Poughkeepsie (24 page)

Blake seemed preoccupied with a pile of pink napkins the table’s previous occupants had left behind. Livia smiled at him, trying to gauge how he was feeling in this bizarre setting, which probably bordered on surreal for him. Blake met her eyes and ran one of the napkins through his fingers.

The music was so loud, all Livia could do was mouth, “Are you okay?”

Blake nodded. “You’re beautiful,” he mouthed in response.

Livia blushed, and when the music cut off abruptly, Livia blushed more deeply. She knew what was next.

Kyle’s voice, magnified by a microphone, echoed through the club. “Livia McHugh, get your ass out here and dance with me.” Then a speaker-blowing electric guitar riff jumped out of Livia’s childhood and into her ears.

“Oh, crap.” Livia shook her head.

“Livia, if you love me, you’ll dance with me,” Kyle taunted.

Blake looked both amused and slightly concerned as the crowd around Kyle began clapping and chanting “Li-vi-a! Li-vi-a!”

Beckett unleashed an ear-piercing whistle, followed by a round of hooting.

“Excuse me,” Livia mouthed to Blake and stood up.

Blake rose as well, and it took her a moment to realize he was getting up because she had. When she walked away, he resumed his seat. As Livia reluctantly stepped onto the wood floor, Kyle came at her with a running jump. Her eyes were hooded and glazed, and she hung onto Livia like a leather-clad koala bear.

“Do the routine for me. Please, Livie. I love you. I’m sorry I poisoned your boyfriend. I’m the one who made him so cute, though. You have to forgive me, Livia. I’m so bad.” Kyle looked close to tears.

“He barfed and now he’s fine,” Livia said. “You know I love you, and you’re not bad, you just make bad choices. Do I still have to do the routine?”

Kyle smiled and wrinkled her nose. “Oh, yes. The routine must happen. Assume the position.”

Kyle bounced out of Livia’s arms and gave Lorraine what must have been the universal hand gesture for
I just tricked my sister into humiliating herself. Start the music before she runs.

The opening bars of the familiar song once again vibrated to life. It was very easy to dance with Kyle; she never forgot a step and could cover for her partner’s mistakes. In this case she’d been doing it since the fifth grade, thanks to her odd penchant for classic rock and her ability to get Livia to do whatever she wanted. The audience heckled the very juvenile dance routine, and Livia smiled at her sister while plotting to fill her breakfast orange juice with liquid laxative. The dance ended with three cartwheels in a row from Kyle while the less gymnastically inclined Livia waved frantic jazz hands.

Thankfully the music shifted seamlessly and the dancefloor filled again after the embarrassing routine was over. Livia continued dancing near her sister while stealing looks at Blake, whose attention was either on Livia or the napkin in his hand. Eventually, as always happened, Livia grew tired before Kyle showed any signs of slowing down.

“I’m sitting down,” she shouted to Kyle and pointed at the table.

Kyle nodded and danced away, dismissing Livia with a wave of her hand. Livia made her way back to the Beckett-jacked table, and Blake watched her as if she were crossing a tricky, ice-covered river. Livia tried not to trip as he stood when she came to the table. He held her chair as she sat and then resumed his own seat. He leaned toward her, and Livia put her feet on his chair.

“You’re beautiful.” Blake said hello as he’d said goodbye.

“You said that already,” Livia mouthed over the banging music.

Blake just shrugged. He flashed Livia a shy smile and held out the pink napkin to her. He’d turned it into a beautiful, perfect rose bud with a single leaf. Livia took the rose from his hand and turned it over carefully. He’d pinched tiny thorns into the paper stem. Livia put it to her nose as if to smell it. She realized he was waiting.

“You’re beautiful,” Livia mouthed. She would have hugged the rose if it weren’t so delicate. She hugged him instead.

With her ear so close, Blake was able to murmur into it. “May I have this dance?”

Livia giggled as the room vibrated with a rhythm they could feel. Blake stood and very seriously held out his hand. Livia couldn’t imagine turning him down, even if she had to figure out how to grind in time with the beat, but Blake had his own idea. He didn’t lead her to the dancefloor. Blake took her deeper into the corner behind their table.

With the pink rose cradled carefully in their combined hands, Blake and Livia began a slow dance to music only they could hear. Livia danced to the symphony she heard flowing out of the church window the night she found out he could play. She opened her eyes to see Blake’s serene face. She wondered if he danced to music he was composing in his head at this very moment—music that had not yet been played.

Livia and Blake danced like they were alone, not stuck in a blaring, sweaty night club.

Beckett eyed them as he lounged on three chairs he’d shoved together into a hard, uncomfortable couch.
They’re so fucking innocent. They don’t have a clue why I showed up here tonight.
If there hadn’t been an obnoxiously repeating Tweet about them, he certainly wouldn’t have come to this craphole no matter who was here. He scrolled through his text messages and found a new one from Eve.

This ur homeless brother?

She’d attached a picture of Blake slumped in the shade with a fresh red welt on his face. He was not looking at the camera. Some brain-dead mouth-breather had added a point total at the bottom of the pic:

Pennies Thrown: 34 Pennies Landed: 23

Beckett rubbed his hand over his mouth to hold his anger in.

He rarely did the killing himself anymore, but the photographer and the Photoshop artist would feel the full extent of his talent. Pennies would be used in every torture he could imagine, and Beckett had an extremely active imagination. He was currently contemplating how many sizzling-hot pennies could fit on the surface of one human’s skin. Branding their eyes shut would be the very last step, and the smell of burning skin would be his reward. Beckett ran a hand through his hair.
Patience.
If he spooked them, he’d never find them.

