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"I got mad at him," I said.
"Why?"
"He broke a promise to me," I said. Jason was trying hard to act like a big brother, and I should try to
accept his concern instead of getting mad. It occurred to me, not for the first time, that possibly I had a
pretty hot temper. Under some circumstances. I locked my sixth sense down firmly, so I would only hear
what Jason was actually saying.
"He's been seen over in Monroe."
I took a deep breath. "With someone else?"
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"Yes."
"Who?"
"You're not going to believe this. Portia Bellefleur."
I couldn't have been more surprised if Jason had told me Bill had been dating Hillary Clinton (though Bill
was a Democrat). I stared at my brother as if he'd suddenly announced he was Satan. The only things
Portia Bellefleur and I had in common were a birthplace, female organs, and long hair. "Well," I said
blankly. "I don't know whether to pitch a fit or laugh. What do you make of that?"
Because if anyone knew about man-woman stuff, it was Jason. At least, he knew about it from the man's
point of view.
"She's your opposite," he said, with undue thoughtfulness. "In every way that I can think of. She's real
educated, she comes from an, I guess you'd call it, aristocratic background, and she's a lawyer. Plus, her
brother's a cop. And they go to symphonies and shit."
Tears prickled at my eyes. I would have gone to a symphony with Bill, if he'd ever asked me.
"On the other hand, you're smart, you're pretty, and you're willing to put up with his little ways." I wasn't
exactly sure what Jason meant by that, and thought it better not to ask. "But we sure ain't aristocracy.
You work in a bar, and your brother works on a road crew." Jason smiled at me lopsidedly.
"We've been here as long as the Bellefleurs," I said, trying not to sound sullen.
"I know that, and you know that. And Bill sure knows that, because he was alive then." True enough.
"What's happening about the case against Andy?" I asked.
"No charges brought against him yet, but the rumors are flying around town thick and fast about this sex
club thing. Lafayette was so pleased to have been asked; evidently he mentioned it to quite a few people.
They say that since the first rule of the club is Keep Silent, Lafayette got whacked for his enthusiasm."
"What do you think?"
"I think if anyone was forming a sex club around Bon Temps, they woulda called me," he said, dead
serious.
"You're right," I said, struck again by how sensible Jason could be. "You'd be number one on the list."
Why hadn't I thought of that before? Not only did Jason have a reputation as a guy who'd heated up
many a bed, he was both very attractive and unmarried.
"The only thing I can think of," I said slowly, "Lafayette was gay, as you well know."
"And?"
"And maybe this club, if it exists, only accepts people who are all right with that."
"You might have a point there," Jason said.
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"Yes, Mr. Homophobe."
Jason smiled and shrugged. "Everybody's got a weak point," he said. "Plus, as you know, I've been
going out with Liz pretty steady. I think anyone with a brain would see Liz ain't about to share a napkin,
much less a boyfriend."
He was right. Liz's family notoriously took "Neither a borrower nor a lender be" to a complete extreme.
"You are a piece of work, brother," I said, focusing on his shortcomings, rather than those of Liz's folks.
"There are so many worse things to be than gay."
"Such as?"
"Thief, traitor, murderer, rapist . . ."
"Okay, okay, I get the idea."
"I hope you do," I said. Our differences grieved me. But I loved Jason anyway; he was all I had left.
I saw Bill out with Portia that same night. I caught a glimpse of them together in Bill's car, driving down
Claiborne Street. Portia had her head turned to Bill, talking; he was looking straight ahead,
expressionless, as far as I could tell. They didn't see me. I was coming from the automated teller at the
bank, on my way to work.
Hearing of and seeing directly are two very different things. I felt an overwhelming surge of rage; and I
understood how Bill had felt, when he'd seen his friends dying. I wanted to kill someone. I just wasn't [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl fopke.keep.pl
"I got mad at him," I said.
"Why?"
"He broke a promise to me," I said. Jason was trying hard to act like a big brother, and I should try to
accept his concern instead of getting mad. It occurred to me, not for the first time, that possibly I had a
pretty hot temper. Under some circumstances. I locked my sixth sense down firmly, so I would only hear
what Jason was actually saying.
"He's been seen over in Monroe."
I took a deep breath. "With someone else?"
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Yes."
"Who?"
"You're not going to believe this. Portia Bellefleur."
I couldn't have been more surprised if Jason had told me Bill had been dating Hillary Clinton (though Bill
was a Democrat). I stared at my brother as if he'd suddenly announced he was Satan. The only things
Portia Bellefleur and I had in common were a birthplace, female organs, and long hair. "Well," I said
blankly. "I don't know whether to pitch a fit or laugh. What do you make of that?"
Because if anyone knew about man-woman stuff, it was Jason. At least, he knew about it from the man's
point of view.
"She's your opposite," he said, with undue thoughtfulness. "In every way that I can think of. She's real
educated, she comes from an, I guess you'd call it, aristocratic background, and she's a lawyer. Plus, her
brother's a cop. And they go to symphonies and shit."
Tears prickled at my eyes. I would have gone to a symphony with Bill, if he'd ever asked me.
"On the other hand, you're smart, you're pretty, and you're willing to put up with his little ways." I wasn't
exactly sure what Jason meant by that, and thought it better not to ask. "But we sure ain't aristocracy.
You work in a bar, and your brother works on a road crew." Jason smiled at me lopsidedly.
"We've been here as long as the Bellefleurs," I said, trying not to sound sullen.
"I know that, and you know that. And Bill sure knows that, because he was alive then." True enough.
"What's happening about the case against Andy?" I asked.
"No charges brought against him yet, but the rumors are flying around town thick and fast about this sex
club thing. Lafayette was so pleased to have been asked; evidently he mentioned it to quite a few people.
They say that since the first rule of the club is Keep Silent, Lafayette got whacked for his enthusiasm."
"What do you think?"
"I think if anyone was forming a sex club around Bon Temps, they woulda called me," he said, dead
serious.
"You're right," I said, struck again by how sensible Jason could be. "You'd be number one on the list."
Why hadn't I thought of that before? Not only did Jason have a reputation as a guy who'd heated up
many a bed, he was both very attractive and unmarried.
"The only thing I can think of," I said slowly, "Lafayette was gay, as you well know."
"And?"
"And maybe this club, if it exists, only accepts people who are all right with that."
"You might have a point there," Jason said.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Yes, Mr. Homophobe."
Jason smiled and shrugged. "Everybody's got a weak point," he said. "Plus, as you know, I've been
going out with Liz pretty steady. I think anyone with a brain would see Liz ain't about to share a napkin,
much less a boyfriend."
He was right. Liz's family notoriously took "Neither a borrower nor a lender be" to a complete extreme.
"You are a piece of work, brother," I said, focusing on his shortcomings, rather than those of Liz's folks.
"There are so many worse things to be than gay."
"Such as?"
"Thief, traitor, murderer, rapist . . ."
"Okay, okay, I get the idea."
"I hope you do," I said. Our differences grieved me. But I loved Jason anyway; he was all I had left.
I saw Bill out with Portia that same night. I caught a glimpse of them together in Bill's car, driving down
Claiborne Street. Portia had her head turned to Bill, talking; he was looking straight ahead,
expressionless, as far as I could tell. They didn't see me. I was coming from the automated teller at the
bank, on my way to work.
Hearing of and seeing directly are two very different things. I felt an overwhelming surge of rage; and I
understood how Bill had felt, when he'd seen his friends dying. I wanted to kill someone. I just wasn't [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]