[Bayou Gavotte 03.0] Heart of Constantine (25 page)

Feeling like a wimp, Marguerite drove over to Hellebore University accompanied by a gorgeous blond bodybuilder and Lawless. No way she was leaving him at home alone because for all she knew the intruder would come back
again
.

It was true that she had work to do this morning, but she shouldn’t be so cowardly when it came to the media. Compared to what Constantine went through day in and day out, a little bit of harassment was nothing. Quite frankly, she needed to grow up.

Thanks to Reuben and Jabez, she’d made it to the car unmolested. A cop at the end of the street ushered them through the crush of cars and reporters and gave them a good head start. Once they were well away, she peered across at him. “Have I seen you on the cover of a romance novel?”

“One or two,” Reuben said nonchalantly. Then he grinned. Sounding much more like a normal guy, he added, “Actually, you haven’t seen them yet. I got my first contract a few months ago, so the books won’t be out for a while. One of these days, I’ll be voted Mr. Romance. Just you wait and see.”

“I can believe that,” Marguerite said. “I’ll be looking for those covers for sure.”

Encouraged, he gave her his card with his website and Facebook addresses. “I’ll be posting them there, too.” Then he asked, “Have you slept with Constantine yet?”

Cripes. “You guys are like a bunch of gossipy girls! What business is it of yours or Lep’s, or anyone else’s for that matter?”

“Whoa,” Reuben said, holding up his hands. “Don’t get all bent out of shape. We like the dude. It does him good to get laid.”

“Sure, but sex isn’t necessary. It’s his business if he does without.” She frowned. “Besides, how can you tell?”

Reuben laughed without much humor. “Believe me, we can tell. Do us all a favor and seduce him.”

“That’s more or less what Lep said.” She pondered how to probe without revealing what little she knew. She’d had to appeal to Constantine’s sense of fair play to get him to admit anything at all. “It’s not like he’d have a hard time finding a willing woman. Maybe he prefers being celibate.”

Reuben snorted. All right, so she already knew that wasn’t the case. “Let’s assume he wants it. Why does he do without?”

“Beats me,” Reuben said.

“Okay, then, how long has he done without?”

“Can’t say for sure,” Reuben said. “He’s only become unbearable in the last six months or so.”

“Has he had any girlfriends since his wife died?”

Reuben considered. “Nothing that lasted long. Can’t say I blame him for being turned off a bit after Jonetta, but the other chicks were okay.”

At least she now knew how to direct her prodding. They were approaching the road that ran in front of the
Humanities Building. “Are you supposed to dog my every footstep?” she asked.

“’Fraid so.”

“I don’t think anything bad is likely to happen to me in here,” she said. “Especially since I have a real dog with me. And people who don’t have keys can’t get in on weekends.”

“Maybe, but something bad will happen to me if I don’t stick with you,” Reuben said. “Simple as that.”

“Let’s go get a coffee then,” she said. “This is going to take a while.” She turned right instead of left into the parking lot of a restaurant that made tolerable lattes. She parked under a tree, leaving the window down for Lawless, and they went inside. On Sunday mornings it was invariably packed for brunch. Almost immediately, they ran into Al Bonnard, Lavonia, Janie, and Roy Lutsky, an ill-assorted crew if ever she’d seen one. The AC wasn’t on particularly high—nothing like Lavonia’s house—and Lavonia’s hands were clasped around a mug of steaming coffee, but she was shivering. So was her aura. She gave Marguerite a wan little smile.

“I hear you had quite a night last night,” Al said. “Have a bonbon.” He held out a bag to her. Janie had one scrunched-up wrapper in front of her, but Lutsky had a pile. Chocolate-freak Lavonia seemed to have lost her appetite.

“Thanks.” Marguerite took two and offered one to Reuben, who shook his head. She dropped the other candy in her backpack. Chocolate always came in handy sooner or later.

Lutsky glowered. “As usual, I missed everything. Anywhere Dufray is, I’m not. Marguerite, you
have
to get me an interview with him.”

Behind her, Reuben made a rude noise. Lutsky scowled at the bodyguard and swore under his breath. Janie, needless to say, was assessing Reuben’s charms. “Jeez, Marguerite. There are pics on the Internet this morning of that middle-aged playboy fondling your butt. That’s how many hot guys in two days? Four? Five?

“Only three,” Marguerite said. “This is Reuben, my bodyguard for the morning. Tony was last night. Reuben, would you mind ordering takeout for us? I’d like a latte.”

