

Up With Lo

by Roman Dee Hellwigi

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 Roman Dee Hellwigi

Konkywampus Press

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
For every man who understands: Suck it up and try hard- because anything else makes you look ridiculous.

### 1

"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."

-Henry David Thoreau

"That's the last of 'em, sir." The mover walked around to the front of the apartment and stood nervously holding a clipboard filled with receipts and papers for Lo to sign. "Is there anything else we can do for you?"

Lo could tell the whole lot of them couldn't wait to get the hell out his apartment.

It never ceased to amaze him how fast the novelty wore off, once the reality of the situation sunk in.

"Nope, that's all boys. Thanks again." Lo tried his best to sound like one of the guys. Lately, for the past two hundred years, he always tried to sound like one of the guys.

A young worker in his early twenties took the clipboard from a nervous Portuguese man and thrust it at Lo with gusto.

"So it's really you! Man-- I mean, I can't believe it's really you!" He stood looking at Lo with a wholehearted smile plastered on his face and an honest to goodness sense of bravado Lo hadn't seen in a long time.

Lo took the clipboard from the kid and signed his initials on the line highlighted in fluorescent yellow, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of twenty dollar bills to give to the two grunts that did most of the real work.

"It's really me."

"I thought you'd be bigger." Said the young man.

Everyone within earshot looked uneasy. Lo could see the Portuguese man had visibly started to sweat.

He purposely gave the clipboard back to the Portuguese man, handed the twenty dollar bills off to the two grunts, and smiled wide.

"That's because I'm wearing street clothes-- Believe me kid, you don't want to see me out of my street clothes."

The young man laughed, then swallowed hard.

He flushed for a moment and his pale skin turned pink. Lo patted him on the shoulder to reassure him he'd done nothing wrong.

Not really. Not anymore.

Lo felt the kid's shoulder wither slightly under his hand.

The young man inhaled deeply and walked to the door of the apartment to wait awkwardly with the rest of the grunts.

The Portuguese man told all of the workers to go down and wait in the truck.

"Undelay, go now!" The man tried his best not to sound urgent, but fell short by a mile.

Once the apartment cleared out and the two of them were alone, the Portuguese man grabbed Lo's hand, kissed it and apologized.

He begged Lo not to damn the silly young man for eternity.

Lo had heard all of the sentiment before, a million times and over, but was pleasantly surprised by the display of real emotion for someone clearly not related to the man by blood.

He guessed the older Portuguese man was of the old world values and ways, and Lo tried his best to remember some of them and sound authentic.

"Of course not, my good fellow." Said Lo, in the man's native village tongue. "Not to worry my friend, not to worry! I give you my word as a man; as a gentleman. Go now, in _paz._ "

It had been a long time since Lo had spoken Portuguese.

The man backed out of the apartment slowly, thanking him repeatedly, half crouched and equally as assured.

Lo walked to the window and watched as the grunts piled into the back of the truck, giddy from the shell shock of the situation.

The Portuguese man jumped into the driver's seat shaking his head. He started the truck, looked up at the window and raised his hand to Lo in a salute. Lo watched them drive away.

Like I could give a shit about some dumb kid, thought Lo.

Here I am, trying to get myself together again-- Always again, and everywhere I look, people think I give a shit.

Fucking mortals. Like they're so important.

It was classic.

Lo walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a half chilled Miller Genuine Draft. He pushed a packing blanket off of his lazy-boy, sat down, and opened the bottle with his teeth.

Crying was a solid option.

It had been exactly seven days and four hours since his last cry, and he was determined not to break the streak.

"Pull it together man-- For the love of god, just pull it fucking together."

All of the unpacked boxes of sentimental crap he swore he wouldn't let himself accumulate sat silently in order. A sort of tidy, geometric solidarity.

Lo pushed his back against the leather until the leg rest flew out and up, right underneath his calves, and the chair reclined to the exact position he loved. He took several long, slow drinks of the beer until the bottle was empty, then sat it down next to the ancient middle eastern sculpture that one of the movers had placed on the wood floor wrong side up, next to the chair.

Lo stared at the sculpture, unblinking.

Maybe the placement had been wrong all along.

Had the crazy onyx statue sat upside down for centuries?

In Argentina. In Rome. In France. For fuck sake!

He thought about everyone who had seen it that may have had the expertise to notice, but didn't have the balls to tell him.

Funnier yet, they had neither.

That crazy fucking statue outsmarted all of us, thought Lo.

He laughed, and just as a little beer burp escaped his mouth, he remembered Lagusta, topless and wearing her silky white pantaloons as she danced around the statue, calling it her treasure.

It was the only thing Lagusta wanted from the ancient house after her body had healed enough to travel.

They'd left riding the dead master's horses, and Lo, feeling grateful for the servants' help in her recovery, extended an open invitation to loot the house as they saw fit.

Free of repercussion from anyone.

Turning and feeling the shape of the smooth black stone with her hands, Lagusta sat the statue on the marble floor in front of her and spread her beautiful long legs on either side of it, moving it constantly from end to end and saying "this way" no, now "that way" now, "this" no, "that!"

"Lo, come see for me!" She would shout. "Help me, help me, help me, Lo!"

He remembered exactly how it felt to help her, help her, help her.

Her scarred breasts hung like beige pearls, and the white marble floor looked like milk beneath her bare, sun tanned feet.

She'd turn to Lo and let him gaze upon her at his leisure, then slowly pull off her silky thin pantaloons, and stretch and bend and stroke. Staring directly into the the sun, or pointing at the bright flashes of shimmer reflecting off of the little fish as they swam in the pond catching the sunlight on their scales.

She'd act terrified and point at his abstract shadow, closing her clouded eyes and gasping.

Lo played the role she wanted him to play every time.

How could he refuse his adorable little housemaid? She loved him for him, after all.

He would pull off his pants and stand on his cloven hooves while she felt her way up his left leg to unwrap his tail, then he'd toss her onto their down filled bed and play the evil savage, as she'd giggle and act ceremoniously virginal and appalled; grabbing onto his horns and pushing his head down in between her breasts, where he'd trace the scars from the rapist's teeth with his tongue, and lie, telling her that no mortal man would ever notice.

As was the custom of the time, she'd been castrated in a gruesome, but often effective attempt to help young women marry up in the culture.

Lo never pushed for sexual favors, but Lagusta had been offended by his sympathies.

"A caged sparrow is still a sparrow." She declared.

She insisted on acting out all of the hair tossing and screaming, the real pomp and circumstance, entirely for his amusement.

Thinking about her determined selflessness still made him smile, even after a thousand years.

The first time Lo stumbled across Lagusta, it was by chance.

She was bloody and half blinded, curled up naked on the stone floor in the kitchen of the spectacular house.

The rapist had thrown hot oil in her face, even though any accusation coming from a kitchen maid in that time and place would never have mattered.

The man did it anyway. Maliciously.

Thinking about that always chapped Lo's ass.

Lo loved seeing the great houses evolve, and how the so called noble families that lived within the walls evolved with them, generation by generation.

He rarely went snooping about, especially when he was an invited guest and invitations were scarce, to say the least.

But shit happens.

He'd killed every man at the party that night in a violent but controlled act that left the china unbroken, and the women unscathed; except for their bloody little footprints scattered haphazardly on the stone floor as they stepped over and around their lifeless male counterparts.

Partly from overzealous disgust, and partly by simple necessity, Lo began eating the dead souls- one by one- in order to identify the rapist.

When he tasted what can only be described as rotted milquetoast, he tore off the head and placed it in an empty wine box, along with a brief note to the man's sons informing them of their future fate.

Back in those days, he had zero tolerance for such cowardly acts of brutality against women, and had taken out entire blood lines in less than twenty-four hours.

Explaining the lack of willing hosts and dinner companions.

Lo carried the dead owner's marble bathtub down the staircase and sat it by the fire in the kitchen.

When the servants finished filling it with water, he used his hand to heat it to an exact hundred and two degrees, then carefully lowered Lagusta's battered body down into the water, while a shell-shocked but functioning kitchen cook scraped rendered duck fat from a crock for her burns.

Lo instructed the servants to bring him all of the jewelry belonging to the lady of the house, along with the finest wines from the cellar.

The rich, deeply colored stones sparked wildly in front of the flames.

He draped each piece of jewelry dramatically along the side of the bath tub in hopes that the little house maid would be curious, then sat down on the cooks stool to finish the carrots doused with the last of the pheasant gravy and a glass of hundred year old port.

By the time the fire was starting to die down, his lovely Lagusta had picked up an emerald necklace and was holding it in front of her swollen face to admire the stones with what was left of the warm yellow light and her vision.

Jewels work every time, thought Lo, and he placed a sterling silver goblet full of wine into her hands and told her to take a big swallow.

"You're mine now, and I'll take care of you." Lo announced to the room, as if he owed the servants some sort of an explanation.

Lagusta moved her head slowly and hesitantly, like she understood his words, but wasn't sure of the ramifications.

The emerald necklace slid from her hand like worthless shells, and fell onto the stone floor in a glowing green pile as she pulled her knees to her chest and began to cry.

"Please sir, I beg of you!" She sobbed. "Please my Lord, just heal my eyes."

He swallowed the lump in his throat knowing that no one, not even himself, would be able to fix what some evil prick had broken on a perverted whim.

The room was silent with expectation.

"I cannot." Said Lo, as if he was okay with his lack of any real power.

The power for good.

"But-- You will have whatever your hearts desires. Anything at all! You'll want for nothing. Ever. As long as you live."

He could still remember the exact way she turned her head away from him, and slunk neck deep into the warm water.

"You're in strong, solid hands now, my dear-- Far better than the clumsy hand of fate." Said one of the servants, an old hunched back woman who'd been cutting muslin for Lagusta's wounds.

Lo smiled wide at the servant and opened another bottle of port.

He filled a large goblet full of the garnet colored liquor, and handed it to the old broken woman who favored him kindly with her wisdom.

She thanked Lo as a Lord and Master, grinning flirtatiously, and drinking the port down clean to the sterling silver bottom.

Buzzzzz. Knock- knock- knock. Buzz- buzz.

Lo sat up in his lazy-boy and looked at his watch in disbelief. He'd been dreaming.

Knock- knock- knock.

He pushed the chair back into position and stood up, adjusting his Levis as he walked to the door and looked through the peep hole.

On the other side of the door stood a skinny little black boy around ten years old, wearing tortoise shell glasses and carrying a casserole dish.

Lo opened the door.

"Hi! I'm Antoine, from downstairs. My mom made this for you!" The kid held out the casserole dish with both of his boney, adolescent arms fully extended.

Lo took the dish.

"She doesn't want me up here bothering you or anything, she just thought it might be a good idea to start things off right." Said Antoine, adjusting his glasses. "I guess everybody's been up here in your grill already, huh?"

Lo stood with the dish in his hands, not sure what to say next.

The kid stood across from him in the doorway, utterly relaxed and waiting for Lo to reply.

"Yeah, I guess so. You could say that."

Lo couldn't remember a time in his entire history when a complete stranger had made him a casserole.

Ever.

He stepped back from the door and motioned for the kid to come in.

Antoine's eyes got real big and he hesitated for just a moment, then followed behind in tow like a little duckling as Lo went into the kitchen to set the casserole dish on the stove.

"So what's your name?"

"My name?" Asked Lo with raised eyebrows, teasing the kid. "I'm pretty sure you know my name, Antoine."

"I meannn--" Antoine said, smiling but exasperated. "What should I call you?"

"Call me Lo."

Lo theatrically tipped an invisible hat on his head, then reached out properly to shake the kids hand, feeling how soft and fragile and slightly deformed it was from the wrist down.

They stood shaking hands and grinning at each other, while Lo breathed in the kid's soul. It smelled like warm popcorn.

"Well, I should probably go back downstairs before my mom thinks you have me up here drinking and smoking."

Lo laughed out loud at Antoine's remark.

"You're a pretty funny kid."

"Thanks!"

"I'm surprised you came up here." Said Lo, as he walked Antoine to the door.

"Why?" Asked Antoine.

"I think you know why." He gave the kid a little push towards the door.

"My grandma says we have nothing to fear from you-- You old hat."

"Your grandma sounds like a pretty smart lady." Lo said, laughing.

Antoine forgot himself and half skipped across the doorway like a little girl.

"And tell your mom I said thanks for the casserole. It smells amazing!"

"It's been a while, huh?" Said Antoine, walking backwards and tipping an imaginary hat of his own.

"You have no idea, kid."

Lo's cell phone rang as he was hanging an old oil painting he bought at a street fair a hundred years before.

He looked down at the phone and saw Jack's name and face flash across the screen.

Jack had taken the picture of himself on the night of his own birthday party and programmed it into Lo's phone when he wasn't looking.

Lo picked up the phone from the coffee table and pushed talk.

"What's up dick head?" Asked Jack. "What are you doing?"

It's what Jack said every time.

"Absolutely nothing... Just trying to get this dump in order."

"Do you want me to come over and help you?"

"By help, do you mean drink my beer and eat all of my leftovers?" Lo asked.

"Yes, precisely. That's exactly what I meant. You know me so well." He snort-laughed into the phone.

"Okay, whatever. I'll see you when you get here."

"Look at you!" Said Jack. "Back in the high life."

"If by high life, you mean a third story walk up in Harlem, then yeah, I'm back."

Lo hung up and stood eyeballing the painting from across the room.

It was really gaudy, but he loved all of the different brushstrokes, and for some reason, the vivid colors reminded him of when food was good. Really good. Not like some of the shit people shoveled in their mouths nowadays.

Lo thought about McDonald's.

The first and last time Lo ate a Big Mac he could have sworn he tasted fear. He could never understand why anyone in their right mind would eat something like that on a daily basis, let alone feed it to their kid.

He stood on the sofa, squishing the cushions under his feet and messing around with the painting for a couple of minutes longer.

After losing his balance twice, he lost interest and decided to start on the last of the cardboard boxes that he'd stuffed haphazardly into the hall closet.

Inside one of the boxes were two daguerreotypes of the Bailey family that Mr. Bailey had made special, as a going away gift for Lo before Lo moved to New York. America's City, as it was called back then.

Madam Bailey had been so worried about his voyage overseas, that once, when the entire family was at the dinner table and their middle son Joseph was telling everyone about the speeds at which the new boats could travel, she was overcome by emotional distress and had to be carried to the fainting couch, sherry in hand, fanning herself with the peacock feathered accordion fan Lo had given her as a birthday gift.

The image of her on that couch was burned into his brain.

His heart softened as he looked at the pictures of the Bailey family standing together in their library, firmly united and dressed impeccably.

As was the fashion of the time, not one of them wore an expression.

Except for Madam Bailey.

She looked directly into the camera with a hedonistic smirk on her face. Like she knew damn well she was breaking with convention, and was loving every second of it.

Lo sighed softly looking at the picture and thought about what a gracious woman she'd been to him. She had taken him under her wing, and her family had done the same at the request of their loving, dramatic matriarch. No questions asked.

Knock- knock- knock- knock- knock- knock.

Jack-- that asshole, thought Lo, as he jumped up and walked to the door.

"It's me, Sally. I'm here for the pillow fight." Jack said, trying to imitate a woman's voice.

Lo unlocked the door.

Jack flung it wide open with one push, and stood bent over at the waist with his hands on his hips, sucking in the air around him like his life depended on it.

"Look at you!" Said Lo. "You're a real Carl Lewis."

Jack was heaving and laughing and choking on his own spit.

"Hey big guy, uh, 1984 is in the hall, dressed in dayglow and ready to take back the black athlete reference."

Lo knew he was right.

Jack always managed to keep him in the proper decade.

"Whatever. You're too quick for me." Smirked Lo, and he sat down on the sofa.

Jack had already recovered enough to look around and give the place a thumbs up.

"Not too shabby... Definitely an improvement." He said with sincerity.

It _was_ an improvement, and Lo knew it. He'd been feeling sorry for himself for way too long, and this apartment was the first step he'd taken in a while to get out of his funk.

"I'd put that," Jack said, motioning to a side table that Lo had placed against the sofa "over there."

"Bullshit. That would look too-- I don't know-- Busy over there."

"Busy! Whatever Martha Stewart, you'll come around. You always do."

Jack walked towards the refrigerator, as Lo sat trying to imagine the side table placed where Jack had suggested.

### 2

"Oh my god! What the fuck is this?" Jack shouted over his shoulder, as he stood in front of the refrigerator with the door open, staring at the bright yellow casserole dish with little red flowers painted on the ceramic lid.

Lo walked up behind him, and they stared into the refrigerator at the colorful casserole dish like it was something completely foreign and mysterious.

"The neighbor lady down stairs made it for me." Lo said, proudly.

"Bullshit!" Said Jack, his face straight as an arrow.

"She did-- She made it for me and her kid brought it up yesterday."

"Bullshit. What does she look like?"

"I don't know, haven't seen her. Her boy's black, so I'm assuming she is too."

"Holy shit, black women are so hot! You have to go check her out." Said Jack.

His face was lit up like a Christmas tree and if Lo split his pupils, he could see Jack as an eight year old kid, plain as day.

The ability to see people at every age of their life span, still, after thousands of years, gave Lo an uneasy, voyeuristic feeling. Like he was seeing something he shouldn't see.

Jack was beaming from ear to ear.

"Fuck you--" Said Lo. "I'm not going to go check-her-out... She'll think I'm a total creep if I just walk down there."

"You're right. She would. I've known you for twenty years and I think you're a total douche."

Jack pulled the casserole out of the refrigerator and sat it on the counter top. He took the flowered ceramic lid off of the top of the dish and started pulling kitchen drawers open, looking for the silverware.

"What are we doing?" Asked Lo, unsure.

"What do mean?" Jack said, looking irritated. "We're going to eat this fucking casserole, and you're going to do that crazy thing you do and figure out what this woman is like."

Lo hesitated for a moment, then went straight to the drawer where he'd arranged the silverware and pulled out two forks. He handed one to Jack, who was in the process of trying to find the salt and pepper shakers.

"You haven't even tasted it yet. How do you know it needs salt?"

"Believe me, I know. Now where are they?"

Jack motioned around the kitchen erratically with his pointer fingers, like they didn't have a moment to spare. Lo dug around in a cabinet, found the set of shakers, and set them down on the counter in front of Jack.

"Ladies first." Said Jack, and he pointed with the fork to the perfectly browned but cold casserole.

Lo broke through the crusty top layer with the tip of the utensil to get to the middle of the dish, then used his fingers to balance some of the noodles and shredded meat onto the fork. As he leaned down and stuck the concoction into his mouth, he smelled the distinct aroma of contentment.

Jack started to dig his fork into the casserole and was saying something about how good it looked, but Lo was somewhere else entirely.

He closed his eyes to savor the first moment of knowing her.

Right away, he tasted that she didn't do anything half-ass.

He sensed sweet clover in her nature and something more exotic, like saffron, in her soul. Lo could smell an overwhelming scent similar to opium, and figured she must be sensual because he only ever recognized it on extremely passionate women.

The casserole itself didn't taste half bad either.

After Lo swallowed the first couple of bites, he tried his best just to enjoy the flavor, but couldn't stop himself from feeling the love she had for her son the minute the food she had touched moved through his throat and into his stomach.

"Oh my god-- What in the hell is happening? Tell me!" Asked Jack, wide eyed and smiling with a mouth full of casserole.

Lo felt his blood rush, then suddenly felt embarrassed.

"Don't you dare hold out on me, dick head. I'm serious. I need this-- The last time I saw a woman naked was pretty damn close to six months ago and you know this, so spit it out!"

Lo laughed, and told Jack most of what he felt. He left out the sensual part, but made up a couple juicy tidbits to satisfy Jack's need for the nitty-gritty.

"Holy shit, she sounds so hot!" Said Jack, shaking salt over a perfect mound of casserole he'd stuck to his fork.

"It's not like I tasted a pair of giant tits or anything." Said Lo, rolling his eyes at Jack.

"All of this, right now that you're telling me, is hot my friend. Believe me, it is."

Lo stabbed another fork full of the casserole, but this time took the shaker from Jack's hand and salted the bite.

"See! See-- Oh my god, look at you. I told you!" Jack almost choked on his casserole bite trying to reiterate the point he'd made earlier about her recipe needing some salt.

Lo chewed and waved him off.

"She's fucking hot Lo, mark my words-- Salt. Hot. Whatever, I know this shit."

With each bite of the casserole, Lo started to think Jack was on to something.

Frank was on the door handle the second the cab rolled to a stop.

"Afternoon, Mr. Lo. You're looking well as always." Said Frank, and he winked at Lo. "Let me help you with your briefcase."

Frank took the briefcase as Lo stepped out of the cab and onto the sidewalk, then Frank closed the cab door behind him.

"Right this way, Mr. Lo." Said Frank, holding open one of the ostentatious scribed glass and brass doors of the auction house. "The same old bunch of assholes are waiting for you, with bells on."

Lo grinned and asked Frank how his grand kids were doing.

"They're doing, Lo. Everybody's doing everything nowadays, have you noticed? Doing, doing, doing-- Me and the Mrs can't keep up with them. Always with the facebooks and the soccer practice. I try and tell 'em to stop and smell the roses, but what can ya do, right?" Frank shrugged his shoulders.

"I know what you mean, Frank." Said Lo, nodding his head in agreement. "But you know I got your back, if you need me."

Frank handed Lo the briefcase.

"I know ya do. It's how I sleep at night, sir." He buzzed Lo in through the wood paneled door.

Lo had known Frank ever since he first started working the door at Sotheby's, around forty years ago. Frank was about twenty then, and a twice decorated soldier back from Vietnam. A handsome young man, Lo remembered, and pleasant from the get go.

Not suck up pleasant, but pleasant.

Because Frank was okay with Frank, he was therefore okay with Lo, no matter who or what Lo represented. Lo liked that about him.

Lo entered the large mahogany paneled room hung tastefully with nineteenth century chandeliers for aesthetics, but equipped with state of the art operating room quality lighting for business.

The door shut silently behind him, and Lo immediately recognized the difference in air quality.

It was as if any possible contaminant deemed unpleasant or unworthy was immediately sucked out of the room with silent mechanical force and spit back into the real world.

The staff of curators were milling around in white cotton gloves, making sure the lot was organized perfectly, so the process would go as quickly and smoothly as possible. Jack had made sure of this in the contracts.

Come to think of it, thought Lo, had it not been for Frank the doorman, Lo would have never met Jack.

He would still be using the same old firm, and the same shitty legal agreements. Sitting on his ass and waiting for these people to get their shit together.

It never ceased to surprise Lo how much people tried to take advantage of each other.

Even the devil himself, if he let them.

What a shame it was, thought Lo, that certain people had to be taught the same lessons, over and over and over again. Often brutally.

Lo remembered the day he fired that prick Donovan.

Jack had just graduated from law school and was starting out as a grunt for the firm, bringing the outdated clauses to Lo's attention, while the three of them sat in Donovan's office discussing the firm's fees.

Donovan ranted and raved for an hour, trying to make Lo look like a simpleton and Jack look like a traitor.

The nail in the coffin had been when Donovan called Lo a common thief.

Lo jumped across the desk in one quick animal-like motion, grabbing Donovan's wrists just long enough to stop his heart and remind him who was really in charge, regardless of all the fancy pieces of paper that littered the walls of the room like timeless jokes.

Jack walked around the desk as Donovan sat bug eyed and frozen in his big leather chair, and politely asked Lo to stop.

"Just don't-- Please, sir, they'll know."

His voice sounded truly afraid for Lo, as though Lo would get into real trouble if Donovan died.

They still laugh about how naive Jack had been back then.

Lo dropped Donovan wrists like a rag doll and told Jack not to worry.

"It takes more than this." Lo said, as he smoothed Donovan's ivory silk cuffs. "To kill something so thick."

Jack stood nervously wearing a shit-eating grin on his face, looking down at Donovan's body as it jerked hard just once and started to suck down large gulps of air, like someone had been holding his head under water for far too long.

"Holy shit! I'm so fired... Oh god, I'm fired!" Jack said, through a clenched jaw as Donovan gasp and white knuckled the chair arms.

Lo told him to settle down. Not to worry. He'd help him find another job, at another firm, if that was what he really wanted.

"Oh, yeah?" Said Jack, his jaw still clenched. "Just so were clear about this-- By helping me, you mean real help? Not like what just happened help, but real help. Because I have to be honest with you, sir, this was some real crazy shit I just witnessed, and I don't know if that's the kind of fucked up help I'll be needing in the future."

Lo couldn't help but laugh at Jack's honesty.

"I'm thinking any help at this point in your career, is a solid thing-- Give me a call when you calm down and I'll buy you a drink to celebrate your first sack."

Lo pulled a business card from the 14k gold card holder on Donovan's desk, and picked up Donovan's Mont Blanc pen. He pulled the cap off with his teeth and spit it on the floor, then wrote his phone number on the back of the card and handed it over to Jack.

"What if I don't call, big guy?" Asked jack, and he pointed down at Donovan who looked like he just ran a marathon in Haiti. "Is this going to be me in the near future?"

Lo told him not to fucking flatter himself.

Lo's phone rang the next morning at 11:00am sharp.

"Hey big guy, does the sack lunch drink offer still stand?"

Twenty years later, they're still calling their Friday afternoon scotch and sodas at the bar on 57th street their midday sack lunch.

Lo's assistant Caroline ran up as soon as she saw him and immediately tried to be of assistance while he hung up his jacket in the coat closet. He asked her for a glass of water, and she smiled at him politely, then took off across the room like her heels were on fire.

He slid the briefcase across the long mahogany counter, into the hands of the odd little man that took care of the financial part of the arrangement.

"Thank you, sir." Said the man, and nodded his head at Lo in the exact same way he'd been doing for thirty years. Just one clipped motion with his chin down and eyes direct, like a butler from the nineteenth century.

Lo sat down on one of the wide leather benches that lined the room and tried to look comfortable.

Caroline ran up carrying a crystal glass of chilled water and handed it to Lo along with a white cloth cocktail napkin. Lo wondered if Jack had written the napkin bit into the new contract, just to fuck with them.

Knowing Jack, he'd put in the exact measurements of the cotton fabric.

"They're almost ready for you, sir." Said Caroline, buzzing around Lo like a blond wasp. "And here is a brief on each object and the circa date, regions, and putative ownership records." Caroline made quote marks in the air with her fingers to emphasize the point of the ownership being in doubt.

"I get it." Said Lo, using the same finger gesture.

Caroline smiled an uneasy smile, then went back to hovering around the back of his chair.

Lo really didn't need any of the information, but it did make the entire process move more quickly, and quick was what he preferred when it came to using his senses for money.

Once the verified object sold, the auction house would deposit a percentage of the sale price into Lo's bank account. Between the cash for verifications and a percentage of the sale, he lived comfortably without having to fuck decent people in the process.

Lo took cash up front for the verification sessions so he could avoid standing in the line at the bank or using bank machines. He hated bank machines.

Once, a transgender Puerto Rican prostitute had recognized him and straight-up asked him what in the hell _he_ was doing at some dirty-ass bank machine, pulling out sixty bucks.

It made him seriously question his need to blend in with everyone else.

"It's never been owned by any one of any great military importance." Said Lo.

The two men standing next to him typed on their paper thin notebook computers, then waited for him to finish commenting on the object.

"No blood was spilled in malevolence. I'm guessing it was ornamental, something worn with a dress uniform of the time. A gift perhaps." Lo turned it over in his hand. "It wasn't exactly loved or cherished, but it was cared for... Only briefly."

Tippity- tap- tap- tap- tippity- tap.

Except for the anonymity it provided, Lo hated the computer age and couldn't wait to witness it come crashing down.

Eventually everything of great importance found an obscure, antiquated place in history.

Eventually.

He wouldn't even own a computer if Jack hadn't insisted. Telling him that it just made sense for his situation, and if he didn't get on the bus, he'd get left at the curb.

My situation, thought Lo. That's pretty fucking funny.

If Jack only knew how right he was, he'd shit himself and then cry his eyes out for me. Because I'm pretty sure this entire planet could blow up, and computer or no computer, I'll be floating upright in space.

Tap- tap- tap- tippity- tap- tap- tap.

The two men typed and spoke quietly and briefly amongst themselves in curt Queens English. One of the men smiled professionally at Lo and apologized for the interruption.

"Please, sir, by all means, continue."

"It feels like it was passed more in haste than of actual necessity." Said Lo. "Petty anger and doubt... Some hurt feelings."

Lo handed the dagger back to a woman wearing white cotton gloves, and she put the dagger down softly, like it was an egg, on the black velvet viewing pad from which it came.

She then escorted Lo to a tiny, spindly wooden stool about three feet tall.

Lo's first thought was that it looked like something from the dumpster behind his apartment, but he knew better. It was sitting on the same type of black velvet viewing fabric, only the cloth had been spread out like a towel on the floor underneath the stool.

"Please." Said the gloved woman, and motioned for Lo to sit down.

Lo looked at her like she was crazy.

"Are you kidding me? I'll break it." He turned around to make eye contact with the two men that were standing silently with their computer pads.

"Please, sir." The gloved woman motioned again for Lo to sit on the stool. "Please."

The contracts stated that if the object was meant to be held, Lo needed to hold it with his hands.

If the object was meant to be sat on, Lo needed to sit on it; if it broke, it was their loss.

He couldn't just touch a chair with the toe of his wingtip shoes, or put one cotton gloved finger on a dagger.

That wasn't the way it worked.

Caroline stood motionless, like a deer in headlights.

Lo felt like slapping her face. He made a mental note to have Jack hire an assistant that had his back for once, instead of the usual tight ass blondes that Jack was trying to fuck.

"So I have to make the call? It's all on me-- I see how it is." Said Lo, annoyed.

He noticed one of the two men holding the razor thin computers looked amused.

"Okay then. Just for the record, review the contract-- If it breaks, it's all on you people. Type that into your fancy computers!"

He smiled at his own outburst of concern for the little wooden stool.

Lo walked across the black velvet fabric, and sat down as carefully as he could on the ridiculous little artifact.

The distinct smell of intention in the air told him that one, maybe two people in the room, knew something about the stool that wasn't on the briefs.

Lo relaxed a bit and considered whether or not he was going to tell them anything.

How amusing would that be, thought Lo, looking at each of their nondescript faces as they watched his one man show.

He shifted slightly, and noticed his lips felt numb and tasted metallic.

An overwhelming sense of trust and innocence filled his chest like too much oxygen, and he suddenly felt like he might hyperventilate.

He closed his eyes and saw a surreal image of tiny silver buttons, growing wild in navy blue fields of wool.

Manipulation, then sadness followed by hopelessness, and a complete and total fear of the unknown moved through his chest.

Lo shifted again slightly to get his bearings and took a smaller breath than he actually needed, because the entire room was watching him and he didn't want to give any one the pleasure of seeing him become unsettled.

"Caroline, bring me my water."

The woman in cotton gloves held up her hand like she was not alright with a glass of water being brought around an object she was responsible for. Lo shot her a look like she was crazy, and possibly in far more danger than she realized.

A man in the far corner of the room raised his hand ever so slightly in regards to the gloved woman's hesitation, and the dispute was decided.

Caroline brought Lo his glass of water.

Lo stood up and swallowed some of the water, then motioned for Caroline to hand him the documentation brief.

The room was silent as he read the brief on the stools history.

Circa 1750-1850, New World English, lineage and original ownership known, but unverified.

Unverified, thought Lo. In other words, whoever was selling the stool was really selling some story that went along with the stool. And stories paid-- Well.

The pictures in the documentation did the stool a hell of a lot of justice, thought Lo.

He stood quietly for a moment thinking of the best way to word his next few sentences.

He'd learned this lesson from Madame Bailey. She told him he was a perfect gentleman in every way.

"Except!" Mrs. Bailey said, placing her hands together like she was praying and pointing them at Lo. "One must never let the right sentiments miss their mark due to inadequate arrows."

The silence in the air had turned to genuine uneasiness.

He scanned the room briefly and motioned to the man standing in the far back corner, guessing he held the most power. The man crossed the floor with quiet confidence, and the smell of deliberation moved just as confidently along with him.

"How may I be of assistance to you, sir?"

Lo stood motionless, sizing him up before extending his hand.

The man introduced himself as Russel Bird, the head curator of English antiquities.

"Well, Russel-- Can I call you Russel?"

The man stood three feet across from him, his quiet confidence unwavered by Lo's obvious agitation.

Lo thought again about Mrs. Baileys advice.

"You see, Russel--" Said Lo, leaning in so the man could feel his presence. "There are some artifacts I don't do. I don't do genocide, I don't do religion, and I for sure as shit don't do child abuse. Read the fucking contract."

The man's face lost a small bit of it's confidence, but surprisingly, not much.

Lo pulled back slowly, crossed his arms smugly over his chest, and waited for the man to speak.

The head curator of English antiquities didn't miss a beat.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you must forgive my ignorance." Said Mr. Bird, standing arrow straight and void of all emotion. "We have no prior understanding of any such atrocity being associated with this object."

"Bullshit!" Said Lo, losing all of his previous composure. He pointed to Caroline and told her to get Jack on the phone immediately.

The room remained silent in the minutes following, except for Caroline speaking in short concise answers to the questions Jack was bombarding her with from the other end of the line.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Bird." Said Caroline, the second she pushed the end button on her cell phone. "I must apologize for any inconvenience this may cause, but this verification session will have to be postponed. Effective immediately."

Lo noticed the fake syrupy sweet tone she was using didn't in the least, take away from the magnitude of the statement. He actually thought that coming from a fake blond with big tits, it somehow sounded all the more cutthroat.

He decided then and there that Caroline was back in his good favor and still had a job.

### 3

By the time Lo was in the cab, Jack was ringing him on his cell phone.

"What in the hell happened over there?" Asked Jack, the second Lo pushed talk and put the phone to his ear. "Caroline sounded like she was scared shitless. What did you do, Lo?"

"Why is it always my fault?" Asked Lo, in a huff.

"Because nine times out of ten, it _is_ your fault." Jack was laughing, but his statement was serious.

Lo hated to admit it, but this did seem to be the case lately when it came to his interaction with the higher ups at the auction houses.

"They were testing me Jack-- I know it."

He could hear Jack exhale slowly over the phone line.

"I know you always think I'm being paranoid, but I could smell it in the fucking room!"

"I'm not doubting you, Lo. I never doubt you." Said Jack, sincerely. "But it seems like we've been going through this a lot lately."

"Going through what?" Lo asked, even though he knew exactly what Jack was referring to.

"You freak out and turn into a diva, and it's scary, Lo-- You still scare people whether you like it or not. Remember the time at Christies in December? That was bad, Lo."

"Oh my god, Jack! It wasn't _that_ bad-- Now who's being dramatic?" Said Lo, exasperated. "I signed off on that stupid fucking thing, and it went for big bucks as I recall."

"It did." Said Jack. "I never said you fumbled the ball, did I? But Lisa quit-- She flat out quit. And that sweet little Asian lady working the object lot passed out cold... On one of the objects, if I remember hearing correctly."

The memory from that December day at Christies came flooding back to Lo in pitch perfect detail.

"Shit-- She did fall into that display easel." Lo said, feeling guilty. "God that was so bizarre... It was like she dove head first, right into the painting on purpose."

"I'm almost _glad_ I wasn't there! You know I would have laughed out loud." Jack said, trying to lighten the seriousness of Lo's recent behavior.

Jack was wearing two hats.

Being Lo's attorney and best friend at the same time couldn't be easy.

That day at Christies was Lo's fault and he knew it. December was a bad month for him. It always made him think too much about not being normal.

Staring out of the window of the cab, he tried to remember when he'd first started to notice- really notice- all of things he would never have.

Was it seven hundred years ago? No, thought Lo, it was probably more like five.

It wasn't until about three hundred years ago that the actual celebration of Christmas had started to depress him, and that was only because it magnified the fact that he'd never had a family of his own.

No Parents. No sisters or brothers. No wife and kids for fuck sake.

He loved the idea of Christmas. The parties, the music, the decorations. The ridiculous notion of peace and joy and brotherly love.

Sue Ellen, Mrs. Bailey's great granddaughter, had always extended an invitation to him for the holidays. Lo smiled thinking of her big clove studded, diamond patterned hams trimmed with pineapple rings.

She suffered from Alzheimer now.

When he visits, he brings along a slice of her favorite cheesecake, the one with strawberries piled high in whipped cream, and takes her for long leisurely walks around the park while she giggles and "sneaks a ciggy" from the fresh pack of lucky strikes he buys especially for her.

Lo throws the rest away when she's not looking, and hopes the nurses are none the wiser.

They talk and laugh and reminisce about people he's fairly sure never existed, and she introduces him to strangers on the street as "my handsome husband."

He sat in the cab watching the buildings flash by and remembered when Sue Ellen's grandmother, Laura, was just a child.

Lo had taken Laura to see the dinosaur exhibit at the natural history museum, and purchased a little wooden carving of one of the beasts for her from a man with a horse drawn trinket cart outside the museum. A triceratops, he remembered.

In the carriage on the way home, Laura had looked at Lo very seriously, and cupped her hand around her mouth in a whisper so the driver wouldn't overhear. Her breath had felt like tiny feathers against his ear.

"Do you remember seeing them, Lo?" She whispered.

She'd held up the little wooden triceratops with conviction. "You know... Seeing one for real!"

"No, my dearest." He told her, and she'd looked at him with understanding, but was disappointed none the less.

"I do, however... Remember the mummies curse!" He split his pupils for dramatic effect and tickled her while she squealed with delight.

It touched Lo immensely that someone so young and innocent had understood, on some level, the vastness of time he was dealing with.

It started to rain on the way home from the auction house, so Lo leaned back against the seat and let the sound of the cab's wind shield wipers clear all of the thoughts from his mind.

No Russel Birds of the world. No verifications. No sweet little Lauras, now long dead.

Just the sound of falling rain and simple mechanics.

Lo told the cab driver to pull over and stop just shy of his block, thinking it might do him some good to walk in the rain and breath in something timeless and familiar.

"You sure buddy? It's like cats and dogs out there." Said the cab driver, with some doubt in his voice.

"Yes. It's fine, pull over."

The cab driver handed Lo a section of his newspaper to use as a makeshift umbrella, and when Lo acted like he might refuse it, the man said, "Just in case buddy-- I mean, what the hell, can't hurt can it?"

Lo agreed and paid the fair, leaving the man a generous tip.

The second he smelled the natural essence of the rain, he felt better.

Cats and dogs, thought Lo.

He pulled the section of newspaper from under his arm, opened it half way, and held it up over his head.

What can it hurt?

If only he had a nickel for every time that sentiment blew up in someone's face.

When he got to his building, Antoine was bent over in front of the cement stoop with an umbrella, kicking at the rain water that was gushing like a waterfall from the down spout into the gutter.

"Hi, Antoine, what's going on?" Asked Lo, surprised by how glad he was to see him again.

The kid stood up and spun around.

The forks from the umbrella Antoine was holding caught on the side of the building just enough to pull the brightly colored canvas back slightly and let some rain drops fall onto his perfectly smooth black skin.

"Whoa... Hi Lo! You scared me." Said Antoine. His face wore just the tiniest bit of embarrassment.

"Are you waiting for someone?" Asked Lo.

"Yeah-- Well... No, not really." Antoine looked up at the gray, stormy sky. "I just like it a lot outside when it rains."

"Yeah... Me too." Said Lo. "A lot."

Antoine smiled, and wiped the raindrops off of his smooth brown cheeks with his sweatshirt sleeve.

The look of embarrassment wiped away with the wetness.

"Hey-- Do you want to see something really cool?" Asked Antoine.

The kids expression was priceless.

"Sure-- Okay." Lo said, grinning.

Antoine handed Lo his colorful umbrella, then motioned for him to stand off to the side, by the door way on the corner of the stoop.

Lo took the umbrella and stood exactly where the boy had motioned for him to stand.

Antoine took three wood shims from his back pocket and methodically stuck them up and underneath the downspout, in a way that directed the gush of rain water straight onto the front stoop, instead of down into the gutter.

The rain water swirled around on the flat cement, and Lo hoped like hell no one would walk out of the building and into the chaos he'd encouraged the kid to create.

When Antoine was finished arranging the shims, he stood up and slid along the front of the stoop until he got to the entry doors.

"I'll stand here, just in case somebody comes out-- They never do though." Antoine said, as he stared at the whirlpool of water forming on the stoop.

Lo was relieved and impressed by the kids concern.

"This is really cool." Said Lo, watching the water spin.

"Nah, Lo, not this-- Look over there... See it? It's starting."

Lo followed Antoine's focus to the very edge of the front stoop, where the swirling rain water was just beginning to pour over the riser and onto the first step.

Then down onto the second step.

And the third.

Once the stream reached the sidewalk, it spread out quickly into a map of liquid fingers. Moving like mercury through all of the cracks and crevasses along the cement, before pouring over the lip of the sidewalk and into the street in cloudy pools.

Lo stared at the whole production, amazed that the kid could turn utilitarian cement into a natural work of art, right before his eyes.

"Pretty cool, huh, Lo?" Antoine adjusted his glasses and smiled at the spectacle he'd created with three sticks of wood and his own ingenuity.

"Kid, this is awesome! Really amazing!"

Antoine's face looked the cookies and milk combination of proud and smug.

Lo side stepped against the back of the stoop until he was alongside Antoine. He switched the umbrella to his other hand and held it over both of their heads as they watched the odd mix of nature manipulated by man.

A woman walking a terrier stopped briefly in front of the stoop to admire Antoine's creation. The dog jumped from the bottom of the sidewalk to the top step, playfully barking and biting at the foam and taking long lapping drinks from the water swirling around it's paws.

By the time the woman and her dog left, the steady downpour had started to turn to sprinkles.

"Okay people, shows over!" Said Antoine, and he waded across the stoop and leaned down to retrieve the three wood shims from the downspout, hooking one of his bony arms onto the thick iron railing so he wouldn't slip.

The stoop returned to small puddles, and the remains of Antoine's masterpiece poured down into the gutter, almost like it never was.

Lo watched as the kid wiped the wet shims on his damp jeans and stuck them into his back pocket.

"Thanks Antoine, that made my day-- Seriously... That was cool." Said Lo, handing the kid the umbrella.

"That made your day? Dang... But it was cool, huh?" He flashed a smile at Lo, then shook out his umbrella like an adult before they walked inside the building.

Lo was on the second flight of stairs to his apartment when Antoine shouted up that his mom wanted her casserole dish back.

"She says before hell freezes over, if possible." Shouted Antoine, and Lo heard the kid giggle.

Lo knew the dish was already meticulously washed and ready to take back downstairs to the woman that tasted like sweet clover and oozed sensuality.

What he didn't know was how he was going to do it.

Lo spent an hour the next morning at the desk in his apartment trying to figure out exactly what to write.

"Thank you for the casserole, it was delicious!" Read the first note.

"Thanks, I really enjoyed it." Read the second.

"Thanks, you have no idea how long it's been--"

Jesus, that would freak her out, thought Lo, after he wrote the words. That would freak anybody out. Why in the hell am I sweating a noodle casserole for fuck sake?

By the time he'd finished, the desk was covered with balled up post-it notes, and the top of the enamel dish had a little yellow piece of paper stuck to the flowered top that read- Thank you. Period.

Putting off the inevitable was always a mistake.

He decided to go early in the afternoon when Antoine would be at school, and Antoine's mom would be at work.

Lo walked slowly down the staircase wearing his LL Bean house shoes and carrying the casserole dish. He stood quietly in front of the door, hearing nothing but the inner movement from his wrist watch.

As he bent down to place the casserole dish against the polished base board, he heard a loud pop- like a chicken bone being snapped in half. He stood up perplexed and looked down at his knee, completely surprised by anything along the lines of mortality.

"Woo wee!" Said a high, rusty voice. "I can't go sneakin' up on any one anymore with all my joints a crackin' and poppin'."

Lo jumped and turned on a dime.

"Oh, no... Did I scare you, sugar?" Said the petite old black woman. "I'm so sorry 'bout that, but I've been waiting for you ya-know!"

Her eyes sparkled up at Lo, and her skin looked smooth but worn, like an expensive leather glove.

She looked like she meant every word she was saying.

"You were waiting for me?" Asked Lo, slightly shocked. "Just now?"

"Ooh child please--" Said the woman. "I've been down in that hell hole of a laundry room trying to get things done! I don't have no time to be waitin' around in the hallway for handsome men to come strollin' by in their slippers."

She smiled and giggled at her own remarks.

Lo could see Antoine in her face, and hear his giggle in her voice.

He stood in complete shock of the situation for a few seconds longer, then held out his hand and introduced himself to the old woman.

"I know who you are, child-- But do you know who I am?"

She took his hand and shook it, then swung it back and forth, smiling up at him and playing with his fingers.

"Well baby..." Asked the old woman. "Do you know?"

He took a deep breath and exhaled, then leaned in as close as he could to the old woman, moving his head slowly back and forth like an animal, inhaling her skin, her breath, her hair.

He forked his tongue ever so slightly and touched the tip to the delicate inside of her ebony elbow, a spot Lo had discovered centuries ago held a surprising amount of female essence.

"Ooh child-- Back in the day, you'd be in some kind of trouble!" Said the old woman, and she winked and giggled.

When Lo was finished, he told the old woman that he knew her all right.

He knew that she was deeply kind and fiercely loyal.

That her life had known great sadness and great joy, and that she knew all too well that those two emotions rarely traveled alone. She loved little animals, old jazz and spring flowers- especially the apple blossom. And that her soul held something from an exotic land, and smelled distinctly of saffron.

"Ooh wee-- You _is_ good! I just _knew_ you would be."

Lo smiled at the old woman and tipped an imaginary hat.

"You grab that dish and bring it on in here. I'm gonna make you a big ol' sandwich!"

Lo felt himself start to get anxious, and told her that he'd better head-on back upstairs.

"Nonsense! You got all the time in the world sugar-- Besides, my Clementine won't be back until later, and we both know that's who you really hiding from... Not little ol' me and my big ol' club sandwiches."

She patted his ass and pointed to the dish.

Lo bent over and picked up the casserole dish, then followed her inside the apartment, feeling consciously that it was right where he wanted to be.

"Tiny, you have a phone call... I think it's your momma, girl." Said the receptionist, as she pushed the hold button on the phone with one of her long purple fingernails.

Clementine told the woman sitting in her chair to "read a mag" while she waited.

"Take your time, girl." Said the woman. Her hand was covered in thick gold jewelry as she waved it at Tiny in a gesture that meant do-what-you-gotta-do.

Clementine walked behind the desk, picked up the receiver and pushed the little button on the phone that was flashing red.

"Hello, this is Tiny."

"Tiny, it's me!" Said Elly. "Ooh baby, you wouldn't believe who was just down here having lunch with me!"

"Hi, Momma. I'm working, remember? Can we talk about this later, when I get home?"

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry." Said her mom. "But I done forgot that fancy cell phone number, so I just called the number on the chalkboard."

"I know, and that's real good-- That's what I want you to do when you forget. Everything's on the chalkboard. Just remember that and we're good."

"I made my club sandwiches!" Giggled Elly. "They were so good honey... We saved one for Antoine, when he gets home."

"Okay, Momma, sounds good-- Now I gotta go, but I'll see you later on this evening. Love you." Said Tiny, trying to speed up the conversation.

"Love you more, baby." Said Elly.

Tiny hung up the phone and inhaled deeply, thinking back to all of the club sandwiches she'd shared with her mom. It was funny how her mom could remember something a complicated as her famous club sandwich, but something as simple as remembering to lock the front door was another reminder on the chalkboard.

The receptionist spun around in her swivel chair and gave Tiny a quick squeeze on her hand while it was resting on the phones receiver.

"She's sounding real good lately, girl-- Real good." Said the receptionist.

"She _is_ doing good." Said Tiny, just as much to assure herself as to agree with the girl. "Real good."

Tiny walked back to the styling chair, as the woman she'd left to read a magazine was in the process of getting caped up by the shampoo girl.

"How's your momma doing?" Asked the woman.

"Better." Said Tiny. "The new medicine they have her on is working miracles."

"Hallelujah! Praise Jesus." Said the woman, waving her golden hand in the air again.

"Mm-hmm." Said Tiny. "Isn't that the truth."

### 4

"Holy shit! You were in her apartment yesterday?" Asked Jack, almost as if he couldn't believe it.

"Yep."

"With her mom?"

"Yep."

"And she wasn't there?"

"Nope."

"And her mom made you a fucking sandwich?"

"Yep."

"Oh my god!" Jack said laughing, with his hand over heart. "You have got to be shitting me! Who in the hell is this old broad? She's got balls of steel!"

"She does, Jack. She does." Lo said, smiling as he reached sideways across the counter and grabbed a couple of french fries off of Jack's plate.

"You should have heard all of the stuff we talked about-- It was fucking crazy."

"Like what?" Asked Jack. "Tell me!"

"Her childhood in Port-au-Prince for one. And believe me Jack, just from what I've seen in all of my years-- Anything to do with Haitian culture is heavy."

Jack sat wide eyed, listening.

"Her getting into New York and all of that shit-- It was tough, Jack... Tough and crazy and impressive."

Lo thought about the conversation he'd had with Elly.

She'd stood in front of the stove wearing a flowered apron and frying bacon in an old iron skillet, speaking to Lo shamelessly about "taking dates" as she called it, to make the rent.

Lo sat at her kitchen table listening and drinking sweet tea through a carnival straw.

He'd been surprised, but not shocked.

He was never shocked.

When she'd asked him if she was "stepping over the line," or making him feel uncomfortable in any way whatsoever, Lo shook his head at her hesitation and smiled at her genuinely.

"Ms. Elly." Said Lo. "Sometimes you do what you gotta do."

"Ooh-- Now isn't that the gospel, Mr. Lo... Ain't nothin' more true than that!" She threw her head back and laughed, while the bacon sizzled and popped.

He didn't tell Jack any of those details, even though he knew Jack wouldn't have been fazed in the least. Jack was another person that, when push came to shove, believed in doing what you have to do, regardless of public opinion.

"So her name's Clementine-- That's unusual... Kind of old-time sounding." Said Jack.

"Yeah-- I guess it is kind of old fashioned, isn't it?" Lo repeated the name over and over in his head.

They sat at the window counter eating their lunch, as the nameless drones of people walked by a foot away from their faces, but separated by a thick plate of glass.

"So I hate to bring this up, but I'm going to anyway." Said Jack.

"Oh great-- What is it?" Lo asked, bemused.

"The Met benefit-- It's less than three weeks away... Are you still coming?"

"Oh Jack, I don't know if I'm into it this year. Just go without me."

"Oh, believe me dick head, I'm going!" Said Jack, smirking. "With that bitchy red head from the gym I told you about."

Jack cleared his throat and tried to sound serious. "You did buy the whole table Lo, and it'd be fun if you showed-- So what the fuck?"

Lo was well aware of the table fact.

For ninety-seven years since the Met benefit started, he'd bought a table to show his support, and for ninety-seven years, different generations of the same families showed up to get a real good look at him.

Last year at the benefit, his date's expensive designer gown was so revealing that he'd actually been a little embarrassed.

She did laps around the room, mingling, as she called it, and no one, not one single person seemed to notice her amazingly toned thigh muscles; muscles that can only be obtained through long, committed hours of aerobic exercise.

Everyone was far too busy trying to size him up.

"Why do you even give a shit?" Said Jack, when he saw the dread creep across Lo's face. "It's not like you're a Kennedy or something."

Lo swallowed his mouth full of the meatloaf sandwich.

He shook his head back and forth, sucking soda through a straw and remembering the kind of pikers the Kennedy family originated from. People passed by outside on the sidewalk, oblivious to the historical truths being told.

"They were scary, dirty gypsies Jack... For real."

"Camelot my ass!" Jack said, grimacing and giggling.

When they were done, Jack took both of their food baskets and emptied them in the big brown trash receptacle, then stood waiting at the door, irritated, while Lo refilled his soda cup to the very top of the rim without spilling a drop.

"Will you at least think about it?" Asked Jack, holding the door open. "Because I'm telling you, you have to meet this Sheila girl... She's so fucking bossy, and it's so sexy, I swear!"

"Oh gee, I can't wait." Said Lo, sarcastically. "She sounds just lovely."

### 5

Lo jumped when he heard the knock at the door.

The clock on the cable box read 10:37, and he'd dozed off watching a rerun of Mash. He sat still in his lazy-boy, just to make sure it wasn't coming from another apartment.

Knock- knock- knock.

He pushed the leg rest in and walked to the door, stumbling over the pair of black suede pumas he'd left in the middle of the foyer.

When he put his eye to the peep hole, the tip of his tail twitched.

Holy shit! It's her. It has to be. All ninety eight pounds of her, thought Lo.

He felt his lower back getting hot.

Turning quickly, he assessed the apartment. It was doable.

