The Wicked City by Beatriz Williams

Author:Beatriz Williams [Beatriz Williams]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2016-12-08T05:00:00+00:00

12

ANYWAY. JULIE arranges the scene and Anatole takes the photographs, and I hang around waiting while they process the film into negatives and that kind of thing, just in case there was a fly on the lens or whatever else. You’d be surprised what can ruin a good photograph of a naked woman.

By the time Julie’s satisfied, it’s past nine o’clock, and she’s got some engagement uptown, and Anatole and I find ourselves sharing a table at the Christopher Club. It’s the same table I used to share with sweet Billy-boy, right in front of the jazz orchestra, and I’m starting to develop that kind of restless itch in my middle that always leads to trouble. On top of that, I’ve got something to say to Anatole that requires a certain amount of lubrication.

“I’m done,” I say. Setting down the whiskey, kerthump.

“Done, my love? Done with what?” He’s sitting far too close, and I guess I’m letting him. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the absence of Billy, maybe it’s the presence of whiskey. Maybe because I haven’t received any parcels in a week, nor any kind of message from River Junction, and there’s a fellow nursing a lowball glass at the bar right now who followed us here all the way from Hudson Street.

“Why, done with posing for you. I’m turning a new leaf.”

Anatole frowns. “Does this concern that boy you are sleeping with?”

“In the first place, I’m not sleeping with him. In the second place, if I were, it’s none of your business. And thirdly, since you’re asking, no. It’s got nothing to do with him.” I turn my gaze to the bar and the fellow hunched over his drink. My old friend Millie the Vamp sits atop her usual stool, long legged and somber tonight in a fringed black dress, plucking a languid olive from her martini. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t seen the fellow since January.”

Anatole lays a hand over mine. “What a shame.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He was nothing but a nuisance, really. A college kid.”

“No, I mean a shame that you want to stop posing for us.”

“Oh. Well, it’s served its purpose. I’ve got enough dough saved up, and the fact is …” My attention drifts to Bruno’s small jazz orchestra, ruminating some theme, Bruno on the bass and four others, drums and trombone and trumpet and a clarinet player I haven’t noticed before, running up and down a minor scale with all the mesmeric dexterity of a squirrel ferrying acorns to a hidden den.

“The fact is what, dear?”

“The fact is … the fact …”

There’s something about that clarinet player, isn’t there? Dressed in a neat dinner jacket and a hat slung low on his forehead. Bristling mustache a shade or two darker than the golden-brown hair shining forth below the crown of his hat. In the course of a complicated riff, he tilts his head back a bit, lifting the shadow of his hat brim from his eyes, and his midnight gaze meets mine.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.