Reuben sauntered over to the counter, followed by Janie’s hungry eyes and Lutsky’s angry ones. Marguerite unwrapped her bonbon and savored it.

“For someone who just had a near-death experience, you look mighty cheerful,” Al said.

“I’d be cheerful, too, if I had three hot guys in a twenty-four-hour period, one of them a rock star,” Janie said bitterly. “Actually, Reuben’s better looking than Constantine.”

“Reuben is a romance novel cover model,” Marguerite said. “He doesn’t seem to be anywhere near as violent as Constantine.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” muttered Lutsky, while Janie took off to scope out Reuben up close. “Have you had sex with Dufray yet?”

Before Marguerite had a chance to gather herself to retort, Al cast his eyes heavenward. “Are there no sane people left in Bayou Gavotte? Either they’re violent, obsessed with sex, or just plain obsessed. Even my stable, practical Lavonia, who only dabbles in witchcraft, isn’t immune. She’s a basket case this morning.”

“I had nightmares after I got home to bed,” Lavonia said. “Really horrible ones.”

“Maybe you’re coming down with something,” Marguerite said, ignoring Lutsky’s glare, hoping he would realize he was way out of line. “Sometimes fever will bring on nightmares, and you don’t look at all well.”

“I don’t have a fever.” Lavonia opened her mouth as if to say more, then shut it again, but it didn’t take special sight to see she was deathly afraid. Of what?

Oh, hell. Now Lavonia thought
she
was having prophetic dreams? “Call me when you get home,” Marguerite said. “I’ll make you chicken soup or something. I’ll have to bring Constantine or one of his bodyguards, too, and there may be a pack of newshounds on my trail.”

“Yes,
please
make sure you have a bodyguard at all times. You don’t need to come over, though, because I’m not sick. I refuse to be, because Al and I are going to a play tonight.” She picked up a bonbon.

Al shook his head. “You’ve been overdoing the chocolate lately.”

“Right.” Lavonia sighed and put the candy down again. “I’ve heard there’s a new costume designer at the theater, and the costumes are scrumptious.”

“Who gives a damn about costumes?” Lutsky stood, looming over Marguerite. “I need information. Did you have sex with Dufray or didn’t you?”

Marguerite felt her face go red as a poinsettia. People at the nearby tables stared. Mustering her calm, she said quietly, “That’s none of your business.”

“It damned well is my business,” Lutsky bellowed, and now every head in the room turned. “If you fucked Dufray, I need to know!”

Reuben appeared at her side. “Need help?”

“No.”
Not unless you can wipe the memories of everyone in the entire room.
“For God’s sake, Roy,” she hissed.

“You owe me!” Lutsky roared. “Damn it all, Marguerite. You
promised
!”

“I never promised any such thing!” she cried. “I never,
ever
kiss and tell.”

“Why, you little bitch—”

Reuben cut Lutsky off midsentence, carried him outside, and dumped him in the parking lot. The bodyguard came back indoors, paid for the lattes, and returned to Marguerite. Meanwhile, everybody in the entire restaurant was staring at her, including Lavonia, who was trying to hide a smile; Janie, who was clutching one of Reuben’s business cards; and Al, who somehow managed to look both affronted and amused.

“Ready to go?” Reuben said.

“Yes, please,” Marguerite said. “Are there any reporters in here?”

“Not that I’ve noticed,” Reuben said.

“Thank God for that.” Marguerite turned to go, but Lavonia put a hand on her arm.

“I didn’t want to like Constantine,” she said softly, “but I admit to being impressed. Whoever chased you last night…” She sucked in a breath. “I wouldn’t want to be him.”

“Shit, no,” Reuben said. “Dead man walking.”

Al rolled his eyes. He didn’t have much going on in his aura—he was generally a calm sort of person who prided himself on scientific detachment—but irritation flashed out. “I don’t know how you humanities types stand it.”

“Stand what?” asked Marguerite.

“Endless clichés,” Al said. “Chemistry is so much tidier, and, wonder of wonders, it’s useful, too.” He held out the bag, which still contained a number of bonbons. “Take these, Marguerite. We’ve had enough, and you need all the chocolate you can get.”

She thanked him and dropped the bag into her backpack. They left and a few minutes later parked in the Humanities Building parking lot. Marguerite led her bodyguard upstairs to her office. Any minute now, he would ask for an explanation of that little contretemps with Lutsky.

