Drawn Together (27 page)

Z. A. Maxfield

“I heard.” Anthony’s eyes were wide. “This Yamane fellow; what’s he like? He’s the artist you thought was a girl, right?”

“Yep. Imagine my surprise.”

“I’ll bet.”

“You’ll need a long black wig. Straight hair. And I brought his clothes.” Rory swallowed hard. Anthony stared at him.

“Rory…” Anthony began. “Are you…? Did you care for this guy or something?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll be damned.” Anthony said nothing more, just looked at Rory a little differently, which didn’t affect Rory one way or the other. Pretty soon, the whole town of St. Antoine’s Parish would be buzzing with either the news that Rory had a boyfriend, or Rory got dumped by a guy. Rory was so numb he didn’t feel a thing anymore. He just wanted the whole thing over.

“You’ll have to move less like a guy and more like a mouse.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Rory just shook his head and finished his milkshake. “He has this timid way of walking, like he’s expecting something to jump out at him. Unless he’s actually in danger, and then he kind of --” He hoped Anthony was all out of questions.

“Rory. You know, sometimes all of us feel something for someone we probably shouldn’t. Someone like a guy, I mean. It could just be like that. You know…hormones?”

“I know.” Rory looked out the driver’s-side window. “But it’s not the first time for me.

I don’t think I’m hardwired one way or the other. Just growing up down here… It kind of limited my choices a little. I don’t feel ashamed about it. He’s going to hate me forever for leaving him in Shreveport, but I couldn’t take a chance that woman would kill him.”

“But it’s all right if she kills me, is that it?” Anthony sounded like he was smiling.

Rory didn’t turn to look because he had tears in his eyes. Well, shoot. “You’re a highly qualified professional, are you not?”

“Yeah,” said Anthony. “I wash the sheriff’s car every week.”

* * * * *

Ethan’s cell phone rang at just about the time he thought it would. “Hello.”

“It’s me, you shit,” said Amelia.

“And a gracious good evening to you too,” said Ethan, looking at the clock. Seven p.m.

“Cut the crap. What do they know, and don’t lie. I’ll know if you’re lying.” Drawn Together

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“Basically, they know everything about you, Rory, and Yamane,” said Ethan. “They know you killed the three stooges. They arrested Claude and Euphonia so you couldn’t use them to bargain. I’ve told them everything I know.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” said Amelia. “You are so damned dead.”

“Except…” said Ethan.

“What?” demanded Amelia. “Except what?”

“Rory’s cell phone number,” Ethan pronounced distinctly.

“What, what the hell does that mean?”

“Well, if I haven’t told him, you haven’t told him, and his grandparents haven’t told him, because they can’t, they’re in jail…” Ethan let this percolate. “How could Rory know you still aren’t a threat to his family?”

“Ah,” said Amelia.

“Ah,” echoed Ethan.

“What are you going to want for his phone number?”

“Out,” said Ethan. “You get his number and we’re done. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. Cheap at twice the price. I just want out with my head.”

“You usually drive a harder bargain.” Amelia sounded suspicious.

“I’m usually bargaining from a position of strength,” Ethan reminded her.

“Okay,” said Amelia. “You give me the number, then get out of town. We’re even.” You’ve got that right. He gave her what she wanted. “I’m gone.” He hung up.

Rene Chanfreau stood before him with his arms folded. “Well. Let the tournament begin. Are you really leaving, or will you stay till the fat lady dies?”

“You mean you’d let me go?” Ethan asked.

“What can I charge you with?”

“How about accessory?” suggested Ethan. “Not that I’d be busted up if you didn’t.”

“The way I see it, the guys in Long Beach who want you can have you. Me? It’s too much paperwork.” Rene looked at Ethan. “Don’t make me sorry.”

“I’m out,” said Ethan. “I was out as soon as Rory hit the water in Long Beach. I didn’t know about that, you know. Before she did it. After that, it’s all been about staying alive.” He thought about Jeff. “Shit.”

Rene handed him a beer. “To comrades in arms.” Rene took his bottle, twisted the top off, then held it out for Ethan to touch with his.

* * * * *

Rory was slumped back in the driver’s seat, waiting. He was watching the rain patter lightly on the hood of his truck when the phone rang. He was finally used to listening for the 164

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annoying sound, and for a brief, happy moment, he wondered if it might be Yamane. He looked at it; the number was restricted. He nudged Anthony awake. “Hello?”

