A Thousand Lies

by Sala, Sharon

His clothes came in trade for his services, and while there wasn’t a woman living who’d been willing to live such a meager existence, Voltaire did not do without sex when he wanted it. He did favors for people who did favors for him. That’s how it worked. And that’s why, when he saw Anson Poe pull up in his yard, he got up from the bench on what passed for his porch, and waited for his approach.

  “Hey, Voltaire, long time-no see,” Anson said and handed him a small package. “For when you’re in the mood.”

  Voltaire took the marijuana, laid it on the bench and then walked over to a small bucket sitting in the shade.

  “You got a bucket in that truck?” Voltaire asked.

  Anson went back to the truck, got a small plastic bucket out of the truck bed and handed it to Voltaire, who dumped the contents into Anson’s bucket.

  “Crawfish. I thank you, Voltaire. That’ll be good eating.”

  Voltaire nodded and only then pocketed his weed. He would accept a gift, but he had to give one in return. He lived his life by never being beholden to another man.

  “I have business,” Anson said, carefully eyeing the leather-faced man with the small, black eyes.

  Although Voltaire looked innocent enough, he knew the man was always armed, most usually a hunting knife he used for skinning gators.

  “Take a seat,” Voltaire said, indicating the bench he’d just vacated.

  Anson set his bucket aside and pulled out the wad of cash he was carrying. “What I need will require payment to others to make it happen.”

  Voltaire leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. He knew all there was and more about Anson Poe. He didn’t want him for an enemy, but he wasn’t afraid of him either.

  “Tell me what you need, and I will tell you how much it will cost,” he said.

  “Payback,” Anson said.

  Voltaire nodded once. “Revenge is costly. Kindly elaborate.”

  “I want two fires set.”

  “Name the places.”

  “Frenchie’s.”

  Voltaire’s eyes widened slightly. It was his only reaction to setting fire to what his mama had called a house of ill repute.

  “And the other?”

  “The Black Garter on a Saturday night.”

  Voltaire stood. “Entering into a war with Grayson March will end badly.”

  Anson unfolded his six-foot plus height as a muscle jerked at the corner of one eye. “Do you want the job or not?”

  “This will cost much money.”

  Anson opened his fist, revealing the wad of one hundred dollar bills. “There’s five thousand dollars here. If you need more, I’ll get it.”

  “It will suffice,” Voltaire said, and held out his hand.

  “Within the week,” Anson added.

  Voltaire nodded once, then went into his house and shut the door.

  Anson picked up his crawfish, got back in his truck, and headed home. Back on the main road, he caught a glimpse of a vehicle he didn’t recognize parked back up in the woods. Grayson March thought he was smart, having Anson tailed, but they couldn’t put one over on him. Not out here. This was his milieu, and there was more than one way to skin a fat cat like March.

  ****

  Three days later

  The endless days and nights of living two separate lives was finally wearing Brendan down. By the time he got off work, it was almost 3:00 a.m. He fell into bed and slept until Linny woke him up, usually sometime between 8:00 and 9:00 a.m. After that, he was up for the day, making breakfast for the three of them while planning what needed to be done before Claudette’s arrival.

  Delle’s feet were at a painful stage of healing. The burned skin was beginning to slough off, and Brendan had to take her back to the doctor. The removal of dead skin and fresh bandages was a painful process that left Delle shaking and in tears.

  On this particular morning, they had just returned from the hospital when Claudette met them in the parking lot. She was carrying a large tote bag, which she quickly slung over her shoulder and grabbed the sack of groceries from the SUV.

  Brendan carried his mother into the apartment with Claudette at his heels and Linny tagging along behind all of them. They rode the elevator up together, and once inside his apartment, he settled Delle in bed while Claudette and Linny began putting away groceries. He gave his mother a pain pill, which she took gratefully, chasing it with a drink of cool water.

  Once it was down, Delle fell back against the pillows. Despite the cool air inside the bedroom, there was a bead of sweat on her upper lip.

  “Mama, I’m so sorry,” Brendan said softly.

  She grabbed his hand, holding it against her heart. “You have nothing to apologize for, son. I just need to rest for a bit.”

  He pulled a light cover up to her waist and then waited for her to fall asleep. As he sat, he thought of his brothers. Although they called daily for updates, they had yet to come see her. They were stuck in the middle of their father’s illegal trade, but aligned with their mother’s plight.

  When she suddenly cried out in her sleep, he touched her arm and she stilled. It was eerie, looking at her like this, like looking at a body in a casket. Had it not been for the soft rise and fall of her breasts, she could have been mistaken for dead. Anson had beaten the life out of her, and the body had yet to acknowledge the death.

  Linny slipped into the room and whispered in his ear.

  “Aunt Claudette wants to talk to you.”

  He tweaked her nose as she darted away and went to the kitchen where Claudette was preparing lunch.

  “What’s up, Auntie?”

  Claudette loved the title he had bestowed upon her and made no attempt to hide her affection for her sisters’ children.

  “We will talk about your father,” she said and pointed to a chair. “Please sit. Linny is going to go play with the doll I brought for her today.”

