Black Burlesque

by L. C. Castillo

  I drop to my knees and clutch the box to my chest, and with a tremendous amount of effort, I keep my tears trapped beneath my eyelids. I pull the key from my pocket and unlock my box; my heart is in my throat.

  The first thing I notice is that things have been moved around. I had my papers, pictures and money in a very particular order. I slide the box out of the closet and proceed to lay the contents out on the floor to be sure that everything is accounted for. My money is all bundled up, but I don’t care about that. I check for the photo of my mother, the old photos of Maggie and me. Some documents pertaining to my shop, my birth certificates, my journal and an old hair comb of my mothers.

  I rub my fingers over the faded rubies. It appears to all be here, but I’m certain that someone has opened up my safe. Perhaps it was Detective Bennet? But how could he without my key? I’m sure there are ways. I scowl. Well, at least everything is here.

  I put everything back and slide it into the closet, locking the door carefully behind me. I rush down the stairs and am blocked at the landing by a man in his mid-thirties wearing a hard hat, a tool belt, and a polite smile.

  “Mrs. Reynier, I need your approval on whether or not I should remove the light fixture from the downstairs bath.”

  It feels like my brain has just spun around inside my head. Mrs. Reynier?

  “Uh...er, I’m not Mrs. Reynier. I’m Lenore O’Howell. You’ll have to ask VincentMr. Reynier himself.”

  He furrows his brow, obviously confused. “But, Mr. Reynier says to consult with you. He’s busy. So...?”

  I shake my head in exasperation.

  “Oh, did he?” I look out the front window and see that he is in deep conversation with Gil. “Okay, fine. Lead the way.”

  He smiles broadly, “Great, I’m Joey, by the way.”

  I follow after him dutifully. Turns out the light fixture is in great shape, so I instruct him to give it a good shine and polish and hang it back up again. Needs a little rewiring, too. He asks me ten more questions, leading me into various rooms that I had yet to explore in detail.

  Joey and I exit the master bathroom and Vincent is leaning against the wall, carefully observing me, a ghost of a smile on his face.

  “What?” I ask, feeling shy and caught off guard. His smile is so disarming.

  “Nothing. I just like seeing you so in command. Making decisions. That was good advice by the way. Re-glazing the tub instead of replacing it. I was ready to order a new one because I didn’t think you’d feel comfortable using the old one. Given the shape that it’s in.”

  I blush. “Never mind what I feel comfortable with. It’s your house,” I mutter quickly.

  Now it’s his turn to look embarrassed.

  Joey has made his escape downstairs. I stare at the chipping paint and the yellow spot circling the drain of the claw-foot tub. What should I say now? Does he really think I’ll move in?

  “I ordered some pizza for everyone, are you hungry?”

  Of course I am, as of late, I’m always hungry.

  As we walk out of the master bedroom I see a man coming down the stairs that lead to the attic.

  “Oh! What are they doing to the attic?” I walk forward with a spring in my step, eager to get another glimpse of the spellbinding view the attic offers.

  “No! Stop!”

  I whip around as Vincent tugs my hand back against him.

  “They’re replacing some beams up there. It’s not safe.” His lie comes out smooth, but I see past it. I glance back at the stairs once more.

  “Oh, okay,” I mutter.

  Something in his eyes makes me nervous, but I slap it down. I’m starving and I’m sure it’s probably nothing.

  We make out way into the kitchen and I see that nearly all of the cabinets have been sanded down, and are almost ready to be repainted. I glance around as the crew help themselves to more pizza. I can envision how the kitchen will look when it’s complete. This will be the crowning jewel of this home. I check the paint samples one more time, just to be sure I picked the right stain. I can feel Vincent looking at me, and sure enough when I turn my head, he flashes his private sexy smile my way.

  Dusk settles in and we make our way out along with the rest of the crew and lock up. We’ll be heading back to the loft tonight. As Vincent opens the car door for me and I step inside, my safe comes to mind.

  “Do you think it’s okay to leave my safe here?”

  “I should hope so. Would you feel more comfortable if I brought it home with us?”

