Tomi did his best to ignore the cold war in the backseat, turning the music up, singling along, and banging his head along with the beat. Dax, tired of watching the cold stares, pouting, and scowls, flipped the shade up. Every bump they hit, and there were plenty in a city where corruption left no pothole filled, sent jolts of pain through his body, but at least it distracted him from the backseat.
When they made it back to the bar, he held the seat to let Jamie and her family out of the car. Tomi disappeared inside.
Jamie’s mom whirled on her husband. “Get your stuff, and get out of the apartment. If you take anything that isn’t yours, I swear I’ll call those bikers myself and tell them where to find them.”
“We live onthe other side of town and the buses aren’t running for the night,” he whined.
She folded her arms across her chest. “You got two feet and a pair of shoes on them. Carry your own pathetic ass out of here.”
His shoulders slumped. “What if I get mugged?”
She barked a bitter laugh. “What do you have to take? You’ve pissed everything away.” Then, she turned her back on him.
Mumbling, the man shuffled off, disappearing around a corner. Dax stood silently trying to mind his own business. He breathed a sigh of relief when the side door opened in the alley and Tomi poked his head out.
“Hey, Dax, come on.” He disappeared back inside, save for his arm which held the door open.
Checking to make sure he didn’t see any cops, Dax ushered Jamie and her mother down the alley and into the door, directing them to head into the tea room. Tomi lifted his hand and pantomimed a drink.
Dax nodded. “Whiskey.” Then he disappeared into the tearoom.
“You smell like smoke,” Cory said, his arms wrapped around Jamie as he hugged her tightly. When he pushed back, he had a huge grin plastered across his face.
“Yeah, well, things got messy,” Jamie replied.
Dax slid around the bar and filled several glasses of water, setting them on the bar. Jamie’s mother took two, handing one to her daughter.
After draining half the water, she set it down, clasping her hands in front of her. “I don’t know who you are are why you helped us, but thank you.”
He held out a dirty hand. “I’m Dax.”
“Sharon.” She took his hand and gave it a quick shake.
Jamie stepped up beside her mom and took a glass. “Thank you, Dax, for…”
“I owe you, Jamie. If you hadn’t stepped in at the last moment there, he’d have put one of those bullets in my head and I’m not sure I could have shrugged one of those off.”
Jamie’s eyes flicked to her mother then back to Dax. “Um, after everything, I think we’re even.”
He nodded, looking at her knowingly. “Fair enough.”
Tomi slid into the room, a bottle in his hands. “I have the cure to what ails you.”
Dax pulled out five glasses, setting them on the bar. Before anyone could say anything, Tomi poured a finger in each glass, setting it on the bar where it would be easy to grab for a refill.
Sharon raised her nose in the air. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood for whiskey. And I think the kids are too young for such things.”
Dax lifted an eyebrow. The hard eye roll from Jamie nearly made him chuckle. Cory’s shoulders sagged and he gave a half-hearted pout before his ubiquitous friendly expression returned.
“Ugh. We need to find a place to stay. Then we have to try to get our stuff from the apartment without being seen by those bikers,” Sharon said, pacing away from the bar.
Jamie waited until her mother’s back was to her and slugged down the shot of whiskey, wheezing at it burned its way down. She covered it with a faked cough, natural enough after surviving a fire. “Mom, Cory said we can stay with him. There’s plenty of spare room.”
Chuckling to himself, Tomi filled the glass so it looked untouched. Dax shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“I’ll say, tonight is probably the safest time to clear out your apartment. I garauntee those bikers are going to be too scared to go looking for vengence tonight. They’ll be in survival mode until someone shows up to take charge, that’s assuming they can pry them out of whatever deep, dark hole they find to hide in.”
Sharon turned around, staring at him with narrowed eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Mom,” Jamie said, her voice deadly serious. “Trust him when he says they’re terrified.” She turned to Cory. “Can you help us get our stuff out tonight? We can see about a moving truck to get the furniture in the morning.”
“Jamie…” Sharon started, her voice slipping into “mom” mode.
“Mom. Would you trust me for once? We have to get out of that place fast before they do come looking for dad or us. We can move our stuff out fast and go to Cory’s for now. Then we can make a real plan.”
Dax
They waited until Jamie and her associates left, then slid the door shut, locking it. Tomi took the first undrank shot and tossed it back, then grabbed the second.
“Good thing you didn’t pour doubles.” Dax smirked, throwing back the last half of his shot.
