Black Mustard: Justice (5 page)

“Mr. La Bauve, I wanted to apologize for everything -- for wronging you. Not for thinking ill of you, but for not thinking of you at all. My heart was in the money and that’s all I knew. I know better now. I don’t believe in hoodoo, and I don’t believe this will cure me, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m sorry.”

The man was still viciously eloquent. Justice just needed to get those words back and into a damn courtroom on the right side.

Eloi’s head tilted, that grin getting bigger. “It don’ matter if’n you don’ believe. It believe in you, catin.”

Loic rolled his eyes at the little endearment, but nodded, held one hand out to Eloi. Eloi grinned and shook Loic’s hand hard, a scatter of little black seeds falling from the Loic’s watchband, tinkling on the bar.

Loic looked down at them, and Justice picked one up, stared at it. Little and dried out and wrinkled. ‘Used’ was the word that popped into his head.

Worn.

“Lookit that.” Eloi swept the seeds away, even taking the one from his fingers. “Them’s dangerous things there. You oughtn’t go playing with le moutard, oui?”

“What?”

“Bourbon’s on the house, y’all.” Eloi snorted, reached out and drew crosses on Loic’s forehead, lips, throat. “I done forgive you. Go and do good stuff now. Not here. I gots to clean.”

“Clean. Right.” Justice finished his drink, and Loic’s, since the man wasn’t making a move to take it. God, he hoped Eloi hadn’t just made the man feeble. Not that he’d believed apologizing to Eloi would work or anything, but a man could hope a little, right? Right. Absolutely right.

He put a twenty in the tip jar and took Loic’s arm, led the man outside into the heavy, wet nighttime air. “Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it? Damn, that was a pretty little apology. Don’t know where you got into any mustard seed at the prison, though. It was mustard seed, wasn’t it? Lord, you wouldn’t think that shit grew just anywhere where a man’s watch would get into it.”

“Justice.” Loic sighed, stopped, looked at him.

“What?” He stopped, looked back, eyes fascinated by that slowly growing smile before Loic opened his mouth again.

“Shut up, and take me home.”

End.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

Justice

SPICE IT UP

An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers

PO Box 2545

Round Rock, TX 78680

Copyright 2011 by Dallas Coleman

Cover illustration by Alessia Brio

Published with permission

ISBN: 97
8-1-61040-221-7

www.torquerepress.com

All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.

First Torquere Press Printing: May 2011

Printed in the USA