Stacia Kane - Wrong Ways Down

Not a subject he could really talk on with her, though. Best he could do was keep asking her to come eat, and hope iffen he put food in front of her she would. Usually she did. Not as much as he’d like, but she did.

She grabbed a few fries. He relaxed a little.

“Yeah, well.” She swallowed, glanced around to see was anybody listening. “I wonder about it, too. Some of the stuff they’re selling isn’t technically unethical, but it’s right on the border.”

“Wonder if Slobag gots people there.” He’d meant it only to change the subject—to get back into the subject, actually, stead of sitting there sweating causen his imagination were revving so hard—but as he said it he really did wonder. The rape thing were still a sticking point for him, but the way Slobag were taking advantage of the whole thing …

“Slobag have a witch?” Chess asked. Real casual, but he wondered if there weren’t some tension in her voice, on her face as she sipped her Coke. Made sense, though. She weren’t dumb. She had to know that next time Bump needed magic she’d be up top on he go-to list.

“Not what I got,” he said. “Ain’t hearing any like that.”

“Well, that’s good, anyway. I’m sure you’d hear about it if it was happening.” She took a bite of her burger. Even better; fries weren’t enough, he ain’t thought. Needed she something more substantial. “So I was thinking, we could go take a look at that place. The Peace Factory. It’s in Cross Town.”

“Aye, thought on that,” he said. “Went over once afore, only ain’t can really do it more’n that myself, dig, causen—”

“They’ll recognize your car,” she finished. “You might as well hang up a big blinking sign over it that says ‘Terrible’s watching you.’”

Felt good to laugh. Felt good hearing that tone in her voice, that teasing one. Most dames didn’t joke with him, like they figured he ain’t had a sense of humor.

“Is that the idea? I mean, so people know you’re around?”

He shrugged. “Ain’t want em forgetting, aye?”

Again that look in her eyes, like she thought he was smart. He braced himself for her to say something on it again, for he neck to get warm again when she did. One day maybe he’d be better when she said that stuff, like able to handle it more. As it was he knew she could see it, just as clear as he could see them teeth-marks on her. Who was he? Had to be somebody she knew, causen it ain’t seemed like she’d have had time to pick up somebody new.

But she didn’t see em again, them she took home. He’d never seen her even talking to em again. Hell, he’d seen her deliberately move to the other end of the room to avoid em. So who?

What fucking difference it made? It weren’t him, and that were all that mattered.

He ain’t even knew for sure she’d left work at three-thirty like usual on Holy Day. She maybe just printed them pages for he right after the service ended, then left. It were New Year’s Eve, weren’t like a regular day. She coulda spent the whole afternoon finding somebody to celebrate with.

“We could take my car,” she said. “Drive by there tonight, maybe. I bet nobody will be there, we could look around. We could go after that fight ends.”

He hadn’t expected that one at all, and shoved some food into his mouth to give him a second to think. He wanted to say aye. Not just cause it was Chess, but—well, aye, cause it was Chess, but the thing was, working with her was fun. It was fun, having her there and talking to her on it, causen she had good ideas and she seemed to think his ideas were good, too. Talking to her made him feel smarter. He were pretty sure talking to her made him actually be smarter.

But … Fuck. He couldn’t. Well, he guessed he could, but seeing as how he was probably gonna be late picking Amy up, he weren’t certain leaving her early so he could go see Chess were such a great plan.

She musta seen it on his face. “What? Tonight’s no good?”

“Maybe … maybe day after be better, aye? Time to plan an all.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Not watching the fight alone?”

He shrugged. The shrug might as well have been him saying aye. He hated having to tell her about the other dames he spent time with. He weren’t sure why; they all knew about each other, Amy and Sela and Evie, and sometimes Vannie when she ain’t had a boyfriend. Ain’t bothered them. They even talked to each other—which he hated, but weren’t like he could do any about it.

But it felt different with Chess.

“So you’ll be busy all night, huh,” she said. Her slim fingers fiddled with the straw in her Coke, her eyes focused on it. She never looked at him when the dames he saw came up in chatter. He didn’t let himself wonder on why.

Then she gave a short cough, sounded kinda forced. “Well,” she said. “Cool. Have fun, you know?”

He nodded. Shit. He ain’t knew what to say, and he felt like an asshole. “Hey. This night’s right up for me, dig, I can—”

But she weren’t gonna let him finish that. He knew it as soon as he opened he mouth and she turned to check the clock on the wall. Twenty past seven. “What time are you picking her up? Amy, right? What time are you supposed to get her?”

Lie. He should lie. Say ten, or eleven. Anything to stop her saying what he knew she’d say after he answered.

But he also knew she could find out easy what time the fight started, and she’d know he weren’t gonna leave his place in the middle of it to get Amy. If he told her ten and she seen the fight started at nine, how would that look? “Eight.” Then, real fast, “Only I can be late, she already got that I—”

“No, no.” She were already slipping her coat back on, the cute one with them big buttons in the front. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t, I mean … ”

“Naw, naw, Chess, ain’t worry on—”

She grinned at him, a grin that ain’t quite reached her eyes. “Shame on you, letting her wait like that. Come on. I’m done eating, anyway.”

She ain’t even ate half her food. “Whyn’t you have a little more, aye, or take it—”

“I’ll get something later.” She’d finished fastening the buttons and started putting on she gloves. “Besides, you should be worrying about what Amy’s going to say, not about me.”

Her tone were teasing and light, but he saw shadows in her eyes and her smile ain’t looked strong like it had before. Fuck. She was upset now—she looked hurt now—and he saw it despite the way she were tryna smile and joke, despite the fact that he weren’t even certain she knew it herself. Was fairly certain she ain’t knew at all, actually, and that if he asked she’d be confused. And it was his fault.

“She already got that I might be late,” he said. Probably sounded a little desperate but shit, he didn’t feel right getting up and taking her home when she seemed unhappy. Seemed like he oughta stick with her for a while, try getting her cheered up again.

Or she’d just cheer herself up. Fuck. She were already digging in her bag; he heard the clasp on that heavy silver pillbox she carried snap open. “It’s fine,” she said. He caught a glimpse of her palm—two, or three? He couldn’t tell for certain—before she flipped the pills into her mouth and washed them down. “Come on. You don’t want to keep Amy waiting.”

HE SHOULDA CANCELLED after all.

He sat on the couch with Amy’s hand on he leg, tryna get into the fight, tryna have a couple beers and relax, but it ain’t felt right. He kept seeing the look on Chess’s face when she looked at the clock. Kept seeing that bite mark on her neck and wondering where it came from; it ate at him. Which was bullshit. Chess didn’t belong to him. She could fuck whoever she wanted to. And she did, and so what? Who the fuck didn’t?