Vivian licked her lips, fluffed her hair and looked Jay up and down. “Yeah... I got a fewopinions, all right.”
I could not be jealous of her advances in a moment when Vivian’s interest in Jay might get us through the damn door once and for all.
She looked at Zihan. “And who are you?”
“Hello,” Zihan said, with a wide smile. “Zihan. Just here for the dramatics.”
“They’re my friends,” I said. “Please let us through. I promise nobody’s gonna snitch.”
Finally, Vivian resigned and opened the door wider. “Fine! But you’ll be explaining this to Jordan on your own. I vouched for you, but I can’t do it for your friends.”
I walked them through the hideout, and to the kitchen, where the counters were crowded with tubes and tanks, glass bottles of spirit, pitchers of syrup and packages of mint julep.
Daisy was at the stove dunking droppers into a boiling pot. She turned her head, and her eyes widened as she blinked at us. “Um, Nick? Are you aware there’s a Jay Gatsby standing next to you?”
“Oh, hi, Daisy,” Jay said, looking up at the ceiling. “So,thisis your hideout.”
Jordan entered the kitchen as if on cue and squinted at Jay and then Zihan. She looked around at the empty air, as if searching for an answer. “Now how in the hell?” she said.
“Don’t worry!” I told her. “They can be trusted—I promise.”
“Nick,” Jordan said, putting her head in her hand. “I toldyouto come to the warehouse. I didn’t say bring your friends.”
“Jordan, nice to see you again,” Jay interrupted, his tone deep and measured. “I understand why you’re upset. And if I’d known where Nick was taking me, I might have cautioned him to handle this more delicately. He’s focused on his investigation—maybe too focused to think through every angle.” He cast me a glance before turning back to her. “But you and I are in business together now, which means your needs are my needs. Whatever you need—a favor, a shipment, a connection—I can get it for you. My father knowssomany people!”
Jordan crossed her arms, eyes narrowing at him. “Oh, I see. So, you think you can just...smooththis over with your talk about your elite connections?”
“We’re here now, aren’t we?” Jay said. “We can’t afford to work at odds. Imagine we come out of this with new information on a crime that all of Harlem cares to see solved. You can use it to gain influence over the clientele you work with.”
Jordan exhaled, mulling it over. Finally, she pointed at me. “You’re lucky your man’s good with words, Nick.”
“My...man?”
“And I do like seeing this side of you,” Jordan continued, over my words. “Showing focus and intention for once. Don’t let me regret this.” She turned back to Jay. “We do this? We do it my way. There are a few things you’ll need before you go sniffing around Aphrodite.”
“Thank you, Jordan,” Jay said, his tone full of charm.
“Don’t thank me yet,” she growled, heading for the door. “If this goes bad, I’m not saving your asses. Now, you’re going to need a few things to successfully pull this off.”
Jordan led us to a part of the warehouse where punching bags hung from the ceiling and target boards were arranged on the floor. The soaring ceilings and large rooms provided ample space to train, and some of her crew, dressed in black masks, were out here laying combos into the swinging bags.
Jordan disappeared into a storage room and brought out a big black bag.
“Cops are cracking down on runners and ruffians,” she said. “We have to be prepared for anything we find in the streets. And when my people are on jobs, you have to be ready for the heat to come down. No getting beat by the cops this time.”
Jordan pulled out a long gun, staring at Jay the whole time, as if she wanted to make sure he saw the strength of her firepower. “So, you put the doohickeys in the whodunnits,” she said, loading a dart into a vessel in the gun. “And you strap it over your shoulder, like this.” She raised the musket, closing one eye, and aimed at the target.
“Some street inventors rigged my gun, so it shoots darts now. Harmless and built for training.” Jordan fired the musket and out shot a dart, which hit the bullseye on the target across the room. “But in the field, we use the real thing. The guy you want—Pierre—I asked around, and you’re right, Nick, he protects his clients from getting blasted in the press. If there’s anyone whoknows who started the fire, there’s a good chance that Pierre is the one to give ’em hush money to keep ’em silent. You find Pierre, you might find the truth.”
Jordan took more suitcases out from storage and opened one hard suitcase featuring another assortment of weapons and tools. “This is dangerous. You must be strategic.” She turned to Jay and Zihan. “I still got half a mind to kick both of you out, so show me what you got. I want to feel comfortable sending you out with my things. Daisy’s used to stuff like this, so it’s probably smart for her to go too.”
Daisy, who’d followed us to the training area, nodded in dutiful agreement as Jordan pointed at Zihan.
“Let’s start with you,” she said.
Zihan walked to the center of the room and picked up a tiny steel tube, the size of a battery. He pressed a button on the side and the tube lengthened to a staff. “Aha!” he said with a smile. “I thought that’s what this was. Ba used to use this on set to train before his accident.” He began to punch at the air with it. “You punch with the stick. It doesn’t do much damage, but it’s good to fight off crowds if there is a lot of people. The power is in the speed.” Zihan tossed me the staff.
I caught it and then I stepped forward as if I was next up in a talent show. Zihan moved to the end of the line. I repeated his movements, amazed at the lightness of the stick, and how fast it could swing.
