Black Burlesque

by L. C. Castillo

  When I wake it’s nearly 2 p.m. What am I going to do now, without Bucky, without a shop, without a job? I stifle a sob and I soon hear footsteps rushing over. It’s Jordan and Kazumi. Their tearful expressions send me over the edge again. I cover my face in an effort to stifle my tears. I can’t let it all out. If I do, I don’t think I’ll ever stop. They sit down next to me, rubbing my back, caressing my hair.

  “Vincent called, he told us what happened, Lenore. I’m so sorry. So sorry.” Jordan’s voice is all choked up, it’s almost enough for me to release these trapped tears. I sit up in Vincent’s bed.

  “You can stay with me, Lenore. For however long you need. I can find you some work, too. Whatever you need.” Kazumi strokes my leg; her touch helps to keep the chill away.

  I shake my head stubbornly. No.

  “I can’t. I don’t want anything. I only want my shop back. I want my dog back.” I suck in my breath to keep from crying.

  Vincent peers around the corner of his half wall. The three of us have taken over his bed, and loft, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

  “I have food on the table. You need to eat, Lenore.”

  More like, I need more booze.

  I stare at him blankly, Jordan manages to pull me up and we all walk over to the table.

  The smell of the food does what it always does, stirs my appetite. It smells delicious, but I can’t find the strength to eat. I pour myself a second glass of bourbon and begin to sip. Vincent pours us all a bowl of delicious, hardy looking beef stew. A loaf of crusty bread sits on the table. Kazumi takes my spoon and blows the steam away. She holds it out before me, eyebrows raised, daring me to challenge her. I don’t. I take the spoon from her, and slowly start eating, small bites at a time.

  The stew does help, as does the bourbon. I feel stronger, but I have questions, many questions.

  “Vincent, have the police called? Could they tell you how it happened?”

  He looks up from his stew, swallows and glances at both Jordan and Kazumi. I hear the front door rattle and the sound of a key clicking roughly. The door flies open and Benny strolls in, distracting us. He comes straight to me, grips my shoulders and kisses my cheek.

  “I’m sorry, beautiful girl, are you okay?” he whispers against my ear. I pat his hand, and he moves over to Jordan, who lights up. Benny takes a seat next to him. Vincent tries hard not to react. I can see the strain around his eyes. He takes another bite before answering me. The suspense is killing me.

  “Theyuh, don’t know for certain yet. It’s still too soon to determine anything, but they think it was arson. They found what appears to be a trail of a flammable substance coming from the top of the stairs, all the way down to the kitchen, and out the backdoor. They’re investigating as thoroughly as possible.” He looks me straight in the eye. I can see he’s worried about my reaction. There’s an audible gasp at the table.

  Arson? That has to be a mistake. Who? Why?

  “What? Who would do that to me?”

  “Calm down, Lenore,” Vincent keeps his voice even and calm. “Be thankful you were out of the shop, and that you’re safe. We’ll find out more as soon as the police do.” His voice is soft, and I understand he’s trying to soothe me, comfort me, but I am livid.

  “You want me to calm down? My home, my business, my livelihood and my dog are gone and dead,” my voice cracks with barely contained anguish. “Burned to the ground! I can’t be thankful, and I can’t be calm, Vincent,” I manage with difficulty.

  He stares at me with compassion, his eyes are strained, his jaw clenched tightly. Jordan rubs my back and scowls at Vincent.

  “Vincent is right, Lenore. You have every right to be angry, but it isn’t going to help you. I, for one, am extremely grateful you were out of the shop. I’m sorry about Bucky, Lenore, but I’m thankful you’re safe.” We all look to our normally silent, Kazumi.

  I exhale deeply. Her words do the trick. They kindle my cold heart and bring me back to earth. I should be thankful…but I’m heartbroken that I couldn’t save Bucky. Who the fuck would do this to me?

  “I know...I’m sorry. It’sjust allI don’t know. It’s beyond a shock. I don’t understand how this happened, or who would want to do this to me.”

  I push my bowl away. I can’t eat anymore. I rub my brows in frustration.