  Linny had just been dismissed and knew it. She skipped out of the room, anxious to give the doll and the small chest of doll clothes a closer look.

  Claudette sat down to face him. Today she wore another loose dress, this time of green fabric with large white flowers in the design and had her dreadlocks tied back with a long black ribbon. She was a magnificent woman, and he knew she knew it.

  He frowned. “Why do I feel like I’m going to get the third degree, and what about Anson?”

  “Mama Lou sends a message. Your father’s heart is very dark. He has a plan of which you should beware. He wants revenge for something you have done to him and will go to extremes to get it.”

  Brendan’s gut knotted. “I expected as much.”

  “What did you do to him?” Claudette asked.

  “Enough,” Brendan said.

  Claudette shrugged. “Just beware. It won’t be just you who suffers when he strikes.”

  “It never is,” Brendan said, thinking of the three women in his life, and knowing he would never be able to keep them safe as long as Anson Poe was alive.

  “So, I have delivered the message. Now I will make lunch,” Claudette said.

  Brendan glanced at his watch. “Nothing for me. I have a couple of errands to run, and I want to go check on Julie before I leave.”

  Claudette moved to the refrigerator and took down a small stack of crockery from the top. “Then, please, give these to Juliette for me, and thank her very much for the food. When you are hungry, there will be enough leftovers for you to eat.”

  “Will do, and tell Mama Lou thank you for the warning.”

  “I will do that,” Claudette said, and went back to her tasks.

  Brendan paused in the living room to watch his little sister, then set the dishes down and walked closer.

  The doll Claudette brought her was beautiful, and obviously old. Linny had the clothes laid out along the back of the sofa and was talking to the doll as if she were real, while Rabbit sat at the other end of the sofa, observing.

  He smiled. “So is Rabbit on guard today?”

  Linny looke
d up. “Rabbit is always on guard. He keeps me safe at night.”

  Brendan frowned. “Are you afraid sleeping here, honey?”

  “I’m always afraid. Something’s going to happen to me. I don’t know when or what, but it will. I need Rabbit to stand guard.”

  His frown deepened. “Why would you say that, baby? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She shrugged. “It just will. I’ve always known it.”

  A sudden chill shot through him. “I won’t let Anson hurt you,” he said, and sat down beside her.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the space beneath his chin. “I love you most of all my brothers,” she whispered.

  “And I love you more,” he said, his voice suddenly shaking. “I have to go run some errands, but tomorrow is Sunday. It’s my day off. If Mama feels like it, we can take a ride out to the Crab Shack on the bayou to eat dinner.”

  “And could I get a beignet? I love them so much, and Mama doesn’t make them anymore since you moved away.”

  Yet another surge of guilt swept through him. “Yes, you can have all the beignets you want. We’ll even get some to bring home.”

  “Yay! That will be fun, Sir Brendan.”

  He smiled. “I live to serve the good Queen Belinda.”

  As soon as he got up, she went right back to playing.

  “Come turn the deadbolt after I leave,” he said and picked up the dishes.

  She followed him to the door and waved good-bye.

  He stood out in the hall until he heard the deadbolt click and then headed for Juliette’s apartment.

  Chapter Five

  Julie was hanging up the clothes she’d picked up from the cleaners. Tomorrow was Nonny’s birthday dinner and all she had left to do was wrap her grandmother’s present and she was good to go. She noticed a business card on the bedside table as she started to leave and picked it up.

  It was from a lawyer. She recognized the name but not how it had come to be in her bedroom, and guessed it had fallen out of Brendan’s wallet the last time they’d made love. Just the thought of being with him was enough to curl her toes.

  Then a faint ding from another room caught her attention. It was the bell on her kitchen timer reminding her the food she’d put in the oven was done. She set the card aside, gathered up the plastic bags from the cleaners to put in the garbage, and headed for the kitchen.

  A few minutes later, she was dishing up seafood casserole when she heard a knock at the door.

  “Well darn it,” she muttered, set her plate of food into the microwave, then made a run for the living room.

  “Who is it?” she asked, her hand on the knob.

  “The big bad wolf.”

  She swung the door inward. “Brendan! Just in time!”

  He handed her the dishes then followed her to the kitchen. The moment she put them down, he swept her off her feet.

  She laughed out loud. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Wolfish things,” he growled, and nipped at the lobe of her ear.

  Julie moaned and melted into him. Casserole be damned. This was food for her soul.

  “Do you have time for this?” he asked.

  “I always have time for this,” she whispered.

  He carried her into her bedroom, then laid her down on the bed and began kicking off his boots.

  Juliette came out of her clothes without delay, and was ready and waiting when he crawled between her legs.

  “Foreplay is highly overrated,” she drawled, eyeing his most remarkable erection.

  “That’s not what I hear,” he said and proceeded to prove it.

  She was riding the first wave of a climax when he slid between her legs and took his pleasure.

  Time ceased.

  A cop car flew past the apartment building with sirens screaming, and for a moment, she thought the scream had come out of her mouth. He made her crazy in the best possible way, and she was still savoring the aftershocks when Brendan let out a low groan.

  “Dear Lord,” he said, as he rolled off her onto his back.

