The Take (9 page)

Eddie,
Felina, and Garner were shown to a table. As soon as they ordered drinks, Eddie
said, “I’ll be right back. I gotta make a phone call.”

He
stepped out into the small, smart lobby with his cell phone and dialed a
number. A woman answered.

“Hey,
Linda. This’s Eddie.”

“Eddie?
Eddie? What —” She made no attempt to mask her surprise. “What the hell —”

“I didn’t
know if you were playing tonight or what. I was hoping I’d catch you at home.”

“Yeah,
I’m playing tonight. Just getting ready to go in. But what the hell’s going on?
Is it Christmas already?”

He
slipped into his friendliest gear. “Hey, can’t a guy call his sister if he
happens to be in town?”

“You’re
in New Orleans? What’re you doing over here?”

He just
had to melt her suspicions. He knew what a tough trick that would be. She’d
always been sharp-eyed and quick,
a lot quicker than he, even when they were growing up.

She had
just turned fourteen when their mother died, so she had to take charge.
Cooking, cleaning, taking care of Eddie, and of course going to school and
waiting tables — it all honed her feminine softness to a steely edge.

Her musical
talent didn’t really develop for another three or four years. It had to wait
around while she learned so early the painful lessons of adulthood. But when
she finally sat down at a piano, it all seemed to just flow out of her, like
water from a downturned canteen.

“Well,”
Eddie said, “we were just out driving, and I got to thinking I haven’t seen you
since, uh … when’s the last time you was back in Houston? About a couple of
years ago? Anyway, we were out driving, and the next thing you know, here we are.”
He hoped she could hear his smile through the phone.

“We?”

“Yeah.”
He was still smiling. “Me and my new girlfriend. We were just —”

“Okay,
Eddie. Okay. How much this time?”

“No,
no, Linda. You got it all wrong! I don’t need any dough. In fact, I’m fixed for
li — I’m — I’m fixed pretty good right now. What I want to do is
pay you back for what you’ve loaned me over the years.”

“Pay me
back? What the hell are you —“

“I
figure when you add it all up, it must be close to six or seven grand. Let’s
make it an even ten, including the interest.”

Linda
didn’t bite. “Behave yourself, Eddie. You didn’t drive all the way from Houston
just to drop ten Gs in my lap. Now what’s the pitch?”

“No
pitch, Linda! No pitch! I just wanted to pay you back. And I thought maybe we
could stay by you for a few days until we get our bearings. I’m thinking of
leaving Houston.”

“Leaving?
Leaving Houston?””

Why
yeah, I am. I —”

”Eddie,
Eddie, who do you think you’re talking to here?
Outside of a few trips to Beaumont and Galveston, and maybe once or
twice to Dallas, I don’t think you ever been outside Harris County in your
whole life. And now you show up in New Orleans? With ten thousand dollars to
give me? With some girlfriend? Telling me you’re leaving Houston?” Eddie was
silent as she added, “What happened, did you have a good week with your
football business? Now you want to spread a little green around? Is that it?”

This
wasn’t working at all. He just couldn’t slide anything past her. She was … she
was just too much for him. She always had been, and he guessed she always would
be.

Another
short silence slinked into the phone line before Eddie said, “Linda, if I could
explain. Can we come over and I’ll tell you all about it?”

“Well,
right now I’m fixing to go play. I don’t get off till two.”

“Hey,
better yet! We’re eating dinner here right now. Right here at the hotel you
play at. I’m calling you from their lobby, in fact.”

 
“
You’re
eating at the Louis Philippe? In the restaurant there? The King’s Landing?”

“Yeah!
And it’s some ritzy joint, I’m telling you. They got guys in there wearing
tuxedoes and everything. This meal’s gonna cost a fortune.”

“What
in God’s name are you doing in there, little brother? I didn’t think you ever
got too far away from those grease-pit hash holes.”

“Naw, I
know, it’s not exactly my style. But we picked this guy up along the way and
he’s paying — well, I’ll explain everything when I see you. We’ll be
there in a little while.” Then he put on a hoity-toity accent. “After we sip
our brandy, of course.”

They
both laughed a little and hung up. He returned to the dining room, still trying
to believe that everything would work out just fine.

Back at
the table, Garner was spinning tales of New Orleans and its potential for
pleasure. “And believe you me, I’ve been to all the other hot towns —
Vegas, New York, the Coast — and little old New Orleans will still give
you the best damn time you ever had.”

Felina
smiled. “You know, Lowell, I’ve heard that, too. I used to know this man who
came here a lot and he used to say that the only way —”

“And I’ll
tell you something else,” he murmured. He leaned forward over the table, toying
with his thick mustache. His eyes darted left and right, like someone about to
reveal forbidden secrets. “We are sitting right smack in one of the hottest
party palaces in the whole damn state.”

Eddie
and Felina looked around. They saw only elegance. The guy who showed them to
their table looked like he’d been born in that immaculate tux. The soft music
could put people to sleep. It didn’t look like there’d ever been a party held
in this place.

“Oh no,
not in here,” Garner said. “Not in this restaurant. I’m talking about the hotel
itself. And the lounge. The Louis Philippe lounge is known far and wide for
having the prettiest, the most expensive - ah — ladies of the night that
you’re ever gonna find anywhere. That’s one reason why I always stay here
whenever I’m in town.” Having spilled that piece of information, he sat back in
his chair, quite satisfied with himself. He chuckled once. “A first-class
whorehouse right in the middle of one of the top hotels in the South. Ha! How ‘bout
that!”

Eddie
turned to Felina. “I just talked to Linda. It’s all set. She’s playing tonight.
We can go in and hear her when we get done here.”

