“I think this’ll be my second chance to vote,” Griffen said. “I know I voted when I was in college, but I didn’t really pay close attention to any of the candidates.”
“Well, this is my first time, and I’m pretty excited,” Fox Lisa said.
“I don’t know what number this is for me,” Jerome said. “I know that a couple of times it was tough to get into the polls. Some people didn’t make it easy for us.”
“That’s one of the reasons I volunteered for St. Bernard Parish,” Fox Lisa said. “I want to encourage young African-American voters to get involved and cast their ballots. Even if they don’t want to elect Penny, everyone has the right to have their voices heard.”
“Hear, hear,” Jerome said. He reached for the check as the cocktail waitress set down their drinks. “And in support of your efforts, I’ll get this.”
Fox Lisa smiled, dimples showing in her cheeks. “Thanks, Jerome.”
“Don’t forget, I want favors when your candidate’s in office.”
“Hey!” Fox Lisa protested, shoving him playfully.
“What?” Jerome said. “I’m a realist.”
The musicians finished their warm-up. Bad Beth, guitar in hand, stepped up to the microphone and began to sing. Griffen recognized the tune as a classic rock song by Bryan Adams, but the words were all Beth’s own. Her husky voice laid out the lyrics slyly, building up to the punch line at the end of the first verse, which she delivered with her finger stuck in her mouth.
The audience laughed appreciatively. It was prepared to enjoy itself. Most of the patrons sat with anticipatory grins, cheering especially naughty lyrics. Griffen could tell who was an old fan and who had never seen the show by the looks on their faces. A very young couple near the top of the stairs, probably visitors to the city, was openly shocked at first. The boy started to get into it almost right away, but the girl’s face glowed with embarrassment. She stood up and tried to persuade her boyfriend to leave. He pulled her down and put his arm around her. Her shoulders stayed stiff for a while, but the raunchy good humor of the crowd and the fun of the music eventually broke through her reserve. By the end of the first number, she applauded as loudly as the others.
“This is a new song,” Beth said. She took a drink from a tumbler balanced on a stool at her side and toasted someone sitting in the audience. “Inspired by a friend of mine. Hope you like it. If you don’t, too bad. Frigging eavesdroppers.”
She struck up a chord and launched into a rousing song. Griffen listened with growing admiration. He thought of himself as pretty open-minded, but he realized that there was a lot he didn’t know about other people’s sex lives that he probably didn’t want to know. The audience let out bellows of approval at every verse. By the second, they joined in the chorus. When the last guitar lick died away, Beth grinned at them. She and her band stopped to take a drink and retune.
The blonde next to Griffen leaned over and ran her fingers down the side of his neck.
“That sounded like fun,” she purred. “Want to go back to my place and try it?”
“Sorry, honey, he’s busy tonight,” Fox Lisa said, removing the blonde’s hand from Griffen’s shoulder between finger and thumb and dropping it like a wet rag. “I bet there’re some other guys here who would take you up on it.”
“Oh, you could share,” the other woman said.
“No, thanks,” Fox Lisa said. “I don’t think you’re my type.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“I don’t know . . . chlamydia?”
“Ooh,” Jerome said, looking as if he was in pain. “Score one for the foxy redhead.”
The blonde looked like she wanted to throw the remains of her drink at them. Instead, she got up and stalked out. Griffen was glad to see her go.
Beth returned to the microphone with her signature Irish bouzouki in hand, a stringed instrument like an overgrown mandolin. “This is a number from the Old Country, where the winters are frigid but the women aren’t.” She gave the laughing audience a broad wink and swept her fingernails down across the strings.
Griffen enjoyed Beth’s performances in both incarnations. His newfound sensitivity to dragons, gained during the Mardi Gras season, had told him that Beth had dragon blood. Maybe not much, but definitely some. He wondered if she knew it, and he wondered what the other patrons would do if they found out. Probably nothing different; New Orleanians were so easygoing that they might just start asking for dragon music. Whatever that was.
Fox Lisa’s purse started buzzing loudly enough to be heard over the music. She gave an apologetic look to the annoyed people nearby and edged out of the room.
While she was gone, the sozzled blonde made her way back in and sat down between Griffen and Jerome. Politely but firmly, Griffen helped her out of the chair and into her own. She drank the rest of her margarita and signaled for another one.
Fox Lisa returned a couple of minutes later. Griffen held her chair for her.
“I can’t stay,” she whispered. “That was Horsie. She said Penny wants me to come to headquarters to work on a speech with her.”
“At this hour?” Griffen asked.
The redhead made a face. “I told you, Penny doesn’t sleep. She’s always working. I wish I could keep up with her.”
“Are you going?”
Fox Lisa nodded eagerly. “She wants me to help her.”
“She has speechwriters. Professionals. Don’t they write everything for her?”
“I know, but Horsie said she wants my input. She said I had some ideas that she wants to include in her next rally. Isn’t that great?”
“I suppose so,” Griffen said. “Do you want me to go over with you?”
“No, thanks. Stay. I’ll take the bus.” Fox Lisa glanced at the stage. “I hate to leave in the middle of the show. She is so good.” The audience burst into applause. Fox Lisa stood up. “I’d better get out of here.”
