“Just go out and stay close,” he says. “I’ll come looking for you as soon as I’ve made sure everyone’s settled.”
I slip out into the cold night and walk west a block, then north. I’m not sure what to do, so I wait, leaning against a wall. My hair is tucked inside the coat, making it difficult to tell if I’m a man or a woman.
In the darkness, my whole body shakes. I’m not sure what I feel, other than numb. I think of Guy lying dead on the floor, and I’m not sorry.
A car passes slowly, and I duck my head. Then a couple walks past, but they’re too involved in their conversation to notice me. I’m beginning to worry when I hear my name being shouted in a whisper and I run toward a dark figure in an overcoat.
“It worked,” Roland says when I reach him. “He’s secure in your room for now, and everyone thinks you’re in there asleep. They won’t disturb him.”
The horror of it all has me strangely giddy, but Roland takes my hand and pulls it into the crook of his arm. “Don’t be afraid now,” he says. “I’ll take care of it. Come on.”
We set off at a brisk pace away from the theater. We take the few blocks north to Bourbon and then over to the Marigny.
My heart clenches.
Unbearable pain twists in my stomach the closer we get to his door.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper. “I can’t be there without him.”
Roland stops and faces me, studying my face. He turns on his heel and we start off in a different direction. We go two more blocks north and then another block east. We walk up to a narrow house, and I realize he’s taking out a key. One half of this small place is his.
We step inside, and I’m in a living room. Just past it is another room, I assume the bedroom. Finally, in the back is the kitchen with a small bathroom off to the side.
“I’ve always wondered where you live,” I whisper, stepping slowly on the wide plank floors.
It’s clearly an ancient structure, but the inside is restored and well-decorated with traditional New Orleans trappings. Fleur de Lises and slate tiles, vintage wood and leather. He drops onto the couch shaking his head. Then he almost laughs.
“You did it. That bastard thought he could get away with it, but you did what I could never do. I actually feel like celebrating.”
I sit on the floor in front of his large coffee table. “It’s wicked to feel that way… isn’t it?” My stomach is so tight.
He shakes his head. “Perhaps. But you can’t say you wish he was still alive.”
I’m quiet several minutes, thinking. I remember my arms acting on their own, almost instinctively. I killed him the same way I’d slam my shoe against a palmetto bug. Repeatedly.
“I’m glad he’s dead,” I whisper. “But what now?”
Roland exhales and takes my hand in his. I study his face, which has become serious.
The muscle in his jaw twitches, and at last he speaks. “Now we continue like nothing happened. You leave with Freddie and stay in France. It’s the only place you’ll be safe until we’re sure no one knows what happened.”
I pull my hand back. “I’m afraid.”
“Of what? Staying in France or being caught?”
“All of it. That I did it. That it makes me happy, and that I have to run. That I’m a murderer, and I don’t care.”
“You’re a survivor. You did what you had to do to protect yourself and the ones you love from a monster. A predator.”
Tears fill my eyes. “I want it all to go away. I want none of this to have ever happened to me.”
“But it did happen. You have to face it, accept it for what it is, and then put it behind you. It’s a part of you now.”
My insides recoil at the thought. “I don’t want this to be a part of me.”
“Too late. It happened and there it is. If you pretend it didn’t, it wins.”
I don’t answer. I cross my arms over my middle, and turn away. “It’s too much.”
He slides off the couch to sit beside me on the floor and pull me to him. “It’s safe to admit that. But you will get past this.”
I shake my head. “I won’t. I’m not as strong as you.”
Instantly he releases me and laughs. “What? You’re strong enough to kill a man. You’re dangerously strong.” He slides a curl off my cheek. “Stop being afraid. Own your bravery.”
“I’m afraid of it,” I whisper.
“Oh, Lara,” he breathes. “Look at all the things you’ve survived. And you’re alive.”
“And this is what I have to live with.”
He slides his hand down the back of my head, holding the side of my cheek. “It’s going to work out. It simply has to. We won’t let the bad guys win.”
I lean into him, and he holds me for a bit in silence as I think about him and what I know of his past. He was abused like me, but unlike me, he isn’t trapped. With his talent, he could go anywhere, do anything.
“Why did you stay in New Orleans?”
He doesn’t answer, instead he glances at me with warmth in his eyes, sadness, too. My stomach tightens as I realize what he’d never said, the things he’d never spoken, but he’d demonstrated in so many other ways.
“You stayed for me.”
He shrugs and tries to swagger. “Well, not entirely for you. I also had this fabulous offer to be the musical director at a… somewhat decent burlesque show in town.”
“Somewhat decent,” I repeat.
“You have to admit, darling, between your voice and my songs we really took the old girl over the top. Take tonight, for example. You were phenomenal.”
“You didn’t trust Gavin. You stayed to make sure I was safe.”
Roland sighs and pats my hand. “Your mother got me out of more trouble.” His voice becomes tender. “She saved me.”
I study his handsome face. I don’t remember my mother. “I can’t leave you like this. I can’t put you at such risk.”
“I have always been at risk. At least now it’ll be easier. I won’t have to be constantly watching your back, too.”
He tries to act cavalier, but I’m not convinced.
“There’s nowhere else for you to go,” I whisper, and for a moment he doesn’t answer.
But with a wave of his hand, it’s gone. “Now that sounds very dire indeed.” His smile returns along with his playful arrogance. “I prefer to look at it as ‘limited mobility.’”
I shake my head and look down. He puts an arm around my shoulders. “It’s hard for you to see things clearly right now, but it’ll pass.”
“I don’t know what you want me to see.”
“That I love this city. I love to make music. And dance.” He waves his hands and rotates his slim hips. “I’ll handle this, and I’ll be fine. Don’t you trust me?”
I close my eyes, leaning my forehead against his cheek. “I do.”
“I’m more worried about the show now,” he says. “You’re my muse, you know.”
The thought of saying goodbye to him overwhelms me. My first love who has always made me smile. My gallant music man who taught me to survive.
“Oh, Roland, I wish I could be more like you.”
“Darling, I wouldn’t change a thing about you.” He leans forward and kisses my nose. “Now come. Time for you to sleep.”
24
“Hope is like a bird that senses the dawn and carefully starts to sing in the darkness…”
Lara