Crescent City Connection

like she’d died and gone to heaven, but that was nothing compared to the chocolate cake they brought out after that. Dorise had never tasted cake like that, all full of raspberry and something that tasted as if it would make you drunk.
    And all through the meal they drank champagne and other fine wine, none of which was like anything Dorise had ever had in her life.
    Jesus
, she thought,
you have sent me a prince among men. You must not have meant me to make that promise I made if you sent me a man like this. You must be saying it be time to get serious, find me the right kind of man, once and for all. Good father for Shavonne, good husband for me. 1 b’lieve I’m ready at last.
    It was like a homecoming. For one thing, so different from being with Troy. Dashan asked her about her work, and about her clients, but he wanted to know about her—how she felt about it and them, not what they had that he could steal. He asked at least a hundred questions about Shavonne—and all of them nice ones, like what were her hobbies? Did she like her teacher? What school did she go to? Not did Dorise ever get tired of taking care of her, how often could she get a baby-sitter.
    This was a man who not only wouldn’t dream of breaking the law, he wouldn’t have to. This was a man doing well—a good Christian man she’d met in church just the way it was supposed to be.
    She was so busy congratulating herself, so busy being overwhelmed by her good fortune, she almost forgot to ask him about himself.
    He liked his new job a lot, he said, and he liked New Orleans. “Even better now,” he said. “If I didn’t have a reason to stick around before, I got one now. Let me ask you something—maybe it’s something you never thought of, I just want to know.”
    “Sure, Dashan.” She loved that serious look he got, as if what she thought was the most important thing in the world.
    “Do you think you’re through having children, or would you consider having more?”
    She couldn’t believe what he’d just said. A man didn’t ask a question like that unless he had a reason. She wanted to say, “I’d do anything for you. Just tell me and I’ll do it.” But she had her wits about her enough to say she hadn’t really thought about it. She loved Shavonne a lot, she told him, but she didn’t think she’d rule out the possibility of having more kids.
    He nodded, as if the answer satisfied him; he was so serious.
    So nice.
    When he took her home he didn’t even try to kiss her, just pecked her on the cheek and said he didn’t know when he’d had more fun, she sure was good for him.
    Her sister said, “Somethin’ funny about that man. He just a little bit too good to be true.”
    But that’s just the way she was.

Twenty-one
    THE MONK HAD been amazed when his niece didn’t keep her appointment with the cop. He had left without even his crook, or his emergency money. At first he hadn’t had the least idea what to do.
    He could have stayed with Revelas, but he didn’t know where his own best friend lived, which made him wonder about his life and the way he was living it. Yet how else could he live it, considering the way things were?
    He had enough money for a few meals, but a hotel was out of the question. Of course, he had no credit cards—he didn’t believe in leaving footprints within the system. He didn’t even have a driver’s license. One of Dahveed’s gay friends had traded him the scooter for an angel mural on his ceiling.
    No friends, no money, no plastic—and for the moment, no home. He wondered what it would be like to spend the night in Washington Square. On the whole, he decided, he’d rather be in Philadelphia. There was a nice vacant lot on Frenchmen, though, quite near the square. That might be okay.
    He started walking. It would be fine to sleep outside, he thought, because the outside was already dirty—therefore, no need to try to clean it. And no need to take a shower either. It might even be fun.
    As it turned out, it was such a relief he started wondering if he was going to end up a street person. He settled in, but found he couldn’t go to sleep until he was sure Lovelace had. So he went back to his own house, where he watched till the lights went out.
    I’m my angel’s guardian angel,
he thought, and the thought filled him with such pride, such love that he could have stood watch all night. He liked this a lot—this love from a distance.
    Perhaps
, he thought,
I can stop being The White