Gods of New Orleans (31 page)

But so what? If they’ve got something to say that’s so damned important, why not just say it instead of sending Brand around flapping envelopes in my face!

Emma wiped her eyes and drew in a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She had important business of her own tonight, and it was damn sure more important than any old letter handed over by a bum.

“You okay, Miss Emma?” Lisette asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” she said, not believing a word of it and knowing Lisette didn’t, either.

“Sounds like you got more to tell than you lettin’ on, but I ain’t gon’ press you on it none. Not if you don’ want to be tellin’ me.”

Emma knew a bait and switch when she heard one, but Lisette’s had to be the smoothest and kindest she’d ever been handed.

“The place where Eddie practices,” Emma said and swallowed a laugh that turned into a cough. “He told me that’s what he does there anyway. Said it’s just a little room where bands go to work up their chops. What do you know about it?”

“The Sun? He call it a practice hall?” Lisette said, her voice betraying the fear and worry that found a home in her just then. Emma did her best to put the woman at ease.

“I get that’s a lie. You don’t need to worry about shocking me, Lisette. I’ve seen just about the worst there is in this world.”

“If you say so, Miss Emma.”

When Lisette didn’t continue, Emma nudged her again. “So what do you know about it? Where am I taking us and what am I going to see?”

Lisette kept her tongue for a moment but finally let on. “Sun ain’t no little room. It’s like to bein’ the oldest dance hall in New Orleans. Full name’s
the Rising Sun
, and ain’t no man go there not knowing what he gettin’ into and hopin’ he gonna get everything he can.”

Emma thought back to Brand’s last visit, and the warning he’d given about Eddie.
So what if he did land himself in the street
, Emma thought. So what if he woke up covered in mud with nothing but a banged-up horn in one hand and vomit down his shirt.

So damn what.

Emma flew them on to the deck by her and Eddie’s place. She and Lisette sat in the ship, talking while they waited for the night to grow old enough.

“You said they don’t get going ‘til after midnight.”

“That’s right, Miss Emma. Usual it’s the bands play them gala house shows first. Then they all go to the Sun and kick up a bit. That rum they get from down the Gulf, and that sweet leaf they smoke, makes the whole night feel right as can be.”

Emma didn’t much care for the way Lisette’s eyes went glad as she talked, so she switched up the story fast.

“What’re we going to do when we get the girls out? Where can we go? Do you know anywhere that’s safe?”

Lisette’s face drooped in a heartbeat and she almost went back to shaking and sobbing. With a long slow breath, she held it in.

“Sure I don’t know anywhere around New Orleans that’s safe if that’s what you askin’.”

“Well what about farther away? Do you have family anywhere? Cousins? Anyone?”

Lisette shook her head. “We all from down here and the Durand name pretty much all gone now ‘cept for a few that don’ wanna admit they blood with me and my babies.”

“So we go somewhere else,” Emma said, mulling over the ideas she’d had since Lisette told her the truth about Bacchus’s game. She’d seen the one banker that night she was out with Eddie. And one New York banker was more than enough for her. But she had to be sure.

“They’re all from New York?”

“Who?”

“The ones who come down and buy the girls.”

“Oh. Yes, that’s what everyone always sayin’. New York money this and New York money that. Might be different men spendin’ it, but it always the same money.”

Emma let it sit. Lisette looked tired. If Emma had to admit it, she was exhausted herself. And she still had to confront Eddie and fly back home afterward, so a little rest seemed the right thing just then.

Lisette leaned herself onto Brand’s desk and let out a little sigh as she settled in. Emma thought about grabbing a quick nap in the bunkroom, but as soon as the thought came it went back out. She’d never wake up, and that’d be the end of their big plans. Bacchus didn’t have any work for her tonight, so she and Lisette were going on a snake hunt. She just had to stay awake until it was time to fly.

Three hours later, Emma snapped awake in the pilot’s chair and glared at the clock set into the control panel. She shook herself and rubbed her face. Lisette stirred behind her and came awake slowly as Emma got the
Vigilance
airborne again.

