Out of the Easy (35 page)

Everyone laughed. But Dora started to cry. Tears ran down her face. “She was a good woman, and so many of us will be just lost without her. Please don’t let her be put to rest in some quiet, boring way. That wasn’t Willie. Cornbread, get up here and tell about the time Willie drove over your leg. Elmo, tell how Willie would test the mattresses to know if they were good enough for the game. Come on, y’all, please.”

The tension in the room cracked. People stood up and told stories about Willie, about her generosity, warm heart, and cold exterior. I had so much to say but couldn’t do it. Finally Sadie stood up. She looked around the room and quietly placed both hands on her heart.

I lost all composure. The woman who had never spoken a word in her life said more than any of us could.

Galatoire’s buzzed like it was New Year’s Eve. A large framed picture of Willie stood on a stand in the back of the restaurant. It was so noisy, so crowded, and I was so tired. Patrick had sent a telegram. His condolences left me hollow and sad. Evangeline walked through the crowd sucking a Shirley Temple through a straw. She stopped in front of me.

“So, would you ever do it?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I can’t follow in my mother’s footsteps.”

“Not turning tricks. I mean would you ever take over for Willie? Be our madam.”

I looked at Evangeline. She had to be joking. “What? No, I could never. I’m nothing like Willie.”

She snorted in disgust. “You’re a lot like Willie. She’d want you to take her place.” Evangeline stared me down. “She loved you best, you know.” She returned her lips to the straw and sauntered off in the direction of Dora’s laughter, a piece of toilet paper trailing from her heel.

“Hey, Motor City.”

I turned around. “Hi, Jesse. Have you been here the whole time?” I asked.

“Nah, I just came to see if you needed rescuing.” He smiled. His white dress shirt was untucked at the waist. His cuffed denims and boots had replaced his funeral wear.

“It’s been a long couple of days,” I said.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

FIFTY-SEVEN

We walked, silent. I was relieved to escape the din of the restaurant. Jesse handed me a stick of chewing gum. I gratefully accepted.

He stopped. “Hey, can I show you something?”

“Sure.”

“Close your eyes. Keep ’em closed.”

I stood with my eyes closed on the sidewalk. The sound of a door creaked and then Jesse took me by the hand.

“Now, don’t open your eyes until I tell you to. Keep ’em closed.” We walked a bit, and I tried not to stumble. We finally stopped, and I heard a clicking noise.

“Okay, open them.”

In front of me was the most beautiful car I had ever seen. It was a deep pomegranate, like Willie’s nails, with a finish so shiny I could see myself in it.

“Jesse, it’s incredible.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. It’s so beautiful.”

He ran around to the passenger side and opened the door. “Hop in.”

The tan leather interior was smooth and flawless. Jesse got in behind the wheel.

“It took a long time, but she’s almost ready to drive.” He looked over at me, half of his mouth pulled up in a smile. “I’m taking you out, you know.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, on a date. Once it’s finished and running.”

“Who cares if it’s running? We can be like Ray and Frieda and pretend we’re driving.” I leaned back in the seat. “Where are we going on our date?”

“To Swindell Hollow,” he replied without hesitation.

“Where’s that?”

“It’s where I’m from, in Alabama.”

So we drove to Swindell Hollow. The quiet was blissful, Jesse quiet. I laid my head back and closed my eyes. I imagined the two-lane highway rolling under the tires and the breeze sliding in through the open window, lifting the ends of my hair. I felt New Orleans pass behind us, the gray net lifting, the sky becoming lighter, the trees greener.

“I owe you an apology,” I finally said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I started in about the debt to Carlos Marcello. Jesse took his hands off the wheel and turned to me. “I kinda know all about it,” he said. “Willie told me when I worked on her car. She was waiting for you to come to her. But you didn’t.”

“So you know all about it. I feel silly,” I said.

“Don’t feel silly. Just tell me something I don’t know.”

“Hmm, let’s see. Did you know that the day I saw you with your friends, I was on my way to earn fifteen hundred dollars from that sleaze John Lockwell? Well, I chickened out, threw my shoes at him, and pulled a gun on him instead.”

“I didn’t like those shoes,” said Jesse.

“Oh, and did you know that I met that Memphis tourist the day he died in the Quarter? He came into the bookshop and bought two books. He was so kind and nice I created him as my make-believe hero dad. Did you know that?”

Jesse shook his head.

“What else . . . oh, and then I found his wristwatch under my mom’s bed and for some strange reason became completely attached to it. The night you saw me at the river, I wasn’t there to meet Patrick. I was going to throw the watch in and sink it. But then I couldn’t and broke down and cried. So I buried it out at Shady Grove, even though the police were looking for it.”

I peeked at Jesse, expecting disgust or shock. He just nodded.

“Next, I bet you didn’t know that I got a big fat rejection letter from Smith. And instead of inviting me to be a student, they attached a letter from some spinster writer who’s asking me to come clean her house in Northampton.”

Jesse perked up.

“That’s humiliating, but not as humiliating as my new friend Charlotte finding out from her cousin here in New Orleans that she’s invited the daughter of a prostitute to her summer home in the Berkshires.”

I took a breath and looked at Jesse. “God, that felt so good.”

He slid over toward me.

“Yeah? You likin’ Alabama so far?”

“Loving Alabama.” Thousands of pounds lifted from my shoulders and flew out the window of Jesse’s car.

“Is that all you got?” asked Jesse.