  “Does Maggie know?” I glance around the room, waiting for someone to answer me.

  Jordan nods, his eyes downcast.

  “Well, is she ok? Was she upset?”

  “Yes, she was very upset. But, like us, she’s glad you’re okay. She asked you to call her, when you can.”

  I nod sullenly. Yes, I’ll have to do that. I’m not sure if we had insurance. I think we did, we must have. Though I’m not sure how any of that works. Maggie took care of all of the paperwork.

  “One step at a time, Lenore,” Vincent whispers to me across the table. He can no doubt sense the wheels turning in my mind. I nod despondently. He reaches out to me across the table, and I place my hand in his. He clasps my hand tightly. And for a moment, we’re the only two people at the table. His eyes are my solace.

  Jordan clears his throat, breaking the spell. I blink and glance around the room.

  “The police, they want to ask you a few questions, Lenore. I told them we’d drive down to the station, tomorrow,” Vincent continues in a subdued tone.

  Adrenaline spikes through me. I don’t want to speak with the police. What type of questions will they ask?

  “I’m going with you, Lenore. Don’t worry,” he adds, no doubt sensing my anxiety.

  I don’t know how he always manages to read my thoughts, but for once, I’m not disturbed by it. I manage to relax a bit, hearing his offer to be there, and support me. I need him there, but I wouldn’t have wanted to ask. His calm controlling demeanor will be helpful during questioning. Not to mention, he cuts quite an intimidating figure. I just hope they don’t ask me any questions that I won’t want to answer in front of Vincent; things about my past. But why would they?

  Jordan, Kazumi and Benny all linger. Vincent has put on some music for us, and soon enough they’re conversing like normal. My mind drifts in many directions. I’m glad everyone is here. They’re a good distraction, but my mind is reeling. Bucky. Arson. Where will I live? What will I do? Did my poor Bucky suffer? I don’t have any money or a source of income.

  “So, Kazumi, any word on the club? What happened?” Jordan asks.

  I look at Vincent but his expression remains the same, he gives nothing away. Kazumi glances at me, and then at Vincent. What does she know? Vincent’s eyes tighten imperceptibly.

  “Nothing. The police know nothing. All the security footage has disappeared. So nobody really knows what happened. Security will be tight from now on.”

  When did my life become so action packed? I completely forgot about the shooting at the club.

  “That’s insane. A random psycho shooting at a nice club like The Speak Easy; it makes no sense. There are way too many weirdo’s out in this world,” Jordan murmurs.

  I’m not sure why, but Kazumi looks uncomfortable. She stands a moment later.

  “I’m ready to go guys, we should let Lenore rest.”

  Jordan and Benny follow after her, lost in their own world, laughing quietly on their way to the door, enjoying a private joke. They’re fun to watch, I especially like seeing Jordan this happy. Vincent looks a little uneasy as he walks them out.

  He opens the door and kisses Kazumi on the cheek, nods coolly to Jordan, and then he reaches out and shakes his brothers hand. Benny pauses, unsure. Vincent grins and pulls him in, crushing his brother to his chest for a second, before pushing him off and out the door, a second later. Benny smiles widely at his brother; his relief is visible. I wave at them just before the door closes.

  I turn to Vincent and give him a thumb up. He grabs my hand and pulls me to him, kissing my hand and then my face. His palm rests against my cheek. He looksinto my eyes, searchingfor what? I
don’t know.

  “I’ll be with you, through all of this. You won’t have to go through this alone, Lenore. I promise. I’ve already called a friend; he’s a detective, I asked him to poke around. We’ll get to the bottom of this, trust me.”

  Detective friend?

  Well, that sounds reassuring. I nod, and then kiss him. His lips part and I moan into his mouth. I’m so grateful to him. I’m grateful that he called my friends, that he tried to run into my shop to get Bucky, that he spoke with the police, and thankful that he is calling in favors from his friends.

  My life is being turned upside down, but for some reason, Vincent’s presence makes me feel strong, and everything seems more manageable because of him. I feel the cold around my heart slowly defrosting as I gaze into my stranger’s eyes, he has grown more familiar to me than I ever could have imagined in such a short span of time.