He looked down at what he was wearing. His white undershirt had a couple spots of spaghetti sauce on the front from earlier in the evening, when he was too busy concentrating on Jeopardy's bonus round to mind the drips from the wooden spoon. His jeans looked fine. He adjusted his cock and brushed his hand over the denim just to make sure everything was in place before opening the door.

"Hello." Said Lo, in a voice so calm and collected it surprised him. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, you can help me." Said the woman standing in his doorway. She put one hand on her hip and the other gracefully across her chest. "My name's Clementine, and I live downstairs with my mom and my son. I'm the one that made you a housewarming casserole."

"Yeah-- Totally. Right, I know. It's nice to meet you, I'm Lo."

"Mm-hmm, so I've heard." Said Tiny.

She was wearing soft pink pajama bottoms and a matching pink tank top that read "foxy" across her chest in red sparkly letters.

Tiny cocked her head to the side and shifted her eyes to the door across the way. Lo felt the tip of his tail twitch again.

"Are you going to ask me inside, or are we going to talk out here? In front of everyone?"

The hallway was completely empty, but just the idea of having this woman in his house was enough to make Lo immediately take two steps back and pull the door wide open.

As soon as she walked into the room, the thick dewy smell of sweet clover filled the air.

Tiny walked barefoot through the entry way and into his living room. She stopped dead in the middle and stood quietly surveying the area with her back to Lo, then turned, ran her hands over her hips, and sat down on the sofa.

Lo stood at the door slouchy and stained, mesmerized by her self confidence.

"I'm sorry I just busted in on you like this." She said leaning back against his sofa. "But I think me and you need to talk while everyone's asleep downstairs." She pointed back and forth between the two of them, then pointed to the floor, gesturing to her apartment.

"Of course-- Definitely." Said Lo. The floor felt like it was covered in molasses as he walked towards her.

"Can I get you something? A beer? Some water... I think I might have a cold bottle of chardonnay." He heard the words leave his mouth and immediately felt like a bad joke.

"Ooh, yeah! Now that sounds good-- I'll take a glass of that chardonnay." Said Tiny crossing her legs and looking straight into his eyes. "You're going to join me with a glass, right?"

"Of course!" Lo sensed his tide of fortune change when she agreed to the Chardonnay.

He turned to get the wine and an image of a toe ring he'd glimpsed on one of her bare feet flashed through his brain.

Lo could have given Jack a thousand bucks for making him buy the "pussy wine", as Jack had called it, the last time they were at the overpriced wine store on the corner of Jack's block.

Jack stuck two bottles of the fancy Chardonnay with the abstract foil labels into the cart when they were browsing the aisles like an old married couple. Lo said it was stupid because he never had women over to his apartment anymore.

"You know why you don't have panties hanging from the chandelier?" Jack had asked Lo, smirking as he answered his own question. "Because you don't keep any kind of expensive Chardonnay in your fridge, idiot."

Lo pulled two of his best cut crystal wine glasses from the cabinet, and ran the bottom of his t-shirt around the rim of her glass while his back was turned towards the counter. He uncorked the wine and tried his best to make idle chit-chat and sound like a normal guy.

When he filled the age old glasses, he stopped right below the middle so he wouldn't seem like some kind of a creep trying to get a hundred pound woman sauced.

He handed Tiny a glass of wine and sat down across from her in one of the antique wing back chairs from Sue Ellen's estate. She leaned forward with a slightly raised eyebrow, touching her glass to his.

"To late nights." Said Tiny.

Her thick glossy lips pulled apart in a smile that looked like Sunday morning and sin, all at the same time.

"To late nights." Said Lo, and he drank back all but a tablespoon of the fancy foiled Chardonnay.

Tiny slid her legs up underneath her, like a cat, on the big, down filled sofa, sipping the wine and looking around his living room, taking it all in.

She was surprised by how ordinary he seemed. Just like any other blue-eyed white boy.

"So then... I guess I'll start." She leaned back against a toss pillow in the corner of the sofa.

Lo sat patiently waiting for her next words.

"I'm going to ask you this just once Lo-- Because I'm not playin' with you... What in the hell did you talk about with my mama yesterday?"

Lo heard the seriousness in her voice.

"Nothing really." He hoped his casual attitude would diffuse the situation that was unfolding on his sofa.

"Oh! Okay-- So it's gonna be like this." Tiny started to sit up on the sofa.

"No!" Said Lo, jumping up from the chair. "Please don't leave."

"I'm not leaving." Said Tiny, reaching for the wine bottle and giving Lo a subtle smirk, like she knew how much power she held over him from the minute she'd walked into his apartment.

"But I do need you to know and understand just a few simple little things about me." Tiny refilled both of their glasses with the fancy Chardonnay. "Don't fuck with my momma or my son. Ever... Other than that, me and you Lo, we're cool."

Lo relaxed the minute she said she wasn't leaving. Everything else was your basic female house rules. Straightforward and clean cut.

They stared at each other for a few seconds and it was settled. Lo would never bring her any trouble.

He stood up and walked over to the stereo.

"How about some music?"

"Ooh yeah-- let's." Said Tiny.

"Is Billie Holiday okay?" Asked Lo.

"Perfect."

Lo put on the disc and watched from his peripheral as Tiny stretched out on the sofa. She was cool incarnate.

"I'm feeling pretty good right now." Said Tiny, when Lo walked back and sat down in his chair.

"That's good--" Said Lo. "Me too."

The soft sound of old Jazz filled the room. He thought about starting a fire in the fireplace, but felt way too apprehensive about the statement it might make.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure." Said Lo, expecting the same kind of question he'd heard for a thousand years.

"Do you like R and B?" Asked Tiny.

"You mean like rhythm and blues?"

"Yeah."

"That's your personal question?"

"Yeah-- Because personally, I'm the only black person I know that doesn't like R and B... So I'm beginning to think there's something definitely wrong with me." She laid her head back on a toss pillow and giggled.

"But-- I'm not black." Said Lo. "So how would that help the debate?"

"It wouldn't." Said Tiny giggling. "But that information might be of use to you if ever you decide to make me a mix tape."

Lo had no idea what she was talking about.

"Oh my god! Do you remember those?" Laughed Tiny. "Making mix tapes-- That was so much fun... Damn! Stuff like that feels like a hundred years ago. I can't even remember the last time I laid my eyes on a cassette tape."

Lo couldn't take his eyes off of her. Plus, she was funny.

He remembered cassette tapes well enough, but he'd never, ever, made a "mix tape" for anyone.

The more he sat listening to her talk about it, the more he realized that it was something associated with mortal adolescence.

Adolescence was something he knew nothing about from personal experience, and very little from association.

They listened to the music and made casual conversation about her job as a hair stylist, and his work at the auction house. When the subject of Antoine's private school came up, Lo asked Tiny if he could ask her a personal question.

"Okay." Said Tiny, slightly guarded.

"Where's Antoine's father?"

"My mom didn't tell you?"

"No. I didn't ask."

"But she did tell you a lot about herself, right... About back in the day."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Did she tell you about taking dates?"

Lo tried to judge the expression on Tiny's face without moving a muscle on his own.

She sank deeper into the down cushions and closed her eyes, letting her perfectly arched foot move to the music that seeped from the speakers.

"Yep, she told me." Lo said, hesitating.

"Well-- Those dates, as she so pleasantly puts it, were mine. I hooked, not my mom. Her illness is such that she gets real confused... I'm the one that did those things, not her."

Lo sat stunned; holding his glass of wine and trying to look casual in his uptight, white bread, wing back chair.

"And for the record-- I was pretty high end." Tiny said, shamelessly. "I was never into drugs or anything like that. I just wanted the three of us to live in a decent place without all the ghetto shit... And Momma needed real medical care. Not the free clinics."

Lo let his mind drift.

He could imagine some rich bastard paying a lot of money for her. Probably wealthy white men, with wives and kids. The horns on his head that he'd been shaving down for years, started to itch as he thought about it.

"So is Antoine's father the one that left when Antoine was a baby?" Asked Lo.

"Yeah." Said Tiny. "He left when he saw Antoine's hand."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously-- But he's no good anyway, so I consider it a blessing." Said Tiny.

The disc player made a small whooshing sound and a couple of clicks as the second disc moved into place.

"Since we're putting things down on the record tonight." Said Lo. "I like your kid. He's pretty clever."

Tiny sat up on the sofa and downed her wine. She arched her back and rubbed her neck with her hands, then looked Lo straight in the eyes.

"Momma said that you could do magic."

Ice fell from the ice maker into the tray in the freezer, making a cracking noise in the kitchen. Lo noticed Tiny flinch ever so slightly, but her gaze didn't waiver a millimeter.

"Well-- Not really. I just did a couple of things to make her laugh." Said Lo. "When we were eating our sandwiches, she looked across the table at me like she wasn't sure what I was doing there. So I pulled some tricks out the old hat, so to speak."

"Can you pull a new hand for Antoine out of that old hat?" At that moment, everything in her being as a mother, was dead serious.

Lo shook his head back and forth real slow.

"Can't blame me for asking." Shrugged Tiny, as she stretched and walked her wine glass and the empty wine bottle to the kitchen sink.

Lo stood up and followed her to the kitchen.

When she turned from the sink, Lo was standing in front of the refrigerator, not sure what to do next.

"Thanks for letting me hang out up here tonight and bug you, Lo." Said Tiny, and she touched the middle of his chest, then tugged lightly on the bottom of the tee shirt.

Lo felt the warmth of her fingertips through the thin white cotton.

When she opened the door to leave, Lo walked up behind her and grabbed her hand in concern.

Tiny looked down at his hand holding hers, then looked up at him and smiled.

"What is it baby? Tell me." Said Tiny, slightly intoxicated.

"His hand-- I'd fix it, if I could." Lo said, flustered. "I've seen nature fuck with perfect things for thousands of years. Just please know I'd do it for you. Tonight... Right fucking now, if I could."

Tiny's eyes got glassy. She pulled his hand around her waist until it rested on the small of her back, then stood up on her tip toes and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Lo closed his eyes and let his entire body experience everything.

The warmth of her skin. The roundness of her breasts against his torso. Her delicate hips pressed into his upper thighs. Everything.

"I believe you." Said Tiny, softy into his ear, before she let go and wiped at her eyes.

Lo walked her half way down the staircase, then leaned over the stair rail and watched until she opened the door to her apartment.

"Goodnight." Said Lo, down over the rail.

"Night, night." Said Tiny, up into the corridor. "Call me."

### 6

In his dreams that night, men lined the ridge as far as Lo could see.

Most stood straight with their weapons to their side.

A few held flags strung with the King's colors, but the air on the ridge was still, and the silk hung like dirty rags at the end of the poles.

The horses wore hammered chest plates and chain mail, and the breath from their snouts turned to puffs of smoke in the frigid air, making them appear like iron dragons against the gray horizon.

His friend Samuel lay dead in a heap amongst a thousand.

When they saw Lo walk out of the forest and onto the battlefield, the soldiers stopped abruptly from picking the pockets of the corpses and scavenging weapons and ran back towards the ridge, looking quickly over their shoulders in panic, and tripping over the terrain of mud and human debris with such consistency that it appeared to be choreographed.

One bloody faced soldier, deafened from a blow to the ear and unable to hear the warning shouts, fell to his knees in horror when Lo tapped him on the shoulder and commanded assistance.

Lo and the man walked for an hour, over hundreds of frozen twisted limbs and pools of cold blood black from age, before finding his friend face down in the filth and fine armor.

One of the finest armourers in the village had made the armor, yet a half inch gap was all that was needed for the offending weapon to open an artery and lay waste his life, and when Lo bent down to turn Samuel over, Samuel's arm gave way from the socket from which it had been severed.

The soldiers face turned sickly as the arm rolled free from Samuel corpse and lay to rest against Lo's hoof.

He followed the man's gaze to the spot of resignation.

In Samuel's bloated, dirty hand lay a lock of his son's hair.

Lo pried it from his friends stiff fingers, and placed it inside of his robe.

The soldier looked away as Lo picked up Samuel's frozen broken body, and carried it rigid under his arm like a bent log.

When the Prince saw Lo had found what he came for, he sent a horse drawn cart with three men onto the field in an attempt to appease him.

Lo placed Samuel's body onto the cart, and immediately snapped the neck of one of the three men; watching as the man folded like a flimsy ribbon down onto the dirt.

The two remaining men stood in a horrified limbo of their own fate, as Lo placed the dead man on top of his friends frozen body, so the warmth would soften the limbs. This way, Samuel would be returned to his wife and child in a familiar, honorable state; instead of the contorted, broken angles of the unrecognizable.

Lo had stopped when he reached the top of the ridge and taken ten years from the Prince's remaining life. After Lo finished suckling the life from his lips, the Prince cried out just once in sorrow, and then in gratitude.

"For sparing my life, my Lord-- Take this... For your man's face." The Prince pulled a fine silk embroidered cloth from his breast plate, and with his head bowed, handed it to Lo.

Lo placed the cloth over Samuel's dead face and steered the horse drawn cart in the direction of the village, without once looking back in fear of anything.

When Lo woke in the morning, his thigh muscles felt tight and his mouth tasted of ancient hearth smoke and mutton.

He rubbed his eyes, stretched underneath the down comforter, and punched his pillow a couple of times before adjusting it underneath his neck.

Last night had gone well, thought Lo, as he stared up at the ceiling that had been plastered years ago with the strokes of an obviously skilled hand.

He thought about the hug Tiny had given him in the doorway. It had been years since a woman had hugged him like that. Hugged him, that is, for all of the _right_ reasons.

Certain types of women had thrown themselves at him for as long as he could remember.

They were always in search of some kind of a thrill or novelty. He'd actually had groupies back in the pagan days and briefly in the late sixties and early seventies. The idea of a woman so ridiculous made his stomach turn.

Jack thought Lo was the luckiest guy alive for this very reason. Insisting that if worse came to worse, and Lo was ever in an uncompromising situation, that Lo was to give the woman Jack's direct line, and he would take care of the "sick individual" personally.

He shifted on the bed, closed his eyes, and thought about Tiny's lower back.

It was silky like a peach, and Lo was sure he'd felt two little dimples on the small of the sway, right above her butt. He'd wanted to put his fingers on them, but would have chewed glass before he pulled anything on her that might make him appear- in any way- like some sort of a pervert.

Lo just stood there politely, with his hand in the exact spot she'd placed it, and let her do the rest.

Lo decided that her _rest_ , hadn't been so bad.

It wasn't like she'd given him one of those Victorian hugs, where women embracing other women would keep a good three inches of space in between their bodies and cheeks, while lightly patting each other on the back with rigid fingertips.

Tiny had given him full body contact. A good squeeze. And the place she'd rested his hand was bare skin, in between her soft pajama bottoms and sparkly tank top. She'd definitely felt comfortable enough to let him touch her bare skin.

That's a good sign, thought Lo, but... And he cringed at the next possibility. She definitely had a good buzz going.

He rubbed his eyes and tried not to think of all the men she must have slept with for money.

But who was he to judge?

If you filled his apartment with all of the men he'd killed, for one reason or another, over the centuries, it would be standing room only, if they could fit at all.

Still... He was a hopeless romantic.

Mrs. Bailey had recognized that quality in him from the beginning and admired it, and he had trusted her enough to share with her the deepest feelings of frustration that he carried inside of his heart.

The disappointment of not being able to have children or grow old with the same woman like so many mortal men take for granted.

"Nonsense my boy! Love is waiting for you out there... Somewhere." Said Mrs. Bailey, and she stood up aghast and adjusted her corset through her fine velvet gown. She then motioned in grand sweeping gestures towards the beveled glass picture window in her parlor that looked out over one of the finer neighborhoods in England. "Now quit acting defeatist, my dove, and go and get what is coming to you!"

Lo had believed her because she had openly and honestly believed every single, solitary, dramatic word of her own doctorate.

It was a quality he loved the most about some mortals.

### 7

"Antoine-- Come down from there this instant!" Said Miss Parker, his teacher at the exclusive Fishback Academy.

Antoine looked down into the play yard from the tree in which he was sitting.

Miss Parker and the rest of his classmates looked like ants. He stretched his neck and tried one more time to see the top of the brownstone apartment building, before methodically climbing down the tree, branch by branch.

Miss Parker's face was both anxious and relieved when his feet hit the dirt that surrounded the academy's prized silver maple.

"What on earth were you doing way up there?" She asked, trying her very best not to sound peeved.

"Just looking for the top of my roof." Said Antoine, totally oblivious to the commotion he'd caused.

Miss Parker clapped her hands and told the rest of the children to reflect on what they had all just experienced.

"Excitement and fear and curiosity." She said calmly. "Can all be harnessed into a more positive, constructive response in the future."

Antoine stood quietly listening while she did her thing, and said the kind of stuff that would only be said at _that_ kind of a school.

The academy's silver maple was the subject of the plien airs the children had been working on before the commotion, and as soon as Miss Parker finished speaking, they went back to their paint pallets and watercolor paper.

"I'm going to draw Antoine at the top of the tree!" Said an Asian girl with blunt bangs.

"Fantastic, Ling! Very in the moment." Miss Parker said to the girl.

Miss Parker extended her hand to Antoine.

"Now you know Antoine, that I respect and can relate to your athletic _joi de vivre_ , but there are limits, grave limits, to everyone's prowess."

Antoine gave her his best you're-so-crazy-but-I-understand-what-you're-saying look.

"You're one of the good ones, you know that, right?" Said Miss Parker under her breath, peering over her green plastic framed hipster glasses. She gave him a little pinch on his arm and told him to try and locate a _Chrysoperla Carnea_ , also known as the lace wing, hiding among the beautiful new spring buds on the maple tree.

Antoine ran to a branch trying to appease her, but just as much because he was kind of interested in the neon green lace wings.

Miss Parker gave him a thumbs up before subtly popping a piece of nicotine gum into her mouth and taking a seat on the bright yellow wrought iron bench next to Steve, or Mr. Halstead, a fellow teacher.

"What's up tiger-- How's your day going?" Miss Parker leaned into Steve's space on the bench and nudged his shoulder.

"They're sucking the life out of me Jules, what can I say."

They looked at each other and laughed a controlled laugh.

"God I know, right. If it's not one thing..." Said Jules, pointing in the air towards her seat mate.

"It's another thing altogether!" Steve said through clenched teeth, pulling her finger with his and finishing their inside joke.

They sat for a minute, silently watching the children like specimens under a microscope.

"Oh, man-- Did you hear?" She nudged his corduroy knee with her coffee mug until she was sure he was paying attention to what she saying. He moved his knee and tilted his head to her side to signal he was listening.

"Guess who Antoine's new neighbor is?" Said Jules.

"Who?" Asked Steve.

"Are you ready for this? You're going to be so jealous." Teased Jules.

"Who?"

"This is so huge!"

"Darn it Jules, you're killing me!" Laughed Steve.

"The devil."

Steve's head spun around like it was on a swivel.

"You're kidding me!"

"No, I'm not." Jules said, smiling.

"Darn it! I _am_ jealous... Oh my gosh, I'm so jealous!"

"I know, right?"

They sat staring off into their own imaginary world of what it would be like to have the devil himself as a neighbor.

"That doesn't sound right, Jules... What's he doing here? In Harlem?" Asked Steve, honestly confused.

"Look around sweetie pie... He's living the dream."

Steve leaned back again against the bench and put his hands behind his head, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"There's no way. I mean, that doesn't seem a little odd to you?"

Jules stretched her legs out for a second along side of his, then crossed them at the knee and adjusted her bright blue polka dot tights.

"Being a witness to all of eternity seems a little odd to me too, but you don't hear me complaining about it." Said Jules, using her best Groucho Marx voice.

### 8

"I believe it's an original. If it isn't, I highly doubt there are more than two."

Tap-tap-tip-tap.

Caroline was standing off to the side wearing a tight gray wool pencil skirt and a look of apprehension on her botoxed brow. Lo could sense the entire room was on it's best behavior, and no one, especially him wanted a repeat of last week's performance.

He casually glanced down at his watch, and the second he did, he overheard Caroline tell one of the staff to "run and get a glass of chilled water please, immediately."

It was funny how every now and then, throwing a fit to remind people who they were dealing with was still part of the game. You'd think that all of his bad behavior in the past, all of the documented, heavily detailed accounts throughout history would be more than enough for the present.

But it never, ever was.

Rome had to burn over and over and over.

Mortals forget. That's what they do. They think it can't possibly happen to them. _He_ couldn't possibly happen to them.

Lo knew exactly how the majority of people thought of him now, and he was okay with it.

He really was old hat. A sort of diluted symbolic figure head.

Once, when Jack was hammered, he'd compared Lo to the queen of England. They'd both about died laughing as soon as he said it, and bought a round of shots for the bar.

Making a toast- to long live the theater.

The next morning, when Jack was asleep on the sofa with a pretzel stuck to his cheek, and Lo was taking a shower, an image the queen waving from one of those elaborate gold carriages popped into his head and Lo almost cried.

"Here you go, Mr. Lo. I thought you might enjoy this." Caroline bent slightly at the waist and handed him the glass of chilled water she'd asked for. A delicately sliced cucumber sat floating on the top like a life preserver.

That's appropriate, thought Lo.

It seemed like lately all he was doing was hanging on until the next day. The next year. The next century.

Persevering for fuck sake.

He wished he could pop a Valium, like one of his old girlfriends back in the fifties used to do when she'd get jumpy, as she called it.

"I'm jumpy darling." She'd say. "I'm going to the powder room to pop a V."

Fifteen minutes later she was all smiles and up for anything. A real barrel of monkeys.

Drugs and alcohol had absolutely no effect on Lo.

He even tried smoking crack once, in a pathetic and desperate attempt at some sort of escape from his own thoughts. It did nothing except scare the shit out of three crack heads after he lost one of his shoes in a muddy alleyway, and stumbled over them on his walk home on one gnarled misshapen cloven hoof of a foot.

After laying their eyes on his foot, and watching him throw a five hundred pound dumpster against the brick wall of a building in a tantrum, he felt pretty confident that he'd scared at least one of them straight.

Lo drank simply for the sense of tradition. A familiar ritual, solid and unchanging, that was always there when he needed it. Like a faithful companion that never grew old, withered, and died.

"One more lot of four and your done, Mr. Lo." Said Caroline, in an encouraging tone, as though he was almost at the end of race.

"Great." Said Lo, and he sat down to wait while the men taking notes typed away on their tiny computers.

After a minute or two, he noticed the man he'd had words with the week before.

Russel Bird was over at one of the long mahogany desks near the the farthest corner of the room, speaking to a woman that was busy arranging the lot briefs and legal documents.

Lo nonchalantly looked to his right and left to see if anyone was watching, then casually stood up like he needed to stretch his lower back and made a beeline for Mr. Bird.

All of the eyes in the room started to shift their attention to his movement, so he stopped briefly to look at one of the items that was being positioned, just so, on one of the viewing pads. The man doing the set-up shot Lo a nervous glance, but didn't utter a sound.

Lo turned and slowly kept moving until he was within fifteen feet of the long desk.

The woman arranging the papers caught sight of him first, and straightened up immediately into an unnaturally rigid pose, while Mr. Bird extended his hand to Lo prematurely.

"Mr. Lo, so nice to see you." Said Mr. Bird. "Quite an interesting lot today, wouldn't you say?"

Lo shook his hand and agreed that the lot was indeed, quite interesting. After a minute of brief pleasantries, Lo got straight to his point.

"You know Russel-- I'm curious about something."

The woman's lips fell ever so slightly at the corners.

"Sir?" Said Mr. Bird.

"The stool." Lo said, flat out.

"Yes?" Mr. Bird said politely, as if waiting for Lo to finish his thought.

"What in the hell happened to it? Did it sell? Humor me for Christ sake."

"I afraid it did not, sir."

"Why?"

"It was pulled from the block, sir."

"Why was it pulled?"

"Owner discretion." Said Mr. Bird.

Lo knew that his detailed account and signature significantly changed the monetary worth of any item, especially of something so seemingly insignificant.

"Well, what can I say! Sucks for them." Said Lo, unapologetic.

The woman's face looked as though she might laugh. Lo was positive it was from the sheer tension of the conversation, and not from his off the cuff remark.

"For now." Said Mr. Bird, and the two little words turned the woman's face stone cold sober.

Lo stopped smiling and took a second to think about it before taking the bait.

"So they went to another house?"

"No, sir." Said Mr. Bird, soaking in every ounce of the satisfaction he was hoping for.

Lo was getting genuinely irritated with the way the conversation had turned. Images of tearing Russel's tongue from his head flashed through Lo brain, and the nubs of his horns started to feel like they were on fire.

"Are you going to tell me, or do I have to beg you for it Russel? Because believe me, you don't want to see me beg."

"I am sorry sir, but I thought you were aware." Mr. Birds facial expression and the tone of his voice had lost all of its smugness. "The item of your curiosity is being re-blocked on third of next month, and if there is..."

"Wait." Said Lo, blatantly interrupting him. "What's happening then?"

Mr. Birds face turned the most genuine Lo had ever seen it look.

"1650-1800-- African I believe. Along with some items from Port-au-Prince of early French influence... I will gladly endeavor to ascertain."

Why would that ridiculous little stool be in an African auction, thought Lo, starting to wonder if he was losing some of his edge.

He motioned for Caroline to bring him his satchel.

She was at his side in the blink of an eye, opening the worn leather bag and positioning it in front of him with the same care and precision of the man wearing the cotton gloves doing the item set up.

"Bear with me, will you Russel?" Said Lo, as he dug through the satchel, stuffed full of old papers and briefs, the majority of which he never even needed.

When he found the piece of paper describing the little stool, it was still crumpled up from where he'd jammed it in haste into the satchel. He read it over to assure his memory, then handed it to Mr. Bird.

"It says early English." Any bit of pretense in Lo's voice was gone.

"It does." Said Mr. Bird.

"Then why would it be sold in an eighteenth century African auction?"

"You, and only you, could have told us the truth to that query, sir." Said Mr. Bird, and he looked at Lo with soft, sincere eyes. The eyes a father would give to a son.

Lo's body started to feel tired all over, as the magnitude of his ability started to weigh in for the thousandth time.

Just once he wanted to be the one guessing and wondering and hypothesizing, instead of the one calling bullshit on the majority of history books.

"Where's the stool now, Russel?"

"It's been returned to the owners private storage, sir."

Lo knew from his years of doing this sort of work, that owner confidentiality was of the utmost of importance with all of the high end auction houses. He could burn the building down to the ground, and the house would still be hesitant to release the name of an items legal owner if said owner wished to remain anonymous.

The man who had been positioning the items on the viewing pads politely interrupted to inform Mr. Bird that the final lot was ready, and that the next verification session could proceed.

Everyone within earshot of Lo and Mr. Bird's conversation came to a stop, taking a much needed breath within the pause.

"May I ask you sir, with respect." Asked Mr. Bird, breaking the silence. "What is your concern for this specific item?"

Everyone's face turned towards Lo in complete agreement of the question.

And he didn't know just why the stool got under his skin.

It certainly wasn't the first object to make him run the gamut of unpleasant emotions, and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

Lo looked at the faces staring back at him.

The woman at the desk actually wore a look of sadness on her face, like she couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him.

"I haven't the slightest clue." Said Lo, loud enough so that everyone following the conversation could hear. "And I have to say to all of you-- That I wish I knew why I gave a damn, but I just do. For some odd reason that I can't explain, I care."

His brutal honesty caught everyone a little off guard, and there was an awkward silence.

"If I may make a suggestion, sir." Said Mr. Bird, clearing any emotion from his throat. "Please allow me and Mrs. Eaton to do some subtle digging, as some might say, on your behalf."

The woman at the desk perked up and looked at Mr. Bird with unexpected enthusiasm, then looked back at Lo.

"Thank you, Russell. Any help from you would be in the utmost of my appreciation." Said Lo, extending his hand to Mr. Bird graciously.

"Shall we continue with the final session?" Beamed Caroline, thrilled that everyone's head was still firmly attached to their shoulders.

"Let's." Said Lo.

"After you, sir." Said Mr. Bird.

### 9

"Psst, Ty." Said Tiny, whispering down the small hallway from the salon's break room.

Tyrone stood in front of his styling station, oblivious to anything but his own hair style in the mirror.

"Ty!" She said again, this time a little louder.

"I hear you, girlfriend-- And don't be hissing at me like some kind'a snake! I'm comin'."

Tyrone posed once more in the mirror before slinking across the salon floor like a fashion model on an imaginary runway.

"What you got for me, Peaches?" Ty asked Tiny, as she stood gracefully in a pair of high heeled leather boots, half in and half out of the doorway.

Tyrone was the only person she could trust with something as heavy as Lo.

He didn't judge anyone, and he'd let go of religion the day they kicked him out of the church choir back home in Mississippi for being, as he put it, too faggy for singing the gospel.

"I need to talk to you." Said Tiny. "For real."

"For real-- Ooh! Bitch, that sounds way too serious for up in here..." Tyrone fanned his face with his hand. "Let's roll out for a beverage."

"Cool." Said Tiny. "But I got a 2 o'clock weave and press."

"Let me go and grab myself a smokey treat for the road that lies ahead."

"You so crazy!" Giggled Tiny, as Tyrone walked over to his styling station and opened one of the drawers, pulling out a silver plated cigarette case inscribed on the front with a large capital T in curling calligraphy.

"Bring me back a latte, Ty!" Said the receptionist.

Tyrone waved the girl off like he didn't have the time to bring her back a latte, even though the girl knew he would regardless.

When they got to the cafe, Tiny ordered a half-caf with soy and Tyrone ordered a black coffee and white wine spritzer. He called it his wake-me-up-and-then-a-go-go.

"Spill it Tiny, we got fifty." Said Tyrone, meaning minutes.

Tiny wasn't sure where to start. She took a deep breath and pulled at the ends of her weave.

"I think-- I might of found a man I like."

"You and me both girl." Tyrone said, sarcastically. "Who is he?"

"Well--" Tiny said, almost whispering. "He lives in my building. He's in his mid to late thirties... He's white..."

"Ooh! Damn girl, a cracker!" Tyrone interrupted and took a sip of his spritzer, then chased it with a sip of his coffee. "That's a first for you, ain't it?"

Tiny tilted her head to the side, and gave him a wide eyed are-you-kidding-me look.

He shot her the same wide eyed look back.

"Now Peaches, you know I didn't mean literally... I remember you when."

They sat across the table from one another with a total understanding of her sordid past.

A waitress came by and refilled Tyrone's black coffee. He picked up the cup with an extended pinky, took a sip, sat the cup back down in the saucer just so, and gave Tiny a knowing smile.

"So." He said simply, without all of the slang and drama. "What do you _really_ want to talk to me about, Clementine? Here I am, and the clock's a tickin'."

Tiny put her hands to her face for a moment and rubbed her temples with her fingers. She smoothed her bangs, took another deep breath and told Tyrone who the cracker really was.

"Ooh wee dang! I'm gonna need me a smokey treat for this one!" A slight bemused grin crept slowly across his blank expression.

He told her to grab her bag and her half-calf, and they'd take their show outside to the tables on the sidewalk, where a smoker could still feel some love. After one smooth drag on the fancy french imported cigarette, Tyrone exhaled, leaving the air smelling of a mix between burning leaves and cinnamon.

"First and foremost-- Is he a good man? I mean apart from all the bullshit stories and such... Can you tell?"

"Yeah-- I think so.... I mean, I _really_ think so." Said Tiny.

Tyrone sat listening to his friend, and reading into her every word.

"We hung out a few nights ago-- And it was real nice, but it's all the crazy-ass stuff that I've been hearing from Momma and Antoine that's got me, well... Interested."

"What kind of _crazy_ - _ass_ stuff are we talking about?" Tyrone asked curiously, while taking another drag from the cigarette.

She thought about everything she'd been hearing about Lo from her mom and Antoine.

"Like crazy good-- Crazy smart... Crazy sweet." It was the only way to describe how she was feeling about the immortal cracker that had just moved into the top floor apartment.

Tyrone smiled and asked if he had a brother.

Tiny called him a fool, and told him to stop playin'.

On the way back to the salon, they stopped by a vendor to pick up a latte for the receptionist.

While the man who operated the coffee cart was capping the paper cup, Tyrone asked if she was going to keep a lid capped on her big news.

"Hell yes!" Tiny said, seriously. "I don't need nobody from the salon up in my personal business."

Tyrone giggled a sinister little giggle and said he loved it when a peach was full of secrets, instead of the usual pits.

### 10

Lo was living among monks in the French countryside outside of Paris when he met Samuel.

A knight, along with at least ten other soldiers, had been commissioned by a local monarch to raid the nearby monasteries and farms of their livestock and grain reserves.

It was a feeble attempt to help feed the troops that were in yet another battle, fueled solely by the greed of a local land baron.

They had surprised the monks in the early evening, just as they were finishing a day in the fields, working the land, by hand, and tirelessly singing in praise of a Lord Lo had never seen.

The foot soldiers lined the monks up in a row outside of the ancient stone hovel that the holy men were using as shelter.

Lo stood idle among the other monks, with his knees slightly bent so that the robes heavy cloth would hide his hooves.

The tattered hood hung heavily over his head, hiding his horns.

The knight accused an older monk, a man hunched over and weak from many years of labor, of hiding one of the two old milk cows in the forest, and knocked the old man across the face with a club, sending him to the ground with a broken jaw from which he could never recover.

Lo was already too familiar and callused by the never ending saga of human brutality.

He was content to remain crouched and hidden, that is, until Samuel came into the picture.

Samuel had been one of the soldiers collecting the monk's chickens stuffing them ass over teakettle into a dirt encrusted burlap sack. Snatching them up from the hard barren earth in which they had somehow managed, like the holy men, to peck out a meager existence.

When he chased one of the chickens to the very spot where the old monk lay motionless on the ground, he stood perplexed and shamed, trying to put the pieces together in his mind as to what had happened and why.

Lo could smell apprehension in the air, and sensed Samuel's fear of the knight that had displayed such cruelty.

Even so, Lo watched as Samuel picked the old man up off of the dirt and carried him quickly and quietly back into the stone hovel, where he laid the man down upon a straw mat in front of the fire.

Memory never served Lo well after the fact.

He remembers watching the knight pull Samuel from the stone hovel, throw him onto the dirt, and kick him in the stomach.

That was all he remembered.

At least well.

His last memory was of the knight laying dead with his wrists bound tightly behind his back, and the fine, feathery, ass end of a chicken sticking out of his mouth.

The man danced around the dirt like a puppet, helpless due to his bound hands and unable to remove the mottled brown bird that Lo had stuffed half way down his throat.

Not one of the foot soldiers had showed the slightest bit of despair for the knight's dire situation.

Lo did remember that the chicken was still kicking after serving its purpose, so he'd pulled the bird from the dead man's throat, knowing the value of a good laying hen.

It shook it's wet, feathery head the minute it's leathery feet hit the ground, flapping it's wings and pecking at Lo's hooves in disgust, before strutting away to join the others hens that were quickly finding their way out of the forgotten burlap sack.

Lo had the soldiers pay alms to the monks.

Anything that could quickly and quietly be sold off in the nearby villages for their basic survival.

The men did so willingly.

He had one of the monks roast a few squirrels from the traps they kept secretly hidden in the forest, while the finest cook among the lot, who just so happened to be Samuel, prepared a thick, earthy stew with barley and turnips.

They all ate thoughtfully and quietly, under their bewildering new circumstances; each contemplating the fate that might have been theirs if they had displayed the cruelty of their former master.

Around the fire, Samuel spoke to Lo about his life.

He was poor. His family was either dead or scattered. A soldier he was not. Not by choice at least, but he had to eat.

Lo could sense his constitution.

Samuel was sensitive and caring, and by some odd twist of nature that Lo had seen many times before and since, a little too feminine.

Lo didn't mind.

He took mortals for who they were, and if who they were was different from himself, then even the better.

He told Samuel not to worry about any further repercussion from anyone.

"Your cooking alone will keep you in my favor." Lo said, to lighten the moment. "And repercussion doesn't happen to people in my favor."

Samuel looked as if he might cry from relief.

Lo had wanted to tell him to toughen up, that it was important for him, in this barbaric place and time, to do so.

But he knew it wouldn't change things. Not really.

Some people just had the sad misfortune of being born into the wrong century.

And absolutely nothing could be done to change the fact.

Once, later on into their friendship, Samuel asked Lo if his being the way he was, an abomination, Sam had called himself, ever embarrassed Lo, or made Lo wish he'd never been a witness to the day at the monastery.

Lo told him the immortal truth about embarrassment of one's self.

That it was only for the very weak in spirit. The mortals who lived their lives to serve the meaningless planners of society. The irrelevant fucks that, regardless of title or wealth, marched along to their grave at the very same pace as the so called abominations they admonish.

"And besides..." Said Lo. "More women for me!"

### 11

Antoine sat at Lo's kitchen table, eating an ice cream sandwich and looking thoroughly comfortable in his surroundings.

"Mom told me to tell you to tell me to leave, if I start buggin." Said Antoine.

"She did, did she?"

"Yup."

Antoine asked politely if he could use one of the paper napkins stuffed underneath a paperweight at the end of the table, and Lo watched the kid as he unfolded the thin paper pleats and arranged it neatly across his lap.

Lo sat down across from him and fiddled with a twist tie that had been left on the table.

"So what's been going on with your grandma?" Asked Lo, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

"Nothin' much... Just being a grandma." Said Antoine, licking the ice cream from in between the sides of the cookie.

"She's a pretty hip lady." Said Lo.

"She is." Said Antoine.

"I wish I knew how to make her special BLT-- It would be nice to..."

"Don't you wanna know what my mom's been doing?" Antoine interrupted, the side of his lips starting to curl into a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin.

"Sure-- I guess." Said Lo, amazed that the kid could make him feel so ridiculous in his own home, at his own table, eating one of _his_ ice cream sandwiches.

Antoine wiped his entire mouth with the napkin, then placed it back on his lap.

"She's waiting for you to call her."

"Really?" Asked Lo, with a little too much curiosity in his voice. "Did she tell you that?"

"No. But I know my mom."

"But how do you know that she wants me to call her?"

"Cause she checks herself in the hall mirror, and puts on lip stuff before she walks out the door."

"I bet your mom always does that."

"She does... But not before she takes out the trash."

Lo laughed out loud, and told Antoine he'd better watch his P's and Q's.

"That sounds just like something Grandma would say!"

"I told you she was hip." Said Lo, and he walked to the freezer and tossed the kid another ice cream sandwich.

Antoine caught it with his good hand and asked Lo not to tell his grandma that he was up here pigging out on sweet stuff. Lo promised, then asked casually when his mom took the trash out.

"Later, after dinner time, probably around 7:00-- Sometimes 8:00."

Lo looked around for a pen, then wrote his cell number on the back of one of the napkins and handed it to the kid.

"I tell you what." Said Lo. "You call me when she's putting on her lip stuff, and I'll make sure I intercept her on the way to the dumpster."

Antoine stared at the phone number like it was something of the utmost in confidential.

"Better yet, you call me whenever you want... Mom or no mom, trash or no trash." Said Lo. "I mean were friends now, you and me, you can call me for sport."

"Really?" Antoine's face looked like he'd been handed the golden ticket.

"Really."

"Do you still want to hang out by the trash and wait for my mom?" Asked the kid.

Seeing himself through the eyes of someone so innocent was always humbling, even after a thousand years.

"Well, now that you've put it that way..." Lo shook his head, then winked at the kid. "Most definitely."

By 8:30 that evening Lo's phone hadn't rang.

By 10:30 he'd eaten a whole box of mac and cheese, filed his horns down until they bled, and spilled some beer on his Levis while fighting with the control arm on his lazy-boy.

When he heard the knock, he thought he might have been dreaming again.

"You waiting on me, trash man?" Tiny said with a smile when he opened the door.

She tugged on the bottom of his shirt once, and walked on through into his apartment, sitting in the exact same spot on the sofa she'd sat before, and curling her legs up underneath her like a cat.

Lo noticed that she was wearing some sort of a sparkly gloss on her lips.

It somehow made him feel more confident, like the ball was in his court and his court was always a good place to play.

"So the cat's out of the bag." Said Lo, as he headed to the refrigerator to evaluate the beverage situation.

"It's been out of the bag since I hit the front door at 6:10." Tiny giggled.

"You're kidding me... He told you?"

"Isn't that what I should be sayin?"

Lo wasn't exactly sure what she meant, so he decided to play dumb.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... My boo Antoine told you I was looking way too cute for the garbage."

"Were you?" Asked Lo.

"Maybe." Said Tiny. "What would you think of someone like me, doing something like that?"

Lo felt his lower back start to sweat, and he glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was still smiling.

She was.

He pulled the bottle of Vodka from the top shelf of the freezer and watched as she cleared the distance from the sofa to the counter, like each step was an individual photograph being filed somewhere deep in his memory.

"I think we're past cocktails, don't you." Said Tiny.

Lo nodded in agreement.

They were standing less than three feet apart when Tiny touched his hand and stood on her tip toes, kissing him ever so lightly on the lips.

Lo held onto her hand and kissed her back.

When the kiss was over, she leaned back against the counter. She looked at him, up and down, then _really_ looked at him, trying her best to see something deep inside.

"I like you, Lo." It sounded as if she wished she didn't. "You're different."

"That's putting it mildly." Said Lo. "But thank you. I like you too."

They stood in between the refrigerator and the counter, sizing each other up within the four feet of separation.

"Do you wanna do this." Said Tiny, more telling than asking.

Lo felt himself start to panic.

It must have shown across his face, because Tiny wrapped her arms around his neck like she did when they first met.

"What are you thinking, boo? Tell me." Tiny said softy, into his ear.

Lo closed his eyes.

"Do you know about me?" He asked her.

"I _want_ to know about you... And I want _you_ , to know about me."

They stood in the kitchen hugging, her bare feet on top of his black suede pumas.

He cringed when he had to break the warm silence with the basic facts, but he'd learned early on from some unfortunate incidents, that honestly was always the best policy when it came to women and his bedroom.

"I have a tail-- And fucked up feet... Hooves really. Those stories are true."

She squeezed him a little tighter and for a second, he thought it might have been the deal breaker, until she giggled into his neck.

"And I have an ass that won't quit-- So be ready!"

The sense of relief was overwhelming, but he pulled back from her embrace and leaned up against the refrigerator.

Lo had stopped leading women to his bedroom hundreds of years before.

He'd point them in the direction of his bedroom, then stand with his hands off of the prize and his eyes averted respectfully.

It was their one last chance to hit the ground running, so to speak, out the door proper- with no hard feelings.

Tiny was already out of her purple fuzzy sweat shorts and half way down the hall, walking seductively towards his bedroom before he even had a chance to avert respectfully.

By the time she hit the bed she was completely naked and good to go.

She was lovelier than Lo had imagined, and true to her word, her ass was a lethal weapon.

Lo had been on top, tender fucking her, as Jack called it, when Tiny pushed him off and climbed up onto her hands and knees.

"Don't pull my weave." She giggled.

"I won't, no way-- I won't." Lo wasn't sure what a weave was, but he promised not to pull on it all the same, as he mounted her from behind and slid his cock into her warm wetness.

He could tell she was enjoying herself and it was the most fun he'd had in many, many years.

Hands down.

"Do you want me to talk dirty?" She whispered.

"Whatever you want to do, just do it." Lo said panting, trying his best just to keep up with all of the movement from her hips.

She kept pulling her cunt forward, just to the tip of his cock, then sliding it back down while slowly wiggling her ass back and forth. It was everything he could do not to cum each time she did it.

"Ooh you feel so good baby..." Tiny squealed.

"Your cock is so hard..."

"You're bigger than all the rest..."

Lo felt the stubs of his horns get wildly hot.

He stopped for a second and tried to start again, but knew it was futile. He pulled his cock out and gently flipped her onto her back, in one motion, with one hand.

Her face looked ninety-eight percent confused, and two percent afraid.

"You don't have to work me." Said Lo, holding himself over her small body with one arm, and smoothing his hair back over the nubs of his horns with the other.

Her face went from confused, to embarrassed, to completely pissed off in the blink of an eye.

"I. Am not. Working you!" Tiny half shouted into his face. "Who do you think you are! Get off of me, now!"

Lo didn't move an inch.

"Now wait a minute-- Just... I did not mean for it to sound like that." He said calmly, his weight still firmly holding her down.

"Yeah! You did!" She was huffing and trying her best to squirm out from underneath him sideways. "I cannot _believe_ that you just said that to me!"

He shifted his weight to counter her squirm.

"Tiny! Stop-- For Christ sakes, I like you! More than you know... And yes, I probably did mean it that way. But _I_ need _you_ to know, that I don't require that shit. Believe me, I know who I am."

She stopped squirming and shut her eyes and lips tight, almost as if she were a child throwing a tantrum. He watched her chest rise and fall a couple of times, fast and furious like a animal.

When he saw a tear roll down her smooth brown cheek and get stuck in some of the smeared sparkly lip stuff, he immediately pulled himself up and off of her ninety eight pound body, and rolled over next to her on the bed in a heap of disappointment.

She pushed on his shoulder in anger, even though he was already on his side of the bed.

"I'm sorry that I made you cry." Said Lo, staring up at the ceiling and feeling like a real asshole. "But you have to understand that I don't want to think about all the rest of them."

She pulled the sheet up to her neck, like she was suddenly embarrassed by her nakedness.

"Honestly Clementine-- I might actually kill some dumb bastard if I knew that they'd fucked you.

I know that sounds crazy because I just met you, but I feel that insane about you already."

Lo felt like he was spinning.

"Or you know what? I wouldn't kill them, I'd just take away something they really cared about-- That's always better anyway."

He kept on talking while she ran her lacquered pink finger nails through her bangs, then sniffled and used the back of the sheet hem to dab under her eyes.

"Seriously-- I think about you all the time, ever since that first night you came upstairs... It's pathetic, really."

Lo was throwing all of his cards on the table.

"I was actually going to hang out around a bunch of trashcans in the hopes of running into you for fuck sake!"

Everything about the way he was acting was absurd, but it didn't matter. It felt good. Besides, he would have done just about anything to keep her in his bed, under his sheets, regardless of how pissed off she was or wasn't.

They laid together in a quiet truce on the bed.

Lo was on top of the covers with his tail relaxed and off to the side of the bed.

Tiny was underneath the sheet, with her hands crossed over her chest in defiance, but listening to his every word as she stared up at the ceiling.

It felt like the little amount of time they'd spent together; an hour of tension, an hour of fun, an hour of wanting- had come to this one very moment. Now stopped dead in its tracks. Waiting.

Lo reached his arm over and turned on the vintage metal oscillating fan that was sitting on his nightstand. The air moved around the room in small, precise pieces, like some sort of a silent treaty was being cut out by the fan's sharp blades and rationed.

Tiny sat up on the side of the bed with her back towards Lo. She sniffled again, and Lo watched as she pulled her shiny ebony hair to the one side of her shoulder. The skin on her back reminded him of cocoa beans. He gazed at it, thinking about the tangible meaning of the adjectives- smooth and flawless, and how just minutes before, he'd been touching the two words.

"Don't go." Said Lo, exhaling and staring back at up at the ceiling. "Let me me fix this... I can you know."

She turned, sniffed, and looked straight at him.

"Let me do it my way." Said Lo.

Tiny bit her lower lip, like she was thinking about every possible outcome.

"I'd burn a city down for one lousy chance."

She raised an eyebrow and he knew he was pushing it.

"What do you mean by let you fix it?" She asked, squinting at him like he was some sort of a deviant. "It sounds like some' m freaky... Like you use that magic Momma was talking about, and somehow make me forget everything that just happened up in here, and then surprise, surprise- You're all golden boy in the morning."

"No! God no." Said Lo, thinking about how awesome a power like that would be. "Just let me do my thing. Please Clementine... It's nothing freaky, I swear. Just let me try."

He never begged for anything.

A couple of minutes passed before she turned around again.

"You really hurt my feelings." Said Tiny, and her face looked like a little girl.

"I know."

"I was _trying_ to please you Lo."

"I know."

"Now I feel funny."

"I know."

"I feel totally dumb."

"Don't."

They sat staring at each other and she let the sheet fall like a surrender flag, exposing her breasts.

He reached out and put his hand on her soft, brown knee.

"I might have been workin' you, just a little bit..." Said Tiny, making a smidgen gesture with her fingers. "But just because I wanted to make you crazy."

"I know-- And you do, believe me Tiny... We hit a learning curve dead on. That's all it was."

She gave him a you-so-silly look and laid down next to him on the bed, shimming back up beside him.

"I think we should just lay here and chill. let's spoon for awhile." She said.

In all of his years, he'd never heard it called "spoon" before.

Lo closed his eyes and pulled her in close.

He smelled her hair and her skin.

He felt her back against his chest, and thought again about the words smooth and flawless. He forked his tongue and let it touch the back of her neck, so he could taste her essence.

Everything about this woman made Lo crazy. Proper crazy.

Lo felt his cock start to get hard, because her warm ass felt too good pushed up against it.

"I'm guessing that spoon time's over." Tiny said giggling, obviously back to her confident self.

Lo told her that he was an asshole, and that it'd go away in a minute, as soon as he thought about baseball or an upcoming auction.

"You know what." Said Tiny. "I'm good-- let's go... You show me your way now. I want you to."

"You know what." Said Lo, leaning up. "You're really fucking cool."

"You have no idea, baby." Said Tiny.

Lo rubbed her ass gently, feeling pretty sure that he knew.

### 12

He slept like a dead man. At least what he'd imagined being a dead man must feel like.

Tiny was gone, but everything about his apartment felt different. It was as if some sort of an odd, but natural occurrence had taken place there while he was sleeping.

Like the swallows to Capistrano, or a swarm of seven year locus.

She left a half eaten banana on the counter top, with a note underneath it written on a piece of scrap paper. He read the note and ate the leftover banana. It tasted more like her than banana.

"I like your way better." Was all the note read.

He smelled the note, then stuck it in a special book. An original hand illustrated copy of Alice in Wonderland that once belonged to Sue Ellen when she was a child. He remembered reading it to her and being able to relate to Alice more than he cared to admit.

His life often felt that strange and surreal, like nothing was ever quite what it seemed.

I. Like. Your. Way. Better.

Lo thought about those five words over and over when he was taking a shower.

He'd really tried, and it had really worked.

But it had worked because of her, thought Lo, just being honest with himself.

The fact of something so personally emotional being so out of his control, hit him like a ton of bricks anyway. She was part of the equation. Not a sum.

He and Tiny had hit it high-school style.

Which was one of Jack's philosophies about sex.

"High-school style is the best way!" Said Jack, and his eyes would light up. "The only problem is that it's harder than hell to find someone-- Someone fun like that... Someone that cool. A girl like that is a needle in a hay stack, my friend."

Lo wasn't completely sure what he'd meant, until right at the exact moment with Tiny when he felt nothing less than- Perfect.

Having sex with Tiny was having sex high-school style.

She was cool as a cucumber. And silly. They must have laughed just as much as they'd gotten down and dirty.

At one point, his tail got caught up in her weave, and Tiny had to bring Lo up to speed in the art and expense of hair extensions. He tried to remove it from her hair as carefully as he could while simultaneously sporting a full on boner. She laughed the entire time and said, "Gently baby, no pull."

When the dirty talk started, it was for real. Which, in turn, made it almost charming.

She asked him to suck on her tits while she came on top of him, because it made her pussy pop.

She counted her orgasms out loud after each moan and squeal, saying she was just trying to get her money's worth.

After number five, Tiny told him she wanted to make him cum any way he saw fit.

Lo knew the minute the words crossed her lips that she meant it. Really meant it. And that he would never be able to hear that expression again, for the rest of eternity, without wanting to ejaculate.

He wanted her on her hands and knees.

This time he molded his body around her's, and came inside of her for what felt like an hour. She'd arched her back and grabbed onto his brass bed post mid stride, reminding him of something a wild horse might do if someone tried to break it on anything other than it's own terms.

When they were done, he'd released his grip and she fell forward onto her stomach, totally relaxed.

"Now I'm in the mood for some kind of a drink that hasn't been invented yet... Like water mixed with honey, but kinda fruity." Said Tiny, as she stretched out on the sheet. Lo couldn't have agreed more.

It was like she made him feel sort of normal, for the first time ever in his memory of existence.

He rolled over onto his back closing his eyes to savor how good it felt, while she splashed around in his shower like a little bird.

She dropped the towel on the floor and walked completely naked into his kitchen, crushing some ice cubes with the bottom of a pickle jar while making them a concoction of cherry 7up, orange juice and green Gatorade.

It'd tasted like nectar.

Lo was fast asleep by the time she fluffed the covers back into place and slid his pillow halfway under his head.

Tiny spent the good part of an hour chewing on the last of the ice chips, rubbing on his thick tail, and trying in vain to figure out what was going on with his hoof like feet; before falling asleep beside him, exhausted from good sex and too much stimulus.

The sun was just starting to peak through the blinds when she woke and realized that she'd fucked the devil- and liked it.

