“Oh, mi amiga,” he replied. “I have already made plans.”
“Arrogant jerk,” she said under her breath. “You always have other plans.”
As Crazy Jake and Mouse neared the food table, Armando walked over to them, a good excuse to get away from the clinging Calypso.
“It is a pleasure to see you both,” he said. “But the dog, she has to stay outside. It is no allowed you see.”
“Awe, ’mando,” Mouse said. “Just this once, huh, huh?”
“Es no posseeb-lay,” he said. “She is no my rules.”
With a shrug Jake took a square of cheese from the table and fed it to the dog. Then he handed it some crackers which it downed hungrily. He took the leash from Mouse and headed to the front door, the dog drooling and coughing a path of crumbs in its wake.
“C’mon Pooter,” Jake mumbled to the dog. “It’s under the tree time for you.”
A few people snickered as he passed.
“Shame on you Jake,” said Mouse. “You know her name is Pewter, like the color of her fur.” The dog was her baby and making fun of her name like that just wasn’t nice. No matter how funny he thought it was. But her irritation with him was as brief as her ability to focus.
“Hurry back,” she squeaked, her voice high and thin as she piled up all the food she could fit onto her plate. She wrapped more in a napkin and shoved it into her large purse. “I’m waitin’ right here for ya, Jake.”
Mary Rose walked slowly to the table and refilled her plate. “You’ve such a lovely voice my dear, will you be singing for us tonight?”
“Jake says I sing for my supper.”
“With that voice you deserve a feast.”
The flattery pleased Mouse. She was used to people looking at her as though she was contagious. Or averting their eyes completely as they walked by. Her clothes were dirty, she knew that, but given a choice between soap and feeding Pewter it was no contest. It was only when they played their music that people would stop and really notice them, a look akin to respect in their eyes. Like they were somebody. Like they had faces. They played for loose change that put a roof over their heads. And while it filled their pockets it also filled their hearts with joy. But mostly they played because it reminded them of who they used to be. Who they might have been if somewhere along the way they’d turned right instead of left.
“I like it here,” Mouse said as she shoved another bite of cheese into her mouth. “People are nice to us here.”
Barbara sat at the desk giving change to a couple who’d just bought a music box. Calypso had likely found it at a garage sale, but when she was finished working her magic it was something new and wonderful. Re-purposing the tossed and forgotten and giving it a new life. Bringing pleasure to fresh eyes. And adding a little more to the till in the process.
“I will answer that,” said Armando as the phone rang.
Mary Rose couldn’t help but overhear his end of the conversation.
“Oh, sí, sí,” he said. “Is very busy and good. Why you are no here?”
He turned and faced away from the room as he continued, lowering his voice.
“How around midnight, my beautiful dove?”
Mary Rose’s ears perked up.
“Is no problema. Until midnight then.” And he hung up.
“Paloma sends her apologies,” he called out to his wife. “She is no feeling so well.”
Mary Rose returned to her chair in the corner of the room. She loved these receptions. It was like watching a free movie and she rarely missed a scene. There was a time she might have been the star player but those days were behind her and now she relished in the role of silent observer. It was damn near as much fun. But not quite mind you. Not quite.
She wondered why Armando felt he had to sneak around. It wasn’t as though everyone didn’t know. Most even participated. Barbara had plenty of her own action, truth be told, and made no secret of it. It was a given on both their parts. The Mosaic Gallery family was an open book with few, if any, secrets. Life was to be lived to the fullest, no holds barred, never stifled by other peoples rules. Their Bohemian enclave thrived with creativity and freedom, oblivious to the mundane world around them. They lived their own reality. And Mary Rose found this world far more appealing than the one that buzzed around mindlessly beyond its walls. Mary Rose had come to the conclusion that Armando was just sneaky by nature. She’d known his type over the years, even bedded a few. His secretiveness merely added to the mystique and fun of the game.
Crazy Jake re-entered the room, took Mouse by the elbow and steered her over to Armando’s shelf. Armando joined them and Jake handed him a fistful of wadded up bills as Mouse reached for the statues. She put four of them into her purse as Armando counted the money and slipped it into his pocket. Three more people lined up by Armando and he quickly sold five more. What had been full shelves at the beginning of the night were now half empty.
Calypso floated into the room, her eyes flitting about with the attention span of a kid with ADD. She put the brakes on her erratic dance and jiggling breasts. Like a sputtering helicopter running out of gas she landed next to Mary Rose.
“This is getting boring,” said Calypso standing next to her. Once again she’d struck out with Armando. One of the few who had. “Boring, boring, boring.”
Mary Rose looked up at her. “You’re perfectly right, my dear. I was just thinking as much myself. Could you give me a ride home perhaps?”
“I’ve got a gig later at The Oasis,” she said, doing a few hip thrusts to accentuate the point.
“Would that give you enough time to share a drink? And perhaps a little weed?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” she said as she helped Mary Rose to her feet.
The two women bade their farewells and walked arm in arm out the door and into the heat of the night.
* * * *
Maggie Reardon kicked off the covers and the cat, then fell back to sleep. The night had been restless, mainly due to the heat but also because thoughts of Marty were giving her monkey brain. They kept swimming around in her head and banging against her skull like balls careening around a pool table. As soon as she’d doze off another thought would jolt her awake again. She’d pegged him as a lot of things during their short affair, but his determination to win her back was both unexpected and a bit unnerving. She’d figured him weaker than that. But maybe it was that very weakness that was luring him back. Maybe he needed someone strong standing beside him to hold him upright. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Or maybe he wasn’t who she thought he was at all. You think you know somebody but then you start to peel away the layers and discover you don’t know them at all. But that’s how it always is. People show you what they want you to see and keep the rest hidden under lock and key. Maybe she was no different. She hid things too. It was safer that way. Maggie was a good judge of people; you have to be when you’re a cop. That’s what keeps you alive. But this new wrinkle in Marty’s character, or lack thereof, had her doubting herself.
