Dragons Wild

“Get to the damn point,” Valerie said.

“I was, before you interrupted me. Despite all that, I’m still watching Brother’s back. Now this was his game, top to bottom, I just was here in case things get rough. Maybe another game starts now, maybe not. Up to Ma and the others. I could give a shit. But if you try anything, anything at all, you can bet it won’t be touchy-feely glamour and expensive dates next time.”

“I don’t care how tough you are, threatening me is not a good idea right now,” Valerie said.

“I’m not threatening, I’m telling. You don’t want to find out my idea of a date, babe. This mess is done. If you try to come back at us, you or yours, then me and mine are going to roll over and bury you.”

He turned and left, just like that. Didn’t even bother to close the door behind him. Valerie took a step forward, and stopped. She didn’t see the point, didn’t see what it would accomplish. Mai looked her over and sighed.

“So? Scotch and ice cream was it?” Mai said.

“Emphasis on the scotch.”

Valerie was still staring at the door.

“You know, that family is really starting to piss me off,” she said, and strode out the door.

Mai nodded, cast one last glance to the smashed pearls, and followed.

As Thor left the condo, he failed to notice the two figures standing in the shadows across the street. With no apparent haste, he sauntered leisurely toward Bourbon Street.

“That’s him,” Gris-gris said. “That’s the dude.”

“He’s all yours,” Griffen said. “You might want to use this. I’ve got a hunch he has tough skin.”

He passed a large pocket knife to Gris-gris, who quickly thumbed the blade open. The blade caught the light, and showed a series of deep serrations along the cutting edge.

Gris-gris took a step in pursuit, then paused.

“How did you know?” he said.

“Once Nathaniel showed his true colors, I remembered that he had mentioned he and his brother were staying at the family condo,” Griffen said. “I thought that Valerie had caved in a bit too easily, so I hung around outside our complex and tagged along when they left. Called you on my cell phone so we could hook up along the way, and here we are. Maybe it was a long shot, but we are into gambling, after all.”

“Are you sure this won’t cause trouble with Nathaniel’s family?” Gris-gris said, still hesitating.

“After what they did to you and Val, I don’t really much care,” Griffen said coldly. “Just don’t mess him up too bad. I think they’re about to blow town and wouldn’t want that delayed by a stay in the hospital. Oh, and don’t mention this to the girls. Let’s keep it between the two of us.”

Fifty-two

After everything that had happened, Griffen felt obliged to take Valerie out to a nice dinner. If nothing else, he felt they both deserved a relaxed evening in each other’s company.

Tonight, their restaurant of choice was the Desire Oyster Bar in the Royal Sonesta Hotel on Bourbon Street. While he normally avoided Bourbon Street except for listening to specific groups, he had developed a taste for the turtle soup they served at the Desire. That coupled with half a roast beef po’boy sandwich made for a very satisfying, filling meal.

As they were reaching the end of their meal, Griffen noticed an Asian gentleman and two young white men being seated at a table a short distance away. He specifically did not make eye contact or wave a greeting, but the Asian spotted him and nodded in smiling acknowledgment. Griffen nodded back.

“Who is that?” Valerie said.

“He’s a player from one of our games,” Griffen said. “He’s a really nice guy. A chef who relocated here from Atlanta and opened his own restaurant over on Decatur.”

“I notice you waited until he nodded to you before you nodded back.”

“I figure it’s basic manners,” Griffen said. “I don’t know who he’s with or why they’re here, but it could be awkward. If I waved at him, he’d either have to explain that he knows me from an illegal card game, or make up a fast story on the spot. If he faked it, they might stop me for conversation at a later point. Since I wouldn’t know what he told them, I could easily mess things up for him. It’s easier to let him acknowledge the acquaintance first.”

“I see,” Valerie said thoughtfully.

A well-dressed black man approached their table.

“Excuse me. It’s Mr. McCandles, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.” Griffen said, rising and shaking the offered hand. “Only I prefer ‘Griffen’ in informal situations.”

“Griffen it is.” The man smiled. “Sorry to interrupt your meal, but I was hoping you could do me a small favor.”

“It depends on the favor.” Griffen smiled back.

“Nothing illegal, I assure you,” the man said with a laugh. “You see, I don’t get to spend much time in the Quarter lately, and the young lady I’m with this evening wants to hear some real New Orleans music. I was hoping you could recommend someplace.”