I was him.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be all right.”

Cleo shook his head. “Lemme go.”

I felt punched in the throat and I labored to breathe. “But…no, you can’t…”

Cleo nodded. “Lemme go. It’s okay,” he repeated, exhausted with effort. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

I couldn’t do anything more, so I just sat with him. “Cleo, tell me who did this,” I finally said. “Who shot you? Was it Julia?”

His eyes remained closed. “No, not her,” he said. His breathing stopped. I kissed his cheek, turned off the flashlight, and just sat with my hand on his chest until the ambulance arrived. When I heard Ellis bringing them in, I stood, turned on the flashlight, and filled my eyes with the sight of my beloved Cleo. As my smashed heart struggled to beat, a canyon of dark agony opened up in my chest and boiling blood surged through me. I spied Cleo’s crumpled fedora flung against the far wall. I scooped it up, put it on, and fled out the back door and into the fierce stormy night.

I had no idea where to go or what to do. I only knew that with Cleo dead, nothing mattered. I also knew I couldn’t return to Ellis’s home and be marinated in their grief on top of my own. I would not be able to tolerate Sayan’s soft crying, Ellis wiping his eyes, his hands hanging limp and useless. My entire being was now composed of a thin bubble shell of fragile glass, and any family around would shatter me. I couldn’t stand the long, wet, soulful looks, the inane talk trying to make sense of it, the shrugged shoulders and repetition of how it must be God’s will, the extra-long hugs, the dark suits and arm slapping, the praise of how brave everyone was being and how strong we must all continue to be. And most of all, I couldn’t take the smiles and the stories. How everyone would gather and tell loving funny tales about Cleo. How women would eat the salads and desserts, the men would eat the meat from the lavish death buffet, and all would sit close over their plates and reminisce, laughing, nodding, slapping thighs, brandy and cigars toasting Cleo, crying a little but in a sweet way because Cleo was in a better place now and didn’t we all just love him to pieces and wasn’t he a helluva good black man and didn’t he bless us all our lives and we were so damn lucky to even know him and he’ll be our angel in heaven watching over us and hot damn we had some good times, remember this? Remember? Remember?

I ran, not caring where, the fedora jammed tight on my head. Cleo shouldn’t be a “remember.” It violated my soul that he was. I ran. I ran, not heeding the driving wind, not caring about the scary swamps, not noticing the churning levees, indifferent to being swept up into a hurricane or blown out to sea. I didn’t mind the wet. The rain attacked me from above like hooves on my back, and from below, like hard spray as I ran, laboring, splashing through the water sometimes as deep as a bathtub.

I ran, not knowing where, not caring. As I ran out of town, I saw the chaos of the storm: people’s belongings flying everywhere, things floating and things crashed and flattened, cars abandoned in the rising floodwaters, the empty homes with boards and tape over the windows, the water lapping at the miles of sandbags, a dog swimming with the current, police cars and roadblocks.