Page 34 of Savannah Royals
I go to the window and quietly open it, peering into the darkness. Usually after evening events at the Academy, Abe waits in Forsyth Park in case I have any inside tips to pass along. But it’s late tonight—much later than usual—and there’s a very good chance Abe has already returned to the bayou. I can hardly expect him to wait around all night while I’m busy drinking whiskey in glorified closets with cute rich boys.
Which, by the way,neverhappens.
I swing a leg over the windowsill, then push off the wall, flying down to earth instead of climbing. I land nimbly on my toes with bent knees, gold heels slamming with aclackon the cobblestones. I exhale in a huff and point my feet in the direction of the tiny arboretum that marks our rendezvous point. The park looks deserted.
There’s nothing for it, I realize. I’ll either have to find a running streetcar or hoof it all the way to the bayou on foot. I groan, bracing myself for yet another long night, when I see the slightest rustling at the edge of the trees ahead. My breath catches.
A dark silhouette steps forward, just enough for moonlight to flash across his face.
“Abe!” I fly into his arms, hard and fast. He grunts at the impact. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“Hi, Kat,” he rumbles.
“I can’t believe you’re still here. Thank god.” I release him and step back.
“Where have you been?” He sticks his hands in his pockets as though it doesn’t matter, but I can tell he’s a little miffed.
“I was with someone,” I say slowly. “I’m really sorry.”
“How was your night? You look grand.”
I swallow my guilt about Matthew. “It was good—I have hot news. Harry Astor is going to be out tomorrow. All night.”
“Tomorrow?” Abe’s face falls. “That barely gives us any time to prepare.”
“But, Abe, it’s perfect.” I rush to explain. “It’s a Thursday night, which means the food delivery folks will be there, and Lady Astor will be alone in the house. Harry will be at a stag party on Jekyll Island.”
“Hold your horses, Kat. A stag party? Who in tarnation has a stag party on a Thursday?”
I wave the question away. “Unemployed rich boys, that’s who.”
“Are you sure you heard correctly?”
“Yes. Daniel Dufour and Harry Astor talked about it. They said…” I try to remember exactly. “They said it’s an impromptu stag party for Johnnie Rockefeller, they’re opening the clubhouse early, and airing out one of the cottages on the island for an overnight. I was standing right there when Harry said it. Right beside him. He was inviting Matthew, and—”
“Matthew DaMolin?” Abe raises an eyebrow.
“Yes,” I whisper, suddenly nervous.
“Is that who you were with tonight?”
“Not that it matters, but yes. He’s who I was with.”
“Paul told me you met him last week,” Abe offers. “He had me shadow him for a few days.”
“Oh my god, he didn’t.” I groan.
“He’s pretty boring.” Abe shrugs. “Just works a lot, down at the hospital. He’s either there or his apartment in the city.”
“Good to know.” It’s hard to keep annoyance out of my voice.
“Don’t be mad, Kat. You know how Paul is.”
I do know, always keeping his tabs. I wrap my arms around my ribs, because suddenly, I feel like crying.
Abe’s face softens. “You okay?”
I blink a few times. It came out of nowhere, but I’m overwhelmed. Rode hard and put up wet.
