The question hits me in a way I ain’t expect. Never bothered me before. Just was. But I can hear the disappointment in her voice, and it’s like a jab to the gut.
“Man like me don’t put down roots.”
Her finger traces shapes on my chest, pondering what that’ll mean for her, most like. And for the first time, I ponder it too.
When I think of Alice and how the stars brought us together—if you put stock in such a thing—I conjure a picture of her, my young at her breast, sitting in a rocking chair at the hearth without a trouble in the world. But it’s a picture that can’t be real. I’ve been building a castle in the air myself, fool that I am.
But holding something so precious in my arms, I can’t stand the thought of letting it go.
“Maybe you could one day,” she says. “Somewhere far away, in a small town.”
“Suppose one day, maybe. Truth is, ain’t never dreamt of such things. Hope’s just a rope for hangin’ yourself.”
She looks up at me, wrinkle in her nose. “What an awful thing to say.”
“It’s true.”
“Perhaps with that attitude it’s true, but it does not have to be. Sure, hope alone is something, but it doesn’t do much alone. Hope and action together, well then, you might have a chance.”
I press a kiss to the top of her head. Part of me wants to believe, the other part thinking of the roses and butterflies that live in that pretty head of hers.
“What would you have us do?”
She sighs and clicks her tongue, like she’s struggling to decide whether it’s safe to speak her piece.
“Go on,” I prod.
“If we run, they’ll keep chasing us. But if we stand up to them, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”
I exhale slow, studying her in the dark. “You say that like it’s simple. Like the Shermans are just some school bullies needin’ a good wallopin’.”
She doesn’t flinch. Just lifts her head. “I’m only suggesting we send a message. Something that embarrasses them. That makes people think twice about staying in one of their hotels. Not with guns, but something clever.”
There’s a pause while I stare, trying to figure out who’s thisweshe keeps talking about and decide if she picked up some crazy pills at the market earlier. But it seems like she’s already given it a lot of thought and curiosity wins out.
“You have somethin’ in mind?”
She shifts, half sitting now, hands folded politely in her lap, like she’s excited to recite a poem. “There’s a Sherman Hotel here in New Orleans. All their hotels encourage guests to store their valuables in the hotel safe behind the front desk. The inn would protect stocks, bonds, cash, jewelry. We’d take an inventory each evening before locking it for the night.”
I think back on the night she made me leave empty handed and squeeze my eyes shut. All that loot, left behind. This woman will be my death.
“What if someone broke into their vault? Took valuables. If brazen enough, it may even make the cover of the paper. People wouldn’t feel safe staying there anymore.”
I stare at her, jaw slack.
“You’re talkin’ about robbin’ the Shermans?”
Her chin lifts, just slightly. “Don’t mistake my manners for weakness, Mr. Randolph. I may not believe in theft, but I do believe in self-defense. Besides, the Shermans carry insurance. The guests will be repaid tenfold.”
I run a hand over my face. “You know how hard it’d be? They got men, steel doors, watchers on every floor.”
“I imagine you’ve broken into worse.”
“I have. But not with someone like you taggin’ along and not without spillin’ blood.”
She leans in then, her breath warm against my throat. “I know all of the Sherman hotel policies. I could pose as a guest. We’re not allowed to let guests into the vault, but once an important member of the Astral Society had brought along a large meteor specimen to present to the other men. It tooka porter and two hands to move it. The man was a pest and inquired about it each evening. We couldn’t very well drag it out to the front desk, but because of his status, the man was allowed in the vault with an escort supervising. What if I posed as a guest? Checked in an item too large to easily move?”
I pull back just enough to look her full in the face. The words I hope to find are lost in a storm of shock, and all I can say is, “Well, I’ll be fucked sideways.”