Except that he didn’t. Relieved, Marguerite didn’t offer one because anything that didn’t involve mentioning auras would be a lie. Why couldn’t life just be open and simple, no games, no secrets, no lies?

“What was such a turnoff about Jonetta?” she asked, while she went through her bookshelves for all the Old Irish she could find.

“Apart from being a crazy-ass bitch who attacked his fans?” Reuben said, his eyes on the display of his cell. Judging by the zaps and zings, he was playing a video game.

“Not really?” Marguerite said.

“Oh, yeah.” He paused the game. “Never seen a woman so jealous, with no reason at all. I’d swear on my mama’s grave he never loved her, but—”

“He never loved Jonetta? Then why did he marry her?” Marguerite moved to her desk and started rummaging through papers.

Reuben hunched a shoulder. “Never any telling why Constantine does what he does. Sure, she was hot, but he doesn’t give a shit about hot. Some of his best friends are vampire chicks, and he doesn’t touch them. In all the time
I’ve known him, he never had more than one woman at a time—not that any of them lasted long—but he could have had dozens if he’d wanted. Jonetta got bent out of shape if he so much as hugged one of the groupies or made nice with some random fan-girl. I saw her go at one chick, claws and all, but Constantine got in the way, and after that he wouldn’t let her backstage. If you ask me, that was the beginning of the end.” He scratched his chin. “Well, it was doomed from the start, but next she did her best to make him jealous. Dumb woman, trying to play games with the man.” He gave Marguerite a look, and the scary side of Reuben leaked past his placid aura.

Jeez. “You don’t need to warn me.” She stopped herself from hotly denying having any relationship at all with the rock star. Obviously, they had something going on, and she had no idea who knew what. “I hate playing games. I like things to be simple and straightforward.” Fat chance of that, as long as she associated with Constantine. Which wouldn’t be for much longer, after which she’d go back to her orderly, private life. But if that was the case, why had she been close to tears this morning when he’d left?

Something about him made her feel safe, had made her feel that way right from the start, even when he wasn’t acting safe at all. And… he hadn’t been too freaked out about her aura reading. Oh, and there were those kisses, too. Reuben sent some text messages and answered a call or two, and Marguerite focused on her work. He surfed the web while she searched her drawers for a folder of notes. He played more video games while she downloaded and printed several articles to read in front of the television, since it seemed unlikely she would be making love with Constantine Dufray.
Nothing Reuben had told her explained why he would be afraid of having sex. Of marriage, maybe, but…

“When she tried to make him jealous, what did he do?”

He looked up from his cell. “Nothing at first, but in the end he ditched her.” Whizz. “That’s when she started bad-mouthing him.” Bang. Zing.

“And his reputation made a lot of what she said believable.” Quickly, she added, “To the superstitious, anyway.”
And to those who really knew him?
She didn’t say that out loud, but—

“He didn’t beat her.” Reuben paused the video game. “Didn’t send her nightmares. Had no reason to, even if he was like that, which he’s not. He protects people who can’t protect themselves, and he only hurts people to save others, not for vengeance. Knows exactly what he’s doing, the man does.” There was dogged hero worship in his voice.

And uncertainty in his aura. Lawless sensed it, too, and whimpered and prodded his thigh with a paw. “He’s getting bored,” Marguerite said. “I guess you are, too. I won’t be much longer.”

Reuben’s agitated aura went limp with relief. He stuck his cell in his pocket and took Lawless into the hallway to play fetch with a rolled-up magazine.

“All done,” she said at last. “I need to return this book to the Psych Department, and then we can go.”

Reuben silently followed her upstairs to the next floor and along the corridor into the wing that held both the Psych and Sociology Departments. Lawless galloped ahead of them into the Psychology Reading Room and ran smack-dab into Zeb at the far end of the room carrying a tattered manila folder with papers sticking out every which way.

A color printout fell to the floor. Zeb fended Lawless off and gaped at Marguerite, aghast. “Oh, shit! Thank God it’s only you.” He dove for the paper and jammed it into the folder. His eyes widened at the sight of Reuben. “Who’s he?”

“Constantine assigned me a bodyguard,” Marguerite said. “I almost got killed last night.”

Anguish—not surprise—twisted Zeb’s face and aura. “What happened?”

“I got chased through the streets on my bike by someone in a black van. Luckily, I got away.”