  Home. Fuck.

  “No. It’s fine. If you think it’s safe here, then I’m sure it is. By the way, I think someone opened it, moved things around. Do you think the Detective would have done that?”

  Vincent shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

  “I have no idea. But I’ll call him first thing tomorrow and ask him. And I’m sure he’ll tell me he still has no leads,” he snarls. His mood instantly takes a dive and I regret bringing it up.

  “By the way. I think I’ll be having Lurch and Dwayne around more often. I just thought I’d let you know.”

  A chill runs through me.

  “Isn’t that a little over the top? Paranoid even?”

  Has something else happened?! I hope nothing else has happened. I pray he is only being cautious. I do my best to sound unaffected and calm, but the panic is rising inside of me.

  He whips around and his eyes flare angrily.

  “Someone tried to shoot me in a club, and then burned down your shop. So, no, I don’t think I’m being paranoid,” he retorts and starts the car, easing out onto the road.

  I visibly deflate before him. The panic inside of me grows, claws and scratches violently beneath my skin.

  “Do you think...do you think it was the same person? Vincent, is what happened to my shop related to what happened at the club?” I aim for calm and casual, but my voice scratches like nails on a chalkboard.

  Vincent stiffens in his seat as his eyes dart back to the road in front of him; he clears his throat and seems to recover himself.

  “No. But the fact remains that things are a little unpredictable right now, and I’d feel more comfortable with Dwayne and Lurch watching over youus, watching over us. I want them close by, at our disposal. I want you safe.” He takes a deep breath and composes himself. His jaw is firmly set and I watch his knuckles go white as he grips the steering wheel.

  I hear his words, but something about them doesn’t soothe me. I get the feeling that Vincent knows more than he is willing to share, but I’m reluctant to prod him. Something about his tone, and the icy glare in his eyes tells me now is not the time.

  Two weeks fly by without any turbulence. Vincent has kept me extremely busy with the house, choosing furniture, paint, wallpaper, and kitchen appliances. It’s been exhausting, but more fun than I imagined. I’ve even enlisted the help of Jordan and Kazumi on more than one occasion.

  The ever-present shadows of Dwayne and Lurch have even receded to the background, to where I hardly even notice them anymore. Burlesque is back in full effect, too. I’ve been given more prominent roles here and there, but Cat is nearly ready to come back to work. Which sucks, because I don’t want to give up my spot with The Mercuries. Especially since it is my only source of income.

  Security at The Speak Easy has been kicked up several notches but things have been going smoothly and there have been no further incidents of violence.

  I’ve been staying at Vincent’s loft while the crew wraps things up with the House on the Hill. Pretending to do the girlfriend thing while staying up late choosing curtains and beddings and so on.It’s exhausting, but I can’t lieI’m having a very good time doing this for Vincent. And why shouldn’t I do this for him? He’s giving me a place to stay, temporarily, and he’s basically giving me free reign on choosing all of the furniture, fixtures, paint and wallpaper for the house! I’ll never get another opportunity to do this.

  But pretty soon I’m going to have to drop the façade
. He’ll be moving into his new home, and I’ll be moving into the small apartment above Kazumi’s studio. The decision has been made. Besides, Vincent won’t need me around once his house is move in ready, not to mention, he will be starting his new job very soon! We’ll both need our space.

  I need to focus on my business. I’m looking forward to having the time to get that going. Especially since I’ve been itching to dip into my savings.

  There is still no money from the insurance company either. Maggie told me they’re putting up quite a fight and they claim not to cover arson but only accidental fire! She says to leave it to her, and not to worry, but I can’t help but feel I am laying my problems at everyone’s doorstep and casually walking away.

  Chapter 24

  We arrive at Vincent’s parent’s home. Anticipation, mingled with anxiety, is bubbling inside of me. I want to see Conni and Viola, but I am always less than thrilled to see Elizabeth. I don’t think I can stomach another confrontation with her.

