Devil take me down, p.15
Devil Take Me Down, page 15
part #2 of Clementine Toledano Mystery Series
“Seriously? Not even when you’re cleaning the Cove in August? Y’all never took off your shirts?” she asked in disbelief.
“That's why the good lord invented A/C,” he winked.
“Figures that Joe would be the only exhibitionist in the bunch.” She reached behind her and pulled Derek Sharp’s business card from her back pocket.
“Son of Perdition, LLC,” she read. “What the hell does that even mean?”
“I’m gonna go with Satan,” he replied. “Twelve years of Catholic school can’t be wrong.”
She stitched her eyebrows together and said, “I would have thought he’d go with something more Archangel-y. Isn’t that his whole shtick? Angels and demons and whatnot?”
“I thought you went through a brooding teenage girl phase?” he asked. “Dark Harm’s all about temptation and ruin. At least they were when Angie was obsessed with them.”
“Honestly, I was never that big of a fan,” she admitted. “I don’t think I would have recognized him if he hadn’t been so…obvious about who he was.” She put the card back into her pocket and reclined her seat, closing her eyes until they pulled into the Cove.
They walked quickly across the dark parking lot and into the front door. Tom and JJ had already arrived and were messing around on the piano singing a silly song about their mutual admiration for marijuana to a simple four-bar blues. Tom looked over and winked before continuing to butcher the twelve-bar rhythm he was attempting to play.
JJ abandoned him, hopping off the stage to glide over to Q, tying up his long dreadlocks as he did. He wrapped Q in a large bear hug, picking her off her feet and just held her there. Q sank into his soft warmth, fighting the tears that welled just beneath the surface.
“It’ll be alright Ms. Q. We’ll all be dancing at your wedding in a few months,” he said gently.
JJ had been one of those sweet children who always wanted to hold your hand. He was ten years hold when Q had first met him. They had sat at a piano bench at Camilla’s sister’s house and he’d played her a Schumann etude that he’d figured out by ear. After she’d taught him the parts he had wrong, he’d kissed her on the cheek and said, “One day, I’m gonna be as good as you.”
“No, baby,” she’d corrected, “You’re already better.”
At nineteen, JJ was still not willing to step into the spotlight. He was a child prodigy that could play just about any instrument placed before him, but at age eleven, he’d found his one true love: the bass. Q had once asked him why, seeing as how he’d rejected her own true love, the piano. He’d told her that he loved the way the bass rhythms and melodies harmonized with the drum transients and resonating tones; explaining that it must be like what God feels when people are doing right by each other. And just like JJ knew when to groove and when to lay back, he knew when someone was hurting.
Q smiled back at him and nodded before saying boisterously, “Of course you will… and will you quit with the ‘Ms. Q’, you’re making me feel like an old woman.”
“That’s because you are an old woman, Q,” Charlie called from behind them as he walked through the door with a cigarette in his mouth and his arm around one of the new burlesque dancers.
“Takes one, to know one, Charlie,” she said, sticking out her tongue. She patted JJ gratefully on his shoulder and walked over to where Josh was waving to her by the bar, leaving Ben to accept hearty handshakes and at least one “you must be nuttier than she is to marry her” from Charlie.
“May I be the first to buy the future Mrs. Bordelon a drink?” Josh slurred slightly, putting his arm around her waist. A week ago, Q wouldn’t have thought anything about it; Josh tended to get a little affectionate when he had a couple of drinks in him. But tonight, the weight of his arm made her vaguely nauseous, not knowing if he was the cause of their current situation.
“Listen,” he said, “Is Ben alright? What was up with him not coming to work the other day and then again tonight?”
Don’t act weird, Q.
“Oh that? It was nothing. He woke up with a stomach bug. Kept saying he had to go to work and he’d be alright. You know Ben, he’d rather vomit in the trash can in his office, than admit he’s sick,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Josh stuck out his tongue in disgust. “Good lookin’ out. Thanks for sparing us all that. The last time he pulled that shit, everyone ended up getting sick and Beth came down with bronchitis.”