She studied his face in the soft morning light, and just how different he was, started to consciously sink in.

He was handsome, and he would always be handsome. He was clever, and he would always be clever.

And she was just waiting around for father time to fuck-up her world.

Tiny picked up her fuzzy shorts and her tee-shirt, and headed for the living room to get dressed.

She pulled a banana free from the bunch on the counter top, and sat down on a bar stool looking around the room. Except for a few antiques, and two or three items that for a million dollars she couldn't have guessed what they were, it all looked like normal guy stuff.

A classy, educated guy- but normal none the less.

She put down the half eaten banana and looked around for a piece of paper.

You have to leave something, she told herself. He's real sweet, and you came five times.

That was a record for her.

She closed her eyes and listened to the silence, and the sun, and the smell of him still all over her.

I like it your way.

She laid the piece of paper under the half eaten banana, then tiptoed downstairs to her apartment and stuck the key into the deadbolt, turning it ever so slowly and carefully, as to not make a sound.

Antoine was asleep underneath his plaid down comforter, wearing a tee shirt that read- born to shop, and looking as innocent as the day he'd come into the world.

She noticed Lo's cell number was dead in the center of his cork-board.

Antoine had tacked up a picture of Lo that he'd found somewhere in a society column on line, and printed out from his computer in a basic black and white ink.

The picture looked nothing like the man she knew.

Nothing like the man that was funny, and kind to her son, and did magic tricks for her confused mother.

Nothing like the man she'd just let touch her all over, in private, until she'd screamed with delight.

This man looked sullen and agitated, with his head down and his eyes averted. He was obviously trying to avoid the photographer and anything to do with publicity.

She crept out of Antoine's room and into the bathroom, where she started to run a hot bath, complete with Mr. Bubble.

Her mom peaked in the bathroom and asked her how girls-night-out went.

"Fun." Said Tiny, looking at her face in the mirror.

Standing at the doorway in her chenille bathrobe, her mom looked just as innocent as Antoine.

"Actually-- I take that back Momma. It was really fun!" Smiled Tiny. "I tried some new things, and met some new people."

"Ooh wee, now that's what I like to hear!" Elly said proudly. "My girls out there living her life and enjoying every minute of it."

Tiny giggled. "Mm-hmm... You got that right."

Her mom turned on the overhead fan before shutting the bathroom door to a crack and shuffling off to the kitchen to get breakfast started.

Tiny pulled her bangs back from her forehead with a plastic clip, then pinned her hair up on the top of her head and sunk slowly down into the kaleidoscope of bubbles.

So what if he's the devil. All that didn't mean anything anymore.

So what if people would talk shit. People always talked shit.

She'd been on the down low, as they say, taking care of business all of her life, and look where it had gotten her. Flying right was overrated.

She wanted a man. A real man. And to Tiny, Lo felt nothin' but real.

### 13

"Holy shit!" Said Jack, coughing from shock and laughing into his napkin.

"Oh yeah-- It's on Jack... And for the record, I really like this woman, so act right." Said Lo, as he stared out of the window at the cafe on 47th.

"Oh my god, I'm dying! This is the funniest news I've heard in months." Jack said, between coughs.

Lo sat silently staring.

"What's up buddy? What's going on in there deep inside? Tell uncle Jack." Jack leaned over and and poked Lo's heart with his finger.

Lo pushed his hand away.

"Wow." Said Jack. "This one's for real."

Lo rubbed his eyes and shook his head like he was getting exasperated.

"I'm sorry-- I'm here for you... You know I love you, I'm just being a dick."

"I know." Said Lo.

Lo knew Jack was the one and only person on the planet that if he were a mortal man, and subject to mortal laws, would willingly help him throw a body into the river. No questions asked.

"Okay! So we're good. Now you can continue telling me about your big, personal, overblown drama." Said Jack. His rebound rate was astounding.

"I just don't want to fuck this up." Lo said, simply.

"How could you? You're you. And if you've already fucked her, then believe me big guy, she saw your feet."

"God I know, right? And it didn't even seem to faze her."

"Oh yeah! You scored big time." Said Jack, giving Lo a thumbs up. "You got yourself a game face girl-- Worth her weight in gold, my friend."

Lo poured ranch dressing all over his chopped salad and tried to relax and find some humor in the-world-of-woman-wisdom according to Jack.

"She rubbed my tail when I sleeping."

"Holy shit, really!" Said Jack, in a hushed tone. "She's game face _and_ kinky."

Lo laughed and stuck a cherry tomato into his mouth, then shook his head back and forth while he chewed.

"No, no-- Not really, but she's fun... I think she's high-school style." Said Lo.

Jack sat up and smoothed his tie, then looked across the table at Lo. His face was as serious as Lo had ever seen it outside of Jack's office.

"Are you trying to hurt me, mother fucker?" Asked Jack. He said it like he was negotiating.

"Game face _and_ high-school style-- You're done my friend! Marry that bitch. Do it. Smartest move you'll ever make." Said Jack.

Lo had been a witness to the whole institution of marriage for longer then he could remember.

In all different kinds of places and in all different kinds of cultures.

He sometimes imagined what it must feel like to love, and fuck, and take care of your very own wife, though he felt pretty confident saying that the woman, for the most part, got the short end of the stick.

Once when Lo had been sitting on a bench in a tiny town in Sicily, he watched a wedding procession so pure and graceful, that he'd actually felt sick to his stomach from jealously as they approached.

He'd split his pupils so he could see the beautiful young lovers as they would look when they grew old. Even still, they were ridiculously handsome because of the love they shared.

It had made him so ashamed of himself that when the young groom walked slowly by holding his brides hand, Lo stuck an insane amount of money into the grooms other hand and walked away. It left the young lovers in total shock of their mysterious good fortune, and allowed him to feel somewhat less of an killjoy.

That prick Dominique said once in a casual conversation that his wife was a lot like his dog, only he never dreamed of kicking his dog.

Lo wondered if their brief, violent encounter twenty years before had softened him in any way.

Probably not, thought Lo.

Once a prick, always a prick.

But he took a little pleasure in the fact that Dominique's heart was on its way out. He'd felt it through Dominique's silk shirt the day he jumped on the man's desk and damn near sent him packing.

By Lo's calculations he had about a year left.

Sayonara, mother fucker, thought Lo. I'm sure your wife will get a big kick out of your millions.

"What are you thinking about?" Asked Jack, moving his empty sandwich plate to the corner of the table, and replacing it with a plate holding a giant piece of chocolate cream pie. "Your face looks kind of sinister."

Jack loved anything about Lo that could possibly be perceived as demonic.

"The MET dinner." Lo said, lying. "I'm going to ask her if she wants to go with me."

"Cool!" Said Jack, and whipped cream lined his lips. "You know we'll have a good time."

Lo wished he'd asked her to go with him to the party when they were drinking their post-sex-liquid-restorative, as Tiny had called it. He'd taken three big gulps, then watched her sip the concoction sitting naked, Indian style on the bed, while flipping through one of the auction houses master lists.

"She might be busy or something, so don't get too fired up." Lo said, sounding defeatist.

"Oh yeah, she seemed real busy last night up in your bedroom."

Lo shook his head again, vexed.

"Don't worry so much big guy! You're you and I'm me, and you could make me suffer a horrific death and no one could do a damn thing about it. So yes, you bet your ass I'll 'act right' as you put it earlier, and don't think for a second I didn't catch that one. Right as rain I'll be. That is, until-- Your lovely lady friend goes to the can. Then I'm politely asking my bitchy redhead to blow me under the table."

Jack barely made it to the end of his declaration before they both burst out laughing.

### 14

"Hi, Elly-- Remember me? I'm Lo, your upstairs neighbor. Is Tiny home? I live upstairs."

Lo was standing outside of Tiny's apartment, suddenly unsure if he'd made the right decision to invade on her territory.

Elly smiled up into his face. She was holding a fly-swatter and wearing her apron along with the look of question in her eyes.

"I'm a friend of Tiny's. A friend of your daughter Clementine... And Antoine."

The old woman threw her head back and said, "I love Antoine! He is such a good boy."

Lo agreed with her wholeheartedly.

She swatted at his backside and told him to get-up-on-in-here.

Lo walked past her and went immediately to the kitchen table thinking it might help her remember who he was. She poured him a glass of milk complete with a curly straw, and put a couple of chips ahoy cookies on a napkin in front of him. He sipped the milk slowly, and they both watched as the creamy liquid did loop-da-loops through the blue tinted plastic.

"So what grade are you in sweetie? I sure hope those teachers are being nice to someone a cute as you..."

Lo assured her they were being really nice to him.

He glanced at his watch while he ate one of the cookies. He was sure Tiny would have been home by now, or he would have never pulled something like this without calling her first, but he'd realized earlier that day that he didn't have her phone number.

After calling half of the beauty salons in Harlem with no luck, he said fuck it. He put on an oxford shirt and waited until 7:00 in the evening, then walked downstairs.

The telephone rang and Elly looked around curiously for a second. "Ooh wee! That's the telephone ringing!"

Lo watched as the woman shuffled over by the refrigerator and answered the bright yellow wall phone that was attached by a long curly cord. He noticed the amount of neon colored post-it notes, reminding Elly of exactly what certain things were, and where they were kept, had increased from the last time he was in their kitchen.

"Hi, baby!" Said Elly. "How's your day going at the beauty parlor?"

Lo's ears perked up.

"I'm fine baby, just swattin' me some big ol' flys!" She looked over at Lo, waving the swatter and smiling.

Elly stood listening to Tiny's voice on the other end of the phone for a couple of minutes.

"Okay sweetie-- That sounds real fun... You tell Tyrone to take real good care of you tonight and I'll see you in the morning."

Lo's heart sank.

"Yes, yes..." Elly continued. "I'll do my check list, and so will our sweet baby Antoine when he gets home from trumpet trooping at the Y. You go live it up, and have Ty feed you! You're too skinny, sweetie. I will... I do... Bye-bye now."

It was everything Lo could do to not punch his fist through their sunflower print wall paper.

When Elly hung the phone up, she giggled the same giggle as Tiny, and asked Lo if he wanted another cookie.

Lo stood up like he was on auto pilot and politely said that he needed to go home.

Elly shuffled to the door with him, telling him to come and visit her anytime his little ol' heart desired.

Lo bent down and hugged her. She giggled. When he let her go, he casually asked what her daughter Clementine was up to tonight.

"She's living it up with Tyrone! He is just such a nice man... Don't you think so?"

His horns felt like lava.

"Oh yes! Absolutely!" Said Lo, unintentionally sounding like a cartoon character. "He is just such. A nice. Man."

Elly swatted him on the way out and Lo reminded her to use the deadbolt. He stood and waited until he heard it click.

Lo took the stairs up to his apartment three at a time.

The first thing he did when he closed the front door was pull off his chinos and unwrap his tail. He took out a three foot two-by-four he kept under his bed, and cracked his ankles over the board until the 90 degree angle was straight as stick, like a horses hoof and foreleg.

He could have torn the ass end off of a rhino, but at least he was comfortable.

He paced the floor, standing like a satyr and sounding like a police horse.

When he realized he'd been chewing on the two-by-four for an hour, and splints of gnarled wood littered the living room, he walked to the shower and cried. Completely devastated by the thought of her with another man.

She'd played him.

Lo ripped the sheets he'd been coveting like a piece of sacred cloth off of the bed, and threw them down the trash shoot.

He laid naked on top of the bare mattress, staring at the ceiling with his hooves hanging off the end of the bed and his tongue forked and hanging like a piece of raw bacon out of the side of his mouth.

He wished he were fucking dead. Real man dead.

The clock read 11:34.

He'd spent hours thinking about various ways to kill Tyrone.

Hundreds of ways; sick, horrific, medieval type things that hadn't even made it into the history books.

Tiny. Lo couldn't even focus on the thought of her.

It was too much.

Just thinking about her laying on his bed, all sweet and lovely, while he fucked her, made him want to kill an army of men. An army of Tyrones.

She'd worked him.

He wanted to fucking die.

Lo put a pillow over his face and started to cry again when he heard a light knock on his door.

In a split second, he was up on his hooves and looking like a mortals worst nightmare.

Clip. Clop.

Lo stopped and stood in the hallway, looking at the door and breathing in deep. It was Clementine. He could have smelled her a mile away.

"Let me in Lo." Tiny whispered. "I have something to show you!"

Clip clop, clip clop. Clip. Clop.

When he swung the door open Tiny's face looked surprised, but not scared.

Her mouth fell open slightly in shock. She looked side to side, then pushed him farther back into his apartment and away from the open view of the public corridor.

"Baby! Your naked..."

Her face looked worried, and her jet-black hair was freshly cut and styled to look like Cleopatra.

Tiny looked down at his hooves.

"And what in the hell did you do to your ankles? Does it hurt? Oh my god! Your lips are all cut up-- You look bigger... Did something funky happen to you today?"

She turned and did a double take when she saw all of the wood chips, broken beer bottles and a couple toss pillows he'd torn apart with his bare hands and forgotten about.

"Lo!"

Tiny threw her purse and a tote bag onto the table. He noticed it was stuffed with groceries.

"You're scaring me Lo! What in the hell happened in here?"

Lo stood motionless, like a horrific statue.

She looked at him, then started to take off her clothes.

Lo didn't move.

She took everything off except for her high heeled python shoes.

Fearlessly, she crossed the floor and stood in front of him, statuesque and lovely.

"I'm naked, you're naked." Tiny said softly, staring up into his eyes.

"I'm taller, you're taller." She whispered.

"Now what in the world is going on with you? Tell me Lo."

Lo crossed his arms over his chest, and the tip of his tail pierced the wood floor like an ice pick.

Tiny didn't flinch.

"Who's Tyrone?" Asked Lo, his tongue still forked.

Tiny's eyebrows furrowed.

She put her hand up to her lips and started to giggle, until she noticed Lo's expression looked broken and his eyes had shifted to the floor and started to well. She moved in closer and touched his bicep lightly. He uncrossed his arms and let them fall to his sides in defeat. She put her hand on the middle of his chest, then touched his torn up lips lightly with her fingertips.

Lo let her.

Tiny told him to look at her.

He did.

"Tyrone is my best friend-- And he's gayer than gay... He's the one that did my hair for me tonight because I wanted to surprise you with something more user friendly."

Tiny pulled on Lo's tail to remind him of the tangled hair situation, as she rested her forehead in the middle his chest.

"I told Momma I was crashing at his house tonight, so I could crash at yours and make us a midnight snack."

Lo swallowed hard and stood there with her head on his chest, feeling like a gross exaggeration of the stereotypical mortal male.

Tiny led him to the sofa, sat him down, and kicked off her heels.

He was so embarrassed, he could barely look at her.

"Now here's what going to happen-- I'm going to give you a blow job, wipe the blood off your face, then clean up this mess." Said Tiny.

"Is there anything about those three things that you don't understand?"

Lo shook his head that he understood.

Tiny looked around at the floor and put one of the torn up pillows under her knees.

"I'm guessing this one wasn't a favorite." She said giggling, then motioned with her newly red fingertips that it wasn't funny, and she shouldn't be laughing at the casualties of his bad day.

He grinned down at her anyway.

She stood up on her knees, against the sofa and kissed him hard. She licked his cuts like they were wounds and kissed him hard again, sucking on his tongue, then pulled his legs apart and started sucking his cock just as hard.

Passing out was a solid option. But he didn't.

Lo could barely watch as her head moved up and down on his cock, and her tits bounced on either side of three thick gold necklaces dangling like carrots between her chest.

She looked like an Egyptian goddess that had come to life just to pleasure him.

It took everything he had left in him not to cum.

Lo gently pulled her head off of his cock and held her face in his hands. He was completely in love with this woman in less than two weeks.

She put her hands over his and smiled wide, her lips wet with saliva.

Lo stood up on his hooves, looking massive in comparison. She crouched down even further and licked the skin on his fucked up ankles.

He put his hands on his hips, and watched her in amazement.

This girl was his queen. She was the one. No doubt about it.

He picked her up from the floor and sat her down on his wing back chair.

She leaned back against the silk brocade and crossed her legs at the ankles, then smiled at him sweetly, like she was at a tea party.

He felt crazy.

He felt like the devil.

He felt like himself, for fuck sake.

Lo carried her to the bed and laid her down on the bare mattress like she was a fine piece of china.

She rubbed her hands over the hard quilted surface and said, "Uh oh-- What happened to the sheets? My boo went crazy today."

Lo carefully climbed on top of her and kissed her lips as gently as he could. She kissed him back, just as softly.

He touched her with his fingers, then pushed his cock inside and after a few thrusts she was coming. She wrapped her legs and arms around his torso and Lo kept pushing, slow and steady until he felt her relax and uncoil like a snake.

Lo leaned up and caught a glimpse of their shadow on the wall.

Tiny looked so small and delicate compared to himself that it was almost unnerving.

His muscles were totally swollen from being angry, and his neck and back were thicker and broader. It happened on occasion when he became infuriated. He'd almost forgotten about it, like guillotines or chariot races.

Jack had called it hulking, and asked him if he ever turned green.

Tiny was slowly catching her breath underneath him. He rolled over on his side, just to look at her, and she rolled over to face him.

"I know I look scary... It'll go away in a day or two." Said Lo.

"Do you like my hair?"

"It's looks beautiful on you."

"Do you like my red manicure."

"I like everything about you."

"Are your feet going to be okay?"

"Yeah... I can fix them. It's just a pain in the ass. I have to brake the ankles."

"Oh my god! Are you serious?" Tiny was rubbing his hip under the sheet.

"It'll take a day. It's just annoying... It's not painful."

"How can braking your ankles not be painful?"

"I don't feel pain. Not physically."

"Really-- Damn, that's wild." She'd moved her hand down to his thigh.

Lo rolled over onto his back and turned on the oscillating fan.

Tiny snuggled up next to him. He put his arm under her neck and around her shoulder as she rubbed his stomach.

"I have to tell you Clementine... That about killed me today." Said Lo, staring up at the ceiling.

"Oh, baby, I know."

"Look-- I know it's totally my fault for acting like an idiot, but your mom's so sweet... And she gave me cookies... And I heard her on the phone with you talking about some other guy. And I'm not kidding you Tiny, it about killed me."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"I don't want you to think I'm spying on you or anything, but I didn't have your phone number and I called every fucking hair salon... I really thought you were going to be home by then."

"My baby called salons looking for me?"

"Yes! Of course... I even waited on the stairs for Antoine to get home from school, but he didn't."

"Trumpet trooping." Giggled Tiny.

"Trumpet trooping." Lo said, rubbing her shoulder. "It's cool that he can play an instrument."

"He loves it, bless his heart, and it's free, thank god... Someday I'm going to get him real lessons."

She'd moved down from his stomach and slowly but surely, her hand found it's way to his cock.

He told her that he needed her to sit up for him, and she sat up.

Lo moved to the side of the bed and sat with his hooves pressed firmly on the floor.

"Come and sit on my lap, Tiny."

Tiny crawled across the bed and sat on his lap.

"I need you to really listen to me for a minute." Said Lo.

"Okay."

"If you break my heart, you will be my downfall. I know it."

"I will?" Asked Tiny.

"Yes."

She kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Don't break my heart Clementine." Said Lo.

"I won't."

They sat there for a moment in an understanding silence, then he bounced her on his knee to lighten the moment.

Tiny giggled and licked her full lips.

"Will you do something for me?" She asked.

Lo was hard in three seconds flat.

She straddled him like a horse and slid his cock inside of her.

"I want you to cum with me." She said, her eyes looked glassy with pleasure.

"Oh, god yes." Said Lo. "You just give me a sign."

They moved together in synch, like a perfectly calibrated machine.

"I'm gonna need you to treat me right, Lo." Said Tiny, as her head rolled back and the artery on her neck pulsed like an African drum beat.

"I will."

"Watch out for me and mine."

"I will."

"Always." She said, then moaned.

"Forever."

Her head snapped up and looked him in the eyes.

"I'm ready baby." She whispered.

They came together, slowly and methodically.

Lo felt her take something intangible and important of his into her soul. Something that no other woman had ever been able to find.

"Are you hungry?" She asked, leaning back, still straddling his legs. Her hair brushed the top of her shoulders like shiny black feathers.

"I could eat."

Lo could always eat.

Tiny jumped off of his lap and wiped herself clean with a pair of his boxer shorts that were on the floor. She threw them into the wicker clothes basket in the bathroom, then walked out of the bedroom sliding into the oxford shirt he'd torn off in his moment of rage, sending the buttons flying across the room.

"Do you want to go to a party with me this Saturday night?"

"Okay." Tiny yelled back.

He heard the broom closet open and the vacuum cleaner turn on. He smiled at her thoroughness and laid back, rubbing some of the soreness out of his stubs.

They sat in bed eating the cheese and fruit she'd brought over and fixed up real fancy on one of his plates.

Tiny tore a piece of bread from the baguette, then handed it to him and brushed the crumbs from her naked thighs onto the floor.

"What should I wear?" She asked, sucking the blue cheese out of an olive.

"I'll buy you whatever you want."

"I have fancy clothes."

He imagined a closet full of expensive designer dresses bought by other men. Touched by other men.

"How about this--" Said Lo, carefully choosing each of his words. "You and Tyrone go shopping on me. I feel like I owe it to him. For, you know... Doing your hair."

She looked at him like she could see right through his bull shit.

"That sounds a little crazy to me, Lo." Said Tiny, nibbling on a piece of gouda.

"Just do it Tiny... Please."

"I will! If it'll keep you on the good side of crazy." She laughed and picked a crumb off of the clean set of sheets Lo had put on the bed when she was in the kitchen.

"Wait a minute--" Said Tiny, her lips pursed like she was thinking. "I can rearrange my day on Friday, but I have to drop Momma off at her therapy session... Maybe I could shop on Saturday."

"I'll drop her off." Said Lo, testing the waters of her trust.

"Really?"

"Sure! She likes me, Tiny, deal with it."

Tiny laughed, and asked if he'd be willing to keep Antoine busy for a couple hours after school.

"Most definitely." Said Lo trying to sound responsible. "He's been up here with me anyway-- A few times."

"Uh, oh..." Tiny giggled.

### 15

After dropping Elly off at the memory clinic and making sure she was safely signed in, Lo got back into the cab, leaned forward in the seat, and told the driver- Fish Back Academy.

The man waved his hand to indicate that he knewexactly where to go.

When the cab pulled up, Lo suddenly understood why Tiny had been doing what she was doing.

The Fish Back Academy-- It was obviously for the gifted and elite.

There was an eclectic line of cars half of a block long waiting to pick up the children. Town cars, cabs, and a woman on a pink Vespa scooter waited patiently for their prodigies.

Lo got out and told the driver to wait.

He walked up the sidewalk towards the school, along a beautiful antique wrought iron fence, and past a huge silver maple tree that flanked the side of the building.

When he pulled the front door open, he immediately smelled what can only be described as the essence of learning. Old books and new books. All mixed up together with anticipation, frustration, and moments of Eureka.

He walked down a small hallway that was plastered with the students' artwork.

Some of it was profound. Some of it was shit.

Off to the right of the hallway sat a young woman at a simple Danish desk, wearing headphones and typing quietly on an i-mac computer.

"Good afternoon." Said Lo. "I'm looking for Antoine..."

Lo suddenly realized he hadn't a clue to what Tiny or Antoine's last name was.

"My name is Lo." He said starting over. "And I must apologize for my discrepancy in formalities. I'm looking for an African American boy the name of Antoine, and much to my embarrassment and chagrin, I seemed to have forgotten his last name."

The young woman's mouth dropped open ever so slightly. She yanked the headphones from her ears too quickly and the cord caught in the rim of her glasses, pulling down on one of the green plastic corners until they sat crooked on her face.

"Good day to you, sir... Good afternoon!" Said the young woman, visibly flustered by her recognition of Lo.

The young woman hastily adjusted her glasses, then extended her soft white hand to Lo.

"I'm Jules Parker. Miss Parker. I'm-- I'm the philosophy teacher here at the academy."

"How do you do Miss Parker." Said Lo shaking her soft, pale hand. "My name is Lo. Mr. Lo. And I'm the philosophy teacher here on earth. Forever."

The young woman smiled in shock at his response, leaving her mouth still slightly open.

"Miss Parker." Lo continued. "I'm a close friend of Antoine and his family, and I was hoping that you might allow the boy to leave early today... Just 40 minutes by my watch."

The young woman closed her mouth and swallowed.

"Miss Laurent, I mean Clementine, informed us that a Caucasian gentleman would be picking him up today. His mother's very thorough-- Miss Laurent that is."

Lo knew exactly what she meant by Tiny being thorough.

"May I call you Jules, Miss Parker?" Asked Lo.

"Totally!" Said Jules. "Please do."

The young woman's face looked delighted.

"I'd love to hear just what it is people like yourself do here for the children." Said Lo.

"Totally! Of course-- It would be my pleasure." Her adrenaline was starting to level off, and she looked at him as if she wasn't sure what to do next, or where to start.

"Let's find Antoine, shall we?" Said Lo, and he motioned down another hall, towards the classrooms. "I'm sure he'll be just as excited to offer some of his insights into our conversation."

"Your school's pretty neat." Said Lo, once they were in the cab. "Your teachers seem really nice."

"I can't believe you came and got me!" Said Antoine.

"I thought it might be a nice surprise." Said Lo.

"I thought Mr. Kaplan was going to hug you or something... Wow-- That was so cool." Antoine said, his face was beaming.

It was pretty cool, thought Lo.

It had been years since he'd been around that many privileged children and eccentric intellectual types.

He'd always found young, educated people that tried to change the world for the better sort of sadly enchanting. Like they were slightly larger, disillusioned versions of the very children they were trying to mold and shape.

"We could have walked home, you know." Antoine said, staring out of the window of the cab. "I do it every day by myself."

Something about that fact made Lo nervous, but he didn't tell Antoine.

"We have a few hours to kill. Don't you want to tear it up a little?" Asked Lo, cracking his knuckles.

Antoine asked if they could stop at the horse barn downtown, where the mounted police patrol keeps the horses.

"What for?" Asked Lo.

"So we can check out the horses." Said Antoine.

Lo remembered telling Antoine a story about a herd of wild Arabian horses he'd owned centuries ago.

"You mean you were serious about all of that last week?"

"Yeah." Said Antoine, looking sort of tentative.

Lo thought about it for a moment and grinned.

"I thought you were _acting_ interested in my life."

"I _was_ acting interested in your life." Said Antoine. "Because your life sounds really interesting. Especially the part with the horses."

Lo leaned back against the seat, embarrassed by how much the kid surprised him.

"So can we?"

"Sure, I guess... Let's do it!"

A couple minutes passed in silence as the street blocks flew by.

"Oh-- You know what-- Wait a minute." Lo said it to himself, but it came out just under his breath and was loud enough for Antoine to hear.

"What?" Asked Antoine, and Lo saw a little bit of fear in the kids eyes.

"It's nothing scary, don't worry." Said Lo. "I just have a better idea."

"What's your idea?" Antoine's face went from slightly fearful to completely curious in a flash.

"If I tell you, and we do it-- You can not... I mean it Antoine, you cannot tell your mom."

"Okay! I won't tell. Let's do it."

"You don't even know what the idea is yet." Lo smirked.

"Yeah, so-- I'll still probably wanna do it." Antoine said, grinning.

Lo knew at that exact moment that he'd opened up a big ass can of worms.

He thought about back peddling, but knew if he did, Antoine would someday tell his great grandchildren about the day the devil himself had punked out on him.

Or at least he hoped the boy would tell them.

Lo leaned forward and told the cab driver to scratch the horse barn and take them to the horse track.

"Yes! That's what I'm talking about!" Said Antoine. "I've always wanted to go there and see those kind of horses... All fast and everything... Awesome! This is going to be cool, Lo!"

Lo returned Antoine's high-five, then leaned back and swallowed.

Tiny would probably not approve of their sudden change of plans in any way, shape, or form.

Lo put his hand to his temple and tried to imagine the absolute worst thing that could happen if she found out.

He tried to convince himself that he could talk his way out of pretty much anything. He'd had oceans of practice for fuck sake.

Oh god, who was he kidding.

She would be pissed. Hot black woman pissed. Lo felt his lower back start to sweat underneath his shirt.

Antoine seemed oblivious to the Shakespearean tragedy that was playing out in his head.

The kid was talking a mile a minute about thoroughbred muscle fiber, and how hands meant the height of the horse, and that he just couldn't wait to take pictures with his camera.

"No!" Said Lo, when he heard the mention of possible evidence. "No pictures-- No way... We can't risk your mom finding them."

He tried to sound off of the cuff, and on the down low.

Antoine knew better.

He reached across the seat and grabbed Lo's hand, giving it a little squeeze.

"Don't worry Lo. I won't tell anyone. No one... I promise."

Lo exhaled and smiled at the kid.

Antoine turned his head and pressed his face to the window, to watch the water fly by underneath as the cab sped over the bridge.

"Besides... My mom really likes you, so it's cool."

Antoine huffed hot breath on the window and drew a smiley face in the condensation.

"She doesn't like me _that_ much." Said Lo, watching the smiley face fade away.

The cabby shot Lo a look in the rear view mirror that meant- better you than me, buddy.

Lo forked his tongue at the man in the mirrors reflection, and the driver went back to doing what he did best.

Driving.

"Where are you guys?" Asked Tiny. "Is everything okay? Did my two boos have fun?"

"Of course." Said Lo, noticing how thick his neck still felt. "We're actually on our way home."

He looked over at Antoine, who'd been reading the names off a racing form out loud to the cab driver.

"I bought a dress that I love! And shoes... Is that okay? And Ty bought a sweater."

"Anything you like. Whatever you guys want, seriously Tiny."

Antoine gestured to Lo that he wanted to talk to his mom.

Lo felt his neck tighten, as he handed the kid the phone.

"Hi, Mom. Yes... The zoo. I did... I didn't... A corn dog. He did... Okay, I'll tell him."

Antoine handed the phone back to Lo, then went back to quietly reading the racing form.

"Thank you baby so much for giving me a break today, and for buying me a beautiful dress."

"Okay then--" Said Lo, unable to tell her how happy it made him to please her in any way that he could. "We'll see you soon, Tiny."

Antoine was grinning down at the racing form, like he knew damn well what was going on with Lo and his mom.

"Mom's real excited about the party."

"Is she?"

"Oh, yeah... I can tell."

"Not lip stuff and trash cans again." Lo said, grinning at the kid.

"Nope... No trash cans. It's just-- I think my mom really likes you, Lo."

"That's good. I really like her too."

Antoine turned and looked out the window for a minute, and when he did speak, it caught Lo completely off guard.

"You would never hurt on her would you? Even if you were real mad at her... Or mad at me."

Lo was dumbfounded.

"Of course not, Antoine! No, no and no. A man can never, ever, ever, touch a woman or a child in that way. Never ever. You understand that, right? "

Antoine nodded and scratched the side of his nose.

The kid started to collect all of the racing forms that were scattered on the seat around him, rolling them up tight. He leaned up and asked the cab driver if he'd be interested in keeping them. The man held his hand out over the back of the seat and took the roll of papers from Antoine's hand.

Lo watched, and felt guilty as hell, while the kid checked his pockets and backpack for evidence of their day.

"Can I ask you something, Antoine?"

Antoine adjusted his glasses and looked over at Lo like he was waiting for the something.

"Has someone hurt on you or your mom before?"

Antoine shifted in his seat and folded his deformed hand into his normal hand. Lo could smell the air in the cab become unsure.

"My dad did, sometimes-- If he comes around." It was all the kid said. Real quietly, like he was embarrassed about it.

"When does your dad come around?" Asked Lo.

"When he wants to make my mom cry." Antoine adjusted his glasses again, then looked at the back of the cab drivers head, trying to figure out if the man was listening.

The cab turned the corner onto their street and came to a stop in front of their building.

Lo hadn't even realized the cab had stopped, let alone that they were home and directly in front of the brownstone building.

"Let's go, Lo! Mom brought home a chicken bucket from the Cluck-Stop."

Lo paid the driver and followed Antoine up the steps.

Antoine ran through the corridor and flung the front door of his apartment open, shouting to Tiny and his grandma that he was home. Lo waited for him to get inside, then started to walk up the stairs to his apartment

"Where are you going, Lo?" Asked Antoine, hanging on the door, half in and half out of their apartment.

Tiny walked up behind Antoine, wiping her hands on a striped kitchen towel and telling him to stop playing with the door handle like it was a jungle gym.

"What are you doing, baby?" Tiny asked Lo. "Get in here. Dinners almost ready, and Ty made margaritas."

She shook her hips when she said margaritas.

Antoine looked up at his mom and said, "I told him you brought home a chicken bucket."

Tiny shooed him inside and shut the door. She pulled Lo down the three stairs, stood on her tip toes and gave him a hug.

"Hard day at the office, baby?" Tiny whispered, and kissed him deep.

He grinned and nodded.

"Are you hungry for chicken?" She said, wiping her sparkly lip stuff off of his lower lip with the dish towel.

"I could eat." Said Lo.

"Then let's go!" She said, pulling him through her door and into the chaos of a real family life.

When they were done eating, Elly turned on a little transistor radio that sat on a shelf above the sink and started humming along to a station playing big band while she did the dishes.

Tiny excused herself to help Antoine pack his overnight bag for a slumber party at a friend's house the next day.

Tyrone asked Lo to join him outside on the stoop, while he lit up an old friends ass.

Lo followed him to the cement steps.

The night was clear as a bell, and a nice southerly breeze had somehow found it's way to their narrow little street in Harlem.

"You know what's nice about having a cigarette on the stoop with you?" Said Tyrone.

"What?" Lo asked.

"Ain't no mother fucker gonna give me any shit about the smoke!"

They both laughed out loud.

Lo realized how much he missed a real life family environment. The only time he'd experienced something similar was with the Baileys.

He stretched his legs out, and told Ty exactly what he was thinking.

When he leaned forward to brush some of the dirt off of his wingtip shoes, Tyrone asked if his ankles were doing better.

"So you heard about that?" Said Lo, putting his face in his hands, embarrassed.

"I heard." Said Ty, blowing a steady stream of smoke up and away from the stoop. "And I don't shame you a bit! I know I would freak the fuck out if I thought someone was banging the love of my life."

"How do you know she's the love of my life?" Asked Lo.

"But isn't she, lover?" Tyrone sat down next to him on the smooth cement stair and crossed his legs.

"She is." Lo answered.

The air felt soft and warm on his face as he picked a leaf off of the scrubby little tree next to the stoop and looked at its thread like green veins, spread out haphazardly, like the fingers on a deformed hand.

"I'm going to ask you something straight out, but you don't have answer." Said Lo.

"Ask away." Said Ty.

"Does Antoine's father still come around?"

Tyrone rolled his eyes and pulled out another cigarette.

Lo watched as he tried to light it against the breeze using a yellow plastic Bic with the word "Player" printed across the front in pink fluorescent writing.

He took the cigarette from Ty's hand and stuck the tobacco end onto his tongue. The tip of the cigarette glowed a fiery yellow orange almost instantly.

Lo handed it back to Ty and watched the ember glow of the cigarette grow bright, as Ty drew back on the filter hard.

"I hope that rotten mother fucker's dead!" Said Tyrone. "And you know what, lover-- Between you and me and these twinkling mother fuckin' stars... I know! I know! I know, he raped that girl."

Ty placed his hand delicately across his throat and pulled his shoulders back.

"Now don't get me wrong, Antoine's the best thing that ever happened to her-- But that mother fucker-- He ain't never been nothing but trouble for this whole family."

Lo was taking in every word and making exact mental notes. For a future he hoped never came to fruition. For the sake of the mother fucker.

"Back in the day, when Antoine was a baby and Tiny was doing what she had to do to pay the bills, he'd come around and shake her down for money. And if she refused him, he'd tell her he was going to tell the authorities just _how_ she was paying her bills. You know-- Just what she was _up_ to... And then he'd tell her that he was going to take _his_ baby away from her, and that social services would put her momma into a home! Can you believe that, Lo?"

Lo wasn't surprised.

Tyrone asked him if he should stop tellin' madness and talk about the weather.

"No." Said Lo. "Tell me everything. I need to know."

"She'd never admit it, but he raped her that night-- Or date raped her, as they call it. I don't know what the date part is all about- rape is rape, isn't it? Why does everyone care so much about the _blind_ part, or the damn steak and shrimp souffle."

Lo was lost.

"Wait a minute-- Are you telling me that she was on a fucking date with this guy?"

Ty gave him a look like he was a little slow.

"Yes, yes, yes, lover-- That's what I've been telling you... A dumb ass, mother fuckin' _blind_ date. Now take that home and cook it!"

Lo was positive he could feel his back starting to broaden.

"Who set her up on the date?"

"Some dumb bitch from RayRay's beauty school... She told Tiny that this fool had seen her through the windows, and that he seemed like a real nice guy. Can you believe that shit?"

Lo was reeling.

"And believe me, if you could have known Tiny way back when... She was a real sweet pea. Real trusting. Hell- I think she might have been a virgin, or damn close! She just wanted to have a little fun, meet a nice man, and take care of her momma- Period."

Lo suddenly felt sad.

"Did he abuse them physically when he came around?"

"Probably." Said Tyrone, and he flicked the butt of the cigarette into the street. "She's got a lot of pride, so she won't tell me everything, but I'd put money on it. The second she stopped turning tricks, she went and got herself a full-on restraining order. She's had to call the cops twice. so that tells you something-- Boy is their lifestyle gonna change when the nest egg runs out... Doin' hair don't pay like hookin'!"

Lo asked Tyrone for a cigarette.

"Ooh wee dang! Did gay cousin Tee-Tee just blow your handsome-ass mind on a Friday night?"

Lo stuck the tip on his tongue, flipped it around, and pulled the whole cigarette down in one blazing drag, then he flicked the butt into the street, and it skipped and sparked a couple of times before rolling down into the gutter.

"Damn! You are so fine." Ty said, seriously.

Lo smiled and locked his hands behind his head, stretching his back out.

He told Tyrone not to worry. Things were different now. No one had to trouble themselves over some rotten mother fucker.

"Do you know why you don't have to worry, cousin Tee-Tee?" Lo said, flatly. "Because rotten mother fuckers don't fare well under my watch."

### 16

That night, they made love.

No bullshit.

She walked up after Elly and Antoine were in bed, and this time she told both of them exactly where she would be and exactly who she'd be with.

"Right upstairs." Said Tiny, pointing to the ceiling. "With Lo."

Elly smiled and pointed to the ceiling. "I know, baby. You're up with Lo, living the life!"

Antoine shook hands with Lo like a man before Lo left.

Lo pulled him in close and gave him a hug.

Antoine hugged him back, then squirmed away, adjusted his glasses, and told him to save some for a tree.

"Do you get it?" Asked Antoine. "Like a tree hugger!"

"I get it." Lo smiled.

"Nighty-night my boo crew, you know where I'm at if you need me." Tiny shouted before she and Lo walked out of her apartment. They hid just outside the door, secretly, to make sure that Antoine would do as he was told and lock the deadbolt. He did.

They walked up to Lo's apartment free and clear. No more sneaking around. The proverbial cat was out of the bag.

Tiny was with Lo, and Lo was the devil.

When he was inside of her, he lost all sense of time and reason.

It was like everything righteous he'd ever experienced was locked tightly inside of his cock, and once he was inside of her, it was nothing but good. He was nothing but good. And wildly happy.

No malice he caused, no violence he took part in, nothing but good memories and anticipation found it's way into her warm wetness.

That night, she was a sweet pea. A trusting virgin. Everything about her entire being seemed innocent and hopeful. She was having a little fun, with a good man, and taking care of hers- Period.

She pushed him up off of her chest and said that she wanted him to try something different.

Something for her.

"Lo, I know you've been holding back because you're afraid that you'll hurt me, but I want all of you, every inch." Tiny said, pleading. "Please Lo, just push it in all of the way."

He had been holding back. She was so small and tight and fragile.

And Lo was part animal. His cock was big, and that was just the way it was.

Another odd, simple fact. Like the ridiculous strength of a spider's web.

He learned early on that most women didn't want it, or they couldn't take it. The majority didn't care enough to try.

Lo told himself that it was probably just a mental thing for most women.

It made him feel a little less like an animal who hadn't found a mate, and a little more like a normal man who just hadn't found that special someone.

Lo looked at her.

She was begging him to trust her.

She climb onto her hands and knees. Her cunt was so wet.

"Tiny, I'm going to go real slow... And the minute I sense anything but pure pleasure coming from your body, I'm pulling back."

"Okay." She said sounding like a little girl accepting the rules of a pillow fight.

Lo slid his cock in and moaned. Tiny moaned. With her, just the tip would have been enough for him.

He felt her slip down on his cock to where they'd played it safe each time before.

And honestly, it was more than enough.

He pushed her ass up a little bit and was looking at everything, almost in a clinical sense. Her wet pink lips were swollen and wrapped tightly around his cock. He looked too big for her.

"Honey, let's stop-- Let me just take it from here... This feels great to me, I promise." Said Lo trying to reason with her.

"Lo-- Close your eyes for me." Tiny asked. "Please-- I would do it for you."

He laughed at her method of reasoning, and looked one last time at her wetness. It was so primal and amazingly natural. She was of a female species that was ready, waiting and needing to be fucked.

"Okay." Said Lo. "They're shut."

And they were.

He felt her hands pushing him down until he was crouched on his knees, then he felt her back against his chest.

She pumped up and down a couple of time, said that she was coming, and begged him to squeeze her tits.

Lo releases his grasp on her ass, thinking only about how much he wanted to make her pussy pop.

The minute he let go of her ass and started to squeeze her breasts, Tiny pushed down so hard on his cock, he felt his thighs flex. Warm wetness was at the base of his cock. She squealed, and sucked in one short breath.

In as long as he'd walked the earth, he'd never felt anything like it.

"Don't move, baby." She whispered softy, over her shoulder. "I want you to remember the first time."

She started to move slightly up. Then down again. Then farther up, and all the way back down again, wiggling back and forth fast and hard into the base of his cock. His balls were sticky from her juice.

"I can't hold it Tiny, I have to cum."

"Then cum, boo."

"I love you, Clementine." Was the last thing Lo said before he came.

He didn't remember laying back onto the bed. Or her turning the fan on, and the lights off, before curling up next to him and falling asleep on his shoulder.

His mate. His special someone. His queen.

When he woke up the next morning she was gone, and there was a scribbled note on the counter top that read- See you later, I'm so excited!

His phone rang while he was eating a bowl of corn flakes and reading the back of the cereal box, flabbergasted at all of the shit that went into making a half inch piece of pressed corn flour.

Jack's birthday face flashed across the screen.

Lo pushed talk.

"The moose is loose! Party tonight, oh yeah!" Said Jack.

Lo could tell Jack had drank too much caffeine.

"Party tonight--" Said Lo.

"Thanks again for buying us the whole table man, I know that's Rockefeller expensive."

"That's another thing I want to talk to you about." Said Lo crunching into the phone and doing so only because it was Jack on the receiving end. "I'm going to need more money."

"Wait a minute big guy, I have to wipe my ass." Said Jack.

Classic, thought Lo, and he crunched even louder into the phone, but heard the toilet flush anyway.

"Okay! More money, more money-- Gotta get my best bud some money..." Said Jack.

Lo crunched, and waited.

"I could up your fee, or up your commissions. Or both. God I love a monopoly! Wait, wait-- Uncle Jack has an idea. Let's do some jewelry, Lo... Oh yeah, it's time! It's time for the dead presidents no one ever sees."

"Nope." Said Lo. "Too personal."

He heard Jack sigh and regroup. "I know how you feel about it big guy, but it would be huge percentages. Big, big... Like forget about it big."

Lo knew he was right, but everything about jewelry made Lo uncomfortable.

It was way too personal, and filled with the specific emotions that Lo tried his best to never experience from the perspective of another. Some flew as high as a kite, and some sank like a shipwreck with no survivors.

He sat crunching his corn flakes and thinking about Tiny, and Antoine, and Elly. His boo crew. His sweet pea. His queen.

"Do it." Said Lo.

"Really?" Said Jack, completely surprised.

"Yep. Make it happen... And I want twisted shit too. The shit's that going to bring in the real dollars."

"Whatever you say." Said Jack, starting to sound suspicious.

Lo rinsed his bowl in the sink, and thought about the money.

"Um-- So what tux are you wearing tonight?" Asked jack, his voice sounded like he was a completely different person.

"Oh, fuck it! I can't do this-- Is this about that girl? That black woman... Is she pulling on your dick like a loose slot machine?"

Lo couldn't help but laugh, even though he hated it when Jack refused to except that he'd learned to spot the gold diggers a thousand years prior. Probably more.

"No, no-- But I'm starting to feel like myself again Jack, and I'm not going to lie to you, because I don't have to... It's because of her."

They breathed into the phone.

"Fair enough." Jack said sighing, but knowing full well when to surrender. "I'll make the phone calls."

"Thank you." Said Lo. "I would appreciate it... And-- I love you Jack. I'll never forget about you, ever. You're a true-blue original."

Lo completely caught Jack off of his guard. The line was silent for a couple of seconds, but Lo could hear Jack breathing.

"Then I guess that makes me kind of immortal, doesn't it?" Said Jack.

"I guess it does." Said Lo. He could tell he'd thrown a wrench into Jack's game.

"I'm wearing my Brooks Brothers, because I don't want to look too over the top." Lo changed the subject.

"Really... That sounds just lovely." Jack rebounded sarcastically. "Then I guess you wouldn't mind if I borrowed your Armani jacket?"

When the black Lincoln town car pulled up in front of the building, the driver phoned Lo's cell to let him know he was "at his every service," as the man put it.

"Can you make a woman hurry the hell up?" Asked Lo.

"No man can do that, sir." Said the driver, with amusement in his voice.

Lo sat rocking back and forth in Elly's rocking chair, while he ate a cold biscuit and watched her fold some of Antoine's laundry.

"You boys just love to burn through your underwear." Elly said, giggling and holding up a pair of Antoine's Fruit of the Looms. She stuck her finger through a dime size hole near the elastic waist band, and wiggled it at him.

"We like to put them through their paces." Said Lo.

Elly threw her head back and laughed. "You do! I know it... My boys are something else!"

When Tiny walked out of her room, Lo dropped the biscuit into his lap.

Elly smiled, and put her hands up to her chest.

"Oh my stars... Would you just look at my girl." She said softly.

Tiny's dress was snow white and one-shouldered. It wrapped around her every curve and fell to the floor in folds of silk muslin. Around her wasp like waist was a thin gold cord that hung to the side of her hip. She'd put tiny golden leaf clips on either side of her jet black bangs and a hammered gold cuff bracelet on each wrist.

A Grecian goddess, standing among piles of fresh laundry and a worn out leather ottoman.

"Ooh... Look at you in a tuxedo!" Tiny said to Lo. "You look so handsome."

Lo stood up and the biscuit fell to the floor. He picked it up and set it down onto the coffee table without taking his eyes off Tiny.

Elly picked up the laundry basket and squeezed Tiny's hand, before disappearing down the hallway on her way back to Antoine's room.

Tiny walked on through the living room, picking up an empty glass and one of Antoine's comic books that he'd left on the floor.

Lo was dumbfounded.

He took the glass from her hand and set it on the coffee table.

"I've never had _anything--_ Ever. As lovely as you." Said Lo. "You're a Monet. My beautiful Monet."

Tiny kissed him quickly on the lips, then looked down the hallway towards Antoine's room. She kissed him again, this time harder and longer.

"We look good together, don't we?" Said Tiny, as they walked past the thin, full length mirror in the foyer.

The reflection held the two of them, side by side and head to toe.

He was big, and rugged, and handsome.

She was small, and delicate, and beautiful.

"Bye bye, Momma, we're off-- Call me if you need anything... Remember Antoine's at his sleepover- Antoine's at his sleepover." Tiny repeated herself a few times while Lo made sure the post-it notes were firmly in place on the back of the door.

"I know baby, I know." Elly said, standing in the hallway and waving them off. "I'm not _completely_ living it up in la-la land!"

Lo laughed out loud, and Tiny waved at her mom with an envelope sized gold metal bag, and reminded her to lock-it-up when they left.

The drivers eyes widened when he saw Tiny walk down the front steps, holding her hemline up slightly, and exposing her gold high heels that wrapped around her delicate ankles with thin gold serpentine leather straps.

"Good evening." He said, and his face immediately went back to blank professionalism.

The driver opened the shiny black door and extended his hand to Tiny as she stepped down carefully into the soft leather upholstery.

Lo was already walking around to the other side of the car, and he acknowledged the driver with a quick nod.

The driver understood exactly what the gesture meant- Just focus on making sure the woman is perfectly situated.

Once the car pulled away from the curb, Tiny took Lo's hand into hers and set it on her lap.

"I'm nervous." Said Tiny.

"Don't be." Said Lo, leaning up and pulling a freshly uncorked and perfectly chilled bottle of Moet from a sterling silver bucket of ice.

"Ooh-- I've got butterflies in my stomach, Lo."

Lo poured two tall glasses of the expensive champagne, and handed one off to Tiny. "We're going to have so much fun tonight, you're gonna puke." Lo tapped his glass to hers.

"To puking up fun!"

She giggled and gave him one of her you-so-silly looks.

The party was in full swing when they walked into the ballroom.

A waiter walked by holding a tray of fluted glasses filled perfectly with champagne, and standing side by side, like tall, skinny soldiers. Lo grabbed two.

They moved slowly through the tastefully appointed ballroom to find their table. It was one of the five best tables, towards the middle.

The orchestra started to play an old German waltz that Lo immediately recognized, and Tiny squeezed his forearm and flashed a surprised grin at him, like she didn't expect live music.

"Oh my god, you're here... Oh yeah!" Said Jack, standing up proper, as they approached the table. "And your lady friend looks, if I may say so, better than every other dame in the joint!"

Jack took her hand carefully, shook it, and introduced himself.

Before letting her hand go, he kissed it lightly and said, "Seriously though Miss, I'm almost blinded by your beauty. It's real powerful stuff."

Jack pulled out a chair, brushed it dramatically with a napkin, and offered it to Tiny.

She giggled, then sat down gracefully and looked around the room pleasantly at all of the chandeliers and artwork.

Lo watched her take it all in.

"Oh. My. God!" Jack mouthed silently, as he helped lay her white silk shoulder scarf, neatly over the back of the chair.

Lo raised his eyebrows quick- like he got it, then put one hand in his pocket casually and slugged back the champagne.

Jack leaned in close to Lo's ear and told him to turn the fuck around.

Lo smirked, elbowed him, and told him to get the hell away.

"Just do it, dickhead." Said Jack, and by this time, they were both giggling under their breath like school boys.

Lo turned around just long enough to see everyone in the room staring...

At Tiny.

You could have pushed him over with a feather.

Jack was waiting like a spider for Lo to look at him, and when he did, Jack laughed in his face.

"It's a first my friend! And I gotta tell ya, I'm _loving_ every minute of it." Said Jack.

Tiny reached out and tugged lightly on the bottom of Lo's jacket.

"What are you two talking about?" She looked back and forth between the two of them. "I'm kind of hungry. Are you guys hungry?"

"I don't know where he found you, Tiny." Said Jack. "But sign me up for two!"

Lo rolled his eyes, and asked Tiny if she wanted to go look around at the exhibits and scout out some appetizers.

"Where's your date?" Asked Tiny, and Jack offered his hand to her, again dramatically, while she was standing up from her chair.

She ran her hands over her hips to smooth the dress.

Jack bit his lower lip, and mouthed oh-my-god again, in Lo's direction.

Lo elbowed him out of the way and took Tiny's hand.

"Yeah, jack-ass. Where is your lovely date?" Said Lo, smirking.

"She's in the bathroom, fixing her fright wig-- Wait until you guys see it, it looks pretty wild... Hot! Definitely hot, but wild."

Tiny looked at Jack and wrinkled her nose, like he was totally loveable, but crazy all the same.

"I'll hang here and work the crowd... Get it going for us!" Shouted Jack, as they walked away from the table.

Tiny giggled.

Lo warned her that laughing with Jack was like feeding a bear.

They looked at each other straight faced, then laughed as the band started to play Glenn Miller.

### 17

Three hours, two bacon wrapped fillets, a lobster tail and countless bottles of champagne later, and Lo was actually enjoying himself. Really enjoying himself.

His assistant Carolyn brought her on-again-off-again investment banker boyfriend. At one point earlier on into the evening, it looked as though they might actually break up then and there, until Tiny came back from the ladies room and told the table not to worry.

She'd seen them kissing and bidding on an exclusive vacation package to Switzerland that was being offered in the gala's silent auction.

Teresa, Jack's mild-mannered secretary, brought along her equally as mild mannered sister, and the two of them spent most of the evening gossiping about each and every blood line and questionable antecedent in the room. It was if the they were on some sort of a blue-blooded safari.

