Read Online The Girls With Games of Blood by Alex Bledsoe - Free Book Online Page A

did.” He turned his attention back to Patience. “And why are you here, Miss Bolade?”
    “I grew up here. Well, close to here. A long time ago, though.”
    “I was referring to your presence at this establishment.”
    “Oh.” She nodded at the guitar. “I’m the new entertainment.”
    Fauvette interjected, “So now you have your own Eleanor. You must be happy.”
    Patience looked puzzled. “Who’s ‘Eleanor’?”
    “The girl of his dreams,” Fauvette said.
    “It is,” Zginski said to Patience but with a warning glare at Fauvette, “an automobile.”
    “Ooh, what kind?” Patience said eagerly. “I had a boyfriend out in California who was always rebuilding this or that. He taught me a lot about them.”
    Zginski’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Indeed? It is a 1973 Ford Mustang.”
    “What size engine?”
    “351, I was told.”
    “Windsor?”
    “Correct.”
    She bounced with excitement. “Can I see it?”
    Zginski offered his arm. “I would be honored to show it to you.”
    Fauvette started to say something, but caught herself this time. What was
wrong
with her? She was an eternal creature, subject to none of the rules that bound limited mortals. Jealousy was not only silly, it was pointless. What morality controlled the behavior of the undead?
    As the pair went outside, Leonardo passed them on his way in. They ignored him, deep in their own conversation, and he stared after them until the door closed. Then he crossed the room toward Fauvette. “Who was that with Mistah Z.?”
    “Patience,” she snapped.
    “Whoa, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. You didn’t look busy.”
    “No, her
name
is Patience. She’s our new singer.”
    He did a double take in the direction of the door. “But she’s a . . .”
    “Yeah, I know.”
    “Appears Rudy knows, too.”
    “Oh, they’re already soul mates,” she said sarcastically.
    Leonardo chuckled. “He doesn’t run out of surprises, does he? So how are you?”
    “Oh, I’m peachy. Did you have any trouble with the car?”
    “Sort of. Some big cracker showed up and tried to make the guy sell it to him instead of Rudy. It all worked out. Except . . .”
    “What?”
    Leonardo sat in the same chair Jerry had used and fiddled idly with the table’s salt shaker. “You know how he’s always saying we should pick one long-term victim instead of a new one every night?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I think I’m ready to try that.”
    “With who?”
    “A girl who lives out where we got the car. It’s an old plantation house that still has the slave shacks out back, if you can believe that.”
    “In McHale County? That’s a long way, isn’t it?”
    He shrugged. “If I don’t like it, I can kill her and be done with it without attracting too much attention.”
    Fauvette nodded. She felt queasy, as if too many things had changed too suddenly. She turned away from Leonardo and said, as casually as she could, “So how long will you be gone?”
    “Depends on how it goes.” Then he understood her meaning. “But wait, this isn’t like what happened with Mark.”
    Fauvette waved a dismissive hand. “You’re a free man, Leo. Lincoln said so.” She paused. “I’m sorry, that was tacky. Something my mama used to say to her black friends.”
    He stood behind her, put his hands on her shoulders, and said gently, “It
was
kind of mean.”
    She still did not look at him. “First Toddy, then Olive, now Mark . . . we’re all that’s left. Once you go, I’ll be all alone again.”
    “Mark ain’t like the others,” Leo corrected. “He ain’t dead.”
    She shrugged out from under his hands and faced him, her eyes ablaze with anger and hurt. “He may not be, but he ain’t around, either. After a while, that’s the same thing.”
    Leonardo said nothing. He couldn’t dispute that.
    Patience held Zginski’s arm as he led her behind the building. The Ringside Bar and Supper Club occupied a low, flat-roofed structure shaded by old maples and oaks