Black Burlesque

by L. C. Castillo

  I think she knows this home speaks for itself.

  When we reach the landing, Vincent and I clasp hands tightly and I grin at him, this is so thrilling! My troubles and woes are momentarily expunged from my thoughts. Vincent was right; this is actually a very nice distraction.

  There is a library at the top of the stairs. A large round opening leads you in. The shelves reach nearly all the way up to the high ceiling. It smells of citrus wood polish and sunshine. I can only imagine how much more beautiful this room will be when the shelves are full of books.

  Immaculate and detailed stain glass windows frame the room from above the shelves. They cause the sunlight pouring in to appear multihued and mystical.

  Plush leather furniture would look perfect in this space. There are three bedrooms of average size up here, nestled to the right of the stairway. I believe three bathrooms overall, too. A Jack and Jill style bathroom connects two of the bedrooms.

  We walk into the fourth upstairs bedroom, and it is obviously the master suite. It has it’s own balcony, and large windows allowing a tremendous amount of light to stream into the room. It has an en-suite bathroom with a creamy-white claw foot tub, and two pedestal sinks. The flooring upstairs is all hardwood. All original. Every doorknob, every window, every single thing in this home is so detailed, intricate, lovely, and so perfect.

  Vincent hasn’t spoken a word. When I turn to look at him, he is watching me intently. His shrewd eyes regard me speculatively. His blue eyes darken as he walks slowly over to me, his hands in the pockets his fitted black slacks, his shoulders slightly stooped. He stops an inch from my face, our eyes locked together; I’m breathless and completely spellbound, by him and the house.

  He tangles his hands into my hair and pulls me into him. My lips part for him, and our tongues gently stroke. I grip his waist as I cling to him. I want him, like always. I can feel his taught abs through his white button up shirt.

  Mrs. Bricks clears her throat, and we pull apart breathlessly. I keep my back to Mrs. Bricks so that she can’t see how flushed I’ve become, how wanton.

  “Mr. Reynier, I’d like to show you the attic. As you know this home was built in 1887....”

  She trails off as Vincent follows her up to the attic. I struggle to catch my breath. I walk into the bathroom and turn on the sink. The water comes out yellow but a few seconds later it becomes clear, and I splash some onto my face.

  I hope Vincent buys this house. It is the most beautiful of all, and even though it is not technically in the historic district, it feels like it is the most rich in history. It’s furthest from all of the shops and restaurants in Uptown, but it’s just a few minutes drive. It’s secluded, hidden away here in the hills; it gives the feeling that it’s all on its own. In another world, and not just a few minutes drive from civilization.

  I float across the room and open up the doors that lead to the balcony. The view from the master suite is marvelous; green hills, trees, and a view that reaches the ocean. I wonder what the family who built this home was like. They must have watched their view and landscape change drastically over time. More buildings, more homes, less and less orange fields, which is what the city of Uptown was famed for many decades ago.

  I close my eyes and try to imagine them, the previous owners, and soon enough I feel like I can hear them. I can hear the sounds of a busy kitchen, the laughter of happy and healthy children. The house feels alive. It feels magical.

  I make my way out of the room and follow Vincent and Mrs. Bricks to the attic. I can hear Mrs. Bricks tell him how the owner passed away recently. This home was in his family for generations. His children and grandchildren were unfortunately not able to keep it. Many of them had moved out of state and there were no volunteers to manage the home or maintain it. What a shame... A home like this, built with so much love and detail. It should be cherished by his children and kept in the family for future generations to come.

  The attic is large, empty and bare, but it has lots of light filtering in. A circular tower sits to the far right; a round window is the centerpiece. I walk over to it and peer out over the city I love. The attic alone is larger than my shop and apartment combined. This house has infinite potential.

  We reluctantly leave the house on the hill. Vincent remains silent, giving nothing away to Mrs. Bricks. But I know he loves the house. This house and its opulent surroundings, they give me a feeling of serenity, a feeling of tranquility. He must feel it too. How could he not?

