they're not going to talk to us."
"A big waste of our time and for nada." I was still hungry and eyed what was left on Niko's plate. Nah, I wasn't
that
hungry. Then I had an idea … it happened occasionally…and it wasn't from any antioxidant crap making my brain cells sit up and take notice either.
"Hey, I know a guy." I leaned back in my chair. "Ham. He comes into the bar sometimes and plays the sax. Just for kicks. He doesn't get paid or anything, but he's damn good. He says he plays the subways and streets too. Not that he needs to from the looks of him. Wears some pretty flashy clothes."
"And if he plays the subways and the streets, he may be familiar with some of the homeless." Promise gave a nod of approval, wrapping a string of dusk-colored pearls around a finger.
"If he's amenable to helping us. Not too many are." He was right. A human and a half Auphe weren't going to ever win any popularity contests. "What exactly is he?" Niko asked.
I frowned. "I don't have a clue. He looks human. Doesn't smell human, but he seems okay. Drinks whiskey, plays the sax, has a thing for pretty women, especially vampires…seems fairly laid-back to me." And considering what I'd done to a few customers that had pissed me off, that was saying something, not to mention my automatic suspicion of anyone I first met. "I don't know how the hell we'd get in touch with him, though. He comes and goes at the bar. Sometimes I won't see him for weeks. There's no predicting it."
"Perhaps Ishiah knows his last name," Niko suggested.
Nonhumans didn't have last names or if they did I hadn't run into one. "You're kidding. And so what if he did?"
Nik shook his head. "One idea and your brain shuts down for the day. It is a pity." He went on to explain, "If he is that good a sax player, he probably plays at clubs as well. And if he plays at clubs, I imagine he'd want to be available for gigs." He gave that faint smile of his. "In other words, he'd be in the book."
Jeez, the phone book. Maybe there was something to that carrot-cranberry juice after all. "I'll give Ish a call."
Luckily he was at the bar, and he did know Ham's last name. I didn't need any brain cells at all to think it was maybe more than coincidence. "Piper," I said after shutting off the phone. "Now, I know I'm no genius, Einstein." I gave Niko a mock glare. "But even I can guess that one."
"The Pied Piper of Hamelin." Niko stood and began to clear his dishes. "If nothing else, this should be interesting."
Ham was in the book and home when I called. He remembered me fine and said in a deep, mellow voice to come on over. If I worked for Ishiah, then I was good in his book. He gave me the address: Park Slope in Brooklyn. I winced, knowing we had a transfer at Fifty-third Street and a ride on the F train to look forward to.
When we arrived, he opened the door and immediately gave a blinding smile … to Promise. Niko and I were waved in absently. "If I'd known you were bringing such a fine lady with you," he said cheerfully, "I'd have cleaned up some."
The place wasn't that messy. There were a few instruments lying around, two saxes and a guitar, and a couple of flashy suit jackets tossed over a chair and the couch. Dark red, bright blue, and the most subtle one, brown with finger-width neon yellow stripes. I looked away before my retinas were burned out of my eyes and took a look at the rest of the place. It was a loft, bigger than a musician should've been able to afford, and painted…never mind how it was painted. It made the suits look like pastels in comparison.
"Pull up a cushion." He tossed one jacket to join the others, his eyes still on Promise. He was a tall, thin black man with unusually pale brown eyes. He kept his hair in short dreds and was dressed casually in a shirt patterned in a mixture of black and dark green and black pants. It was nice to give my eyes a break from the rest of the place and I kept them on him.
"Hey, Ham, thanks for talking to us."
He
"A big waste of our time and for nada." I was still hungry and eyed what was left on Niko's plate. Nah, I wasn't
that
hungry. Then I had an idea … it happened occasionally…and it wasn't from any antioxidant crap making my brain cells sit up and take notice either.
"Hey, I know a guy." I leaned back in my chair. "Ham. He comes into the bar sometimes and plays the sax. Just for kicks. He doesn't get paid or anything, but he's damn good. He says he plays the subways and streets too. Not that he needs to from the looks of him. Wears some pretty flashy clothes."
"And if he plays the subways and the streets, he may be familiar with some of the homeless." Promise gave a nod of approval, wrapping a string of dusk-colored pearls around a finger.
"If he's amenable to helping us. Not too many are." He was right. A human and a half Auphe weren't going to ever win any popularity contests. "What exactly is he?" Niko asked.
I frowned. "I don't have a clue. He looks human. Doesn't smell human, but he seems okay. Drinks whiskey, plays the sax, has a thing for pretty women, especially vampires…seems fairly laid-back to me." And considering what I'd done to a few customers that had pissed me off, that was saying something, not to mention my automatic suspicion of anyone I first met. "I don't know how the hell we'd get in touch with him, though. He comes and goes at the bar. Sometimes I won't see him for weeks. There's no predicting it."
"Perhaps Ishiah knows his last name," Niko suggested.
Nonhumans didn't have last names or if they did I hadn't run into one. "You're kidding. And so what if he did?"
Nik shook his head. "One idea and your brain shuts down for the day. It is a pity." He went on to explain, "If he is that good a sax player, he probably plays at clubs as well. And if he plays at clubs, I imagine he'd want to be available for gigs." He gave that faint smile of his. "In other words, he'd be in the book."
Jeez, the phone book. Maybe there was something to that carrot-cranberry juice after all. "I'll give Ish a call."
Luckily he was at the bar, and he did know Ham's last name. I didn't need any brain cells at all to think it was maybe more than coincidence. "Piper," I said after shutting off the phone. "Now, I know I'm no genius, Einstein." I gave Niko a mock glare. "But even I can guess that one."
"The Pied Piper of Hamelin." Niko stood and began to clear his dishes. "If nothing else, this should be interesting."
Ham was in the book and home when I called. He remembered me fine and said in a deep, mellow voice to come on over. If I worked for Ishiah, then I was good in his book. He gave me the address: Park Slope in Brooklyn. I winced, knowing we had a transfer at Fifty-third Street and a ride on the F train to look forward to.
When we arrived, he opened the door and immediately gave a blinding smile … to Promise. Niko and I were waved in absently. "If I'd known you were bringing such a fine lady with you," he said cheerfully, "I'd have cleaned up some."
The place wasn't that messy. There were a few instruments lying around, two saxes and a guitar, and a couple of flashy suit jackets tossed over a chair and the couch. Dark red, bright blue, and the most subtle one, brown with finger-width neon yellow stripes. I looked away before my retinas were burned out of my eyes and took a look at the rest of the place. It was a loft, bigger than a musician should've been able to afford, and painted…never mind how it was painted. It made the suits look like pastels in comparison.
"Pull up a cushion." He tossed one jacket to join the others, his eyes still on Promise. He was a tall, thin black man with unusually pale brown eyes. He kept his hair in short dreds and was dressed casually in a shirt patterned in a mixture of black and dark green and black pants. It was nice to give my eyes a break from the rest of the place and I kept them on him.
"Hey, Ham, thanks for talking to us."
He
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