“Well, hello there, Rory Delaplaines. You have something that belongs to me.” Amelia’s voice.

“Not right here, I don’t,” said Rory. “He’s smoking in the bar next door. Filthy habit; I never let him do it in the room.”

“Never mind that. When will you give him back to me?”

“How about never?”

“How about your grandma never makes you another chess pie?” Amelia growled.

“What’s my grandmother got to do with this?”

“Let’s just say if you don’t bring Yamane home to meet Grandma and turn him over to me, Grandma might just find that double-wide she’s living in burning down around her.”

“Leave my family alone,” Rory ground out. “This is between you and Yamane. Why drag me in on it?”

“You’re in it because you’re just another dog,” said Amelia. “And I don’t like taking care of pets.”

Rory didn’t think anything she said could hurt him, but for some reason, the damned dog reference bothered him. “I’m his dog? Ask Yamane what this dog has been licking, Amelia.”

“You sick, lying bastard.”

“It’s no lie, Amelia. Yamane’s been done more times than the Macarena, and I’m only the last in a long line of nameless, faceless guys.” Sometimes it really felt like that might be the truth.

“I know you’re in New Orleans. Bring him, right now, or don’t bother coming at all.” She hung up.

Anthony looked him over. “So, how’d it go?”

“It’s on. Yamane and I are expected home.” He put his head in his hands and kept it there so Anthony wouldn’t see the expression on his face.

“It’s okay, Rory,” said Anthony with uncharacteristic gentleness. “I’ll bet it’ll be over soon and you and Yamane can laugh at it over a beer.” Rory shook his head. If Anthony were any nicer he’d cry like a baby.

“Okay, come on, it’s time to see if I move enough like a mouse to fool the cat.”

* * * * *

Yamane woke to find Mike Tucker standing next to the couch in his hotel suite with an armful of roses.

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“Hello.” Tucker smiled down at him.

Yamane held his head. It throbbed. “Oh, shit. How long have I been out?”

“Little while. Six hours. I finished up work for the day.”

“That’s what I get for drinking.” Yamane rolled over and sat up.

“Did you wake up at all? Have you eaten since lunch?” Yamane shook his head and got up too quickly. “No.” Tucker held out a steady hand. “You know, it’s not very often a man like me gets to rescue a stranded prince.” Tucker looked for somewhere to put the roses. “I have to make the most of it.”

“At least you didn’t say princess,” said Yamane idly, looking down on the street below.

“Why on earth would I say that? You don’t look like a princess to me.” Yamane let the curtain fall back. “I need to do something.”

“So let’s go eat.”

“No. I have to find my friend and --”

Tucker stepped closer. “When you have me right here?”

“Tucker,” warned Yamane. “It’s not going to happen.”

“Let me be your friend, Yamane.”

“I don’t need a friend,” Yamane told him tiredly. “I need to get a grip and see to it that someone I love doesn’t get himself killed, and if you don’t want to help me with that, you can let yourself out.” Yamane waited to see what Tucker would do.

Tucker capitulated. “All right. If you could just please explain to me what’s going on.”

“I will.” Yamane pulled the bathroom door shut behind him. He called out, “Have you got any idea where I can find a place called St. Antoine’s Parish?” 166

Z. A. Maxfield

Chapter Twentyseven

The sky was ominous and rain came down in rivers over the windshield. Rory checked Anthony out of the corner of his eye as he started the engine. Anthony’s disguise would fool no one, especially not Amelia, unless she was looking at him through binoculars smeared with Vaseline. He hoped the weather would help because Anthony could carry an umbrella, which he could hold up to block his face until the last minute. It was hard to see in the rain anyway, and the storm would make the unlit areas around his grandparents’ home dark as pitch.

“Your guy actually wears this?” said Anthony. “I mean it’s kind of…”

“On him, it’s something else entirely, trust me. And he’s not exactly my guy.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. He must stand out in a crowd, though.”

“Oh, he does.” Rory bit back a laugh. “Like you would not believe.”

“Well, it’s not like you don’t,” said Anthony. “You must be quite a sight together.”

“So we’ve been told.”

