Jezebel (23 page)

“
We’re going to
a rent party.”

Shane hesitated on the curb.
“You’re getting even aren’t you?”

“
Just planning on
having a little fun.”

“
At my expense of
course?”

Instead of answering, she
winked then looped her arm with his.

Shane ground his teeth. He
didn’t like to be anyone’s pansy, but if he had to suffer
through a rent party he’d do it to make amends.

They walked a couple of
blocks west then turned north. At this time of night, Shane expected
the street to be dead, people in their beds fast asleep. Not in
Forte Green. Lights blazed in windows up and down the block, a group
of youngsters, warmly dressed against the elements, played stick ball
in the street and some guys played craps under a street light at the
end of the block.

But
this wasn’t their final destination. Celeste walked them deeper
into unknown territory until they finally stood outside a red brick
tenement. Rather unremarkable, the building copied the half-a-dozen
or so other buildings lining the block. However, the building seemed
to sway and keep time with the music pulsing within its walls.

Shane actually looked
uncertain. “Are they’re expecting us?” he asked.

“
You don’t need
an invitation for this party, daddy. Everyone’s welcome.”

Shane doubted that was the
complete truth. They were in the heart of Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn’s
largest African American community.

Even
if he had reservations, he wasn’t turning tail now. He knew
what she was up to and she wasn’t going to win.

Shane slipped his arm from
hers, but caught her hand at the last moment.

“
Let’s light the
place up.”

With her sputtering behind
him, they climbed the front steps and went inside.

Shane instantly regretted
his decision.

The tenement’s foyer
was dark and dank and smelled of human excrement and boiling pig
feet. The only bright spot was the sound of a trumpet blaring
somewhere above them.

As if she frequented slums
every day, she gamely stepped over empty whiskey bottles and other
discarded items to reach the stairs.

“
What in the blazes…”

Celeste followed Shane’s
line of vision to a mountain of garbage in the corner. Knowing
anything could be under that pile containing everything from
discarded underwear to banana peelings, Celeste tugged on his hand.

Shane remained fixated. The
pile had begun to pulsate, come to life. A warning was barely on her
lips when a rat, the size of a three year old child, came scuttling
from underneath.

“
You could’ve
warned me,” Shane muttered as he took the stairs in one leap.

Celeste touched her lips.
“It was right here, I swear.”

Looking highly doubtful,
Shane gazed down at her. “I’m calling your bluff.”

He leaned down and pressed
his lips against hers. Caught off guard, Celeste gasped, opening
herself to a full mouth kiss that made her toes curl, but ended all
too soon.

“
Sweet, but deadly,”
he rasped, thumbing his bottom lip. His gaze was so intent and so
feral, she looked away. “Come on.” He grabbed her hand
and heat shot up her arm. “Let’s get a move on before I
do something I’ll regret.”

Celeste led the way up six
flights of stairs and down a narrow hallway lined with identical sets
of doors, peeling, chipped and sagging woefully against their frames.

They passed several
residents slouching in the hallway, imbibing liquor from brown paper
bags. Some yelled and screamed about petty things, one man even used
the bathroom where he stood, turning his back for privacy.

As they neared their final
destination, Celeste snapped open her clutch and withdrew an
embroidered change purse.

“
What are you doing?”
he asked.

“
You can’t get
in until you pay the host. And that should be enough for both of
us.”

“
No
one pays my way.” He shoved his hand in his pocket, withdrew a
money clip and a wad worthy of any egg and butter man, then peeled
two five dollar bills off and handed them over.

To avoid an argument,
Celeste took the money but that didn’t mean she had to spend
it. Turning her back to him, she knocked loudly on the door.

As if on cue, it opened.
Heat, music, and the pungent odor of pig feet pushed into the hallway
almost knocking her over with its intensity. On the other side of
the threshold, a large woman squeezed into a burnt orange dress,
teetered on swollen ankles.

“
Food
and refreshments are in the kitchen,” she drawled, holding out
her hand. “Music’s in the par…” The woman’s
gaze narrowed on Shane. Celeste held her breath. One never knew how
folks took to having mixed company.

“
Who’s
he with?” she asked.

Celeste
gripped Shane’s hand and pulled him into the tiny apartment.
Since the foyer was smaller than a tinder box, the hostess scuttled
backward.

“
He’s
with me.” Celeste greased the woman’s palm with a crisp
five dollar bill—more than enough to cover a week’s worth
of rent.

A
makeshift dance floor had been set up in the living room. They’d
removed most of the parlor furniture and replaced it with several
folding chairs and a single red light bulb hanging from a cord.

A
few couples cavorted in the middle of the room while music rattled
from an old phonograph. Others sat around holding plates filled with
food or sipping on mason jars brimming with bathtub gin.

Celeste turned away from
temptation and headed down a narrow hallway, vaguely smelling of
mothballs.

“
Here give me your
coat,” she said as they entered a small bedroom.

Sparsely furnished, the room
was tidy and clean. A dresser with a mirror sat against one wall. A
wrought iron bed covered with several coats and hats hugged the
opposite wall. A little boy, fighting sleep and holding a glass bowl
filled with coins in his lap, sat on a wooden chair next to the bed.

“
I need to get in on
this racket,” Shane muttered. “The poor kid should be in
bed.”

Hearing Shane’s voice,
the child’s eyes flickered open. Celeste bent down to talk to
him. “What’s your name, cutie?”

“
Jeremiah,” the
small boy whispered.

