“Whippersnappers,” I said. And then at Abe’s look. “Never mind. I think the clerk had their names and copies of their IDs for the cops.” I tilted my head at Abraham. “What language was the old guy speaking?”
His shoulders rose. “Aramaic, I think. I answered him in Greek, and he seemed to understand.”
“And why were you here?”
“An errand for the gatekeeper. He said something was here that needed protection.”
I sat back onto the scratchy material of a club chair.
The gatekeeper was only slightly friendlier than Attila the Hun, so I avoided him as much as possible, but he knew his shit. If he was concerned, then there was definitely something going on here.
“I got halfway down the hall when I heard you hollering,” Abraham explained. “So I backtracked to the stairs.” He turned to me. “Could have called.”
“I did. It went to voicemail.”
Abraham pulled out his phone and frowned at it.
“Huh. That’s weird. The signal must be iffy here. By the way, who is watching my bar?”
I swallowed. “Uh. The day drinkers.”
“God help me. The sisters? I’ll have to buy more top-shelf vodka and whiskey now. Thanks, Hunter.”
“You didn’t answer your phone!”
“Well, the old guy’s at the at the hospital. He’s their problem now. Let’s head back before Silver drinks me out of business.”
Chapter Two
Regge gets an awkward houseguest
Even after a year in this time, I still marveled at the cell phone in my hand. My mentor, Theo, was a hundred miles away in New York, and the phone made it feel like he was right here in my living room.
The small, dingy room was nothing special, but it was a palace compared to places I’d lived. Theo had provided enough funds to lease fancier lodgings, but the third-floor walkup suited me fine. I had come from humble beginnings and couldn’t bring myself to spend the money.
“The meeting went well,” he was saying. “We’ll be home by next week.”
I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “It will be good to see you. And Isabelle.” They spent a fair amount of time at Izzy’s house in Philadelphia, but a lot of Theo’s work was in New York, and I always felt better when he was close to home. “I need to go to work now, so I shall leave you.” I bit my lip. Taking my leave over the phone was always awkward. After a few more seconds, I said goodbye and hung up.
Rising, I stripped the bed and pushed it into its couch form—the futon being another fabulous invention of this time.
Work was a hotel bar on the other side of Philadelphia. The route took me two buses to get there, but the city passed before me in a blur of noise and color. My work was washing glasses and cutting fruit. But with tips I could pay my rent. And it was honest work. I was twenty-five now—well past the age of being kept like a youngster. Theo had accumulated wealth here and was generous. But I relished my independence.
“Good afternoon, Mistress Delilah,” I said, entering through the employee’s entrance of the San Marco Hotel.
The elder assistant chef was cutting onions, her face full of tears. “I’ve told you, it’s just Dee, or Delilah, not Miss or Mistress.”
“I am aware. But I was taught that a lady of your good standing will be addressed appropriately.”
“You a crazy kid, you know that?”
I grinned at her. “Yes, ma’am.” I punched my code into the timer on the wall.
The shift went by quickly. I fetched supplies and watched Chase, the bartender, make Manhattans and martinis.
The San Marco was a far cry from Pinkie’s, the bar where I’d learned the modern bar trade. Soft lighting, gleaming leather, and the delicate clink of glasses was nothing like the neighborhood bar and its quirky clientele. I smoothed my white shirtfront as a woman crossed the bar to sit on the end stool. The tips here were far better, but I missed Pinkie’s camaraderie. At least, that’s what I told myself I missed. Not a certain bartender with wild colors in his hair.
Hunter had always made me feel safe. Welcome. Like I wasn’t a weird artifact or oddball Brit.
