by Len Melvin
There was a sharp rap on Malouf’s door. He pushed the top of the laptop halfway down, alert in an instant. It was Saturday afternoon, unusually late for housekeeping, and the guys knew better than to come to his room unless it was an emergency. “Who’s there?” He put a hand on the black baton that was in the inside pocket of the jacket folded over the chair behind him.
“Housekeeping,” a meek voice replied.
“Okay, come in.” Malouf took his hand off the baton.
A slim figure with long legs under a short black skirt came through the door, a bundle of towels held up in front of her face. “You asked for towels, Mister?”
“I didn’t—” Malouf stopped in mid-sentence. The woman brought the towels down to her side exposing an open face below tassels of curly blonde hair and fitted with a broad smile. He sat back in the chair, mouth agape. “What are you doing here?”
“Just thought I’d see where you stay and all,” Beaux said. “Seems like I only see you at the restaurant.” Malouf was silent, staring at her. “Mind if I sit down?”
He hesitated and then waved to a chair near the window.
Beaux placed the towels on a table and went to the chair. She scanned the room and then sat down, crossing one leg over the other. “Nice place. You have it all to yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“How come you get your own room and the others stay together in one room?”
Malouf closed the laptop and turned his chair toward Beaux. “How did you know where I was staying? And how do you know they all stay together?”
“One of my best friend’s family owns the hotel,” Beaux said. “That’s where I got the towels. I told my friend it was a kind of a joke. So,” Beaux put an arm over the back of the chair, “how come you get your own room and they have to all share one?”
“Well, I’m the boss and they’re the employees.”
“What do you guys do?”
Malouf shifted in his chair. “We work in film.”
“Really? What kind of film?”
“We make documentaries.”
“Where are you guys from?”
Malouf hesitated. “L.A.” he said unevenly.
“Liberals, I guess.” Malouf didn’t respond. “What kind of documentaries?”
“Listen, Beaux, I’m sorry but I’m busy. Maybe we can talk later at the restaurant.” Beaux didn’t move. Malouf leaned forward, both of his hands on his knees. “Aren’t you a little nervous coming into the hotel room of an older guy who you don’t know?”
“People saw me enter. I think it would be pretty dumb of you to try to do something to me against my will.” Beaux tapped the handle of the gun that was in the holster affixed to her waist. “Plus, I can handle myself.”
“What do you want? Why did you come here?” Beaux shifted in her chair exposing her long legs. Malouf stood and walked to the minibar and pulled out a beer. He had on black jeans and wore a green t-shirt, that his biceps strained against. He had a five-day-old-beard and his hair was tied in somewhat of a ponytail.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen you in something other than a jacket or long coat.”
He opened the beer and took a swallow as he stared at Beaux. “I’m a little old for you, you know.”
Beaux shifted in her chair. “Not really.”
Malouf stood, arms crossed at his waist, the beer held in one hand. “Thirteen years is a lot.”
“I’m a lot older than eighteen.”
“How so?”
Beaux rose and walked to the minibar, opened it and pulled out a beer. She took the opener off the counter and popped the top off the beer. She took a deep swallow and smiled. “I practically run the restaurant. I have to take care of the twins. My mom lurches from one crisis to another and from one man to another. I’m basically the head of the family.” She went back to her chair and slid into it, her skirt hiked up to mid-thigh.
“Twins?”
“I’ve got twin half-brothers that are twelve. They work in the restaurant also.”
“What about your dad?”
“I don’t have one,” she said matter of factly, no hint of emotion in her voice.
“What?” Malouf tilted his head in curiosity.
“At least not one I know. He was a soldier stationed at the local army base but that’s about all my mom remembers. She didn’t get his name or if she did, she doesn’t remember it. She says he was smart and handsome and and some sort of officer but that’s about it.” She took another sip of beer. “So, I basically do what I want.”
“And now, Beaux,” Malouf said, “what do you want?”
“I want to hang out with you.”
“Why?”
“You’re cute and cool and interesting,” Beaux smiled.
Malouf half-rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. “C’mon.”
Beaux put her beer down, then stood and crossed the room. She grabbed Malouf’s left hand, looked him in the eye, and then turned the palm upward. She rubbed her hand across the faint red line that extended the length of the palm. “I saw you save that girl.”
Malouf jerked his hand from her grasp. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s the reason I wasn’t scared to come up to your room.”
“I’m not sure what you’re…”
“We get a New Orleans channel here. I saw you. You saved that girl.” Beaux put her palm on his chest. “I knew then you were a good guy.”
“You’ve got me mistaken for someone else.” Malouf removed Beaux’s hand from his chest.
“I saw the way you moved. I knew it was you.”
“The way I moved?” Malouf took a step back.
“Yeah. And there was still a faint shimmer of blue around you.”
Malouf took a deep breath and then turned and walked across the room. He put his back to the window and leaned against its frame. “So, now what?”
Beaux walked to the nightstand beside the bed. She picked up the remote and looked at Malouf. “You mind if I watch a movie?”
Malouf narrowed his eyes. “A movie?”
