The Incident Under the Overpass

by Anne McClane

  Jimmy took the reins before Lacey could ask anything about it. He put his hand on Trevor’s shoulder and said, “Don’t mess around with my sister. She’s fragile.”

  “Oh, right,” Trevor answered in a thick accent. “The poor widow Campo.”

  Lacey snapped to attention. She sensed she was about to be the butt of an inside joke. Old family war games. Her window was closing fast to jump in and turn it around.

  “It’s not Campo. It’s Becnel,” she said. A bit weak, she thought.

  “The widow Becnel sounds like it could be one of the ghosts at the Myrtles Plantation,” Jimmy said.

  “Nah, go further south,” Lacey replied. “Somewhere with more Cajuns.”

  “I still have yet to hear a real Cajun accent,” Trevor jumped in. “All I know is that people down here seem to have a harder time understanding me than in California, or up on the East Coast. I don’t get that.”

  “People don’t leave southern Louisiana,” Jimmy said, “and people don’t move here. They don’t get your accent because they don’t have the diversity you get on the East or West Coast.”

  “Hold the phone, Chump!” Lacey said.

  “Who talks like that?” Jimmy replied.

  She moved right past the put-down. “Excuse me, but you’ve been away from here for a really long time. A lot has changed. There has been such an influx of new blood since Katrina. You can’t make that blanket statement about here anymore.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “But the character of the people you encounter here hasn’t changed. The ones who grew up here. They’re gonna make a big deal over an Irish accent, more than they would other places.”

  “Maybe,” Lacey replied. “But if that’s the case, I hope that never changes. At least you know where you stand—it’s better than someone listening to you, not understanding a word, and pretending that they do.”

  “Let’s talk more about me and my accent,” Trevor said as he grabbed Lacey’s hand and pulled her down onto the bench, sitting right next to her, a little too close.

  Jimmy checked the time on his phone and eased into his recliner. Lacey shot her brother a pleading look.

  “He’s harmless, Budgie. Like a puppy. Give him a quick pop on the nose if he gets too close.”

  Lacey angled toward Trevor and gave him a short snap on the nose with three fingers.

  “Ow!” he said as he shifted, only slightly, away from her. “I hope that doesn’t leave a mark; that will look terrible on stage.”

  “What a baby,” Lacey chided. “That wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark.”

  “Can we try again?” he said with a twinkle.

  “Where did you find this guy?” Lacey asked her brother.

  “Wandering the rolling green hills outside of Dublin. Naked. With a harp,” Jimmy replied.

  Lacey felt a pang at the naked crack. She tried to cover. “Was there a pot of gold nearby? And perhaps a rainbow?” she asked.

  Trevor interjected. “That’s not how it went at all. I was introduced to the band by me agent, Darby O’Gill. It was all very businesslike, and we sealed the deal with pints of Guinness.”

  “He must be good. I can’t see Dave putting up with this foolishness otherwise,” Lacey said.

  She had known Dave Guidry for half her life. She could honestly say she’d never heard the man speak more than twenty words to her at any one time.

  “Dave? No, Dave loves me,” Trevor replied. “It’s Paco who can’t stand me.”

  “Paco? Paco’s a teddy bear! You must be a real asshole,” Lacey said.

  Lacey had only met Paco Nocente, the drummer, a handful of times, but he still felt like another brother to her.

  “Where is he, anyway?” she asked. “I want to say hi before y’all start.”

  “Not here,” Jimmy answered. “Went out for a walk. He’s trying to quit smoking, winds up walking for hours sometimes instead. He’ll walk straight to the set.”

  “You see?” Trevor said. “I’m no asshole. He doesn’t like me because he’s trying to break his nicotine addiction.”

  “He’s right,” Jimmy continued. “Paco kinda doesn’t like anybody right now.”

  “I don’t believe it. All the same, I could see how Lucky Charms here would grate on the nerves of a Zen master. Much less a poor soul trying to quit cigarettes,” Lacey said.

  “Just wait ’til you get to know me. My lucky charms might surprise you,” Trevor said as he winked at Lacey.