Jack's bitchy redhead turned out to be just as loud and as fun-loving as Jack.

They kept Lo and Tiny laughing and appalled, simultaneously.

Four different gentleman asked Tiny to dance over the course of the evening.

Lo watched, enchanted, as she moved like some sort of an alluring cat on the marble parquet dance floor. The men would hand deliver her back to Lo, and walk away a little taller in their tuxedos- Each more charmed then the next.

When she danced with Lo, she lay her head on his lapel and hummed with the music. He pretended it was the first dance at their wedding.

"Are you ready to puke up some fun yet?" He whispered, into her ear.

"Almost."

He heard cameras click, and for once, didn't care.

"Are people taking pictures of you?" She asked.

"No honey... Their taking pictures of you." She gave him a you-so-silly look, and they danced like they were the only two people in the room.

Lo and Tiny were at the table leafing through the silent auction brochure, when Jack walked up and announced that he was ready and willing to escort his two favorite ladies up to the dessert buffet.

The redhead playfully bumped Jack with her hip and extended her hand to Tiny.

"I know he means you girl, so let's go and get fat together!"

Tiny winked at Lo as she took the redhead's hand.

Lo turned and watched as Jack walked with the two women, one on each arm, like a jovial king to coronation.

Everyone stared.

Jack would stop occasionally and give the queens wave to someone he knew, or introduce both of the women to a client, like he was the mayor of the MET.

When they got to the buffet table, Jack put a tiny lemon tartlet up to his eye like a monocle and acted like he was using it to see down the redhead's dress. Tiny giggled and swatted him with a cloth napkin.

Lo had to hand it to Jack; he really knew how to enjoy himself.

Lo was reading the auction listing for private flying lessons, and half way through a well versed paragraph on the joys of owning your own aircraft, he noticed the two ladies on safari were whispering amongst themselves, and intently focused on the dessert buffet.

He watched them politely, thinking to himself how oddly funny they both were.

Mixed amongst a thousand other sounds, he heard what he thought was Jack's voice, uncomfortably raised, coming in short, deep, meaningful clips.

He scanned the buffet like a hawk.

A man wearing a impeccable white dinner jacket was speaking to Jack, and motioning in careless, drunken gestures towards Tiny.

Jack's back was towards Lo, and the man stood across from him, while the redhead and Tiny flanked the two men on either side, their curved silhouettes in stark contrast with those of the men.

For a moment, it looked as if the man in the white dinner jacket was acting out a drunken scene from some ridiculous noir film.

When the man grabbed Tiny's face with his drunken hand, and squeezed it like she was some sort of a cupie doll, Jack's hand flew out like a jab and knocked the man's glass to the floor.

Lo stood up so fast, his chair fell and the table rattled.

He cleared the distance to the buffet in long, calculated strides.

The redhead pulled Tiny away from the man's drunken reach, and out of the way of Jack, who was lining up the man up like a boxer.

"She's a whore... A little piece of Godiva chocolate." The drunk said under his breath, grinning at Jack.

The man burped politely and looked at his hand, like he wasn't sure what had happened to his glass of scotch and soda.

The redhead was leading Tiny to the ladies room, the two of them zigzagging through the crowded floor like it was an overpriced obstacle course.

Tiny glanced over her shoulder in Lo's direction and mouthed the words- please and don't.

Jack was a split second away from swinging, when Lo grabbed onto his shoulder.

He spun around fueled by adrenaline, obliviously riled up and ready to fight.

"Can you believe this fucking moron!" Said Jack, his forehead tense and starting to sweat. "I'm going to mop the floor with this piece of shit."

The crowd stared, politely sipping their cocktails and fingering their jewels.

Lo tried to pull Jack's fist from the man's shirt collar, it felt hot and full of intent.

"Let him go, Jack." Said Lo, matter of factly.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Did you hear this piece of shit?"

"You'll get into trouble, Jack." Lo said, again matter of fact.

The man stood firmly attached to Jack's fist, watching the two of them debate. He drunkenly giggled and said, "Waiter, bring me another drink."

The crowd was amused and appalled. Simultaneously.

"He called her a whore, Lo." Jack said, under his breath and through his teeth, like a ventriloquist.

Lo knew it was a now or never moment. Most moments of any real value were.

He was who he was, and people needed to remember it and act accordingly.

He wasn't one of the guys. He wasn't some gentile catalyst for contemporary society playing nice by some pathetic mortal list of rules and regulations.

Lo had been trying to convince people for over a hundred years not to worry. That the devil posed no threat to anyone.

Not really. Not anymore.

Jack looked at Lo and Lo looked at Jack.

"He called her a whore?" Lo asked quietly, through his teeth.

"He called her a whore."

Lo reached across Jack's arm and squeezed the man's face, like the man had squeezed Tiny's.

The man looked strangely cool for a moment in his white dinner jacket, until his eyes started to show the beginning signs of sobering, and sheer terror moved in stages across his face.

The crowd started to back up. Thoughtfully aware of their movements and closing in tightly together, like well dressed sheep.

"Who is this man?" Lo shouted, calmly but clearly above the music.

The man himself tried to speak, but Lo squeezed his face harder, stretching the skin over the man's cheekbones so tight that the tissue turned snow white.

Lo felt a tooth break loose from its root, and the man's eyes bulged from pain and fear.

"Will someone please tell me who this man is, or it's going to get, shall I say, uncomfortable." Said Lo.

The band stopped playing like a music box winding down. The tiny metal fingers rolling over a spiked metal drum slowly coming to a stop with one last note that hung in the air.

Waiters stood erect and unmoving. Some of the guests that were close to the exits began to casually but purposely filter out.

"It's Walter Banks." Said Teresa, Jack's secretary, unflinching over the crowd. "He's a philanthropist and known alcoholic."

Lo loosened his hold on the man's face.

"Is he of real wealth?" Lo Asked.

"Extremely." Said Teresa's sister. The two of them stood on their chairs, now actively on safari and thrilled to be engaged in the expedition.

Lo let the man's face go and handed him the napkin that Tiny had dropped onto the buffet table.

"Here's what's going to happen, Walter." Said Lo, under his breath to the man.

The man spit his tooth into the napkin and wiped the blood from his lips, looking up at Lo like he was ready and willing to jump through hoops of fire.

"My friend here would like to take his redheaded girlfriend to Switzerland." Lo said casually.

The herd of sheep that had been repelled by danger moved in closer now, driven by curiosity.

"And I think it would be a wonderful gesture by you, in a show of your appreciation for this fine museum. To send them there--"

Lo continued.

"By striking all bids and buying the package for let's say-- Oh, I don't know... Two hundred and fifty thousand. Does that sound about right to you, Jack?"

"I like it. Sounds good. Good clean figure." Said Jack, still holding the man by his silk shirt.

"Wonderful. Then it's settled." Said Lo, and he turned to the crowd and held his hands out towards the man as if to say what-a-guy. "Let's hear it for Mr. Walter Banks!" Shouted Lo. "The most generous man of the evening."

Lo began to clap and smile wide, like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland.

Jack let go of the man's shirt and briefly straightened the collar, then turned and started to clap along side of Lo.

The crowd looked around tentatively for social cues.

Slowly, one by one, the guests started to applaud and smile, nodding politely at the person on either side of them.

A lone violinist began playing- For He's A Jolly Good Fellow.

Lo shouted "Bravo!" and motioned for the rest of the orchestra to play along. They did.

Jack looked like he'd just been a witness to something spiritual.

Walter Banks held up his hand to the crowd in acknowledgment. It resembled a stiff branch from a dying tree. He sat down on the closest chair he could find, bewildered.

Lo told one of the waiters to bring Mr. Banks a scotch and soda immediately.

"Of course, sir." Said the waiter, unable to conceal a smile of approval and awe at what he had just witnessed.

Lo and Jack walked casually back to their table, and the crowd parted for them like they were unsound heroes; a little bit good, and a little bit crazy.

Once at the table, Jack jokingly said that he needed to take a shower.

An attractive brunette overheard and dipped a clean napkin in ice water. He took it and dabbed at his face and neck while the woman gave him elevator eyes and smiled.

She handed him a business card, and he thanked her and sat down. Flashing the card discretely at Lo and grinning.

"Am I really going to Switzerland?" Jack asked, under his breath.

"Yes, you are."

"Should I take the redhead?"

"I would..." Said Lo. "Red is definitely your color."

"I'm so getting laid tonight by a strawberry bush." Jack whispered.

Lo kept glancing towards the big brass doors waiting for Tiny.

"How long do you think they've been in there?" Asked Lo.

"Fifteen tops."

"Should I go and check on her?"

"No way big guy-- Let her do her thing... Sheila's in there with her, so it's cool. They're probably fixing their makeup and shit."

A couple higher-ups from the museum came by the table and expressed their apologies for such an unfortunate display. They also expressed how grateful they were for his help in acquiring such a generous donation.

If Lo hadn't respected the museum's collection so much, he would have laughed in their face.

The band was playing music from Peter and the Wolf, when an older gentleman approached Lo and offered his hand, introducing himself as Mr. Truman, the METs director of logistics.

Lo shook the man's hand.

"I hope your friend Clementine is feeling better, Mr. Lo." Said the man. "What a lovely girl... Like dancing with a rare and exotic orchid. Rudeness on any level towards such a fine young lady simply cannot be tolerated. I applaud your valor, though I question your tactics."

Lo realized he was the first gentleman of the evening that had asked Tiny to dance.

He'd placed her hand on top of his and held it up and out, like he was carrying something fine and fragile onto the dance floor. It'd reminded Lo of French customs, long past. Parties in Paris he'd remembered, sometime around the sixteenth and seventeenth century.

"You can't argue with my results." Lo said to the man.

"True enough, true enough." Mr. Truman was smiling in agreement, like it was some sort of guilty pleasure. "If there is anything ever I can do for you, please do not hesitate to call me, personally."

The man handed Lo his business card.

"I overheard a fascinating, but possible rumor, just tonight." Said Mr. Truman.

"What would that be?" Asked Lo, humoring the man, but curious just the same.

"I heard you were interested in jewelry... Only the finest of pieces, naturally." Mr. Truman's eyes held a spark of excitement.

Lo immediately looked over at Jack.

He'd been listening to the entire conversation, grinning like a simpleton and moving a fork between his fingers like a baton, and staring off, casually in the other direction.

"It's true." Said Lo.

"Marvelous!" Said Mr. Truman. "Just marvelous news."

He shook Lo's hand again, and sped off, obviously delighted to validate the claim that would be sure to quickly spread through the insulated world of elite antiquities.

Lo looked over at Jack.

"What?" Said Jack. "I told you I was going to make the phone ring, and ring it shall. Big time!"

Jack was mid sentence, when he pointed with the fork towards the big brass doors and smiled.

Tiny was walking proudly through the crowd, looking perfectly lovely and aloof. Like a beautiful swan swimming gracefully in a pond full of muddy ducks.

Lo stood up and started to walk in her direction.

People sidestepped and arched their bodies out of his way.

Eyes followed him as soon as he'd passed, wanting desperately to witness the two of them connect.

She extended her hand to him, and he held it, lightly placing his hand on her hip and thinking desperately how he wished they were alone, so he could check her delicate face and body all over with his hands.

She leaned in a gave him a soft kiss, then smiled like a movie star and motioned to the buffet saying that she wanted to try a little piece of that fantastic looking coconut number.

The crowd inhaled and exhaled in unison.

One elderly woman wearing multiple strings of ancient pearls and sitting in a wheel chair clapped lightly and raised her glass to Tiny.

Tiny kissed her fingertip and waved it at the woman.

The crowd was dazzled.

"After you." Lo said, proudly.

"Where's my tomato?" Said Jack after everyone at the table had offered their pieces of apology and outrage to Tiny.

"She's coming--" Said Tiny. "She's talking to someone from The Woman's League about your services... Your legal services I think, but I'm not sure."

"Oh yeah! She's selling the good stuff!" Said Jack.

Tiny reached down and wrapped her arms around Jack's neck and shoulders from behind his chair, then kissed him on the cheek in quick little smooches and called him her bodyguard.

His cheeks blushed red as he patted her arms and leaned into her smooches.

"Wait a damn minute!" Said Sheila giggling, high on champagne and power. "Did we just trade big-hairy bastards or what? I thought that happened later on in the evening!"

The whole table couldn't help but laugh and be appalled, equally.

Tiny gave Jack one last smooch.

"Do we make a good comeback or do we make a good comeback!" Said the redhead, pulling Tiny in close.

Jack leaned his chair back and smacked the redhead's ass.

"Pack your bags my fair Irish maiden. We're going to Switzerland!"

Sheila threw herself onto Jack's lap and crossed her legs.

"Switzerland--" She said. "Now that sounds interesting... Very interesting."

She whispered something into Jack's ear, and they both giggled and whispered back and forth like teenagers sneaking sips from their parents liquor cabinet.

"Do you still want some coconut cake?" Lo asked Tiny, trying to put his best face forward.

"Do you still want me to puke fun?" She said inhaling slowly.

"Yes-- I do... Fuck that ass hole. Fuck these people. Let's eat coconut cake!"

"Okay baby, then let's eat some cake." Said Tiny. "Lead the way."

"Bring us back something yummy..." Jack shouted, as they were walking away from the table. "Something that pairs well with strawberry pie!"

### 18

Tiny checked on her mom when they got back home from the party, while Lo waited by their front door, untied and untucked.

They walked up the stairs to Lo's apartment and took a shower together, enjoying being alone with the quiet. She stood with her eyes closed and her hands against the tile, while he washed her back gently with a washcloth.

When they were drying themselves off, Lo sat her down on the toilet seat and looked at her face under the bright fluorescent bathroom light.

"Are you sore anywhere? Does it feel bruised?"

"I'm fine, boo." Tiny said, trying her best not to sound grouchy.

"It looked like he grabbed you pretty hard. Are you sure? Let's just ice it for awhile."

"I'm cool, Lo-- let's just get into bed... I'm exhausted, and my feet are killing me from those damn heels."

He pulled the comforter down while she was brushing her teeth with his toothbrush. Fluffing her pillow just so, and smoothing the sheets into a perfect corner triangle, like the turn-down service in an expensive hotel.

She slid between the sheets, naked and smelling of Ivory soap. He pulled the covers around her and kissed her on the forehead.

"It's been a long night." Said Lo.

"I know..." Said Tiny, smiling up at him with sleepy eyes that held just the slightest bit of sadness.

"I had a wonderful time, Lo. Thank you for taking me out and introducing me to your friends, and buying me such a beautiful dress."

Lo stared down at her thinking that she would have made a great soldier.

"You took my breath away tonight." He said.

"You can have me-- If you want me." She lightly squeezed his cock.

She would have made a great general.

"You go to sleep." Said Lo, and he kissed her softly. "But you know I'm definitely taking a rain check."

She smiled and rolled onto her side.

The sheet over her silhouette looked like a finely carved piece of alabaster as he pulled the comforter up and tucked it around Tiny's hips. The fan hummed, bringing a familiar peace to the end of their night, as he turned off the light and closed the bedroom door behind him.

He walked quietly down the hall and into his office, where he shut the door and clicked on the green bankers lamp.

Inside one of the drawers of his desk was a brochure on Antoine's school that Miss Parker had given him on the day of his visit.

He leafed through the pages until he found the section on tuition, and typed some numbers into a Texas Instruments calculator he'd had for forty years. The sum must have looked like a fortune to Tiny, but the commission from one ridiculous brooch, owned by one important historical figure, was enough to cover graduation and then some.

The locks on the hard leather briefcase made two loud metal clicks as he pushed them and they popped open, one after the other.

The leather case was stuffed full of a thousand tiny paper cards.

Business cards, calling cards, match books, and even a few cocktail napkins fell to the floor when Lo turned the case upside down, dumping them out onto the intricately woven oriental rug that covered the wood floor.

His tail moved back and forth behind him deliberately as he fished through the pile.

When he found the one card he was looking for, he jumped up, held it under the light and dialed the number.

The line went directly to voice mail.

After leaving a detailed message, Lo apologized for the time before pushing end.

He held his cell phone and watched the second hand move on the antique mantel clock that sat on a window ledge in his office.

One minute and twenty two seconds later his cell phone rang.

"Victoria." Said Lo. "Thank you for returning my call so promptly."

The woman on the other end of the phone sounded two parts thrilled, one part professional, and a twist of sleepy.

After a twenty minute conversation involving specific questions, detailed answers, and extremely large figures, Lo and Victoria had scheduled an appointment to meet and liquidate, as she put it.

"Remember." Said Lo. "I'm looking for something with character... Something for a family."

"I've seen your properties. Your investments." Said Victoria. "You're going to have a lot of leverage Lo, trust me, whatever you want, you'll have."

"Thank you, Victoria." Said Lo. "You're a real stand up broad."

"I'm a well paid broad." The woman said seriously. "And now I'm going back to sleep, because some of us are aging my darling boy, and look like hell in the morning."

Lo marked the date on a calendar, then sifted slowly through the pile of cards as he stuffed them back into the case.

Some were contacts over a hundred years old. Stand up people. Honest people, now dead and buried.

Throwing them away was pointless, because the pile always grew back.

Lo shut the case, put away the brochure and clicked off the lamp.

When he crept into the bedroom, Tiny was snoring softly, but snoring all the same.

He laid down in stages so the bed wouldn't move.

When he pulled the covers up, Tiny's body twitched and she made a little sound, like a whimper.

Lo put his hand on her back and rubbed it gently, whispering to her subconscious that she was dreaming and everything was okay.

She snuggled up to Lo, sound asleep.

Lo lay in the darkness remembering how Tiny had looked dancing a waltz in her beautiful white dress. Imagining Jack and his redhead skiing down the powdery slopes of Switzerland. Thinking of Walter Banks and his bitter enslavement to a lousy glass of scotch and soda.

Lo felt lucky, for the first time in a long time, just to be himself.

He'd handled the situation extremely well, considering the only thing that bled profusely was a single, solitary tooth.

Tiny didn't have to know that he knew what had been said.

It was naïve to think that one of those men wouldn't recognize her once in a blue moon. It would be impossible to forget her in any capacity.

None of it mattered because Lo had a plan.

And though he hoped for the best, he expected some blood to spill along the way. It always did.

Real blood. Sticky and sacrificial. Not awards to the plaintiff, restitution, restraining orders, or any other bull shit.

He was done sitting on the sidelines. He and his were moving on up. With leverage.

### 19

"Good morning Mr. Lo." Said Russel Bird. "We're so pleased about today's session. I must admit the news came as quite a surprise to those of us that know your methods."

Lo knew what he meant by methods.

It was really Lo's reaction to said methods that had everyone nervous.

"Believe me Russell, my methods have changed. I foresee calm winds and smooth sailing from here on out."

"Very good, sir." Said Mr. Bird. "But if I may be so bold, after our last conversation I feel as if I, personally, am just starting to discover your truest strengths. As a gentleman that is, sir."

Lo felt himself stammer as he thanked Russell for such a compliment.

Carolyn sidled up to Lo in preparation for the session.

"If I may have a word with you, sir. Privately-- Off the clock, as they say." Said Mr. Bird, ignoring Carolyn's presence. "I have some information concerning the little wooden stool that you might find of particular interest."

Lo suggested they grab a drink or a coffee, whatever Russell preferred, at the bar in the posh hotel on the corner.

"Very well." Said Mr. Bird, looking pleased, but not surprised by the offer. "The selection of bourbon at that establishment is superb."

Lo shook Russel's hand again, as Carolyn pranced around arranging the fact sheets and making sure everything was in order exactly to the specifics of the new individual adornment contracts, as Jack was calling them.

"Jewelry's not broad enough, big guy!" Said Jack. "Let's place anything that touches the body in a stylish fashion under the new contracts. I don't give a shit if it was up their ass- It's adornment, and it costs more."

It was Jack's idea, and Lo was impressed.

Lo had complete and total right to refusal. During any session, at any time, and with any auction house; or broker, or dealer on the block.

If the work was international, that person and that person alone, was responsible for drawing contract, paying and delivering contract to Jack's office, again for complete approval.

If Jack scratched it, then back to the drawing board it went.

And all on the other guy's dime, since time to examine proposals was billable.

Merci, Danke, and Arigatou, mother fuckers.

Lo got up extra early in preparation for the day.

He read the real estate section and circled different properties for motivation.

Some were fine country houses upstate, and some were luxury penthouses complete with doormen, cold rooms and garden terraces.

When the town car pulled up, also a new addition to the individual contracts, Lo grabbed his satchel and tipped an imaginary hat to the driver.

The wonderful world of intimate emotion he had avoided for so long lay just minutes ahead of him, and he was as ready as he'd ever be.

Adornments sat patiently waiting to be unlocked from their air tight cases and allowed, just briefly, to stretch their exquisitely jeweled arms and gilded legs across smooth black velvet, then curl up carefully into Lo's hands and whisper their stories.

Frank the doorman said he'd heard the news.

"Does everyone know?" Asked Lo, starting to feel like a trick pony.

"No way. But I know everything that goes on with these assholes." Said Frank, and he motioned with his thumb towards the back rooms. "And I just wanted you to know that this time I got your back-- And if you want to get the fuck out of here quick, I'll make that happen. If I gotta carry you like a friggin' woman."

"You haven't aged a day Frank. You're still that handsome war hero."

"I'm a real lady killer." Said Frank using his born-and-bred-in-Queens accent.

He ushered Lo through the heavy glass doors, wishing him luck under his breath before they parted.

Lo felt a tap on his right shoulder.

He turned and no one was there.

"Good morning, sunshine." Jack said, standing to his left.

Jack held up his hand in a greeting of professionalism to acknowledge another attorney who was standing beside Russel Bird at the massive mahogany desk towards the end of the room.

Russel and the attorney were going over paper work and typing notes and figures into a paper thin computer.

"What are you doing here?" Lo asked, trying not to sound relieved to see him.

Jack shrugged his shoulders.

"It feels like I've been here for hours." Said Lo.

"I know. Real work's a bitch-- Suck it up for Uncle Jack."

A fake smile plastered Jack's face for the benefit of the room.

He motioned casually towards one of the upholstered benches, suggesting with his eyes that they both go and take a seat.

"Ah, see... Now this is better" Said Jack, his smile wavering. "Now, where's Miss Blondie big tits? Daddy needs a extra large coffee."

Lo looked at him.

"The first day of school is always the worst." Said Jack, watching the rooms organized chaos.

Carolyn breezed up, glanced at Jack, and told Lo that they were ready for him at one of the viewing stations. It was holding an elaborately jeweled pocket watch and chain.

"Good morning, Miss Carolyn." Said Jack. "You're looking all aglow today."

She snubbed him politely before turning and walking briskly away in the direction of the first viewing station.

Lo told him to stop.

"What? She called me! The day after the party, my friend... And tried to get up on this." Jack was pointing discreetly to his penis.

Lo stood up.

"She recognizes pure class and finery when she sees it." Said Jack, looking up at Lo.

"What she recognizes is a free ride to Switzerland."

"And that's what I told her while I was picking strawberry pie crumbs from my face." He brushed his cheeks dramatically with his fingertips.

Lo laughed out loud, and Jack smiled.

" _This_ is what I'm doing here, big guy. Now are you ready to make us some real money?"

"Yes I am." Said Lo, turning from Jack and walking like the world was at his feet, because in reality, it was.

### 20

"I'll have a vodka martini." Said Lo. "Extra dry. Up, no olives."

The cocktail waitress looked at Mr. Bird.

"I'll have the same." Said Russell.

"What? No fine bourbon?" Asked Lo, leaning into the table and smiling. "It's on me, remember?"

Mr. Bird grinned and said that evenings had been invented for bourbon. Afternoons were strictly vodka or gin.

Lo leaned back against the oxblood leather booth. The place was nice and quiet. Classy but not pretentious. It reminded Lo of a well meaning, pedigreed family with no real money left.

"Dim but respectable, wouldn't you say, sir?" Mr. Bird was smiling and gazing casually around the room, pleasantly aloof.

"I like you Russell." Said Lo.

"I like you too, sir." Said Mr. Bird.

The waitress brought the martinis and Lo took a swallow of his drink, then watched as Mr. Bird took three long, smooth sips. Leaving the glass almost empty.

"We forgot to make a toast." Said Lo.

"Did we?" Said Mr. Bird. "I've always felt that declarations of mutual equivalence suffice."

"Then to mutual equivalents." Said Lo.

"To mutual equivalents." Said Mr. Bird.

A piano played softy in the background as a table of middle aged woman laughed and gossiped about their daughters choices in husbands.

"Do you know what I find fascinating about life?" Said Mr. Bird.

"What's that Russell?" Asked Lo, beginning to see the man relax from the environment and the vodka.

"Some things-- The things born from emotion. Real emotion, that is. Those things never seem to change."

"And you're telling me." Laughed Lo.

"I suppose I am." Said Mr. Bird.

The two of them sat listening to the piano and looking at each other occasionally from across the table.

"My point is-- With all of the fictions we now know to be fact, and all of the facts, regardless of their importance..."

Mr. Bird stopped for a moment and looked at Lo as if he suddenly felt ridiculous to remind the devil himself of something he knew better than any other mortal man alive. "Well sir, it all seems so bloody unoriginal."

Lo laughed out loud, and Mr. Bird laughed along with him.

"I think I shall have another." Said Mr. Bird, dabbing at the corner of his eye with a cocktail napkin.

"And then I suppose, I should tell you what you've come to hear."

Lo had honestly almost forgotten about the reason he was in the dim but respectable bar, listening to piano music mixed with the laughter of women and thoroughly enjoying Mr. Birds company.

"The little wooden stool has quite a story." Said Mr. Bird. "But I think it would be best to get another libation into your blood. You see, sir. Lo. It's not a very pleasant story I'm afraid."

"I knew it!" Said Lo, a little too loud. "I could feel it. Well-- You know what I mean."

Mr. Bird leaned back as if he were waiting for the waitress.

"You can tell me now, Russell. Liquor is more of a ritual for me. It doesn't affect me like it does you-- It doesn't affect me at all."

"Oh, dread! How sad, sir." Mr. Bird placed his hand on top of Lo's for a moment, and then pulled it back professionally.

"One of those bloody unoriginal facts." Smiled Lo.

Mr. Bird lifted his chin at Lo while squinting one eye, as if to say- cleverly put.

The waitress brought the drinks to the table as the bartender drew the window shades halfway, blocking out the glare from the late afternoon sun.

"It is American." Said Mr. Bird. "Probably early eighteenth century. And privately owned, nothing of a shared or corporate trust. It's actually been held by the original family for centuries."

Lo looked at him inquisitively.

"Russell-- Correct me if I'm wrong. But don't we already know all of this?"

"We do." Said Mr. Bird, taking a long, smooth sip of his martini. "But I thought you might like to refresh your perspective."

Lo saw things in Mr. Bird that he saw in himself.

Their approach was similar.

It was as if they could have been related.

"What we didn't know-- And what I shouldn't be telling you... Is that the original family has long, tiresome roots in a revolting business."

"What business is that Russell?"

"The carnival business." Said Mr. Bird, his face betraying disgust so subtly it still appeared aloof by most standards.

Lo wasn't sure at all of what to take of the information.

"You remember the old fashioned carnivals." Said Mr. Bird, grazing in a field of his own thoughts. "Such a sad and repressing display of man and animal alike. Wouldn't you agree?"

Lo agreed with Mr. Bird.

"Oddities, I think they'd called them... Freaks of nature."

Mr. Bird shook his head slightly and blinked a couple of times, like he was trying to remove an image from his mind.

"I've seen things in the antiquity business, Lo-- Some beautiful, some fascinating, and some just heart breaking... But once or twice in my career, and it's been a long career, I'll come across something that's all of those things."

Lo's mouth had fallen open slightly, and when he became aware of the fact, he closed it by taking a long, smooth sip from his untouched martini glass.

"Shall I continue?" Asked Mr. Bird, leaning in to the table. "Today's been quite a lot for you my boy, if I may take the liberty of saying so."

Lo squeezed Mr. Bird's shoulder gently and quickly, and asked him to continue.

"That stool--" Said Mr. Bird. "That ridiculous little wooden stool, as you called it. It was used to display a beautiful and fascinating child... A grossly deformed boy."

Lo sat motionless, unable to hear the piano, or the laughter, or the dim respect.

"A young black boy, to be exact. With an arm and a hand that resembled a trumpet."

"Like the musical instrument?" Asked Lo.

"Precisely." Said Mr. Bird. He opened his tweed jacked and pulled three daguerreotype photographs from the inside pocket, sliding them across the table.

The first photograph showed two young black women.

One was dark skinned, and the other was very light.

The lighter of the two women sat relaxed, in a tasseled brocade chair, wearing an off the shoulder evening dress, a broach choker, and a come-hither look in her eyes. While the darker woman stood erect in a floor length gingham dress with a high lace collar and a bustle, her hands placed carefully on the corner of the chair.

The second photograph showed the light skinned woman standing beside a much older and austere looking white man. She was wearing some sort of an ornately decadent costume, and burning holes into the camera lens with her eyes while the white man remained stringent.

Lo looked at Mr. Bird.

The air in the room suddenly felt heavy with nostalgia. Mr. Bird made a just-keep-going gesture with his eyes.

The final photograph showed the small black boy wearing round, wire framed glasses and sitting on the ridiculous little wooden stool. He was dressed up like a tin soldier and holding a shiny metallic trumpet up to his lips with one hand. Lo couldn't know for sure, but it looked as though it was of a fine making.

An opulent tasseled banner hung behind the boy. It read- Tino! The Magnificent Trumpet Boy!

The boy's other hand, the hand that in some sad irony had earned him his title, rested neatly across his lap.

The forearm was thin and abnormally long, and the muscles and tendons were warped and twisted, making for the appearance of curved valves under the boy's smooth skin. The end of the hand was rounded and fingerless, and the knuckles were curved severely, forming the shape of a bell. On top of the boy's wrist were his fingers, sticking straight up like the buttons on a trumpet.

"A handsome looking lad, aside from the unfortunate. Wouldn't you say so?" Said Mr. Bird. "My secretary, Miss Eaton, did some subtle snooping and came across at least twenty letters that the boy had written, in French, to the mistress of the man that owned the carnival. We both feel that she had quite a fondness for the boy and his musical talent. It seems he was quite gifted. The mistress, Clarabella I think her name was, was a mulatto prostitute from New Orleans. We're presuming she was of relation, and the one who taught the boy to speak and write the language. Rather elegantly I might add."

"The light skinned woman is named Clarabella?" Asked Lo.

"Yes." Said Mr. Bird. "Bewitching, is she not."

Bewitching thought Lo.

"Who is the old guy?"

"The owner of the carnival, I would imagine. A man by the name of Jameson. William Jameson. We haven't been able to acquire any other means to confirm... I'm sure the family is mortified by the fact that their money grew from such a milk weed."

Mr. Bird stared at the picture of the man, with disdain again in his eyes.

"Was the boy's real name Tino?"

Mr. Bird patted either side of his jacket, then pulled a tiny leather notebook from one of the outside pockets. He flipped through the rice paper thin sheets until he found what he was looking for.

"Antonio." Said Mr. Bird, as if he was still thinking. "Meaning of inestimable worth, or priceless, if I'm remembering my origins of language correctly."

Lo must have looked as sick as he felt, because Mr. Bird motioned at the waitress to bring water.

"Now, now my boy... Do not despair."

He was patting Lo's hand gently from across the table.

When the waitress brought the glass of water to the table Mr. Bird said, "My grandson isn't feeling well, my dear. Would you be a good girl and bring along some kind of a soup, or a broth. One must keep their hunger quelled."

The waitress smiled at Mr. Bird politely, like she only understood half of the things he'd said.

A large bowl of chicken minestrone and a napkin freshly dipped in ice water arrived at the table shortly.

"Ahh yes. Perfect." Said Mr. Bird. "You are such a lovely, dear creature."

The waitress's smile was big and real this time, and she gave Mr. Bird a little curtsey before she left.

Mr. Bird handed Lo the ice cold napkin and told him to place it behind his neck.

Lo placed it behind his neck.

"See my boy-- That's better isn't it? It happens to the best of us, unfortunately."

Lo agreed it was better.

Mr. Bird drank the very last bit of his martini, then reached over and finished Lo's in two long, smooth sips. He pushed the bowl of soup directly in front of Lo and motioned for him to start eating.

Lo shamelessly slurped down spoonfuls of the rich chicken soup as Mr. Bird watched.

Lo wiped his mouth with the napkin, then pushed the bowl slightly up and away from his place setting, and laid the napkin proper to the side.

"I'm going to tell you something about myself Russell, about my personal life-- I'm in love with a black girl from Harlem. A hairdresser. A real looker. Her name is Clementine, and she used to be a high class call girl. A whore for wealthy men."

Mr. Bird sat unfazed and listening.

"She has a son around the same age as the boy in the picture-- With a similar deformity of the hand, although not as severe. He, too, speaks French and loves to play the trumpet... His name is Antoine."

Mr. Bird leaned back and rubbed his chin slowly, taking it all in and putting each of the pieces into their proper place.

Just admitting to a man like Mr. Bird that he was in love with Tiny made the room stop spinning.

"I suppose, my boy, when you've lived as many lives as yourself-- You're bound to run into similarities somewhere along that wire... Does it mean that a coincidence of this kind is of no value? I should think not."

Mr. Bird looked unsettled at the idea of coincidence having no value, then leaned into the table.

"I believe that when things of this nature happen, that they happen for a reason-- And only the man questioning can place the true value on that reason... Sir."

"Are you sure you're not immortal?" Lo asked.

"Fortunately no, my boy."

"Can I keep these pictures for awhile?" Asked Lo.

"What pictures?" Said Mr. Bird.

It was business as usual.

### 21

Lo was pouring over the internet trying to find more information about old carnival side show attractions that might resemble Tino.

He couldn't find a thing. How could something so monumentally important to him be so minute in importance to history?

This is what a normal man must feel like, thought Lo. A needle in a haystack.

"How did your big day go?" Asked Tiny, when Lo answered his phone.

"Great-- Good... It was really weird." Said Lo.

"Do you want me to come up?"

"Of course."

"Do you want me to bring you some leftovers?"

"Of course."

"Do you wanna talk about it when I get up there?

"Of course not."

Tiny giggled. "Whatever you want, baby. I'll see you in a few."

After he'd finished the leftover lasagna and a couple of dried out bread sticks that had sat in the warmer drawer too long, he slid onto the sofa and asked for a sip of her root beer. She was curled up like a cat and reading a woman's magazine she'd brought up in her overnight tote.

Her feet felt like two warm muffins sitting on the top of his thighs.

"Can we talk for awhile?" Asked Lo.

"Of course we can talk for awhile, I just wanted to let you unwind... Your way."

"I've been unwinding my way for a long time."

She smiled at him over a pair of hot pink reading glasses.

"So what you're telling me, is that you're unwound."

"I'm unwound."

"Do you want me to wind you up again?" Tiny slid her warm little muffin foot onto his cock and pushed on it ever so lightly, as she pulled off her glasses and put the magazine down on the floor.

"I do... But I want you to look at something first."

Lo couldn't stop obsessing about the coincidences.

"Okay." She said, not offended in the least by his lack of immediate sexual response.

She leaned over the arm of the sofa and turned on the stereo, scanning through the stations trying to find something she liked.

Lo walked over to thr kitchen table, opened his satchel and riffled though it.

He pulled out the first two daguerreotypes and slid the third picture that showed the boy, sitting deformed and complacent under the garishly tasseled banner, back in the satchel.

When he walked back to Tiny, she was crouched in front of the stereo, turning the knob in a fruitless effort to make a station that was playing salsa music come in clear.

Lo stood behind her, trying not to look anxious.

"Tiny." Said Lo.

"Yeah."

"Tiny."

She glanced around and looked up at him.

"Yeah, baby... I'm all ears." She said, giving him a you're-acting-a-little-bit-crazy look and turning her attention back to the knob.

He picked her up off the Persian rug in one swift move and put her down on Sue Ellen's fancy wing back chair.

"Uh, oh... You know what happened last time I was in this chair." Tiny leaned back and giggled.

His cock moved a little to the left just thinking about it.

"Tiny-- I need to talk to you. Seriously!"

She sat straight up in the chair, and he watched as her face went from sex kitten to secretary in the blink of an eye.

"Okay- talk. I'm listening."

Lo suddenly felt embarrassed by his exceptionally dramatic approach.

"Tell me." Said Tiny.

"Okay-- I'm going to show you a couple of pictures, one at a time, and I want you to tell me the first thing that pops into your mind."

Lo heard the words come out of his mouth, then waved his hands in the air like that wasn't what he meant to say.

"Scratch that!" Lo said, thinking.

"Is this a game or something?"

"No honey. It's not a game." Said Lo. "I need to know how you feel about what you see-- About the pictures."

"Is this something freaky?" Asked Tiny.

"No!" Said Lo, grinning. "And why do you always think I'm up to something freaky?"

"I don't! I'm just sayin'."

Lo felt his cock move again and tried to focus, irritated at the sexuality that Tiny evoked in him.

He paced the floor a few times, and she watched him volley from the wing back chair.

"I have an idea." She said. "But you might hate it."

He knew full-well that underestimating her was like underestimating a beavers ability to build a damn.

"I'll sit on your lap and look at the pictures, and you try to feel the essence... Isn't that how your stuff works?"

He stared at her brilliance.

"What?" Said Tiny. "It's good, right?"

"Real good." Said Lo.

Lo motioned at her to get up from the wing back chair, then immediately sat down and shifted around flustered, until he was comfortable.

"Okay sit!" Said Lo, patting his thigh.

Tiny sat down on his lap and put her arm around his shoulder.

"Are you ready?" Asked Lo.

"I'm ready." Said Tiny, sounding almost as if she were humoring him.

Lo pulled the first picture from the shirt pocket of his oxford; the picture of the two young black women.

Tiny took the picture from his hand.

"Oh Lo, this is so old--" Tiny stared at the mulatto woman. "She's very pretty, isn't she... Did you know them? Or _her_?"

"No." Said Lo. "I didn't."

"Where was this taken?" She carefully flipped the picture over, then turned it back. "Who are they?"

"New Orleans." Said Lo trying to sense the slightest blip on Tiny's internal radar. "I'm not sure who the darker woman is, but the lighter woman's name was Clarabella."

Blip.

The smell of clover and her usual smell of determination was newly mixed with a tinge of jealously, and it quickly filled the air in the living room.

"I've never met either one of these women, Tiny." Said Lo, not wanting the night to end without her naked and in his bed.

"That choker around her neck-- That brooch." Tiny held the picture up closer to her face and studied it for a second. "It's beautiful, but it reminds me of something kinda creepy."

Lo froze.

"Doesn't it remind you of something creepy?" Asked Tiny.

Blip.

She put the picture down on her lap and gazed at it.

Lo felt his lower back getting hot and tried his best, his very best, to act casual.

"I don't know... I'm not sure what you mean by creepy. Try to explain it for me."

She looked down at the picture.

"Okay-- Now this is gonna sound weird... But it reminds me of one of those creepy little dolls, the cheaply made ones with big mesh hoop skirts, holding the plastic umbrellas. They always had a thin piece of velvet right around the neck area, with a teeny, tiny plastic button that was supposed to be a broach."

She looked at Lo to see if he knew what she was talking about.

He bounced her on his lap and shook his head because he honestly had no clue.

"Any way, baby, it looks uncomfortable... Beautiful but uncomfortable. The same way that damn doll looked uncomfortable at the carnival, sitting up high on the shelf. I wish I would have picked the goldfish! I can still remember it! It came in a little round bowl the size of a grapefruit."

Blip.

"You won it at a carnival?" Asked Lo, his heart starting to beat faster.

"Oh my god, it was so funny! I was in the fourth grade and my classroom went on a field trip to some shitty street carnival. That would never happen today. Can you imagine the liability? Anyway-- There we all were, and out of the blue I started to get scared. Me! For absolutely no reason. I think that I even cried. Then a boy named Terrence... Dawson. That was his last name. Can you believe I remember that? Terrence Dawson played some game where you pop balloons with darts, and he won, and let me pick the prize I wanted." Tiny was giggling all the way down memory lane.

"Wow, that sounds fun." Lo's voice was monotone and flat, and his face felt frozen.

"And I picked that creepy ass doll... I still don't know why. I left it on the subway the next day on purpose."

Blip, blip.

"Honey jump up for a second will you, I have to stretch." Said Lo, calculating the insurmountable odds in his head.

"Can I see the other picture?" Asked Tiny, thoroughly enjoying the game.

"No!"

"Okay. But why?"

"Because-- Because you were on my lap like that, and it made me... You know."

Tiny wasn't buying anything he was selling.

"Why are you so sweaty?"

Lo looked down at his oxford. It was soaked.

"I don't know, I don't know! I've had an intense day."

"Okay boo! Calm down, calm down..."

She took him by his hand and led him into the bedroom. She helped him unbutton his damp oxford, then watched as he pulled off his sweat soaked white undershirt and sat down on the corner of the bed.

"Tell me." Tiny said softly.

Lo put his head in his hands

"Something fucking crazy is happening to me Tiny-- Ever since I met you and Antoine, it's like I'm crazy attune to something, something specific, that even I shouldn't be able to sense... Or at the very least, care about."

Tiny sat down next to him on the bed.

"I think I need to go to New Orleans." Said Lo.

"What! Why? You did know that girl, didn't you!"

"No Tiny! I would tell you if I did. But somehow I feel like I know her now."

"What-- Lo baby, you're acting crazy... Take your pants off."

Lo stood up, undid his belt and pushed his gray flannel trousers and boxer shorts down to the floor around his ankles and wingtips.

Tiny leaned over and took his cock into her mouth, softly at first, then harder.

Lo moaned and pushed on her head gently to find a rhythm.

She sucked his cock for a couple of minutes, then stood up and pulled off her skin tight jeans. Lo noticed she wasn't wearing any under wear.

She laid down on her back, on top of the comforter and unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her pale pink bra. Lo could see her nipples were already hard through the soft satin.

He pulled one of the straps down, exposing her breast.

He sucked on it until she felt wet between her legs to the touch of his fingers.

"I'm going to fuck you hard, Tiny-- I need to."

"Okay, baby." Said Tiny, her face already looking satisfied. "Whatever you want."

He slid his cock in gently at first, to get it wet with her juice, then put both of his hands underneath her ass, lifting her slightly off the bed.

"Can I go all the way in, like last time?" Asked Lo, almost drooling on her shoulder

"I want you to... I love you deep inside of me like that."

It was the very first time Tiny said the three words he was dying to hear.

It was funny how context was all it took to make those three perfect words mean something completely different.

"You love me like that." Said Lo, his feelings starting to get hurt.

He held her legs wide apart and slammed his cock into her a few times.

She made a little moaning sound, then smiled up at him seductively like thank-you-please-may-I-have-another.

He was getting pissed off.

His entire world was turning upside down for this woman.

But it was fine. Everything was just fucking peachy because she loved him- like that.

He laid down on top of her and fucked her like he was a robot until she giggled and came. Twice. Then he rolled over and clicked on the fan.

"What's the matter?" Asked Tiny, tickling his back with her fingers.

"Nothing." Said Lo.

"Do you want me on my hands and knees?"

His cock stiffened.

Bewitching, he thought to himself.

"Damn it, Tiny." Said Lo, pulling himself up and onto his knees, then flipping her over onto her stomach and pulling her up onto all fours like a bitch in heat.

Her cunt was swollen up pink and he forked his tongue and licked it proper, trying to throw her off of her high horse.

It didn't work.

She groaned and moaned and squealed and giggled. It was exhausting, thought Lo.

She had no idea, wasn't even interested in what he'd been through for her today.

Lo was the one in love.

Lo was the one tormented.

And now, it seemed, completely exposed and susceptible to new and disturbing sensations from every angle imaginable.

"Stop." Said Tiny, catching her breath.

Lo stopped.

"I wanted to ask you something tonight that's important to me, but your acting like a total ass."

"What do you want to ask me?" Lo asked, rolling his eyes.

"Will you spoon fuck me?" She glanced over her shoulder.

Classic, thought Lo. Spoon fucking now qualifies as an important question.

Lo slid his cock into her and tried to focus only his pleasure.

"Will you put your chin over my shoulder, so I can kiss you?" Asked Tiny, trying to make nice.

Lo put his palm down on the mattress next to hers and put his head on her shoulder, still spoon fucking her like she'd asked him to.

His bewitching queen.

It felt amazing, even though he was too upset and disappointed to let her kiss him.

"Lo." Said Tiny, in a soft animal pant.

"What?"

"You love me right?" Asked Tiny.

"You know I do." Said Lo, fucking her harder, because he felt like a fool.

"Then I...want you...to marry me...cause I love you too...and I'm a nice girl."

Lo wasn't sure if he'd heard her right, so he slowed his rhythm and turned his face towards hers, pushing his chin into her collar bone and putting his ear near her lips.

"You want to marry me?" Asked Lo, stopping altogether.

"Yeah."

"Because you love me."

"Yeah!"

"I've never been married." Said Lo.

"Good! Me neither." Said Tiny.

"Can we do it tomorrow at the court house?" Asked Lo.

"Okay."

Lo told Tiny to tell him when she was ready, because he wanted to cum with her.

"I've been ready, Mr. Grouchy."

He swallowed the bitter saliva that had been building in his mouth from dejection, and five thrusts later they were cumming together like spoons.

### 22

Knock- knock. Knock- knock- knock- knock- knock...

Lo heard Jack stumble from his bed in the posh apartment. Four solid walled rooms away from the door.

"Let me in Jack, I need to talk to you. Now!" By the time Jack's feet hit the floor, Lo could smell that he was up and walking.

Jack unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

"It's totally weird when you do that, Lo-- It's like you have fucking X-ray vision or something... It's not fair."

"You're just pissed that you can't do it." Said Lo.

A zig-zagged line of sewing print was pressed into Jack's cheek from his pillowcase.

"I know I am. Can you imagine the shit I'd be doing?"

Jack shuffled into the kitchen scratching his butt through his boxer shorts and yawning.

"Do you want some coffee?" The right side of Jack's hair was picture perfect, and the left side was standing straight up on end.

He stood in front of the coffee maker and opened the lid, looking inside of it like he wasn't sure what went where, or how.

"Wait a minute-- How did you get up here? The doorman didn't buzz me." Asked Jack.

"Your doorman and me understand each other."

Jack rolled his eyes at Lo, then pursed his lips at the coffee maker like something important about the small appliance was starting to make sense.

"I'll tell you what." Said Jack. "I'm starting to really like the new and improved you."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

Lo knew exactly what he meant.

"I want to hear you say it!" Said Lo.

Jack looked at Lo and shrugged.

"Okay dickhead, I'll say it-- You're not a basket case of highs and lows anymore. You seem more stable. More like my old buddy.... It's been awhile, that's all."

Lo smiled and rolled a toothpick back and forth between his fingers.

"Really." Lo said, sarcastically.

"Really." Said Jack, seriously. "And I gotta tell you big guy-- Whatever you're doing with that woman, keep doing it, because it's working. And that's what life's about. Take me for instance. I think I might be getting serious about Sheila. The redhead. And I mean real emotions... Not just the to make me cum emotions."

Lo wanted to laugh, but liked the compliment and Jack's bullshit all the same.

"Wow! That is deep." Said Lo. "I mean with the emotional cumming and all."

"Keep it up, Lo... But someday you might just understand where I'm going with this." Jack was staring at the glass coffee carafe, in anticipation of the first drip.

"Where you're going is downtown. Today. In three hours-- To be my best man."

Jack's head dipped and turned.

"You're fucking joking."

"Nope-- I'm new and improved, remember? Stable... No more highs and lows."

"In three hours!" Jack opened his eyes wide and looked at his watch.

"In three hours." Lo said.

"Wait! What the fuck Lo... How in the hell is this going to work?"

"I don't know Jack, but I'm guessing if you stick your face in those fancy law books of yours, you'll figure it out."

They stared at each other like a scene out of an old western movie.

"Three hours?" Asked Jack.

"Three hours." Said Lo.

"I gotta get in the shower, get dressed and get to my office... Then I'll meet you downtown." Jack was hurrying down the hall to the bathroom. "Wait! I need to shave. Maybe I'll bring a change of clothes for the courthouse in case something spills..."

"Jack." Said Lo.

"You know what-- I'm going to shave at the office. Fuck it! I need that zip drive from Teresa's desk... She's probably at the office already. I'll call her in the car! She can start searching for cases along these lines."

"Jack!" Said Lo, almost shouting.

"Whaa, Whaat?" Said Jack, his mouth foaming with toothpaste.

"I'm getting married today." Lo was grinning.

Jack spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and turned to Lo smiling. Light blue foam covered his lips and teeth.

"Congratulations, big guy. You're getting married today."

Jack spent an hour trying to convince the assigned judge that if the great state of New York was going to refuse to recognize Lo and Tiny's request to marry, then he in return would slap the entire state with a discrimination suit based on ageism and race.

Lo's age being infinite, and his race being immortal.

The judge looked at Jack like he was clever, but crazy none the less.

"Let's just take a minute and look at it together." Jack said, to the judge. "And believe me, this one here..." And he motioned at Tiny. "Looks amazing in photographs. Can you imagine the adverse publicity this could bring? And I'd have no problem whatsoever pulling the black and white card."

The judge looked as if he wished he'd never come back from his lunch break.

Lo asked if he could speak with the judge privately, and ten minutes later, everyone involved was shaking hands. Lo gave the judge a generous tip; allowing him to live the rest of his life.

"Best wishes and good luck to you." The judge said to Tiny, as if she was going to need it.

"Is Bailey really your last name, sir?" Asked the court secretary, when she was reviewing the forms that Lo and Tiny filled out to make things official.

"Does it really matter?" Asked Lo. "Think about it."

A couple of I-dos later, and the two were officially married.

Jack suggested champagne at the Ritz.

"Cool." Said Tiny. "That sounds nice... This all happened so fast, I guess we could use a little bit of convention."

Convention.

Lo's mind inadvertently flashed back to when Samuel told him he was getting married.

"She's pregnant Lo-- By a man that refuses to claim her... She'll be a trollop and the poor little baby, that innocent little soul, will be a bastard."

"Samuel. You know what this means don't you? You'll have to lay with a woman."

"But I'll have a real life, Lo! A real man's life of convention... And a child I can call my own. Who cares if it's not in my nature? I'll change my nature!"

Lo shook Samuel's hand and embraced him. Wishing him well and good tidings.

Samuel made Lo promise that he would be god parent to the unborn bastard.

Lo had promised. Touched.

"Now take me for a strong ale and let us celebrate my happy windfall!" Said Samuel, beaming proudly.

Lo took Samuel to the local inn within the village and bought the entire crowd round after round of the darkest brew.

When the stews were finished and the fires began to die down, Lo walked Samuel back to his home. It was nothing more than a tiny two room shack by modern standards.

Inside sat Samuel's future bride.

She was little more than fifteen and just beginning to swell with child. The girl sat patiently, waiting by the fire in her night clothes.

"I'm honored to meet you, my dear." Said Lo.

"Thank you--" Said the girl, looking at Samuel as if she were unsure of their safety.

"He's my friend, Grace." Samuel slurred. "Our friend... And he'll never let anything bad cross our threshold."

Lo helped Samuel onto the straw mat in the corner that sufficed for a bed, and Grace carefully unbuttoned and pulled Samuel's leather boots from his feet.

"I'll do what I can." Lo said to the girl bluntly. "I can make sure that no one, and I mean no one, will question the child's legitimacy... But I'm afraid that the rest of it, will be up to the two of you- Together."

"He's my best friend." Said the girl, looking at Samuel lying half asleep on the rudimentary straw mat, a smile of contentment on his sleeping face.

"That's good." Said Lo. "Friendship can take you farther than you'll ever know, Grace."

The two had looked at each other silently, knowingly sharing Samuel's deepest secret.

"Hey baby-- Are you okay? Your face looks kinda sad." Tiny asked, as they stood at the white maitre d' stand.

Jack was busy putting the maitre d' through his paces in search of the perfect table.

Lo sighed and pulled her in close, leaning down and giving her a big kiss on her thick, glossy lips.

"The ink is still wet." Whispered Tiny. "It's not too late for you to run for the hills. I'm in five inch heels you know."

Lo kissed her again with as much love as he felt in his heart. He heard a camera click.

"You're making a scene." Said Tiny, looking up into his face seductively.

"I'm stealing the show.

"Ooh, damn... You are bad." Giggled Tiny.

"I'm lucky." Said Lo.

"My lucky devil."

He laughed, and said he'd honestly never been called that before.

"Ever?... Not by a woman? Really?" Tiny put her hand on her hip and looked at him with one eyebrow raised over the top of her designer sunglasses, like she knew he was lying.

"Not by my _wife_." Said Lo, smiling down at her.

"Okay. I can deal with that." Said Tiny.

