by Diane Munier
“Isbe knows.”
“Knows what? How you stole that money? How we’re into shit with Cabhan? She know her old man is behind enemy lines, and you might have to cut off his other ear if he don’t back the hell off?”
“What’s this?” Baboon asked, coming down the hall from the girls’ room. “You know I can hear you monkeys?”
Jules barely spared him a glance. He was riveted on Gorilla. He hated him now.
“Jules?” Bobby said.
Jules pulled his stare from Audie and looked. Bobby had obviously slept in his clothes. He looked like hell, but Jules was used to seeing him that way.
“I’m marrying Isbe. Today.”
“What’s the rush?” Bobby said.
“What is this?” Jules threw up his hands. Where were the congratulations?
“Calm down, Jules,” Bobby said, and it took something before he would say this.
“I’m calm. I thought I had friends…”
“You have friends,” Bobby said, while Audie chimed in, “What’d you expect? You got eight thousand out there yet. That okay with you while you’re…jumping the damn gun? I mean, broom?”
Jules glared at him. Too many words piled up to get said, shouted.
Audie took a big breath and smoothed his hair. “Jules…you move too fast. You know that about yourself. I’ll give you, your instincts—they’re good. They’re—real good. I’ve been known to follow them myself.” He laughed a little, but it was not from glee. “But this—that girl worships the ground, my friend. Worships it. And she’s a great girl—the best. But she’s like—innocent. And Clark Blaise—he knows it. She’s his pigeon—the one thing he got right. He knows it. She’s like a decoy on the water. Anything—Francis says anything comes around he don’t like…” Audie made a gun with his hand and fired.
“Brother, where you gonna get eight thousand? You got no rich daddy, case you forgot. You get side-tracked now…” Audie finished.
“Where’s Jerry?” Jules said, a deep, smashed feeling inside.
“He’s,” Baboon said, “where is he, Audie? He was supposed to be with you.”
“I sent him to the car when Francis…he’s sleeping in the car.”
“He ain’t sleeping,” Jules said.
“He’s already looking for that truck,” Bobby finished.
“Why you think I brought him?” Jules said. There was no other reason. He was the hunting dog.
“What if he does something stupid?”
“He’s no killer,” Jules said.
“What about Seth? He was in the war.”
“Supply or some shit. He’s got a chip and a gun. You know any guy any different?
“He’s got no beef with Jerry—other way. Seth double-crossed the Blakes.”
“Got an answer for everything, don’t you, Jules? Always got an answer,” Audie said with a surprising amount of disgust. “That little girl gets some of the shine out of her eyes, I can’t wait to see how you work your way out of it. Only it’ll be too late. For her. She’s got no idea…”
“You finished?” Jules said. He turned to Bobby then. “Will you stand for me?”
Audie fell back, let his ass hit the wall, and he let his air whoosh out. It seemed another wave of attack was coming. “We just got home. You gonna tell me you can go from the shit we been doin’ to being somebody’s husband?”
“I ain’t asking your permission,” Jules said. “Maybe you’re confused. You feel that way…I don’t need you.”
“Oh, you don’t? That’s what you say? You got people lining up to take a ride on your crazy train—bail your ass out when it goes to hell?”
“You don’t bail me out,” Jules said.
“That’s me,” Bobby said softly, but they ignored him.
“Where’s your shit right now? Who’s right beside you holding your hand, like always?” Audie said.
“Holding my hand? Get ahold of yourself.” Jules went toward his room, but he didn’t want to bring this to Isbe, this anger.
“Jules,” Bobby said. When Jules turned, Audie had gone back into his room. “Let’s see if Jerry found Seth.”
“Nah. You hear me? I’m getting married.”
“On a Sunday? The courthouse won’t be open.”
Shit. He hadn’t thought of that. “You can’t tell me you can’t get married in this town for the right price,” Jules said. He wasn’t letting anything or anyone stop him. Especially Finn.