  Lacey lifted her hand to give him another pop in the nose, but he grabbed it instead and gave it a swift kiss.

  “James, is it time?” Trevor asked.

  “Yeah,” Jimmy said, rising from the recliner. “Lacey, you’ll probably want to stay here. Wait for Helga to get back and she’ll walk over with you.”

  “I don’t need an escort,” she said.

  “Trust your big brother. It’ll be less hassle.”

  Lacey formed her fingers into the shape of a W aimed at her brother.

  “How old are you?” Jimmy asked.

  “It’s just a number, Chump,” she said.

  She gave him a little wave as he and Lucky Trevor Toomey exited the bus. She crossed over and looked through the window. She wondered where Dave Guidry was, but only for a moment. She knew he must already be at the set. His tendency to obsess over the details of stage, sound, and lights had saved her brother on more occasions than she could count.

  The crowd had grown in the last twenty minutes. Trevor clicked his heels in his last step off the bus, an oddly graceful movement.

  Helga and another black-garbed security guy stood several paces behind Trevor and Jimmy as they shook a few hands and signed a handful of autographs. Trevor kissed one young girl on the cheek. Lacey imagined that girl would not wash her face for a week.

  Lacey calculated when she’d be able to talk to her brother alone. Another three hours, at least. Shit.

  As they sauntered out of sight, Lacey thought about magnetism. Her brother had always had it, and this newly discovered Irishman had it in spades. The Dakota Kid had it too. Was that their mutant power?

  25

  Jimmy had been right, of course. Lacey did as she was instructed and waited for Helga before walking over to the Publiq House. An attempt at polite conversation yielded Helga’s point of origin—Nebraska—but nothing more. They were interrupted by the approach of a pack of intrepid teenagers.

  The boldest one, a solid-looking girl—too old for the pigtails she wore—came within inches of Lacey and asked, “Are you Jimmy’s sister?”

  There was no threat in the girl’s words, but Lacey was glad Helga was there just the same. She placed a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder and moved her outside Lacey’s boundary.

  Pigtails took it in stride, her anticipation unabated. She was ready to prove that she had correctly inferred Lacey’s relation to the band, knew all there was to know, and was, indeed, LeViticum’s biggest fan.

  With Helga’s implicit blessing, Lacey responded to Pigtails that she was Jimmy’s sister. When Pigtails and two of her companions asked for her autograph, Lacey again looked to Helga.

  Helga looked amused and shrugged. She had not spoken since “Nebraska.”

  She signed “Lacey B” on the only blank space left on a T-shirt full of autographs, and again on the back of a picture of the band. She was proud of her attempt to make her name sound hip.

  Helga helped Lacey navigate the rest of the crowd, and led her inside through a backstage entrance.

  “Do you need anything further from me, Lacey?” Helga asked.

  Lacey saw Dave Guidry fiddling with a soundboard. Pay attention, a voice in her head said. She looked over at Helga, and realized she surely had one thousand better things to do than wait for her reply.

  “Oh, no, Hel…Amy, thank you very much for your help. I’m good from here,” she said.

  “Ten-four,” Helga replied, and disappeared into the recesses of the building.

  Lacey eyed the bar at the e
nd of a long passageway. As she made her way through, she called out to Dave Guidry.

  “Hey, Dave.”

  He looked up, his pointy face registering annoyance, then recognition.

  “Hey, Lacey,” he answered with a nod of his narrow head, and then returned his attention to the soundboard.

  Eighteen more words and he’s at the record, Lacey thought.

  Lacey found a spot at the middle of the bar, which afforded a decent view of the stage. Her mutant powers must have magically opened up a seat for her, because the place looked like it was at capacity.

  “How’s the talent?” Lacey heard a familiar voice in her ear, from behind. She whipped her head around and saw Angele.

  “Lee! Did you finish up earlier than expected?” Lacey made a conscious effort to smile and inject warmth into her voice.

  “Yeah, just about everyone left today,” Angele said. She had to shout to be heard. “I need to stay on a few days to wrap some things up, but my sixteen-hour days are behind me.”

