Providence Bound

Book of Job

PROVIDENCE. November, monday to tuesday.

Gal's waiting by the bar with everybody's money, and, like clockwork, you and the other girls get into a nice and orderly line and wait your turn. The chairs are stacked atop their tables, and as the line dwindles, Ron starts taking the barstools and putting them up, too.

Your money comes to you in an envelope. It's heavier than usual, and when you take it and fiddle with it some, you hear what sounds like a couple coins sliding past one another—feel them, too, through the paper envelope. Is the madam tryna get rid of her loose change?

Barclay's warning echoes in your head, and a frown starts pressing at you, but you pocket your money and head for the foyer with Ducky. Davide's there, waiting for her. He puts his arm around her when the two of you get close, and the smile what's pulling at his lips is nice and warm. He's got brown eyes. Dark brown, and when they look at Ducky, their shape softens into a thing what's as tender as down, but he acknowledges you with a little tilt of the head before turning most of his attention to the girl what's squeezing the hand he's got sitting on her hip.

"Listo?" he inquires, and Ducky understands him just fine because she nods.

A smile's curling her lips, and she kisses Davide on the mouth before turning to you and inclining her head. "I'll see you tomorrow, Poppy," she says, and you know what that means, but it's Davide, so you grin.

"See you." You wave them goodbye, and Davide nods to you before he and Ducky turn to leave. They look so nice together, and as they walk out the door, Ducky leans her head against his shoulder.

She's gonna be skipping when she gets home. She usually is after spending a night with him. Ain't each night perfect, nor every day, neither, but that's life, and they've always managed to come together afterward.

You find yourself a corner what you can wait for Goldie and Gal in, but the envelope what's got your money in it is pressing at your hip, and the weight of those coins is so heavy—so harsh. You didn't feel no dollars with them, but there's gotta be some there. The madam wouldn't leave you with nothing but change. That'd just be cruel.

You peer down at your hands, touch them and wring them and squeeze your knuckles so bad they almost ache. You could peek now. Nobody's stopping you.

Your hand starts shifting, and your fingertips graze the envelope's edges, but then a shape comes sidling up to you. You spy it just out of the corner of your eye, and you jump and look up real quick, but there ain't many fellas what walk so quiet-like, and two of them work at the dance hall. This fella's hair is dark brown, and he's wearing that jacket what he always sports. Must be his favorite.

Zachariah's really gotta stop sneaking up on you like this. Might scare your soul right outta you one of these days.

You suck in a deep, heavy breath and splay your palm flat against your chest, but around the amusement what's got him chuckling all low, Zachariah offers an apology, and real slow-like, the air what you sucked in so quick leaves you—seeps right out your nose. You shake your head at him, but there ain't nothing in you what's hard or angry, and the firmest thing what you manage is a frown.

Zachariah's eyes flick up and down you, but then he looks at where you're standing and contemplates just for a second why before inquiring, in a tone what's smooth and easy, "You need somebody to walk you home?"

Well, you were gonna wait on Gal and Goldie, but it don't really matter all too much, really—just wanna get home and get to bed, what with your feet aching so bad and it being so late—so you incline your head.