Jules went downstairs. He didn’t wait for Baboon. He asked the man at the desk about it, where someone could buy a ring, where someone could get married on a Sunday.
Like he thought, all things were possible for those who could pay. The jeweler opened right up for them, Sunday clothes still on. Isbe looked beautiful and the girls fixed up swell. Bobby and him were pieced together in jackets borrowed from the hotel.
The jeweler unlocked the cabinet and laid a flat of silver diamond rings on the counter. “What do you like?” he said.
Isbe leaned over the jewelry, her brow creased. “I can’t see how much they cost,” she said.
“That don’t matter,” Jules said. “Pick what you like.”
Francis and Dorie couldn’t stand it any longer. They flanked Isbe and Jules stepped back a little. What his mates lacked in enthusiasm these two made up for. Even Blondie. She wasn’t doing handstands, but earlier she’d managed to give him a quick hug, and a red kiss. She’d whispered to Jules, “Give him a minute. You scared him is all. He thought you were already married to him.”
That surprised the hell out of Jules. Is this what it was? Gorilla thought they were breaking up?
He actually came close to smiling at Francis as she quickly patted his shoulder and said, “You treat her wrong, I’ll kill you in your sleep. You’ll never see it coming. But I will.”
She’d patted his arm and went off to press Isbe’s dress for her in the hotel’s laundry.
He was with a bunch of crazy people. But he kind of loved Francis for caring so deeply for Isbe.
Baboon hadn’t said much, his usual good nature kicking in. He’d sarcastically thanked Jules for planting their flag in the no man’s land called marriage.
“Do what you want,” Jules said. “I am.”
“I thought I’d get some stuff figured out first. Like a job,” Baboon had said, while Jules straightened his tie.
Jules shrugged. He felt bad about Bobby getting fired for the fight. But Baboon could swing from the trees pretty well. He’d land on his feet. They’d figure it out. Well, not Audie. They might be done, but he knew they weren’t.
By the time they walked to the back door of the courthouse, also being opened special, Audie had caught up to them. Isbe nudged Jules and he stopped and looked at the ape, spiffed up, shoes shined, and he got it then, the hand, the shake, then the big, crushing hug.
Then Gorilla had Isbe off her feet, and she held onto her little hat and had the other hand on his shoulder, and she giggled a little.
“Put her down,” he couldn’t help saying, and Audie did. He’d brought her some white flowers. She took these and sniffed them a little. They made her so happy. Jules felt like a sap to forget she’d want flowers.
“You’ll be a good husband,” Audie said, simple, a couple of tears in his big gorilla eyes.
Jules nodded. He clapped Audie on the shoulder. They stared at each other for a minute. There was nothing more to say. He wasn’t mad anymore. He could see Audie wasn’t either. No sense going over it with tweezers.
They resumed their walk. He took Isbe’s hand and checked for the fifth time that the pale outline of ring was in his jacket’s pocket. He was getting married.
Without his anger at Audie, he felt the first wave of fear. All he had left were the words Audie had spoken—how this was revenge on Clark, how he moved too fast, needed his hand held, had nothing to offer. How sweet Isbe was…
What if…what if she did feel upset over the ear…blamed him somehow? She didn’t need to know about it
. That’s it. They would never, ever tell her. Far as she knew, they knew nothing about Clark’s unfortunate amputation.
He just wished he hadn’t told Clark. Yeah, that was bad. But maybe he’d be so pissed he wouldn’t come around. They’d have to live somewhere else, of course. Maybe she’d never see him again. That would be great.
He tried to feel better, but what did he really know about being a husband? Nothing. Even Baboon seemed to think there was an order. What did he have to offer? Some cash. Some determination.
He looked at her, carrying on with her friends, holding his hand so firmly, with trust.
They were going up the steps to the courthouse when it happened—the lightheaded, sick feeling, and him thinking it would pass, and then it didn’t, and he heard their voices swell—and then he didn’t hear a thing.
The next thing he knew, he was looking up at everybody. What happened?