  “Great!” Lacey said. “I’m glad you’re here. Jimmy will be happy too.”

  Angele didn’t respond. Her eyes scanned the room and she said, “The short, fat guy ratio is too high in New Orleans. I hate that.”

  “Wow!” Lacey said. “Harsh. So harsh. What if those short, fat guys have hearts of gold?”

  “Who’s to say tall, attractive men don’t have hearts of gold too?” Angele replied.

  “I guess California’s a better place to find that out,” Lacey said. “I’d imagine the ratio is better there.”

  “Definitely fewer fat guys,” Angele said.

  “Oh! Speaking of attractive and tall, I met Trevor Toomey. He’s kinda dreamy.”

  “Yeah, I’ve met him,” Angele said. “You know I don’t mix with musicians.”

  “Maybe I’ll add him to my list, then,” Lacey said.

  Angele shot her a look full of daggers.

  Whoops, Lacey thought. Maybe that was too soon after the Dakota Kid fiasco. She was relieved when they were both distracted by a tall guy down the bar. Lacey looked at Angele.

  “Yep, I’ve got it. Waiting for a turnaround,” Angele said. “He could be a two-face.”

  Lacey wondered how Angele was able to keep her eye on anything. Standing, her vantage point came barely a foot over the bar.

  Megadeth’s “Train of Consequences” started to play when the tall man finally made his turn. Lacey caught his profile and the blood rushed out of her head, settling somewhere below her stomach. “Oh shit,” she said.

  “What?” Angele still seemed annoyed with her.

  “Lee, that’s Nathan,” Lacey said. “That’s Dinner Jacket,” she added when Angele didn’t immediately register his name.

  “Jesus. He looks like someone’s dad,” Angele said.

  The space next to him had cleared, and they were both afforded a better look. He was dressed older than he should have been for the venue, a T-shirt tucked into a pair of shorts, neatly belted. With loafers. It was a look that would have worked for brunch.

  “Well, he is someone’s dad,” Lacey said. “Poor guy. Good thing he’s big enough to defend himself.” Lacey swore internally. Why did she feel sympathy for him?

  “Still, if you look at just the T-shirt and face, not bad. Doesn’t look as old as you said he was,” Angele said. Her annoyance had dissipated.

  “What the hell is he doing here?” Lacey asked.

  “Does he know your connection to the band?”

  “No. I’ve never told him about Jimmy.”

  “Maybe he’s a fan, then.” Angele glanced at Lacey and shrugged.

  Before Lacey knew what was happening, Angele turned toward Nathan and closed the distance as best she could.

  “Hey, Nate! Nathan!” Angele shouted.

  Lacey hid her face with her hands. “Jesus! Please stop.”

  “You’ll thank me later,” Angele said.

  “Highly doubtful.”

  Nathan looked a little confused but not displeased when he glanced at Angele. He didn’t know her, but didn’t seem to mind being called out by a pretty female. Angele gestured for him to join her. He paid for his drink and pardoned himself through the crowd.

  He only noticed Lacey when he was inches from her.

  “Hey, Nathan,” she said with a slight lift of her head.

  “Lacey!” His expression was somewhere between panic and joy. He went in for a hug, but the crowd was too thick to allow for it, so he put his hand on her shoulder instead. He looked over at Angele.

  “Nathan, this is my good friend Angele Lee,” Lacey said.

  Angele wore her innocent face. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Really?” Nathan said. His panic dissipated and he raised an eyebrow at Lacey.

  “Sorry,” Lacey said. “It was her idea to call you over here.”

  He looked at Angele. “I’m glad you did. Nice to meet you too.”

  “So, Nathan, what are you doing here?” Lacey blurted out.

  “I’ve been here,” he said, now relaxed and confident. “What are you doing here?”

  “You’ve been here?”

  “Yeah. I was here for Cat Ballou’s set earlier. I’m without family for a few days, so decided to stay out and see what LeViticum is all about.”

  “Huh,” Lacey said. “Will you excuse me for a second?” She hustled off in the direction of the bathroom.

  “You’ll have to forgive her,” Angele said to Nathan. “She doesn’t get out much.”

