Part 3 (2/2)
”Back to the birthday party?”
”Back to the party.”
8.
From Harvester Temisk's digs I ambled over to The Palms, an upscale eatery and club operated by the dark elf Morley Dotes. My number one good buddy. I approached warily. There might be trouble with Belinda's troops if they were setting up already.
”Holy s.h.i.+t! Will ya look at dis? It ain't even been a week an' here it comes agin!”
It's remotely possible that not all of Morley's a.s.sociates welcome me all the time. ”I was pa.s.sing by. Thought I'd drop in and see how you're all doing. How're you doing, Sarge?”
Sarge is fat and balding and tattooed and nastier than a bushel of scorpions when he's in a good mood. He didn't seem particularly cheerful today.
Another one enough like Sarge to be his ugly big brother, with extra scorpions, shuffled out of the kitchen. ”Hey, Puddle. How's it going, man?”
Puddle brandished a commercial-weight rolling pin.
This didn't look encouraging.
Morley emerged behind Puddle. Amazing. Dotes seldom has much to do with the daily grind of his place. ”What do you want, Garrett?”
”d.a.m.n, Morley. Get a sense of humor. I know a guy on the Landing...”
”What do you want, Garrett?”
”Right now I'd like to know why it's hilarious when you stick me with a foul-beaked fowl like the G.o.dd.a.m.n Parrot, but it's haul out the meat cleavers when I get you back with a nympho nymph.”
Two more staffers materialized. Lugging industrial-grade butcher's equipment. In a vegetarian establishment. ”Them new-generation eggplants must be fierce.” Everybody seemed intensely interested in managing a wily envelopment of their good buddy Garrett.
Not promising at all.
Dotes made a slight gesture. ”One more chance, Garrett.”
”I wanted to check on how things are coming, setting up for tonight. And to say hi.”
”And why are you interested?”
”Because I have to be here, cabbage breath boy. I can't weasel out. And I don't feel good about the setup.”
Morley glared at me. Slim and dark, handsome and always impeccably bedecked in the latest fas.h.i.+on, he radiates a sensuality that sets them swooning even when he strolls through a nun shop.
”You got smudge under your nose.” He'd begun sporting a thin little mustache.
Morley didn't grin. ”Sit down, Garrett.”
I picked a chair. The one closest to the door.
Morley sat across from me. He stared. Eventually, he said, ”Word's out that you're on Belinda's payroll now.”
”That's a crock. Who said that?”
”Belinda. Last time she was here messing the arrangements around.”
”It ain't true. You know me better. I wouldn't work for her even if I needed work. And I don't. I've got me a nice little piece of the hottest manufactory in TunFaire. You're just trolling for an excuse to get your bile up.”
”She was convincing.” Dotes studied me some more. Something big was bothering him and all his boys. n.o.body wanted Mama Garrett's favorite boy for a friend.
”Spit it out, Morley. What's going on?”
”This party is bound to go bad. And here you come, supposedly Belinda's full-time top stud, ambling in ten minutes after your honey sends word the party won't happen here after all. The Palms will just cater. The party will happen in Whitefield Hall. Because my place isn't big enough. Too many people in the life want to pay their respects to the kingpin.”
”I don't know anything about any Whitefield Hall. Is that the Veterans' Memorial hall that commemorates the War of Coady Byrne's Broken Tooth?”
Karenta had a lot of little wars over a lot of little provocations in Imperial times. Then we changed up, became a kingdom, and jumped into one big war that lasted over a hundred years. The one I was in. Along with every human male I know, including my brother and father and grandfather, and Grandpa's father and grandfather and all their brothers and cousins and b.a.s.t.a.r.d kids.
The killing is over now. So far, the peace has been worse than the war.
”I don't know anything about your wars,” Dotes replied. Being half dark elf, he enjoys treaty exemption from some human laws. Like the one establis.h.i.+ng conscription. And he doesn't give a feather about history. He doesn't care about last week-unless last week might sneak up and whack him on the back of the head. ”But it is some kind of soldiers' memorial.”
Morley is shallow. Morley is pretty. Morley is the nightmare that wakes fathers screaming in the night. He's the daydream their daughters take to bed, fantasizing. He's the bad boy the girls all want, thinking they can tame him, before they settle for some dullard who'll just work for a living and treat them like they're people.
I'm so jealous.
”I can't picture it. What's special about it? Why would she move there?”
”I told you. Because she can get more people in. Because it isn't operated by people she doesn't trust.”
”Belinda doesn't trust you?”
”Are you that naive? Of course she doesn't. Not to be what she wants me to be.”
”What would that be?”
”Her tool, fool.”
”Don't start with the vegetarian poetry. It don't make sense on a day when the sun is is s.h.i.+ning.” s.h.i.+ning.”
Dotes shook his pretty head. He didn't want to play. ”Belinda wouldn't trust me if I swore ten thousand ironbound oaths. That's part of her insanity. She can't trust anybody. Except you. Probably for the same sick reason Chodo trusted you. From where I sit, that would be because you're too d.a.m.ned dim to be anything but honest.”
Morley's morals and ethics are situation dependent. Which doesn't stop him being a nice guy. Most of the time. When it's convenient.
”Your expression of confidence warms the c.o.c.kles of my heart, Mr. Dotes.”
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