Her name hung in the air and Josh looked like he wanted to swallow it back. He quickly recovered and yelled at Joe, “Get the bride-to-be a real drink.” He turned back to Q, “Chopin martini, up?”
Q nodded and he relayed it to Joe.
“So what was up tonight?” Josh asked. “Ben wouldn’t say anything except that he wanted to make this a big surprise for you.”
She moved closer to him and whispered, “I auditioned for Derek Sharp tonight. The whole Burlesque did, really. He hired JJ and Charlie for the Rebel Angels and me to front it. You’re looking at this year’s Archangel.”
Josh looked her up and down before saying, “I’d have figured you for the other side. Straight up angel, no righteous vengeance, just singing and harps.”
He jostled her against him to let her know that he was teasing. Ben approached them and Josh left Q to greet him with a bear hug and a kiss on each cheek. Ben blushed and Nadine presented him with a very tall glass, filled to the brim with Macallan. Ben looked helplessly at Q as Nadine and several of her friends cornered him by the pool tables with Josh egging them on.
Q found an empty barstool and sat down to watch Ben get bullied into a game of pool. As she slowly sipped her drink, a tall, lean man with sandy blonde hair, and one of the largest Adam’s apples Q had ever seen, approached her and took her hand in his.
“Ethan, how dare you leave Ben in payroll tax hell,” she teased.
“You have no idea how sorry I am,” he responded. Ethan was from one of those small towns in Northern Georgia that produces a slightly effeminate lisp in both genders, but his rich baritone pulled it off in an attractively masculine manner. “I’ve got a new client who’s takin’ up all my time.”
Q leaned back. “So you ditch your very first client? Success doesn’t suit you, Ethan Nichols,” she pouted.
“Don’t say that until you see it up close and personal,” he grinned. “Besides, you of all people should be grateful that I did take him on. He called me earlier. Said you were everything I described and more. He’s quite taken with you. Nicely done, my friend.”
“Derek Sharp is your new client?” she asked, shocked.
“Yes, baby, him and his whole company. I’m doing the accounting for Son of Perdition, LLC.” He sipped his whiskey before continuing, “Anyway, about two months ago, Derek asks me if I knew of any female singers who were worth a shit - his words, not mine - and I told him about you. So, what did you do to impress him?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Well, not nothing. Charlie and I worked out some arrangements for an old Dark Harm tune, and few old industrial songs from the late nineties, and we added them to our set tonight. The sound guy for the Ball tipped me off that I was on some list to front that band of his. I thought it might be fun to be an angel for a night or two. And it worked out. He wants me to sing for his little haunted house.”
Ethan tisked. “’Little haunted house,’ my ass. You can play coy if you want, but you’re not fooling me.”
Q reddened and paused, trying to think of a way to bring up Ben. “Honestly, Ethan, with the engagement and now all the wedding plans, playing Derek Sharp’s little show isn’t as exciting as you’d think. It’s actually kind of inconvenient. We wanted to get married on Valentine’s Day. Don’t think that will happen.”
He cleared his throat in disgust, “That’s a little cliché, don’t you think?”
Before Q could answer, Ben extricated himself from the group of women hustling him at pool, exclaiming, “Ladies, I apologize, but this playground is officially shut down.”
He stumbled to Q and grabbed her ass affectionately, slurring, “Except for you, of course.”
She grinned into his dopey-eyed smile. “Benjamin James Bordelon Jr., I do believe you are drunk.”
“As a skunk,” he finished, grinning. He looked at Ethan and swayed slightly. “You quit, you motherfucker. I hate doing taxes.”
Ethan sipped his drink in mild amusement. “Those ladies are going to get you in trouble, Ben. Watch yourself.”
Ben pulled Q to him and kissed her slowly enough to make her head swim. She momentarily forgot where they were and why they were there. After they’d kissed an inappropriate amount of time to have drawn the attention of an uncomfortable audience, Ben pulled back and shouted at the ceiling, “Goddamn, I love this woman!” before rejoining the applauding women around the pool table.
