The Night of the Flood by E.A. Aymar

Author:E.A. Aymar
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

Simple.

One night, Betty and the boy were at the Laundromat, which meant I was face-deep in Diana.

“You’re a quiet man,” Diana said, pulling my head away from her body by yanking hard on my hair. I liked how she was rough with me.

“’Cuz I like when you talkin’, honey,” I said. “Tell me what’s got you so hot and bothered about this Maggie girl.” I’d waited a couple of days to ask, until she was comfortable with me. Diana had already figured on Betty telling me about the dam plan and all, but I hadn’t yet pushed Diana for the reason why and the who. Diana dropped my face back into her chest. My legs sprawled long across the rest of her king bed. The amber lights of her room were dimmed and they flickered like candle light with every whir of the ceiling fan. Diana liked the air in her home to be moving all the time, in every room, “like we’re floating on sea breezes,” she said.

She remained quiet, exhaled hard into my scalp a couple of times. I figured she was wondering whether she could tell me what had her so spun up, what would compel her to compel a group of women to blow up a dam in her name, even though none of them, even her closest daughter, knew why.

“Quiet man, you’re quiet, but you’ve got the tough questions, alright.”

I looked up and stared into her eyes. But know this. I don’t never go lookin’ into no one’s eyes, unless I’m about to slice them up right quick and I’m looking for the moment when they realize they dying and their soul floats to the surface for some final plea. But I know a lady. And I know ladies are susceptible to men like me, staring in their eyes, two inches away, and especially if the man got sapphire eyes and a Southern drawl, like I do. These are my natural weapons. So I used them.

Diana’s eyelids flashed, slow closed and slow opened, and her pupils got all whoozy and wide, like she drugged. I laid it on thicker, by staring longer and saying, “Now, hold on, darling, I just like to hear you talk. And I’d love to relieve what’s weighin’ on your mind, by you talking ’bout it, and me listening. Your secret’s safe with me,” I said, in the most sickeningly slow Southern charm you ever did hear.

“Oh boy, you’re good,” she said. I bounced my head, still staring, showing I was a good listener. “Alright then, I don’t mind telling you, but you can’t go and tell Betty.”

I smiled is all, indicating it was funny to suggest I’d hold a secret with Betty over Diana. Truth is, I would have. But Betty didn’t know nothing. Just a cog in a wheel meant to blow up a dam for her mama.

“Thing is,” Diana said. “Maggie’s father’s to blame.”

I furrowed my brow. “Hmm,” I said.

“That’s right. The newspaper’s say the police questioned him, and then he ran off and run away he’s so distraught.

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