Page 24 of Lord Have Mercy Part Four: Big Son

“Not as an insult.”

The walk led up to a wide wooden staircase, which in turn led up onto a cool, shaded wraparound porch decorated with dark rattan furniture. Ceiling fans turned lazily, lifting the scent of gardenia blossoms, which grew in rich, white profusion along the base of the porch. A wreath hung on the door, green and brown magnolia leaves set with white ribbon.

Ava swallowed down a scoff, and schooled her face to a look of what she hoped was doe-eyed uncertainty.

They stood with their arms still wrapped around one another, and for a moment, Ava felt terribly glad not just of his skills – apparently, he had zero doubts about being able to get that gate open later if they needed to – but of his company, too. Not just allies, but maybe friends, here at the threshold of a beast.

The idea gave her the boost she needed to shut herself behind the façade Tenny had been encouraging since before they left the hotel: that of the meek but pliant wife. The giggly womanas embarrassed as she was thrilled by what she and her man were about to do. It was a little easier, then, to pretend. To cock her hip, and shape her face the right way, and hang off Tenny’s arm.

Tenny reached for the doorbell, but before he could press it, the door swung inward.

The woman standing in the threshold was neat and trim, in a simple, A-line dress with a modest scoop neck, and sensible heels. She wore her hair in a sleek bob, and though clearly in her twenties, wore an air of friendly maturity.

Her hair was brown. As were her eyes. This wasn’t Regina.

Ava’s stomach sank before she reminded herself that the madam would of course not be answering her own door.

“Hi there,” the brunette greeted, all Southern charm. She swapped a look between them. “The McAllisters? Well, aren’t you two sweet. And pretty!” She grinned and fanned at her face for show. “I’m Tiffany. Come on in.” She stepped back and held the door wide. “Your florist will be so pleased to meet you.”

The interior of the house matched the exterior, orderly, and Victorian, the furnishing spare enough to keep the whole effect from being grandmotherly ornate. They passed through a foyer flanked by dainty tables and gilt-framed mirrors, past a grand, curving staircase, and down a hallway into a sitting room with floral, bare-legged sofas, a fireplace, and a long, rich mahogany buffet table set up as a bar, bearing an assortment of glassware, bottles, and an ice bucket.

Tiffany walked in a way that Ava recognized from Maggie’s satire of her teenage years: the Debutante Sway, as Maggie had said, laughing, then stood up as tall as she could in her cowboy boots, thrown her shoulders back, and sashayed her way across the living room until Ghost glanced up from his bike magazine, wide-eyed, and said, “Shit, stop that, you’re freaking me out.” Ava remembered laughing, high and giggly and onlyseven, horrified and hysterical in equal parts over her mom’s transformation. Tiffany walked that way now, mincing little steps, belled skirt of her dress twitch, twitch, twitching side-to-side.

She turned once they were all in the room, and gave a gameshow wave toward the bar. “If y’all can wait here, I’ll go make sure everything’s ready for you upstairs. Please help yourselves to something to drink, and I’ll be back in a jiff.”

“Thank you,” Tenny said, shades pushed up into his hair, now, smile butter-soft and sugar-sweet. The boy couldact, damn it.

As soon as she was gone – low heels clicking on the staircase – Tenny released Ava and strode across the room to an adjoining doorway. He peered through, then turned to the window. “Billiard room,” he said, thumbing over his shoulder. “There’s a door there that leads out onto the back porch.”

Ava joined him at the window, and her pulse leaped. “Look. There’s a detached garage.” It was across a wide swath of green lawn, as ornate as the house, a three-car with windows that indicated an apartment or storage space above.

“Yeah. That could be promising.” He turned back to face the room, shoulders braced against the window mullions, and said, quietly, “Listen. When we get up to the room, don’t–”

“Make a move until you do. Iknow, Ten, Jesus.”

He sighed. “I know you’re tough. But you’ve never done this sort of thing before.”

She didn’t respond to that. He’d said the same thing at least seven times now, and it no longer warranted a response.

“You want something to drink?” he asked.

“No.”

He chuckled. “Good girl.”

“Asshole.” But she said it fondly, and when she caught his eye, his grin said he could tell she didn’t really mean it.

The sound of heels on the stairs reached them again, and they rearranged themselves against the mantle, his arm around her waist, her head leaning on his shoulder, both their gazes trained on the framed photos there. For a moment, as Tiffany approached down the hall, Ava took a good look at the pictures, and was surprised by their contents: black and white portraits of women from at least sixty years ago, standing on the porch of this very house.

“You think it’s always been a brothel?” she asked. The women weren’t scantily-clad, but there were a lot of them, and more than a few were smiling coquettishly.

“Probably.”

“Okay, y’all,” Tiffany called from the doorway, and they turned to face her. She carried a small wooden box, lacquered black and painted with magnolia blossoms. Belatedly, Ava saw the lock on the clasp, and the narrow slit in the top. A cash box. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you up.” But she made no move to lead them anywhere, simply thrust the box forward expectantly.

Still linked, they walked forward, and Tenny pulled a carefully folded stack of cash from his jacket pocket. They’d hated to part with their running money, but between Bob and Dandridge, and the ATM at the bank, felt they could get more. Tenny spread the corner of the stack with his thumb and tilted it toward Tiffany in a deft gesture so she could check the sum, and at her nod, shoved it into the slot. It was so fat it barely fit.

When Tiffany smiled, she flashed white, even teeth. “Thank you. Now, with me, please.” She carried the box against her stomach in both hands, like a loaf of bread, and clipped her way out into the hall and to the base of the stairs.

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