Jazz Funeral

stoned can do, his whole body shaking, tears pouring. “God, you’re a bitch. No wonder that man-mountain’s stopped coming around.”
    “Oh, boy. Who’s the bitch?”
    “Sorry, I didn’t mean it. I mean, I’m sure it’s nothing—bimbo attack, probably.”
    “Oh, can it, Dee-Dee, I thought you wanted to tell me something.” She hated herself for breaking the mood. Women always said men wouldn’t talk about feelings, but she was the guilty one here. She’d sidetracked sentiment as handily as any clod who’d ever pledged Deke.
    “Well, like I was saying, I love ya, baby.”
    “Likewise, I’m sure.”
    “I have to make changes in my life—for the kids.”
    “You’re really going to be a dad?”
    “What else do you suggest?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t know. Boarding school, I guess.”
    He shook his head vigorously. “Uh-uh and no way. I got sent and no kid of mine—”
    “Listen to you! One minute you’re camping it up and next you’re talking no-kid-of-mine.”
    “Well, dammit, I want to do this. I really want to take care of those kids.” He stopped and looked away from her, made sure she couldn’t see his face, and said, “Love them.”
    He said it so low she wasn’t sure she’d heard right, but she was starting to come down and she had the sense not to ask.
    He turned to her and grimaced. “It’s not like I had a sex life or anything. I might as well get a hobby.”
    “Dee-Dee, you’re the worst.”
    “Well, I mean, guys in feather boas and leather aren’t exactly a wholesome influence. Do you think?”
    “Depends on the guys.” He said it with her, and they split their sides for a while, still deliciously loaded.
    “What I want to say first—here’s the bottom line—is you’re family. Do you understand that? No matter what happens.”
    “Dee-Dee, what are you saying?”
    “Well, I kind of need your apartment.”
    So that was it. The cold feeling in her stomach came back. “You want me to move?”
    “Well, yes and no.”
    “Dee-Dee, you do or you don’t.”
    “I want you to move and stay here too. What I want to do is take back your apartment and the other two, redo the budding as a single-family home, and move the kids in. Plus a nanny or au pair or something—whatever you’re supposed to get.”
    She shrugged. “Beats me.” She didn’t know what she’d do if it were she, suddenly a mom without a clue.
    “It’ll be gorgeous, don’t you think? Qui you see the possibilities?”
    “It’ll be great.” I wish I could live in it.
    “And I want you to take the slave quarters.”
    “What?” He lived there himself, and it was a showplace. “Dee-Dee that’s sweet of you, but I don’t think—”
    “At the same rent, my dainty darling. A teensy-weensy little rent for a teensy-weensy girl.”
    “No.”
    “Yes. Mais certainement. ”
    “I can’t.”
    “But you must. I can’t go through this alone.” It was a joke, he said it like a joke, but she caught an involuntary twitch in his neck, knew that it was true, that he was tense right now, afraid she’d turn him down.
    She said, “You just want a built-in babysitter.”
    “Wrong. I need a cop in the house. ‘Cause you know what kids do? They make you watch Freddy Krueger movies and then you have nightmares and wake up scared. I need you to protect me.”
    Skip was jerked upright by the sweet domestic image—Uncle Jimmy and his niece and nephew watching scary movies in their newly redone French Quarter home. Munching microwave popcorn. No lights on. The kids on the floor, Skip too. Everybody giggling at funny old Freddy and his fake fingernails.
    It seemed doable. Alien, but doable. She was excited by it in a funny way, somewhere deep in her belly felt fuzzy little stirrings. I want this. She was surprised.
    She turned to Jimmy Dee and raised an eyebrow. “You’re getting weird, Dee-Dee.”
    “I’ll go make up the lease—okay?”
    “They have to call me Auntie. That’s non-negotiable.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
    They were hugging when Steve came in. A curious domesticity had come over them, a weird blissful peace, as if they’d found something they were looking for.
    “You two getting married?”
    “No. We’re going to be single parents.”
    “Am I missing something?”
    “That’s my cue,” said Jimmy Dee. “‘Bye now.” He floated out with a campy flick of the wrist.
    Steve stared after him: “Like I said. Am I missing something?”
    Skip got up and gave him a hug, but she