  We sit on the couch; Vincent’s arm is wrapped around my shoulders, our feet resting on the coffee table.

  “I have no clothes, no makeup, nothing. Not even clean underwear,” I protest pathetically.

  “I can help you with that, Lenore,” Vincent says, reaching out to cradle my hand.

  I ignore him. No way. We’re not going there. He is not buying me clothes. No, I don’t want him to buy me anything. Tears fill my eyes.

  “Years! Years of collecting and it’s all gone! All ofmy beautiful vintage clothesand worst of all, my Bucky! It just doesn’t feel real. It can’t be real.” I rest my face in my hands and sigh heavily.

  I think about calling Kazumi, asking to borrow her clothes, but she is more petite than I am. She’s all legs, and no curves. I doubt I would be able to squeeze my butt into anything she has. I’m slender, but curvier than she is.

  I don’t know whom else I can ask. Unless I call Maggie, and start dressing like an old woman; I could get a few dozen cats and move in with her, too.

  I sigh deeply. My heart is broken over my Bucky. And Maggie…she worked so hard to give me that shop, it was everything to me, to both of us. The money she used to purchase the shop, that was the money her husband left her when he died. And now, she has nothing to show for it.

  “I’m homeless, Vincent. Just like that, everything is gone.”

  He pulls me into him.

  “No. Not everything, you still have your family, your friends...me. And you’ll never be homeless, not so long as I’m around.”

  I look up at him, appalled at what I know he is about to say. He’s insane if he thinks I’m going to stay here. We’ve only known each other a few weeks! I shake my head profusely. No. He’s already helped me more than he should. I can’t and won’t accept anything more from him. Besides, I don’t want us to head in this direction. Not yet. He grabs my chin firmly in his hands.

  “I need to make sure that you are safe, Lenore. Who, other than me, is going to be able to do that? Keep you safe? I want you here. I’ll keep you with me, until we figure all of this out. And we will figure it all out. Let me help you.”

  We?

  For the millionth time today, tears sting my eyes. I can feel his sincerity. He’s right, who else can help me through this? I have no way to take care of myself right now. And, though I hate to admit it, I don’t want to be anywhere else. Which is extremely disturbing. I don’t know what to say, or think...or feel. I need time to think about this.

  “How old are you?”

  He scoffs, “That’s an unexpected question.” He looks at me quizzically before answering. “I’m 29.”

  Oh. He’s older than I thought.

  “What does the J stand for in V.J.R.?”

  “Jude.”

  Vincent Jude Reynier is 29.

  “Why did you become interested in your grandfather’s business when you were just settling into your career in music?”

  “Lot’s of questions suddenly,” he smiles a shy smile, and furrows his brows. His expression is absolutely adorable. I know he’s probably thrown by my sudden change in direction, but I think he’s amused, too.

  “Um...I finished at Oxford younger than most. I was only twenty-one and I didn’t like that my life was about to become so serious so soon. I didn’t want to be like my grandfather, especially not after the way he washe was drinking a lot and saying strange things about our family. So...I took off. I moved away and went to school for music and thought, that was going to be it. I interned and was an apprentice conductor and orchestra manager. I was really happy with the direction things were going.

  “But I made the mistake of coming back home for a while. My grandfather was having some issues; someone he’d done business with...he felt he’d been swindled. There were some issues. Things were not quite where he wanted to leave them when he was counting down his last days. He asked me to help him. He said he couldn’t trust anyone else. I thought it would be temporary and then I’d go back to work, back to doing what I loved. Butit was more complicated than I thought. And for a while after he died, I thought…maybe I should continue his legacy. I felt like I owed it to him, and to my family.”

  He looks down and then back up at me, his dark lashes framing his lovely eyes.

  “I settled things for him; I set things right.” He pauses; his eyes take on a faraway, dreamy look.

  “Anyway, work keptmy mind off of thingsfor a while, at least. The days are long and hectic. It doesn’t sound glamorous, or interesting, I know, but I learned a lotabout business, my grandfather and even myself. I might even miss it.”

  “Miss it? Then why are you giving it up?”