“I still just can’t get my head wrapped around it.”

“What?”

“You and some guy. Now, at last, maybe one of the girls in town will go out with me.”

“Glad to be of service,” grunted Rory.

“Sorry, man, just wanted to put a tactful spin on it.”

“It’s okay,” Rory said. The windshield wipers swished back and forth and the tires squealed on the wet asphalt. It wasn’t long now until they’d be pulling off the highway onto Center Street, which basically cut right through downtown and past the local businesses. In the distance, Rory first saw the pharmacy and the Orleans movie theater right across the street from it; they were the first buildings that visitors saw in St. Antoine’s as they entered Drawn Together

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what the locals referred to as “downtown.” He drove his truck past all the little businesses, the new KFC and Quizno’s restaurants, and finally past the A&W drive-through, with its sign that still read NO CARHOP SERVICE. Then he was through the town itself and on his way out of it. His grandparents’ home was only a mile away.

Neither man spoke when he pulled into the long drive up to the house. It was always a letdown for Rory, who still hoped to see the old place with its inviting porch and upstairs windows with their blowing gauzy curtains. The house itself had been old and no match for Katrina’s hurricane winds. Once the roof tore off, the whole thing had come down in water and wind like matchsticks. Now in its place there was a manufactured home. Perfectly nice, but not at all the same.

Rory parked the truck and got out, squelching through the muddy ground around to the side, where Anthony sensibly waited for him. Anyone who saw them in this downpour, with their umbrella shielding them from the brunt of the falling water, would see Rory helping Yamane out of the truck. Rory reached out a hand and straightened Anthony’s wig, which had become slightly askew when taking off his seat belt, making sure the motion looked more like a caress than a wardrobe malfunction.

Rory looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Anthony whispered under his breath, “What now?”

“I guess we go in,” said Rory.

They began the walk to the front door, going about twenty-five feet, when it opened and the unthinkable happened. Rory looked up and saw his grandmère come out onto the porch.

“What the --” he said, stopping in his tracks. Anthony kept going, pulling him a little forcefully. “I thought Rene said she wouldn’t be here!” he whispered frantically, starting to move forward now, confused.

“She’s not supposed to be here,” Anthony replied under his breath. “Don’t lose your cool now. Just keep walking. Do your job!”

“Okay, okay, I got it.” Rory gritted his teeth. He looked hard at his grandmère, who stood placidly waiting with her hand to her face as if she were trying to see him through the rain. Something caught his attention and dazzled his eyes momentarily, some light that played… He couldn’t fathom what it was at first, but it reminded him of something. He saw it flash again and realized in that moment that it was like the little red dot from his laser pointer.

“Grandmère!” Rory shouted, bursting into a dead run. “Grandmère!” Rory left the false Yamane and hurled himself forward as fast as he could. The rain soaked him and the mud and muck sucked his feet with every step. He reached out a hand to balance himself so he could sprint up the porch steps when a flash of lightning illuminated the sky, and he saw his grandmère’s face had a red dot dancing on it right between her eyes. Only it wasn’t his 168

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grandmother at all; it was Amelia. She pulled a gun out of her apron pocket and pointed it straight at him.

Sheriff Chanfreau cursed soundly.

He was seriously unhappy. Amelia had done the unexpected and dressed in Miss Euphonia’s clothing and apron, and Rory had taken off running to her, blocking his shot.

Rene ran frantically for a better position, using the laser sight on his SIG to target Amelia again, praying he could get a shot off before she did. Holy crap. He saw the muzzle of Amelia’s gun flash twice and heard three shots ring out.

Rory was hurled off his feet by the terrible impact of the bullets. His body flew backward and then landed with an enormous splash in a puddle on the partially paved driveway. The third shot killed Amelia instantly, and Rene hadn’t fired it. He slogged through about a hundred meters of marshy ground, trying to find out who had fired the shot that had dropped Amelia Gianfranco.

Anthony was looking after Rory and calling for medical help, but Rene had an unknown shooter on his hands, and even though he’d done exactly what Rene had been planning to do if it came down to that, Rene had to find out what the hell was going on.

He saw the minutest movement in a tree, about fourteen feet off the ground, and took cover. Holding his own weapon at the ready, he shouted, “Stand down and show yourself!” to whoever was hiding there.