Jerome stood up, too. “I’ll drive you over. I’ve got a date in about half an hour.”
“Thanks, Jer,” Fox Lisa said. She leaned over to kiss Griffen. “See you tomorrow. Too bad. I was looking forward to after the show.”
Griffen mustered a leer. It wasn’t too difficult, considering the subject matter of the show. “Come on by later. I’ll be up.”
“I’m counting on it,” Fox Lisa said.
She and Jerome slipped out of the room. Griffen felt reluctant to remain, but he didn’t feel like going back to his apartment just yet. It didn’t make sense to go home alone, when the bawdy good mood of the crowd was so infectious. He decided to take the blonde’s advice and indulge in a frozen margarita.
The drink’s combination of sweet and salty went unusually well with the lyrics of Bad Beth’s songs. Griffen leaned back to enjoy both. The woman next to him kept up her intake of tequila. She really got into the sing-alongs. Griffen was impressed that she knew all the words to “Show Me on the Doll,” a shockingly funny song that had made him blush the first time he heard it. At the end, he applauded hard, offering a few claps to his neighbor for her enthusiastic rendition.
“Thanks, handsome,” she said, leaning close. “Too bad your friends left.”
“Yeah, it is,” Griffen said. He leaned away, putting his drink between them. “They’ll both be sorry to have missed the end.”
“I love a good happy ending,” the blonde said. Her blue eyes were huge, outlined with royal blue liner. She toyed with his drink. She ran her forefinger around the rim, then ostentatiously sucked it off. Griffen turned away to listen to the show.
The blonde was not that easily put off. She shifted closer. Her hand tiptoed onto his thigh and into his lap. Griffen captured her wrist and shoved it away.
“Hey, I’m flattered, but I’m taken.”
“I hate to see you stay lonely.”
“I’m not
lonely,” he said pointedly. “I’m enjoying the show.”
“You could enjoy it more with me, Griffen. We could have such a good time together if you’d just relax.” For a moment, her eyes changed in shape, lengthening and adding sea-blue highlights. It was Penny Dunbar.
Griffen started to stand up, but she grabbed him by the arm.
“Don’t be shocked,” she said. “I can’t go to shows like this as myself. So I don’t. That way I can have a good time, and no one will ever know.” She wrapped his arm in hers and rubbed her breasts against his chest. “Doesn’t the music give you some ideas? Hmm?”
“Plenty, but I’m saving them for Fox Lisa. You know we’re seeing each other.”
“I know.” Her lips brushed against his ear and bit gently. “And another girl, too, I understand. So you’re polyamorous. So am I. I’m sure Fox Lisa won’t mind since she’s already sharing you, and it’s me.”
“I mind!”
Penny smiled lazily. “You like to be the one in charge? I like that. I’ll try anything you want me to.” She snuggled up. Her fingers felt along his belt for the buckle. “I wasn’t happy when you took off yesterday. I wanted to explain.”
“I think I understood what I saw,” Griffen said. He removed her hand from his waistband. She shifted her grip.
“You’re taking the moral high ground with me?” Penny asked, laughing. “How pointless! And how hypocritical, Mr. Gambling Tycoon. Your uncle told you to take good care of me.”
“This is not what he meant.”
“How do you know what he meant? Can’t you just let go and be someone else tonight? Look around you. No one is who they seem. Even Beth is being bad for tonight. This is the greatest city in the world because you can be whoever you really want to, and no one minds. In fact, they encourage it. You really should try it, you know.” She gave him a wicked smile. “You’d probably like it. I’m told I’m very good.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather not. I really care for Fox Lisa.”
The blue eyes turned flint gray.
“You know what happens if you don’t do what I say,” Penny whispered.
“Go ahead,” Griffen said. “I’m tired of your threatening me. Report me. I’ll be an item on the evening news, something out of your law-and-order campaign, then everyone will forget about it. This is New Orleans.”
“Not if I report Fox Lisa, too,” Penny said.
Griffen was horrified. “For what?”
“I think they call it aiding and abetting,” Penny said. Her eyes never left his. A tiny smile played along her lips. Griffen almost trembled with anger. Smoke drifted from his nostrils.
“You’d do that to her? She admires you. She looks up to you!”
“Cute, isn’t it? But she’s a child, and I’m a woman. A fellow dragon. Your equal. Come on. Let’s go back to your place. Fox Lisa never has to know.”
“How much?” Griffen demanded in outrage, raising his voice above the music. Penny’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What?” she asked.
Hastily, Griffen shoved her away and stood up.
“Forget it! I don’t pay for sex!” He sidled out of the row and all but ran toward the stairs. He had to get out of there.
Murmurs followed him, and Griffen was afraid Penny would, too. His fellow music lovers would think they just saw a local “businesswoman” stating her price and overestimating what she was worth to her john. Surprise should keep her in place long enough for him to get away.
Griffen thumped down the stairs and out into the street. Jerome had warned him that dragon females were “kind of wild.” Griffen realized he’d had no idea what that meant until that very moment. Penny really had no limits on going after what she wanted. She was willing to sacrifice anyone and anything to get her way. She was dangerous.