The Rising Sun sat by the riverside, over in Carrollton. Emma took them there as quick as she could, and they came in too fast over the nearest mooring deck. Emma had to loop back around to approach from a better angle. She breathed deep the whole time, doing what she could to calm her shaking hands. Lisette kept asking if she was all right, but Emma held in every word that clawed its way onto her tongue. All it seemed to do was make her eyes water and her throat burn.

~•~

The walk from the deck was quiet enough, except for the steady
thump-thump
of Emma’s angry heart. The sting of Eddie’s lies ate away at her from the inside and turned her gut to acid. Halfway to the hall she had to lean against a tree and gulp some air to keep her stomach down. Lisette said she’d stay behind in the ship because people would recognize her out here.

“This where Mr. B had me workin’ all these years, while he was raisin’ up my Juliette for auction.”

Emma had wanted to ask about what to expect, but speaking her daughter’s name made Lisette go silent and still while tears dripped from her cheeks. So Emma had left her in the ship and made her way down the street on her own.

When she saw the hall up ahead by the riverside, Emma felt her insides spin again and only just kept them steady with a hand pressed flat against her belly.

Glowing lights from the second-story windows lit up the night around the hall. People standing on the balconies there etched the scene with their laughter and sweet-smelling smoke. That and the foot stomping from inside told Emma everything she needed to know about Eddie’s “rehearsals” out here. Even without Lisette’s information, she’d had plenty of reason to suspect before. But seeing it with her own eyes stabbed the blade of betrayal even deeper.

Two heavies stood at the doors: white men with jaws that look like they could chew bricks for breakfast. They stood either side of the entrance dressed in the same liveries as Bacchus’s other boys, but these two looked twice the fight as any Emma had seen so far. Both men wore a look that said you were welcome only if you meant to have a good time and not cause any trouble. Emma had seen their type back in Chicago City and worked up her best smile, just like she’d done back home when it meant getting into the mayor’s speaks without any hassle.

“Evening, miss,” one of the men called to her as she approached from across street.

“Hi,” Emma said, letting her hips say more than her lips did. “I hear it’s girl’s night tonight. Is that right, boys?”

The two men chuckled and one came forward, letting his hands fall to his sides.

“If you’re here as an invited guest, it can be your night.”

Emma almost let her mask slip into worry, but she caught herself in time and let out a giggle instead. “I believe I’m on the list, but my invite is with my man inside. His name’s Eddie Collins. I’m sure you know him,” Emma said, hating herself for making a mockery of the fire that burned her heart to ash. “Don’t you, boys?”

At first she thought she’d overdone it. Both men had looks on their mugs that said they wished she’d told them different, but as the near one reached a hand up to his jacket, the other put a hand out and touched his partner’s arm.

“She’s with the band. We don’t need that kind of trouble,” he said and dropped his hand back to join the other one in front of his belt.

“Yeah,” the near one said to Emma. “Go on inside.”

Emma nodded her thanks and stepped between the two men. As she passed through the wide-open double doors, she heard the men chatting behind her.

“Guess he likes white and dark meat on the grill,”
the first one said.

Emma swallowed the ball of rage that flared in her throat. She used a thumb to dab the tears that threatened to leak from her eyes and went into the hall. At the back of the foyer, a staircase led up to the next floor. To her left and right, high doorways opened into grand parlors filled with tinkling glasses, laughter, and dancing feet.

A white woman came from the parlor to Emma’s left holding a drink in one hand and a silver cigarette holder in the other. The woman wore flapper beads, a feather fascinator, and what looked like half the dress she was meant to be wearing. With a quick flick of her eyes, the chippy took in Emma’s plain skirt and simple blouse. In that instant, Emma regretted not dolling herself up in the glad rags Bacchus had given her.

If I hadn’t fallen asleep . . .

Emma knew what it felt like to be weighed and measured. She’d had plenty of men send their eyes in her direction before, looking her up, down, and all points between. This wasn’t the first time a woman’s eyes treated her this way, but it was the first time Emma felt it like a punch to the gut. The flapper’s lips and eyes curled into a look that told Emma she’d wandered into a viper’s den.

