The Game of Love and Death(33)

“Was it locked when you went outside?” she asked.

“Honestly? I haven’t a clue. My only thought was catching up with you.”

“It wasn’t. I made sure. And now it is. We’re locked out.”

“Is that a problem?”

“My pocketbook is in there,” she said. “My money and keys. I won’t be able to get into my house, or pay anyone to take me.”

He took her hand. “Let’s go around the front and knock like crazy,” he said. “Maybe someone will hear us. And I can always give you a lift.”

She wrested her fingers out of his, ignoring his suggestion that he drive her himself. “They’ll be gone. They’ll be gone and we’ll have no place to go until sunrise. And now this.” She held out her hand. “Rain.”

Henry looked up. A warm raindrop smacked his face. “Maybe it won’t turn out to be as bad as all that.”

As he spoke, the door swung open. In its dark mouth stood the bass player.

“Grady!” Flora said. “I thought you’d gone home.”

“I would have,” he said, staring at Henry with eyes full of hurt and malice. “But you left your things and I was worried. Who’s this, Flora?”

“This?” Flora said. “This is Henry. He helped write that newspaper article, the one on the Staggerwing —”

Grady interrupted. “I looked for you. Everywhere. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she said. Henry looked away. “Just talking.”

“Do you know how late it is?” Grady said. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Grady,” Flora said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I needed some air, and I ran into Henry in the alley.” She slipped out of Henry’s coat and handed it back to him. Henry could hardly bear the look in Grady’s eyes.

“Let’s go,” Grady said. “Let’s get you home where you belong. Your grandmother will be worried sick, just like I was.”


Grady pulled Flora into the Domino. Henry held his coat overhead as the sky started raining in earnest. He stood in the deluge until he was drenched. But he couldn’t be miserable. The soft hands of the rain on his skin made him feel as though he stumbled on the edge of someplace magical. He wasn’t sure which direction he should move next. And he wondered how serious Flora was when she said such things couldn’t happen, not even someday.





HENRY arrived at the Thorne mansion, every nerve in his body alight. He felt Flora in his arms, still breathed her essence in his jacket. He assumed everyone was asleep when he slipped inside, grateful the front door always swung on well-oiled hinges. He removed his shoes and crept toward the curving staircase.

Then Helen called his name.

Her voice had come from the kitchen. He found her sitting at the counter, which was laden with enough food to feed a hungry family. Cold cuts, soft rolls, sliced apples, cheese, a wedge of four-layer chocolate cake, and directly in front of her, a jar of strawberry preserves with a spoon sticking out of it.

“You’re out late.” Her tone was sharper than it had been earlier. She took a huge spoonful of jam and slid it into her mouth. “You could’ve invited me, Henry.”

It hadn’t occurred to him. But he was glad he hadn’t, even as he regretted Helen’s wounded feelings. “I thought you’d be far too tired. I apologize.”

“Oh, Henry.” Helen wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, pushed the jam away, and scanned the table for her next victim. “I’ll always rally for you.”

Henry’s collar felt tight.

“So where were you, anyway?” Helen shoved nearly half of her sandwich into her mouth. Henry’s eyes widened. “What? I get hungry. So hungry. You wouldn’t believe it.”

He had to look away a moment.

“There’s plenty to go around.”

Helen shoved the plates of rolls and meat in his direction. Henry, not one to decline food, put together a sandwich of his own.

“So you simply must tell me. Where were you? There’s something different about you right now.” She finished her sandwich and dragged the cake toward her. “Should I be jealous?”

Henry bit into his sandwich to buy time. A conversation with Helen must be what a tomato felt like when encountering a blade. He chewed and swallowed. “Listening to music.”

“Judging from the looks of you, it must have been” — she licked something red off her finger — “quite a show. Next time, you simply must take me.”

He took another, smaller bite, intending to shield himself with his sandwich for as long as he could. Helen tucked an enormous amount of cake into her mouth. The way she was looking at him made him check his fly, just to be sure.

“Of course,” he said, wishing he actually wanted to, wishing it didn’t feel like the single worst idea in the world. What if — he studied Helen, her hands, her wrists, and her heart-shaped face — what if he did choose her? He tried to imagine that life he was supposed to want, the security it would represent, the way it would please the Thornes and spare Helen’s feelings. And Flora had said they could never be together, not even someday. He shook his head and fought to focus.

Helen smiled and lifted another forkful of cake. “Wonderful. When shall we go?” She filled her mouth. As she chewed, she didn’t blink, even once. She reached across the table and tapped the back of his hand with a light fingertip. The room darkened and Henry lost feeling in his feet and legs. He gripped the table’s edge.