  It’s Walter’s birthday today, Vincent’s deceased brother, and although nobody in his family acknowledges this day, he says his father and grandmother tend to fall into depression. We’re here to check on them. So of course, I couldn’t tell Vincent that I didn’t want to come. I want to be here for his family, as they have been for me.

  He opens my car door for me and we step into the chilly air. It’ll be December soon. I can hardly believe it. I wrap my pea coat around me tightly and Vincent drapes his arm around my shoulder and huddles me against him.

  It’s dark when we step inside the house, very dark, literally and figuratively. The curtains are drawn tightly. I can hear the hiss and pop of a fire burning in the living area. We step under the archway that leads into the vast living area. I don’t know that I’ll ever become accustomed to all of this space; I swear this home is palatial.

  I can see Edmond’s feet poking out from beneath a blanket. We’re both quiet as we make our way over to him. I feel the stress and tension coming off of Vincent in waves. I wonderhow must he feel on this day? Not only does he have to contend with his own sadness over the loss of his brother, but he also feels the weight of responsibility to care for his family as well.

  I imagine Edmond is fast asleep but as I make my way over to him, to pull up his flannel blanket, I find that his eyes are wide open and staring into the fire. He has an empty liquor glass next to the couch. Of course he’s been drinking. I frown, as does Vincent.

  “Would you like to go check on my grandmother, Lenore? I’m sure she’s in her bedroom.” I shake my head, for some reason I want to stay with Edmond. He looks so far off and despondent. It pulls at something inside of me. He’s normally so vibrant and cheery. I hate to see him like this. Vincent endeavors to keep the strain from his face, but I can see the pain behind his haunted eyes.

  He has slight stubble on his face, dapper as always, in his wool coat, and black jeans. I can see his flannel tie peeking out, and I reach forward and adjust the knot for him, a gesture to let him know that I will be fine with his father.

  He smiles softly and adjusts his glasses before going up the stairs to his grandmother. I hesitate a moment before taking a seat next to Edmond. He shifts his head slightly and at last acknowledges my presence.

  “Oh, hello, Lenore. You’re looking lovely as always,” he slurs. His words are kind, but they don’t sound right. He sounds detached. Automatic.

  “Hello, Edmond. How are you? Can I get you anything?”

  I place my hand on his shoulder and after a minute of silence, he places his hand over mine and angles his head to face me.

  “You know, Grace...she was my one true love. I love all of my children. Believe me, I truly do. But Walter...” His voice wavers, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.

  “Walter was special. He was my first-born. I learned so much from him. Usually parents teach their children, but Walter taught me. I became a man the first year of his life. I learned what it was to have a family, and to provide, all on my own. He taught me to be strong. He was so incredibly strong; he could have been anything he wantedto be. He” Edmond clears his throat and faces the fire again, his eyes filled to the brim with tears.

  “He was an excellent brother, Vincent worshipped him. We miss him. I miss him, and I miss Grace. If she were here, things would be bearablefor me. If she were here I know Walter would still be here, too.”

  I lean down and kiss his cheek in an effort to offer him my sympathies. I pick his glass up and his eyes fixate once again on the fire.

  “I’ll just go find Conni and see if I can get you something to eat. Would you like some water?”

  He nods sullenly, “Yes, Grace, dear. That sounds nice.”

  Grace? I don’t bother to correct him. He doesn’t sound drunk, I think his mind is somewhere in the past today, and so I let it go. I stand and rub his shoulder before I go search for something for him to eat.

  “I’ll be right back, Edmond,” I whisper.

  As I make my way out of the living area, I see a shadow move past the doorway. Elizabeth steps forward, her eyes burning like fire. She’s hurt, and angry. She must have heard Edmond. And for the first time, I feel sorry for her. And like a malevolent ghost, she wordlessly walks past me, past the foyer and into a dark corner of the house.

  This house is beautiful, but it is haunted by sadness.

  My thoughts brighten a little bit as I push the door open and enter the enormous, state-of-the-art kitchen.

  “Hola, mi hermosa. Aqui estoy,” Conni smiles up at me with her large chocolate eyes and I can’t but return her warmth. She air kisses both of my cheeks. I wonder how she has been able to work here for so many years. How can she stand all of this grief? How can she stand Elizabeth?