Jack was on his phone, standing across the room. He motioned at Lo, towards a big booth that two bus boys were busy setting up with china and crystal.

"Sheila's coming! My bitchy redhead." Shouted Jack from across the busy room, and pointing to his phone. The patrons looked at him like he was well dressed riffraff.

"My best friend got married today." Jack announced to the room professionally, motioning towards Lo and Tiny. "So you're going to have to cut me some slack in the overtly loud celebratory department."

Most of the patrons recognized Lo from different fund raisers or the society page, and raised their glasses politely towards him and his new bride.

Tiny smiled like a senator and wrapped her arm around Lo's side, confidently owning her decision.

The entire crowd was charmed out of a sheer respect for her bravado.

After three bottles of champagne, an amazing lunch and a miniature wedding cake whipped up specially by the hotel's pastry chef, the wedding party was ready to throw in the hat and call it a day.

"I forgot to ask you guys..." Said Sheila as Jack helped her up from the booth. "Where are you going for the honeymoon? Do people even have to do that anymore?" She looked at Jack, and he made a face like he didn't have a clue.

"I think I wanna go to New Orleans for a few days." Said Tiny, glancing at Lo. "Listen to music-- Eat some crayfish and drink hurricanes... Doesn't that sound fun?"

"I love that idea! So romantic." Sheila said, squeezing Jack's hand.

Jack smacked her on the ass. "What? Switzerland's not romantic enough for you? What's with this dame!"

She giggled and took Tiny's hand.

The two women walked slowly through the restaurant towards the lobby, talking about the effects of humidity on their own personal hairstyles, and exactly what Tiny should bring to New Orleans in the way of outfits.

"Call me when you guys get there dickhead, just to check in." Said Jack, and he hugged Lo hard, before sliding into the cab after Sheila.

"We will." Said Lo, shutting the cabs door.

"Oh, look Sheila! It's Mr. and Mrs. We." Laughed Jack, his elbow hanging out of the cabs window.

"Alvederzane!" Said Sheila, leaning across his lap.

"Finally this broads getting with the program!" Jack winked at Lo.

They waved as the cab pulled away.

"Do you really want to go to New Orleans?" Asked Lo.

"Yeah! Cause _you_ really want to go to New Orleans-- And I think we should. It'll be an adventure... Our first adventure as a married couple."

Lo nudged her with his hip.

She nudged him back.

"You swear you didn't fuck that high yellow girl in the picture?" Her eyebrow was raised above her sunglasses for the second time.

A cab driver slowed down just to look at her.

"I swear I didn't even know her Clementine."

"Okay, boo. Whatever you say. We'll just have to see about that."

"Oh my god!" Said Lo, laughing. "You're too funny, Tiny... And where in the world did you hear that expression?"

"I'm a black girl, Lo-- Been a black girl my whole life... Not the darkest, not the lightest, but I've heard 'em all."

She perched herself on the edge of the sidewalk, and held two perfectly manicured fingertips out for a taxi.

Exactly four seconds later, the two of them were nestled in a cab driven by an Indian man that smiled at Tiny in the rear view mirror for all of the wrong reasons.

Married proper, and on their way home to tell her boo crew the happy news.

"My girl got married!" Said Elly, and she held her arms out to Tiny and embraced her.

"I got married! Can you believe it, Momma? After all this time..." Tiny held onto her mom as Elly stood in her house slippers and moved Tiny's body slowly back and forth, like they were dancing.

"You were just waiting for the right one." Said Elly, as she released Tiny and turned to look up at Lo. "And here he stands... My magical son."

Elly held out her arms towards Lo and embraced him in the same fashion.

Tiny put her hands together and held them up to her face, as if she were saying a prayer. Elly moved Lo slowly back and forth, in the same loving dance.

"I sure wish Antoine were here. He could get in on all of this hugging." Said Lo, softly over Elly's shoulder.

Elly leaned back and said, "Do you know my Antoine? He is such a good boy. Don't you think so?"

Lo agreed with Elly, as she stood smiling up at his face and holding onto his hand, swinging his arm lightly back and forth.

Tiny's hands fell from her face and she looked around the room at the piles of meticulously folded laundry and an old dust rag that was left mid stride next to a can of furniture polish. They'd obviously surprised Elly with their big news in the middle of her daily routine.

Lo glanced at Tiny and grinned.

Tiny looked slightly out of sorts, but she grinned back.

"I have something that might be of interest to everyone in this room!" Said Lo, trying to distract the two women from their own personal thinking. Regardless of the difference in actual thoughts.

They looked at him, wearing completely different expressions across their faces.

"Ooh wee, some more magic!" Said Elly, clapping her hands and looking over at Tiny in excitement.

Tiny flashed a quick smile towards her mom, but her face turned to Lo, unsure, like she wasn't in the mood for anything that she could possibly describe as freaky.

"No honey... It's nothing weird. Just let me show you guys." Lo walked to the foyer of her apartment and dug through his leather satchel that he'd dropped at the door on his way in.

When he found what he was looking for, he sat down at the kitchen table and spread the contents of the thick gray folder out across the smooth speckled Formica top. Tiny stood behind him, looking down at the glossy colored prints and listing sheets that were beginning to cover the entire table like a expensive canvas.

Elly clapped her hands again and giggled. "I like this trick! It's shiny bright!"

"Are you buying us a house?" Asked Tiny.

"We're so out of here-- All of us..." Said Lo, sitting straight back against the chair, his pupils sharply focused as he surveyed all of the choices.

"I feel like I need to sit down." Said Tiny, beginning to look overwhelmed.

Lo motioned for her to sit down on his lap, calling it her thrown.

"Ooh, wee-- Look at this one... And this one!" One of the pictures Elly was holding was a two million dollar Tudor in upstate, and the other was an artsy penthouse near Tribeca.

Tiny picked up one of the glossy sheets that showcased a lavishly tiled crystal blue swimming pool in Long Island.

"I don't even know how to swim." Said Tiny, her brow was starting to furrow. "But Antoine loves to, when he gets the chance..."

Lo could sense uncertainty, teetering on a fine wire along with hopefulness. The smell of plain old fashioned fear was coming off of Tiny's body in small, steady whiffs.

"Look at me, Tiny." Said Lo.

She looked at him.

"The four of us-- We're going to have fun with this... The world is at our feet you and me. Let's just enjoy it w _hile_ _we_ _can_."

He smelled her fear turn to sadness when he emphasized while-we-can.

"Okay." Said Tiny, nodding her head and swallowing.

The highlights of their future sat in front of them, expertly photographed and printed on a fine quality stock.

A future held up firmly by infinite magic, finite time and mid-century Formica.

### 23

"Did you hear?" Jules asked Steve, as the children passed swiftly around them, like a faster, more dominant moving herd.

The kids pushed open the glass front doors and poured down the stairs for an afternoon brake- from-structure, as stated in the school's brochure.

"Of course I heard." Said Steve, and he told the children to watch their steps. "And you know it's killing me-- Did you see those pictures in the Times from the MET party? Gosh, that kids so lucky... It's like having a time capsule for a step father."

"I know, right!" Said Jules. "A cool, handsome, artsy but understated bad-ass time capsule."

They stood briefly in the hallway, amused by the thought and each other.

The laughter from the children outside filtered slowly back up the stairs through the opened glass doors and into the empty hall and corridors, sounding haunting and timeless.

"Couldn't have happened to a cooler kid though, you have to admit." Said Jules.

"Oh, I know-- I would have had to quit if it was some kid like Grant, or that darn Blaine Whitfield... Can you imagine one of those little creeps having that advantage on top of everything else they have? I would seriously have to quit."

Jules laughed as they walked towards the glass doorway that magnified a spectrum of light so brightly that they both had to squint.

When they reached the wrought iron bench, Jules sat down and Steve stood picking at the bright yellow paint that was just beginning to flake off of one of the ornately scrolled iron arms.

"I'm dying for a cigarette." Said Jules.

"Not that again."

"Did I say I was going to the alley?"

"No."

"Then quit hassling me." Her voice held the tiniest bit of an edge.

"Hey, I want you to live a long time. Is that so bad?" Asked Steve, sitting down next to her.

"No-- But I'm an artistic soul, and sometimes I need something bad."

"Oh, that's so much B.S.!" Said Steve.

Jules pulled one of her knees to her chest and hugged it with her arms.

"Would you say something profane?" Asked Jules.

"No."

"Do it! I have to hear profanity leave your lips."

"You'll never hear profanity leave my lips."

"Why? It's so fun Steve... It literally feels good. Just do it once, for me."

"No way in Haiti."

Jules turned from him like she was offended.

A little Iranian girl named Mesa ran briefly in front of them, making a figure eight in the grass as she chased after a large moth of some sort.

"I think your entire persona is too uptight." Said Jules, watching the little girl.

"History teachers are supposed to be uptight."

"It's not very sexy."

Steve looked away from the grass, and over at Jules.

Her red Swedish clog balanced precariously on the end of her toe, as she popped a piece of nicotine gum into her mouth and bit down on it, hard at first, then softer, until the slightest muscle in her jaw moved occasionally under the surface of her ghostly pale skin.

"You just love to torment me!" Said Steve.

"No I don't."

"I could say every profanity uttered by man, in every language known to exist, and you still wouldn't hook up with me."

Jules jaw moved slightly.

"See! Oh my gosh, Jules, see how you are... I'm not changing my entire code of ethics for nothing."

"Fuck your code of ethics." Jules stared down into the grass, and tried her very best not to giggle.

"Sadly, I can only wish." Said Steve, shaking his head.

### 24

"All of the phone numbers are on the refrigerator." Said Tiny.

"For the fiftieth time, Peaches, I got it." Ty rolled his eyes at Lo.

Tiny tried her best to hold on longer as Antoine gave her a quick hug, but he squirmed away like a rabbit, adjusted his glasses, and walked over to Lo.

"Do you want one, too?" Asked Antoine, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Sure. I'll take one of those." Said Lo, and the kid reached up and quickly squeezed Lo around his chest, then stepped back and gave him a high five.

"Wait! I messed it up." Said Antoine. "Let's do it again."

Lo gave him another high five, and Antoine nodded his head, completely satisfied with his second attempt.

"Will you guys bring me back something?" Asked Antoine.

"If Ty tells me you've been behaving appropriately." Said Tiny.

Antoine looked as if he might need to revise his game plan.

"I won't bring anybody any trouble." Said Antoine. "I promise."

Tiny called him her little boo boo bear, and squeezed his smooth brown cheek with one hand while digging through her purse with the other.

He glanced around the room quickly to see who noticed.

"Ain't nobody gonna be doing nothin' suspect up in here!" Said Tyrone, sipping a cup of tea and smiling as he watched Tiny trying desperately to get herself together.

Lo rocked calmly in Elly's rocking chair, enjoying every moment of his newly official life of chaos.

"Will you call me to say hi, Lo? I mean-- If you want to." Asked Antoine.

"Of course I will. You can call me, too... Whenever you want to."

Antoine looked as if something important had just been established between the two of them, and Lo, oddly enough, felt the same way.

"My baby's going on a plane ride!" Said Elly, out of the blue. She said it again, then went back to making a loaf of onion bread from scratch, kneading the dough on a floured, wooden cutting board in the kitchen.

"She sure is!" Said Ty, and he sipped his tea, like holding down the fort was absolutely no-thing.

"You call me if you need anything, Tyrone. I put some cash under the cotton ball jar in the bathroom." Said Lo. "And here's something from me-- For doing this."

Lo handed him a sterling silver lighter that once belonged to a very powerful, impossibly corrupt man.

"What's this?" Asked Ty.

"A nest egg."

"Why Lo... I just don't know what to say."

"Say thank you."

Ty flipped the cover exposing the flint and pulled the rigid barrel with his thumb. A shallow white flame covered the top of the lighter.

"Cousin Tee Tee is always in need of a good, strong flamer. I thank you kindly." He winked at Lo, and grinned. Lo smiled.

"Will you do some etchings of gravestones for me? From one of those cemeteries that float? Did you know they float on the ground down there?" Said Antoine, excited.

"Floating cemeteries!" Said Tiny, sounding overly excited herself, as she put on her earrings at the mirror in the foyer. "Antoine, I think you need to settle down... Read a book."

Antoine dropped his shoulders and pulled on his own belt loops.

"I'll see what I can do." Whispered Lo.

Antoine smiled, shifting his weight from side to side and trying to act like he was interested in what was on their bookshelf.

"Okay!" Tiny announced to the room. "I'm ready."

Antoine and Tyrone waved them off as the cab pulled away from the stoop.

"I can't remember the last time I took a vacation." Said Tiny, knowing full-well that the last time was never.

Lo immediately felt terrible that she'd called it a vacation.

"I know that you know that this is more of a business thing. Like a unsolved-mystery trip." Said Lo, wincing when he heard himself say it.

"I know that you know that I know." Said Tiny. "But I'm still getting the hell up and out of dodge for a week, and it feels great!"

"We'll go wherever you want for a real honeymoon-- Anywhere in the world... And honestly I think we should start traveling extensively, as a family. It would be educational for Antoine, and good stimulation for Elly."

She gave him a you-so-crazy look, as the cab sped along to JFK.

When they got to the hotel, the manager greeted him personally and escorted them to the suite Lo had asked for.

It was as beautiful as he remembered it, twenty some odd years before when he'd been Sue Ellen's escort on a antique buy in the French Quarter. She'd wanted to purchase a couple of original oil paintings from a reclusive, odd little man that lived on Ursala street in a wonderfully preserved French home from the eighteenth century, full of rare and unique antiquities.

He wondered if the man was still alive.

Lo had every name of every dealer he'd ever worked with within the Quarter, and a few more contacts outside of the city that might be of use to him.

"What are you going to do tomorrow?" Asked Tiny.

"What do you mean?" Asked Lo.

"I mean, what are you going to do to find out about whatever it is your looking for?"

"I guess I'll make some phone calls and find out who knows what."

"About that old white man in the picture?"

"How do you know about him?"

"I looked at it when you were asleep."

"Tiny."

"Well, I was curious... And jealous. I thought the other picture might have been that woman naked or something."

"Oh my god Tiny, what is it about that woman?"

"Oh, get over it, Mr. tearing up pillows and chewing on sticks!"

"It was a two by four."

They both chuckled.

"Who is that man?" Asked Tiny, turning on the water in the bathroom to fill the tub.

"His name is William Jameson-- Was William Jameson. He owned amusements... Street carnivals."

"I didn't know you could own a carnival."

"I guess he made big money from it."

"Like Barnum and Bailey?"

"Like Barnum and Bailey-- Without all the glitz."

Tiny walked out of the bathroom wearing the a plushy white bathrobe, the hotels emblem stitched elegantly on the lapel.

She laid down across the bed.

"Do you know what I'm gonna do tomorrow?

"What?" He pulled on the robes terry cloth sash, until Tiny lay exposed on a fluffy, white cloud of cotton.

"I'm getting every fancy spa treatment on the menu."

"Pace yourself, so you can make it to the finish line."

"I always make it to the finish line."

When he climbed on top of her and put his hand between her thighs, she was wet and ready to go.

"See baby-- I start out strong, and I finish even stronger."

Lo kissed her softly on her neck and told her she was nasty. Really nasty.

"Not really." Whispered Tiny, into his ear.

No, thought Lo. Not really.

He looked down at her.

A perfect female specimen with beautifully shaped legs, firm but bouncy tits, and just enough jiggle in her ass to make it a fun ride.

She was stretched out and relaxed underneath his weight, like she was waiting for him.

My wife, thought Lo.

He kissed her on her lips, then slid his cock deep inside of her, as far as it could go.

She inhaled and moaned, then began to wrap each limb around his back, one after the other, like they were entirely separate entities.

Tiny came hard, twice, and dug her nails into his back.

He pulled himself up and wrapped one forearm under her ass and carried her to the bathroom, sitting her down on the marble counter top.

"Damn! It's cold!" Said Tiny, her voice squeaked.

Lo pressed one palm down hard onto the marble slab.

"Ooh! Now it's kinda hot." She said as she leaned back against the mirror, rubbing her breasts gently up and down with both hands.

Lo watched her for a while, then pushed her hands to the side like he'd seen enough. He squeezed her tits firmly with his own hands and sucked on her hard nipples.

She'd been stroking his balls softly the entire time, and Lo could feel the semen building up like a storm.

"I want to look at us in the mirror." Said Lo, clearing his throat

They looked at each other, then around the room, then at each other.

"I could bend over the tub." Said Tiny.

"Then I can't see your face." Said Lo.

They looked around the room.

Lo caught a glimpse of himself, naked in the mirror with a boner, as Tiny stood naked next to him, with one purple lacquered fingernail up to her lower lip, like she was thinking.

You would have thought they were picking out curtains.

She climbed up onto the counter top and was facing the mirror. She was perched up on her toes exactly like a frog ready to leap, and her ass stuck out perfectly over the side of the marble slab.

"Get me from behind and you'll see everything." Said Tiny, tapping on the mirror with her fingernail.

In all of his existence, he'd never known a woman as creative as Tiny.

Wife or no wife, and that was no lie.

He felt his tongue split unintentionally from excitement, and he bit down on it, hard.

A couple drops of blood mixed with drool fell from the corner of his mouth to the floor.

Tiny watched from the mirror, unaffected, as it pooled on the marble.

His queen, thought Lo wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and pushing deep inside of her.

She started to bounce up and down on his cock, slowly at first and then quickly. They stared into the mirrors reflection, seduced by one another.

He watched as her face ran the gamut of pleasurable emotion, over and over and over.

Blood began to drip onto her shoulder from his mouth, and when he licked it off, she turned and sucked on his forked and bloodied tongue. He shifted his eyes and watched her in the mirror, suddenly wanting to cum terribly.

Her thick, sparkly lips were smeared with blood, as she placed both of her hands on the mirror and continued to bounce.

Lo started to cum, without being able to stop. He couldn't believe it.

She threw her head back and moaned as Lo pushed every drop into her swollen cunt.

"I'm sorry." Said Lo, embarrassed. "Now _you_ are freaking me out."

"It was good, wasn't it? My ass looked kinda fat, though." The bloody smears on her face, took nothing away from her sweet expression.

Lo reached across the counter top and pulled a neatly folded washcloth from a pile of fresh towels. He dipped it into the warm bathwater and rang it out lightly, then ran it across her lips.

"Your ass is perfect. And I'm sorry if I got too excited and bit my tongue."

"It was exciting, wasn't it?" Said Tiny, pushing him gently aside as she stepped into the warm bathwater.

Lo looked at her like she was crazy.

"All of this doesn't gross you out? I mean, I gross myself out sometimes... A lot."

"No." Said Tiny. "It's just your blood."

"I mean my tongue, and my horns... My feet for Christ sakes. Even I hate my feet."

"It's different-- But it's your parts. Like I tell Antoine when he starts up with the feeling sorry for himself... You came out of the factory this way, on purpose."

"Factory parts." Said Lo.

"Factory parts." Said Tiny.

Lo told her to make way, because he was coming in.

She stood up while he reclined against the back of the tub, then sat down in between his legs and leaned back against his chest, squeezing warm water from a washcloth over her breasts.

"Antoine's lucky to have you as a mom, and we're both lucky to have you setting us straight about our parts."

"You're going to be a good father figure, Lo-- A real good dad."

Lo felt his chest get tight.

"Do you really think so?" Asked Lo.

"Oh, hell yeah... I knew it the very first night we hung out together." Said Tiny.

"How?"

"You wished you could fix his hand for me-- For him... You get it. You know how hard it is for a child to be different... For a person to be different."

A strange puzzle piece of memory moved across Lo's mind, and was gone in an instant. Like a secret resting idle and refusing to leave his subconscious. Something he did long ago, too long to actually remember, but still hardwired into his being.

Lo knew by the feeling in his chest that it was something powerful.

A power for good.

### 25

The next morning, Lo and Tiny ate breakfast together outside under an awning in a cafe just down the street from the hotel. The chicory coffee was magnificent and reminded him of the old days. The real old days.

After a leisurely meal of eggs, smoked ham and fresh fruit, Tiny stood up, kissed Lo on his forehead, and said she was off like a prom dress.

"Don't you want a beignet?"

"No! I saw my ass in that mirror, thank you very much."

"Don't go walking around anywhere off the beaten path." Said Lo. "Stay in the quarter Tiny, I mean it. "

"Who's walking around? I'm going to get a full body massage and a pedicure at the hotel spa. I'll see you later on, if you want to hook up for dinner."

"Of course."

"Cool, boo. Bye!"

She ran across the cobblestone street like a gazelle, and waved over her shoulder at him. He watched as her shape got smaller and smaller down the crooked sidewalk, then disappeared around a corner.

Lo paid the check and dug around in his pocket to find the piece of paper he'd written some addresses and phone numbers on. The waitress took the check and did a double take, then walked into the cafe and whispered in the ear of another waitress.

Both girls giggled and smiled in his direction. He waved politely and put on his sunglasses, wishing like hell he'd remembered to bring a hat.

The first phone number was sort of a wild card and had been disconnected.

The woman was a dealer in occult antiquities; extremely rare tarot cards, witch boards and gypsy paraphernalia. She was also known to have some serious behavioral problems. She would periodically disappear from the auction scene for months at a time, missing important showings and consultations, then resurface and act as if she'd never been gone.

The second phone number was a familiar contact.

"Lo! How are you? I heard you're finally doing jewelry-- That's fantastic! Just the best news ever... Of course... You're in town? Totally! Now? Sure, I'm a beggar not a chooser... I'm excited... I'll be waiting."

When he got to the woman's apartment, she gave him a long hug and showed him into the parlor.

Her house was a shotgun style bungalow, and one room moved straight back into the next. It was painted in golds and purples, with a deep green velvet sofa in the middle covered in cat fur, and walls strung with pink Christmas lights and beads of every imaginable color from parades past.

"Move it Bacchus!" Said the woman, and a black cat jumped from the sofa. The cat looked back at Lo as if it wanted to be on the floor, walking away.

"I like your new place, Saffy." Said Lo.

"It's a crazy dump, but it's my crazy dump!" Said the woman, like she was well aware it resembled a Mardi gras float.

"Are you still drinking, for drinking's sake?" Asked Saffy.

"Of course."

She poured them both a whiskey over ice, then threw some fresh mint on the top and muttled it along the sides of the glass with a spoon.

"God-- Remember when my mom would drink? Now that was funny."

"That _was_ funny!" Said Lo, thinking back to a time when he sat in her mom's new-age-mod living room.

Saffy's mom used to sip straight gin from a beautiful, early Chow Dynasty tea cup, and act seriously as if it were a fragrant blend of oohlong.

"Remember she'd stumble and blame it on our gold shag carpeting." Laughed Saffy.

"That's right." Said Lo. "You were so young then. I can't believe you knew what was going on."

"Young isn't dumb."

"No-- It isn't."

Through his eyes, Saffy was still the fun loving little girl in bell bottoms he remembered from the late seventies.

"But your mom was a fine southern lady." Said Lo. "And ladies know what to hide and what not to hide-- And when it came to the business, she was tight. That woman could spot an imitation a mile away, without ever laying her hands on it... Not too many people I've met, and I've met thousands, could do that."

"She could, couldn't she." The laughter was gone from her voice. "Thanks for reminding me of that, Lo."

"Thank you, for the memories-- She loved showing you off to all of us..." Said Lo. "Remember when you, her, and that friend of her's Roberta, would dress up in old hats and ball gowns and have high-end yard sales, then give up, and go to the Russian tea room instead!"

Saffy was laughing again, and Lo laughed with her.

She wiped at the corner of her eyes and sipped her whiskey.

"What in the hell brings you all the way down to Nola, Lo, all the way down to me?"

"I need your help, Saffy."

"I'm listening." She said, and took another sip of her whiskey.

Lo pulled the pictures from his jacket, and told the woman everything he knew.

"It's BJ's novelties now, I'm guessing-- Like a Spencers gifts, only not as classy, if you can believe that. William Jameson- Bill Jameson- B and J... It was founded here, and I think their headquarters are still somewhere in Louisiana. The symmetry certainly makes sense."

Lo looked at her from across the sofa, and for a brief moment he thought he saw her mother, with her long blond hair parted perfectly down the middle, sitting right next to her.

"It's in your blood Saffy. You've got your mom's quick sense."

Saffy sighed, shaking her head.

"I like crappy-crap, and BJ's sells crappy-crap-- I bet they own the stool, and anything else associated with these people in the picture... I'm pretty sure some of the Jameson family still live in the garden district, but I'm not sure where."

"You're kidding me!"

"I'm not-- They're locals. Eccentric as shit, so I've heard, but can you blame them with stuff like this hanging over their heads?" She held up the picture of Tino to solidify her point. "Now I could be wrong..."

"You're not wrong. I can smell it all over you." Said Lo.

"What's it smell like?"

"Cut grass. Clean, and sweet, and simple."

"Nope! That's just me. Clean, and simply sweet." Saffy laughed and downed the last of her whiskey, as Baccus cat jumped into her lap and gave Lo the evil eye.

"I've got something for you, Saffy." Lo pulled a gold inscribed promise ring from his pocket, and handed it the woman.

She turned the band slowly in her hand, squinting as she read the inscription.

"Wow! I know who this belonged to." Said Saffy, shocked.

"I thought you might."

"You don't owe me anything, Lo."

"I know I don't, but I want you to have it."

"What should I do with it?" Asked Saffy.

"Sell it at auction, and buy yourself a nice cat. A real nice cat."

The woman gave Lo a kiss on the cheek.

"You always did show up at just the right time." Said Saffy. "How is that?"

"Dumb luck." Said Lo.

"Luck isn't dumb." Smiled Saffy.

"No-- It isn't." Lo said, smiling back at the woman.

Starting at the edge of the Quarter, Lo rode the trolley, sitting back against the wooden bench and watching as the city passed leisurely by the banks and business district, then through the romance and timelessness of the garden district, and all of the way uptown on St. Charles Street, ending at Audubon park.

House after house. Building by building.

One after the other.

Standing casually side by side, like a group of siblings that you can tell just by looking are of the same distinctive blood line, albeit completely different and entirely individual. Each one as magnificently offbeat as the next, regardless of the amount of historically accurate restoration, or the eyesore state of blatant decay.

Lo loved this city when he'd first seen it a hundred and fifty some odd years before.

It was the only place in America that he felt might honestly never change, or at least never willingly submit to change.

And if it was forced into submission, it would never, ever, admit to such a defeat.

Yellow fever. Fire. Hurricanes. Floods.

New Orleans was like a fine southern lady that stumbled from too much booze, regained her composure and blamed the subtle misstep on the shag carpeting.

He decided to get off of the trolley and take a walk around one of the neighborhoods he remembered.

He'd forgotten what neighborhood it was in, but he remembered how to get there by the feel of the air coming off of the river, and by the sense coming off of the street under his feet.

A couple of black men, teenagers really, sat on the stoop of a vacant building in the mid afternoon sun, taking turns playing a trumpet and clarinet. Alternating the instruments back and forth between the two of them.

Lo stopped and listened as the young men played. It was impressive, and he threw some money into the old instrument cases and continued walking.

The music sounded as if it were slowly falling behind him, unable to keep up with his footsteps.

When he got to where he thought he was going, it looked unrecognizable. He bent down and put his hands flat on the ground to concentrate.

A black girl rode past him slowly on a rusty bicycle, and looked down at him as he crouched on the street with a look of disdain in her eyes.

Lo forked his tongue at her for sport, and winked.

Her eyes bulged showing bright white on all sides. She stood up on the bikes plastic peddles and pushed down hard and fast, glancing over her shoulder a couple of times at Lo before cutting across a weedy patch of land and out of Lo's sight.

"Won't see her again." Said Lo out-loud and to himself, as he stood up and looked around at all of the boarded up buildings.

Architecture long past it's prime.

Some of it once fine and exquisitely done. Some of it just plain ram-shackle and complete and total shit, even in it's best day.

He walked down the crumbling sidewalk until he came to the end of the block.

A few people, mostly black, walked by him living their lives. Nonchalant. An elderly black woman pointed straight at Lo with a handkerchief in her hand, and told him to get-on and go fuck himself.

His phone rang as he was watching the woman's handkerchief wave around in the air and he flinched.

"What are you doing, boo? You busy?" Asked Tiny.

"No." Said Lo. The old woman held the handkerchief to her chest when he flinched from surprise, and laughed at him.

"You sound funny. How's your mystery business going?" She sounded playful and relaxed.

"It's fine. I'm okay."

The old woman started to cross the street and creep towards him, using a cane and sheer determination.

"Tiny, I have to call you back."

"Okay... But I'm hungry. let's meet somewhere and have steaks and good wine!"

"Whatever you want honey, anything-- I have to go."

He pressed the end button before she could say another word.

The old woman was almost to the sidewalk. Lo walked the ten steps and met her at the curb.

"You think you know me, madame?" He asked her, not sure of what else to say.

"Hell yes, I know you!" Said the old woman. One of her eyes was bright green, and the other was milky blue.

"Do you have something you want to say to me?" He helped the old woman up and over the curb.

She pulled her arm from his hand in a huff, once she was safely on the sidewalk, and swatted at it with her handkerchief.

"I done said it! And don't be feelin' on my arm like that, I know what you can do!" Said the old woman.

Lo looked at her. Deeply. He split his pupils so he could see the old woman as a young girl.

One bright green eye, and one milky blue.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know you." Said Lo. "But it's obvious that you know me, and have some sort of a personal issue."

"Personal issue. Ain't that a laugh!" The old woman rolled her eyes, and looked as if she'd smelled a skunk.

Lo glanced up and down the sidewalk, then across the street. Not another soul was in sight.

"Look, lady..." Lo said, leaning in to make his point. "Either you tell me what I've done to you and I apologize. Or I don't. Either way, I'm having a fine dinner and drinking expensive wine. Forever, and ever, and ever."

"That sounds about right!" Said the woman, leaning in even closer. "Because you killed my great granddaddy over something fine-- And it's fucked my family ever since... Forever, and ever, and ever."

One bright green eye, and one milky blue.

### 26

The master of the house was dealing the cards and drinking absinth, speaking in lengths about a new sort of harness he was interested in purchasing for his livery.

"My farrier disagrees." Said the man. "But he's of the dregs for gods sakes! What would he know of the new fangled finery?"

"I would guess more than anyone at this table." Lo said, irritated by the man. "Being that he's a farrier, and no one at this table has touched any part of a horse, aside from its leather saddle."

The men agreed out of politeness and fear.

Most were just glad for the change in subject.

The table consisted of four gentleman, all of good character and substantial wealth.

Their breeding was questionable, but it always was if you were to follow the lineage back far enough, and no one ever seemed to have enough energy for that sort of thing this far south, which Lo attributed to the heat.

In New York, women spent hours upon hours secretly researching and gossiping about the families in their own circles, and others- old and new.

If anything in the family history was askew, or secret, it was only a matter of time before someone in their insular world would inevitably stumble across the very truth, and spread it like a dreaded fever throughout the circles.

"I'm out." Said Lo, laying his cards down on the table.

A beautiful black servant girl offered Lo a whiskey, and he took it off the silver tray.

The girl was restricted from touching the guests' cut crystal low ball glasses by orders of the mistress of the house; an unattractive young woman Lo sensed as being of slight inbreeding and fully addicted to liquid opium.

The young mistress lay strewn across a chaise, relaxing with the other wives in a drawing room across from the game room. Another servant girl stood fanning the women with large round hand fans made from finely woven silk.

Lo was introduced to the women upon entering the home.

One of the women was charming and quite lovely, aside from the terrible pock scars that ravaged her skin.

She held a fan to her face for most of the evening.

When Lo was introduced, he kissed her hand twice. Once out of politeness, and the second time to show his preference among the three women present.

Her husband glanced around proudly at the other men, and the woman looked Lo straight in the eye, conveying that she understood and disapproved of the gesture, but was flattered none the less.

The second woman was altogether unmemorable.

The mistress of the house had a mannish horse face, and a gummy smile with crooked teeth that were stained yellow by the amount of opium she was consuming.

As the evening wore on, Lo opted out of the game altogether, sensing that a young bachelor by the name of William was cheating behind a pair of blue tinted spectacles.

That same man became uncouth from too much drink, and Lo watched out of boredom as he shouted obscenities at the other men, laughed the loudest at his own jokes, and sweated profusely.

When the servant girls came around delivering drinks and emptying the ashtrays or spittoons, he fondled them, wildly smacking their ass and calling them hot mules.

It was obvious the man of the house was too drunk to care, or too meek to intervene.

The heavy velvet curtains separating the two rooms were pulled aside, and Lo remembered the mistress, high on opium, watched from her chaise as the bachelor fondled the servant girls. She was less than twenty feet away, staring through the large doorway, and Lo sensed her enjoyment and smelled her arousal.

He'd almost vomited into a large ornate vase next to his chair.

Instead, he walked quickly out onto a balcony that was adjacent to the game room.

The night air smelled sickly sweet of jasmine.

Lo inhaled the breeze and tried not to think of old friends he missed terribly. People he'd truly connected with that were now dead and buried.

"May I join you?" The sweet, scarred woman asked, softly fanning her face.

"Of course, Madame. It would be my pleasure." Said Lo.

"Just smell that wild jasmine... Why, it's almost too much for my senses."

Lo agreed.

"Sometimes, I just feel so out of place at such occasions." Said the woman, motioning towards the inside rooms. She placed her hand on the ornate balcony rail, and leaned over slightly to look down at the busy street below.

"I do, too." Said Lo, standing next to her and looking down into the street.

"I wonder where everyone is going?" The woman asked, curiously. "Just what in the world are they all doing down there... With so much intention in their steps."

"Look there! That man has flowers... I bet he's off on a romantic gesture." Said Lo. The woman giggled and dropped the fan from her face, scanning the busy street three stories below their feet, as if she were looking for someone.

"Look at that woman! Over on the corner!" She said, proudly joining in on the game. "She's carrying two watermelons... I bet she's going to a social of some sort."

They both laughed, and her face looked positively radiant as her fan dropped to her decolletage.

Lo looked over his shoulder at the game room. No one was taking any interest in what the two of them were doing.

He acted as if he were pointing to something else in the street.

"Look there! Now what I wouldn't give to be alone with such a magnificent creature."

She shifted on her feet and leaned in closer to his shoulder to try and get a better look at whoever it was he found so magnificent.

He hooked his wrist and pointed up at her.

"I guess my dreams have been answered." Said Lo, glancing at her as she stood by his side.

She giggled, and closed her fan.

"I just love the nighttime in New Orleans." She said.

"If you were mine, I'd blot out the sun at your slightest whim, and rehang all of the stars personally, for your pleasure." Said Lo.

"Oh how divine! I do believe Mr. Lo, that you would do just that." She put one of her delicate white hands up to her neck.

They stared down into the street, smiling and watching and laughing. Making small quips and comments to one another about life's parade.

When the thick night air was cut sharply by the sounds of glass shattering in the room behind them, Lo turned and told the woman to stay on the balcony. She squeezed his hand quickly and smiled up at him radiantly, one last time, knowing the spell had been broken along with the crystal.

Lo was baffled by the scene when he stepped inside.

The table was overturned and broken glass covered the floor, but no one was in sight.

He moved ten steps towards the drawing room and saw the backs of the guests, standing in a row and staring down at the floor in silence.

The beautiful black servant girl lay sprawled out on her stomach, while the young inebriated bachelor sat on top of the girls back, acting as if he were spanking a mule.

Her beautiful face looked horrified.

Lo walked calmly into the drawing room, pushing aside one of the men and the mistress of the house. She fell to her knees, high on opium and unstable.

Lo grabbed the young bachelor by the back of his neck and pulled him off of the girls back. The servant girl didn't move. Lo nudged her gently but firmly with the toe of his boot, and told her to stand up.

The girl stood up. Her beauty was untarnished.

"Get going now, girl." Lo said, to the servant. "Go and try to right the game room."

Lo noticed a young black man, another servant, had been standing off to the side. A sad witness to the entire incident. They walked quickly to the game room together, and Lo sensed they were related in some way.

The drunken bachelor was still firmly in Lo's hand.

Lo released his grasp on the bachelor's neck, and the man turned and spit into Lo's face.

The entire party froze.

Except for the mistress of the house, who sat up perfectly on the floor where she fell and began to sing a love song, completely unaware of reality. She smoothed her heavy satin crinoline dress out and around her, as if she were at a garden party.

Everyone stared down at the mistress, except for Lo. He wiped the spit from his face with his silk cuff, and grabbed the bachelor by the front of his neck in one unnaturally fast movement.

"Don't touch me you abomination!" Said William.

Lo laughed, and stood holding the bachelor by his neck with one hand. The bachelor's feet kicked around in the air like a puppet.

"Let go of me, you freak! Don't you know who I am?" The bachelors face started turning the color of a ripe fall apple, partly from being held by the neck, but mostly from complete and utter fury.

"Who, prey tell my boy, are you?" Lo asked, sarcastically.

The bachelors teeth were clenched from anger as he spoke.

"I'm William Ja-- Wil-- Jam--"

The bachelors angry expression dropped from his face, and his left leg kicked twice, in rapid succession.

Lo felt the man's life force wilting down like a lily in the midday sun.

He released his grasp on the bachelor's neck, and the man stood weaving back and forth like a punch drunk boxer.

"Pull yourself together William." Laughed Lo. "Remember who you are, my boy."

A couple of the men laughed along with Lo.

The mistress of the house sat happily singing like a song bird.

The bachelors face flashed a grin, then dropped all expression as he went down on his knees. He threw his tinted blue spectacles to the floor, and began pulling at his vest coat like it was too tight on his chest.

The entire party, including Lo, stood watching the man.

"He's dying." Lo said, bluntly.

"What? Of course he's not! He's three sheets." Said the man of the house.

"He is-- He's dying." Said the sweet, scarred woman. She'd come in quietly from the balcony and stood watching the human tragedy unfold from behind the others.

The bachelor was on the floor in the last throes of his life.

After he drew his last breath, his body stretched and relaxed completely. The odd color of death crept quickly across his young face, and his eyes, one bright green and one milky blue, stared off into some other kind of distance.

The mistress stopped singing.

"My god man, you've killed him!" Said the master of the house.

"Maybe." Lo said, honestly. "It doesn't matter now, does it?"

The man with the unmemorable wife left the house immediately.

The proud husband of the sweet, scarred woman apologized to Lo for the ugly turn in the hours pleasures, and wished him well in his travels around the south. His wife curtseyed to Lo, and smiled sweetly from behind her fan. The two walked away from the home through a back entrance and towards a waiting carriage.

Lo thanked the mistress and the master of the house for a truly interesting evening, and warned them against any mistreatment of their servants.

"I'll know, you see... It's one of my tricks. Then you'll be the dead rabbit in my hat."

The master, obviously believing the bluff, looked pale and insulted.

Lo stepped casually over the bachelor's dead body and bent down to hold the man's limp wrist, deciding whether or not to eat his soul. Sensing large amounts of belligerence marbled with weakness, he placed the limp wrist back on the floor, like a menu that held no interest to his pallet.

He held his palm to the man's forehead briefly, and when he pulled it away, a small but significant sign was burned perfectly into the skin.

"To help you with your explanation, I suppose." Lo said, to the master of the house. The man's face looked dismayed, but grateful.

The young black servant man opened the front door while holding a silver tray with Lo's gloves and his black silk top hat, as Lo walked down the staircase.

He took the gloves and hat from the tray, then bowed deeply from the waist and winked.

The corner of the man's mouth edged up and he bowed to Lo stiffly, as he'd been taught, and Lo stepped down onto the sidewalk, and into the bustling, sickly sweet-hot night of New Orleans.

### 27

By the time Lo reached the hotel, he was soaked through with sweat.

A man on the elevator smiled politely at Lo, then closed his eyes, like he were wishing Lo would disappear. When the elevator dinged, signaling the man's floor, the doors slid open and the man practically jumped off into the hallway, not once looking back at Lo.

When Lo slid the key-card into the door's electronic reader, it clicked and the lock released.

The air inside felt arctic and frigid.

"Oh my god!" Said Tiny, as she walked out of the bathroom wearing a lime green silk camisole and holding a fake-eyelash on the tip of her finger. "What in hell happened to you baby? You look... Here-- Sit down on this chair right here. I'm getting you a nice, cold bottle of water."

She walked behind the bar and pulled a fancy bottle of water from the glass front, blue lit mini fridge. Lo grabbed at the bottle in the air, and she handed it off to him and stood watching as he chugged it down, like a ridiculous teenager drinking beer at a fraternity party.

"Oh my god!" Said Tiny, shaking her head and looking him up and down.

He waved his hand like she shouldn't be concerned, then ran his fingers through his sweat soaked hair in an attempt to look normal.

Tiny had one hand on her hip, and one still holding the fake-eyelash. It looked like a small black caterpillar.

"Is there anyone in your family with mixed up eyes?" Lo asked, taking a deep breath.

"What? Why are you so sweaty, Lo? What's happening?"

He sat her down on the end of a the chaise she was standing in front of.

"Tiny, just think about it for a second... For me-- Is there anyone in your family that has one green eye and one blue? Or anyone with light eyes for that matter!"

Tiny put her finger up to her lip and the hairs from the fake-eyelash brushed against her skin, making her eyes widen with surprise. Lo could tell that she was flustered, but thinking about his question just the same.

"I'm going to have to say no-- I don't think so, Lo. If I had to choose yes or no, then no, baby... No. I can't think of anyone."

Lo sat down next to her on the chaise, rubbing the nubs on his head.

"Will you tell me what's going on?" Asked Tiny, rubbing his thigh.

"I need to take a shower first-- Then let's eat somewhere fabulous, and get you drunk... Proper drunk." Said Lo, staring at his shoes.

"Okay-- Sounds. Good." Said Tiny, watching him with suspicion.

Lo felt her studying his every nuance and movement, as he walked to the shower in a daze, leaving a trail of sweat soaked cotton in his wake.

Tiny walked behind him, picking up each damp piece and looking at it closely, like it held some sort of a clue. When the trail turned cold at the showers door, she gave up, throwing the suspicious pile she'd collected into the basket for housekeeping.

They picked a restaurant in the Quarter that was small, but very upscale.

The maitre' d recognized Lo immediately and sat them at a private table in the corner, next to a huge glass window that looked out onto a lush courtyard with an old stone fountain.

"Why don't we get this kind of treatment in New York?" Asked Tiny, as they moved through the restaurant.

"We will honey, believe me. The hounds have been released." Said Lo.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I've never encouraged it before-- I've barely gone out in the past ten years... But now that I have you and yours... Things are going to change."

"You mean like you got a cab light above your head that says on." She was starting to giggle.

"Yes. My light is definitely on!" Lo tried to sound merry, but it came out sounding manic.

A pleasant looking waiter introduced himself and handed Lo the wine list.

Lo handed it back without a glance, and told the man to bring them something white and obscenely expensive.

"Right away, sir."

Tiny looked up at the waiter with a polite, but plastered smile, before he walked away.

"What in the hell? Seriously, boo! You need to tell me now- right now, what's going on, or I'm walking back to Harlem."

"Could you bring us some oysters on the half." Lo shouted across the room to the waiter. The other patrons tried their best to look as if it wasn't out of the ordinary.

Tiny put her hands up to her lips like she was praying, then dropped them to her hips, like she'd had it.

"Okay, okay." Said Lo, giving in. "I'm going to tell you something that you're not going to like."

"I knew it! You fucked that high yellow girl." She mouthed the words across the table, pointing at him with a long purple fingernail.

Her eyes flashed over Lo's shoulder, as the waiter breezed up from behind balancing a large iced tray of oysters on one hand, and a perfectly chilled bottle of Montrachet in the other.

Tiny smoothed the front tips of her jet black weave with her fingertips, then crossed her arms in front of her cleavage and smiled politely up at the waiter, as he uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount of the expensive golden liquid into a stemmed glass for Lo to consider.

Her eyes were smoldering, and she looked like she was counting back from ten.

Lo reached up and took the bottle from the waiters hand.

"Everything's just perfect." Said Lo, staring at Tiny.

The waiter caught Tiny's expression and quickly retreated.

"I'll give you a while to enjoy your wine and oysters and look over the menu."

"That's a good idea." Said Lo, still locked in Tiny's stare.

The waiter, who was walking quickly away from the table, stopped a young Hispanic water boy from making the same mistake he'd just made.

"Tiny! For the love of god! I did not fuck that woman." Lo whispered, across the table. "I would tell you if I did. I love and respect you too much to lie to you."

She pointed at a glass and motioned for him to pour the wine.

"That's the red wine glass." Said Lo.

"Pour the damn wine Lo!"

Lo watched as she sipped the wine and adjusted her cleavage to sublime excellence just by shifting her shoulder and biceps.

Her hell-fire smoldered out just enough for Lo to speak.

"Can I talk now?" Lo asked, trying not to smile.

"Don't push it, Lo."

"I'm not!"

"Then wipe the smirk off your face."

"I'm not smirking! But-- I am flattered."

"Cause I'm jealous?"

"Because your jealous of a dead woman."

She reached across the table and picked up one of the oysters waiting patiently atop a mother-of- pearl shell.

Three small cups made from molded ice held three different types of condiments, and after carefully scrutinizing each, she picked one, and dabbed a little blob on top of the oyster, then handed it over to Lo.

Lo took it from her fingertips, still completely surprised and impressed by her ways as a woman.

"I'm jealous of any woman that's fucked my husband, regardless of which side of the grass she's on." Said Tiny, smiling and fixing herself an oyster. "Now why don't we start over, and you tell me what it is I'm not going to like."

They were the last to leave the restaurant, so Lo left the waiter a huge tip.

"Thank you, sir. It's been a pleasure to see you up close."

Tiny laughed and the waiter grinned, slightly embarrassed, but walking away a thousand dollars richer.

A horse carriage sat idle under a gas lamp, while the driver stretched out across the leather bench in the back, reading a book by the dappled light.

"I wanna take a carriage ride!" Said Tiny.

"Sure." Said Lo.

The driver of the carriage was an older man with long gray hair and a reddish beard. His arms and neck were covered in tattoos.

"Have a seat, my dear lovely." Said the man, as he helped Tiny up into the carriage.

The man clucked at the horse and the carriage started to roll.

"When was the last time you were in a carriage for real?" Asked Tiny.

"For real?"

"For real, real."

"That's a good question-- I'd guess about a hundred years ago."

The driver coughed.

"Do you miss it?" Asked Tiny.

"I do."

"Maybe we should buy one!"

"Can you imagine Antoine's face? He'd die from embarrassment." Lo laughed.

The quarter moved by slow and steady, like it was being pulled along by a rope.

"I wish I could find out where they lived." Said Lo.

"What if I came with you tomorrow, and we knocked on doors?" Asked Tiny.

"That's a lot of doors." Said Lo. "And if they're as eccentric as she said they were... Who knows?"

"Let's walk around and you can put your hands on stuff."

"I tried that today, and look where it got me."

"I bet it wasn't your fault he died." Said Tiny, under her breath. "That guy sounded like a real asshole anyway."

Lo thought back to the infinite amounts of assholes he'd known. Some he killed, and some he wished he'd killed. He wondered how many he'd remember by name or face. A couple hundred, tops. But there had to have been more.

"None of this seems odd to you? Like way too coincidental?" Lo asked her.

"Remember that first time when we were, you know-- And you said that you knew who you were?" She pointed down at Lo's crotch, then made a shush gesture by putting one of her fingers to her lips.

"Of course I remember. That was awful."

"Well, I know who I am, and who I committed to. I fucked the devil and liked it, so you married me- thank god! But to think that a bunch of crazy shit won't come up along the way, that you might or might not remember- would make me kinda dumb-- I mean, you've done a lot of livin' Lo!"

Lo heard the driver snicker, then cough.

He smiled over at his queen. She was babbling. Flying high on expensive wine and brandy, and thoroughly enjoying the new found freedom from the life she knew too well back in Harlem.

"Can you take us through the garden district?" Lo asked the driver.

"Usually they wouldn't let me... But it sure sounds like they'll let you."

Lo stuck some cash in the man's hand, and said that he'd handle any sot of problems that might arise from the folly. The man clucked the horse to a trot, and the sound of hooves echoed down the alleyways, turning the clocks back a hundred years.

"Ooh! Where are we going now?" Asked Tiny, snuggling up beside him.

"Someplace right up your alley." Said Lo. "Someplace magical."

The next morning, Tiny was in bed with a hangover.

Lo instructed the concierge to have room service delivered at noon.

Eggs, bacon, and toast along with tomato juice and coffee. He based the entire menu on the things he'd seen Jack eat a hundred times before, when Jack inevitability found himself in the same situation.

"Should we throw a Belgium waffle in, just to be on the safe side?" Asked the concierge.

"Let's!"

He left a note on the nightstand and picked up his satchel, closing the door gently and placing the do-not-disturb sign on the knob behind him.

When he reached the lobby, the bellboy told him his car was waiting. The doorman handed Lo one of the hotel's loner umbrellas and told him to prepare himself for rain.

When he stepped out of the hotel, the humidity hit him like a ton of bricks.

The driver of the town car nodded at him professionally and opened the door.

Jack was definitely going above and beyond in the way of the "little-extras" as Jack called them. "What's wrong with a little extra in the way of compensation? You're going to experience some real gnarly stuff, a color wheel of emotions, am I right?" Asked Jack, as he explained all of the new clauses and perks in the contracts.

Now Lo was again on his way to do exactly that. Experience a spectrum of emotions, but get paid for it big-time.

### 28

The so called auction house was really no more than a high end stop over for pieces that went straight to purchase, once they could be authenticated.

The better the lineage, the bigger the price. The better the story-- Now that was something altogether different.

"Welcome, Mr. Lo. I'm Yuki Whittier." Said a pretty, petite Japanese woman. "I'll be at your assistance today if you should need anything at all. I'll also be taking notes and photographs."

"I don't do photographs." Said Lo.

"I'm so sorry, I meant photographs of the piece. We're well aware and very up to speed on the contract, I can assure you, sir." The woman stood smiling, hoping to pick up what she'd just managed to drop single-handedly.

Lo smiled back at her. No harm, no foul.

The place looked like a high end antique store that specialized in jewelry and fine china.

"Where do we go?" Asked Lo.

The woman motioned towards a settee near the back of the shop.

"You mean we're doing it right here? Just you and me?" Lo looked around the store for the rest of her team.

"If that's okay with you, sir. We're closed to business of course, and my husband regrettably had another obligation-- Would you like a separate chair? I thought we'd sit together on the settee, but I will gladly get you a separate chair... I honestly never expected to get you down here to New Orleans, so we're terribly unprepared." The woman began to look around nervously for an appropriate chair.

"No, no, no. The settee is fine. Perfect, actually-- I've just never seen it done like this before. It's so relaxed."

"This _is_ the Big Easy. We prefer things relaxed. I hope you're not disappointed, sir."

"God no! I'm thrilled."

The woman looked relieved, and offered him a sherry.

"Please. let's!" Said Lo.

The woman laughed, and said that she'd worked the scene in New York for a couple of years, and she knew very well what he was up against.

"It was so exhausting!" Said Yuki. "So formal and pretentious... I've never understood that. A Matisse is a Matisse, and people will buy it, whether it's hanging in a palace or a pizza parlor."

Lo agreed and took off his jacket.

"Shall we?" Yuki motioned towards the back of the room.

He sat down on the velvet settee as she poured the sherry, handing one to Lo and setting one down on a small box table in front of the settee.

Yuki opened a false door on the bottom of the table, and Lo noticed a elaborate safe built into the floor. She tapped a series of at least ten numbers onto a small keypad that resembled a cell phone with a small keypad and LCD screen. A smiley face appeared on the screen, and Lo heard a faint but solid mechanical click as the safe's door opened, sliding back into itself.

She pulled a case the size of a cereal box from the safe.

"Would you like to do the honor?" Asked Yuki, and she handed the case to Lo.

He placed the case on his lap and opened it.

Inside was an elaborate gold necklace Lo recognized as early Egyptian. Very early Egyptian.

"Jesus." Said Lo.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Said Yuki.

Lo lifted the necklace carefully from the case, and held it up for better viewing. Spreading it out slightly, as if it were on a woman's neck. Yuki watched in a total respectful disbelief of such an amazing artifact.

"We have reason to believe it belonged to the daughter of a royal wife."

"How so?"

"It was found in an unknown tomb over a hundred and fifty years ago. The tomb had been looted years before. Pillaging was a common source of income for the very poor. Isn't it funny how hunger always wins out over fear of godly retribution?"

"Hunger wins out over a lot of things." Said Lo.

Yuki looked perfectly at ease with the familiarity in their conversation.

"Why wasn't this necklace taken?" Lo Asked.

"The records from the excavation indicated that ten female slave mummies were found intact in this particular unknown tomb. After unwrapping, one of the mummies was found wearing this necklace. A slave girl would never have been buried wearing such a piece, and the looters of the time knew this. I'm guessing that's why so many unimportant mummies are fantastically intact, and how this piece slipped by the hands of thieves. The excavation produced nothing but pottery, a few common necessities of the time, and this necklace."