“You don’t get surprised much, do you?” Malouf said nothing as he stared at Beaux, his arms folded over his chest. Beaux sat on the bed. “Yeah, I love movies. And I figured you’re going to be busy following those guys this afternoon.”
Malouf stood erect, his body tense. “What do you mean?”
“And surprised again. That’s twice.” Beaux grinned as she pointed the remote at the television. “The guys you’ve been following. They’re meeting soon.”
“What do you mean ‘the guys we’ve been following?”’ Malouf asked, a bit flustered, his voice rising in annoyance. “Where? How do you know that?”
“Trust me. They’re meeting in about twenty minutes.”
“What do you mean, ‘the guys we’ve been following?’” Malouf repeated, his voice filling the room. He took a step toward Beaux. “Tell me how you know that.”
An image flickered across the screen as Beaux settled into the bed. “Better hurry,” she said. “I heard something about a walk-through.”
Malouf glared at her for a moment and then strode across the room. He picked up his jacket from the chair, went to the door and opened it. He turned back and pointed a finger at Beaux. “You stay right here.”
Beaux smiled and turned over in the bed. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“And don’t touch anything.” She heard him yelling at the others in the next room and then the sound of the television drowned out his voice.
◆◆◆
Malouf came back into his room two hours later. He locked the door behind him, went to the minibar, and threw his jacket in annoyance against the desk across the room. Those guys had almost fucked everything up again. It wouldn’t have been good to miss what had happened today.
He pulled out a beer and popped it open. The television was on low and the curtain flapped in front of the open window. In the scant light, he could see a figure in the bed, sleeping. How did she kn
ow we were following those guys? And how did she know about the meeting? He watched her sleep and wondered what he should do. Well, he knew what he should do. Get her ass out of here right now. This could be nothing but trouble.
Still, he had to admit she was unusual. And pretty. And cool. He took a sip of beer as he continued to look at her. This is crazy. If that stunt in New Orleans got back to his superiors, he’d already be in trouble. And now there was an eighteen-year old in his bed.
He brushed his hand across the back of the chair and knocked some items of clothing to the floor. He bent and picked them up and put them back on the chair without looking at them. He took another sip of beer and stared at the figure lying still in the bed. Something occurred to him and he looked back at the clothes he had just picked up. He held up a bra and a black skirt, turning them over in his hands before he put them back on the chair. He took a deep breath and looked again at Beaux.
He tossed the empty beer bottle into the trash can, then walked over to the bed. The light from the television flickered across the bed, illuminating the remote. He picked it up, turned off the television and sat on the side of the bed. He pulled his shoes and socks off and tossed them across the room. Then he stood, unbuckled his trousers and shimmied into bed and under the covers. He laughed under his breath as he extended his arm and felt warm, bare skin.
He, of all people, had never seen this coming.
“Did you get them?” she asked, her voice slight.
“Yeah, we got them.”
“Good,” she said and wrapped an arm around his body.
◆◆◆
The petite black girl stood waiting on the toilet seat. Stretching, she peered over the edge of her stall, then checked the clock on her phone and stepped down to the floor. She pulled a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and put them on as she headed for the bathroom door. Easing it open, she peeked through the crack. Fondren Hall was deserted.
Good.
She went back to the stall, hefted a bulky backpack off the back of the toilet and slung it over one shoulder. The package containing the 300 Win Mag was heavy, but still, she tucked it under one arm. She moved carefully out onto the floor of the Bell Tower. The hall was empty as she had been told it would be. She found a spot near the side wall and lowered her backpack to the ground.
Gaby located the rope ladder that had been attached to the ceiling for her just moments before. She stood the backpack upright, took the cord that was attached to the hook on top and placed the end of it between her teeth. She swung the package carrying the 300 Win Mag over her shoulder and put a foot on the first rung. It swung back and forth for a moment, and she paused as she waited for it to stabilize. She scanned the inside of the bell tower, made sure that she was alone and began to climb.
She reached the top after several tense minutes and clambered to the safety of a ledge. Taking the cord from her mouth she wrapped it over a beam than ran from one wall to another. The backpack rose in a slow dance, moving to and fro. With both hands she pulled until the backpack was even to where she was standing. She leaned over, secured the backpack with her hand, and pulled it over to and on top of the ledge. She sat, wiped an arm across her brow and checked the floor one more time.
No one had seen her. So far, so good
Next to her on the ledge, a metal handle ran along the wall at waist level. She stood and grabbed the handle with both hands. After a moment, it opened, emitting a low, creaking sound. She cringed, then checked the open space below her one more time.
Still nothing.
She pulled the handle again and gradually eased the door open. The opening was just barely big enough to squeeze her backpack through.
She got down on her knees and peered into the space. The stench of musty air struck Gaby like a punch and she recoiled and put a hand to her face. She brought a cloth from her backpack, covered her face and looked back into the room. A street light from the campus provided the only light and cast an eerie, uneven shadow throughout the small, circular space.
She stood, grabbed the end of the rope ladder, hauled it up from the floor, and tossed it into the room. She thrust her backpack in after it, then took the package containing the 300 Win Mag and placed it carefully just inside the opening.