Tomi chuckled. “Yeah. I intend to go up front and drink some much better whiskey.” He picked up the next shot, but only sipped from the glass. “Now what?”
“What do you mean? We keep our nose down and go about our business.” Dax shrugged.
Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Tomi leaned closer, sliding into a bar stool. “Do you think that’s even going to be possible?”
“I just want to run this bar and keep a low profile.” He leaned back against the back bar, folding his arm across his chest.
“I get that’s what you want, Dax. But really, is that even possible?”
Dax made to speak, but Tomi held up a hand to forstall him.
“Think about it. A lot of bikers ran out that bar and rode off. Do you think they’re going to renounce their beliefs and allegences? I mean, maybe a few will… I’m sure you managed to scare a fair few of them. But do you think those kind of beliefs just disappear? They’re steeped in ignorance and hate. Those kind of beliefs are hard to wash away. Plus, they didn’t just try to kill you, they tried to kill you for some one or some reason.”
“Why? Since I landed here, I’ve minded my own business and kept to myself.” He swirled the whiskey as he thought about it, taking a sip.
“ ‘Since you landed’?” Tomi chuckled, shaking his head. “May I remind you, you ‘landed here’ and immediately killed a biker. You’re currently walking around in his body.”
He narrowed his eyes, focusing on Tomi. “I made some modification…”
“You burned off the tattoos, but that’s about it. Also, might I remind you, you took the money that biker had extorted from people like my Mama and used it to buy this bar. Did you think they’d never come looking?”
Dax sighed, shaking his head. He lifted his glass and looked at the amber liquid as he swirled it, letting the lighty place across its surface. “I guess I didn’t really think of it much at the time.” He threw the shot back, and he exhaled noisily at the burn. “We’ve gone for several years without being noticed.”
“Yeah, well, someone has noticed. Maybe several someones. Do you think those bikers have the kind of juice to get a cop to do their dirty work? Especially a back stabbing climber like Randall Ryan?” Tomi shook his head. “Get real, Dax.”
He looked down at the bar between then, staring at it as he thought over Tomi’s words. His friend was probably right. He knew this kind of stuff. But Dax was sincere when he said he wanted to lay low and return to the status quo. He’d dipped his toe into a lot of power then been pulled in entirely before being spit out again.
There were those who were supposed to be watching him, making sure he kept his nose clean. He wasn’t interested in voiding the deal they’d forced on him, but where was the line? When was he allowed to defend himself? They’d forced him to become a nearly powerless human. Though, as evidenced by earlier tonight, the walls they’d built between him and his own powers weren’t as strong as they’d told him… Or perhaps they weren’t as strong as they themselves even thought.
“Yo, you going to just space out forever.” Tomi took the last glass and poured it back into the bottle. “I’m not going to burn my liver up on that stuff when there’s better to be had and I feel like celebrating.”
Dax raised an eyebrow. “What are we celebrating?”
A wicked grin spread across Tomi’s face as he hitched his eyebrows up once. “Wait here.”
Tomi slipped out of tearoom, then reappeared a couple minutes later. He had two wrinkly brown paper bags in one hand a briefcase in the other.
“Presents? You didn’t have to…” Dax deadpanned.
Tomi paused for a moment, his head quirked to the side. “Did…did you just make a joke?”
Dax blinked slowly at him, the corner of his mouth twitching. He tried to hold his lips straight, but the quizical look on Tomi’s face coupled with the twitch in in friend’s lip became too much. He grinned and chuckled lightly.
Tomi let out a quick laugh and shook his head. “There might be hope for you after all.”
“So what’s in those?” Dax causally pointed between the bag and the briefcase, using his fore and middle fingers held together.
“Well, my friend, fortunately our two-wheeled vehicle enthusiasts had other business interests other than trying to kill you.” He set down the briefcase then dumped the bag onto the bar.
Wads of bills tumbled out into a pile that seemed to keep growing. With a quick snaatch of his hand, Dax grabbed one that slid of the pile and fell off the edge. He set down the empty whiskey glass and thumbed through the wad of bills. All hundreds.
He flipped through them again. “Every bundle?”
“All hundies.”
Shaking his head, he forced himself to look up.
Tomi had a broad and open grin plastered across his face. “Whoever the boss biker was… Well, when you busted up their bar, he didn’t close his safe when he popped out to check on you. I left the drugs.” He pulled out the second bag and upended it on the other side fo the bar. A bale of plastic wrapped green herb bounced off the bar. “At least most of them. I hope this is good shit.”
