Lousiana Hotshot

I can see you tonight. I have to go get Tony at the airport.”
    “You wouldn’t want company, would you?”
    “Oh, I would. I really truly would. But I wouldn’t put you through all this— after I get him, I have to take him to the hospital.”
    “Talba. You know what we talked about yesterday? Did you think I meant it or not?”
    She sidestepped that one. “Nah, it wouldn’t make sense to come get you. I’m already out by Bayou St. John.”
    “When does his plane get in?”
    “In forty-five minutes.”
    “I’ll meet you there.”
    It was crazily quixotic— then they’d have two cars at the airport. But she didn’t care; she gave him the particulars.
    She had no wish to be alone tonight, even alone with Tony. She wanted someone with her whose hand she could squeeze if they got bad news. And she wanted all the company she could get. Toes wouldn’t try anything in front of witnesses.
    She thought of the lonely walk from the airport parking lot and phoned Darryl again. “Hey, listen. I’m going to stop at Barnes & Noble and get some coffee at their cafe. Can you meet me there? We’ll leave my car and take yours to the airport.”
    “Sure, but why?”
    “Toes got Eddie— he might know about me too.” She wasn’t happy to sound like a wimpy female, but Darryl had a right to know what he was getting into.
    All he said was, “Pick me up a latte, will you?”
    When he’d arrived, gathered her up, and collected his latte, he said, “So. This guy’s a one-man crime wave. Don’t you think it’s time you went to the police?”
    “Skip, you mean.” She’d always suspected he had a crush on the cop. They’d met through her, in a sort of a way. No, actually, now that she thought of it, that wasn’t it, exactly. Skip and Darryl had both been part of a group that came to hear her read. The woman he was with that night was the police psychologist.
    “I saw Skip an hour ago; she said to watch my back.”
    He was having trouble driving and drinking his latte. Talba reached out to take the cup from him.
    His fingers feathered her thigh, barely touching. “How’s Eddie? I’ve been afraid to ask.”
    “Nobody knows. Maybe Audrey does, but she’s not talking. Everybody’s pretty glum, though.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    Speaking of Eddie had caused a curtain of pain to descend, a reminder of death and of fate, and they dealt with it silently, each in his or her way. When Darryl had parked, they reached automatically for one another and walked to the gate hand in hand, Talba’s fingers squeezing Darryl’s. They waited nearly half an hour, barely speaking at all. But she was glad to have him there.
    Tony looked tousled and tired when he stepped off the plane. He was alone, and Talba was glad. The Valentinos had all they could handle right now, without a pregnant fiancée.
    Talba stepped forward. “Tony. Talba Wallis.”
    “Ah. The Baroness.” He managed a bow, but no smile. She introduced Darryl, and then spoke before Tony could. “Your father was still in surgery when I left. I’m sorry; I don’t have any more news than that.”
    He nodded that he understood, and she noticed that his cheek was working, as if he were biting it. He seemed jumpy and irritable, like someone who’d just quit smoking.
    They stopped at Barnes
&
Noble, where she and Tony transferred to her car. Being in it with him was like being locked up with a lion. She wished she had a cigarette to offer him.
    When she got him to the waiting room, Angie and Audrey melted onto him. They were all three crying and kissing when she left, unnoticed.
    She asked about Eddie at the desk. He was still in surgery.
    She followed Darryl home after that, tears streaming at last. Being caged with Tony’s grim self-containment was the thing that had finally gotten to her.
    * * *
    It was an odd night for Talba and Darryl. They ordered out for a pizza, and drank some wine, but neither one could seem to relax. Neither did they want to make love. The tension tugged at them, the strange dance of the last two days embarrassed them. They needed a break from each other, and yet they didn’t want to be apart.
    Talba didn’t want to present a target for Toes, and she sensed that Darryl wanted to watch her. One thing: they hadn’t been followed to Algiers Point. The neighborhood was too quiet, the streets too narrow for concealment.
    She phoned Miz Clara. “I’m at Darryl’s. You all right?”
    “’Course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Her