“I can handle it, but I don’t want to.” She pushed away from the bar. “It’s in the back, right?”
“No, I left the honey in the basement. I don’t have any lemons, I don’t think, but I can’t remember if we ordered any. I should probably go to the store.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll bring up a couple of jugs of honey. That will get you started.”
Before she made a move toward the basement, Ezekiel and Archie were at the front door, and Ezekiel didn’t look pleased. “Archie and I are making a trip to the Plantation Cafe. Stay here until I return,” he said to Honoree.
She rolled her eyes. “I can get home.”
“Your leg isn’t what it’s supposed to be. Just wait an hour.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Crazy Pete said.
“Call my brother Jeremiah at the auto body shop.”
“What you say?” Pete cupped his ear.
Ezekiel repeated. “Tell him to come over here and take her home.”
Crazy Pete scowled at Ezekiel. “I said I could watch out for her.”
“All right. All right. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Ezekiel said, and left the cafe following behind Archie.
Pete turned and gave her a wink and a smile. “When did you and Ezekiel start up?”
“I ain’t even sure we started up,” she replied. “We just ain’t yelling at each other as loud as before.” She laughed. “I’m going downstairs to find that honey.”
A few minutes later, she was strolling by the furnace, trying to remember the corner where the jugs of honey were stored. Then she remembered the day Bessie had appeared from the shadows, smelling of dirt and bruises. She pushed the button on the electrical box on the wall and trotted down the dressing room stairs. There she found a jug of honey and some lemons. Pete must’ve ordered them and forgot.
A sudden loud noise startled her and the lemons fell from her hands. Dewey was in the doorway, a swaying, red-eyed mess, completely zozzled.
“You surprised me. I was getting some honey. Pete’s going to make me one of his concoctions.”
Fumbling with his belt buckle, Dewey staggered down the three steps into the dressing room. He looked horrible, clearly soused, and he smelled worse. In the short time since leaving Archie’s office, he must’ve stumbled, headfirst, into a jug of rotgut.
“I’m sorry Archie lit into you like that.” She had to say something. The boy seemed beat down like a boxer after a few thousand rounds with the heavyweight champ.
He took a shaky step toward her, and she fought the urge to hold her nose. He reeked of whiskey and marijuana cigarettes.
“What are you looking for over there?” His lips pulled back, showing bright pink gums against black lips.
“Would you do me a favor?” she asked pleasantly, fearing his temper. She hoped he wouldn’t notice the jar she held. “I need to head upstairs. If you find a jug of honey, could you bring it up for Pete? Y’all gonna need it behind the bar tonight.”
“I ain’t gonna need shit behind the bar tonight.” He talked as if alone in the basement, muttering to himself. He looked at her. “I got to leave town, remember. You were there when my brother told me to get out.”
Now her hands shook, her fingers going numb. The other lemon fell to the floor. “He’s trying to keep you from getting killed.”
Dewey seemed more unlike himself than usual—and Dewey’s tempter frightened Honoree more than ever.
“Excuse me.” She went to move by him.
“Why are you with Ezekiel?”
“I need to get upstairs; do you mind?”
“I asked you: why are you with him?”
“If you find the honey, just bring it on up to Pete.”