“It’s legal here, Tomi. Why would they have bales of pot?”
“I don’t think they’re only a local club. They’re probably running it to states whre’s it’s not legal. We’re not that far from several. Besides. Free weed tastes better than weed you have to buy.” He pulled out a knife and cut a small slit into the plastic wrap. Lifting it to his nose, he took a deep inhalation, a smile spreading across his lips. “This’ll do.”
“I’m glad you’re satisfied with your purloined pot.”
“ ‘Purloined pot,’ that’s good.” Tomi chuckled. “Not right now, but soon, you’re going to join me and we’re going to fire up some of our ill-gotten gains.”
“I’ve never tried it.”
Tomi chuckled. “Then you can check that off your list of human experiences.”
“I’ll leave it to your discretion. Now, we appear to be out of whiskey…” He let it hanging.
“Help me stash this cash in the safe first. We’ll figure out what to do with it later, but the bar top of your tearoom isn’t the most secure spot you’ve got right now.” Tomi opened the brown paper back and used his arm to scoop the pile into the bag. After the bar top was clean, he bent over and picked up the bundles that had fallen to the floor. He stood and was about to crinkle the top closed when Dax stopped him.
He held up the bundle of hundreds. “Don’t forget this one.”
Tomi held open the bag, tipping the opening toward Dax. “Yeah. Wouldn’t want him to get lonely.”
Dax tossed the bundle over the bar, and Tomi caught it.
“What about your bale of weed?” Dax asked.
“Stash it behind the bar?”
“Why not? It can hang out with my dried leaf collection.” He gestured toward toward the shelves of loose leaf tea.
“It’ll feel right at home.”
Dax tucked the bale out of the way, moving some stuff in front of it to block it then helped Tomi stash the cash in the safe. Together, they strode into the front of the bar, taking a pair of empty bar stools at the end of the bar.
“Hey, cuz,” Tomi said, smiling at his cousin.
“There are my boys!” Little Suzie called. “What’ll be tonight?” She reached into the undercounter cooler and pulled out a can of Rainier and wiggled it toward Dax. “The usual?”
Dax held up his hand, halting her. “Not tonight. Tomi, it’s your call.”
“Give him the can, Suz. He’ll likely want his beer flavored water. And a couple good whiskeys. You pick the first round.” Tomi took the Rainier from Suzie’s hand and opened it, setting it in front of Dax.
A wicked grin spread across her lips. “I know just the thing.” She grabbed a bottle of Uncle Nearest 1884 Small Batch from the shelves and filled two of the nice whiskey glasses they kept around for the connoisseurs. “If a Black woman is pouring, she’s gonna pour something made by a Black woman.”
Dax picked up his glass and held up toward Suzie, giving her a nod of acknowledgment before turning to his friend. “Tomi, what should we drink to?”
“Let’s drink to the first of more shots…” He hoisted his glass.
“Well, we’ve already passed the first a few shots ago, but I’ll drink to it anyways.” He touched his glass to Tomi’s then took a sip. He exhaled, letting the Tennessee whiskey burn before dousing it with a drink from his beer.
It was indeed the first-ish of many more. Too many more. Dax vaguely remembered laughing more in a few hours than he’d laughed in possibly the last year. And when Suzie decided she’d had enough of them, she poured him into a taxi. He assumed she sent Tomi home in one as well.
Dax
As he nearly tumbled out of the elevator, he caught himself on the opposite wall and rallied himself to make the walk down the long hall without falling over. He trailed his fingers along the wall, occasionally relying on its solidity to keep him from finding the floor.
He hummed a tune as he staggered down the hall. He’d never been prone to singing before or at all. But for some reason, he needed to hum a song, though he kept it quiet, he hoped. When he fumbled his keys into the lock, he struggled to bend over and snatch them from the cruel gravity and the iron grip of the floor. Eventually, he fished them off the carpet and slid the right one into the lock.
The first thing he noticed when he entered his apartment was the smell of smoke. He lifted his shirt and held it to his nose. It still smelled of fire, but the smoke he smelled was different, more aromatic…
“Byenveni lakay, zanmi m.”
Dax whipped his head around toward his couch, stumbling to the side. He caught himself on the back of his recliner. Baron Samedi sat on the couch in his dapper suit and top hat. His feet were resting on the coffee table, his legs crossed. Today, he wore his full human persona—a Black man with dark brown skin, a shaved head, and set of sunglasses with one lens missing. He held a glass of liquor in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. At least he smoked good tobacco, though Dax didn’t care for the scent with his human nose. Morty sprawled on his back in the Baron’s lap, his front paws sticking up, kneading the air.
