Blitzed(99)

"What's that?" I asked.

"You make dinner. Despite Felix's assurances, you are a far better cook than he is."

I chuckled, then leaned back, laughing. "It's nice to hear someone say I'm better than Felix at something at least."

Jordan stopped her tuning and looked at me quizzically. "What do you mean?"

I shook my head. "Felix has always been the superior one. He’s bigger, more intelligent, the natural leader, everything. About the only areas I seem to surpass him are in getting into trouble, smooth talking young ladies, and now it seems, cooking. It's good to know I have at least one positive trait I’m better than him in."

"Ladies man, huh?"

I blushed at my faux pas, and shrugged. "I've been accused of being one, but I'd like to maybe someday be the man that my father expected me to become."

"Which is?" Jordan asked.

"If I can’t be a King of the Gypsies, I can at least be the Prince of Thieves," I replied. "Not that Felix isn't bad, but he wants out of this end of our lineage. He wants to be like Father was after he met our mothers, an aristocratic gentleman, working to better the lives of our tribe." I laughed. “Me, I'm more like young Father, wanting to cut my teeth and prove myself as the best damn thief this world has ever seen."

"Why?" Jordan asked quietly. "It's not exactly the sort of thing you can put on your resume."

I turned my head and smirked. "You still have much to learn about us, Jordan."

I got up off the bed and went to the door. "I look forward to hearing your playing when you're ready. I will prepare dinner."



Jordan didn't come out for another hour, and, in fact, closed the door to the bedroom for most of the time. The door was thin enough that Felix and I could hear the occasional strum or finger pick of notes, but not enough for us to discern what she was playing. "I think she wants to put on a concert for us," I said to Felix, who slid another blade into its traveling case before latching it down. "Perhaps she thinks it’ll sway our decision. She wants to come with us, you know."

"I know," Felix said. "Regardless, I have made my decision. Nothing she does tonight will sway my thinking."

"That sounds more like the man I call my brother," I replied cheerfully. It seemed my concerns earlier had been just phantoms, building on my own feelings as well. "Come, let me put together a feast for all three of us, and then after dinner, maybe Jordan will play for us. Or with us."

"Francois, choose your words carefully," Felix said warningly. "You were right earlier in that I do feel something for her."

“As do I, Felix. Why do you think I'm trying everything in my power to create a mental separation already?" I shot back. "If you haven't noticed, it's a pattern of mine."

"I've noticed," Felix replied, his eyes full of condescension. He may be my brother, but he's also an arrogant ass a lot of the time.

Before I could reply, though, the door to the bedroom opened, and Jordan came out with a tentative smile. "Hi, guys. Uhm, I kind of decided on some songs I could play, if you guys want to sing along that would be great."

"Perfect," Felix answered with a huge smile. "But first, Francois and I were thinking let's have dinner. The guitar can be the evening's entertainment."

"Well then, what are you boys cooking?"

Dinner was actually veal milanese, which is where you take a veal chop, butterfly it, bread it, and then cook it in butter. Considering I was working with an old camp stove that doubled as our heater, I think I did a pretty good job all around with it. Felix, bowing to Jordan's wishes, did mostly just preparations, while I did the actual cooking. It was for the first time in a long time fun to cook, with Jordan there cheering us on and keeping up the conversation. She was telling us about a show she did where the lead singer decided in the middle of the set that it was a perfect time to strip naked when I pulled the last chop out of the cast iron pan, putting it on the plate. "Dinner is served."

"My God it looks amazing," Jordan said as she cut into it. "I've never had veal, though. What's it taste like?"

"Veal is young cow," I said, "so it should be like a really tender beef."

She took her first bite, her eyes closing in appreciation of the meal. "This . . . this is the best thing I've ever put in my mouth," she said. "You lied when you said you weren't very good. You just haven't tried yet. But this . . . buttery, crispy . . . you could be a chef with this talent, Francois."

"Thank you," I said, my face warm from the unexpected praise. "I guess I was just lucky tonight."

After a nice meal where Jordan finished her story, I built up the fire while she made sure her hands were totally clean. "No use saving the wood, we're going tomorrow," I said as I added another log to the stove. "Might as well be totally warm for an evening."

Jordan hummed and nodded. She strummed a few notes on the guitar before picking up her fingering. I couldn't place it at first until Jordan's voice started, plaintive and haunting. She was right in that she was a better guitar player than she was a singer, but the main reason that it took me a while to place the song was because it was originally recorded for a man. It made sense, rock isn't generally a woman's arena, and that comes doubly for love songs. However, the original artist couldn't hold a candle to Jordan Banks that evening in the San Bernardino mountains as she brought the Spanish guitar influence to her playing, leaving both Felix and me speechless.