House of Blues (15 page)

What Maya was into wasn't instantly clear, other than
drama, drugs, and, very likely, some informal version of
prostitution. The phrase "coke whore" came to mind.

There were a lot of people in the two rooms, ten or
twelve at first glance; which one was Maya, Skip couldn't tell. What
she could see was that this was a very hip scene, and biracial, which
probably indicated musicians hung here. That and a couple of
instrument cases. There was a good sound system, too, currently
playing music with a lot of fairly subtle percussion.

The women were all young, thin—maybe a little too
thin—and wearing something figure-flaunting. From what Skip could
see in the dim light, they were fairly attractive, as Toni was, and
had a kind of hungry look about them, as if they were looking for
something but not quite sure what.

The men were less attractive. But how they fit into
the world was a little unclear. They weren't young professionals.
Some were probably the suspected musicians—the black ones, maybe.
Others could have been waiters or bartenders or hairdressers, or
srnall-time hustlers and thugs, or people who had smallish jobs for
performers or clubs. A lot of them had a hanger-on kind of feel to
them; an uneasy posturing.

Like the women, they seemed hungry, on the make; Skip
wasn't sure for what, and she wasn't sure they knew.

For the most part, they were older than the women.
Some were overweight, some muscular, some had a tough, streetwise
look that Skip wasn't crazy about. One of them, Skip was willing to
bet, paid for Maya's apartment.

A group was sitting in the living room, mostly on the
floor around a coffee table. One of the women wore an unbuttoned
blouse, revealing her bra. A couple of loners sat in corners,
probably too loaded to socialize.

A few people stood around the table in the dining
room, as if there was food there. One couple were leaning against a
wall, going at it fairly heavily.

Toni said, "Damn. He's not here."

"
Could he be in a bedroom or something?"

She shook her head. "Trust me. That's not what
he's into. Let's go find Maya."

She led Skip to the dining room group, plucking at a
woman in black jeans and a black, tight-fitting garment that might
have passed for a T-shirt if it had been shaped remotely like a T. It
was mostly Lycra and shaped a lot like the woman inside it.

"
Maya, meet a friend of mine."

Maya was one of the too-thin ones. Her body looked
fine in the outfit, but her face was a little gaunt, her chin and
nose a little sharp, giving her a raw, unfinished look. Her hair was
brown and thick, but slightly bedraggled.

However, Skip's attention was instantly riveted not
by Maya, but by the woman she was talking to. It was Tricia
Lattimore, her best friend from McGehee's, the exclusive private
school her parents had sent her to.

Tricia had moved to New York and dropped out of
Skip's life for a while. When she came back, she hadn't called. Skip
found out she was back coincidentally, from the bartender at the
place where Tricia waitressed.

Tricia said she hadn't called because she had a drug
habit; but now she was over it.

She wasn't over it anymore.

Skip felt her face flush in fear that Tricia would
blow her cover. Just as her ears were starting to ring with panic,
Tricia nodded very slightly with her chin, as if to say that was all
the acknowledgment Skip was going to get. Maya didn't introduce them,
but Skip said, "Hey, Tricia."

"
Hey, girl." That wasn't a way Tricia
normally talked.

"You know her?" Maya said, ignoring Toni
and Skip. Guests were probably supposed to be prescreened.

But Toni was impatient. "Look, we don't want
anything. I'm looking for Dennis—you know that guy I sent you?"

Maya was suddenly cold. "I don't think I do."

"
You know. I called you about him. Has he been
here?"

"Toni, you're drunk." Maya turned her back.

Skip said, "Look, he's my brother-in-law. He
left my sister with two little kids." She brought out the
picture, but Maya shook her head.

"I haven't seen him."

Casually, she turned to Tricia. "Have you?"

"I might have."

"Can we talk?"

Tricia nodded, and slipped out of the conversational
circle. She and Skip fell back toward the wall.

Skip said, "Don't blow my cover, okay?"

Tricia nodded again, seemingly in shock; probably
very loaded.

"
Do you know this man?"

Tricia shook her head, still not saying anything.

"Ah. So you wanted to talk to me. I'm sorry to
see you here."

Tricia looked as anguished as if she'd been caught
stealing.

"Will you leave with me?"

"I can't. I haven't—" She stopped.

"You haven't scored yet."

But why not? Skip wondered. Why not just plop her
money down and get out?

Because she doesn't have the money.

She probably has to go to bed with somebody to get
her drugs. Skip hesitated, but only for a moment. She didn't want to
support a drug habit, but there were worse things. She dug in her
purse. "Do you need money?"

"No. Of course not."

The light was too dim to tell for sure, but Skip had
the impression Tricia's color had changed.

Her hand closed around a wad of bills. She extracted
it and pressed it on Tricia. "Don't argue, Tricia. just take it.
Please."

They had been talking softly, but Tricia took a
breath and Skip could see she was going to yell; it was too late to
stop her. "Leave me alone, goddammit!" She threw the bills
in Skip's face.

Mortified, Skip bent automatically to retrieve the
money and heard a ragged sob. It was followed by a loud, "Oooooh,
God!" and then Tricia was a crying machine.

She had her face down, one hand at her mouth, and
Skip was trying to decide if she ought to hug her, and if so, how to
do it, when Maya said, "Okay, Toni, that's it for you. Take your
friend and don't ever come back. Tricia, you too."

Toni started to protest, but Maya said, "I mean
it. Out."

That seemed a fine idea to Skip—the sooner the
better—but she hung back a moment, as if stunned by what was
happening. She wanted to see which of the men would come forward to
police the eighty-sixing.