“You fainted!” Audie shouted, like he’d gone deaf.
“Help me up,” he croaked.
Audie and Bobby pulled him onto his feet, and Gorilla steadied him because he weaved a little.
“You eat lately?” Audie said, but Jules ignored it. He’d never fainted in his life.
Isbe looked all concerned. “Did you hit your head, Jules?”
He didn’t think so. “I’m all right,” he told her.
They made him sit on a short wall that ran around the building. It felt good to sit and get his bearings.
“We don’t have to do this,” Isbe said.
“I have to,” he said back, and not as friendly as he meant.
“Jules,” she whispered. “We can wait.”
“Not me.” He pulled her close. “Hey…you backing out?”
She smiled. “Never.”
“You sure?”
She kissed him on the cheek and spoke near his ear. “Don’t ever doubt me.”
When she pulled back, they looked at one another. This was what he needed. “Let’s get married,” he said.
The judge came in, looked over the papers his daughter had given them to sign.
The girls stood with Isbe; the monkeys stood with him. Bobby gave Audie his spot as best man.
Promises were made. Signed and sealed.
He kissed her and the old relief was back, more powerful than ever. This was right, and he felt like the luckiest guy in the world. The smile on her face, the look in her eyes—he didn’t ever want to forget this shine. Audie’s words were in his mind like a nagging song, that when the shine wore away, it would be too late—for her. But he was wrong. He’d spend the rest of his life giving her everything he was, just like he’d promised that morning. That’s what no one knew. No one could know. But she would. It was settled.
That night they ate, they drank, a little. They laughed, and the music played in this little private club that defied the Sabbath, and he moved with her, and music wrapped them in its promises.
Hope…was reality, juicy as steak, mouthwatering. Dreams…were touchable, smooth and soft. Relief…you could lick, taste it, like honey on your tongue. Words…renewed. Laughter…healed. Joy was what you breathed. Luck was what you’d made.
Was it the same world? The same moon over the trees and the lights strung there against the dark, the same earth soft under his socks, her bare feet, as they danced out back, alone, with the music drifting out the kitchen’s door propped open by the cooks. And they laughed a little, and he held her…while his wounds skinned over, pale and new.
“I love you,” she said languidly. “I can’t stop saying it.” She laughed.
“I like it,” he said, his mouth moving over the light, salty taste on her neck.
Tumble, jumble…and what would come…would be so deliciously different it would keep the world…going.
He knew how to be hard, be tough. The lessons came young—and consistently. The patient breaking of his heart.
The steady disintegration of his pride.
Everything taken, one crumb at a time.
And he’d emerged—this bastard with a rock in his chest. But today, he’d fainted. He’d gotten married. He was dancing in his socks.
He was changing.
He carried her from the lift to their room. The girls had been in here. There were flowers in vases, even on the bed. Fruit in a bowl. A beautiful negligee lying on the bed. “That’s Francis’s,” Isbe whispered as Jules set her down. He didn’t say anything, but Francis wasn’t using it, he could vouch for that.
“You won’t need it,” he said, sitting on the bed and pulling her between his knees.
His hands were already on the blue dress. He was carefully undoing whatever stood in his way.
“This okay?” he said, busy.
“I hope so,” she laughed.
When he couldn’t go fast enough, she took over, and he helped her step out of the dress. He backed off then and took off his jacket, folding it over the chair. She pulled her slip over her head. She stood there in her bra and underwear, a garter belt and nylons. She kicked off her shoes.
“That’s far enough,” he told her, his voice cracking a little. He quickly got down to his skivvies.
“Turn around,” he said, and she did, moving in her sexy way. Yeah, she had those seams in the back, and he wanted to see her like this—God, he’d wanted it from day one. He dropped on his knees and started to kiss, up one seam, down another. She fell forward a little, hands on the dresser, his on her hips in case she continued to fall.
“You okay?” he asked, laughing a little.
She turned to face him. “Never better.”
