“Did the Big Hoose actually reform you?” I chuckled. “We shouldn’t have any trouble tonight, but am I gonna need a new man when the real show begins?”
“Laugh it up,” Bashir muttered, waving a couple of chips at me. He twisted his hand around until the chips pointed to the sky. “That’s what I get for trying to compliment you. You know when it comes time to rumble, I’ve got your back. Always have, always will.”
My scan of the crowd finally found my quarry. She stood behind the wedding party, with some Turner cousins, judging by their tartans. I pointed her out for Bashir’s benefit.
“Right there, the floral dress,” I said.
He held out his hand, wanting my binoculars. I glared at his greasy fingers. He shrugged and wiped them on his jeans. Only then did I pass them over.
“Not a bad looking bird,” Bashir said with a whistle. “At least you aren’t stalking some scabby bint.”
“You’ve seen her picture before.” I frowned at my old friend.
“Yeah, when you were just cyberstalking her,” he replied. “ But you never know with photoshop, now do you? Those pics could have been retouched. She had black hair in them, not the auburn she’s got now.”
Had I not been watching as she and her family got out of the taxi, that difference would have surprised me too. The lighter color matched the groom, would have matched the Bastard but he’d gone grey years ago.
“There’s this thing called hair dye, you know,” I added. “Maybe she wanted to fit in better with her father’s family.”
“Doesn’t look like it’s working very well,” Bashir said.
He didn’t offer the binoculars back. Squinting, I saw enough that I could only agree with him, though. The boys to either side of her sported flat-lipped expressions. A girl standing near said something, a snide comment, I guessed, from the way she held her head. She and the boys laughed. Their target and mine only shrugged and replied off hand, not even looking at the girl.
“I wish I could read lips,” said Bashir. “Looks like you’re not the only one stalking poor little Emma.”
“Don’t underestimate her,” I replied and fished into my bag. “As for hearing them, technology provides when your body fails. I’ve got a parabolic mic in here.”
“Well, hello James Bond,” Bashir chuckled.
I aimed the small dish at the conversation. A jumble of voices crackled through the speaker. With another hand to stabilize the mic, their voices came clear.
“Yeah,” said a male voice, “if I were you, I wouldn’t come back here after the big man dies. When your brother runs the families, he’s not going to allow a bastard to break up our family like the Cooks.”
“The Cooks?” Emma asked.
“The first of the families to fall. Desmond Cook served in the war and came home with a little bastard baby. When he took control of his family, he left everything to her, not that she survived long,” the male voice replied. “We can’t have that, and your brother won’t want to be reminded of his dad’s infidelity, and with a whore, no less.”
“Dancer,” Emma corrected. Her eyes remained focused ahead like the tormenting cousins didn’t exist. A throaty chuckle blew from her lips. It began mirthless and dry but cackled at the end. “Now why the fuck would I want to come back here? Yeah, I’m going to pick up my stakes in Seattle and move to a place that gets even less sun and a lot more rain.”
Her taunting cousins sucked lemons for a moment. They’d been so sure their barbs would strike true but she’d shaken them off.
“Your mother seems to get enough sun there, that’s for sure,” the girl cousin snorted.
I leaned closer, as if a few inches would offer a better view of the conversation four stories below. Never should have offered the binoculars to Bashir. It was never too late to refine the plan. Any bit of information I learned about her would help me seal the deal later.
“My father certainly approves,” Emma hissed. “Maybe Ewan and I will have another brother or sister soon, another bastard to steal his inheritance?”
Bashir barked a laugh. My quarry’s other hunters fell silent, jaws dropped. The pipers began their song and the wedding party shuffled along the street.
“She’s a fire cracker, that’s for sure,” Bashir said. The binoculars tracked the group.
“Don’t you have a stepfather?” said the first cousin to recover. “Your mother’s a married woman.”
“When has that stopped anyone?” Emma replied. “You think my mom loves Sal? She loves his money, the security he offers. As far as I know, mom loves two people in the world, me and the little annoyance. The few times I’ve seen her around my father, well that makes me wonder if there is a third.”
“But he wouldn’t!” stammered the female cousin.
She poked her finger against Emma’s chest. The taller girl just smirked. The two guys inched away from her, but watched the girls’ every move.
