“You’ll do no such thing. Just keep your voice down, or better yet—”
“If you want me to leave you alone so badly, then of course I shall. But at least do yourself and your show the courtesy of asking your star and stage manager.”
“Vicente’s not fond of you.”
“So I’ve observed. I don’t need his fondness, just his trust.”
“Youdefinitelydon’t have that, nor mine.”
“No?” Jago folded his arms. “Vicente, I understand, but from you? That does wound me. You’ve been, forgive me, a bloody prick ever since I came in here and over what? An admittedly provocative show I didn’t create that’s made me as curious as you are?”
“You kept telling me not to interfere. Why? Damn it, my friends were being hurt.”
“You said your friends were safely in bed until you woke them in the wee hours with an unnecessary phone call. Yet they were also there, on stage. We know this because I saw the same show you did.” He leaned closer, whispering to Alex over the counter. “Only makes it more intriguing, no?”
“Look after things while I’m gone, won’t you Alex?” said Victoria, hanging up her apron and gathering her purse. “Matteo was short this morning, but he promised he’d be restocked by noon.”
“Of course,” Alex replied, trying to ignore Jago, even though Victoria refused to do the same.
She leaned close to his ear. “And your boyfriend popping in isn’t going to be a daily habit, is it?”
Alex offered her a sheepish smile, which Victoria, already halfway to the front door, ignored. He turned back to Jago. “Why did you try and stop me? Don’t tell me it was out of courtesy to the other patrons. They weredead.” He’d meant to whisper, but the looks he now got from the occupied table spoke to how miserably he’d failed. The customers began to gather their things. Nice going, idiot. “I’ll get you that coffee.”
From the corner of his eye, he watched Red Jacket approach the counter with a fistful of pesetas. He also saw Jago watching the man with keen interest.
Putting the money on the counter, Red Jacket offered Alex a shy smile. “Thanks again for coming to the movie.”
“Thank you,” Alex replied, trying to fix his professional demeanour back in place.
Jago finally spoke. “The next one will be better.”
“Pardon?” Red Jacket frowned.
“I thought you liked it?” offered Alex, not sure what else to say.
“I did,” Jago said. “I also know the next one will be better.”
Visibly perplexed, Red Jacket gave each of them a nod before joining his friends outside.
Alex set the coffee down in front of Jago.
“You seem rattled,” Jago said.
“Why aren’t you? You’ve seen it all before, I suppose? Well, abracadabra and yippee fuck for you.”
“I don’t mean rattled by the show. Something else has happened. I felt it from your customers as well. A death, perhaps?”
Alex swallowed. Was Jago an empath now? A psychic? Besides, ‘rattled’ wasn’t the right word. He hadn’t felt much of anything about Si-Man’s death, or what it meant for them.
“He’s dead.”
“Who?”
“The performance artist we saw last night. He drowned. Just… it seems weird, is all.”
“Oh, that’s tragic. So… what does that mean for your show?”
Alex’s eyes widened twice, first at the insensitivity, then again as the implication hit home. “I haven’t thought about that. This really isn’t the time.”