  She turned toward him to rise up on one elbow. “If you were praying for mercy, it’s too late.”

  He laughed as he kissed her.

  “I have food,” she said, when he finally let her go.

  “I can smell it.”

  “Do you want some?”

  “Food?”

  She doubled up her fist and popped him on the shoulder. “Be serious.”

  “Hark, what light by yonder... no... yon window breaks? Is it the Juliette of my dreams creating magic in the kitchen?”

  Now she was laughing. “Romeo, oh Romeo, that’s not quite how Shakespeare wrote it, and the magic has already been created.” She rolled out of bed, grabbing her clothes as she went. “Just let me get dressed and we can eat.”

  She noticed the card again, and pointed. “I think that’s yours. It must have fallen out of your wallet.”

  He saw it and put it back in his wallet.

  “Yes, it’s mine, in case Mama ever considers leaving Anson.”

  Instead of putting on clothes, he watched her dress, wondering how anyone so small could hold someone his size in the palm of her hand.

  When she hurried out of the room, the thought of food finally made him move. He got up and dressed, then followed the enticing aroma to her kitchen.

  “What smells so good?”

  “Seafood casserole. Enjoy,” she said, and handed him a plate with a very generous serving. “Dig in, Bren. I’m right behind you.”

  He sat down and took a big bite, rolling his eyes in appreciation. “She’s smart and beautiful, makes love like a goddess, and she can cook. I am such a lucky man.”

  She took her plate to the table then quickly took a big bite. Making love definitely agreed with her because she was suddenly starving.

  “How’s Delle? Didn’t you take her to the doctor this morning?” she asked.

  “Yes, I did. She’s healing and still in pain, but convinced she needs to hurry up and get well so she can go home.”

  Julie frowned. “Oh no. I’m so sorry. I thought—”

  He shrugged. “So did I. I don’t understand their relationship at all. She lets him hurt her.”

  Julie heard a slight shake in his voice and knew he was troubled. “Did he beat you boys when you were growing up?”

  Brendan frowned. “Not like you mean, although there were countless times when I thought we’d catch hell for sure. But the minute he amped up, Mama stepped in and—”

  Brendan paused in midsentence.

  Julie saw an odd expression cross his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I never thought of our life quite like that before. We were all afraid of him and pretty much hated his guts.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m wondering now if Mama purposefully took the brunt of his anger for us.”

  Julie leaned forward. “So maybe that explains why she stayed. As long as she’s there, he leaves her children alone.”

  It was the first time Brendan had thought of his mother’s behavior in that light, but knowing his father, it made a twisted sort of sense.

  Julie topped off the iced tea in their glasses. Brendan raised his in a toast, determined to change the subject to something more pleasant.

  “To women,” he said.

  Julie smiled. “I’ll drink to that.”

  So they did.

  ****

  Saturday night at The Black Garter was always noisy, and tonight was no exception. Brendan and a part-time bouncer named Marco had just broken up a fight, and were escorting the responsible parties out of the bar. As they came back into the club, Marco moved toward the far end of the room, while Brendan returned to the stage at the front. It wasn’t until he paused that he realized Julie’s troll was already seated at the bar nursing a drink. He caught the look in her eyes and frowned. She was uneasy, which made him wonder what he’d missed, and when she l
ifted her chin, motioning him over, he didn’t hesitate.

  ****

  The room was packed with people crowding up around the bar, jostling the customers already sitting there. A couple of customers were already three sheets to the wind, which made serving them difficult. Julie stopped serving one man at the bar when she realized he was so drunk he kept falling off his stool. She looked around for Brendan or Marco to come get him, but they were nowhere in sight.

  But the larger issue for her was the troll. She was rattled and trying not to show it, but the man had broken his routine. Instead of tapping his empty glass on the bar for a refill, he was loudly calling her by name.

  The change in behavior was disconcerting, and when she finally saw Brendan moving back toward the bar, she signaled for help. He came quickly

  “What’s up, Julie?”

  “The troll’s talking to me. In fact, he hasn’t stopped.”

  Brendan knew this was aberrant behavior, which was worrisome, but when he turned to look at him, the man appeared to be watching the dancers on the stage behind the bar.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him, honey.”

  “Okay,” she said, then pointed at the drunk at the far end of the bar. “He needs a ride home.”

  He spotted the guy, hit speed dial on his phone, and called a cab, then headed toward the other end of the bar.

  Julie watched him maneuver the drunk off the stool, and then walk him to the front.

  “Hey, Julie! Julie!”

  She winced. The troll had just finished his third drink. Normally, he would have still been nursing the second. What the heck was going on?

  ****

  Chub Walton was high on anticipation. Come hell or high water, tonight he was making his move. She was due for a break within the hour, and when she headed back to the bathroom, he was going to be right behind her. He’d seen the exit plenty of times in the back. He also knew there were security cameras, but he was off the radar as far as the police were concerned. Even if he stood in front of the cameras and waved, they still wouldn’t know his name.

  He slid the glass toward her, knowing she would have to catch it to keep it from sliding off the bar. When her fingers curled around the glass, he got a hard-on just thinking about putting his mouth where her hand had been.