Q’s head swam with arousal and she sipped her drink, trying to calm her heart rate, staring at Ben as he laughed with Nadine and her friends.
Ethan called her back to reality, saying, “Kind of out of character, him kissing you like that. He’s usually a little more judicious about public displays of affection with his women.”
She winked and leaned in. “What can I say? I must bring out his inner caveman.”
“Well, that’s for certain,” he winked back. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so tore up over a woman as he was with you. Not even with his first fiancé,” he said, nonchalantly.
In Ben’s inner circle of friends, it was generally considered to be bad form to bring up Angela, especially around Q. The fact that Ethan had just broken this unspoken code put him on her radar.
One demerit for Ethan.
“Angie?” she asked, feigning idle curiosity. “Oh, I wouldn’t know. Ben never talks much about her. Actually, nobody does. Just that they were engaged, she cheated on him, and then her new boyfriend killed her. Or that’s what Ben thinks, anyway. He hates talking about her.”
Ethan coolly sipped his whisky. “I’m not surprised,” he said. “She was quite an amazing woman, we worked together at the same engineering firm. Such a force of nature. When I left to go into business for myself, she made Ben hire me. I always thought they made such an elegant couple.”
“As opposed to me, I suppose.” Q looked down, affecting insecurity. She took a hesitant sip of her martini.
“Oh no, baby, I didn’t mean that at all,” he said. He put his arm around her waist in consolation. “You two seem really solid. That was just a poor choice of words. Angela Galvez is a tough act for any woman to follow. Look how long it took him to even try.”
Thanks for mansplaining my relationship, jerkface.
She nodded and resisted the urge to punch him in the throat. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. It’s just that sometimes, I feel like a second choice, you know?” she lied. “I mean if Angie hadn’t have broken off the engagement, he’d be married to her.” She bit her thumb nervously for effect.
Ethan smiled and said, condescendingly, “Well, you’re the one with a ring on your finger. It doesn’t do any good to try to live up to a memory, now does it?”
Fuck. You.
Q nodded. “Thanks for coming out tonight, Ethan. I know it means a lot to Ben. To have all his friends here. Guess we’ll be seeing more of each other, now that you’re signing my paychecks.”
“That was precisely my intention,” he said. Q couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.
She excused herself before she lost her temper and said something she’d regret, walking to the bar to get another drink. She wasn’t sure why Ethan had gotten under her skin like he had, but she didn’t like it, and she was ten seconds away from ripping open his shirt to see if there was a tattoo waiting to be exposed. Josh stopped her, his arm resuming its position at her waist.
“What’s wrong, Uptown? Did ol’ Adam’s apple over there insult you?” he asked.
Q couldn’t shake off the sullen mood that had settled on her and replied without thinking, “Not really, he started running his mouth about Angie and it just hit me wrong, is all.”
“Good lord, is that paper weight still pining after a dead woman?” he asked, incredulous. “I swear; he keeps an altar hidden away somewhere so he can worship the memory of Angela fucking Galvez.”
“Really?” Q asked. “No one ever talks about her, so…”
Josh pulled her in closer and said, “You listen to me, Clementine Toledano. Angie leaving Ben was the third best thing that ever happened to him. That girl made him miserable, he was just too loyal to admit it.”
“Alright, I’ll bite, what’s the second best thing?” she asked relaxing into Josh’s good humor.
“You agreeing to marry that sorry sack of shit.” He grinned. “Of course, the very best thing that ever happened to him is having yours truly as his best friend.”
“I should have known,” she said, falling into their familiar friendly pattern.
He closed the small gap between them. “Now,” he whispered. “If I’d met you first, Ben wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
Q playfully, but purposefully pushed him away and called to Joe, “Please tell me you’re sober. Neither one of these fools is in any condition to close up the bar.”
Joe shook his head and sighed in mock frustration before handing Josh a tall glass of soda water. “As a judge. I’ll get Josh on home, if you figure out what to do about Ben. Deal?”