Beckett surveyed the crowd that had gathered around him. He caused a stir wherever he went nowadays, probably because he provided the resources for lots of experimenting among the poor souls of Poughkeepsie. There wasn’t a vice Beckett couldn’t supply, and the evils he offered were the highest quality. Beckett smiled at his past and future customers with both his dimples. No need to feel alarmed, his smile told them. The devil always had the biggest welcome mat at his door.

But all the while Beckett smiled and entertained with his filthy mouth and shameless flirting, he kept a watchful eye on Blake and Livia. The other picture Eve had sent to his phone was a doctored picture of Whitebread. She rocked at least double Ds in the picture, uncovered to boot, but Beckett put her at a B+ at best, and she seemed like the least likely girl in any room to pose for a nude photo. He was an expert.

Someone out there was tracking those two, so The Maxi Pad was now on unofficial lockdown, courtesy of his crew, and Eve was doing her best to track where the Tweet with the photos had originated. Beckett found himself grateful that Mouse was woman enough to frequent the ridiculous site. Eve reported that he’d found the picture floating on one of his knitter friend’s daughter’s page.

Beckett glanced over at the dancefloor. Fairy Princess was whore-bagging it out hard core. She could dance—he’d give her that—but she had the eyes of a veteran prostitute ten minutes before she retired for good.

“Merkin!” Beckett called over one of his minions.

Merkin could melt into any crowd. People never remembered he’d been there. He also had an unfortunate toupee, hence Beckett’s loving nickname.

“Boss.” Merkin arrived and awaited command.

“See that cute little fucking dancer? Get a shot of her when she’s smashed between a few dudes.” Beckett flipped his phone in Merkin’s direction.

Merkin nodded and slipped away. Beckett watched as he did some extremely white-man dancing to get close to the circle of guys closing in on Kyle. She was grinding against three men while she sucked on her finger seductively. After checking that the shot was clear, Merkin retreated and handed the phone back to Beckett, ensconced in his cluster of hangers-on.

“Thanks, you fucking muffin fluffer.” Beckett started his inaccurate texting as Merkin dissolved again into the crowd:

Hey# Cole U stuypid monk ur girll iz going dowen like the Hindenburg.
We r at the Maxzi %Pad

Beckett ordered a round of watered-down drinks for the fools around him. He threw in a request for a couple bottled waters for fucking Romeo and Juliet. They might get thirsty, even in their own damn world. His brother was lost in Livia, twirling her hair around his finger like he was making a magic fucking wand out of it.

Beckett watched Livia look up at Blake and realized she was just as lost in him. He decided right then to set the two of them with a beautiful life together. Blake would have to agree. He’d want his woman to have the best, and Beckett could give them that—maybe somewhere far away so none of Beckett’s shitload of evil would ever touch them. In his head Beckett put the two of them in a big snow globe with glitter that he could shake when he wanted them to fucking sparkle together.
Perfect in their condo with a dog and a kid and glitter.

Blake turned to lead Livia back to their chairs, which Beckett had noticed were clogged up now with other people’s asses. Beckett nodded to Mouse who carefully put down his fucking knitting, grabbed two poor bastards by the backs of their shirts, and tossed them to the floor. Blake shook his head at Beckett’s lack of manners but held the chair out for Livia. She sat and smiled at Beckett like he was a guest at her freaking wedding.
She’s so damn happy.

Blake accepted the two water bottles from a server with a nod of gratitude. He opened his first and handed it to Livia, taking her unopened one as his own. She bit her lip and smiled.

Simple shit makes this chick crap bubbles and rainbows.
Beckett shook his head, rattling his mental snow globe again as his phone buzzed. He looked at his phone to find a text from Eve:

I’m here

She was a woman of few words. Beckett gave the club another scan, and Kyle’s continued frantic dancing caught his attention.
Fairy Princessfuckingrella is kicking her slutting up a notch
.

He saw Livia tense out of the corner of his eye.
Shit. Kyle’s going to ruin their night together.

Fairy Princess was flexing like a yoga instructor with an IV drip full of Red Bull and lion piss. There was a circle about two dudes deep around her, all with their cocks pointed like they were water sticks and she was Niagara Falls. Beckett had to put an end to this shit. He stood.

He heard Livia’s voice as he waded through the assholes and headed for the gyrating nightmare. “Blake, what’s he going to do?”

He faintly heard his brother’s reply. “Beckett won’t hurt her. Don’t worry.”

Faith
. Blake had all the faith in the world in him. All these new, different people to protect were starting to scare him.
How many fucking people will I have to beat the shit out of to keep them all happy and safe?

Beckett hit the dance floor just as a brain-melting new song came on. He let out a perfect imitation of a circa-1992 Michael Jackson scream. The people bouncing on the dance floor turned around, even the wall of men surrounding Kyle.

A slow grin spread across his face, and he danced like he was born to do it. He embodied the beat, and the people who had turned for his scream now stayed for the show.

He stopped in the center of the dancefloor and slowly rotated his hips. He pointed at Kyle and called her out. “Dance with me, baby!”

The dancer in Kyle couldn’t turn him down, and she sauntered over. He grabbed her by the waist, and Beckett and Kyle made dancing an Olympic sport. She would give and he would take; he would give and she would take. Kyle turned up the heat by adding some ballet leaps, daring Beckett to match her. His smile grew broader as he caught her smoothly, again and again, begging Kyle’s body to do the impossible. Whirling as if partners for life, they complemented and contrasted each other like vodka and tonic.