Dragons Wild

“Listen. If you got a minute, I need to talk to you. Can I buy you a drink?”

“No problem,” Griffen said. “Hey, Steamboat! Can you take over this rack for me?”

Passing the stick over to his replacement, they stepped to the bar, gathered their drinks, and retired to one of the circular tables along the wall…the same one, in fact, that Griffen had been sitting at for his last meeting with Gris-gris.

More and more, Griffen found himself sitting with his back to the wall, facing the doors, wherever he was. No sense letting anyone, local or more dangerous threat, have an easier drop on him. He tried not to overthink his new paranoia, especially when it seemed to be justified.

“So, what’s up?” Griffen said, settling into his chair.

Gris-gris looked nervous, fidgeting with his drink as he talked.

“There’s a couple of things I need to talk to you about,” he said. “Let me get the first one out of the way so you don’t think the second one has anything to do with it.”

“All right,” Griffen said. “Shoot.”

He immediately wished he had used a different word, but Gris-gris didn’t notice and plowed on.

“Well, first of all I wanted to tell you that I’ve thought about it and decided to keep my game with your organization. I’ll be using your network and paying you a percentage like before…including the payments I missed during our little difference of opinion.”

Griffen kept the surprise off his face and simply nodded.

“That’s great, Gris-gris,” he said. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He made a little toasting motion with his glass that Gris-gris returned.

Instead of continuing, however, Gris-gris kept fidgeting uncomfortably, glancing around the room.

“What’s the other thing?” Griffen said, prompting him.

Gris-gris seemed to gather himself.

“Well, you see…”

He broke off and took another sip of his drink.

“What it is…” he began again, then stopped.

Griffen frowned at him.

“You’re starting to worry me, Gris-gris,” he said. “Talk to me. Are you in trouble with the law? Do you need money?”

Gris-gris shook his head.

“Nothin’ like that,” he said. “Look. What I’m trying to say is that I want to date your sister…if it’s all right with you, I mean.”

Griffen sat back in his chair and blinked. For a moment, he could think of absolutely nothing to say.

“Hey, if there’s a problem…that’s cool.” Gris-gris said hastily, misunderstanding the silence.

“No. It’s just…you just caught me by surprise is all,” Griffen managed at last. “You know, this is the first time anyone ever asked my permission to date Valerie. We’ve always pretty much gone our separate ways.”

“Then it’s okay?”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” Griffen said. “I figure it’s her decision to make.”

Besides, Griffen thought, the rumor mill has been so good that he has worried less and less about her. Here, the town protected his “little” sister.

“I understand that,” Gris-gris said. “I just didn’t want you to think I was sneaking around behind your back to hit on your sister. Some guys get real upset if they think you’re trying to pull a fast one.”

“Well, I appreciate you letting me know,” Griffen said, finally starting to recover from his surprise. “It’s always good to keep communication lines open.”

“Speaking of that,” Gris-gris said, “I don’t have any way to get in touch with her…or you for that matter. That’s why I came looking for you here.”

“We can fix that easy enough,” Griffen said. I’ll pass you both our cell phone numbers before you leave. In the meantime, let me get the next round here.”

As he went to the bar to get the drinks, it occurred to Griffen that he should probably check with Valerie before giving out her cell phone number. The more he thought about it, though, the more he was convinced to let things go as they stood.

Why should he be the only one to have to deal with surprises?

Twenty-one

Fourth of July weekend meant different things to different people in New Orleans.

For some it was the Essence Fest, another of the numerous music festivals that dotted the city calendar.

For others, it meant a long weekend break from work. Weather permitting, an excursion to the beach, the Audubon Zoo, or even just a picnic or backyard barbecue provided a sufficient change of pace.

With the hotels and restaurants full, the service industry dropped it into low gear and worked their tails off. No rest for the wicked.

For Mose’s crew, and therefore for Griffen, it meant a high-stakes poker game.

It seemed that this was a yearly event that a group of regular players attended, both local and out of towners. To be accurate, it was one of several yearly games that Mose hosted, usually coinciding with holidays or major local celebrations. This was just the first big game that Griffen had been invited to play in since he arrived in New Orleans three weeks earlier.