“
Well, Jeremiah, how
much is it to leave our garments with you for safekeeping?”

“
A nickel a piece.”

Shane dug in his pocket and
pulled out a five dollar bill. “This is for our things and the
rest of the night. Now climb up on the bed and go to sleep.”

To Celeste’s surprise,
the boy gifted Shane with a toothless grin. Holding tightly to the
jar, he then climbed on top of the bed and disappeared behind the
mound of clothing.

“
Are
you hungry?”

“
Starved,” Shane
said with a crooked grin. “I’m a growing boy.”

Celeste
eyed him up and down and her pulse quickened. Indeed. There was
nothing boyish about Shane Brennan.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

With
Shane on her heels, they skirted the living room where bodies
glistened with sweat and limbs jerked in time to Jelly Roll Morton’s
Wolverine Blues
,
like chickens trying to fly.

In
the kitchen, Celeste picked up two plates off the sideboard.
Ignoring several sideway glances, she handed both to Shane.

“
Here,” she
said. “You hold these while I fill them.”

Armed with a game plan and
Shane on her heels, Celeste sidled over to the kitchen table and
joined a line five people deep. Of course, the procession moved
slowly. People always took their time when feeding their faces.

Starving by the time their
turn came, Celeste abandoned her strategy. Instead, she would pile
both of their plates with a little bit of everything.

Plate in hand, a tall, lanky
fellow in a royal blue zoot suit slipped in front of her.

In
different company, Celeste would’ve ripped into him. She was
trying to repair her reputation with Shane not completely destroy it
altogether. Going against her baser instincts, she pressed her lips
together and silently bored holes into his back.

As if suddenly sensing her
cursing him to hell and back, the jerk glanced over his shoulder.
“You don’t mind if I cut in, do you?” Not bothering
to wait for her reply, he picked up a serving spoon and ladled some
chitterlings.

“
I mind.” Shane
shot forward so fast, he moved in a blur. He hooked a finger inside
the other man’s collar, clamped his other hand on his shoulder
and pulled him out of line.

“
Hey!” Caught
up, the fellow tried to jerk around. Shane was just too light on his
feet and the two ended up circling the kitchen.

Tired and sweating, the
other man eventually slumped against the kitchen sink.

“
Had enough?”

“
Throw him out,”
a woman behind Celeste jeered.

“
Yeah,” another
spoke up. “Make him pound pavement.”

Ignoring the peanut gallery,
Shane rattled the man’s collar. “Had enough?” he
repeated.

“
Get your dirty mitts
off me,” the man wheezed.

“
Back of the line?”

The
man shuffled his feet and mumbled incoherently. Afraid this could go
either way, Celeste held her breath.

Again,
Shane jerked the man’s collar. “Back of the line or
leave.”

“
I-I’m gone,”
he choked. “I’m gone.”

Shane
spun the guy around and released him. Disoriented from being let go
so abruptly, the man stumbled forward, crashing into the ice box. He
bounced off it then staggered from the room.

Celeste
didn’t witness his walk of shame. She feasted on Shane as he
lumbered back over to her side. His chivalry had to be the sexiest
thing she’d ever witnessed. Fighting the urge to pull him into
her arms, she turned toward the kitchen table. Groaning from the
weight of several platters, it wasn’t as tempting as Shane, but
it would keep her out of trouble for the time being.

Very
much aware of his presence, she filled their plates with everything
from candied yams sprinkled with brown sugar to perlo rice and corn
bread, collard greens, fried catfish and of course pig feet.

“
Did I miss anything?”
She’d reached the end of the line and only a jar of pickled
onions remained untouched.

“
The kitchen sink.”

In a playful mood, Celeste
stepped toward the wash basin.

Growling, Shane stepped
between her and the sink, then steered her into the living room.

While
they were in the kitchen, it seemed as if the party had grown
exponentially. Eyeing a vacant chair, she took the plates from him.
“Sit down and we’ll share it.”

Shane slung his jacket
across the back of the chair. In his shirtsleeves, he seemed bigger,
taller. Celeste couldn’t help admiring him. He had to be one
of the best formed men on the face of the earth.

He
patted his lap and Celeste faltered. Her gaze flitted around the
room and she took in the surreptitious glances and out–right
stares. Had she gone too far? It was one thing mixing company, quite
another to breach a certain level of intimacy even the most open
minded of people might not be able to stomach.

Still, his chivalry in the
kitchen and her desire to make amends weighed heavily on her
conscience. Mind made up, Celeste plopped herself down on his lap.
She even made a grand show of getting comfortable by wiggling against
him. Of course, it took her some time to find a sweet spot,
considering how rock hard his thighs were and the pleasure she
derived from it.

“
Keep squirming and
you’re going to be in deep trouble.”

Celeste looked over her
shoulder and was brought up short. Looking verifiably hot under the
collar, Shane’s tanned skin had become flush and rosy. Celeste
stilled her hips.

Funny, how her effect on him
caused her own ardor to rise. Her breasts suddenly felt heavy and her
sex tingled.

“
What if I want
trouble?” she asked, angling toward him.

As
if they were two magnets, he leaned in as well. Assuming he was
throwing caution aside and aiming to kiss her, her gaze dipped to his
mouth.

Instead of an early
Christmas, he simply smiled at her then relieved her of one of the
plates. “Behave,” he paused to rip into a hunk of fried
catfish. His eyes rolled to the ceiling as he slowly chewed then
finally, “There’s plenty of time for trouble.”