Femme Noir
nothing.
    “You’re amazing,” Jhoaeneyie said.
    “You’re a goddess,” Ava-Suzanne added.
    Darcy put a hand on her left breast and addressed me. “There’s a lot going on in here, you know what I’m saying?”
    I sank onto my bar stool and hugged my beer.
    “Between my job,” Darcy continued, counting off on her fingers, “and supporting Ava-Suzanne, and my spiritual work and my art and then helping this one”—Darcy gestured to Jhoaeneyie—“with her music…I am done in. See, I’m real visual. That’s my medium. So music is more of a challenge.”
    “A guitar is a moody mistress, you know what I mean?” Jhoaeneyie said. “See, I’m not like that. I flunk all simple stuff. Tying shoes, flushing the toilet. Give me something intricate and difficult. That’s my métier.” She pronounced it “may-teer.”
    “Jack!” I shouted, seeing him come inside again. “Jack’s back.” I noted, with a little envy, how fresh and crisp he looked. I vowed to copy his changing clothes idea.
    Jack grinned and sat. Everyone drank in silence for a few moments.
    “Darcy’s done time,” Jack murmured in her ear. “Funny, huh?”
    Interested, I turned back to Darcy and said, “Jack just told me you’ve done time. Is that true?” I wondered if that had served Darcy’s artistic purpose.
    Fake modesty made Darcy smile archly and say yes.
    “What for?”
    “Forgery.”
    I turned back to the bar and said to my beer, “Forgery’s a woman’s crime.”
    “What?” Darcy heard me but seemed stunned. “Ava-Suzanne, my lover, has played in Europe. We’ll probably go back there soon.” Darcy sniffed. “Better class of people.”
    “Is that so?” I asked Ava-Suzanne, whose nostrils curved into a snarl.
    “Oh, Darcy, please don’t brag on me. You know I hate being an ornament. I have issues with being shown off,” Ava-Suzanne said, simpering.
    I dared to put my hand reassuringly on Ava-Suzanne’s cold forearm. “Don’t worry about it. Really.”
    The infidel voice of Jack slipped into my ear again. “She was third chair in Bumfuck, Arkansas, or some such mishbegotten place.”
    I smothered my laughter by draining my beer. I hadn’t planned to drink so fast, but I had no other way of keeping a straight face. Plenty of time later to laugh out loud. I needed a cigarette badly.
    “So, Ava-Suzanne, where have you played?” I asked.
    “Oh,” Ava-Suzanne replied airily, “Europe, various places in the U.S. In different orchestras.”
    “Do you play here?” I didn’t even know if Tulsa had an orchestra.
    “No, she can’t anymore,” Darcy interrupted. “She has a serious energy blockage in her right hand. We’re getting alternative medicine to treat it, but until then, it’s agony for her to play.”
    “You see,” Jhoaeneyie began, “emotions are connected to the body. I’ve seen it. Ava-Suzanne is gifted, but her obstacles from trauma forbid her playing.”
    “Bullshit,” Jack cooed tipsily into my ear.
    “Have you been to a doctor?” I asked.
    “Yes, but they say I’m fine,” Ava-Suzanne answered haughtily, shaking out her right hand for emphasis as if it hurt to even talk about it.
    “Allopathic medicine is worthless. That’s why we’re going to the womyn’s holistic natural healing clinic and have Qiu Qu with Cinnamon Moonbear. She’s the best. I’m learning her trade so that I can do it.”
    “Ladyfair Moonbear is amazing !” Jhoaeneyie interjected.
    “Cho Choo?” I asked.
    “Yes.” Darcy warmed to her subject. “It’s a process of clearing nasty, thorny storages of pain.”
    “Ask how.” Jack giggled.
    “How?” I asked.
    Darcy sat up straighter, clearly loving her own voice. “A qualified practitioner immerses Ava-Suzanne into specially supercharged ionized clear fluid…You know what that is?” Darcy asked smugly.
    “Expensive water,” Jack whispered.
    “And Ava-Suzanne remains there for a specified amount of time depending on what you’re clearing and how

Similar Books

Shifting Gears

Audra North

Council of Kings

Don Pendleton

The Voodoo Killings

Kristi Charish

Death in North Beach

Ronald Tierney

Cristal - Novella

Anne-Rae Vasquez

Storm Shades

Olivia Stephens

The Deception

Marina Martindale

The Song Dog

James McClure