“My, my,” the woman said, pausing to puff on her smoke. She let the holder dangle between her fingers like it might fall only to snap her fingers closed around it, trapping it in her grip. Her face hadn’t changed any, and Emma waited for the insults to start flying from the woman’s ruby lips.

Emma didn’t have to wait for long.

“My,
oh
my. What
would
be the occasion?” she said, dropping her eyes to Emma’s simple brown shoes and white stockings. The smoking woman had on a pair of jet black sandals with straps that tied above her slender ankles.

Emma figured she had one play, and it happened to be the one she’d been holding in since they got to New Orleans.

“I’m here looking for my man. He’s a horn player. Name’s Eddie Collins. You seen him?”

The flapper didn’t miss a beat in replying, and the steam Emma thought she’d put behind her words escaped from her lips in a gasp of surprise.

“Oh, Eddie? Your man, is he? Well”‌—‌the flapper stepped close enough that Emma could smell the cigarette on her breath‌—‌”You’ll find him around back, I suspect. But you know that saying about fools rushing in. Best if you just hang there by the door and listen,” the woman suggested, her lips still doing the same serpent’s smile as before.

Emma’s hand shot out before she could stop it. The flapper’s face spun to the side, driven by the slap like a car that’d been slammed into.

One of the toughs at the door stepped inside with a hand hovering over his lapels.

“Miss June, is everything all right?”

The flapper recovered and waved a hand at the doorman. She said it was all right. That and her eyes told Emma she’d won this round.

“Where is he?” Emma asked. “You said out back. Where out back?”

“In the gatehouse,” the flapper said. “But‌—‌”

“But what?”

“You don’t want to go out there on your own. He won’t be the same man you know, and it won’t be good for you.”

Emma sniffed at that. “Sister, he’s not the same man I know and from the look of how this place runs, he hasn’t been for a good long time.”

“That’s not what I mean, honey,” the flapper said, her old malice coming back into her voice. “I mean no woman ever goes out there and comes back the same as she was before.”

Emma let that sink in. For a second she thought about heading back to the
Vigilance
and just flying out of town, anywhere but here in this hellish den of vice she’d wandered into. Then Lisette’s face came to her memory, and Emma’s feet took her out the front door and down the stone walkway that led around the building to the gatehouse by the riverbank.

Heavy dark trees lined the walk and Emma kept to the shadows as best she could. She paused when she heard Eddie’s voice from around the corner of the house. His deep laugh, the laugh that used to make her smile, echoed between the trees like a whispered warning.

Chapter 32

Aiden shuffled up the stairs to his and his ma’s apartment, cradling his left arm with his right and keeping away from the wall in case he slipped and had to fall against it to keep his feet. The way his shoulder hurt, he knew he’d scream if it bumped against anything but air.

He’d gotten away from Mother Bonvivant’s house. Well enough anyway, even if he wasn’t well enough to work for the house mother anymore.

He’d run and kept running, but they’d caught up to him. Two guys from Mother Bonvivant’s krewe rounded a corner in his path, so Aiden had dodged and made for the other side of the street. An alley opened there, and he was sure he’d get away if he could just make it inside.

One thing he’d made sure to do since getting work as a houseboy was learn the streets. Julien had helped him there, and the alley would have given him a maze to hide in. They’d never have caught him if he’d made it inside.

But two more of the house mother’s krewe had come right out of the alley and made straight for him. By the time he’d dodged again, the ones behind him had his arms and soon enough the other pair had his legs, too.

“Little dove tryin’ to fly. Time to clip your fool wings.”

One of them had grabbed his left arm and wrenched it up behind his back hard enough to pop it loose. Aiden had felt a heavy burn shoot straight down his arm and across his chest, a pain like someone had shoved a branding iron against his shoulder and held it there.

The toughs dropped him to the ground and had kicked him a few times in the gut. He’d curled up, holding his good arm against his belly and taking the kicks there. One of them had spit on his face and talked about knocking out some teeth, but another one said they’d done enough, that “Mother Sophie don’t want her little dove thinkin’ she has no use for him.”