  Vincent opens the passenger side door for me, and I hesitantly step into the car. I don’t want to leave. As we pull away I turn back to look at the house through the rear window of the Benz. Mrs. Bricks is waving happily from the front porch. I take a mental snap shot. The house is picture perfect.

  We drive silently down the private road.

  “So, what did you think?”

  I exhale. “I loved it, Vincent. It was so beautiful. I’m sorry to leave. I wanted to keep exploring!”

  Vincent smiles a private smile, “I buying it. That’s the one. Any home that can put that look on your face...it’s worth the investment.”

  I gasp, my eyes wide as saucers.

  “You are? Just like that?” I can’t contain me excitement for him.

  “Yes, well, we have to draw up the paperwork and all of that. But I told her I’d take it. I’ve saved up for quite a while, and I have more than enough to restore it. It shouldn’t take much effort seeing as it’s in great shape. Don’t you think?”

  Saved up? Really? Or is he using the money that he inherited? Why does that even matter? He bought it! It’s going to be his!

  “Oh my God, Vincent! Congratulations! It needs a little work, but I bet you could get most of it done yourself.” I can’t contain my glee for him. He’ll be in Uptown! I can visit him in his beautiful Victorian home.

  “Well, I’ll need your help; your vision of course. I’ll be putting your restoration skills to use. I also think I’d like to use furniture that is appropriate for the period the home was built, not everything, but a few key things. I’ll be sending some people out tomorrow. To clean it up, give it a good once over, see what needs repair.”

  “Wow! That fast?”

  “Yes. I want to move in as soon as possible.”

  I clap my hands in delight.

  “Well, since I no longer have a job, I am free to assist you in any way possible,” I smile, and then frown.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Nothing. I was so caught up in the moment; I forgot that I have a lot to figure out for myself. I should call Kazumi. She offered up the room above her ballet studio. I think it’s empty. I really should get myself settled, and soon. That way, I can be one hundred percent available to you, my services will be my payment for all of your help with the investigation. I don’t think I can handle dealing with this alone.” I say with a twist of my mouth. Sadness tinges my heart, and the excitement I just felt evaporates.

  I almost forgot that I am homeless, jobless, and worst of all, dogless. I know I shouldn’t rely on Vincent like this; I shouldn’t impose on him. But I honestly don’t know if Maggie and I can manage this without the commanding presence of a man backing us up. I’m not sure the police will take Maggie and I seriously. It’s important to me that this case be a priority. I don’t want to be put on the backburner.

  And I need to contact Bennet, see if my safe is still in tact. I need the money. Shit. As excited as I am for Vincent, as much as I want to help him, there is a lot of ground for me to cover.

  I look down at my lavender dress. I need to get some clothes. I can’t wear this every day. It’s already creased and looks dingy, and I’ve only been wearing it since yesterday.

  “Lenore. You’re staying with me. I thought we had that settled.”

  “No. We didn’t settle anything,” I scoff. “I know you want to help me, but you can’t. I can’t follow you aroundhave you bend your life around to look after me. There are things I need to do by myself.”
>
  He broods silently for a moment, his mood visibly shifting. His jaw is tense, his eyes, glacial.

  “I already said it’s no trouble. So it’s settled, again. You’re staying with me. Not in some run-down studio apartment where anything can happen. You’re too far away from anyone, if you needed help, no one would hear you. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone. Not until Detective Bennet figure out who is responsible for burning down your shop.”

  He reaches across my lap and grabs my knotted fingers. He offers a reassuring squeeze.

  “Let’s go to my parents for dinner, tell them the news about the house.”

  I shake my head at him, exasperated. I bet he’s never had a care in the world. His family has money, so he’s never known the struggle. He’s so nonchalant about everything. As if the fact that we barely know one another doesn’t matter, as if it’s perfectly normal and fine that I’ll be living with him. This isn’t the end of this conversation, but I’m in no mood to argue.