“Traitor…” Dax mumbled.
The Baron held his hand holding the drink to his chest and looked afronted. “Mwen? Oswa chat ou?”
Dax nodded his head, figuring it was a relatively neutral greeting. “My pardon—” He belched quietly, covering his mouth. “I would normally show the respect of speaking the Kreyòl, but language access is not as available to me as it used to be. And certainly not in this state.”
The Baron laughed. The deep, resonate sound brought a small smile to Dax’s lips. “I find the sight of you intoxicated worth the annoyance of speaking English. When you uttered ‘traitor,’ did you refer to me or to your perfidious four-legged friend here?” He gestured toward the kitten with his glass filled hand.
Dax held his hand and wobbled it side to side.
The Baron laughed again. “Ever honest. What is the name you call yourself in this form?”
“Dax.”
“That’s succinct enough. I’ll be brief since I’m not sure you can handle a lengthy conversation. Though perhaps we could try sometime while we share as wild a number of drinks as you’ve consumed this eve.” He put the cigar between his teeth, closed his lips, and drew in a puff of smoke, releasing it slowly to haze the air around him.
“What do you want, Baron?”
“Let’s just say there are those who are watching you.”
“This I know. I’ve been watched since I was exiled here.”
With a chuckle, Baron raised his glass, tipping it toward Dax, then took a deep drink. “Not everyone watches with their eyes only.”
Dax rubbed his temples. He was in no state the untie the word puzzles of trickster gods. “How trustworthy is this information?”
Feigning outrage, the Baron held a hand to his chest. “You wound me, sir.”
“I know you.”
“Of old, you did, and I’m little changed in the intervening time. My words are honest, and offered freely.”
Dax swiped a hand over his tired eyes, rubbing them quickly before narrowing his them as he evaluated the Baron’s words. “Why?”
“Call it a gift of thanks for the kindness you paid Ester.” He bowed his neck and lowered his head elegantly. “She was a fine woman and a strong soul, and you gave her a peaceful passing. For that I am grateful.”
Even his drunken state, the Baron’s words rang true and honest. This time. And it didn’t mean they wouldn’t have a hidden edge later, but in this moment, Dax would have been stupid to ignore the warning in the Baron’s words.
“Thank you, Baron. I’d bow in respect, but I’m afraid I’d fall on my face.”
The Baron laughed uproarously, throwing his head back. He started to fade away, the laughter the only solid thing left of him in the room. “Bon chans, Misye Lanmò.”
As the solid legs disappeared out from under him, Morty fell onto his back and popped up, arching his back and floofing his fur as he looked around, hissing. Dax chuckled at the agreived kitten.
Sniffing, he still smelled cigar smoke. The lit cigar floated in the air. The bright cherry at the end flared as if someone were taking a drag. A last puff of smoke filled the air before the cigar dropped from the air, landing on the couch.
Dax’s eyes shot open wide as he stared at the lit cigar smoldering away. With a shake of his head to get him moving, he dashed into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water. He picked up the cigar, pouring the water onto the black spot on the couch the lit cigar had left. When he judged the spot effectively drenched, he dropped the cigar into teh glass, letting it hiss as the water put it out.
“Fucking trickster gods…”
He lifted the glass and put it to his lips but caught himself before he did something disastrous. He took it into the kitchen and grabbed a fresh glass of water for himself and flopped into the recliner.
Morty, over the affront the trickster had caused, jumped onto Dax’s lap, head butting his empty hand, purring. Absentmindedly, he scratched the kitten’s ears and back until the little fluff ball settled down and went to sleep.
Depsite the drink, he didn’t feel tired thanks to the Baron’s warning. Tomi was right. There probably would be no going back, even if there were no “back” to begin with. With a sigh, he rubbed his forehead. The Baron’s visit had dampened the…joy—that was the word he settled on, though it took him a bit to find the unfamiliar feeling—of tonight’s celebration with Tomi.
He drank the rest of the water and set the glass on the table, being careful not to disturb his kitten. He’d think about the Baron’s words later, when he was clear headed and had time to process them.
For now, he’d focus on his furry little friend, tonight’s victory, and the time spent laughing with his friend. Those were good things. Human things. And they’d do for now.