Lo was fascinated.

"The necklace itself surfaced for sale in England around the turn of the this century. It was owned by a man notorious for excavation and financing digs in and around the Valley of the Kings. Through the years, this piece found it's way into the United States and into the hands of my client who is now selling. Can you believe I already have three interested parties? All male, all Chinese."

"So a China-men will own a piece of Egyptian royalty." Said Lo.

"Wealthy men always want pieces of other wealthy men, and most are things completely foreign to their culture. I've never quite understood that."

"I think it's a sense of immortality." Said Lo. "Like if you acquire another person's objects, you somehow acquire the experiences the person had with those objects, and it adds to your own."

Yuki looked at Lo, like she was out gunned philosophically.

"I'm sorry for sharing my two cents about life." Said Yuki. "You've witnessed it with your own eyes a thousand times. I always get so carried away!"

"I understand." Said Lo.

They sat staring at the golden piece of history. The real secrets of the necklace lost long ago, with voices now dead and time long past.

"Are you ready to watch me do my thing?"

"Yes!" Said Yuki. "I've been waiting for this moment ever since I started in the business."

He piled the necklace into his palm and held it tightly.

Lo noticed the air in the room starting to feel warm and dry, as a familiar sense of power and dominance rose from his lower back, continued through his spine, and filled his head like a balloon.

A crazy amount of energy surged through his body, reminding him of one of those little dogs in the park that catches a Frisbee, toss after toss, and never seems to tire.

He tasted anise seed and black licorice, as a female essence, round and dark skinned, flashed through his mind.

The taste of licorice soon faded into the taste of clay.

An earthy, liquid type flavor filled his throat, and he started to choke.

Lo's vision clouded, as if he'd opened his eyes in muddy water, and his breath became shallow and labored.

The sense of power left his head suddenly; draining through his neck, then his torso, and down past his legs, until it poured out onto the floor like fine sand though an egg timer.

Feelings of betrayal and hatred knocked around in his ribcage three or four times, then vanished.

The last thing Lo felt before he dropped the necklace onto the settee was a certain type of fear he'd felt many times before when touching certain people or their intimate possessions.

It was the fear of death, pure and simple.

"She was young-- Fourteen to sixteen I'd say. She held great power, and was very happy and full of life... She drowned in a river. Murdered or unwillingly sacrificed, I'm sure of it."

Lo loosened his tie, then pulled it off all together and stuck it in his satchel.

Yuki pushed pause on her hand held recorder.

"That was amazing, sir. Do you need some water? Here, drink some of this sherry." Yuki handed him his glass.

Lo drank it down like a shot of whiskey. The warmth felt good going down his throat. She filled his glass with more of the sweet, amber colored liquor, and motioned for him to drink it. He took a couple of small, polite sips, then set the glass down on the box table.

"Thank you for that, I'm fine now." Said Lo.

"That was really something to experience, sir."

"Please call me Lo."

"Everything you said, Lo, just the way you looked... I believe we have something incredibly special here." She picked the necklace up off the settee and spread it across her lap.

"Who was the girl?"

"The girl was Nefari-- A bastard daughter of Nefertiti. Murdered by the pharaoh because she wasn't his true child. She was born from a torrid affair of her mother, but remember, I'm speculating based on years of information gathered by many. And now, with your help, the certain aspects that remained in question. Well... Now everything comes into light."

"A brighter light, I suppose, but not everything." Said Lo.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course."

"Do you remember the time period?" Asked Yuki.

"I don't, unfortunately. I sometimes have vague memories or flashes similar to deja vu, but three thousand years is a long time by anyone's watch, even mine, and the region was so vast."

"Some historians say you were around the area."

"Historians can say whatever they want about things I can't remember."

"Do you remember the birth of Christ."

Not too many people had the guts to bring up something of that sort to Lo.

"I never met the man." Said Lo, putting on his jacket. "But his story sure caught on and spread like wildfire, causing a whole hell of a lot of hype, if you ask me-- It still does... I have to hand it to whoever spun the tale, that's some brilliant P.R."

"I couldn't have said it better myself." Said Yuki, standing up and picking a piece of lint from his lapel.

"Thank you so much for today, Lo. It was everything I'd ever imagined."

Lo tipped an imaginary hat to the woman.

"I have a couple documents for you to sign, and then your authentication payment. The sale percentage, which I imagine will be of substance, will be direct deposited into the account, as stated on the contract."

"Wonderful." Said Lo, and he realized looking down into a carefully lit glass case of fine estate wedding rings, that Tiny hadn't asked for one. Not even a simple, shitty band.

She'd never asked him for anything, except a new hand for Antoine, and the truth about fucking or not fucking one dead woman.

"I'm interested in a ring." Said Lo. "I got married recently."

"I heard." Said Yuki. "Congratulations."

She walked from behind the counter where she'd been arranging the paperwork, and towards a staircase near the back of the shop.

Lo stood watching her.

"Up we go." Said Yuki, motioning towards the stairway. "Those in the case are all exceptional pieces... But upstairs. Well-- They're truly worthy of such an occasion."

### 29

Tiny was still in the bedroom when he walked into the suite. The room service cart was pushed to the side of the room, and little of the breakfast remained, except for a couple small corner pieces of toast, and a strip of bacon resembling a dogs tongue.

"Hi, boo." Said Tiny, from the bed, as she turned over on her side, peeking out from under the white down comforter, surrounded by pillows.

"Are you feeling better?" Lo asked, laying his jacket across a chair.

"Yeah-- I'm cool." Said Tiny, giggling but embarrassed. "I sicked up in the fancy toilet, then ate everything on the breakfast cart."

"Oh, no--" Laughed Lo, gritting his teeth. "It's my fault. I acted so crazy yesterday, and then I told you that horrible story at dinner... What choice did you have but to get totally hammered. Jack would be so proud."

Tiny pulled him towards her pillow, and gave him a little kiss.

"How's your day been? You look kinda handsome in that suit." She pulled a pillow to her naked chest.

"Do I?" Said Lo, looking down at himself. "It went fine. It was not as bad as I remembered."

"What did the jewelry look like?"

"Like something from an Egyptian tomb."

"Really! That's so crazy... Where was it from?"

"An Egyptian tomb."

Her eyebrows arched and she gave him a you-so-silly look. He kissed her again, and she called him her big brave boo.

"You know _why_ it's not as bad?" Said Lo, taking off his shirt and undershirt, then his trousers.

"Cause you have me to come home to."

"How did you know I was going to say that?" Lo asked, sliding off his boxers and getting into bed next to her.

"Cause I feel the exact same way. Like I'm safe from all the shit."

"You _are_ safe from all the shit."

He rubbed his stiff cock on her thigh, and asked her if she was up for it.

"Okay. But not like yesterday on the counter top-- Just thinking about all that bouncin' around makes me queasy."

Lo laughed and called her a light weight.

He fucked her gently for a minute or two, him on top and her on the bottom.

"I'm gonna cum." Said Lo softly, into her ear.

"Wait!" Said Tiny, stopping all movement in her hips. "What about me?"

"I thought I'd wrap it up quick." Said Lo, his hand stopped mid squeeze on her breast. "Kind of do you a favor."

"You can do me a favor by making me cum." Smiled Tiny, from underneath him. "Twice."

They napped until 10:45 that night. When Lo opened his eyes, Tiny was dressed in a pair of tight blue jeans, a bright orange tank top, and a pair of flip flops.

"Take me for a walk... Let's go and get something fried, somewhere cheap!"

"Sure. Sounds good." Lo said, rubbing his eyes.

Tiny threw a pair of his chinos on the bed, along with a tee shirt.

When they walked through the lobby, the place was bustling with just as much activity as at noon.

"Oh look! It's starting to drizzle." Said Tiny, and she took one of the loner umbrellas from the hotel's ornate brass stand. She handed it to Lo, and once the doorman ushered them onto the sidewalk, Lo opened the umbrella and it spread out like the wings of a raven.

"Ooh, it's a big one!" Said Tiny. Lo winked at her and she rolled her eyes.

"Which way honey, you choose."

Tiny looked to her right and then to her left, carefully scrutinizing each option.

"Let's go left." She said, pointing gracefully.

"Let's go left."

The sidewalk was just starting to glaze over with fresh rainwater, and the streets were beginning to steam.

"Isn't this beautiful! It's really romantic." Said Tiny.

Lo squeezed her hand and they walked together closely, her flips flops squishing on the cobblestone.

The quarter felt alive with history.

It wouldn't have surprised Lo in the least if they'd turned a corner and bumped head on into gentlemen wearing top hats and waistcoats, and women tightly corseted in their latest evening gowns from Paris, gracefully enjoying the pleasantries of a warm wet New Orleans night.

"Look! It's a hole in the wall seafood place. let's get some!" Said Tiny.

"Yes-- That sounds so good right now, doesn't it?"

They ordered at the walk up window; fried halibut, clams, shrimp, and two orders of spicy hush puppies with a large coleslaw.

"Do you want a beer?" Lo asked, over his shoulder. Tiny was busy drying off a picnic bench with a couple of napkin.

"Hell no! Are you crazy, baby?" She shot him a look that reminded him of her bad-time spent over the fancy toilet.

"What else have you got in there Mr.?" Tiny asked.

The man in the window looked her up and down, then told Lo that he, too, liked them sassy.

"How about a lemon shakeup, sweetheart?" Asked the man.

"Ooh yeah! Now that sounds yummy..."

The man smiled at Tiny, and told Lo he was a real lucky bastard.

When the food arrived, Tiny spread the plastic baskets and paper boats out in between the two of them on the bench. She called it a midnight picnic.

It tasted fantastic.

She pulled a few packets of hot sauce from her purse, tore one open with her teeth, squirted some of the red liquid on a clam, and handed it to Lo.

He looked at her in awe.

"I'm completely and totally in love with you, Tiny."

"I love you too, baby. You're my man for real."

"I want to give you everything you want-- Anything... What do want? Tell me! It can be anything."

She bit a hush puppy in half, then blew on the inside of the breading until it stopped steaming. Lo felt his cock move just watching her thick, greasy lips blow on the cornmeal.

"I want us to all be healthy, and happy, and safe-- With a roof over our heads and nice food on the table... And maybe a vacation, like this, every now and then."

For the very first time, he heard her completely. He got it. She was in this for the real stuff. No bullshit pretense or hidden agendas.

"I want you to think a little bigger for me, honey... Like try to imagine what you would do if you won the lottery."

She was digging in the shrimp basket, looking for the perfect piece.

"Okay-- Well then... I guess I'd buy a nice house, with a yard for Antoine."

Check.

"And professional trumpet lessons...."

Check.

"And a dog, because I've never had one, and I think they're cute and funny."

Check.

She pulled the clams from Lo's lap.

"That's it?" Asked Lo.

"All that sounds like heaven, when your checkbook's just breaking even."

"Tiny, I don't think you understand. Your checkbooks not an issue anymore. You don't have to work. You don't have to do shit if you don't want to, but be a good mom, a good daughter, and nice to me, and you're already doing that."

"I know, but what happens when I get old, and I'm not as sexy anymore?"

"I've been here forever. Literally! And I've carried plenty of people I cared about to the grave, believe me. You're just the first one I married... But don't think that the others didn't try."

Tiny giggled, then tried to hide it by wiping her lips with a balled up napkin.

"Look, I admit it! She was a pretty strange lady now that I think back about it-- I remember the ceremony was in the water, with pieces of sage and ribbons and odd stuff floating around... We were the only two people there, but she was super nice, and she sewed me a beautiful muslin shirt especially for the occasion. She baked really well too, in a clay oven... That wasn't an easy feat-- You're mom would be impressed."

Tiny was giggling again.

"My point is--" Said Lo, rolling his eyes. "I stayed with her until she died, which was eighty-eight. I remember because I'd say 'eighty-eighty' and she'd say 'now say it backwards', and then we'd both crack up! Isn't that funny? I guess she was sort of weird like that."

Tiny had stopped giggling and her eyes were starting to well. She fanned her face with her hand and told him she was fine. Three times.

"I didn't tell you that to upset you, honey. I told you that to assure you-- Sexy or not, I'll take care of you and Elly and Antoine, even cousin Tee Tee... I'll see everybody through to the end. That's why I want to make sure that it's as grandiose as it can be."

"Enjoy it while we can." Said Tiny.

"Enjoy it while we can."

Lo reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny cloisonne box decorated with two water cranes, neck in neck. He reached over and sat it on her knee.

"Oh! Boo... I love it. It's beautiful." She leaned over and kissed him, then went back to studying the depiction of the two cranes on the box.

His amazing queen.

"No honey, you have to open it. There's more."

"There's more?"

Tiny turned the little box over a couple of times in her hand, then looked at it closely until she found the separation in the metal, and gently pulled off the lid.

Inside of the box, surrounded by century's old silk, was a large, perfectly cut square ruby, set in a simple gold filigree.

Tiny gasped.

She pulled the ring gently from the silk, and slid it onto her ring finger.

"We'll get it sized when we get back home." Said Lo, popping another clam into his mouth.

She held it up to the soft light coming from one of the gas lamps next to the bench, and glints of red landed delicately on her hand like blood drops.

She started to sniffle.

"I'm guessing you don't want to return it."

"I've never seen anything like it-- I love it, Lo."

He felt like a king.

She pulled the napkin from his lap and wiped her eyes.

"You're so nice to me."

"You're pretty easy to be nice to." Said Lo.

Tiny gathered up the trash from their midnight picnic and pushed it down into a trash receptacle. She took the plastic baskets back up to the window and said something to the man that made him laugh. He watched her walk away and gave Lo a thumbs up sign behind her back.

"What do you want to do now? Are you in the mood for music?" Asked Lo.

"Okay."

They didn't have to walk too far until they heard a piano playing alongside a clarinet and the occasional muted trumpet. Lo closed the umbrella, giving it a little shake, and they stepped inside. Tiny moved through the crowd like she was right at home and found a spot at the bar with one empty stool.

Lo glanced at his watch, it was past one and the place was still hopping.

The bartender asked what they were drinking.

"I'll take a beer. Something from the tap-- Surprise me!" Said Tiny.

Lo grinned, and smirked.

"What? I've recovered... And I'm on vacation, and wearing this!"

She held her ring up to admire it.

Lo shook his head, like he couldn't keep up with her.

"I'll have a scotch on the rocks."

"One scotch on the rocks and one beer surprise, coming right up." Said the bartender.

The band started to play- Summertime, and a thin white woman stood in front of the microphone, belting out the vocals like a heavy black woman was trapped deep down inside of her.

"I'm having fun!" Said Tiny.

"I'm glad." Lo stood beside her, watching and listening as people came and went.

All of them talking, or laughing, or dancing. Some drunk, some on their way to getting drunk, and some just pretending.

A man at a table whispered to the rest of his party, and they all glanced over in Lo's direction. One of the women winked.

Lo looked away casually.

"I saw that." Said Tiny, moving back and forth on the stool to the music. "Don't think I didn't."

Lo pinched her on the hip.

"The man down at the end bought this for your lady friend." Said the bartender bluntly, and he motioned to his left like he was just doing his job, and please-don't-shoot-the-messenger-thank-you-very-much.

"Ooh, it's a pretty purple!" Said Tiny, admiring the over-the-top fruity drink complete with a paper umbrella and two inch pink plastic monkey that hung from the side of the glass by one arm.

Lo stepped out from alongside her stool and looked blatantly at the end of the bar.

A man held up one of his beefy tattooed arms to Lo in salutations. His gray pony tail was neatly braided and hanging down his back.

Lo nodded at the carriage driver in recognition, and motioned for him to join them.

"Where's your horse?" Asked Lo.

"Parking the car." Said the man, grinning as he reached out to shake Lo's hand.

Tiny thanked him for the fancy drink, and the three of them made small talk about the scene in the bar and New Orleans in general.

When she excused herself to use the ladies room, the man stuck a tightly folded piece of paper into Lo's hand and told him to put it away.

"It's the address you were interested in last night... But I don't think she should know about it."

The man gestured toward the ladies room, to show he was talking about Tiny.

"Two old sisters are the only ones left now." Said the man. "They go by Nelson-- They're rich as sin, and racist as shit. I told myself if I saw you again, I'd give it to you, that I'd leave it to chance." The man's expression looked as if he were playing with matches in a warehouse full of gunpowder.

"Are you sure it's the same family?" Asked Lo.

"Hell yes it's the same family! Now ask me how I know."

"How?"

"Because I'm Ace, the amazing tattooed fire eating man! And I worked for 'em for twenty fucking years."

### 30

"Why can't I come?" Asked Tiny.

The sunlight was filtering through the canopy of the suites balcony and shining down onto a plate of cantaloupe, cut into intricate designs and splayed out like a fan.

"Because I have a feeling they're not very pleasant people."

"I won't say anything, I promise-- You can say I'm your assistant!"

"No way." Said Lo, forking a slice of cantaloupe. "I've known you just long enough to know you can't stay quiet very long."

"It's two sisters? How old are they?" Asked Tiny, not giving it up.

"Old as dirt."

"Did you know them or something? Are you three gonna sit around and talk about something freaky from the old days?"

"God. No. Tiny!"

"Then why? I'm a nice person, and older people like me."

She sat looking across the table at him, wearing one of his white cotton undershirts with her head tilted to the side and her mouth slightly open. She clearly couldn't understand why two old sisters wouldn't want her around.

"You know what?" Said Lo. "You are a nice person. Very nice. And you're with me... And I don't play that prejudice shit."

"Oh, no. They don't like you?"

"Me? No! Honey, I mean, probably. Most people don't like the devil showing up at their door asking questions... But they're prejudice against blacks. They don't like black people."

"Really? And they live in New Orleans? Good luck with that." Tiny spread some orange marmalade on her scone.

Lo spooned some of the scrambled eggs from the heaping platter onto his plate, while trying to imagine anyone in their right mind not liking her.

She picked a blueberry muffin from the bread basket, tore it in half and buttered both sides. Then pressed it gently back together and sat it on his plate.

"You take such good care of me in the muffin department."

She ignored him and his innuendo, completely consumed by the idea of going with him on some kind of business. His kind of business.

"I'll wear my reading glasses and bring a notepad... Wait! I'll carry your laptop and wear a head band."

"Tiny, you don't have to pretend to be my assistant, for Christ sake."

"I want too! It'll be fun... Like we're in a Scooby Doo mystery."

"We're short a mystery machine." Said Lo.

"Oh my god! You watched it too!"

"Sure. I still watch it occasionally on the Cartoon network. The original ones are the best."

"My boo likes Scooby Doo!" Said Tiny, smiling and rubbing her foot on his thigh. "Antoine will love that!"

"Antoine likes Scooby Doo?"

"He thinks Thelma is pretty cool."

Lo smiled thinking about Thelma's glasses, and her thick orange turtle neck.

"She's got some moves-- I'd take her to bed."

They both laughed, and he leaned back into the striped cushion on the iron patio chair and tried to imagine how this thing with the two sisters would play out.

"Maybe I'll tell the cops before hand, so they won't even bother if the phone rings." Said Lo.

Tiny looked up from her tourist brochures.

"Are you fucking kidding me, baby? You can do that?"

"I could... It'd save everybody a lot of hassle, am I right?"

"Why would they call the police to start with? What are we gonna be doing over there? They're two little old ladies, Lo!"

Tiny was fanning herself with one of the colorful brochures from a pile on the table she'd collected at the concierge; it read- Experience the glory of the old south on a tranquil southern cotton plantation.

Tranquil my ass, thought Lo, as an image of the drunken bachelor spanking the young black servant girl moved across his mind.

"Are you trying to freak me out?" Tiny's brow looked furrowed. "Cause I'm going for real now! If not for any reason but to make sure you don't act crazy in front of two little old ladies."

The man at the clam shack was dead on the money when he'd called her sassy.

Lo felt his cock start to get hard and gave her the look.

"Huh, uh!" Said Tiny, pointing to the bathroom. "Take yourself a cold shower, and start getting ready, cause we're off to pay a visit and play _nice_ with two little old ladies."

Lo rang the doorbell twice before Tiny pushed his hand away and told him to lay off and give

people some time.

"May I help you?" Asked an old black woman. She was wearing a classic maids uniform and no hint of expression on her face.

"Good afternoon, ma'am." Said Tiny, before Lo could get a chance to open his mouth. "We were wondering if the Nelson sisters were in? I'm Clemetine Laurent, and this is Mr. Lo. We need to speak with them, if that is at all possible."

The maid acted as if she were a gatekeeper, sizing up the two of them for worthiness.

"It sure feels like it's gonna be a hot one, doesn't it?" Tiny said, fanning her face. "I don't know why in the world I even bothered with my hair today."

"You all Jehovah's Witness?" Asked the maid, her eyes starting to squint as she eyeballed Lo.

"No ma'am! I'm a Southern Baptist, and Mr. Lo-- Well he's something else." Tiny cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered, "But he's a tall drink of water, so I let him slide."

The maid's face returned to it's former lack of expression, and she told them they could wait in the davenport. She unlocked the wrought iron door and they stepped up into the small, glass, air conditioned porch that separated the outside from the inside. Lo noticed an old vase holding dead flowers that was easily worth twenty-five thousand.

The maid returned after a minute or two and pulled the huge beveled door wide open.

"Follow me into the sun room."

"Thank you." Said Tiny, walking behind the woman. "That sounds just wonderful!"

Lo nudged her like it was overkill, and Tiny glanced over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose up at him.

Sassy, thought Lo.

The massive sun room smelled musty from time and cat piss, and all of the antique furniture looked mismatched and thread bare.

"Wait here." Said the maid. "And don't go wonderin' around."

"No ma'am, we'd never." Said Tiny, and the maid walked from the room mumbling something under her breath.

Tiny looked over at Lo with a satisfied expression across her face.

He acknowledged her victory with a nod.

A huge cherry buffet, covered with old pictures in ornate frames, stood in the middle of the room like a Trojan horse.

Lo glanced casually out through the doorway towards the hall, then walked up to the massive piece of furniture to look at the pictures. Tiny motioned for him to sit, then gave up, obviously flustered, and followed him, creeping dramatically on her tip-toes like a cartoon character.

Almost all of the pictures were daguerreotypes of some sort, or black and whites photographs faded from time.

A man holding two Irish wolf hounds by thick leather collars.

Three young women dressed up and holding parasols in their gloved hands, while posing in front of a race horse wearing a wreath of roses around it's winning neck.

A small toddler in leather buttoned boots, pushing a doll in a miniature wicker baby carriage on intricate iron wheels.

Lo's eyes moved from picture to picture, images of inanimate objects from each individual time period seemed like props from a play he'd once headlined.

"What the fuck?" Tiny's voice was void of its prior hush and sweetness, and her face looked twisted, like she'd just seen something offensive or vulgar.

She pointed with a rigid finger at a picture towards the back of the buffet.

Lo glanced at the door, stepped up behind Tiny, and focused on the picture.

It was a picture of Tino, holding the silver trumpet to his lips. Only this time a small monkey sat idle on his deformed arm, staring into the camera lens.

Lo grabbed the framed picture from the buffet and stuffed it inside of his jacket without even thinking.

A distinct rectangular line pressed through his light wool flannel, looking obvious from the outside, so he pulled the picture from his jacket and tried to place it back properly on the buffet.

Tiny's face looked wild with confusion and concern, as she snatched it from his hand and stuffed it into her big, slouchy leather purse.

"What in the fuck Lo! Who was that? Who are these people?"

His eyes followed the length of her smooth brown arm all the way to the end of her shiny lacquered finger nail, as she pointed towards the back of the buffet.

There was an entire grouping of frames, more than a hundred total, that showcased individual carnival performers. Some had major physical deformities, some had minor. A few showed absolutely no sign of why they were even among the group.

Most had garish banners of some sort, or make shift swags hanging behind them that described their unique and personal novelty as they posed confidently for the photographer.

"Do you like my family of curiosities?" Asked a voice so hoarse, both Lo and Tiny jumped and stood straight up in unison, like a two-man chorus line.

"I'm Mary." Said the old woman, standing in the doorway.

Lo heard Tiny swallow softly.

"What do you want? You the tax man?" Her tone was insolent and aloof.

It was the kind of tone that always helped Lo remember who he was.

"In a way, yes. I am the tax man."

The old woman looked Tiny up and down with indifference.

"I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to answer them." Said Lo.

"And if I don't?" Asked Mary, a small grin starting to appear on her face.

"You will." Said Lo.

Lo heard Tiny swallow again.

The old woman shuffled to a chaise, and basically fell into it.

"You have a wooden stool that's coming up for auction soon." Said Lo. "A stool a young black boy with a deformed arm sat on. His name was Tino and he played the trumpet."

"Bring us something to drink! All of this in here just got real interesting!" Mary yelled to the maid.

Lo's tailed twitched in annoyance under his trousers as he walked across the room and sat down across from the cantankerous old woman. The chair's seat cover was an old, worn out old tapestry, and it sank considerably when Lo sat down.

"She's not going to steal nothin' is she?" Mary asked, motioning towards Tiny.

"She might." Said Lo.

Tiny's thick lips looked pale, and she'd put her hand on the edge of the massive buffet, as if to steady herself.

"Listen, lady. This can go however you want, pleasant or unpleasant, it makes no difference to me."

The old woman laughed in Lo's face.

He grabbed her pale wrist firmly, and every vein showed as the blood pumped slowly through the thin blue cords, like it was wearily coming to an impasse.

He sensed passive aggression, and a lifetime of idle carelessness, along with a weighty, learned lack of tolerance for others. His tongue tasted like he'd been drinking stale beer. It wasn't entirely bad, but it was nothing to write home about, either.

The maid walked in the room, and Lo dropped the old woman's wrist onto the chaise.

"Don't you worry about her, Mr. Lo! She don't give a hoot about what happens to me." Said Mary, motioning towards the maid.

"I wonder why." Lo said, sarcastically.

"She's my flesh and blood, that's why! She should care."

Lo glanced over at the old black woman as she set a tray of whiskey and glasses down on a small table, then poured a tall one for herself and walked out of the room casually, rolling her eyes.

"See! See how she is? I saw that MissyLee!" Mary yelled to the old black woman, then turned to Lo and said, "She's been a real bitch to me all of our lives."

"How's she your blood?" Asked Lo, sensing complete and total dysfunction in the air. It was moving along the high ceilings like a thick film of soot.

"My antecedents liked darkies, that's how! And now just look-- The whole families mixed up like a fruitcake and we're all shades of colored. Ornery as geese too, except for me and my sister Gerty, who's damn near dead.... We're from the real side! The white side that nobody had to hide in the closest like that damn washer girl Tippy, or that floozy mulatto tramp Clarabella and her bastard son Tino."

The old woman was speaking so fast, and at such an emotional clip, Lo could barely keep up with the story.

"Can you believe the great William Jameson screwed the washer girl, along with a couple other servants, then decided to fly-right by getting engaged to Clarabella? All of that nonsense still makes me laugh! Like marrying a french whore you unofficially fathered a child by somehow fixes things."

"Lo! Lo, isn't that the man you were looking for?" Tiny was clearly starting to regain her usual confidence under pressure.

Lo pulled the picture of Clarabella and the old, austere William Jameson from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed it to the old woman.

"That's her! Pretty as a dove, and soiled like a boot scape." Mary said.

"You can have it." Said Lo. "It's a decent picture of your great grandfather, even though you disagree with his choice in a wife."

"That's my great grandfather all right! But Clarabella was his _sons_ wife,William Jameson II. And I'm sure my great granddaddy just posed in this picture to show all of society that he supported his son's choice-- In whores!"

Lo dropped his head in confusion.

The old woman continued on with the story as if it had happened just yesterday.

"My great grandmother was a fine, white, respectable southern woman. A real green eyed beauty of the day. And my great grandfather was a fine, white, respectable southern man. As was their daughter, my grandmother Grace. Now his son on the other hand-- William II. That young man was a common piece of white trash... A wild-eyed drinker and gambler, chasing darkie skirt all over the South!"

Lo lifted his head.

"I was there when he died. I might have been the one who killed him. I'm sorry to say, but he did seem common."

The old woman looked at him strangely but unsurprised, like she was well aware that something unseen was at work in the massive room. Something that circumvented her everyday normal.

Lo walked over to the drink tray and drank down a whiskey, then poured one for Tiny and handed it to her.

She handed it off to the old woman.

"Thank you, girl." Said Mary.

Tiny poured herself a tall one, and drank it down fast, wincing, as the old woman watched her and giggled.

Tiny sat the glass down on the tray, then went and stood behind the chair Lo was sitting in.

The old woman's face started to look as if she was remembering something uncomfortable, something she didn't like to remember.

"Do you wanna know what happened after William II died, Mr. Lo? After you, as you say, killed or did not kill him."

"What?" Asked Lo, wishing like hell he'd never sat on the ridiculous wooden stool.

Missy Lee, the old black maid and part relation, sashayed by on her way out to the patio. She was holding a sandwich in one hand, a book in the other, and wearing a pair of radio headphones on her ears.

The old white woman, clearly annoyed, watched her as she strolled on by.

"My side. My fine, white, respectable southern great grandfather William Jameson I, shot himself from grief and embarrassment, after Tippy the washer girl and another darkie from down at the docks came up pregnant with his son's bastard children. He shot himself, as a gentleman should, and the only hope our side of the family ever had slid right down onto the floor with him."

"What happened to Tippy's child, or the girl from the dock?" Asked Lo.

"What do you mean? They grew up and lived their lives like the rest of us, then died. But they got the Jameson eyes! Can you believe that? I heard that both babies had light eyes... And they've been passing em' down ever since. I used to be able to go into town and spot my kin a mile away, just by those eyes. Some green, some blue-- Some both! Black skinned, light eyed little devils."

"I think I might have met one of your relatives yesterday." Said Lo. "Up by an old boarded up church near-- Well, I'm not sure where it was, but it's seen better days. She's about your age, and has the eyes you speak of."

"That would be Tippy's great granddaughter Bessie. She's crazy as a loon! How in the hell did you run into her and her mischief? Was she bad mouthing my side again? Her and Missy Lee fight like cats and dogs, when they're not gossiping!"

The old woman was clearly beginning to lose her focus.

"What about the boy? And the stool?" Tiny asked, and she pushed down on Lo's shoulder, sharply irritated.

The woman looked up at Tiny, then down at Lo, then back up at Tiny; like the players had changed, but the game was still what it was.

"I'm selling that stool, along with some other macabre things from our wretched past to put food on the table." Said Mary. "Is that all right with the two of you!"

"What in the hell happened to the damn trumpet boy?" Tiny looked as if she might strangle the old woman.

The old woman smiled politely at Tiny, and told her not to get so uppity.

"I'm just trying to remember the _facts_." Said Mary, looking at Lo and raising her eyebrows.

Lo shook his head.

"My great grandmother doted on Tino. She loved him, really... He was so talented on that trumpet, and smart as a whip! He lived a pretty decent life outside of the show, thanks to my side. His so called mother, that whore Clarabella, died of fever shortly after my great grandfather shot himself. And then the god-awful war came, and both my sides seemed to have suffered collectively."

Tiny walked over and sat down on the end of the chaise.

Lo felt his muscles tense in a protective manner. Regardless of the old woman's frailty, he knew whatever might come out of her mouth could be just as violent and destructive to Tiny, if not more so, as anything physical.

Tiny reached into her purse and pulled out the framed picture of Tino that they'd taken earlier from the buffet.

"I did steal something, and I'm sorry." Said Tiny, placing the picture frame gently on the old woman's lap. "When I saw this picture of the boy I was shocked, and I guess, offended-- You see Mary, I have a ten year old son myself, with a similar hand."

Tiny dug around in her purse for her cell phone, and scrolled through the photos to show Mary a picture of Antoine. "He speaks French too, and _loves_ to play the trumpet. And I don't expect you to understand anything about me or my kid... But I'm real glad your great grandmother gave this boy a nice life. She certainly didn't have to."

"She most certainly did! He was kin! Just like my Missy Lee." Mary said, smiling down at the picture of Antoine making a batch of chocolate chip cookies and stirring the big wooden spoon with his small deformed hand. "That's how it's done girl, for better or worse. You gotta stick together, or haven't you heard?" Mary reached out and patted Tiny on the hand.

"You know what?" Said Mary. "I've got something your boy's gonna love."

She reached out to Tiny for help off of the faded silk chaise. Tiny helped her.

The old woman walked hunched and shuffling to a huge polished mahogany cabinet that was built into the wall with an unforgiving labyrinth of shelves and small doors.

"Open that one up there, Mr. Lo." Said Mary, motioning with one frail hand that resembled a dead white fish.

Lo stood up from his chair, uneasy with the turn of events.

"What's wrong with you boy?" Mary asked, and she laughed at Lo. "Did you lose some off that timeless nerve you waltzed in here with!"

Lo walked over and looked up at the carved cabinet door looming above his head.

"Reach up there and open it! Feel all around in there... You'll find it."

Lo stretched one arm above his head and pulled open the door she'd motioned to, then he stuck his hand blindly into the dark recesses of the dark wood.

"Keep scrounging!" Said Mary. Tiny stood next to the woman, her face half curious and half fearful.

The tips of one of his finger's touched something that felt like metal.

Lo reached up and stretched his arm as far as it would go.

He bumped the bottom of the object, and it shifted from it's base, falling over and landing perfectly in his grasp.

A sense of youth shot through his finger's and along his arm. It moved through his chest like a butterfly, and settled down tenderly in his heart, as he pulled the tarnished, purest of silver, intricately inscribed trumpet of Tino, the magnificent trumpet boy, down into the light from the darkness.

"It's so beautiful." Said Tiny, and she touched the bell lightly with a fingertip, like it was some sort of an illusion.

"Give it to your son." Mary said, hoarsely. "And don't you dare insult me girl, by hem hawing around-- I wanna know that life's gonna be blowing through this piece of tin again before I die!"

"It's pure silver." Said Lo. "And it's stories could put a whole lot of food on your table."

"I don't give a rats ass what it could put on my table! It belongs to her boy now."

The old woman took it from Lo's hand, and gave it to Tiny.

"You tell him it's from Aunt Mary-- On his white side!" The woman laughed in both of their faces, and yelled out onto the patio. "Cousin! Would you escort our guests to the door, because we're finished here."

Missy Lee, who was reclining in a patio lounger and reading a paperback romance novel just smiled and waved, looking in at the old woman through a set of decrepit french doors.

"Am I right, tax man? We're done here." Mary said, grinning up at Lo like she knew all along he had nothing on her, or her's.

"Yes ma'am. We're finished here." Said Lo.

They walked out of the massive sun room and down the hallway, through the foyer and out the front door. Closing the huge beveled glass door firmly behind them as they left.

The heat outside felt overpoweringly gracious, as if it were forcing some sort of redemption down their throats, like a mother pushing nourishment upon a sickly child.

"Are you okay?" Lo asked Tiny.

"I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"Yes. That-- That was freaky." Said Lo.

"Yeah, it was." Said Tiny, looking down at the silver trumpet in her hand, and back towards the old woman's home.

They walked away, down the sidewalk, and Lo glanced back over her shoulder as the house was swallowed up by ancient magnolias and foliage.

"What do we do now?" Asked Tiny.

"Find somewhere to eat because I'm freaky hungry."

"Well don't abuse the word, or it will lose all meaning! You thought all along I was just being silly with slang, but now you understand what I was talking about. What I mean, when I say that word."

"Yes I did, and yes I do." Said Lo.

"How did you know so much about that boy?" Asked Tiny.

"I sat on his stool a while back."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to upset you."

"It's obviously upset you-- Do you think we're them or something?"

She handed him the trumpet and bent down to adjust the ankle strap on her modest heel.

"Are we them, Lo? Do people get recycled? Do you know something freaky about nature, or peoples souls, or something that you don't want to tell me? Am I a French whore, pressed into a new shape? A new piece of old plastic."

She stood up, smoothed her skirt and looked at Lo.

"I mean, how many options can nature keep coming up with? It seems to me, that after a while, things would have to get recycled. How in the hell is all of this possible, Lo? Will you please say something!"

"I honestly don't know what to say Tiny. It's freaky! I admit it. It definitely has me interested. We're here aren't we?"

"At least tell me if you've seen something like this before. Have you noticed this kind of pattern with people?" Her face looked spooked.

"What kind of pattern?"

"Like you've been dealing with the same person, over and over, but they're pressed into a different shape, or mold."

Just the idea of coming across someone completely foreign, or alien, or new, sounded like a science-fiction plot he'd never heard, or an episode of Star Trek he accidentally missed.

"Antoine's going to shit when he sees this." Said Lo, turning the trumpet over in his hand and obviously trying to change the subject. "We'll make up a story about where it came from. Maybe a second hand music store."

"Hell no we won't! He's going to hear the whole story from you. I want him to know that what comes around, goes around, and just maybe, sometimes, might come back again. I want Antoine to know about Tino. I think it's good to sit back and consider yourself and your choices, and the way you act towards life, and after hearing all of that back there-- I'm feeling pretty good about the way I'm pressing out my new piece of plastic."

"Clementine- believe me, you're an original." Said Lo.

"I don't know about that-- But I'm a mom, a daughter, and the devil's assistant." Said Tiny, taking off the conservative paisley headband she was wearing, and shaking her jet black hair back down and around her face and neck. "And you know what? That takes a whole lot of thinking."

### 31

"Hi Mom! Hi Lo! You sure missed a lot of drama!" Said Antoine, as the cab driver helped Lo pull the bags from the trunk.

Tiny was too busy hugging on him to fully comprehend what he was saying.

"Thank you so much Ty, I owe you one." Tiny said, as Antoine squirmed from her grip and ran around to the back of the cab to watch Lo and the driver pull out the luggage.

Lo pushed one of the lighter pieces towards Antoine, and he pulled it up over the curb using both of his hands but scraping the side of the canvas along the cement.

Lo pushed a second piece, a heavier one, towards him, and pointed at the wheels.

Antoine looked down at the little plastic wheels, and it all registered.

He rolled the second piece up and over the curb with leverage, and it came to a rest perfectly at his feet.

He reached out in excitement and gave Lo a high five.

"Were you good for Tyrone and Grandma?" Asked Lo, smiling.

"I totally was! I helped Ty organize his bead collection, and I cleaned up the kitchen for Grandma. Twice!"

"Did you make it to school on time each day? Your mom was worried."

"I did! She always thinks I'm goofin' around somewhere, but I'm not."

The driver shut the trunk, and Lo noticed that Tiny was talking to Ty in a hushed tone.

Ty was shrugging his shoulders and making a flippant motion with his wrist, but Tiny's face held a look of controlled worry.

He handed the cab driver some cash, and the man slid the money into his pocket, pulled an unlit cigarette from behind his ear, and stuck it between his lips before jumping in the driver's seat and pulling away.

"Did you guys bring me something?" Asked Antoine.

"Maybe." Said Lo, and he handed the kid his keys and asked him to wheel one of the bags inside and upstairs to his apartment.

Antoine took the keys and muscled the bag through the front door of the building.

"What's going on?" Asked Lo, as the heavy front door closed behind Antoine's endless determination.

"Kenny came sniffin' around here a couple of nights ago lookin' high as a kite, so I had to call the cops. It was no biggy." Said Ty.

"What did he want?" Asked Lo.

"Same shit different day. Money, money, money." Said Ty.

"Where were Antoine and Elly?"

"In bed, thank you Jesus! I just happened to be up watching my films noir, when I saw his dumb-ass chicken head pop up by the windows."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him he better never, ever, come up and around here."

Lo could smell the slightest bit of fear coming from Tiny.

"It wasn't that big a deal Peaches, I promise. But Antoine woke up and saw Kenny acting the fool when the cops rolled in, so I had to tell him something." Tyrone was trying his best to play down the unfortunate chain of events.

"Did they take him away?" Asked Lo.

"Hell yes! They told me he's got a warrant out, so he'll be vacationing for a while."

Tyrone's eyes were saying more than his mouth ever could, and when Tiny turned to walk up the stairs to the front door of the building, Ty flashed Lo a look that said it all.

"Hey Momma, we're back!"

Elly was standing by her potted miniature orange tree in the living room with a water mister in her hand. Tiny walked up to her and gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi baby! How was your day at work?" Asked Elly, smiling.

"It was real good... I had a nice day." Tiny glanced back at Ty and Lo, with a half smile.

"It's the magic man!" Said Elly, pointing at Lo and smiling.

Lo walked over to where Elly was standing and held onto the trunk of the tiny tree. The branches were covered with hard, green fruit the size of grapes. He rubbed the skinny little trunk slowly between his fingertips, and the fruit began to turn a pale golden yellow, then a bright golden orange.

Elly clapped as the fruit changed colors and grew to the size of golf balls, hanging heavily from their little stems.

One fell to the floor and rolled to the side of Tiny's foot.

She bent down and picked it up. Her face ran a gamut of expressions; from charmed, to shocked, to disturbed.

"Wow wee!" Said Elly. "I'm so glad you come around. You're so fun!"

Lo tipped an imaginary hat to the entire living room.

"Oh my stars, Peaches! He is fun-- And these smell divine." Tyrone was touching the brightly colored fruit, then smelling his fingertips, delighted.

Lo placed his hand on Tiny's back and rubbed it softly. She relaxed into his touch.

"Everything's going to be fine." He whispered to her. "I've still got some pretty decent tricks up my sleeve, and if I have to, I can make things disappear."

Ty and Elly were still gushing over the little orange tree, as Antoine came skipping happily through the foyer.

"What'd I miss? Wha'd I miss!" Asked Antoine, stopping mid skip and walking casually into the living room.

"Absolutely nothing." Said Tiny, and she put her arm around his shoulder and pulled him towards her and Lo. He smiled up at them innocently, then turned to look at what Ty and his grandma were fussing about.

"Hey... Wait a minute you guys, I did miss something!" Antoine pointed with amazement at the sumptuous fruit hanging from the little tree, as the sickly sweet smell of orange essence filled the air in the apartment, like a night out in New Orleans.

### 32

"I know who you are. You don't need to show me anything." Said the uniformed officer, standing at the front of the counter smugly.

"Good." Said Lo. "Because I doubt you would want to see what I was going to show you."

A thick wall of glass went from the counter to the ceiling, and ten holes were placed neatly in the middle for clear speaking between the two parties.

The officers expression changed from slightly arrogant, to slightly grateful, and Lo turned and sat down on one of the fold-out metal chairs lining the precinct's waiting room.

An older man who was waiting in one of the metal chairs, and had obviously over heard the entire exchange of words, looked at Lo and smiled, enjoying the fact of someone giving this cop something to think about.

Lo heard the front intercom buzz and listened as a voice from his past told the uniformed officer to get his head out of his ass.

Lo looked down at his wingtip shoes, licked his thumb, and rubbed at a small smudge of dust.

The door buzzed, clicked and the uniformed officer stood in the doorway.

"Come right this way, sir, and I apologize for the wait."

Lo looked at the officer as if he were an animal of prey, then shared a conspiring glance with the old man in waiting room. The old man nodded at Lo and raised his eyebrows in a gesture that meant must-be-nice-to-be-you.

The smells in the hallway hadn't changed in the least. It could have been a hundred years ago, or it could have been ten.

Coffee, wood, paper, guilt mixed with regret.

Men and women of various ages and ranks turned to look as Lo walked by.

Most were dressed in some sort of government issued legal uniform, while others sat in their individual offices dressed in a suit and tie, but craning their necks just the same to get a glimpse of something unique in all of the world, and completely untouchable in their field of work.

Something entirely immune to their system. Indestructible.

Lo couldn't help but feel the once familiar sense of superiority.

Look at all of these people willing to put their one measly life on the line, thought Lo. All for some greater sense of good for their fellow man. An idea that obviously exceeded the exchange of such a modest sum of money.

"I see you're still looking down on all of us." Said the detective, extending his hand to Lo.

Lo laughed, and shook the man's hand, telling him he hadn't aged a day since the last time they'd seen each other.

"I had sideburns for Christ sakes, Lo. Big, bushy Serpico sideburns! Who has sideburns in the department anymore? Hell. To be honest with you-- I'm just thrilled I haven't had the big one."

The man put his hand over his heart theatrically.

"You know I can tell you a few things, if you're interested." Said Lo, motioning towards the man's chest.

"No thank you!" Laughed the man. "I've done sixty one years without you laying your hands on me, and I intend to keep it that way."

"Fair enough." Said Lo, smirking.

"Sit down-- Can I get you something? Coffee, water... Nobody, and I mean nobody, keeps liquor around anymore. I guess some things have changed."

"No. I'm good."

"Hell yes you're good! I see you in the papers..." The detective leaned back in his chair and it made a small squeak as he put his hands behind his head. "Jesus, the fun just never ends for you does it?"

"It just never ends." Said Lo, and a sad, unspoken truth passed between them.

They stared across the desk at each other, shaking their heads and grimacing intermittently.

"Hang in there, buddy." Said the detective.

"Oh, I am. That's the reason for my visit today."

"Shit. Who's dead and where's the body?" Asked the detective. His face was grinning, but his voice was serious.

"No one-- Yet." Said Lo.

"Who is he?"

"He's already locked up. They brought him in a few days ago on a warrant. He's a scumbag drug addict."

"Yeah, but _who_ is he?"

"He fathered my wife's kid."

"Jesus! Congratulations on that by the way. I saw her picture, she's gorgeous. But Jesus, right--"

They looked at each other in silent agreement of the situation.

"What's his name?" Asked the detective, sitting up in his chair and pulling his keyboard towards him.

"Kenny Craven."

The detective tapped on the keyboard.

"Kenneth Estes Craven. Thirty two, African American." Said the detective. "They got him over at fourteen-- Being held on two counts of rape. Looks like he's waiting for bond. Jesus, this guys rap sheet is pathetic... Fraud, attempted rape, more fraud, and oh, big surprise, narcotics as far as the eye can see."

"How is he even walking around?" Asked Lo.

"Our system is fucked." Said the detective. "It's a crap shoot with a lot of these losers. People get scared, charges get dropped-- I wouldn't be surprised if this idiot makes bail."

Lo felt his tale twitch.

"If he comes around my wife or the kid, I'm killing him. I need you to hear me John, so you're not put off when you have to do the paper work."

"Put off!" The man leaned across his desk, then picked up his cell phone and pressed the end button twice, making sure it was off. "Give me a little credit, will you, Lo? This jack ass has been, is, and will continue to be, the paperwork. You do what you have to do, and then call me."

Lo leaned back in his chair and crossed his leg over his knee.

"I'm shocked, John!" He said sarcastically. "You've changed since we last spoke."

"I grew up." Said the man. "You told me I would, and I did. Are you surprised?"

"No." Said Lo. "I'm never surprised when smart men see things my way. Even if it takes them forty years."

"I tried to do things different from my father, I really did... And what can I say? Now I am my father."

"Your father was a smart man, John. He wore the uniform well." Said Lo.

"My son's in the force now. Maybe someday you'll be sitting across from him."

"Maybe." Said Lo. "Or maybe I'll just go back to doing it _my_ way, and save everyone a lot of good shoe leather."

"Now that sounds like something my dad would have said." The detective laughed.

Lo stood up and reached across the desk to shake the man's hand before he left.

"Remember when you put street gravel into my hand, but somehow made it look like a pile of diamonds to prove your point? I'll never forget that as long as I live... I've told that story more times than I can remember."

"That's right! God, your face was priceless." Said Lo, suddenly remembering. He'd forgotten all about that time.

"The lesson was priceless."

"Remind me." Said Lo. "I've been teaching lessons a long time."

"You lived over by the park, and one of your neighbors, a real hot shot art dealer, took a nose dive off of his balcony for no apparent reason. I asked if I could question you, remember? Your girlfriend at the time- a tall, striking blonde, had a black standard poodle that tore the pant leg of my first street uniform. We went down to the front of the building to talk, because she said we were making her and her dog jumpy."

"That's right. I totally remember now. How old were you, about twenty one, twenty two?"

"Twenty two, and two months on the job."

"And you were pretty sure I was involved in some way." Lo grinned.

"I was."

"And I told you that things aren't always as they appear."

"You told me that smoke and mirrors can hide a lot of shit."

"That sounds like something eloquent I would say." Laughed Lo, slightly embarrassed by his candor with mortals.

"And I did some digging, as you suggested... And it turned out the guy was heavily involved in dealing heroin. Pissed off the wrong people and down he went. That definitely gave my career the jump start it needed."

"I remember that. It was all over the papers. That asshole's taste in art was for shit anyway, if you ask me." Said Lo.

"I feel like I never got to thank you for all of that-- It moved me along in the files, Lo, it really did. And I'll never forget those diamonds in my hand."

Lo tipped his imaginary hat.

"My point is, Lo, build your own smoke and mirrors before you take this guy out. Give him the rope and he'll hang himself. Listen to me for a minute, man to man-- Regardless of what a scumbag this Kenny character is, why would you want to look like a killer to your wife and kid if you don't have to? I know a dead guy is just another drop in the bucket to you, but you're a family man now, with an impressionable kid involved."

Lo was definitely listening to the man's words.

"If there is anything else I can help you with as far as this Cravens character is concerned, let me know."

"To be perfectly honest with you, John, I think you just moved me along in my own files."

"How's that?"

"You told me to act like a husband and a father, which is what I am now. At least for the time being."

"It happens to the best of us, Lo. Do right by this broad and her kid. Fight the good fight. You'll have thousands of years to kill the likes of Kenny Cravens."

Lo walked down the steps from the police station and into the crowds on the sidewalk, wondering how he could have ever imagined it would be as easy as just removing this guy from the picture.

People passed, coming and going, completely unaware of the comforts of being born into a world of self imposed social order, and governmental rules and regulations. Living out their entire life never really knowing what they were missing.

At least the majority did.

Some of them risked it. Some of them considered the reward outweighed the cost.

He was different though. His past was rooted in unreasonable behavior, even though the bad branches had long since withered and died away from the tree, leaving nothing but a nondescript, neutral display of twigs and leaves.

Didn't people expect him to error on the bad side?

Lo thought about Mrs. Bailey.

"Now listen to me, my dear boy." She would say, as she sipped a double glass of sherry in a parlor chair next to the fire. "Stop allowing your past, and the people in it, to predict your future. You and only you, in the present, should be the indicator of such things!"

He sat alongside of her, smoking a hand rolled cigarette and pulling at the cuffs of his tweed trousers.

"What is happening there? Why do you keep fiddling?" She asked, motioning down to his hooves.

Lo shrugged his shoulders and expressed his wishes for the feet of a normal man.

"Would you be able to run faster, or jump higher?" Asked Mrs. Bailey.

"No-- But I'd be able to blend in and..."

"And separate. From your past." She stood up from her chair and smoothed the thick, velvet folds on her dress, then reached into a brass box and pulled out a pair of thinly wired spectacles mounted onto a etched mother of pearl stem.

"Let me have a look-see, my dear." Said Mrs. Bailey, moving across the room in the firelight, and placing the spectacles up to her face, blinking her eyes a few times to acclimate.

Only a handful of people in his entire memory had ever looked closely at his hooves.

The very idea of such a proper and upstanding lady being so curious and familiar with Lo, to investigate the situation, his situation, like he needed help, made him surrender to her inspection.

He pulled his trouser up to his knee and pushed down the black silk sock that covered the hoof and ankle bone, moving it back and forth and around, like he was demonstrating something mechanical.

"I see--" Said Mrs. Bailey, taking a hold of Lo's hoof and positioning his knee towards the firelight, handling it as if it were her own, so she could get a better look. "It's very much like that of a common horse hoof, but thinner and finer boned... It's the foot of a living satyr!"

Lo sat looking at his bare hoof exposed in the firelight, mildly disgusted.

She patted his knee gently like he was a pouting child, and then pulled the spectacles from her face, smoothing the pleats and fabric, ever in a constant battle of her rigid evening attire.

"I know a man who I believe possesses the mind of a genius. An absolute genius! If anyone can help us with this situation, he can." Mrs. Bailey looked steadfast and positively assured, wrapped in the folds of heavy mustard colored velvet and aglow in firelight.

"Who?" Lo asked curiously, imagining the faces he'd known throughout time that were completely consumed with the quest of medical knowledge. Faces that saved and slaughtered countless mortals, in equal amounts, with nothing but crude instruments and good intentions.

"My farrier." Said Mrs. Bailey, proudly raising her glass of sherry. "He is ridiculously clever! And he will help you. I feel sure of it."

He did help Lo. And without judgment.

The man was so fascinated by the proposition that he sketched a picture of Lo's hooves on the spot at their first introduction, and asked if he could ask Lo a few personnel questions.

"Anything." Said Lo.

"How do you heal?" The farrier asked.

"Very well. Too well. Almost overnight."

"Much pain?"

"No pain."

"Blood?"

