Cut and Run 7 - Touch and Geaux

couldn’t keep the amusement or the cynicism out of his voice. But Ty and Ava both looked grim.
    “This is like a black spot on his soul,” Ava whispered. “It will spread to everyone he cares for, everyone his soul has touched.”
    Ty slumped and banged his forehead on the table.

    The three rooms above La Fée Verte had once been rented out to travelers, back in the early days of the city, and though most of the old buildings in the neighborhood had been converted into condos and apartments, the layout of La Fée Verte’s rooms was very much unchanged from one hundred years ago. They all had small kitchenettes and just enough space for a double bed, a wardrobe, and a chair. They shared a washroom at the end of the hall, and adjoined a smaller room that served as an office for the bar below.
    Ty knew all of the rooms well. He had lived in one of them for almost two years. They generated extra income for the bar, but Murdoch had rented mostly to employees at a ridiculously low rate. It kept someone on the premises at all times, and it kept them loyal to him. For Ty’s purposes, living there had thrown him right into the middle of the world he’d needed at the time.
    Ava led them up the narrow stairs. Ty let his hand caress the brocade wallpaper as he went, the texture and scent bringing back memories that were, for the most part, good ones.
    His life here had been different from any other he had lived or pretended to live. But there’d been a heady seductiveness about it, something dark and rich and tempting. Ty had almost succumbed to its charms.
    Ava used a key on a long purple ribbon to unlock one of the doors, and she stepped aside to let them into the room. Ty took the key from her. She met his eyes defiantly, but there was pain there too. He knew he’d hurt her. All in the name of doing his job. Just like he’d hurt Zane. He tore his eyes away from her and looked into the room.
    He was stunned to find that little was different since he’d last been there.
    “Murdoch didn’t see any point in changing what you did to it,” Ava told him.
    Ty shook his head and stepped into the room. An odd sense of homesickness flooded him. He stopped in the middle of the threadbare Oriental rug as he distantly registered Ava’s footsteps moving away.
    Not one thing seemed different from the night he’d left.
    The simple iron bed was burnished silver, the patina of age giving it a character the delicate scrollwork could not manage. The ivory quilt was plain, and the design of the cotton sheets was faded and well-worn, giving the entire bed a vintage Dust Bowl look.
    The walls were covered with yellowing pages out of old books, glued haphazardly, one on top of another, onto wooden paneling that could no longer be seen. Ty had spent days doing it, trying to insulate the thin walls so no one could hear what he was up to when he was alone, but people who’d seen his work afterward had attributed it to an artistic, quirky personality instead of simple paranoia.
    Along one wall sat an old stove and an antique Crosley refrigerator that occasionally needed rewiring. Beside that was a tiny table with two celery green padded chairs, and a sink below open shelves that held dishes.
    In the corner of the room opposite the bed was a large wardrobe. Ty stepped toward it and opened the door on the right, almost expecting to see his clothes still hung neatly inside. It was empty, however, not even a hanger left.
    He turned to face Zane, who had stopped on the threshold. “This is almost exactly how I left it.”
    Zane’s focus was on him, though, not the room. His words were quiet, almost bitter. “I can’t believe it was you.”
    Ty swallowed hard. He didn’t know if this was promising or damning.
    “You knew, didn’t you?” Zane asked. “Why didn’t you say something?”
    Ty had to avert his eyes. “I wasn’t sure. I didn’t . . . I was hoping it wasn’t.”
    “Why?”
    “You and your perfect wife versus me in eyeliner and my girlfriend with feathers in her hair, asking you to play with us? Come on, man.”
    “That’s what makes you you . Jackass.”
    “Exactly.”
    Zane remained silent, but the irritation and disgust in his expression hit harder than any words. It seemed all Zane could see were lies. The tension was growing heavier, pressing at Ty, making him want to fidget. “You think it was fate?”
    “I don’t believe in fate.
    Ty nodded, pushing back the tumbling of his nerves. “It believes in