rotation. He stil wore the wide bone bracelets that had made him famous. Their color complemented his khaki cargo pants, which hugged hips and thighs with the long, slender shape reserved for an endurance runner. My old adversary might spend his weekends jamming with his buds, but it looked to me like Monday morning found him pounding down the miles at his local track.
I couldn’t even get my feet to move. Because, you know, what if I pissed him off? Again? I knew exactly what he was capable of pul ing off these days. And I hadn’t lied to Cassandra when I said I’d changed. Now it did matter what happened if he decided to reach into one of his pockets, pul out a pinch of
He rose from his seat, slow and lazy, just another guy who’s ready to nap after a good meal. But I knew he was a cheetah. If the mood took him he could tear territorial intruders into pieces so smal even the vultures would snub them.
Monique stood too, looking confused. He put her at ease with his let’s-share-stories grin. “We have company,” he said.
“We do?”
“She’s cowering behind the banana plant.”
Monique rushed into the awkward silence with the grace of a born party planner. “Your friend arrived early this morning,” she told me. “He said you were expecting him?” She raised her eyebrow just enough to let me know that under the civilized veneer lurked a she-bear ful y capable of throwing the guy into the gutter if he turned out to be an asshole.
“Yeah, I… yes, I invited him. I was thinking he could room with Mr. Berggia. I’m just surprised to see him so soon.” So how do you greet a guy who—
wore a smal white scar on his forehead because of you? I said, “Thanks for coming, Sterling.”
Sterling said, “It’s been a while… Madame Berggia.”
“Yup.” I held out my hand. “Thanks for coming.” I waited.
When he shook it, I felt an extra slap on top of the jolt that always hit me when I touched him, which I’d only done this time to show my genuine appreciation. I looked at our linked hands and noticed his pinky ring. Nothing fancy, just a silver band with some deep black engraving. But my Sensitivity told me it was just as powerful as the amulet and bracelets. The hairs on the back of my neck only began to lie down after I pul ed my hand away. Which was when I felt like I could breathe again. So, apparently, could Monique.
Her sigh actual y left a mist on my cheek.
Sterling said, “Cassandra told me you’re offering to pony up a new trumpet.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise. “I figured you’d put me on a hunt for your favorite whiskey instead.”
“Naw.” He pointed to the pocket where he knew I kept my cash. “This job’s gonna cost you more than booze, Chil .” So he hadn’t forgotten my nickname.
“Fine, you want a trumpet? You got one.”
“I’ve changed instruments. It’s al part of my ten-year plan. Now you’re going to have to buy me a guitar.”
“Deal.”
“I’m not finished negotiating.”
“Oh?”
Granny May, back in her outdoor sewing chair, stabbed her needle into the material like she wanted to draw blood.
I said, “What else do you want?”
He smiled, ducking his head so we could stare straight into each other’s eyes. “
“How long?”
“Twenty-four hours.”
“Are you out of your goddamn mind? How am I gonna
—”
He backed away, his hips twisting slightly, as if he was moving to tango music played too low for uninitiated ears like mine. He said, “Not my problem. You want my help, those are my terms. Your move, Chil .”
Monique’s eyes moved from Sterling to me as if she was watching a slow-motion Ping-Pong match. Her hand had stolen to her lips, where she gnawed a fingernail, waiting for my reply. Geez, what would
