Siblings Bele and Hale, Black Lake Novel 7

Chapter Seventeen

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The second band was callin’ it quits and the dancers began to straggle away. I don’t think I’d ever had so much fun. I definitely had never endured so much attention. Endured wasn’t the right word. That thought may have been knee jerk. I loved the attention. Every bull in the caucus seemed to fight over me. Didn’t expect that. Hale and I have always been—a bit out of the mainstream, even at home.

My watch claimed it was two in the mornin’. No way. My heart was pumpin’ but I coulda danced another hour or two. I guess we exhausted two sets of musicians, though. So this is the part of the hoedown everyone talked about. I peered at the surroundin’—they almost weren’t tables—sticks with a platter on them to hold a glass. No chairs surroundin’ ’em. No little sibling. I searched the darker corners, against the wall where there were chairs, emptyin’ of old bulls and hens who’d watched us younglings dance our fool heads off. No sibling.

I jerked, findin’ him standin’ off my right shoulder. He gave me a what-look.

“Ya ever leave the dance floor?” I asked.

He shrugged. I imagined him laughin’ at me, seein’ me gnawin’ on a three-foot-long kebab as I danced. The fools wouldn’t give me time to eat, otherwise.

“Did ya try that champagne the staff was pushin’ on everyone?”

He shrugged without usin’ his shoulder. I took that as a no. I had taken a sip or two, just to hydrate. Holy Moly was it strong. The way it flowed, there oughta be a bunch of ogres carryin’ pain in their brain cases durin’ tomorrow’s—today’s sessions.

He must have tired of my questions, ’cause he headed for the exit with everyone else. I tagged behind him, keepin’ my eyes open for our ride. We found ’em about ten minutes later on the mezzanine.

Kla stood wide-tusk-exuberant. Gai appeared as though he’d been beat about the head and shoulders. Wobbled a bit on his feet. No doubt a tad too many flutes of champagne. Kla handed Hale a platter of kebab.

“In case ya need a bit of energy after all that dancin’ ya did.”

True. I’d been shocked over and over again to find him so often twirlin’ a hen five feet away from me. Did he ever sit down? Kla got him started and maybe he never found his way off the floor. I certainly had to threaten a bull or two with death if they didn’t escort me over to the buffet a couple times. Burned a lot of calories tonight.

How could hoedowns transition so far from the cliché “bulls standin’ around stills”? Didn’t see a single beer tap in there tonight.

Hands freed, Kla dipped inside a tiny hidden pocket in her silky slacks. “No way either of us can drive.” I accepted the offered valet stub. “We’re gettin’ rides from a friend. Ya think ya can find yar way to the civic center tomorrow?”

A half-wit can use a vehicle’s navigator. I shared her a nod. Guess she kept tabs on us to know we hadn’t been slingin’ back those ogre-sized flutes. Her smile never failin’, she gave us a wave and dragged her sibling with her toward the escalator.

That was odd, wasn’t it? This whole night had been—different. Pleasant. But far from what I expected. I jolted a bit, noticin’ Hale already treadin’ into the pack behind our sidekicks, as the mezzanine quickly thinned.

~

Hale

~

Whatever evil I’d contemplated be-landin’ upon my no-good, stinkin’ uncle, wasn’t as necessary as it had been twenty-four hours ago. I’d never admit to the rank muskrat that I enjoyed listenin’ to all the political back and forth durin’ the day’s session.

I would forever deny it with my last breath, that I enjoyed the unendin’ dancin’. Never had hens fawn—that sounded egotistical in my head, but oh well—on me before. As though they enjoyed my company. Had several explain I could work on a smile. Not a priority of mine. Sounds too much like admittin’ to an emotion. Ick.

“Ya enjoyed yarself, huh,” Bele said as we landed on the lobby floor.

Some. Maybe.

“Ya claimed ya hated those dance lessons Mama made us take every summer. But appeared ya put ’em to use, flingin’ hens hither and yon.”

Surely she didn’t expect an answer. Truthfully, those classes had been a pain in the ogre butt. But they were a reasonable break from workin’ granite. Seventeen and already gettin’ chronic tendinitis in my wrist and elbow, tappin’ a mallet hours on end.

Why do the art-folk go so crazy about the texture of my work? I’d accidentally tread into my style. No need to overly worry about a smooth texture on a piece gracin’ the entry of a buildin’, or actin’ the focal point of a roundabout.

“No surprise ya’re thinkin’ about yar sculptin’.”

The dry air as we exited startled me a bit. Even the foothills TIT stroll across on the East Slope wrangled more moisture for a bull’s sinuses. Also. The temperature had dropped significantly. That’s nice. Not Range-cool, but better than it had been earlier. Ah. I remember bein’ told the desert nature of the coast didn’t hold the daytime heat.

“Ya wanna drive?” Bele asked.

After hours of bodies pushin’ near me, the last thin’ I wanted to do was concentrate on traffic and stuff flyin’ toward me.

Bele left me alone as we waited at the curb for Kla’s car. I would have druthered hikin’ to a lot than waitin’ for a valet, but guess that option was past. The voices around us had softened. Felt good on my brain bonnet. Thankfully all the hens were through with me. I finished another kebab, wafted the platter at Bele. She accepted one and I grabbed the last.

Kla’s silver OM pulled up, and a goblin valet rushed to open the passenger door for Bele, but she headed to the far side. Did he think it was odd the hen was drivin’ me? Not that I care. Like I’ve ever cared. Much. Maybe he routinely opens doors for bulls too, though. I handed him the empty, drippin' platter, and a ten-spot Continental. Noticed Bele did the same with her goblin, without a kebab platter.

Papa, despite bein’ as antisocial—he hates folks in general—as he is, taught us to be generous to those who do for us. Mama has always been distracted by the practice of tippin’ big. Said it went against her humble upbringin’.

Pullin’ away from all the glitzy neon, I stared at the pitch of the ocean. Much like the forest on a moonless night. We had a sliver of a moon tonight, but it still leaned eastward a bit. In four or five hours, I bet the glimmer off the water would be magnificent. If only there was a way to duplicate that in granite.

“Tell me what ya bulls did today.” Really didn’t appreciate Bele interruptin’ my thoughts.

“Chaotic,” I said.

“Really? The hens rattled and rambled like a troupe of ants returnin’ from a buffet.”

That sounded contradictory.

“Okay. Maybe not a great analogy. They were exhaustin’ in their depth of diplomatic minutia.”

Minutia. Hm. Every bull grated as though every raised opinion could either save the world or ruin society. They sure were in an uproar about more roads leadin’ into the Range. But mostly, everythin’ connected to Northern normalization in one way or the other.

“Yeah. That too,” Bele said.

Witch.

“I’m not a witch.”

Witch.

“Shut up. Ya gigalo.”

An unusual sensation traveled up from my gut, settin’ a tremor off in my chest, threatenin’ to expel every bit of air from my lungs. Not sure what that was.

“That’s called a laugh,” Bele said. “Ya should try it now and then.

~