“You’re beautiful,” he said, taking his hands away and standing. “You drive me outta my mind. Get in that bed.”
She did as he asked, his eyes on her the whole time. He stood at the side of the bed. “You ever see a man before?”
She shook her head, all wide-eyed.
“Well, you’re about to.” He quickly pushed down his skivvies and stepped free. He was already hard, and she was looking, her eyes big. He had to laugh some. “Don’t look so scared. He don’t fire bullets.”
He got in beside her.
She was laughing now, and they got settled together. She had her breasts pressed against him, and he undid the back of her bra, and she lifted, and he slowly pulled it off of her. “Lie on your back,” he said, and she did.
“Oh yeah,” he told her, his eyes all over her. “You’re beautiful.” He couldn’t stop saying this.
He put his hands on her, all over her. He undid those nylons, peeled them down, rubbed over her legs—he loved those, her little feet even.
She stood up and undid the garter belt, let it drop. Then she lowered her underwear and stood, dragging her hand back and forth across her stomach.
He swallowed enough lust to choke an elephant. “Get in here,” he said, patting the bed.
She complied, whispering his name, her eyes big and shining in the soft light of evening coming in—this one, his heart, and soul, and his eyes had never feasted on something so completely captivating.
She lay back, and he told her he loved her and he’d never been in love before.
“Is it like this for you—so strong, you can hardly hold it?” she asked him.
“Yes,” he said, shaky. “It’s what took me down outside the courthouse.”
“Love?”
“Yeah,” he said, kissing her softly.
Later, when he could breathe, he said, “You okay?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice young and thin, her hands gripping his shoulders.
“I love you,” he said, maybe five or six times. He couldn’t stop, until the world went up in flames, and then he couldn’t move as he released into her—fire, baby. Fire.
“Oh shit,” he said, now his voice thin, and a minute passed; they were fireflies again, floating in the silence, enraptured. “Oh shit.”
After a minute, he collapsed beside her, sweaty and breathing hard.
She was there for the kissing. “I love you
,” she said. “It didn’t hurt. Did it feel good?”
“Oh baby,” he was huffing, “oh yeah.”
He had not really known before this. One desperate time—that French girl against a tree. A few drunk encounters. He had no idea. This was something else. This was love. He was cracked open and bleeding love.
Chapter 35
Jules patted his freshly shaven jaw with the white terrycloth towel. It had been some kind of morning…his first to wake up a married man. Legal. He could make love with the blessing of every Bible-toting mother on the planet. Even Moses was smiling at him. So was Isbe; even in her sleep, she’d been smiling. She wasn’t some girl giving away the milk for free. He’d laid down his life, and she was pouring it on. It was just “ahhhh.”
He had to work not to smile. Her body, her kisses… Mama Mia, her sounds, those eyes, her voice saying his name, her touch, so loving, and every part of her satisfying tender flesh—shit! He loved married life. At least the first twenty-four hours were going swell.
He remembered what he’d told her: “I always want this; you—don’t—don’t ever pull away. Let’s keep it like this. All the time.”
And she said they would. She would, for her part, stay open to him. They’d make up, make it work, make lots and lots of love. She wouldn’t withhold herself, her body. He’d asked for that. They’d do it.
“I don’t want that thing where we…start a war, keep a war. Then we don’t do this.” He didn’t know how to say it. He wanted it to be good and real between them, all the time. He had no idea how a man and wife lost it—the thing that brought them together in the first place—but he hoped to God that he and Isbe could hang onto it. It about broke his heart to think they could get to the place where—he couldn’t even stand to think about it—she could look at him like she wanted to puke. If he ever saw that…he hoped she understood how to keep it like it was now, so she could help him figure it out, cause he’d probably make her mad—well, pretty regular is what he feared. But as long as she stayed nuts about him, he could talk her out of it—eventually. But if she got to the place where she wanted to puke—he couldn’t talk her out of that. They’d be ruined then.