He thought of going back to the Irish pub, to sit among friends, but he needed to work through his outrage in private. He had to stop associating with Penny, and he needed to extract Fox Lisa from her clutches. Who knew what Penny would do to her if she wanted revenge against Griffen for rejecting her?
It was time to call Malcolm and change the terms of their agreement.
Twenty-two
Val hung on to the phone receiver, counting the rings. Six. Seven. Eight. Gris-gris had to answer sometime. She had tried every day, two or three times, as often as Henry would let her. This time she was determined not to let up until she got through. She drummed her fingers on the sitting-room table. It went to voice mail. She hung up and tried again. Five. Six. Click!
“Hello?” Val said.
“Hello?”
“Gris-gris?”
“No.”
“Isn’t this his phone? Who is this? Is he all right?”
“Oh, yeah, he all right,” the voice said. It sounded faintly familiar. “Dis Jean-Claude. Gris-gris cain’t ansa right now. He busy.”
Val ran through the faces she knew of Gris-gris’s employees and friends. She couldn’t place Jean-Claude, but that didn’t mean anything. Her boyfriend knew a lot of people. She would have left a message at his home, but like many people in the Quarter, he had no landline, only a cell phone.
“Well, can you take a message?” Val asked.
“Uh, mebbe. Lemme see if I can find somethin’ t’ write on.”
Suddenly, the connection clicked off. Val found herself listening to dead air. No wonder she hadn’t been able to reach Gris-gris! It sounded like someone had stolen his phone, maybe while he was still in the hospital. The nurses there assured her he was fine when he had been discharged. There was no other reason why she hadn’t been able to get a call through.
Gris-gris wasn’t the only one she hadn’t been able to reach. Griffen had never returned any of her messages. She couldn’t get through to Mai. Her uncle Malcolm wasn’t home. Why couldn’t she reach anyone in New Orleans? Had the whole city moved while she was gone?
A tiny foot kicked her in the midsection. Val patted her belly.
“Nice to know someone is still with me,” she said. “What do you think? Where is your uncle?” Was Griffen mad at her because she had taken off without letting him know? She’d left him detailed messages often since then. How immature to give her the silent treatment. It wasn’t as if they spent every moment together when she was in town. In fact, the two of them had been closer the last year than they had since they were small children. She doubted Griffen would stay mad for long. He had already begun to sound like an overprotective uncle. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was already filling up her apartment with baby toys.
The doctor had been by for a second monthly prenatal checkup. He had given Val high marks for taking care of herself. Her midsection had expanded somewhat, though the rest of her figure remained largely the same. She ran around the estate every morning, about half her normal distance because the baby’s weight threw her off, but she made up the difference by doing lengths in the pool. She took vitamins. She watched her waistline though the food was great. Everyone was really nice. She had little to complain about other than feeling isolated.
“Too bad you’re not much of a conversationalist,” Val said.
“Try me.”
Val jumped out of her chair. Henry had glided in without making a sound. He stood there, his lips pursed, hands folded against the waist of his dark blue jacket.
“Don’t do that!” she said. Her heart slowed to its normal pace. He waved a dismissive hand. As usual, he was impeccably dressed. His velvet blazer and soft, faille trousers made Val feel as though she had slept in a pigpen and woke up during a cotillion. Henry waved an impatient hand.
“Sorry, but you’re late for our meeting. We need to get this accounting done.” He brandished a ledger at her. She groaned. “You said you were an economics major.”
“Second year!” she said. “We had only learned basic accounting and theory
. I’ve never worked on a sophisticated budget before.”
“It’s just balancing numbers,” Henry said. He eyed the small table. “Do you want to work on it here?”
Reluctantly, Val put the phone down. “All right. Let’s do it.”
“Good.” Henry opened the book and shoved it in front of her. “We were going over the first-quarter input and output.”
“Why doesn’t Melinda have this on a computer?” Val said. “There are some really good spreadsheet programs.”
“She does. But computers are vulnerable. Having a set of physical books is a backup that makes sense.”
“Well, why aren’t we doing this on the computer and entering it into the book by hand later?”
“Somatic memory,” Henry said. “If you handle something, you will remember where it is. On a computer, everything is just pixels. You’ll have a relationship with the keyboard, not the data. If you would really like, you can do the data input yourself later.”
“No, thanks,” Val said. She glanced at the intricate brass clock on the green marble console table near the wall. “Mike is picking me up for dinner. I want to have time to change.”
“Then let’s get on with it,” Henry said. He opened the book and pushed it toward her.
“You talk about body memory,” Val said, “but all this is still theoretical to me. What is this for?”
“One of Melinda’s businesses. We thought we would start you off small.”
“What does it do?” Val asked, suddenly curious. At the top of the first page, PREPPRO was stamped in gold.
“Machine-embroidered patches and clothing. Universities are its biggest market.”
“Cool! Have I ever seen any?”
Henry turned to the back of the book, where she saw a three-column printout of three-digit numbers, names, and telephone numbers. “This is the customer list. And, yes,” he added, as if bored with the subject already, “they are also already on computer.”
Robert Asprin's Dragons Run Page 16
