He pressed the phone to his ear, cutting off the sound. “It’s Nelson. I’m at work, but there’s this chick who needs a cab into the Quarter.” He looked at me. “You got cash? It’s gonna cost you.”
I held up a ten and a twenty. “After that I’m tapped out till payday,” I lied. Too much cash might make me a mark. I didn’t want to start my day having to break someone’s arm.
“She’s got money. Sure.” He hung up. “Five minutes. My cousin Rinaldo. He’s okay. Married with five kids. Works third shift and drives a cab to keep ’em all fed. I tried to explain to him about birth control, but he ain’t the brightest bulb, you know what I mean?” He was trying to make a joke, and laughed as if he was really funny.
I smiled and nodded. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
He took a card from his pocket and passed it to me. “Call me next time you want to party. I got access to some stuff. You know?”
“Thanks,” I said, pointing to the card. “Put Rinaldo’s number on back. Never know when I’ll need a cab in the morning.” When he was done, I tucked the card in my pack and walked out the door. Minutes later, Rinaldo pulled up in a yellow cab with a large bluebird painted on the forward doors. He looked me over, waved me closer, and unlocked the doors with an automatic click. I climbed in back and gave him my address. “And I need breakfast. Drive through a fast-food place and I’ll treat us both.”
Rinaldo studied me in the rearview and said, “Yo.”
I took that as a yes and lay my head back. I was exhausted.
The Joe was sitting on my front stoop when I got out of the cab. I had made arrangements with Rinaldo to pick me up in the mornings wherever I happened to find myself. Making nice with a cabdriver was always smart. I had learned the hard way that getting home on my own wasn’t always easy or even feasible. And the places where I shifted back to human weren’t places a cabbie would come unless you were a regular. Thinking I was the party girl my tired face and red lipstick proclaimed, he told me to be careful, call him anytime, and sped off.
I looked at the Joe and sighed. I needed a shower and a pot of tea and my bed. Not this.
“You want to tell me where you were last night?” he demanded.
“No. I don’t. Get away from my door.” When he frowned, I crossed my arms and jangled my keys. “You’re not my daddy, my lover, or my boss. Where I was is none of your business. I’m not in the mood for this. I’m tired and I need a shower and I’ll bust your chops if I have to. Move.”
“I got questions.” He eased to the side and I opened the front door. He stepped in after me, fast enough that I couldn’t have shut the door on him without shoving him back first.
I sighed again as he followed me to the kitchen where I turned on the kettle. “Fine. But I’m getting a shower first. You can wait.”
I closed my bedroom door and stripped, climbing into the hot shower for a personal grooming session. I didn’t have much body hair, courtesy of my Cherokee blood, but what I had came back in every time I shifted, as if I had never shaved. Shifting every night made it a pain.
When I was pretty sure the kettle had been whistling for a long time, I turned off the water, pulled on a ratty T-shirt and shorts and went back to the kitchen, my wet hair soaking through the thin cloth down my back. He was at my kitchen table, sprawled out like he owned the place, his sunglasses near his left hand and his eyes on my legs as I walked to the kettle.
“I took it off the fire and poured it over the leaves,” he said.
Surprised, I lifted the plastic lid of the tea strainer and sniffed. I had left a strong Madagascar Vanilla Sunday Blend in the strainer, sitting in the teapot, waiting. And now it was ready. “Thanks,” I said, and poured it into a twelve-ounce mug, added a dollop of sugar, and stirred. “Want some?”
“I’m good.” He seemed a little less demanding than on the stoop, and after a good wash I was feeling a little more magnanimous. But I had a feeling this conversation was about to get either very physical or very full of lies. I wasn’t in the mood for either.
I had eaten six Egg McMuffins and downed three Cokes, so I wasn’t hungry this morning. Which was probably a good thing. When humans saw me eat, they tended to get bug-eyed at the quantity. Rinaldo had assumed I had the munchies from drug use. I hadn’t told him any different.
I sat across from the Joe and sipped, thinking. I wanted to say I owed him no explanations, but he was a local, with contacts I didn’t have. I could humor him. A little. “Okay. You’re here. I’ve had my shower. I have my tea. I’m listening.”
“Where were you last night?” When I shook my head, he said, “How’d you get out of here without me seeing you?” I shook my head again, letting a smile start, and he narrowed his eyes at me. “How did you spot the camera looking into Katie’s backyard?”