"Yes, but it stops. By will."

"Amazing! Simply amazing! The perfect animal."

"The perfect man." Mrs. Bailey chimed in.

The farrier smiled at her from across a large, rough wooden work table, like he knew her on some sort of an abstract, intimate level that can only be shared by a clever man and knowing woman.

The man took detailed notes and sketched small diagrams, as he pushed and pulled Lo hooves around in every direction imaginable.

"We must break them at the ankles, and reset them parallel to the ground." Said the farrier.

Mrs. Bailey looked intrigued.

"We'll set them in splints. Wrap them up tight. Then shave the hoof down on either side and slide them into shoes. Essentially using the ankle bone as a heel. You'll lose a few inches in height, also..."

At the time, Lo thought the idea was crazy.

After four different designs of wooden splints, and three different methods of breaking the bone, Lo was sliding on a pair of men's size eleven shoes, and standing straight at just under six-three.

The adjustment period was slow, but mostly from vanity.

He purchased at least ten different pairs of fine leather boots and wingtips, and spent hours staring into the mirror. The reflection of his new feet, shod in the finest of leather, was almost too much for him mentally.

He'd been converted to a new way of thinking. A way that made everything seem like it was going to be simple.

No one would be able to easily separate him from a crowd of normal men.

"I can go anywhere now... And do anything." Said Lo.

"You could before." Mrs. Bailey told him, knowingly.

"But it's different now-- I'll blend... Completely!"

"You'll blend subtly."

"And I'll have total privacy."

"You'll have more privacy, dear."

"Everything is going to be completely different!" Lo said, overexcited by the prospect.

Mrs. Bailey had stood in front of him, picking fine lint from the shoulder of his dinner jacket in the dining room of her grand home.

"Complete is such a big word, my dove."

He sighed, aggravated by her rationale; and she smiled at him with ease, while he acted like a child holding tightly to a new toy.

Now, over a hundred years later, Lo realized that Mrs. Bailey had been right on the money.

Complete was a huge word.

Not lacking by definition, but riddled with all sort of loopholes that doubt easily wove itself through, leaving behind loosely sorted ends. It was the type of word that left people examining the end result, and studying the finished product.

Lo never, ever, wanted to make Antoine feel the need to question or examine an end result.

Especially if the result was death, and the decision was Lo's.

An image as powerful as a father figure, regardless of how poor the design, could only be scrutinized in a mirror by the wearer himself. And accepted or rejected accordingly.

### 33

Antoine sat at the front of the classroom telling the story of Tino the trumpet boy, while the kids passed the trumpet around oohing and ah-hing, as if it held some sort of a magical power.

"As you can see..." Said Antoine, holding up a copy of the old picture, then passing it off to an eager blond headed boy with glasses similar to his own. "His hand was a lot like mine. Only way more jacked up."

Jules asked the children to come up with other descriptions for the boys arm.

"Disfigured." Said a Chinese girl towards the front of the room.

"Mismatched." Said another.

"Twisted!" Said Antoine.

"Yes, yes. Totally-- Those are all very precise." Said Jules. "But when were describing deformity, there are several ways to look at it. One way is of the exact description... Another way is of the abstract description, such as twisted or gnarled, or vernaculars such as muffed or jacked. And yet another way to look at it would be to internalize our thinking, and describe it on a more philosophical level, from perceptions of the heart, such as-- Unique." She walked to the chalk board and wrote the word 'unique' in French and Spanish across the slate in purple chalk.

"Exclusive."

"Stylish."

"Prized!"

"Factory!" Said Antoine.

"Fantastic you guys! I'm so blown away by your creativity." Said Jules, looking at all of their young, eager faces. She wrote all of the words on the chalk board in both languages using brightly colored chalks, then asked the children to imagine what it must have been like for Tino to live in that kind of a situation, such a long time ago.

"I think it would be fun!" Said the Chinese girl. "Every night you could go to the carnival, and you'd be like a movie star."

The children looked at each other uneasily, trying to decipher one anothers social cues.

Jules watched all of their curious, naïve faces. All of them exceptional or privileged. She tried to imagine just one of them living a life such as Tino's. Such an exceptionally hard life.

Their parents cared enough to spend an exorbitant amount of money on their education. Clean beds, healthy food, and a strong sense of security made up their dispositions. The thought of any one of these kids dressed up in a costume and playing a musical instrument in some sort of a carnival freak show was unimaginable.

The blond boy with glasses raised his hand.

"Miss Parker, I don't think it would be fun." He shook his head adamantly.

"You don't, Max? Why don't you think it would be fun?" Asked Jules.

"Because people aren't supposed to go to a carnival every night."

The Chinese girl wrinkled her nose and squinted her eyes like she was thinking hard about what the boy just said, then she raised her hand and asked if she could change her opinion. "He's right." Said the girl. "We're not supposed to go to the carnival every night-- And movie stars are lame."

Antoine giggled, and the rest of the class joined in.

"Okay, okay..." Said Jules. "I have to say class, that I, myself, kind of agree. A carnival every night doesn't sound like a good idea. I imagine that Tino was a very smart and courageous person to handle such a thing."

"He didn't have a choice... And that's not fun." Said Antoine.

"No. He didn't." Said Jules. "And not having a choice about how you live your life is not fun."

The class got quiet.

Jules could sense her message seeping into their pliable little brains, slowly, like water through a cracked rubber seal.

"Can we Google other pictures from old sideshows?" Asked the Chinese girl.

"No." Said Jules, flatly. "That's enough exploitation for today. Let's thank Antoine for sharing a piece of history."

"Thank-you-Antoine!" Shouted the classroom.

Antoine took his seat and adjusted his glasses as the silver trumpet was handed back to him, one child at a time, small hand, over small hand. He stuffed it bell first into his book bag, and the mouthpiece stuck out confidently from the side of the canvas, like it needed to breath the air.

Jules stared at the shiny silver tip, imagining the stories it could tell.

The chimes sounded signaling the change in classrooms.

"Okay everyone, I'll see you back here after your immersion class. Let's really focus today and power through." Said Jules.

The Chinese girl jumped up and ran over to Antoine's desk. They chatted like little birds and walked out of the classroom together with their language books in hand.

When the classroom was empty, Jules walked over to Antoine's book bag and placed her fingers on the silver stem of the mouthpiece. She closed her eyes and thought about Tino's young breath blowing through the fine silver tubes,

"What are you doing?" Whispered Steve, standing in the doorway.

Jules jumped.

"Seriously. What is that?" Asked Steve again, this time pointing towards the book bag.

"Nothing." Said Jules.

"B.S. It's obviously something. What is it?"

"Okay! Zip it and I'll tell you." Jules said, motioning for him to keep his voice down.

Steve looked back and forth down the hallways, then walked towards Jules, glancing once more over his shoulder.

"Do you have to be so fucking dramatic?" Jules asked, irritated.

"Oh, yeah-- I'm the dramatic one." Whispered Steve.

Jules pointed down at Antoine's book bag.

"It looks like the end of a trumpet." Said Steve.

"It is a trumpet." Said Jules. "A super old trumpet, with a crazy story. Mr. Lo gave it to him."

"Wow! Really... What's the story?" Asked Steve.

Jules picked up the copy of the picture of Tino from her desk, and casually handed it to Steve.

"What the fuck!" Said Steve, almost shouting.

Both of Jules hands flew up to her mouth in shock.

Steve looked at her in defeat, then shrugged it off.

"What the F is this?" Steve whispered, still seriously curious.

"If you take me out tonight... Anywhere. Just take me out tonight and I'll tell you." Said Jules.

Steve handed the picture back to Jules and straightened up. His arms fell neatly to his side, and she watched the muscles on his forearms move involuntarily, as he looked over his shoulder at the doorway.

"Why are you messing with me?" Asked Steve, when he was sure no one was around.

"Anywhere." Said Jules.

He shifted on his feet. "How about the Thai place near my apartment? You said you liked their food."

"Fine." Said Jules, and she reached out and brushed the hairs on his forearm lightly with her fingertips. "I suggest you change your sheets."

Steve's face flushed a rosy pink, as he turned and bumped into a desk. He tripped over the desk's chair and quickly righted it, before walking out of the classroom.

"Be there at 7:00 sharp, please. We have a lot of things to do tonight." Said Jules, right before he walked through the doorway and disappeared out into the hall. The slightest hesitation in his gait assured her that he'd heard every word, and understood every insinuation.

Steve stuck his arm back though the doorway for a split second, and made a thumbs up gesture.

It was gone in a flash.

Jules looked down at the picture of Tino that Steve had placed, in one trance like motion, back in her hand. Her head began to spin just thinking about how life in general was so short, and so hard, for so many people.

And how tonight she'd eat Thai food, sitting across from Steve in her sexy gingham dress.

They'd laugh and trip-out together on the trumpet's crazy history, just like they've done a hundred times before with a hundred other crazy stories. But this time she'd kiss him, and tease him, and let him fuck her for the first time in his bed. The first time of what she hoped in her heart would be many times to come.

### 34

"I'm scared baby, it's big." Said Tiny.

"You'll get used to it." Said Lo.

"I can't believe there's a fireplace in our bedroom. I've never had a fireplace-- Ever. And now we'll have four." Her brow looked tense.

"I think Elly's going to love the kitchen. She'll have eight burners to work with. Just think of all the bacon she can fry." Said Lo.

Tiny looked over at him with a you-so-silly look on her face.

The house was a historic three story walk up, perfect for a family, and still close enough that Antoine could stay at the academy, and Elly could attend her therapy. Lo knew that when the time was right, he'd make a couple phone calls and have some of the best doctors stepping and fetching, but that could wait.

In the hunt for the perfect home, he learned to go easy with Tiny and grandeur, because she'd get overwhelmed, which ended in tears and a headache.

"I can't believe we have a backyard-- Who has a backyard in Harlem?" Said Tiny.

"We're getting a car, too." Said Lo. "You can drive Antoine to school, and you and Ty can drive yourselves to the sales at Bloomingdale's... Won't that be fun?"

"I think I'd like a car with air conditioning. But I don't have to have air conditioning."

"Honey! You need to listen to me." Said Lo. "We have money now. Lots of it. You'll have air conditioning, and leather, and heated seats. The works... I'm thinking something safe like a Mercedes or a Lexus, something nice and dependable."

She started to cry.

"Oh, no. Is the car thing kind of scary?" Asked Lo, and he pulled her in close and kissed her on the top of her head. "Should we call this off until tomorrow and go home?"

"We are home." She said, sniffling. "And it makes me hate my place, a place that I used to love."

Lo was always surprised by a feminine reasoning.

"I feel guilty because I like it so much better here."

"Why feel guilty?" Asked Lo.

"I didn't do anything to deserve it."

"What did you think was going happen if we got married?" Asked Lo.

"I honestly didn't think that far ahead-- I just knew I didn't want to be some slutty mom, screwing the devil every night up in his apartment. That's not a good look for any woman."

"And now you're not slutty. You're legit."

"I am legit."

"You can screw me wherever, and it's nothing but class."

Tiny walked over to the stove and ran her hands along the stainless steel surface of the cook top, turning the buttons on just enough for the gas to make a slight hiss, then turning them off again.

"I have something to show you." She said.

"This sounds interesting."

"No, it's not sexy."

She reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope.

"Kenny's mom sent me a couple of pictures of her family before she died eight years ago. At the time, I didn't give a damn, because I didn't want anything to do with any of them-- But I kept the pictures for Antoine... When I was packing up boxes yesterday, I found the envelope in my closet."

Lo looked at the old envelope in her hand.

Tiny took the photographs out, flipped through a couple, and handed him one.

Four black women were sitting on a long chenille sofa, smoking cigarettes and laughing. Their hairstyles had so many flips and twists, it looked like they were wearing ornate chocolate pastries on their heads. Lo's expression of fun dropped when he got to the third woman in the picture.

"Shit." Said Lo.

"I know." Said Tiny.

The third woman wore a pencil thin red skirt and a sky high beehive hairdo. Her skin was the color of a creamy coffee, and she was wearing a pair of black cat-eye glasses. The glasses acted as the perfect picture frame for her amazingly green eyes.

"This is one of Kenny's relatives?" Asked Lo.

"One of his aunts. Her name was Rita." Said Tiny. She turned the picture over, and on the back was each woman's name scribbled in a penciled cursive. The third name read- Aunt Rita.

"Why did you show me this?"

"Because I know it's important to you. I mean what if someday you could find me again-- Sit on my stool and find me first, before anything bad happens to me."

Tiny turned around and opened up one of the overhead kitchen cabinets. It was designed to hold plates sideways, and she slipped her hand into the wooden crevasse and felt the smooth wood.

"Kenny raped me, Lo." Said Tiny.

Lo wasn't sure what to say. He opened the cabinet next to where she was standing.

"I don't ever want Antoine to know that-- Or my mom. I don't ever want anyone to know that except for you."

"No one will ever know." Said Lo.

"We were on a date, and I went back to his apartment. He held me down and everything. I tried to make him stop." Said Tiny.

"You don't have to explain anything to me. I believe you."

"It was like I was a completely different person back then-- I trusted people too much... I was dumb."

"You weren't dumb. " Said Lo, seriously.

"Whatever I was, it happened, and I got Antoine out of it. That's the only thing that's ever mattered to me until I met you-- And then I thought, hey, this guy's really cool. He's nice to me and my family, and I have fun when I'm with him. And when we're alone together, it's the best it has ever been for me-- I'm really turned on by everything about you."

Lo closed the cabinet in front of him, then reached over and closed the one in front of her.

"I'm embarrassed." Said Tiny.

"Why? I'm your husband, and you can tell me anything."

"I know I can-- But everything about you makes me want to be strong and solid... Not some victim."

"Nothing about you is a victim to me. But I need to ask you something?" Said Lo.

"Okay."

"Why didn't you tell the police that he raped you?"

"Because I blamed myself for going home with him... I was a poor black girl from Harlem who grew up on welfare and lived in the projects with my mom-- But the next time I went to a man's apartment, I made sure he paid me first."

"Did you sleep with Kenny later on, after he raped you?"

"God No! Lo! How could you think that?"

"Then how would he know that Antoine was his?"

"Because-- It was obvious that night-- I was a virgin."

Lo's tail twitched.

"One of his cousins was good friends with a girl from beauty school. She told Kenny that I was pregnant, and he did the math and told me that he had rights to the baby. When he came to the hospital, he saw Antoine through the glass, saw his hand, and that's the last time we saw him until I started making some real money."

"This Kenny character sounds like a real mother fucker! And now on top of everything else, he's a confirmed rapist-- I mean come the fuck on... This guy needs to die." Said Lo, rubbing the stumps of his horns and thinking back to the conversation with the detective. He was sure he could feel his blood pumping faster through his veins.

"I should have told you before you married me, but I was afraid you wouldn't be into me anymore, and I'd be just one of your leftovers."

Lo laughed out loud.

"Why are you laughing?" Tiny asked, her voice sounded hurt.

"Because I've never had a left over in my life! I don't do that kind of thing to women, Tiny. I've never raped, or used, or touched a woman unless she wanted me to. Even a thousand years ago when that kind of thing was rampant. This whole thing with you and me-- Us together-- It's kind of a big deal for me."

She reached over and rubbed his bicep.

"You're getting kinda sweaty, boo. Let's go stand in front of the freezer." Tiny took him by the hand and led him to the huge Viking freezer that was paneled in wood to match the cabinets. She opened the door and pushed on his back until he was leaning into the frozen air.

"Now I'm embarrassed." Said Lo.

"Why?"

"Because my heads in a freezer, and I'm going to gut this Kenny character like a fish."

"Baby! You're mad... I shouldn't have told you, but I didn't want to lie to you."

"I don't ever want you to lie to me Clementine. Not ever." Said Lo, his voice sounded hollow from the echo of the freezer box.

"I won't, baby. Not ever."

"Even if you think whatever it is is going to make me really mad, you still have to tell me."

"Okay." Said Tiny, rubbing his back gently until he took a few deep breaths and calmed down.

They sat down on the cool granite floor with their backs against the front of the refrigerator, and Tiny put her head on Lo's shoulder.

"I think it's going to take some time for you to adjust." She said.

"Adjust to what?" Asked Lo.

"Adjust to playing normal."

"I did good at the MET benefit."

"Yeah, you did."

"Kenny's still alive, and believe me, that's saying something about my ability to put up with shit and adjust."

"I know, baby." Tiny said, and she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Do you remember the first time we were together, and I told you that I didn't need you to tell me how great I was." Said Lo.

"Yeah-- I could have died from embarrassment." Said Tiny looking over at him.

"I think I need you to do that for me right now."

"Really?" Asked Tiny, her face looked like she wasn't sure what was happening.

"Just tell me you love me more than any other man you've ever known."

"I do."

"Can you be naked when you say it?"

"Do we have time?"

Lo looked at his watch.

"We have forty minutes."

"Do you think you can work out your issues in forty?" Asked Tiny, licking her lips.

"Definitely." Sighed Lo.

She unzipped her dress and pulled off her panties. Lo watched as they fell to the floor like a perfect white snowflake. Her white lace bra was still on when she kicked his legs apart and crouched down in between them. Lo unhooked the front clasp on her lacy bra. It opened, and her breasts popped out from behind the soft white lace. He put his face in between them, then kissed and sucked softly on each nipple.

"I love you, boo." Said Tiny.

"I still want to kill him." Said Lo.

"I know you do."

"Let's find some carpeting." Said Lo.

"I don't think there is any... There might be some in one of the closets."

"Are you kidding me?"

"I'm not-- You had to have hardwood and granite, remember?"

Lo stood up off the floor in his gray flannel suit, and unloosened the tie from around his neck. He took her by the hand and led her naked in high heels around their new house, opening and closing doors until he found one small linen closet with pink shag carpeting. They looked at the carpeting with aversion.

"Can we rip this out, and put in something else?" Asked Tiny.

"Totally." Said Lo, and he picked her up with one arm and laid her down on the fuzzy square of dingy carpet.

He threw his suit jacket on the floor in a heap, undid his belt, and unzipped the fly on his trousers.

"Are we both gonna fit?" Asked Tiny, looking up at him. Her breasts were parted and looked soft and round against her ribcage.

Lo got down on his knees and pulled his cock from his trousers.

"Do you love me?"

"I love you baby, you're my man for real." She giggled.

Tiny ran her fingernails through the back of his hair, then rested her hand on his neck.

"I love you, Lo." She said softly, with sincerity. "You take such good care of me."

He slid into her and they both looked down at his cock, watching as it moved slowly in and out of her wetness, to the rhythm of her breathing.

Her hand tightened around the back of his neck and Lo knew she was going to cum. He lifted her ass up slightly and pushed into her, real deep and real slow. Just the way she liked it.

"Hellooo?"

Lo heard a woman's voice, but it sounded far away. He inhaled deeply. Another female was in the house.

Tiny was pushing down on his cock and starting to moan.

"Honey." Lo said, softy.

"Oh god-- You feel so good."

Lo clenched his teeth and pushed his cock in deeper, trying to make her cum faster.

Tiny wrapped both arms around his back and pulled herself up into his chest.

"I love it deep..."

"Honey-- The real estate lady is downstairs." Whispered Lo.

Tiny pushed down on his cock twice, quickly, then pushed him off and put her fingers in between her legs, moaning softly like she was in pain. Lo put his hand in between her legs and started to whisper something, but she pushed him away and put her fingers over his mouth.

Lo stood up and squeezed his cock, trying to make it go soft before stuffing it back inside of his trousers and pulling up the zipper. It made a loud zzzzppp sound, and Tiny shot him a I-can't-believe-you look, as she reached across the floor and pulled on his suit jacket.

"Hi, Evelyn-- We'll be right down." Lo yelled, down the hallway.

"I could kill you! You said we had time!" Whispered Tiny.

Lo buckled his belt and smoothed his hair, then grabbed Tiny's hand and squeezed it.

"Will you go. Just go! Now!" Said Tiny.

"I'm going." Said Lo.

He walked casually down the stairway, and Evelyn stood watching him from the foyer as he took each step.

"I'm early." Said Evelyn, grinning.

"You're early." Said Lo.

"I think your wife's going to be needing these." She handed the dress to Lo, along with Tiny's lacy bra and white silk panties. "Extra small-- That must be nice." Said Evelyn, and she raised one eyebrow.

Lo smiled sheepishly as he took the dress and panties from the woman's hands.

"We'll be down in a minute."

"I'll get the papers ready in the kitchen. Take your time, Tiger." Said Evelyn, as Lo turned and walked up the staircase.

Tiny was waiting in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of a huge tiled bathtub and wearing his suit jacket. Her legs were crossed at the knee seductively, but her arms were crossed over her chest adamantly.

"Don't be mad." Said Lo, and he handed Tiny her extra small panties. She snatched them from his hand and pulled them on over her high heels, hooked her bra without looking, then took the dress and shook it lightly, before sliding it on, like a hand slides into a glove.

"She's early..."

"Don't say another word, just zip me up!"

Lo zipped up the back of her dress, as Tiny pulled her gold metallic fingernails through her jet black bangs. She pushed her cleavage into place, and pinched her cocoa colored cheeks lightly, to make them blush.

"Let me look at you." Said Tiny.

Lo stood in front of her and opened his arms.

"I can't believe I didn't get to finish my orgasm. My stomach feels funny now." Tiny whispered, as she straightened his tie and wiped the sparky lip stuff off of his face.

Lo cringed at the thought of having half an orgasm, and told her he'd make it up to her.

"Oh! Okay. That sounds nice." Said Tiny, sarcastically. "But first, let's go downstairs so you can introduce me as your slutty little wife, who's obviously okay with walking around naked as a jay bird in a strange house, and sexing it up on the floor of a shitty little linen closet- Tiger."

"It's our house-- And she doesn't know we were in the linen closet." Said Lo.

Tiny pointed at him with her gold fingernail, and told him he'd better quit starting things that he couldn't finish.

### 35

"Do you think you can find out who the woman is?" Lo asked Jack.

"Maybe-- But are you sure you want to know all of this creepy shit? It seems to me like the world is your oyster right now, big guy... What are you looking for? I don't want you going back to the bad place."

"I'm not going back to the bad place." Said Lo. "But I am curious."

Jack made a I-don't-know-about-this face across the table and asked if he could finish Lo's coleslaw. Lo slid the bowl of slaw across the table, then watched as he over-salted it.

"What if all of these people are connected, and I just happened to sit on the stool and notice? Or what if somehow, people repeat... Over and over again, by accident. Or stranger yet by design! Like what if five hundred years from now, I'm sitting at a table and some other knucklehead with a big mouth and a giant ego is eating my coleslaw-- You're going to sit there and tell me that's not some ground breaking, scientific, metaphysical shit."

"Please say the new me will have a natural six pack without exercise." Said Jack.

"I'm hoping he'll have a better taste in neck ties." Lo said.

"Sheila bought me this! I like it! She tied me up with it, too." Jack winked.

Lo picked up the unused knife from the place setting. He rubbed the serrated edge with his finger and thought about how it went, when Kenny raped Tiny.

Did she cry? Was it on the floor? Did he know all along he was going to get away with it?

Lo took a drink of his iced tea and looked methodically around the cafe at each person eating their lunch.

The majority were white skinned and well heeled.

They wore expensive clothes, had proper educations, and presumably lived in the appropriate zip codes. Violating any one of their rights was not an option. The amount of law enforcement and attorneys it would take to do so would fill the entire cafe with trails of paperwork leading out onto the sidewalk.

Lo knew life wasn't fair for the average mortal male, but at least they could protect themselves necessarily.

Jack could be a bum on the streets, and the chances of him getting butt-fucked without his consent were slim to none.

"What are you thinking about?" Asked Jack.

"I was thinking about how the chance of you getting raped was slim to none." Said Lo.

"God! Thanks a lot, dickhead... I haven't gained that much weight."

Lo told him that's not what he meant.

"Do you swear? Tell me the truth. Because when Sheila gets on top, I noticed my gut looks fucking huge." Said Jack. "Thank god I got some cash to throw at that fiery bitch, or she'd be out the door."

Lo laughed, and told him they should start jogging in the mornings.

"I knew it! I'm a fucking whale." Jack looked down at the piece of pie he was eating, like it was pure evil.

"No, no. I was just thinking because we're in the same neighborhood now, it might be a nice thing to do in the morning." Lo said, calmly.

"You're scaring me, Lo."

"I'm adapting."

"Why in fuck would you want to do that?" Asked Jack.

"Because I have a family now that needs me to adapt-- Needs me to blend in... I want to give my wife nice things, and for her to be accepted by nice people. I want to do right by Antoine, and instill good values and the right kinds of lessons. A good education. A nice home. Fun things. Expensive things."

"As opposed to?" Jack's face was confused.

"Killing the man that raped Tiny-- Antoine's father. Just because I really, really want to, and can get away with it."

"Jesus! Why didn't you tell me this to start with, Lo? This changes everything." Jack threw his hands up into the air.

"I told her I wouldn't tell anyone."

"And you haven't." Jack said, calmly folding his hands.

"And I haven't." Said Lo.

"Don't worry. I'll find out who this Aunt Rita woman is for you if you really want me to... You just keep on adapting."

"You can't let anyone know what you're doing Jack-- I mean it... I need you to be sly." Said Lo.

"Hey big guy, I may be shopping in the husky department, but I'm always sly. Have I ever let you down before?"

"Never." Said Lo.

"Exactly." Said Jack.

### 36

"Good morning, madame." Said Jack. "My name is Pierson Price, and I'm with the city of Queens water district. May I speak with you briefly about you water consumption?"

The older black woman stood looking at him from behind the rusty screen door.

Jack smiled at her, holding the clip board he'd taken off of his secretary's desk in an attempt to look the part.

"What have you got there?" Asked the woman.

"Official forms. Water business." Said Jack. "May I speak with you briefly, or should I come back later... Or the next day. And then I'll come back the day after that."

"Oh, Lordy-- Come on in." Said the woman.

She opened the old screen door and Jack stepped into the hallway, following her into her living room.

"Now let me see here." Said Jack, trying to sound official. "I see that your name is Rita Jones. Is that correct?"

"Jones is my maiden name. My married name is Flowers. My husband's dead now."

"I'm sorry to hear that, madame."

The woman's living room looked like a perfectly preserved time capsule from the late nineteen sixties.

She stared at Jack through a pair of bifocals. Her bright green emerald eyes were ageless.

Jack flipped through the blank pieces of paper, wishing like hell he'd pulled out some old briefs and used that as a cover, instead of the clean white sheets in front of him on the clipboard.

"Okay, now..." Said Jack, pushing the pair of fake glasses he bought at the drugstore further up on his nose. "How many people live in this homestead?"

"You're looking at it." Said the woman.

"Do any other family members live close by?"

"Just my sister. She lives two streets over, and our no-good nephew lives with her."

"And what are their names?"

"Celia and Kenny."

Jack felt as if he were gaining valuable ground on a proverbial rabbit.

"And what was your grandmothers name?"

"My grandmother? She's not using up any water where she's at." Said the woman, turning her nose up and looking towards the clip board. "What kind of a form is that, anyway?"

Jack laughed out loud from her cleverness, his nerves, and because the entire approach was rapidly starting to dip into a nose dive.

"I like your shoes." Said the woman. "They reminds me of something my husband would've loved."

Jack look down at his crocodile wing tips and rebounded.

"You know what I love?"

"What's that?" Asked the woman, pulling a long cigarette from a flower print vinyl cigarette purse.

"A woman with green eyes." Said Jack. "Spellbinding they are-- Real exotic."

The woman smiled and went to light her cigarette.

"Allow me." Said Jack, and the woman handed him the cheap plastic lighter.

"How old are you?" Asked the woman, after she inhaled.

"Forty one."

"Forty one and fresh as a daisy." Said the woman, looking Jack up and down, without any reservation.

"You don't think I need to lose a few pounds, around the middle?" Asked Jack, opening his suit jacket.

"No, I do not. Everything is right smack where it needs to be." Said the woman, turning her head and exhaling the blue smoke up and away from where the two of them were standing.

"Where did you get those eyes of yours?" Asked Jack.

The woman smiled and sat down on her sofa. It was a dead ringer for the sofa in the picture, but not as long.

Jack sucked in his gut and stood directly in front of her.

"Is that an official question?" Asked the woman.

"It's official to me." Said Jack.

"Fresh as a damn daisy." Laughed the woman as she crossed her legs.

"I'll guess you got them from your father."

"I did."

"May I call you Rita?" Asked Jack.

"You may."

"Rita. I'm going to double down, and say that he got them from his father."

"He did." Said Rita, following the line of his inseam with her gaze.

Jack wasn't sure if he should be flattered, or make a run for the rusty screen door.

"My great grandfather was Irish." Said Jack. "We might be distant cousins."

"Unless he came by the way of a whiskey boat through New Orleans, I doubt it." Said Rita.

Jack laughed out loud again at her cleverness.

It was all mixed up with nerves, perverse tension, and the insane amount of information that was starting to flow like water from a faucet.

"You're a funny woman."

"And you're a good looking white man."

Jack looked down at his wing tips and made the call in his head.

"Rita-- What if I told you that I had nothing to do with the water district?" Said Jack, running his tie slowly through his hand.

The woman grinned flirtatiously, and inhaled from her long cigarette.

"And that I'd vacuum your entire house, every single room, in nothing but these eight hundred dollar crocodile wingtips."

"I'd wonder who you were, and what I did to deserve such a delicious treat." Rita said, smiling.

"I'm Pierson Price, madame." Said Jack, pulling the fake glasses from his face and unbuttoning his pinstriped oxford. "And I'll need you to answer a few more questions for me, while you point me towards the vacuum closet."

### 37

"Are you coming over tonight?" The expression on Steve's face looked like he was hedging some sort of a bet, as he handed her the ceramic mug of coffee with heavy cream, just the way she liked it.

When they'd first started working together three years before, he asked her how she took her coffee, and she told him that she liked it the soft, creamy color of a textbook camels hump.

From that day forward, when he fixed her a cup of coffee, it was the perfect color. Like the double breasted camel hair coat her grandfather used to wear.

"You look weird." Said Jules.

"Thank you." Said Steve.

"Then stop looking weird."

She consciously counted the seconds of silence in her head, and by the time she got to nine-Mississippi, the quiet felt like it was physically crawling up her leg.

"Are you coming over tonight?"

His words sounded like they were mocking her, but deep inside Jules knew better. She wished he was that kind of an guy, so she could throw the coffee into his face and be done with it.

"Do you want me to come over tonight?" She asked, using the exact same cadence and tone.

"I do."

"Then I will come over tonight."

The wind kicked up and Jules placed her hand on the hem of her skirt, but it filled up anyway with the warm spring air, and ballooned out.

"Why does it feel like you're mad at me?" Asked Steve.

"I don't know."

"It's like you weren't expecting it."

"I wasn't."

"So now you're mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Because it seems to me like you're mad."

"I'm surprised."

"Oh! Thank you so much-- I think I'd rather you be mad."

He sat down next to her on the bench and stared off into the play yard. Blaine Whitfield was talking to another boy about the differences between a stock market call, and put.

"Can you believe that kid? He'll make a million by the time he's eighteen or end up in prison. It'll definitely be one or the other." Steve put his hands in his hair and pretended to pull it out by the root.

"Where did you learn all of that stuff?" Asked Jules.

"Seriously?" Said Steve.

"Yeah. I want to know." She could see a thin cord of hurt running across his face.

"Look-- Don't be mad at me, that's ridiculous. I'm sorry if you expected me to be some kind of a sacrificial choir boy, but I'm not going to list my sexual references for you. That's B.S."

"I'm not mad!" Jules snapped.

She was mad.

Jules expected him to be her choir boy.

In her head, she'd imagined blowing his mind with her relaxed confidence and above average body image.

In reality, it had been the exact opposite.

He'd walked into the restaurant wearing a shirt Jules had never seen before, kissed her on the cheek casually, and pulled out the chair next to hers; waving to one of the waitresses in a personal gesture instead of an unknown greeting.

The young waif waitress brought him over a certain brand of Thai beer, without him having to utter a word, and politely asked Jules what she would be drinking. The beer's printed label looked garish, and showed a cartoon tiger drinking from a pool of green water. It's paper eyes leered at Jules as she told the waitress to bring her a vodka martini.

"Ma-tini up." Said the waitress, repeating the order and giggling at her own pronunciation of the word as she smiled down at Steve.

Jules watched as she walked away. Her perfect little butt made the cheap satin china-town cheongsam look like something special.

"Now I know why you like this place."

"I know... The beer selection is extensive and super cheap!"

"Super cheap." Said Jules sarcastically, then realized he either wasn't getting it, or wasn't biting.

"You look pretty." Said Steve.

"Thanks."

"I've never seen you in that dress."

"Steve- you're starting to bug me."

"Gosh, that was fast."

"Just let me have one drink before you lay on your bullshit."

He pushed his beer across the table and said, "Stat."

She pushed it back and took a deep breath, trying to collect some of the confidence she somehow lost in the last few minutes.

"So then tell me." Asked Steve, trying to be part of the solution.

"Tell you what."

"The trumpet."

Jules thought about her walk with Lo to collect Antoine from class.

He was completely confident of his place in her world. An eased association with a thousand spirits just like hers, had been deeply and smoothly carved out thousands of years before.

He listened closely as she spoke about Philosophy, the subject she loved so much, then laughed an understanding, almost compassionate laugh when she mentioned the work of Pythagoras. Like he knew she would eventually understand how idiotic the idea was, if only she had a couple hundred more years to consider it.

Steve stood at the front of his classroom in shock, while one of the students asked Mr. Lo if he would name one thing he knew to be true. Lo looked out at all of the young enthralled faces, and told them to never judge a book by it's cover.

"Remember when Mr. Lo told the kids to never judge a book by it's cover?" Said Jules.

"Of course! Holy cow! How amazing was that?"

"I know, right?"

"It makes me want to rethink everything."

"Me too."

The smiling waitress brought the chilled martini to the table, and Steve didn't so much as glance at the girl.

Thank god, thought Jules, on both counts. The martini and the glance. But mostly the glance.

By the time they'd finished dinner, she'd mellowed considerably from the ease of their conversation and found the smooth, deeply worn groove she hoped was there all along.

"Are you still coming home with me?" Steve had asked.

"Totally." Jules had said, surprised but impressed at his blatant intent on getting her into bed.

The rest of the night had been a blur of extreme sensations and misconceptions.

Blaine Whitfield raced across the lawn in front of the yellow bench, followed by two other boys. It was obvious the three of them were having some sort of a race, and the two other boys had fallen behind Blaine.

"If this isn't a precursor to their futures, I don't know what is." Said Steve.

"I'm not coming over tonight!" Jules blurted out.

"I can't believe you're still mad."

"I'm not mad, Steve-- Okay; I was mad, but I think I just realized something... I think I like your cover better than I like your book."

"What?"

"I want someone who's all book, and no cover."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm all talk and everyone knows it. Everyone! The worst thing I do is use foul language, chew nicotine gum, and tease you on occasion-- I'm not familiar with super cheap Thai beer, and warming lube, and a hundred different ways to bring a woman to orgasm with your tongue."

Steve's face looked surprisingly white.

"I'm sorry-- I know I led you on with my big artsy talk and stuff, but in reality, I'm all cookies and milk and the occasional cigarette-- You're too much for me, Steve! I've only been with three other guys in my entire life, and two of those were in grad school. There! I said it."

Jules massaged her temples slowly in a forward motion, then took her glasses off to rub the bridge of her nose.

"I just know, Steve... You'll be happier in the long run with someone more on your level."

High pitched laughter from a group of girls filled the air, and was quickly carried away by the strong breeze.

Jules put her glasses back on and exhaled.

Steve was staring at the side of her face. She looked over at him.

"What?"

"Are you serious?" Asked Steve, his face was still void of color and expressionless, like a blank canvas.

"About?"

"About everything you just said."

"Yes! And I'm sorry. But don't act so offended. I'm sure judging by everything I experienced, you'll do just fine."

"Oh my FUCKING god!" Said Steve, just slightly under a shout.

Jules flinched the second she heard him say the word "Oh." It was like something deep inside of her, something primal, sensed a negative male reaction was imminent, and prepared her senses for what was coming next.

"You are so full of SHIT!"

"Steve! Keep your voice down! You can still yell at me, but come on."

He motioned at her to stay put on the bench, and stormed off towards the building.

Jules followed him with her eyes, and turned her neck to watch as he ran up the front steps and disappeared into the school.

Great, thought Jules. Never shit where you eat. I bet that's the second truth Mr. Lo would say to the kids.

Steve was back before she could think about how to fix it, and sat down next to her on the bench.

He opened his laptop and tapped on the computer's keys with intent.

"What is this?" Asked Jules.

"Just wait! Give me a minute will you? Please!"

"Fine!"

Jules glanced down at her watch. The entire exchange of truths had taken place in less than five minutes.

Steve thrust the laptop across the foot of angry space separating them on the bench, and into her lap.

Jules cupped her hands over the top of the screen to block out the daylight, then focused on the images that covered the screen like little squares of a colorful quilt.

It was Steve's personal Amazon account.

The little squares were books he bought, and other books, recommended by Amazon based on his previous purchases.

How To Please A Woman Organically- Twenty Five Secret Ways to Make a Woman Orgasm- If She Likes That, She'll love This- Make Her Notice The Real You- Goth Girls, What Makes Them Tick?- Everything But The Girl...

The list went on and on.

Her lips turned up slightly, and her stomach started to feel queasy in a good way.

"You think I'm a goth girl?" Asked Jules, trying not to smile.

Steve reached across the space of angry separation, closed the screen, and slid the computer from her lap. He placed it under his arm like a book and stood up.

The silence was broken as more high pitched laughter swirled through the air.

Antoine was jumping rope double-dutch with the Asian girl, and the two were tossing an orange back and forth while they maneuvered through the ropes. Their eye hand coordination and foot dexterity was pretty good.

Jules noticed Antoine was using the crook of his misshapen hand to catch and throw just as well as if he had a normal hand. When she looked up at Steve's face, she could tell he was thinking the exact same thing she was.

"How do we get past the fact that I misjudged your book?" Asked Jules.

"I don't know."

"Why didn't you just tell me about all of that stuff when I asked you?"

"You sounded condescending."

"I'm Goth, remember. What else is new?"

She pulled a pencil from her hair and poked him lightly with it behind the knee of his dockers.

He shrugged his shoulders, but refused to turn around and face her.

"At least I admitted that I'm not at all what I claimed to be in the sexual experimentation department, and that I've only slept with three people."

"That's one more than me."

"See! So now I'm the sick pervert. It keeps getting better."

"No. Now I'm your sacrificial choir boy."

Jules uncrossed her legs and put one of her clogs on his butt, pushing lightly until he turned around.

"You're milk and I'm cookies." She smiled up at him.

He grabbed her ankle and pulled the clog from her foot, tossing it into a nearby holly bush. The spot of red leather disappeared like a magic trick into the green foliage.

"Hey!" Laughed Jules.

" _I'm_ cookies." Said Steve, walking away, towards the group of kids jumping rope.

"Fine, _you're_ cookies! But I'm coming over later."

She hopped over to the holly bush on one clog and parted the thick growth of waxy leaves, staring down deep into the maze of twisted, chaotic branches and perfectly round berries.

Trying not to look as happy as she felt.

### 38

"Momma! Momma, where are you?"

Tiny stopped in the middle of their huge new living room. The sound of her voice echoed up and down each staircase.

"Momma!"

"I hear you baby! Stop shouting. You'll wake the dead."

Tiny heard her mom's house shoes making little shoosh sounds as she came up the stairs from the first floor.

"Where were you, Momma? I was worried."

"I'm down stairs in my laundry room, playing around with my new washer and dryer set... They look just like something from the Price-Is-Right! Did the magic man win them on a game-show? Ooh wee, it wouldn't surprise me in the least, he's so clever."

"He's pretty clever." Said Tiny.

"Did you know we have three floors now? Three! I counted them... And my new bedroom looks out over a courtyard with grass and trees. Can you believe that?"

"It's our courtyard, Momma. It's our backyard... And you can sit outside now whenever you want."

Tiny took her mom's hand and led her to a set of tall french doors, they opened up onto to a brick patio and into their small, but exquisite, backyard.

No one she knew in New York owned any piece of actual earth, except for small potted houseplants that did, or didn't, do well in the windowsill.

Tyrone was calling it her garden of hedonism.

Lo and Antoine spent the first Sunday afternoon in their new house together, outside, planting red and white geraniums around the sides of the ornate brick patio.

"Will they come back next year?" Asked Antoine.

"Nope. They're annuals. They'll die off." Said Lo. "We'll have to do this every spring."

"Promise!" Antoine said, excited, and Tiny felt a velvety sensation brush over her heart.

"I promise. It'll be mine and your spring tradition." Said Lo.

"Our spring-fling!"

"Our spring-fling."

Antoine found a large earthworm and placed it carefully into the palm of the first pair of garden gloves he ever owned. The leather was already filthy and broken-in as if he'd possessed them for years.

"Look Lo, it's a night crawler."

"More like a day lounger."

Antoine laughed, as Lo dug a little hole, and the two of them watched curiously as the worm wiggled it's way back into the dark, damp soil.

"He's off to make a sandwich and take a nap." Said Lo.

"Yeah! A dirt nap, get it?"

Tiny sat back in the comfortable chair from the overpriced patio set she'd picked out from a store in Soho, and acted like her eyes were welling from the spring pollen.

"It's comfortable, isn't it." Said Lo, glancing at her eyes and smiling down at her tube top as she reclined.

"For the price you paid, it better be."

Lo winked at her, and went back to pulling little plastic pots from the bottom of different herb starts he and Antoine picked out at the garden shop.

The last night in her apartment, the four of them had sat around the stacks of moving boxes, eating take out Chinese food and gearing up for their "big move" the next morning. Antoine tentatively asked Lo if he could plant an herb garden somewhere in a little patch of dirt, and Lo told him he could plant whatever he wanted in their backyard.

Their backyard, thought Tiny. The devil bought me and mine a backyard.

It felt like a jungle to a girl from the projects in Harlem. Like she might get lost amongst the 1000 square feet of leaves and grass and "annuals."

"Hey Mom! Do you wanna dig in something?" Asked Antoine. "We bought you a pair of gloves too."

Tiny looked at her freshly manicured nails, then at their faces. One young and black. One constant and white.

She sensed that putting her hands into the dirt, their dirt, was something deeply important; a ritual of communion, of belonging.

"Yeah I wanna dig in something!" She pulled herself up from the overpriced lounger and adjusted her stretchy tube top dramatically, like she was preparing for battle.

Antoine laughed, and Lo winked at her again.

He fished around in the reusable sack from the garden store, and pulled out a pair of canvas garden gloves. The white cotton material was printed all over with little bunches of cheerful daisies.

"Lo! They look just like my old wallpaper."

"They look just like your old wallpaper."

The image of those sweet little innocent flowers was burned into his brain for all of eternity, from when he wanted to put his fist through them after mistaking Cousin Tee-tee for the other man.

All of that embarrassment seemed like forever ago. Tiny slipped the gloves on her hands. They felt stiff, but fit perfectly.

"Now what?"

"Start digging, Mom!"

Antoine handed her a dirt encrusted garden spade, and she pointed to a spot by the end of the yard that still held a pie shaped slice of late afternoon sun.

"Can I put something there?"

"Sure. Of course. " Said Lo. He was busy framing a raised box on the grass for Antoine's herb garden. Tiny went and stood barefoot on the grass next to him while he was on his hands and knees.

"Can I put Momma's little orange tree over there?"

"It'll die in the winter."

"Can you rub on it, and bring it back to life come the spring?"

"Dead is dead." He was bent over pushing part of a railroad tie into a small trench and breathing hard.

"Can't blame me for checking." Said Tiny.

"Mom, it's like an annual." Said Antoine, and he stretched the word annual out. "It can't come back... Weren't you listening?" A lime green inch worm crawled around on the tip of his deformed finger.

"What about a lilac bush?"

"Better choice, honey, much better." Lo nudged her calf with his dirty elbow.

"Will it come back year after year?"

"Year after year."

Tiny suddenly wanted to drop to her knees and wrap her arms around Lo. Lay in their grass, and look up into the infinite square of sky, framed perfectly by the mile high privacy fence that surrounded theirs, and each of their neighbors', personal patch of heaven.

She was an annual, and he was a perennial.

Tiny crouched down and grabbed the back of his tee shirt, pulling on it until he looked over his shoulder at her.

"Come over here for a sec."

He stood up and brushed the dirt off his jeans and she led him to the back of the yard, where the slice of sun pie was getting smaller by the minute.

"Lay down, right there."

Lo gave her a you-so-crazy look.

"Do it, baby."

Lo sat down slowly on the grass in unsure quirky stages, and Tiny lay right next to him in one smooth fluid motion, and pulled him the rest of the way down.

She fanned her hair out to the sides of her head, until she could feel the sun warmed grass on her neck, stretching her legs out and splaying her toes against the planks of high-end redwood fencing.

"I love you, Lo. You're my lilac bush."

Lo looked over at her, turning his head on the soft grass. He could smell fresh sweet clover.

"I love you too, Clementine. You're my sweet clover."

"I hope you find me again someday."

"I will. I'll track you down like a bloodhound."

Tiny pulled off her left garden glove and held her hand up to the sky, catching the sunlight in the deeply cut facet of her ruby wedding ring.

"I want you to keep it when I'm dead, and use it as a signal."

"What do you mean?"

"If you think you found me, pressed out in another shape of plastic, pull out the damn ring and say absolutely nothing."

"Then what?"

"Hold it up to the sun, and ask the new me what I'm thinking."

"And what will you say?"

"I'll say I'm thinking about lilac and sweet clover. Spring time... Or dead little oranges."

"Really?"

"Yeah, maybe! It's worth a try."

"Wouldn't it be easier to look for the only hot black chick around that doesn't like R and B."

She giggled, and walked her feet up the side of the redwood planks, grabbing his garden-gloved hand with her garden-gloved hand and holding it against her chest.

They stared up into their perfectly framed piece of sky.

"The sun's going down. It makes all the blue look pink, almost violet." Said Tiny.

"Almost lilac." Said Lo.

"Don't forget."

"I won't forget you ever."

Tiny closed her eyes and breathed in the rich smell of earth.

When she opened them, Antoine was pulling off his gloves and laying down next to them.

"What are you guys looking at up there?" He asked.

"A lilac sky." Said Tiny.

"It looks like it goes on forever and ever and ever." Antoine motioned up to the sky and made big sweeping circles with his hands.

"It does." Said Lo, and he squeezed the little bunches of cheerful cotton daisies that rested on Tiny's spandex covered breast, encasing her hand.

### 39

"Mr. Bird, it's Lo... I was wondering if you would meet me for a drink?"

"Of course, sir. Where?"

"The hotel bar. Our hotel bar."

"Yes, yes. Of course. That will be fine, sir. Is 6:00 good for you?"

"It would be great. Thanks a lot, Russel."

"My pleasure, Lo. Good day, sir."

When Lo walked into the bar, Mr. Bird was already seated in a corner booth, their corner booth, sipping a bourbon and gazing out of the window.

Lo slid into the supple leather bench across from him, feeling like they had never left.

"Hello, Russell. How are you? Thank you for meeting me."

"Of course, Mr. Lo. It's my pleasure. You remember my telling you their selection of bourbon is superb."

"That's right. And bourbon was made for the evening."

"Bourbon is by design, sublime for the evening hour." He smiled at Lo, all lips and no teeth.

The waitress asked Lo his pleasure.

"The same as my friend here, and a bowl of soup."

"Oh, my." Said Mr. Bird.

"Just in case."

Lo had spent the day at another auction house, verifying jewelry. Large medallions worn by plague doctors in the early seventeenth century. As if their long waxed robes and cone shaped leather face masks weren't frightening enough to properly identify them as plague doctors.

Jack showed up at the session, wearing a thousand dollar suit and a pair of fake glasses.

Lo asked him what he was doing there.

"I thought I'd take you to lunch."

"All right... But I have about an hour of work left."

"That's fine. I'll wait over with Caroline."

Jack never waited for anything.

"What's going on with you?" Asked Lo.

"Nothing."

Lo told him to take off the glasses.

"Make me." Said Jack, smirking, and he turned and walked towards a row of chairs against the wall where Caroline was doing some paperwork. She gave Jack a discreet I-don't-like-you look, and he ignored it completely, sat down right next to her, and asked if she was still with her dickhead of a boyfriend.

Lo apologized to the staff for the interruption.

The director of the house said he was familiar with his attorney, and gave Lo an, I-don't-like-him-very-much-look, then went back to signing the verification forms.

Lo finished the session as quickly as he could, without bull-shitting small facts like he'd done in the past to hurry along the paperwork.

He glanced at Jack just once, but it was long enough for Jack to nod his head at the object in question, smirk, then glance towards the door.

"Here, sir. Here... And here again." Said the secretary, standing alongside the auction house's private attorney, as Lo signed off on the final set of documents.

Jack raised his hands to everyone in the room, in a gesture that said, you've-all-seen-enough-magic-for-one-day, then he practically wrestled Lo towards the doors.

Jack pushed, and Lo pulled, and the entire verification staff watched as they roughhoused through the doors and onto the street, deciding, collectively, that it must be standard operating procedure for the devil and his advocates.

"Jack you asshole, what the fuck!" Said Lo, and they stood on the sidewalk, adjusting their jackets and neck-ties.

"I know, I know! But I got big news, and I love to act like an asshole in front of bigger assholes and get you riled up."

"You couldn't have waited until _after_ I paid for the new suit you're wearing." Lo said sarcastically, while smoothing the back of his hair.

"I talked to Rita Jones!" Said Jack. "And I mean, I talked-talked to Rita Jones."

"Holy shit! How? Where did you..."

"Get ready to be real sorry about that new-suit jab."

"I'm fucking sorry! Now tell me Jack, seriously-- I'm getting pissed."

"Okay! Don't get bunchy panties. Start walking."

They jay-walked across the street, as cabs and cars honked and stopped short, the drivers yelling insults.

Lo forked his tongue and split his pupils at the line of windshields, and watched as irritated expressions turned to shock. Jack flipped the bird to the whole line up of cars taking full advantage of acceptance by association.

The closest pub was half of a block up, and by the time they reached the door, Jack had already described his cover and was well into the details of the woman herself and everything she'd told him about her family.

They remembered the neighborhood pub from way back when, and knew the food sucked, but today wasn't about the food.

"Wait a minute, I don't get it-- You said you were with the water company, and she told you all of this stuff... Why?"

"Lo, I need you to listen to me very carefully, because I'm only going to say this once-- What went on between me and this Rita woman was fucking crazy. Like buck naked, gin and cigarettes, electrical appliances crazy. So you don't need to 'get it,' all right? You just need to listen up, big guy."

Lo sat back and listened as Jack talked, explained, and told Rita stories verbatim.

Notes, side notes, and a couple of small diagrams were on computer paper that looked like it had been through the trenches.

After two hours of listening to Jack talk, Lo understood a lot.

Kenny was the product of bad seed and malevolent neglect. A haphazard generational loss.

Rita told Jack she never wanted any children because she sensed something deep inside of her, something smart in a way that she wasn't, told her not to.

She was the only one of her sisters that didn't get beaten up by their husband, and she attributes the fact to her husband's fear of her eyes. They reminded him of voodoo, and he would get the creepy-crawlies every time she stared at him.

Her great grandmother washed clothes and shucked oysters down on the docks in New Orleans, and was a full blown alcoholic.

The only reason Rita knew this was because her grandmother remembered going to work on the docks along side of her own mother when she was around seven years old. Her grandmother would sit on a wooden stool and shuck oysters, from sunup to sundown, to help pay for her mother's liquor.

Her mother sipped it, like others sipped coffee.

When her grandmother got a little older, her eyes were such a draw that it was easier to shuck men then oysters, so she went to work in a brothel.

"And by a little older, I mean twelve." Jack said, remembering the details and cringing.

Rita's own mother did the best she could, but she was a bastard born in a brothel, and barely had the sense-god-gave-a-goose, as Rita put it, when it came to raising children.

"I just try my best to stay out of the way of the storm that's in my blood." Rita told Jack. "And so far, so good."

Lo was completely blown away by the story.

"I don't know what to say, Jack."

"You can say thank you, big guy."

"Thank you-- You told me you would, and you did. I don't know how you did it... But you did."

"You know what's weird." Said Jack. "It was fun-- I actually had a lot fun with her, she was a trip... If she was twenty years younger, I'd be taking her to Switzerland."

Lo knew his friend was dead serious.

"If I wanted to meet her and ask her some more questions... Would you take me?"

"Sure-- But-- You'll need to be prepared." Jack said, hesitating.

"For what?" Asked Lo, sensing something strange in the air between them.

"Nudity, Lo. And housekeeping."

### 40

"I bet you think I'm short on friends." Said Lo.