  “It’s…just time, time for me to create my own legacy. I need to do what I love, not just what I’m good at or what my family expects. My grandfather’s work, it was all he had. It took over every facet of his life. It was what he thought about, spoke about, and dreamed about. It’s what made his world go round. Money. Power.” He shakes his head in dismay.

  “Everyone was always encouraging me to do something with the family business. ‘Vincent you’re intelligent, and business savvy, you’re so good at this, you can be more.’ But I’m passionate, too. I have no desire to conquer the world; I want to do something I love, that’s good for my soul. I want to surround my life with music again. I don’t want a job that fills my bank account. I want a job that fills me with…happiness. At the end of the day, my grandfather wasn’t satisfied; I wasn’t satisfied. When I was in San Francisco, I actually was. I had everything I wanted.”

  I study his face as he speaks. I can see the turmoil; I can see what a difficult decision it is for him to follow his own path. I’m sure he feels as though he is failing his grandfather, and his family.

  “The case I was helping with,whenthe man under investigation killed himself,” his eyes grow darker, “it became clear. I need to get back to what I was aiming to do in the first place. To break away from my family’s idea of what my life should be like. It’s too competitive. It makes you dark, and ugly. That man was proof of that. He, at one point, was a business associate of my grandfathers. He went down a dark and scary path and now he’s gone. I want to live simply, and do what makes me happy. Be with people who make me happy, and not just people who will elevate my family’s status.”

  He pauses and peers down at me, a slight blush spreads across his cheeks.

  “I’m sorry. I’m ranting. You don’t want to listen to all of that.” He’s embarrassed.

  But it’s a revelation to know how he feels, to know he has ambition, to know he wants to follow his heart and break away from his family’s stifling wealth. He’s normally so strong and silent; I’m glad he’s determined to chart his own path.

  I have so many more questions, like why did his grandfather leave him millions of dollars? Why choose only Vincent to have control over all of his family’s businesses and properties and whatever the hell else they have going on? But Vincent doesn’t know that I know, and for now I’ll keep it that way. It is gnawing at me, though. What are his plans? What is going on with his family?


  I smile a small and wistful smile.

  “You’re not ranting, Vincent. And I do want to know, that’s why I asked.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. I know what he’s thinking, just the other night at dinner I told him I want to know absolutely nothing about him. But that was before; when I thought he was with Charlene. I’ve changed my mind since then. Especially after our magical morning…before, before my shop…

  “Anyway, I’ve saved enough,” he continues, breaking my chain of thought. “Tomorrow, after we speak with the investigator, I have an appointment with a realtor to look at a fewhomesin Uptown. I meant to tell you before. I’ve narrowed it down to three choices.”

  My eyes light up. House hunting! How exciting that must be for him!

  “I know it’s bad timing, but I want you to come with me,” he adds with a sly smile. “It might be a good distraction, anyway.”

  I bite back a smile. The only reason I am acquiescing is because I love houses. The older the better! I love to look inside of them, imagine who lived there before, what their lives were like. He’s right; it will be a good distraction for me.

  “I’ll probably rent this place out...I’m not sure.” He shrugs. “Anyway, I have a few errands to run, you should rest and eat. Will you be alright by yourself for a few hours?”

  “Yes, actually. I’m getting hungry, and I could use a few moments to myself. I need to call Maggie, too.”

  “Alright.” He nods in understanding, “I won’t be too long. I’ll bring home some coffee afterwards, would you like me to put a movie on for you?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Vincent grabs his wallet and keys, locks a drawer in his desk, and puts a DVD into the projector for me. I’ve never watched a movie like this, it’s surprisingly clear. I snuggle up on the couch with a blanket and another bowl of stew. Vincent kisses me on the lips.

  “I really like having you here,” he says quickly, and walks out before I can respond.

  His words warm my heart, but at the same time I feel a spark terror. I don’t know that I should be so comfortable with him taking care of me like this, but at the same time, I don’t want to be alone. My friends all have such busy lives, I’d feel as though I were interfering, or getting in their way. And Maggie…well, if I stayed with her, I think I’d go crazy!