Maya turned to her and Tricia. She put an arm around
Tricia's shoulders and started to guide her out. "Let's go,
ladies. That's enough for tonight."

Skip glanced around. The guests were frozen in a
silent tableau, watching the action. No one seemed about to
participate.

She followed.

Tricia was talking low now, pleading. "Maya, I'm
really sorry I lost it. Let me go out and get a breath of air and
I'll be fine. I'll be back in five, okay?"

"
Another time, babe. This isn't your night."

They were at the door now, Toni already outside, Maya
more or less pushing Tricia out, and Skip behind. She felt movement
at her back and turned around to see a man in black, dark and, at the
moment, extremely unhappy-looking. Probably the one who really ran
things here.

Skip said, "I'll take care of her," which
caused Tricia to give her a look of flat-out hatred, but Maya stepped
aside.

Skip guided the still-dazed Tricia down the steps and
looked at her, about to offer to take her home. "Goddamn you,
Skippy Langdon!" Tricia hollered at full capacity. "Goddamn
you!"

Toni said, "Shhhhh," rather helplessly. She
looked as if she'd been slugged with a crowbar.

"Come on, Toni. Let's get her out of here."

"You are not getting me out of here. I'm not
going anywhere."

Tricia was yelling and sobbing at the same time.

A black man stepped out of a parked car. It was Jim
Hodges, Skips backup. He only looked at her inquiringly, letting her
know he was there, but giving her the option of ignoring him. She
shook her head slightly; absurd though it seemed even to her, she
didn't want to upset Tricia any further.

She spoke very softly, patting Tricia's back. "Hey,
Trish, it's okay. Come on, I'll take you home now. Everything's
okay."

"I can't go home. Don't you understand? I can't
leave here. I've got to have what I came for." She sat down on
the pavement and began sobbing hysterically.

Skip looked helplessly at Toni. "Listen, she's
an old friend. You go on home. I'll take care of her."

But Tricia yelled, "No! Toni, help me. Where
else can I go?"

Skip said to Toni: "Go." And she went.

Tricia lay down and started to roll around. "Oh,
goddammit. Oh, nooooooo. Nooooooo. Oh, goddammit, noooooo."

Now there was no choice. She said, "Jim, let's
get her out of here." When they bent to pick her up, she kicked
and struck out with her hands.

Jim said, "You stop that now, or we gon' have to
hurt you," and Skip winced.

"She's a friend of mine, Jim. If you get her
legs, I'll get her arms."

He held her legs down while Skip handcuffed her. It
happened so fast it was done before Tricia realized it. She turned
wild eyes on her friend and hollered in amazement. "Skippy!"

"Let's get in the car."

She put up no more resistance. When they were all
three in the car, Tricia in the backseat, crying softly, Skip said,
"Tricia, what are you on right now?"

She shook her head violently. "Nothing! Nothing!
That's the problem."

"
What do you need?"

"Why do you want to know? So you can get me
some?"

"
I want to know if you're about to go into
shock. Let me see your arms." At least she could check for
needle marks.

"Oh, forget it. Nothing's wrong with me a little
crystal won't fix."

Methamphetamine. Skip wasn't sure what would happen
if she didn't get some. She said to Jim, "Let's take her to
Charity."

"You don't have to do that. I'm fine."

For now, she looked fine and sounded fine.

"You weren't fine a minute ago."

"
I got upset, that's all."

"You're sure you're okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

Skip had walked over to Kurt's. She said, "Jim,
I'll take her home if you'll drop us at my house."

"No problem. I'll take y'all." She'd been
pretty sure he'd say that. Jim was a sweetie—one of her favorite
officers to work with; she knew he didn't want to leave her alone
with a woman this volatile, and she was glad of it. Tricia might
behave in front of a stranger.

Skip looked at Tricia. "What's your address?"

"
I don't want to go home."

"Where do you want to go?"

"
Here."

"
Tricia, I'm talking to you as a friend, not a
police officer. I'm worried about you. If you go in there right now,
something might happen. Maya's got some not very nice friends. They
wouldn't think twice about beating you up if you make another scene."

"That's none of your business."

Skip sighed. "I guess you're right."

She got out of the front seat, let Tricia out, and
took the handcuffs off. Immediately, Tricia started to kick her.
"Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! How dare you handcuff
me? Fuck you!"

Skip had her turned around and under control before
Jim even managed to get out of the car. She pushed her up against it
and cuffed her again, aware they were putting on a show for Maya and
her pals.

When all three were again in the car, she said,
"Okay, Jim, let's go to Charity."

"
Don't want to go to Charity! Goddammit, you
can't take me to Charity!"

"You listen to me, Tricia Lattimore. You just
assaulted a police officer. I could take you to jail if I want to. Do
you understand what you did?"

The jagged sobs started again. ''Oh, goddamrnit. Oh,
goddammit. I need Darryl. Oh, please, goddammit; take me to Darryl.
Please, please, Skippy."

Darryl Boucree was Tricia's best friend, the
bartender at the place where they both worked. Skip knew him well.

"
What's his address? He's Uptown, isn't he? Jim,
I'll take her."

"He's moved." Tricia gave them an address
on Mandeville, in the Faubourg Marigny.

Jim didn't say a word, just started driving.

The house was an unusual one for the neighborhood, a
raised cottage with a front porch, larger than most. Skip saw it was
a double. She rang the bell on the left, and in a moment Darryl
answered. He was a light-skinned black man, handsome, but that wasn't
the main thing—he had a whippety kind of energy, a fast, easy charm
that Skip found close to irresistible. She could see a glow in the
living room, probably from candlelight. He must have a date.