  “So she says.”

  “So you’re without family?” Angele asked.

  “Yeah, they’re in Destin. I’ll be joining them in a few days, our annual summer vacation,” he said.

  “Why aren’t you with them?” she asked, never one to tiptoe around anything.

  “Oh, you know. The place opened up early, so my wife decided to extend the trip on the front end. I couldn’t get off work,” he said unconvincingly.

  “Huh. That sucks,” Angele said. “How was Cat Ballou?”

  Nathan’s demeanor changed instantly.

  “Phenomenal,” he said. “I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about her straying toward rock, but she blew my mind.”

  “I’m sorry I missed it,” Angele lied. “Sounds like you’re a follower.”

  Lacey reappeared, head and shoulders hovering right above Angele’s shoulder.

  “She’s my ex-girlfriend,” Nathan said. He looked at Lacey for a reaction. She was stone-faced.

  Angele, eyes forward and surveying the crowd, replied, “That sounds like a story!”

  “Sounds like I’m trying to make myself more relevant than I really am,” Nathan said, his mood notching down again. “She was my high-school girlfriend. We used to play in a band together.”

  “Well that’s kind of cool,” Angele said, more disinterested by the second. “To have that kind of history with someone who’s become famous.”

  Lacey grinned. There wasn’t one shred of sarcasm detectable in Angele’s voice, but she knew the response was loaded with it.

  Lacey angled in to regain her seat at the bar. “Sorry, hot flash,” she said. The look on Nathan’s face made her wish she’d said anything but that as an excuse.

  “You’re too young for hot flashes,” Angele said.

  “Well, I’m better now,” Lacey said, trying to play it all off.

  “Now it’s my turn to run off,” Angele said, looking toward the far end of the bar. “I see a line on my next gig. Ping me later.” She said a perfunctory goodbye to Nathan and scurried away.

  “Good luck,” Lacey called after her.

  “What does she do?” Nathan asked.

  Lacey looked at him, realizing she was alone with a family-less Nathan in a crowd of three hundred people. She struggled to keep the composure she had stepped away to regain.

  “She causes trouble, is what she does,” she answered under her breath. “She works in film production,” she sa
id a little louder, putting on her game face. “Her last production is wrapping up right now.”

  “Huh. Maybe that’s work you could do,” he said.

  She tried not to be mad at him for being so interested in her life.

  “You pay attention,” she said. “Yeah, I’m kind of working that angle, hoping something turns up soon. So, why are you without family?”

  “Oh. I was telling your friend, they started our vacation early, I’ll join them in a few days,” he answered without looking at her.

  “Oh,” Lacey said. He did not sound excited.

  “Good thing your friend saw me,” Nathan said, changing the subject. “Now you don’t have to watch the band alone.”

  The chip on Lacey’s shoulder flared up. “Why do you have to be with somebody to listen to a band?” she said. “It’s like a movie, it’s not like you need someone to talk to while it’s going on. Why do people freak out when someone shows up alone anywhere?” She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.

  “Lacey, are you coming to my defense again?” he asked.

  “No!” she said. “No, I mean, it was unintentional if I was. It’s just not that big a deal.”

  “Oh, I think it is,” Nathan said. “I think when you go to a movie or a concert with someone, it’s because you want to share the experience with them. So maybe,” he continued, “there should be more sympathy for people who show up somewhere alone. Because they have no one they want to share it with.” He looked pointedly at Lacey. He was clearly playing.

  She laughed. “Don’t look at me like that! I know you’re not that pathetic.” She went to touch his arm, to emphasize her point, but thought better of it. “Plus, you’re alone by choice. And you know someone in the band. I have no sympathy.”

  “Maybe I called five friends to see if they wanted to join me and had no takers,” Nathan said.

  “You have five friends?” Lacey asked. She meant it as banter.

  Nathan smiled. “No, not really. Maybe once upon a time, but not anymore.”

  “There you go again, being pathetic. I don’t believe a word of it,” Lacey said. She picked up a new line of conversation. “And I only believe Cat Ballou is an ex-girlfriend because it’s too preposterous to believe otherwise.”