chewed slowly as they eyed one another silently. Clearly she was waiting for him to begin a dialogue and he did so, placing his cutlery down.
‘Eggs good?’
* * *
Misu tilted her head, mouth still half full. Eggs. After the conflict between them, the best point of conversation he could muster was about eggs?
‘The eggs are fine,’ she revealed, taking the last of them from the plate. ‘The eggs are always fine.’
She heavily swallowed and gestured with a dainty fork. No, this wouldn’t do.
‘I’m sorry, eggs? Eggs. I just wanted to clarify you’re talking about eggs and nothing else at all. It’s not, like, a metaphor for something that I have clearly missed. Maybe about you being an ass and me clearly provoking you for being such a bloody fool?’
Immediately she recoiled upon giving voice to her anger. Turning away did nothing to help the embarrassment.
Franco shrugged blankly. ‘Wow. Good thing I didn’t enquire about the tomatoes.’
The pair laughed at the absurdity, causing more than a few glances in their direction.
‘Food has been a concern of late for you. Are we still on the lookout for an actual cook?’
‘We should be. I’m not altogether keen on this stopgap who you hired last month.’
‘Kitty,’ Misu prompted.
‘Yes, her. Don’t get me wrong, she fills the role well, but Kitty’s one of the girls and was brought on to be such. I don’t like the idea of someone with a split job. It prevents one from dedicating themselves to a single task. Makes things messy,’ Franco stated.
‘What would the chances be that we just happen to stumble upon someone looking for work who is talented in the kitchen? Most of the girls are unfamiliar with the majority of what we bring on board. Kitty has been the only one capable of actually cooking it. I’m assuming that’s because of her farm upbringing – growing and whatnot. Not everyone has had such exposure.’
‘I still think it would be a good idea.’
Misu gave a modest laugh, watching the short blonde girl whizz between cupboard and counter, brandishing pan and knife in turn, a content country song passing from her lips. ‘It would be frivolous. With Kitty about, what’s the point? I’ve heard no complaints, nothing but praise in fact. Seems to be doing good and nobody is going hungry.’
‘Yet.’
‘Yet,’ Misu repeated.
‘Or poisoned.’
‘Yes, or poisoned.’
Misu glanced to the plate of bacon and flat bread that Franco had almost managed to finish, finding the hypocrisy to be almost amusing. She grinned, in answer to which he patted his lips with a napkin, balled it beside him, and returned the expression in kind.
Misu flexed a finger to the plate. ‘That right there tells me that we should see how it plays out. Trust in my recruitment and give it a chance. Okay?’
‘We’ll do it your way.’ Franco eased a yawn.
‘I’m glad you see sense. How are the finances after last night? Generally, I mean,’ she asked.
‘We’re not broke yet.’
‘Not this week at least.’ She paused then winced meekly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that.’
‘Sure you did. It’s fine though; I don’t mind you prying. You’re right. Not this week.’ Franco grinned and she reciprocated.
‘Good to know.’ Misu paused. ‘I was wondering where you were at the close last night. I had to give your speech, you know. I’ve not done that in a while.’
‘Some people wanted me to play nice, talk to them, that sort of thing. Got dragged away for far too long.’ Franco yawned, recalling the events and their associated tedium.
‘Anyone important?’
‘Local mayor, some friends of his. Nothing that couldn’t wait but they insisted I bantered at the table. Then he wanted me to meet his daughter in an attempt of matchmaking, not that they had the courtesy to inform me first. The stories, damn their mouths – they talked seemingly for ever! If I hear one more tale about how Balvalk was once great I may very well shoot this head of mine. It’s not great. Greatness never lived here. It just needed a place to piss and hung around a spell before moving on.’
‘And the daughter?’
‘Not my sort.’
Misu snorted in amusement. ‘Do you even have a sort?’
‘I’ll tell you one day. You can keep guessing until then.’ Franco thanked a woman who passed and balanced his plate upon a stack of others she was on her way to clean.
‘I have no need to guess. You missed the commotion though; I’m sure you’re disappointed at that.’ Misu hung a cigarette between her lips and snapped off the contents of a matchbook. She held the flame in place, drawing slowly on her poison before shaking the fire to reduction. Her flute of grey smoke evaporated quickly. ‘We had a little trouble but nothing fancy.’
‘Oh?’
‘Some drunk accused one of ours of counting cards. Got rowdy and smashed a bottle. Glass everywhere.’
‘Heavens.’
‘Nothing more than a mess. Jacques calmed him down enough for the constabulary to haul him away after.’
‘A relief to hear. That man has paid for himself ten times over. The benefits of having some strong-arm help.’
‘Careful, Franco, you’re in danger of sounding like you actually care.’
‘Mistake noted. What are your plans for the day?’
‘The girls and I are going to the bath-house in town. I’m assuming that we can be spared some walking around money after last night? A little shopping would keep the spirits up.’
‘But the bath-house?’ he queried.
‘A little publicity for us, dear. Some pampering – I’m sure you won’t mind.’
Appearance was everything for the Gambler’s Den, and Misu knew full well what effect the parade of showgirls had on bored locals. Their appearance, especially in a pack, caused a sensation wherever they ventured, guaranteeing a higher turnout before a subsequent show. A higher turnout would result in a higher profit – at least one would assume so.
* * *
Franco pondered Misu’s request but remained cautious. He recalled the time where they were almost mobbed in a market square, or the time when some young men became far too aggressive in their affections. To him, it was not worrying. It was being wary of negative perceptions, despite how