  That houseI want to continue to let its magic unfurl my anxiety. We drive, hand in hand, accompanied by the sound of Howlin’ Wolf’s voice all the way to his family’s estate.

  Chapter 20

  His family home is even more beautiful during the day. And I’m even more nervous this time around. I’m not looking forward to seeing his mother. Viola, I want to see, but his mother still gives me a queasy feeling. And if what Vincent says is true, she must have called Charlene over the moment I left Viola’s party and set up her ambush. Bitch.

  We walk in through the enormous and immaculate foyer and find his father fast asleep in the living room. Vincent coughs loudly and startles him. I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me as Edmond sits up quickly, and adjusts his hair before getting up to embrace his son. Sleep still mars his face as he pulls me into him and hugs me hard. I’m taken aback by him, is he drunk? It’s only 3 o’clock! He pulls back with his arms on my shoulders, and smiles broadly. I can’t help but return his kind and genuine welcome. He’s so charismatic that it’s easy to forgive the fact that he has whiskey breath so early in the day.

  “Hello, Mr. Reynier,” I murmur, smiling embarrassment.

  “Oh, please, Lenore. Don’t make me feel older than I am. It’s Edmond to you, my dear girl.” He winks at me and picks his glass up from the table beside the couch; he takes a large swallow of the amber liquid within.

  Vincent looks at him with disapproval and takes the glass from him. Conni appears, seemingly out of nowhere, and produces a large glass of water, she hands it forcefully to Edmond. He takes it and smiles fondly at Conni, unashamed by his inebriated state. Conni kisses Vincent on the cheek affectionately. I really like her, and not just because she’s a fellow Cuban, like me, but because she seems to be one of the few normal people in this house.

  “Como estas, hermosa?”

  She reaches over to me and kisses my cheek. I’m not used to so much affection. I blush and return her kind smile.

  “Bien, y tu? Que estas cocinando? Huele bien rico,” I say enthusiastically. She’s cooking something good. I can smell it.

  “Oh, come and see.” She says in her thick accent. It reminds me so much of my mother. My stomach twists, and I follow her to the kitchen and leave Vincent to help sober his father.

  “So what brings you here today my boy?” I hear Edmond ask Vincent.

  As Conni and I walk into the kitchen, I feel as though I am transported back in time. The aromas emanating from the stove are of my childhood; grilled onions, garlic, lemon and pork. She’s making lechon asado, a favorite of mine.

  She takes me over to the oven and opens it up and shows me her delicious and tender pork roast. My mouth literally waters.

  “Ayuda me, comehelp me,” she says gesturing to the marble island in the center of the kitchen. She closes the oven door. Before long, I am mincing garlic alongside her, preparing a mojo sauce to pour over the roast. She’s making a traditional Cuban meal tonight, with fried plantains, white rice with black beans. It’s as if she knew I was coming.

  I don’t even realize that she and I are conversing in full-blown Spanish until she asks me about my mother, and for a reason unknown to me, I tell her everything. I tell her the truth about myself, and about my mother.

  “Por favor, don’t tell, Vincent. He doesn’t know.”

  She nods at me solemnly, and pretends to button her lips. We both laugh and the kitchen door flings open.

  There she is, the dark beauty. I try hard not to respond to her domineering presence. But she is intimidating; I’ll give her that. Her eyes sparkle dangerously as she looks from Conni to me, clearly annoyed that I am in the kitchen with the help. She’s wearing an expensive looking cream-colored cashmere sweater dress. It’s hugs her beautiful figure nicely. Though, it’s something I’d expect to see on someone half her age, she does wear it with confidence. She’s wearing stiletto heels, the same cream color as her dress, putting her at a five-inch advantage. I smile a large, fake smile at her.

  “Hello, Elizabeth.”

  “Hello to you, Lenore. I didn’t know we hired you as a cook, too.” She is dripping disapproval and sarcasm. I continue to smile at her sweetly.

  “Oh, I don’t think you could afford me, Elizabeth.”

  She drops her phony smile.

