Angel City by Jon Steele

Author:Jon Steele [Steele, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780399158759
Amazon: 0399158758
Publisher: Blue Rider Press
Published: 2013-06-04T07:00:00+00:00

III

CAN I TOSS IN A PRINCESS?”

“A what?”

“A princess.”

“Why do you need a princess in the story?”

Katherine tipped her head toward Max without looking at him.

“Because I don’t want to say the H word in front of you-know-who.”

Officer Jannsen, at first captivated by the story so far, was lost. “The H word?”

Katherine rolled her eyes, her mouth slowly forming the word hooker.

“Ah, I’m with you now. In that case, I think a princess would be fine.”

“Great.”

Katherine tried to remember where she’d left off with her story. She’d set the stage. Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a strange and wonderful young man lived in the belfry of a cathedral and watched over the land through the night. He watched for fires and invaders and bad shadows. And he wore a black hat and black cloak and he carried a very old lantern.

“And I’ll tell you a secret. It was this very same lantern.”

Max’s eyes widened, watching the fire at the tip of the lantern’s candle.

“And you know what else?”

Max looked at his mother. She moved slowly toward him, and she smiled.

“The strange young man had a cat. A big, fat, furry cat. And the cat’s name was Monsieur Booty.”

Max looked at the furry beast sitting on the stool just outside the bars of the crib, the beast Max had by the tail.

“Boo!” he said.

“That’s right, Boo is in the story, too! Isn’t that funny?”

Max giggled, certifying that the coincidence was very funny, indeed.

“Okay, so. One night, this strange young man—”

“Excuse me, Kat?”

Katherine put her hand on her hip and regarded Officer Jannsen with mock horror.

“Oh, what now?”

“Shouldn’t he have a name?”

“Who?”

“The strange young man in the belfry.”

Katherine thought about it.

“Okay. Anything else?”

“Non.”

“You sure? Because you’re really throwing me off my method.”

“Your what?”

“My method. It’s an acting school thing.”

“You were in acting school?”

“Took a couple classes at UCLA before I dropped out and became a you-know-what.”

Officer Jannsen smiled that half smile of hers.

“Je comprend.”

“Good. Can I go on now? I’d like to finish the story before Max hits puberty.”

“Excusez-moi, mon petit canard.”

“Okay. So, once upon a time, faraway land, strange young man, and his name was . . . What did you just say?”

“I said, ‘Excuse me.’”

“No, after that.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Anne, you just called me your little duck.”

“Comme ça?”

Katherine saw Officer Jannsen’s pale white skin flush with color. Mon petit canard did mean my little duck. Katherine also knew it was a term of affection among the French, who had a habit of referring to loved ones as cats, pigs, chickens, eggs, and/or fleas. And the more petit any of them was, the deeper the affection. Katherine realized why Officer Jannsen was blushing and, realizing it, she felt her own stomach do flip-flops again.

She quickly looked at Max. He and Monsieur Booty had been going back and forth between the two women as if watching a game of tennis. Not knowing the rules or how the game was played, but knowing a game of some sort was being played, and it was most entertaining to watch.

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