“Nope. Here’s one to add to the humiliation pile. Not only am I the daughter of a prostitute, I’m named after one. Josie Arlington, brothel madam, had a five-dollar house on Basin Street. For an extra fee, she offered some kind of French sex circus. And I’m named after her.”

“Ding!” Jesse hit a nonexistent bell in front of us. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a match. The two kids both have hand-me-down names of the ill repute.” Jesse turned to me. “But actually, I win. You’re named after a madam. I’m named after a murderer. So mine’s worse.”

My mouth fell open.

“Yeah, my criminal of a father named me Jesse, after Jesse James. Told me to grow up a good outlaw and live up to my name. I tell ya, I really hope that my father never meets your mother.”

“Have you ever thought of changing your name?”

“Nah, Jesse Thierry is who I am.”

“I want to change mine. Willie said I should change my last name.”

“Last name might be a good idea, but don’t change Josie,” he said.

“No?”

“Nope.” He fiddled with a knob on the dash. “I like the way it feels when I say it.”

The cuff on Jesse’s white dress shirt was open at the wrist. I reached for it and slowly began folding it back. He stared at my hands as they touched his forearm. My fingers didn’t ball into a fist, just trailed lightly up and down his skin. He looked at me. I looked right back.

“Okay,” I said. “Your turn. What don’t I know about Jesse Thierry?” 

“What don’t you know?” Jesse slid his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “Maybe that I really wanna kiss you right now.”

FIFTY-EIGHT

“We don’t have a choice. Willie’s attorney has requested us. He has questions,” I said.

“Well, it makes me nervous,” said Cokie. “I don’t want to go sittin’ with no lawyer rattlin’ ’bout Willie. Willie never liked no one talkin’ ’bout her business, and I ain’t about to start now, even if she gone. So I’m not sayin’ nothin’. We’ll let Sadie do all the talkin’.”

Sadie reached forward from the back of the cab and swatted Cokie across the side of the head. Sadie was nervous too. She and Cokie both had their church clothes on and had been bickering since we got in the cab. I was more than nervous, but not about the attorney. The law office was in the Hibernia Bank Building, one floor below John Lockwell’s office. Just the thought of him brought bile to the back of my throat. I had pushed the meeting with the attorney back two weeks but couldn’t delay it any longer.

We walked into the lobby, and I fished the letter out of my purse. Cokie looked over my shoulder.

“Edward Rosenblatt, Esquire. Sounds well-to-do. Willie wouldn’t be messin’ with no ritzy lawyer.”

I shushed him, and we all got in the elevator.

Inside, I felt the same as Cokie. Willie wouldn’t mess with a bank, so she certainly wouldn’t do business with some rich lawyer. I had made a vow. I wasn’t going to reveal anything about Willie. They could torture me, threaten me, I wouldn’t do it. Don’t worry, Willie, I won’t let the vultures in.

We arrived on the seventh floor. Cokie pulled off his cap and began kneading it through his hands. He and Sadie stood back near the elevator. I approached the desk and told the receptionist we had arrived for our appointment. Within minutes, a woman appeared.

“Mr. Rosenblatt will see you now.”

I waved Cokie and Sadie forward. We walked through a maze of typists. Sadie’s eyes were as round as pancakes, taking in the upscale business environment. The woman directed us to an office. Three chairs were placed in front of a long desk.

“Mr. Rosenblatt will be right with you. Please make yourselves comfortable.”

Cokie didn’t want to sit down. I gave him the evil eye and pointed to a chair. The office was lovely, with oak paneling and a large wall of bookshelves with impressive sets of law volumes. Sadie nudged my arm and pointed to two pictures in sterling frames—one of an older woman, the other a photo of a large family.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” An elegant gentleman with gray hair entered the room and shut the door behind him. He had round spectacles and looked like the type who would smoke a pipe while watching polo matches. I thought I recognized him from the funeral.

“I’m Ed Rosenblatt. You must be Mr. Coquard?” He extended his hand to Cokie for a handshake. “And you must be Miss Moraine and Miss Vibert. A pleasure to meet you.” He walked around to his desk and sat down in the tufted leather chair. He pulled a file folder in front of him. “Let’s get started then, shall we?” He looked up at us and smiled. It seemed genuine, warm.

“First, Miss Vibert, I’m aware of your vocal affliction, so I’ll keep our exchanges as direct as possible. I’d like to offer my condolences to all of you. I’m sure you’re quite bereaved over Willie’s passing.”

“Yes, sir, I am,” said Cokie. “So I don’t mean no disrespect, but I don’t want to be asked about Willie’s private business. She wouldn’t have it.” Sadie nodded emphatically.

Mr. Rosenblatt looked from Cokie to Sadie and finally to me.

“Willie was a very private person, and we’d like to honor that,” I explained.

“I think your loyalty is exactly why you’re here. Let me explain something. I’ve known Willie since I was four years old. We came up together in the Quarter, along with Dr. Sully and a few others. In fact, when I was five, I decided that I wanted to marry Willie, but she wouldn’t have any of it. She called me Rosie and said I was a fancy pants. She said instead of marriage, she’d like to be in business with me because she thought I was smart. You can imagine her at five years old, hand on her hip, finger in my face, making this business arrangement, can’t you?”

I smiled. I could absolutely imagine it, the spicy little girl I saw in the photo hidden at Shady Grove.

“So there we were. Willie, Sully, and Rosie, a French Quarter version of the Three Musketeers.” The attorney placed his hands on the desk. “But something happened when we were about twelve. Willie changed. She would do anything to keep from going home. Sully and I suspected her father.”

I thought of Willie telling me that fathers were overrated, that mine was probably some creep.