  “Vincent wants you back out in the family room. Says he has something he’d like to share with us,” her brow arches dangerously. She seems nervous despite her irritation. I bet she thinks we are going to announce our engagement. My lip quirks up, that won’t be happeningever. But it’s nice to watch her squirm.

  “I’ll be right out,” I answer and continue chopping.

  She glares at Conni before storming out.

  I turn to Conni, and roll my eyes playfully, but she looks paralyzed with fear. She grabs my arm, her expression stern and serious.

  “Quidado con esa mujer, esta completamente loca,” she says sternly.

  She advises me to watch out for Elizabeth, says she is completely crazy. For some reason, I don’t think she’s joking. The tightness around her eyes shows she is visibly distressed around Elizabeth and I know it is probably for good reason. I nod and promise her I’ll bear that in mind. Finally, she relaxes and I walk out of the kitchen and into the family room, leaving her chopping at a furious speed.

  Viola sits in an armchair, Edmond is back on the couch, and Elizabeth of course has her arm possessively draped through Vincent’s. He squirms out of her grasp and walks over to me as soon as I make my way into the room.

  Viola gives me a small wave with her slight and speckled hand and I light up inside. Her blue eyes twinkle like stars. I lean over and give her a kiss on the cheek. It’s so unlike me, but reaching out to her feels like second nature. She strokes my cheek affectionately. I like this woman. I aspire to be like her one day. Strong, candid, loving, yet she doesn’t take any shit.

  Vincent grips my hand. “I just wanted to share with you all, before you heard from someone else,” he looks pointedly at his mother, the spy. “I’m buying a house, in Uptown. It’s nestled away in the hills and has a wonderful view. It sits on about two acres. It’s old, and needs work, but I did it! I bought a house and I wanted you all to be the first to know.” He grins at me and I can’t help but match his exuberance for his new home.

  His mother looks outright angry. Viola and Edmond smile excitedly for Vincent.

  “Well good for you, my boy! What will you do with grandpa’s loft?” Edmond slurs out excitedly.

  “I’m not sure yet,” Vincent responds in a subdued tone. He’s looking at his mother.

  “So, you’re finally getting around to spending some of that money I see,” Elizabeth looks outright hostile. Her jaw is tight, her posture stiff; she looks ready to lash out.

  Vincent goes rigid, “No. Actually, I am not,” he says sternly, quieting her with his icy glare. “I saved this money, and I am buying the house myself.”

  She looks irate. I don’t think she believe
s him. Tension crackles between the two of them.

  “Well, why? Why did you buy a house, Vincent? You have a downtown loft in a building you own and manage, and you’re close to the offices. It all sounds perfect for a working bachelor,” she adds sarcastically. She’s fishing, the nosey bitch. And Vincent owns the whole building? Sheesh. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am.

  “Oh, be quiet, Elizabeth. Can’t you be happy for your own son?” Viola snaps at her.

  Elizabeth recoils.

  “I bought a house because I’ve always wanted to. It’s for me. It’s where I’ll live and stay. Because I want to have something of my own, a home I earned and built. And I no longer need to be close to grandfather’s offices.”

  Elizabeth looks as though she’s just been slapped; her cheeks flush bright red. Silent fury is seething out of her. She nods at him and appears contrite, though I know she is anything but.

  “Well, congratulations. Excuse me please, I have a headache.”

  And with that, she walks out of the room. Edmond makes a grab for his glass of liquor and takes a large gulp. He stands and teeters for a moment before embracing Vincent, and if I’m not mistaken, he has tears in his eyes.

  “I’m proud of you, Vincent. I really am. I hope you do make yourself a home. A real home, filled with love...and none of this bullshit,” his voice breaks. Vincent takes the glass from his father, again, and sets it down harshly. He walks him back to the couch, and sits him down. He mumbles something into his father’s ear.

  I feel like an intruder. I really shouldn’t be here. Edmond seems like such a strong man, it’s strange to see that, in reality, he is fragile and cripplingly sensitive. When he’s drinking, anyway.