The day after the rent party, Honoree woke up early and worried. The night before, Ezekiel had taken off after Dewey with murder in his eyes. If he had found him, one of them was dead. And the thought of Ezekiel dead frightened her more than she wanted to admit in that emotional place where she still cared, and cared so much she couldn’t imagine a world without him.
He was in her blood, in her bones, and that morning, she wouldn’t accept anything less than seeing him with her own eyes, alive and breathing, and in one piece.
She left Bessie with a dollar for breakfast and instructions to pick up some fabric and a rod of ribbon at the five-and-dime. A visit to the store would give Bessie an errand, and the fresh air might help her stomach.
Honoree arrived at the auto body shop shortly before eight o’clock. The sign on the door read,SHOP CLOSED.
She peered through the stained-glass window. He was standing behind the counter, arms straight, palms pressed into the countertop, wearing a filthy T-shirt and overalls.
“Ezekiel!” She banged on the door. “Ezekiel!”
The door opened, and she launched at him. “Why do you have a ‘closed’ sign on the shop door? It’s a workday, and you should be working. You—”
A gasp lodged in her throat. His face, his handsome face, had been pummeled. “Oh my God. What happened? Christ. You found Dewey, didn’t you? Christ. Thank God you aren’t dead.”
For all appearances, he looked an inch from the grave. A swollen eye, bruises on his jaw and forehead, clothing caked with mud, and bloodstains. “You didn’t kill him, did you? Tell me. Did you kill him?”
Ezekiel rubbed a hand over his head, turning his smooth black hair into a pigeon’s nest of curls. The same hand then scrubbed at his chin, and a grimace closed his eyes. “I was in a ruckus, but you’ll be pleased to learn that Dewey lives, or he was still breathing the last time I saw him.”
“Which was when?”
Ezekiel lifted his shirt, and a groan escaped his bruised lips. There was a large patch of dried blood from a gash in his side. Still, the blood concerned her less than his breath. “Are you drunk?” Honoree asked. “My Lord, Ezekiel.”
Slowly, he wheeled away from her and staggered toward the rear of the shop. He kept stumbling, striking his shoulder against the wall in a failed attempt to walk a straight line.
She followed him. “For a man who used to hate booze—you smell like you bathed in a barrel of gin.”
He turned. A long purple bruise rode down the side of his neck to the edge of his jaw.
“Jesus Christ.” A wince narrowed his red-rimmed eyes. “Can you speak without shouting? My head will come off if you don’t quiet down.”
“Is your brother here?” She marched by him. “Jeremiah!”
“Honoree. I beg you—please stop shouting.” Ezekiel pressed his hands to either side of his head and leaned against the wall. “Jeremiah is not here.”
“I need to look at the wound on your neck.”
He pushed away from the wall, but his knees gave way, and he started to fall. She darted for him, catching him by the arm, but he was too big and fell to his knees. “If you hit the floor completely, I won’t be able to lift you back up.”
His eyes rolled, and he grabbed his stomach.
“I warn you. Do not upchuck on me. I will punch you in the neck.”
A small smile interrupted the pain on his face. “I promise I won’t vomit.”
He held a finger to his lips as if the gesture alone would prevent him from emptying the contents of his stomach.
Honoree was relieved he hadn’t killed anyone and wasn’t dead himself. On the other hand, finding him drunk kept her ill mood pounding hard and fast through her veins.
She led him into one of the rooms in the back of the shop where he and his brother slept.
He pointed at the washroom but slumped into a chair. “I can go no further at the moment.”
“I can see that. Is there a basin in the washroom? I’ll wash off some grime and blood before you climb into bed. Take off your shirt.”
He lifted his shirttail from his waistband but gave up on the buttons and yanked the shirt over his head.
Honoree gave into a giggle. “You look like Buster Keaton, stumbling, staggering, falling. Just stay down until I come back.”