One more look around, and then she took one last breath of fresh air and entered the room that would be her home for a week. She had to give it to the Professor; everything was as he said it would be.
Chapter Ten
Beaux crept out of the bed and grabbed her clothes from the back of the chair. She didn’t want to be too late for her shift again. Malouf was sleeping soundly, a mass of black hair, the only feature not under the covers.
She slipped her bra and skirt on and reached for her iPhone and the holster that lay on the counter. Next to the iPhone, coins lay scattered on the tabletop. Her attention was drawn to one coin that stood out. It was thicker and wider than the others and had a goldish tint. Beaux picked it up and stared at the image on the front and then turned it over and examined the other side.
She turned it back over and ran her finger across the rough depiction of the man on the face of the coin. Underneath the man’s face, the date on the coin caught her attention. She pursed her lips. “Whattt?” she asked under her breath.
She glanced at Malouf, who hadn’t moved. She examined the coin again, her face twisted in puzzlement and then slipped it into her pocket. She went to the bed and sat on the side of it, undecided as to what to do. She leaned over and gave Malouf a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ve got to go,” she whispered.
Malouf rolled over, his eyes vacant as if he was trying to gather where he was. “Oh, okay,” he said, his voice raspy. He closed his eyes and went instantly back to sleep.
“Okay.” She gave him another kiss and headed to the door. She opened it but paused in the doorway. “I’ll see you later?” she asked.
“Yeah,” the words barely came from his mouth. “And don’t let the droids see you leaving,” he mumbled, groggy as he turned over in bed and away from Beaux.
Beaux tilted her head and stared at the still figure who was already breathing deeply. “Whattt?” she stretched out the question. Her eyes narrowed in confusion. Droids? Her hand gripped the door handle as she stared at Malouf. She shook her head slightly and smiled. He must be dreaming.
She shut the door behind her and hurried down the hall.
◆◆◆
“Yore Momma’s crying in the meatloaf,” Inez drawled as Beaux entered the kitchen. “Again.”
Beaux stopped and looked at her mother, who was slumped in her chair, one hand covering her face.
“What happened?”
“What always happens. Men.”
“Okay, thanks.” Beaux gave a knowing look and went to where her mother sat next to the counter. “Mom, are you okay?” Beaux pushed a container of meatloaf to the side. Maddie turned and put her face on Beaux’s shoulder. Her body heaved as Beaux wrapped an arm around her. “It’s gonna be okay, Mom.”
Maddie stepped back and wiped her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry,” she managed to eke out. “Just a moment and I’ll be okay. I can’t believe I let this happen again.”
Inez stepped in and put an arm around Maddie. Maddie turned to Inez and began to cry again. “I can’t believe he broke up with me,” she sobbed into Inez’s shoulder.
Inez and Beaux again exchanged a look and Beaux nodded, the, ‘I got this’ message clear. “Mom, “I’ll be out in the dining room helping the twins.” Her mom moved her head up and down, her face still buried in Inez’s shoulder.
◆◆◆
Beaux stood next to Bobby studying the sparse crowd. “Where is everyone tonight?”
“Memorial Day,” Bobby said, his head buried in the obituaries. “Everyone’s gone to the beach.”
“I forgot it was Memorial Day. That’s why we’re so slow tonight.”
“Well, I guess when you’re home schooling, you lose track of those things.” Bobby lowered the pa
per. “Can you turn the television up? I think we just got mentioned on the national news.”
Beaux grabbed the remote from the corner of the bar and pointed it at the television. “No one’s here tonight so I guess it’s okay.”
Bobby folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. The President’s face filled the screen and the room became quiet. “The President, along with the Vice President and Speaker of the House, will appear with the Governor in a major rally next Saturday in front of Fondren Hall as he continues his uphill battle for re-election. Governor Patata says that he is humbled that the entire leadership will be here to endorse his campaign. The President is also expected to give a major policy speech about the deteriorating situation on the West Coast. In further news…”
Beaux lowered the volume again. “Ah, shit,” Bobby said. He raised his newspaper again. “The President coming here? I’m surprised he's going to leave the District.”
“Why is that?” Beaux asked.
“He hardly leaves the District anymore. It’s the only place he feels safe.”
“Why?”
Bobby turned in his stool and faced Beaux, his eyes dipped over his reading glasses. “Are you not keeping up with what’s been happening?”
“Like what?”
“I’m surprised,” Bobby mused. “I would have thought you would know everything that’s going on. All you do in your spare time is read.”
“But not about politics. It’s too depressing. Plus, we don’t have a television at home.” Beaux said, stepping back and crossing her arms in a defensive posture. “And between taking care of my mom and the twins, work, and home schooling, it’s hard to keep up.” Beaux motioned to Bobby with her hand. “Besides, I have you to tell me.”
“Well,” Bobby took a sip of his drink and then put it back. “Remember that bomb attempt on his life sometime back? After that, the whole District became basically a no-man’s land. There’s like a perimeter set up around the entire District. You got to have papers to get in or out.” Bobby took another sip of beer. “You do know about the liberals he had put in jail?”