"I think you're short a father." Said Mr. Bird, raising his eyebrows and taking a long, slow sip of his bourbon. "Why don't you tell me precisely what you came here to tell me Lo, and I'll tell you exactly what I'm thinking."

Lo told Mr. Bird everything Jack had told him.

About Rita Jones. And her grandmother and great grandmother that worked on the docks in New Orleans shucking oysters and men.

About Kenny. A splintered piece of fractured bone, leftover from so many generations of broken lives.

About the man he'd killed a hundred and fifty years before, for acting like a common fool. One bright green eye, and one a perfect milky blue.

And how so many people and so many different generations of lives had been altered by this one singular act.

Then he told Mr. Bird what he was really thinking.

That maybe, just sometimes, a rare or special few comeback. A do-over of some sort.

"Am I crazy?"

"You're not crazy." Said Mr. Bird. "You yourself are a rare and special few-- You just so happen to hold the one and only ticket to the entire run of the show. The rest of us catch the first performance if we're lucky. You're privy to the mishaps, the missed cues, and every single encore. I'd imagine seeing so many performances of the same show would be taxing on any man, to say the least."

"Taxing." Said Lo, and he remembered when Mary had called him the tax man.

That was exactly what he felt like. The proverbial tax man.

Consciously collecting all sorts of redundant information from people, day after day, and year after year; then later, unconsciously, using the information against someone that reminded him of someone else, someone he found unworthy of life.

Fucking their family at whim. Over something fine. Forever and ever and ever.

"That's what she said to me."

"That you were taxing?" Asked Mr. Bird.

"That I fucked her family forever. Over something fine. That's what the old black woman in New Orleans said to me on the street corner. The woman with the eyes, like the man I killed. Her name is Bessie, and she's the great granddaughter of the washer girl from the docks."

"Good god, my boy, I can only imagine your state. So many souls to keep track of. It must feel like you're spinning."

"It does."

"May I ask what it was? As worthless and degenerate as this man may have been, you don't seem the type to take such a matter so far as death-- Not for something trifle... I'd imagine it was something of great value emotionally."

"I killed him because he jumped on the back of a lovely black servant girl, spanked her ass, and called her a hot mule."

Mr. Birds eyes grew wide for a brief moment, then fell perfectly back into place. He downed the last bit of the bourbon in his glass.

"See." Said Mr. Bird. "It _was_ something of extraordinary value to you-- It was something fine. Very fine- emotionally."

"But look at how many people have suffered because of it."

Mr. Bird motioned to the waitress for another round.

"Have you ever considered the flip side of that coin? Of all the coins for that matter."

Lo looked at him. Really looked at him. Mr. Bird told him to eat his soup.

"If only we could see what became of the servant girl, or the countless others that suffered under the hands of such foolish men-- I'm well aware that I'm just a tired old chap, misty on good bourbon and full of bias, but as I see it, you're quelling the foolish, and culling a malicious heard. Rape is an unspeakable act, and physical abuse against a woman or child unfathomable. You're being emotional when you should be thinking logically. Stop being so hard on yourself... You're doing your best, and your best is something I'm proud of."

Lo swallowed the soup soaked cracker he was chewing, and a big, fat tear rolled down his cheek.

"Now, now sir." Said Mr. Bird, patting Lo's hand.

Lo blew his nose with his napkin.

"I feel like I'm playing God Russell, but I'm not god."

"Who says so? Where is this God everyone speaks of? I think you're just a little overwhelmed, my boy. Taking on a wife and a son, and the new verifications and such-- Green broke is what they call it in horse terms. Slightly skittish with the saddle. I can remember when I was a young man, dealing with a wife and child, and trying at the same time to make my way in the world.... It somehow seemed easier then, although I know in retrospect what lay behind speaks softer then what lay ahead."

"I've never even asked you about your life, Russel."

"My life was a good one, sir, but it's coming to a close. My wife and son were lovely creatures, but they're both gone now. Claimed by time, and a ridiculous war. I will however, share anything I've learned along the way, from the two of them, with you."

"I'm sorry, Russell."

"No need to be sorry, sir. It's the nature of the beast. Tempis fugit."

"Tempis fugit." Lo repeated aloud.

"I have a clock, a very old clock from my grandmother that I brought over with me when I first came to the states. It's what sparked my enthusiasm for antiques. It reads Tempis fugit right above the twelfth hour-- When I was a child, I found that statement incredibly profound." Said Mr. bird, leaning back against the booth and smiling at Lo, all teeth.

"What about now?" Asked Lo.

"Carpe diem Lo, Carpe diem."

### 41

"What does it say, Lo?" Lagusta asked, when she felt the writing that was carved into the stone of the massive sundial.

"Carpe Diem." Answered Lo.

"What does it mean?"

"It means to seize the day."

"Oh, how wonderful! I think we should stay here forever." Said Lagusta.

And they did stay.

In the remains of the crumbling ancient marble house, left over from the greatness of another.

When Lagusta died from a cancer deep in the breast, twenty three year later, Lo burned her body on the giant flat stones and watched as the flames rose high into air, licking at the stars in the moonless sky.

He packed the smooth onyx statue, her treasure, in an ox-hide and walked away from the house on his own two hooves, stopping at the pasture just long enough to free the small heard of Arabian horses he'd collected like beautiful toys. He snapped his tail like a whip, and watched as the herd ran like white paint across the hot sand, then down towards a fertile crescent of grass along the riverbed next to the neighboring land.

He stopped along the way at Subin's house, and turned over ownership of the horses.

Subin shook his head in disbelief and gratitude, like he always did when Lo would bring the man's figs to fruition, or rub the trunks of his olive trees, making sure his crop would be up to par, regardless of the drought.

"Breed the herd, Subin." Lo told him. "Be done with farming olives... It's not in the cards for your sons."

"But it's what my father did, Lo. And his father before."

"Breed the herd... Seize the day-- For your sons, and their sons."

Lo walked for days, until he found a place that seemed suitable to squander a hundred years or more. Then he would pack up the smooth onyx statue, and do it all over again, somewhere else. Each time he was a little more aware of the hours, and a little less aware of the human tragedies playing out around him.

By the time he met Samuel, he'd lived in three different countries and squandered five hundred years.

"How did you get here?" Samuel asked out of the blue, when they were teaching his son how to swim in the nearby river on a steaming summer day.

Lo pointed to the young boy splashing around with determination in the cool water.

Samuel's mouth dropped open in surprise, and then quickly filled up with laughter. He splashed the cool water at Lo, like Lo was pulling his leg.

Lo wasn't.

He swam for a month, maybe longer, eating fish raw from the salty water and letting the sea hold him like a great blue hammock. At night he counted the falling stars, unknowingly then, light years away.

When he did see land, it happened to be the shores of France. He paddled up to the sand, naked and melancholy, asking the first person he came across on the rocky beach where he was exactly.

The man, a fisherman, spoke a language Lo didn't yet speak, so he held the man gently by the throat and absorbed his native tongue.

When he released his soft grip, the man had looked scared, then puzzled, as Lo introduced himself politely, and asked where he might find a suitable suit of clothes.

The fishermen put his hands up to his throat and felt all around on the skin of his neck.

He then counted to ten out loud.

When the words came out crisp and clear and familiar, the fishermen closed his eyes and laughed a guttural, grateful laugh. Like he was surprised and elated by his own, deep voice.

"Bonjour, monsieur!" Said Lo. "I apologize for frightening you, but I'm new here and unfamiliar with the ways... I've been swimming a long time, as you can see."

"Oui. Oiu! I can see that!" Said the man, still laughing. "Let me be of some assistance in finding you a pair of pants, at the very least."

Lo could tell the fisherman was in shock, but none the less, the man walked Lo to a small fishing boat and produced an old pair of work britches.

"I have no money to pay you for these."

"I can see that!" The man said again.

Lo's tail wrapped around his leg in reflex, as he pulled the britches on.

The man's face was priceless.

"Can you point me towards the village?" Asked Lo.

The man motioned inland and south.

"Merci! Au revior." Said Lo, as he walked over the small rocks mixed with sand on steady hooves. He glanced over his shoulder just once, and the fisherman stood motionless, smiling, with his hand held frozen in a gesture of goodbye.

### 42

"Lo, can I ask you something?" Said Antoine, as he helped Elly coat four thick pork chops in bread crumbs.

"Of course."

"Will someday all of this be over?"

"What do mean?"

"All of the human race."

"I suppose so, yes."

The hot fat sizzled and popped as Elly dropped the pink chops into the iron skillet, one by one.

"Then what will you be doing?"

"Antoine!" Said Tiny.

Antoine looked at his mom like she was over reacting, then the intensity of the question sunk in, and he looked at Lo, like he wasn't sure what to say next.

"It's okay-- I think of that myself sometimes, too."

Tiny shook her head at Antoine, like he was too much to handle sometimes, then grinned at Lo and pulled four dinner plates from the cabinet.

"Maybe all of us need him more than he needs us!" Said Elly, watching the chops sputter and pop. "He don't need magic, we need the magic!"

Tiny looked at her mom, but didn't say a word.

"What do mean, Grandma?" Asked Antoine.

"This big ol' drink of water is here for us-- We ain't here for him.... I bet when the world and everything in it goes away, he'll go with us."

Lo felt his stomach flip because he'd thought the same thing, a million times before.

"Do you think that might happen?" Asked Antoine.

"Maybe." Said Lo.

"But immortal means forever."

"Forever's a long time."

"Too long, if you ask me!" Said Elly.

"Where do _you_ think he'll go, Momma?" Asked Tiny.

"Someplace nice... Someplace where popular opinion don't mean a damn thing."

"Kinda like here in your kitchen, huh Grandma?" Said Antoine.

Elly threw her head back and laughed.

Later that night, upstairs in their bedroom, Tiny and Lo made love.

It was the kind of sex that didn't require much effort or make much noise, but was completely satisfying.

When she came, she was on top, and the firelight illuminated the room just enough for Lo to catch the subtle details in her body movements and facial expressions, forcing him to leave the rest to trust and experience.

He rubbed the top of her thighs when she was done.

"How do you want to do it?" She asked.

"I'm not sure, just lay next to me and rub on my tail."

"Really? You don't wanna cum?"

"Maybe later."

"Are you sad about what Antoine said?"

"I'm not sad. But I do think about it sometimes."

"Me too."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Of course I do."

They watched the firelight dance around the room, making abstract shadow puppets on the wall.

"Sometimes I think if people stopped believing, and I mean really stopped believing, that I would just disappear. Peoples' perception and myths about things change to suit their needs... And look at all the superstitions that have just- disappeared."

"Like the fountain of youth."

"Like the fountain of youth."

"But you're flesh and blood. You exist. People know you, and see you. I fuck you-- You're not a siren on a rock that some sailor thinks he saw."

Her reasoning never ceased to make him question his own thinking.

"I bet that's what happened to god."

"But people still believe in all that... More than ever."

"So they say-- I'll agree they like the idea, I mean who wouldn't? But deep down they know better. They know the white wings and pearly gates are bullshit. Deep down, and I mean on an innate level, everyone knows they're on their own."

"So how come you're still walking the streets?" Asked Tiny.

"Fear doesn't waver. Fear's deep down. Unlike faith, it's woven into the fabric."

"On an innate level."

"On an innate level."

"So you won't be disappearing anytime soon?" Tiny giggled, and snuggled up next to him under the covers.

"That's my theory."

"Good! Cause we'd miss you a whole lot."

### 43

Lo was sitting on Madame Baileys velvet duvet, sipping sherry and eating Christmas toffee while their maid dusted the bookshelves.

"May I ask a question, sir?" The maid asked Lo.

"Of course."

"It's a might bit personnel."

"Go ahead."

"Simple parlor tricks and such... That's all you got up that sleeve?"

"I can kill a man." Said lo.

"So can I." Said the maid.

Lo cleared his throat, as the maid glanced out the doorway and listened for the telltale signs of her employer.

"Surely sir, you can do more."

"I can. But the conditions have to be just so, and that rarely, if ever, happens."

"What conditions are you talking?"

"Bloodlines-- Family matters and such."

"I guess it keeps you from running rough shod over all of nature."

"I suppose."

The familiar click of heels and the rustle of a satin petticoat filled the hallway, and the maid turned back to the enormous bookshelves, cutting their conversation off clean.

When Madame Bailey walked in, she stopped dead in the middle of the room and demanded to know what the two of them had been talking about.

"Nothing ma'am." Said the maid seriously, then the girl began to giggle.

Lo wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Nonsense!" Said Mrs. Bailey, and she began to giggle herself. "I can tell by the very look on our guests face, that you have been putting him through the grinder... She does it to all of us, Mr. Lo. Asking us the most preposterous questions, I tell you! I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if she's gathering up all of the information to use in one of her stories-- Our Rosy writes, you know Mr. Lo, and very well, if I may say so. She lets me read certain scad bits and pieces from time to time, and it is shocking to say the least. I have to loosen my corset after reading such scandal!"

The maid burst out laughing, and Madame Bailey laughed along with her.

"You'll have to excuse my household, Mr. Lo-- We're far from the picture of proper convention, as you may have heard... I'm afraid that ship sailed long ago, and my entire family, including our servants, missed it by a very long, very poor shot!"

More giggles erupted from the bookshelves.

"Good heavens!" Said Mrs. Bailey. "Has no one offered you a whiskey?"

"I did ma'am. He said he didn't want one."

"Then I shall have his." Said Mrs. Bailey, trying not to giggle. "It's how my dear husband made our fortune you know... New money they call us-- But it's the money that counts once the name is soiled, and the name just always, somehow, manages to get soiled. As I'm sure you well know, Mr. Lo."

She walked to the tray of small cordial glasses and poured three shots, handing one to the maid, and bringing the other two along with her to the velvet duvet.

Passing one off to Lo, she raised her glass and said, "To missed ships."

The maid raised the tiny cordial glass to the toast, sipped the whiskey, and continued to dust the room.

Lo and Madame Bailey touched glass, and downed their whiskeys.

"Well done, Mr. Lo, well done! Now be a darling boy and tell me what has brought you to my very ostentatious parlor."

"I've come to ask for your assistance."

"Did you hear that, Rosy? This handsome devil of a man is in need of my assistance. What do you think my dear, should we assist?"

"He is tall, ma'am." Said the maid. "And his teeth are bloody perfect! Why I've never seen nothing like them in all my life."

"That he is, and that they are." Said Mrs. Bailey. The two women smiled in conspiracy, as they unabashedly sized him up.

Lo shifted on the velvet.

"Starting to feel like a thoroughbred in the cross-ties, are you Mr. Lo?"

"Something like that." Said Lo, and he smiled wide.

She reached across the settee and squeezed his knee.

"You just tell me what you need, and I'll assist you in any way that I can."

"I need you to be the hostess of my party... A very elite party I'm throwing to raise a considerable amount of money-- Money to build a clinic for sick whores and their bastard children."

The maid's mouth dropped open.

Madame Bailey inhaled and exhaled dramatically, and she patted the sides of her extravagant hairdo with her jeweled covered hands.

"Rosy! Send a message right away, to my dear dressmaker Miss Clifton... A party of this nature requires a new evening gown-- I'm envisioning a decedent scarlet red, with a tight, proper bodice. What are your thoughts, Mr. Lo?"

"I think Mr. Bailey is a very fortunate man."

"Indeed he is!" Laughed Mrs. Bailey, and she touched her decolletage. "A very. Fortunate. Man."

### 44

"I can't believe we're actually going for a jog." Said Jack, and he stretched his arms over his head a couple of times, then bent forward at his torso.

"I think it's more like walking fast."

"Don't say we're power walking Lo, or I swear, I'm out."

"Who gives a shit what it is? It's good for your heart."

"Do you know something you're not telling me?" Asked Jack, and his eyes looked like two fried eggs.

"No!"

"Would you tell me if you did?"

"Of course." Said Lo, knowing that's the last thing he would lay on someone he really cared about.

They huffed and puffed awkwardly down the sidewalk, as other people ran by looking fit and comfortable and completely ahead of the game.

"So are you loving the new house?"

"I'm loving it."

"Does she know you have houses in France and Spain?"

"Not yet, but she will-- I'm going to show them the world."

Jack started to look winded, and Lo asked him if he wanted to sit down.

"Okay, but just for a minute... I don't want any of these assholes with jet-packs strapped to their asses thinking they've got anything on us."

The air smelled heavy with fertile earth, and the trees were full-on and green with leaves. When the warm breeze blew you could hear them brush softly against each other like familiar bedfellows, tossing and turning in the sun's warmth.

It was obvious summer was just around the corner.

A bumble bee landed on his bicep, and Lo sensed the tiny insect's complicated intelligence, like a differential equation he didn't understand. It's translucent wings vibrated wildly as it tasted Lo's sweat, then flew away happily replenished and wiser to the nature of the beast.

"What are you thinking?" Asked jack.

"I'm thinking about how many things in nature I'll never understand."

"I don't get that." Said Jack. "It seems like infinite knowledge should come standard with infinite time."

"It should, shouldn't it..."

"You got dicked, big guy."

Two men in marathon attire ran down the path in front of the bench, and Jack waited for them to pass before sticking his leg out and acting like he was going to trip one.

"Did you see that guys quads? I've never had muscles like that, ever! Even in my twenties."

"Nature dicked us both, Jack."

"It did! Is there anything we can do about it?"

"There's absolutely nothing we can do about it."

"So all the blue eye, green eye stuff... All of that's in the past?"

"There's nothing I can do about it-- I can't undo what I did... But I can stop myself from being part of the equation."

"So Kenny will live on."

"Kenny will live on."

"I'm proud of you."

"Really?"

"Sort of-- If I could walk around and fuck with evil doers, free of repercussion... I gotta tell you, I don't think I could resist."

"But you have to draw the line somewhere."

"Yeah, of course... I'd draw it at my front door." Said Jack, and he stood up and bent down at the waist, overstretching his hamstrings. He rubbed the back of his legs and suggested they get going.

"Meet me back at my house after you get ready... Then we'll go eat somewhere healthy."

"Should I carry you home?" Said Lo, trying not to laugh.

"Keep it up--" Said Jack. "Someday you'll look back on this very moment, and it won't be so funny."

"It'll still be funny." Lo laughed, then sighed, as the sun disappeared behind a cloud that looked heavy with summer rain. "But in a completely different way."

The auction had already started when they arrived, and the room was half full.

Jack nudged him with an discreet elbow and raised his eyebrows at the turnout. Lo knew immediately that the gesture suggested the poorer the turnout, the lower the bids.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as they slid along a line of chairs in the middle towards two empty seats, and even within the tightly regulated, temperature controlled environment, Lo could smell the humidity coming. Like it or not.

Jack flipped through the auction's master list and when he found the little stool, he pointed at the current item number on the screen, then down at his watch.

Lo estimated they had twenty minutes to kill before the stool went up for bid, and Jack rolled his eyes like it was an eternity, and said he was off to work the room, and put out some feelers.

"Don't walk around pissing people off." Lo whispered.

"Who's pissing people off? I can barely move. I'm serious Lo, I need some fucking vicodin." Jack put his hand on Lo's shoulder, reminding him he knew today was important, and Lo watched as he walked stiffly to the isle, shook hands briefly with another attorney, then disappeared towards the back of the room, presumably in the search of a lovely lady with some heavy-duty pain killers in her purse.

Lo sat watching the crowd and enjoying all of the different emotions on their faces.

The smell of excitement and anticipation, mixed with your basic I-cant-believe-it-got-away, hung in the air, as individual paddles were raised in the hopes of glory, then irritatingly lowered in defeat of another person's triumph. Every now and then he sensed sheer relief.

He tried to call the winning bids in his head, just for fun.

When Jack came back, he was holding a snickers candy bar and a fancy business card.

"Where did you get that?" Asked Lo.

"Some cute brunette lady from accounting gave it to me."

"I meant the candy bar."

"So did I!"

Lo shook his head, and asked for half.

Jack tore the card in half and handed it to him, grinning.

Lo shot him a look, and Jack broke the candy bar in half and called him a Sally.

The screen flashed the stools item number, and Lo glanced around at the crowd's faces as the little wooden stool was placed neatly on the auction stand.

The auctioneer stated the basic facts- Circa 1750-1850, new world English, lineage and original ownership known, but, unverified.

Unverified, thought Lo, and the impact rattled his nerve.

Lo sat wondering if he'd made the right choice.

Was it right for all of the unknown, unseen, unverified significance to go down with the ship?

Should he testify to the stool's epic journey and change everything?

The unbelievably heart-wrenching dramatic story of the little wooden stool was true, and valid, and honest, and it could quite possibly surface like a phoenix from the ashes, and teach lessons, inspire art, or maybe, just somehow, make some little things change, or make a few people different.

"What the fuck?" Whispered Jack. "Raise your paddle."

Lo raised the paddle unaware of what the price was.

A woman two rows ahead raised her paddle.

Lo raised his paddle three more times in a anticlimactic volley with the woman, and the auctioneer said, "Going once, going twice, and sold to our good friend Mr. Lo."

Lo watched as the little stool was carried off the staging mount and back into the holding area.

The woman Lo outbid pleasantly picked up her purse and a weathered leather notebook, and walked causally towards the viewing room, leafing through a brochure on the houses upcoming auctions. Lo followed her into the room, and introduced himself.

"Hello. My name's Lo."

"Hi. I'm Miriam Davis."

He stood for a couple of seconds, hoping the woman would fill in the awkward silence, but she didn't.

"Can I ask you why you wanted the stool?" Asked Lo.

"Which one?"

"The one you just lost to my bid."

"Ah, _that_ little wooden stool." She sounded condescending in a playful way, and opened up her battered leather notebook, handing it to Lo, along with a cheaply printed business card.

Three sketches of similar stools resembling Lo's little stool were arranged neatly in the pockets.

He looked closely at the drawings of each; exact in size, but varying significantly in shape and design.

"I've somehow managed to win all of them at fair prices. Today I blame my misfortune on the late Spring thunderstorms... I'm an artist, and I design chairs. I own Davis Concepts, although you've probably never heard of it, because I'm a one-man show."

Lo handed the notebook back to the woman.

"I try to collect things I can afford, and use them in my studio for inspiration... I saw this one, and thought it would make the perfect fourth to my odd little threesome."

"It would." Said Lo.

Thunder cracked overhead, and the woman's head dipped and her shoulders flinched.

"It must be something in the air." Miriam laughed. "I'm surprised I went as high as I did, considering it doesn't have a maker's mark or any verifications."

"What were you going to do with it?" Asked Lo.

"I run a volunteer program out of my studio that teaches underprivileged children how to sketch, and I use the stools as models because they're not very difficult to draw, but they have great history, and shape, and the kids get to touch and feel something special, and be true artists, even if it's just for a couple hours a week. My stools are kind of like a long term investment that I get to utilize now... For good things."

"I like that." Said Lo, and he paused for a moment to think of the brand new adventures that might have lay ahead for the little wooden stool, if he'd never raised his paddle.

"I'm signing the ownership of the stool over to you, as a gift, and I'd like to make a monetary donation to your program." Said Lo.

"What! The stool! It's not really a charity. You wouldn't get a tax deduction for anything. Everything comes out of my own pocket-- Kids show up and we make a mess, and have a lot of fun... But that's it."

"That's enough, from where I'm standing."

Her eyes looked uneasy, like she was afraid of insulting the wrong person in the complicated pecking order of the art world.

"Do you know who I am?" Asked Lo.

"No. Should I?"

"You should know I don't give a shit about deductions."

He stuck the cheaply made business card on the end of his tongue, and they both watched as it was quickly consumed by bright orange flames, then fell to the floor in jagged black flakes.

"Now I know!" Said Miriam, pleasantly shocked. "You look so different than you looked a few years ago, when I regularly indulged my weakness for the society section."

"I'm happy now." Said Lo.

"Good." She said, handing him another business card. "Then I'll happily take the stool, and I'd be grateful for any donation."

### 45

Lightning flashed as Lo ran up the front steps to his house.

Classic, thought Lo, when he stuck the key in the lock and noticed the deadbolt was sticking.

A million dollars and some change still can't keep a simple mechanism from malfunctioning in humidity.

When he walked in, he smelled the delicious aroma of something spicy as their new German Shepherd puppy came tearing around the corner from the living room with one of Antoine's gym socks in it's mouth. He stopped at Lo's shoes and dropped the sock as an offering, then sniffed Lo's satchel before running like a black and tan fuzzy ball of energy towards the heavenly aroma coming from the kitchen.

"Hi, Lo! Where did Timber go?" Asked Antoine, as he came around the same corner wearing one gym sock and a big smile on his face.

"He's in the kitchen with your grandma's cooking." Said Lo. "Have you been showing him the dog door on a regular basis?"

"Yes." Said Antoine. "Sometimes I crawl through it first, then pull him through, so he knows it's a fun thing to do."

"That's thoughtful." Said Lo.

"I think so." Said Antoine, seriously, and he bent down to pick up the dog-spit covered gym sock at Lo's foot.

"Where's Mom?"

"On her way home from work."

Lo had stopped trying to convince Tiny that she didn't have to work at the salon the minute he saw her, by chance, in their new car, doing laps around the block, and singing out loud along to the stereo. He suspected she did hair for the same reason she did laps; to savor the smallest bit of some personal time.

After a few weeks in their new neighborhood, he'd noticed her work schedule was more part-time anyway.

Once, when Antoine asked her what she was doing home so early from work, her face looked flustered, and she blurted out, "I need to be here-- To raise the dog up right!"

Antoine had given her a you-so-crazy look, and Lo casually changed the subject by asking Antoine what was on the agenda for summer break.

"Digging in the garden with Grandma.... And exploring the new neighborhood with Timber."

"I think you should dig in the garden with Timber, and explore with Grandma." Said Lo.

"Good one!" Said Antoine, and he'd adjusted his glasses, thinking about the statement on a deeper level. Lo had watched him, from the corner of his eye, amused.

He hung his satchel on the tree butler in the foyer, and walked into the kitchen to see what Elly was making for dinner.

The puppy lay at her feet, chewing softy on the tip of one of her house shoes.

"Smells good." Said Lo.

"It's my spicy-hot conquistador chili!" Said Elly, and she gently handed the puppy a tiny piece of a cornbread muffin, before throwing the rest of it overhand to Lo. Lo caught it with one hand, and she giggled and called him special.

"Do you want a bowl now, or do you want to wait for my baby girl?"

"I'll wait for your baby girl." Said Lo, pulling out a chair from their huge new kitchen table and sitting down, effortlessly enjoying every moment of the salad days.

"I need one now please, Grandma! I have trumpet lessons in thirty minutes flat!" Said Antoine, as he slid into the kitchen wearing a fresh, stark white pair of gym socks.

Elly scooped a heaping ladle of the chili into a bowl, and placed a crusty cornbread muffin on the top, then handed it to Antoine and pointed to the kitchen table.

Lo watched as the kid cut the crumbly yellow muffin into the chili with his knife, then blew on a big steaming spoonful.

"What are you guys going to do when I'm gone, Lo?" Asked Antoine.

"Miss you terribly-- I might go on a crying jag."

The kid grinned and shook his head, like he got Lo's humor completely.

"I'm gonna make us some more cornbread, in case it snows tonight!" Said Elly.

Lo and Antoine looked at each other, and spent a good minute trying not to giggle.

Lo heard the gate in the alley, and the car's engine turn off.

"Mom's home." Said Lo.

"You have dog ears, too!" Said Antoine. "Look at Timber."

The puppies oversized ears were perked up on his head, and he looked towards the back staircase in expectation of his new mom. When he heard the back door open, he ran like a shot, stumbling down the stairway to greet Tiny at the door.

Lo listened to her gush over the dog, then heard her heels tap lightly on the stairway, mixed with the sound of puppy toe nails as Timber raced up ahead of her.

"Hello, my boo crew!" Said Tiny, looking beautifully dewy from the humidity.

"Hi, baby!" Said Elly. "How was your day?"

"Good." Said Tiny, kissing Antoine on the top of his head, then leaning over Lo's shoulder and kissing him on lips, deep and quick, but full of a hidden meaning.

"I have to go, people." Said Antoine, gathering up some loose sheet music from the end of the long table.

"Then go, who needs you!" Said Tiny playfully, winking at Lo and kissing the dog on the nose.

"Walk there and back." Said Lo. "No goofing around, kiddo."

"I will." Said Antoine. "But come on you guys-- It's only two blocks away. And you have to admit, this neighborhood is pretty ridiculous."

Lo and Tiny looked at each other, and then burst into laughter.

"I know." Said Lo. "But you'll get used to it."

"I will." Said Antoine, again seriously, which made Tiny put her hand up to her mouth and laugh even harder.

"Bad things happen everywhere!" Said Elly. "So watch out!"

She went back to stirring her second batch of cornbread and humming Bye Bye Baby, like the words of foreboding never left her mouth.

The three of them looked at her, and the puppy barked, just once, filling in the odd silence.

"There and back." Said Lo. "And take an umbrella, I think a big rain's coming."

Antoine shuffled out of the kitchen in his sock feet, and down the hall, where he pulled on a pair of old red canvas tennis shoes and banged his new trumpet case accidentally on the door on his way out.

"Are you coming up baby?" Asked Tiny, as Lo was sitting in his office looking over a list of items in the next verification session.

The puppy was pulling on the bottom of her terry cloth robe.

"I'm right behind you, honey. I'm just getting these file drawers in order... Do you want me to let Timber out one last time?"

"Would you? It's windy and I'm trippin' on all the june-bugs. I don't like 'em, Lo. They stick to everything."

"They're attracted to the lights. Turn the lanterns off next time you go out there."

"Uh-- No way in hell! It's like a pitch black forest back there."

Lo watched as Tiny bent down to pry the terry cloth from the puppies mouth. She cuddled on it and smelled the scruff of its neck, saying something to Lo about how it smelled like warm popcorn. When Tiny was done she scooted the dog inside of Lo's office and shut the door, saying "night, night boos" to the both of them.

The puppy looked up at the doorknob, then play barked a couple of times like he couldn't believe Tiny had left him behind.

Lo patted his thigh and the puppy forgot all about Tiny and ran over to Lo's chair.

He picked the dog up and sat it on his lap, inhaling the popcorn scent from the scruff of it's fuzzy neck as it licked Lo's face and breathed hot puffs of puppy breath into his face. It smelled pure and loyal.

Lo clicked off the green bankers lamp and sat back in his chair with the puppy against his chest, watching from the window as flashes of lightning illuminated the age old brownstone fronts that lined the million dollar neighborhood. A neighborhood born beautiful, turned ugly, then, as if by some sort of an unstoppable steely protestant army, converted back into lovely with the ever expanding blight of new money with a cause.

Lo wondered how long before it would be a slum again. A couple hundred years at the least. Maybe an outbreak of some sort that levels the population, or a financial collapse of infrastructure. A war perhaps; something nuclear.

The puppy wiggled from his arms and scratched at the bottom of the door, then sniffed around on the ornate oriental rug.

"Oh, no you don't." Said Lo. "Outside, Timber. Let's go outside."

Lo repeated the word "outside" as he opened the door to his office and walked down the hall through the living room to the french doors. When he opened them, he noticed a few june-bugs buzzing around the outside lanterns that flanked the brick patio.

The puppy put his paws up on the glass screen door in anticipation, and the second Lo opened it up a crack, he shot out like a bullet into the darkness of the backyard.

Lo stepped out onto the brick patio and into the wind. The inevitable rain that had been brewing all day was finally starting to fall.

The puppy raced around his legs in a circle, and Lo repeated the word "outside" and told the dog to "go pee."

Lo split his pupils for light, and watched as the dog hiked his leg on Tiny's lilac bush in the very back of the yard.

"Good boy." Said Lo, as he dried the dog off with an old beach towel Tiny had laid on a bench by the doors. "You're a good boy, Timber." The puppy looked up at Lo with a for real smile on it's face.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as an odd sensation shot through Lo's brain.

It was odd enough to make him wince, and immediately put his hands to his head.

A dull thud pulsed through his temples and pulled tightly across his forehead.

"Holy shit." Lo said, looking down at the puppy sitting at his feet. "I think I have a head ache."

The dog looked up at Lo like he was trying to understand him.

Lo pushed the door open to Antoine's room just enough for the puppy to squeeze in and curl up on the big monogrammed "Timber B" dog pillow Tiny ordered special from the LL bean catalog. The thick blue corduroy fabric was printed with dog bones and the monogram was stitched in bright red along the side.

When he'd asked what the B stood for, she'd looked at him, insulted, and said, "Bailey, of course!" Then she went on to say how she clearly intended on using it as her married name, and if anyone had a problem with it, that it just was too damn bad for them.

"What does Antoine think?" Lo asked.

"What do you mean? He's already been using it!"

"Really?" Said Lo, pleasantly surprised.

Tiny walked to the kitchen counter and picked up Antoine's school laptop. On the top corner of the computer was a cellophane label attached to the plastic with his name in bold caps. Antoine had printed "Bailey" in neon purple sharpie ink after "Laurent."

"We're the Baileys, baby, so get used to it." Tiny said, tossing the dog pillow on the floor and smiling as the puppy sniffed it and pulled it around on the wood floor.

Lo couldn't help but think of how proud the original Mrs. Bailey would be of his life now.

He'd gone out and gotten everything that was waiting for him, just like she'd told him to do.

Antoine shifted slightly under his covers and said something softly to the puppy as Lo closed the bedroom door to a crack.

He walked quietly across the landing to his and Tiny's bedroom.

She was already asleep with her reading glasses on top of her head.

Lo undressed and slid between the sheets, reaching over carefully to pull the glasses from the top of her head.

She stretched and turned over, putting her feet up against Lo's thighs as the thunder rumbled closer overhead.

He laid there with one hand on her feet and one hand rubbing the excruciating pain in his forehead, listening to the rain on the roof and wondering for the first time in his existence if he might be dying after all.

### 46

In his dream that night he was back on the extravagant ship sailing away to America.

In reality, the entire Bailey family had come to wish him bon voyage, and when he'd gone to kiss Madame Bailey's hand, she'd kissed him on the lips and hugged him tightly, whispering into his ear to have many marvelous adventures and to go and get what was coming to him.

"Scout it out, my boy!" Said Mr. Bailey. "Let me know... England is so drab nowadays, and the Bailey name has always thrived on misadventures."

Mrs. Bailey laughed aloud with her husband, as their children looked at each other with excitement at the thought of traveling to the Americas.

The seas had been rough for the majority of the voyage, and regardless of the great size of the vessel, the first class passengers suffered right along with the lice infested rats in steerage.

A plate of pastel petit-four resembles a stew of boiled potatoes when your heaving it up and green in the face, regardless of the distinct separation by stairs and decks and mahogany paneled staterooms.

Lo had the ships dining rooms and decks to himself for the majority of the voyage.

He'd stand in his dinner attire on the different decks, along with a handful of other hearty souls.

The first class had pedigree with elite naval backgrounds.

The second had neither, just men with iron stomachs.

Steerage were lowly working seamen perfectly at home sleeping in the bowels, or standing bare foot on the tip of the mast.

They drank different liquors and smoked different tobaccos depending on the decks level, but all of the men told tall tales of riding bigger swells and facing stiffer winds.

But he was dreaming now, and the tales were different.

The sea was calm and the air was still.

Beautiful women of every color and creed imaginable strolled arm in arm in evening gowns along the decks of the magnificent ship.

When Lo passed through the door of the ship's formal dining room, he was greeted warmly by the maitre d' and shown to a large round table set perfectly with seven opulent place settings.

"Your party will be arriving shortly, sir." Said the maitre d'. "May I start you with a glass of champagne?"

"Please." Said Lo, as he reached into his dinner jacket, fished out his pocket watch and glanced down for the time. The hands on the intricate timepiece were gone.

When he looked up, the table was full of people from his past, talking and laughing and indulging in Lo's favorite delicacies from all over the world.

Madame Bailey and Lagusta flanked his sides, while Samuel, Mr. Bailey, Subin, and little Laura, now grown up into a fine young woman, filled in the rest of the chairs around the table.

Lagusta sat to his right wearing the ancient Egyptian necklace he'd held only weeks before in the New Orleans antique store. Mrs. Bailey chit-chatted across the table with her about the importance of showcasing ones decolletage with something bold and significant.

The men at the table laughed jovially as they sampled the fine cuisine and teased little Laura about the many prospects of suitable bachelors in the room. She giggled a proper ladies giggle, and sipped from her champagne glass.

The liquid in the glass looked to be black as midnight and swimming with stars.

Lo picked up his own glass carefully, completely mesmerized by what he saw.

It was as if he was staring into the cosmos. Every single star in the heavens sparkling brightly through the crystal.

"What's happening?" Lo asked, bluntly addressing the table. "Am I dead?"

His friends turned to look at him.

"Good heavens!" Said Mrs. Bailey. "Of course you're not dead, my dove!"

Lagusta held her napkin to her face and laughed. Lo noticed her eyes were healthy and clear and the color of a fawns spots.

"He's drank too much of the heavens!" Said Samuel, and Mr. Bailey and Subin agreed, like gentlemen tend to agree, as Samuel motioned for a waiter.

The waiter appeared magically at Lo's side carrying a covered silver tray.

Lo felt sure he recognized him.

It was like vast oceans of time had passed since he last saw the mans face; incessant sunrises and many, many moons.

"I know you." Said Lo. "How do I know you?"

The man smiled wide at Lo, but said nothing. His teeth were perfect.

He sat the silver tray in front of Lo, and dramatically uncovered the dish.

On the fine white china sat a raw chicken thigh.

"You must eat it all, my dear. Every last bit. You must devour it." Said Mrs. Bailey.

Lo looked around the table at all of their faces. They were full of love and understanding, and in complete agreement of what Madame Bailey was telling him.

"But it's raw." Said Lo, looking down at the singular chicken thigh presented with great care on a lavish bed of dandelion greens, along with a blob of black caviar and two intricately carved red radish rosettes.

"Eat it Lo." Said Samuel.

"For the good of your son." Said Subin.

"It's just like Alice in Wonderland!" Laura said, wide eyed and giggling. "Eat it-- And something curious and wonderful might happen!"

Lo tentatively went to pick up his knife and fork.

The waiter smiled down at him, and shook his head slightly in a subtle gesture that conveyed a breech in protocol. He laid his own hand gently on Lo's right hand, and motioned for Lo to pick up the chicken with his left.

Lo noticed the man's hand felt soft and warm. And lacked any trace of essence, good or bad.

"Pique-nique style." Said Mr. Bailey. "Isn't that what the country chaps are calling it nowadays... Feasting with wool blankets in the wild and whatnot."

Everyone at the table laughed an encouraging laugh as Lo picked up the raw chicken thigh and took a bite from the pale, rubbery flesh.

"Well done my boy!" Said Mr. Bailey, as the waiter silently circled the table refilling the crystal champagne glasses full of far away galaxies and twinkling stars.

Lo had almost finished devouring the meat by the time the waiter was again by his side.

His friends clapped a polite clap at Lo's unseemly accomplishment.

Lo glanced up at the waiter.

The waiter smiled at Lo as if he remembered something Lo didn't. His face was timelessly handsome and his teeth-- His teeth were flawless.

"Wake up little brother." Said the waiter, smiling smugly, as he slapped Lo hard across the face. "Wake up and remember who we are."

Thunder cracked over head as Lo lurched upright in bed, dripping with sweat and perfectly in tune with his surroundings.

His headache was gone.

In it's place was an innate overwhelming sense of true kinship and sibling rivalry.

He touched his cheek where the man had slapped him, and heard Tiny scream.

Both stung like a hornet.

### 47

"Let him go!" Shouted Tiny, and she pulled herself up from the floor, clutching her stomach.

Kenny was holding onto Antoine by his forearm, pulling him across the polished floor on the top landing towards the staircase. Antoine's white gym socks were without grip, and made it appear he was learning to ice skate.

"You got everything you need, bitch! Now you gonna give me some."

"Let him go, Kenny!"

Tiny had crossed the floor just enough to grab a hold of Antoine's ankle, and Kenny pulled them both across the floor.

When they got to the staircase, Antoine squirmed from Kenny's clutches just long enough to grab the top of the banister with his good hand and hold on to it with a death grip.

Kenny grabbed his deformed hand and twisted it at the wrist sharply.

Antoine screamed, and the puppy barked wildly.

"Hurts, don't it? You little gimp!" Said Kenny.

Tiny pulled herself forward across the floor and bit down hard, like an animal, on Kenny's ankle.

He let go of Antoine's wrist just long enough to grab a hand full of Tiny's hair, pulling her head up sharply.

"Look at me when I'm taking to you!"

Tiny looked up and a brilliant smile flashed across her face.

She pushed on his hips with both hands and pulled her neck into her chest tightly, just like a horse unwilling to be broke.

A hand full of jet black hair weave hung from Kenny's clutched hand as his balance teetered precariously between his prior choices and his future fate.

Antoine was still clutching the rail when he reached out with his foot and pushed on Kenny's knee. Kenny grabbed the kids ankle and the white cotton gym sock slid slowly and theatrically down his foot, until it rested softly in Kenny's tight fist.

A small piece of white cotton was all it took to throw him off balance.

The scale was tipped, and he tumbled down the stairs backwards, his body landing in a heap on the middle landing. One of his legs was twisted behind him and clearly broken.

Tiny screamed Lo's name.

Lo ran from the bedroom, and without any conscious effort, assessed every nuance of the scene. His mind swam at the horrific magnitude of the situation and a flurry of possible action. Every fiber of his being felt like it was being tempted to unleash itself, but before this could happen, his mind settled on what he recognized he must do.

He walked down the first two stairs, then jumped the rest of the way, landing like a cat next to Kenny's body.

"You broke my fucking leg, you stupid gimp!" Kenny screamed at Antoine.

Lo looked up at Tiny. Her face was surprisingly calm.

"Clementine. I need you to tell me the truth again, because believe me it makes a difference." Said Lo, looking up the staircase.

"Is this Antoine's father? His biological father?"

"Yes!"

"And Antoine was born from rape? Kenny raped you?"

She pulled Antoine into her tighter.

"Yes." Said Tiny, looking down at Antoine for his reaction. His face was calmly surprised.

Lo bent down and picked up Kenny's right hand, then looked up the stairs at Antoine's deformed hand, to check one last time.

"You better fix my leg mother fucker!" Said Kenny.

"Don't worry." Said Lo. "I'm going to fix everything."

The tip of his tail whipped through the air like a blade and severed Kenny's hand clean off at the wrist. Kenny screamed a continuous high pitched scream, like a woman, and his eyes rolled around in his head like marbles, before passing out cold.

Lo forked his tongue and stuck it blazing hot on the stump to cauterize Kenny's wound.

It popped and sizzled like a pan of hot grease, and Lo noticed a small pool of blood was already starting to stain the Brazilian hardwoods.

"Turn him around. I don't want him to see this." Said Lo, and he glanced up the stairway as Tiny turned Antoine's face into her chest. He resisted for a split second, then turned obediently into her breasts, and she cupped her hands over each of his ears.

"Close your eyes, honey." Lo said to Tiny.

"No." Said Tiny, and the word sailed down the stairs like an deft arrow.

Lo took the severed hand and ate it like one of Elly's pork chops.

Pulling the fingers off first, one at a time, and chewing on them just enough until the mass of five appendages became palpable enough to swallow.

After the fingers, what was left looked like a chicken thigh.

He tore it down the middle with his hands, right in between the second and third knuckle, then pulled chunks from each half with his teeth, and stood chewing and swallowing, alternating regularly between the two halves of flesh.

The taste of human flesh was always bad, but Kenny's essence was appalling.

Lo could sense every single thing he'd done with the hand as the dead tissue moved through his chest, and ninety eight percent of it was for shit.

Lo felt a light tap on his shoulder and he spun around with unnatural quickness, the tip of his tail leaving a deep, twelve inch scratch across the hardwood.

"I thought you might want a big ol' drink of water after all that." Said Elly. Her face was steady, and completely in the moment.

She'd been down in her laundry room sorting the dark clothes from the white clothes at 3:00 am.

Lo took the glass of water from her hand and drank it down.

She took the glass back, and glanced down at Kenny sprawled across the landing. Her face showed satisfaction as she turned to walk back down the stairs, her slippers making little shoosh sounds.

Lo walked up the staircase to Tiny and Antoine.

"Give me your hand, Antoine." Said Lo.

Antoine turned from his mothers breast wearily, and reached out to Lo with his good hand.

"Give me your other hand, honey."

"I'm scared, Lo." Said Antoine.

"Don't be."

Lo took hold of his deformed hand, gently at first, then tighter, until he could feel the bones start to fold in on themselves.

"Antoine, I love you, so I'm not going to lie to you." Said Lo. "This is going to hurt like hell, but it'll be so worth it."

Tiny's eyes flashed fearful, and she pulled back on Antoine's arm slightly.

"No, Mom! Don't! It'll be worth it. Lo said so."

Tiny looked at Lo.

"You two are just going to have to trust me."

"We trust you." Said Tiny and Antoine in unison, which made Tiny laugh just once and it sounded a little insane.

"Ready?" Asked Lo.

"Ready." Said Antoine.

Lo squeezed the kids hand until the deformed bones started to break, and the twisted, misshapen muscle and tendons gave way.

Antoine whimpered and squealed, and bit down on his bottom lip. Tiny grabbed his good hand and held onto it.

"Squeeze me baby, just squeeze me when it hurts."

Lo took Tiny's other hand into his.

A perfect triangle of fear, faith and the product of both, stood on the top landing of the million dollar house, a thousand miles away from the life either one of them had known six months before.

Once Lo began to feel the sensation he'd forgotten about entirely in theory, but was positive he'd recognize in practice, he loosened his grip and started to rub Antoine's damaged hand softly between his thumb and forefingers, like the trunk of Elly's little orange tree.

The deformed mass of newly broken tissue started to swell slightly, then slowly regain its shape.

Lo felt each of the five knuckle bones snap tightly back into place, as each singular finger bent and flexed and strained. Painstakingly trying to find its proper alignment with the help of something unnaturally persuasive.

When the hand finished rebuilding itself, Lo told him to splay his fingers.

Antoine did so immediately.

It looked perfect, but Lo pulled the newly shaped hand to his face, split his pupils, and counted the bones anyway.

"Look Mom, it matches! Lo fixed my hand up right! Can you believe it?" Said Antoine.

She touched his hand gently and carefully, the same way she'd touched the silver trumpet when she first saw it. Like it wasn't real.

"Awesome!" Said Antoine, and he karate chopped at something invisible in the air, then looked at his new hand real close, before forming it into a fist and punching his own stomach gently a couple of times.

An awkward smile was painted on Tiny's face as she watched her son.

"Are you okay, Tiny?" Asked Lo.

"Oh my god, Lo... Yeah... Are you okay?"

"I'm good." Said Lo.

"How did you do that?"

"I'm not sure-- But it's obviously something I've done before. Maybe a very long time ago and I just didn't remember until now. When I saw Kenny hurting Antoine. Maybe it's like riding a bike. You never really forget."

"It's a lot different from riding a bike."

"Not to me."

"What about him?" Tiny pointed down in a daze at Kenny.

"Fuck him."

Lo walked down the staircase and picked Kenny up off the landing like a limp rag doll. His head rolled around on his shoulders, and he mumbled the words mother and fucker, and bitch and dumb.

Elly opened the front door when she saw Lo coming down the staircase with Kenny in his arms.

"Is it time to take out the trash?" Asked Elly.

"It's time." Said Lo.

He walked out of the front door and down onto the sidewalk, shifting Kenny over his shoulder like a sack of manure to hide the bloody mess that covered both of their front sides.

A couple of men passed them along the way, and one of the guys made a joke about being drunk. The other caught sight of Kenny's blood covered stump, severed clean and charred black as it swung by Lo's side. He quickly turned away, whispering to his friend to shut the fuck up and walk.

Four blocks out of the neighborhood, Lo propped Kenny up against a parked car on the sidewalk.

Kenny mumbled more hateful words, before laying down on the cement and staring up into the night sky, his cauterized stub pulled in tightly to his chest like it was something of value.

"You did right by your son tonight, Kenny, and I won't forget your sacrifice." Said Lo, before turning and walking away, back towards his home and his family.

He stopped at one lone automatic sprinkler head that was watering a patch of front lawn the size of a postage stamp and washed the blood off of his face and hands, scrubbing fast and hard, the way that someone who knows the real nature of blood scrubs.

### 48

When he walked in the front door, Tiny was on her hands and knees scrubbing the landing with a bucket of hot water, a bottle of Murphy's oil soap, and an old scrub brush.

Elly was behind her with two old towels sopping up the pale pink water and handing the soaked towels off to Antoine; who was crouched down, furiously wringing the water out of the heavy towel and into another bucket. He looked thrilled to be practicing the dexterity of his new hand, even though the task at hand was psychologically twisted at best.

"What can I do to help?" Asked Lo.

"Nothing baby, we got this. You go and take a shower." Said Tiny.

Lo walked up the stairs and tiptoed around them on the landing.

"Look, Lo!" Said Antoine, and he wrung the newly pink towel out with all the force a ten year old kid could muster.

"Cool." Said Lo.

"I know, huh! I feel so strong! I'm going to lift something heavy in the garden tomorrow!"

Tiny told him to settle down and focus on wringing the neck of Mr. Terry Cloth.

Antoine laughed, and told her it was a good one, then took another soaked towel from his grandma's hand, and smiled an uncomprehending smile as the water ran pink into the bucket.

The first thing Lo did when he got to their bedroom was head straight for the bathroom and brush his teeth five times, before digging around in the medicine cabinet, pulling out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and gargling until his throat felt stripped of saliva.

He put the blood soaked sweat pants and t-shirt he was wearing into a garbage bag and tied it off tightly, throwing it into the corner to bury in the backyard, by the lilac bush.

Lo ran the water in the shower as hot as it would go, letting the streams force wash away any evidence of Kenny's person.

Somewhere, an emergency room doctor was fixing Kenny's broken leg, and trying their best to figure out what in the hell happened to his hand.

Good luck with that, thought Lo.

He picked up a bar of Tiny's special scented soap and her oddly shaped loofah and scrubbed every inch of his body just because it felt good.

"Can I come in?" Asked Tiny. The glass shower door was opened just a crack, and the enclosure was so steamy he hadn't seen her walk in.

"Sure."

She was already naked and her hair was loose. No shower cap or towel wrap, or the usual pins here and there. A good sized chunk of her jet black hair weave was gone.

"You're going to your wash your hair?"

"I'm going to wash everything."

She stepped inside, flinched at the hot temperature, and adjusted it just a little.

Lo stood back and turned on the other shower head.

"I forgot about that." Said Tiny, still looking a little bit shell shocked.

"I didn't." Said Lo.

She soaped up and scrubbed down, as Lo watched her.

When she was all rinsed off, she pulled Lo in to her and hugged him tight like the first night they met.

"Thank you-- For everything." She said, her voice was almost a shout, competing with the sound of two shower heads. He smiled, tipped an imaginary hat, then reached over and turned both of the faucets off.

Antoine ran in when they were drying off.

"Shouldn't you knock first, boo?" Said Tiny. Her hair was wrapped up in a towel, like a giant turban sitting on her head, and her voice sounded spent.

"Yes, I should Mom, I know, but this is important."

"What's important?" Asked Lo, pulling his tail through a towel.

"What should I tell people?"

Tiny and Lo looked at each other.

Antoine sat down on the tiled ledge of the jacuzzi bathtub and tried to break a thick bar of fancy soap in half.

"We've got the weekend to figure it out." Said Tiny, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "Now get, and go bug Grandma."

Antoine made some karate chops into the mirror's reflection, then ran through their bedroom and down both stairways, shouting something silly to Elly about wanting to tear up phone books.

"Let's take a vacation. A real family vacation... To France or Spain." Said Lo. "And when we get back, we'll tell people he had reconstructive surgery abroad."

"That might work." Said Tiny, wearily.

"It will work, you'll see. People only know what you tell them."

She undid the towel turban and her head was covered with jet black tightly curled ringlets.

"I love it." Said Lo. "Why don't you ever wear it like that?"

"I don't know." Said Tiny, shaking the shiny wet ringlets out of her eyes and looking at herself in the mirror. "I guess this way just seems kinda crazy to me, and I'm always just trying to blend."

Lo thought about the all the different conversations with different people over the years; some still here and some long gone. About all of the different ways, and things, and methods he's used to try and do just that.

He grabbed her and kissed her deep.

She kissed him back even deeper.

"Blending isn't in the cards for us Tiny. That ship has sailed." Said Lo.

"It sailed?" Asked Tiny.

"It sailed."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

Tiny ran his tail through her hand, then looked in the mirror again at her real hair, adjusting the curls to perfection.

"Good. Cause my bullshit weave was on it."

* * *

For information on other books in the Lo series: www.romandeehellwigi.com

Email the author at: rdh@romandeehellwigi.com

Visit the author's blog at: www.romandeehellwigi.com/blog