“Deal,” Q said.
As she turned to go, he leaned across the bar and said, “Last chance.”
“Last chance for what?” she asked, already knowing that another failed pass was heading her way.
“Last chance for a ride on the Joey Express,” he said, raising both eyebrows.
She rolled her eyes and put both hands on his chest, pushing him away. “Joe, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times, bragging about how fast you are, is the worst way to get a woman in bed.”
“Just tell me how you like it. I aim to please,” he said putting on way too much sleaze in his voice for her to take it seriously.
“Goodnight, Joe.”
“On that note,” Joe rang the bell behind the bar loudly. “Last call! Time to wrap it up before decent people start walking their dogs and heading off to work.”
As she was saying goodbye to the Beasts, Ben shouted, “Hey everybody! I just want to thank you for comin’ out tonight to celebrate this lovely woman agreeing to marry me.”
He held out his hand to Q and she walked across the room to join him. As soon as she took his hand, he pulled her to him for another inappropriate kiss. The crowd applauded and Ben looked around. He pointed to Josh and Ethan.
“Josh, Ethan. We’ve known each other for twelve years. Twelve years! Can you believe it? So, which one of you could it be…which one of you would do it... which one of you would..."
Q’s eyes widened as she realized Ben was about to spout accusations of murder and she quickly interrupted, “…be his best man!” She turned to Ben and said loudly enough for everyone to hear, “I think we can decide that later, baby. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He picked Q up and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her towards the exit. As they left, the party clapped and hooted enthusiastically.
Ben staggered across the parking lot with Q scolding, “If you drop me on my head, Ben Bordelon, I swear on all things holy, I will beat you down.”
When they arrived at the apartment, Ben set her feet back on the ground. Q was relieved to find that she was still fully intact. As he stood back up, he lost his balance, sitting down hard on the cement. He handed her the keys to the apartment.
“I think I’m drunk,” he said.
She unlocked the door and pulled him up, groaning, “Come on, let’s get you some water and put you to bed.”
As they entered the apartment, he slammed the door and pulled her to him, kissing her slowly, his hands holding her hips tightly to him.
Q turned her face to the side. “Ben, you’re drunk.”
He looked at her seriously before continuing to kiss her neck and collarbone, his hands unbuttoning her slacks. “You remember the first night we came here?”
She allowed him to pull off her shirt and he knelt before her to kiss her stomach. He looked up at her and said, “You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I couldn’t believe you were here. I still can’t believe you're here.”
She slid down to the floor to kiss him, unbuttoning his shirt as she did. She easily pushed him to the floor and smiled. “You're drunk, my love, I think I'd better drive.”
~~~
It was mid-morning when Q set down a steaming mug of chicory on the top of her piano. She sat down at the bench to practice the new songs they’d added to the set. Still jittery from the past few days, she’d convinced Ben to go for a run in Audubon park to clear his head and sweat out his hangover while she practiced. She hadn’t been completely satisfied with her performance the previous night. While it may have been good enough to grab Derek Sharp’s attention, it was not up to Bourdello Burlesque standards and Charlie had made sure she knew that after the set.
After thirty minutes of playing the crazy three-octave run from the new Dark Harm tune they’d added, in every key, she stood up to stretch and drink her chicory, now cooled to a more comfortable temperature. The doorbell rang and she took her coffee with her to answer it. She opened the door to find Sanger, Gabrielli and a uniformed officer on her porch.
She wrapped both hands around her mug to keep them from shaking. She cleared her throat and addressed Sanger only. “Good morning, Detective. Is there something I can help you with?”
Before Sanger could speak, Gabrielli shoved a handful of papers in her face. “We have a warrant to search the residence, vehicle, and cell phone of Ben Bordelon, and another for his DNA.”
She took the sheets of paper from him and gave each piece a perfunctory glance. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to call my lawyer to look at these.”
“Go right ahead,” Gabrielli said, elbowing his way past her. “We’ll get started in the house.
