Your Corah gotta piece of this fuckeen big heart right here.” He beat his chest. “But Papa Brise don’t do fuckeen nothing’ for free. Feel me?”
I shrugged at that. What did I even have that he could want?
“Strikes me yer reward should be helping the law,” drawled Sixkiller.
Papa Brise blinked his piggy eyes at Sixkiller a few times then looked at me. “Fo’ fuckeen real?”
“The Marshall’s used to getting respect,” I replied. “Australians don’t get that so well.”
“You speakin’ out of school, Ranger?”
“Just an observation.”
His teeth appeared, surprisingly straight and clean, as his lips stretched into a grin. “Bitch is fuckeen funny.”
I let the “bitch” word slide on account of the odds and me still wanting something from him.
“I’m taking a fuckeen liking to you, Ranger, so I’m gonna take an IOU on this one. ’Cept you are gonna fuckeen owe me.”
“I won’t break the law for you,” I said automatically. “As long as you understand that.”
“Crystal fuckeen clear.”
He took a long nail file from a pocket inside his vest and poked at the stem of the feather. After a bit of prodding he stroked it. “See?”
I stepped closer. The feather had changed colour from a mottled grey brown to a soft pink which gradually brightened to the saucy red that reminded me of sunset over the park.
Papa Brise stroked it some more and the hue changed to the purple of the mesa.
“Birrimun Park colours,” I said without thinking.
“Your Park don’t have the fuckeen monopoly on those colours, Ranger,” said Papa Brise.
“She’s right though,” said Sixkiller.
I felt annoyed by the cowboy’s support, and worse, a tiny bit pleased as well.
“Feather’s from Manush,” said the big man.
“What’s that?”
“You saying it’s Romani?” asked Sixkiller.
Papa Brise nodded. “The original product, but is been tricked fuckeen out locally.”
“How do you know that?”
“Fuckeen branding, Ranger. How else? Only one person know who do nano-lumes like that.”
I arched an eyebrow.
“That fuckeen bitch Kadee Matari. And good luck with that.”
ChapterFourteen
I took Sixkiller home along the tourist route, picking the bus across the bridge from Gilgul and staying on the main line uptown. We got back to the Cloisters around 4am and parted in the lift with few words.
I drew my pistol before I thumbed my door open this time but no one jumped me. Even Aquila was a no show. The only sound I heard was Heart’s breathing in the bedroom. I stripped, dropped my clothes on the floor, sank into bed beside him and mimicked his breathing pattern until I fell asleep with my forehead resting against his shoulder blade and my foot on his calf.
I woke in the same position a couple of hours later when my alarm went off.
Heart slid his hand back onto my thigh and stroked it. “Late night.”
“Too late.”
“That cowboy making work for you?”
I sighed. “In ways you could never imagine.”
He rolled over to face me, so close that our lips almost touched. “You want to talk about it?”
I gave a slight headshake and a large yawn. A few stretches later I was able to speak again. “Not really. Just a case of a giant ego, a culture divide and some other shit.”
“Can’t help with the giant ego or the culture shock but I cog ‘other shit’.”
I stretched and drew back a little so I could see his face. “Says the guy who dropped out of political science to become an exotic dancer.”
His lips turned down. “You make it sound like I had a choice.”
The sketchy picture I had of Heart’s background went along the lines of… huge education debt, private loan, no job prospects, no family. When the debtors started to chase him, he used his attributes to kick start an income. Shame about it was he was good at dancing and good at women. Really good. Pretty soon he was top billing at his club and the education took a back seat.
The night we met, Caro
I shrugged at that. What did I even have that he could want?
“Strikes me yer reward should be helping the law,” drawled Sixkiller.
Papa Brise blinked his piggy eyes at Sixkiller a few times then looked at me. “Fo’ fuckeen real?”
“The Marshall’s used to getting respect,” I replied. “Australians don’t get that so well.”
“You speakin’ out of school, Ranger?”
“Just an observation.”
His teeth appeared, surprisingly straight and clean, as his lips stretched into a grin. “Bitch is fuckeen funny.”
I let the “bitch” word slide on account of the odds and me still wanting something from him.
“I’m taking a fuckeen liking to you, Ranger, so I’m gonna take an IOU on this one. ’Cept you are gonna fuckeen owe me.”
“I won’t break the law for you,” I said automatically. “As long as you understand that.”
“Crystal fuckeen clear.”
He took a long nail file from a pocket inside his vest and poked at the stem of the feather. After a bit of prodding he stroked it. “See?”
I stepped closer. The feather had changed colour from a mottled grey brown to a soft pink which gradually brightened to the saucy red that reminded me of sunset over the park.
Papa Brise stroked it some more and the hue changed to the purple of the mesa.
“Birrimun Park colours,” I said without thinking.
“Your Park don’t have the fuckeen monopoly on those colours, Ranger,” said Papa Brise.
“She’s right though,” said Sixkiller.
I felt annoyed by the cowboy’s support, and worse, a tiny bit pleased as well.
“Feather’s from Manush,” said the big man.
“What’s that?”
“You saying it’s Romani?” asked Sixkiller.
Papa Brise nodded. “The original product, but is been tricked fuckeen out locally.”
“How do you know that?”
“Fuckeen branding, Ranger. How else? Only one person know who do nano-lumes like that.”
I arched an eyebrow.
“That fuckeen bitch Kadee Matari. And good luck with that.”
ChapterFourteen
I took Sixkiller home along the tourist route, picking the bus across the bridge from Gilgul and staying on the main line uptown. We got back to the Cloisters around 4am and parted in the lift with few words.
I drew my pistol before I thumbed my door open this time but no one jumped me. Even Aquila was a no show. The only sound I heard was Heart’s breathing in the bedroom. I stripped, dropped my clothes on the floor, sank into bed beside him and mimicked his breathing pattern until I fell asleep with my forehead resting against his shoulder blade and my foot on his calf.
I woke in the same position a couple of hours later when my alarm went off.
Heart slid his hand back onto my thigh and stroked it. “Late night.”
“Too late.”
“That cowboy making work for you?”
I sighed. “In ways you could never imagine.”
He rolled over to face me, so close that our lips almost touched. “You want to talk about it?”
I gave a slight headshake and a large yawn. A few stretches later I was able to speak again. “Not really. Just a case of a giant ego, a culture divide and some other shit.”
“Can’t help with the giant ego or the culture shock but I cog ‘other shit’.”
I stretched and drew back a little so I could see his face. “Says the guy who dropped out of political science to become an exotic dancer.”
His lips turned down. “You make it sound like I had a choice.”
The sketchy picture I had of Heart’s background went along the lines of… huge education debt, private loan, no job prospects, no family. When the debtors started to chase him, he used his attributes to kick start an income. Shame about it was he was good at dancing and good at women. Really good. Pretty soon he was top billing at his club and the education took a back seat.
The night we met, Caro
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