Eamon appeared behind him in the hallway.
“And I thought you’d gone to bed,” Luca said to Dominic.
“And miss something of consequence?”
Eamon glanced at the record player and seated himself on the piano bench without saying a word.
Luca placed the record on the turntable. He addressed the room. “My grandmother, on my mother’s side, loved this, and I found it one day while rummaging through an estate sale.” He lowered the needle, and the opening percussion drifted through the room like a warm Gulf breeze.
“My sister loves this song,” Eamon said. “When we were kids, she played it constantly.”
A rare smile animated Dominic’s face. He said nothing.
The record reached the end, and Luca lifted the needle, then set it back down at the beginning. This time he didn’t remain still. He moved with the rhythm, nothing elaborate, just a loose shift through his shoulders and hips that followed the beat.
He danced alone for about five seconds. Then he looked at Eamon and reached out, catching his wrist.
“Absolutely not,” Eamon said.
“Yes.”
“I do not dance.”
“Tonight you do.”
“I want it on record that I disagree with this entirely.”
Luca pulled him forward.
Eamon resisted momentarily, but then he gave up. He moved stiffly at first, but the room was warm and the song was simple. It didn’t take long before the tension in his shoulders relaxed. By the second chorus, he was smiling.
Dominic sang along from his chair. Softly, and perfectly on pitch.
The song ended, and Luca lowered the needle again without pausing. The opening rhythm broke through a third time, and Eamon looked at me.
“You too,” he said.
“I don’t dance.”
“Neither do I.” He took my arm.
I was awkward at first. The music demanded an unfamiliar form of movement. I did my best to follow Luca. He reached out for my hand and laughed.
The four of us moved around the salon, popping our hips and waving hands in the air, while Dominic sang. New Orleans had been dancing at much worse moments for three hundred years.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
I glanced down at the screen and immediately stopped dancing.
Michael:Devereaux purchased second wireless detonator component. This morning. Same supplier.
The song played for a few more seconds before Luca noticed my expression. He crossed the room in three steps and lifted the needle. The record kept turning, with the motor’s low hum steady beneath the silence. I turned the phone so that he could read the screen.
Tomorrow night was coming whether or not we were ready.
Chapter nineteen
Luca
