Blitzed(85)

"Rock Hill, Missouri actually," I said. "It's a suburb of St. Louis. I came out here six years ago, to try and make it as a musician. I didn't realize just how hard the music scene is in Los Angeles."

"Which is why you’re working as a janitor," Francois completed. "There is no shame in that, too many people don’t recognize the value of hard work."

"It’s strange to hear that coming from a thief," I replied. "Are you saying that your work is hard work?"

Francois laughed and shook his head. As he did, I was struck again by the dark handsomeness of his features, even if they were less brooding than those of his brother. "No, not at all. But if you give me half a chance, I might convince you that I’m not the immoral criminal that you think I am. Felix was right, there are some things that fiction gets wrong about our people. Yet there are many things it does get right. Maybe some day you’ll know and appreciate the difference."





Chapter 6





Felix





The cold air outside helped me gather myself. That woman, Jordan, she didn’t know how she affected me. She was beautiful, with a heart-shaped face and eyes that seemed to burn with an inner flame. Her taunts added to the already tremendous pressure on my mind until I either lost my temper or walked away. I'm a sucker for intelligence, even more than appearance, and a sense of humor and the willingness to retort sarcastically is a quick way I've been able to measure intelligence in people, even if she did make me want to lose my temper. As losing my temper would show my weakness in front of Francois, I chose instead to leave, making the excuse that I had to wash the dishes.

I could hear them talking as I washed, the pump was right next to the house and the windows weren’t that thick. At first I was angry when Francois told Jordan my name, but I soon settled down again. My brother had always pushed the boundaries of what I’d allow, especially if he thought he could get away with it. It had been the case when our father was alive, and continued as we became adults. Still, we made a good pair. Francois pushed my boundaries while I was always there to rein him in when his self-confidence got out of hand.

I was surprised when Jordan said she was a musician, as music had an important place in Romani culture, and in French culture too for that matter. I’d inherited a deep love of music from my mother, who insisted that if I were to be trained to follow in the footsteps of my father, that I would at least appreciate some of the art and artifacts I would be stealing. Father, of course, had his own hand in what exactly that meant, specifically in my choice of instrument, but thankfully I enjoyed it, and once I showed some affinity, he let me drift away from the staid, dry classical pieces toward whatever caught my ear.

As I listened and washed, I was drawn to the pitch of Jordan's voice. So many women nowadays try to sound girlishly high-pitched and end up sounding like a squealing hamster. Jordan, on the other hand, had a confident, slightly throaty voice for a woman. I wondered if her musical abilities were as enchanting as her speech. She certainly had a musical quality to her words.

After washing the dishes, I shook them off before taking them back in. Inside, I checked the food supplies, concerned. Francois had used more of our food than I'd thought, and we only packed for two people on a three-day wait at most. "Francois."

"Yes brother?" he asked, looking up from Jordan. I could see that he was interested in her, and understandably so.

"When you said you used our midday meal, I didn't realize just how much you used. I need you to go shopping. Think you can take the Jeep?" I asked, not trying to order him but making it clear I wasn't merely requesting. "While you’re out, pick up some warmer clothing for Miss Banks."

Francois nodded, giving Jordan an appraising look. “Will a medium or a size eight do?”

"Close enough," Jordan said with a smile. "I wear a six most of the time."

"I don't suppose you'd consider letting me go on the shopping trip?" she added, looking at me. I had to smile at her sense of humor and shake my head. "It was worth a try."

I nodded, part of me looking forward to the next few hours while Francois left the mountains to do the shopping. "It was, Miss Banks. Come, my brother needs get going."



After Francois left, I sat down in the chair between Jordan and the door, watching the fire and her at the same time. “Sorry about of all of this, but we couldn’t take a chance. I’m normally not in the habit of taking hostages, I assure you. In fact, I prefer to not be noticed by anyone at all."

"So you two are good at this I take it,” Jordan commented. She shifted, curling her legs underneath her and running her hand through her hair. She still had the blanket over her legs, which I understood, the cabin was cold, and the fire wasn't very large. We'd set aside wood, but hadn’t planned on living in woodsy luxury for our wait. "Any stories you want to tell?"

"Maybe later," I replied. She looked at me and sighed. “Francois’ boast that we both could disappear into Roma culture is true, but still, we shouldn’t tell you too much. I’m sure the police will press you for everything, and I’d rather not throw them any bones. And I overheard Francois tell you my name. So Felix is fine."

Jordan looked away into the fire. "You seemed pretty angry earlier, Felix.”