Felina
nodded. “Of course, Eddie. But perhaps Lowell would like to go along.” She eyed
Garner. “Would you like to come with us, Lowell? We’re going to hear Eddie’s
sister sing and play piano.”

Eddie
made a face. Garner missed it and said, “Why, it’d be a real pleasure, Felina.
I don’t really have any other plans for tonight myself. Shoot, I was probably just
gonna go in there anyway. `Course, I don’t want to be in the way, what with
y’all seeing your sister …”

“Oh
Lowell, you’re not in the way,” said Felina. “We’d love for you to come with
us.”

Sure we would
, thought Eddie.
In your fucking dreams
.

T
he Louis
Philippe lounge was a hot little spot, all right. The fire-engine red grand
piano leapt out of its brick nook along the left side, catching everyone’s eye,
just as it was supposed to. But when Linda sat down to play it, as she did now,
it became merely a rhythmic extension of her singing.

Every
night, people gathered around the piano in large numbers for a taste of her
sexy, white-girl blues. Eddie couldn’t believe the wild response. But as he
drew closer, he felt the old familiar cry in her voice tugging at him the way
it always used to, transporting him back through the long years. The customers
loved her. Out in the lobby the sign read “Appearing nitely, Linda Lavelle,”
but that couldn’t begin to tell the story.

The
music she played was
her
music, done
her way. It had been filtered through all the tough times, all her lonely
teenage nights, when it was just she and Eddie. She was plenty scared during
those nights, but she didn’t want her little brother to know how close to the
edge they really were. So she would take him in her arms, soothing his
anxieties with song.

They
would sit by the window, overlooking the moonlit jumble of ratty courtyards and
clotheslines, while she softly sang what words she could remember — words
to the songs that had come crackling to her that day over her tiny transistor
radio.

She
sang until he fell into peaceful sleep, and even then she wouldn’t stop.
Sometimes, with streaming eyes, she continued as much for her own peace of mind
as for his. Back then it was all she had to give, the only way she knew to
preserve Eddie’s childhood for him. He was so young, so helpless. She just had
to keep him from being corrupted by the fear that had threatened to consume
them both.

Now,
she transformed all her past hardships into a soulful musical style the New
Orleans public lapped right up.

≈≈≈

Eddie scouted the room. Away from the piano, there was another kind of
activity.

Guys in
suits sat on expensive loveseats scattered here and there, sipping drinks. A
few were alone, but most were in groups of two or three. At many of these
tables, the men were in the company of a woman or two.

None of
this looked funny to Eddie. The women looked high-toned, not like whores. They
seemed properly dressed for a night out in a fancy bar — no tight,
street-slut outfits or overdone makeup. The men all appeared to be unwinding
after a hard day at the bank.

Laughter
and high spirits filled the room, while the good times rolled. Everything
gleamed with a kind of alluring polish. Eddie had never actually been in a real
whorehouse before, but he sure didn’t think they looked anything like this. As
a matter of fact, it all reminded him of that one time he was in the lounge of
the Hyatt Regency back in Houston.

Now that was one classy joint.

They
took the last available table. As they sat down, Linda gave Eddie a big smile
from behind the piano during a song, along with a head-gesture hello.

The
waitress came over. Garner gave her a fifty, then said, “Honey, you take twenty
out of here for yourself
and
let us know when the rest is drunk up, okay?”

She
smiled and took their order. Since Garner was buying, Eddie went all the way,
ordering Jim Beam.

As the
drinks arrived, Garner said, “Damn, Eddie, that gal can sing! If I had a place
like this, I’d damn sure never let her go.”

Eddie
didn’t reply. His mind fled to the trunk of the Ford back in the hotel parking
garage.

The
crazy-quilt crowd noise overpowered Linda’s music. The laughing, the drinks,
the clapping, Garner’s endless talking — it just wasn’t right somehow.
All this good-time shit in here, all these people enjoying themselves. They
just didn’t know.

He eyed
the doors that led to the street. Outside those doors — who knows where? —
there were men in frantic pursuit.

Shouldn’t I be on a plane out of the
country or something? No, wait, they got Customs agents in those other
countries, searching your bags and shit.

Well, how about somewhere else in this
country. I mean, shouldn’t I be running right now? Moving? Doing something?
Laying low? Driving to, like, South Dakota or someplace, where Salazar’ll never
find me?

Why am I sitting here right out in the
open? Just a six-hour damn drive from Houston. Felina was right. We should be
on the move … but … but … I gotta see Linda.

I just gotta see her.

The
music escalated. So, eventually, did all the other noise, up and up, in all
keys, major and minor, dominant and relative, louder and faster than before. He
couldn’t feel any letup, until he reached for his shot of bourbon and slammed
it back, ignoring the chaser. It scored.

He
pulled himself together a little for a few more minutes of
quivering calm. Soon, Linda took a break,
then came over to join them.

She
gave Eddie a big, long hug, as all her earlier hostility melted away. “How are
you, baby? Oh, it’s so good to see you. I swear.”

He
settled down, lovingly patting her back, as he returned the hug. “It’s been way
too long, darlin’. I wish I’d come here before. I’ve really missed you.” And
right then, he meant it.

They
whispered a few more personal things to one another, while their hands ran
across each other’s backs. Eddie held onto her just an extra moment or two,
losing himself in the familiar, sensual contact with her body conforming to his,
inhaling her natural scent that took him way back.

He
broke the hug, and then he said, “Linda, I want you to meet Felina. She’s very
special to me. And — and this’s Lowell Garner. He’s from Brenham. We gave
him a ride over here — well, not all the way, exactly, y’see his car broke
down over by Lake Charles an’ —”