  What this family has suffered through, I know all to well. I lost my little brother, and my mother shortly after. Well, technically, I lost my mother far before she actually died. She succumbed to madness and depression and wasn’t herself for the last year of her life.

  Conni leads me to the center island of the kitchen and I sit on a stool and begin chopping the herbs she’s placed before me. She keeps the kitchen well stocked and in pristine form. I see she has a candle lit, and there is a small photograph next to it. She has the lights above the island on a dimmer, and they’re so low it’s a wonder she can see at all. I reach forward and take the small bronze frame in my hands.

  I can see the resemblance between the boy in the photograph and Edmond. He is tall, with thick broad shoulders, and an amazingly handsome face. Though the photo is faded, I can see that Walter had brilliant blue eyes like Vincent. His hair was a bit darker, and less wavy, but he was absolutely beautiful. He has a soft smile on his lips, but sadness around his eyes. I briefly wonder what his mother was like...

  “That boy,” Conni begins with her accent that reminds me so much of my mother, “he was a boy full of light. Like Vincent.” She smiles fondly and winks at me.

  A blush spreads across my cheeks at the mention of Vincent’s name. I place the picture next to the candle again and focus my attention on Conni.

  “He was the light of this house. He kept his father going after the death of his mother. She, too, was a very, very lovely lady. So kind.” Conni gets a far off look; I can see she is remembering something pleasant.

  “She hire me here with no experience, I was just a young girl. I loved to work for her. Cook for her, and take care of Walter for her. She was like the hands of a clock; she keep this family going forward. Edmond...he work hard when she was alive. He livefor her. Before that pfft!” She shakes her head, but has a smile on her face. “He was a lazy, spoil man, or so I hear. Very spoil, like his brother...he pass away too.”

  Oh? That’s news. I didn’t know that Edmond had a brother.

  “Yes, mija, he kill himself. They fight over money all the time. He and his father, Mr. Walter Sr.” She crosses herself, her eyes dart to the ceiling. “He and Edmond fight, too, over who take more co
ntrol after their father die. Always in fighting, always in competition.”

  She shakes her head, like she doesn’t understand how brothers could be rivals. I don’t understand it either.

  “Money is poison in this family. It is.” She resumes her chopping, darkness crossing her face.

  “When baby Walter was born, Edmond he name baby after his father. And Walter Sr. he just love the baby, his first grandson. Baby Walter bring happiness wherever he go. Robert, Mr. Edmond brother, he in love with Grace, too. When she die, Walter Sr. start to pay more attengtion to Edmond. Robert say he favor Edmond over him. Edmond start helping his father a lot more. Hoping that keep him busy, less sad, after Grace die. Walter Sr. give him more of his time. And poor Robert, that was it for him. No Grace. No control over money and business, no baby...he think his father prefer Edmond and he hang himself.”

  I gasp, the knife I was using clatters onto the island as my hands shoot up to cover my mouth. That’s terrible! Two brothers in love with the same woman and their father divided between two sons?! It’s...unreal. It’s like a soap opera. But I do know how money can poison a person.

  Charlene briefly enters my mind. Vincent and his brother shared her…and for a moment, Vincent thought something was going on between Benny and me. I think I understand his paranoia a little better now.

  “It was a dark time. With no Grace, I take care of little Walter. Edmond, after his brother die...he no care about business. He feel he kill his brother because of the way they fight over it. He only care about Walter. But then…” Her eyes heat, and she begins chopping the leeks furiously.

  “Esta mujer entro en esta casa.” That woman came into this house. I know which woman she’s referring to.

  “I can see she was bad. She not care about Walter, or Edmond. She just care about money. She get herself pregnant, with beautiful Vincent so Edmond marry her.” She shakes her head.

  Why on earth is she telling me all of this!? I’m too stunned to speak, or to stop her from speaking. Do I want to hear this? I’ve imagined Vincent living this charmed lifeand nowI don’t know what I think.