"Don't worry about it," Remy said. He sounded calm about my refusal. "It was just a thought. Listen, here's the thing. I hate to ask for another favor. But Hunter has to visit the kindergarten next week, just a thing the school does every year so the kids will have a mental picture of the place they're going in the fall. They tour the classrooms, meet the teachers, and see the lunchroom and the bathrooms. Hunter asked me if you could go with us."
My mouth fell open. I was glad Remy couldn't see me. "This is during the day, I'm assuming," I said. "What day of the week?"
"Next Tuesday, two o'clock."
Unless I was on for the lunch shift, I could do it. "Again, let me check my work schedule, but I think that's going to be doable," I said. "I'll call you back tonight." I snapped my phone shut and told Sam about Remy's second request.
"Seems like he waited to ask you the more important thing second, so you'd be more likely to come," Sam asked.
I laughed. "I didn't think of that until you said it. My brain is wired in a straighter line than that. But now that it's crossed my mind, that seems . . . not unlikely." I shrugged. "It's not like I object, exactly. I want Hunter to be happy. And I've spent time with him, though not as much as I should have." Hunter and I were alike in a hidden way; we were both telepathic. But that was our secret because I feared Hunter might be in danger if his ability was known. It sure hadn't improved my life any.
"So why are you worried? Because I can tell you are," Sam said.
"Just . . . it'll look funny. People in Red Ditch will think Remy and I are dating. That I'm sort of--close to being Hunter's mom. And Remy just told me he's seeing a woman named Erin, and she may not like it. . . ." My voice trailed off. This visit seemed like a mildly bad idea. But if it would make Hunter happy, I supposed I ought to do it.
"You have that sucked-in feeling?" Sam's smile was wry. It was our day to talk about awkward things.
"Yeah," I admitted. "I do. When I got involved in Hunter's life, I didn't ever imagine he'd really depend on me for anything. I guess I've never been around kids that much. Remy's got a great-aunt and great-uncle in Red Ditch. That's why he moved there after Katrina. They had an empty rental house. But the aunt and uncle are too old to want to keep a kid Hunter's age for more than an hour or two, and the one cousin is too busy to be much help."
"Hunter a good kid?"
"Yes, I think he is." I smiled. "You know what's weird? When Hunter stayed with me, he and Claude got along great. That was a big surprise."
Sam glanced over at me. "But you wouldn't want to leave him with Claude for hours, would you?"
After a moment's thought, I said, "No."
Sam nodded, as if I'd confirmed something he'd been wondering about. "Cause after all, Claude's a fairy?" He put enough question into his voice to ensure that I knew he was genuinely asking me.
The words sounded very unpleasant said out loud. But they were the truth. "Yes, because Claude's a fairy. But not because he's a different race from us." I struggled with how to express what I wanted to say. "Fairies, they love kids. But they don't have the same frame of reference as most humans. Fairies'll do what they think will make the child happy, or will benefit the child, rather than what a Christian adult would do." It made me feel small and provincial to admit all this, but those were my true feelings. I felt like adding a series of disclaimers--Not that I think I'm such a great Christian, far from it. Not that non-Christians are bad people. Not that I think Claude would hurt Hunter. But Sam and I had known each other long enough that I was sure he'd understand all that.
"I'm glad we're on the same page," Sam said, and I felt relieved. But I was far from comfortable. We might be on the same page, but I wasn't happy about reading it.
Spring was verging on summer, and the day was beautiful. I tried to enjoy it all the way east to Monroe, but my success was limited.
My cousin Claude owned Hooligans, a strip club off the interstate outside Monroe. On five nights a week, it featured the conventional entertainment offered at strip clubs. The club was closed on Mondays. But Thursday night was Ladies Only, and that was when Claude stripped. Of course, he wasn't the only male who performed. At least three other male strippers came in on a rotating basis pretty regularly, and there was usually a guest stripper, too. There was a male strip circuit, my cousin had told me.
"You ever come here to watch him?" Sam asked as we pulled up to the back door.
He was not the first person to ask me that. I was beginning to think there was something wrong with me, that I hadn't felt the need to rush over to Monroe to watch guys take off their clothes.
"No. I've seen Claude naked. I've never come over to watch him do his thing professionally. I hear he's good."
"He's naked? At your house?"
"Modesty is not one of Claude's priorities," I said.
Sam looked both displeased and startled, despite his own earlier warning about the fae not thinking kin were off-limits sexually. "What about Dermot?" he said.
"Dermot? I don't think he strips," I said, confused.
"I mean, he doesn't go around the house naked, does he?"
"No," I said. "That seems to be a Claude thing. It would be really icky if Dermot did that, since he looks so much like Jason."
"That's just not right," Sam muttered. "Claude needs to keep his pants on."
"I dealt with it," I said, the edge in my voice reminding Sam that the situation was not his to worry about.
It was a weekday, so the place didn't open until four in the afternoon. I hadn't ever been to Hooligans before, but it looked like any other small club; set apart in a fair-sized parking lot, electric-blue siding, a jazzy shocking-pink sign. Places for selling alcohol or flesh always look a little sad in the daytime, don't they? The only other business close to Hooligans, now that I was looking, was a liquor store.
Claude had told me what to do in case I ever dropped in. The secret signal was knocking four times, keeping the raps evenly spaced. After that was done, I gazed out across the fields. The sun beat down on the parking lot with just a hint of the heat to come. Sam shifted uneasily from foot to foot. After a few seconds, the door opened.
I smiled and said hello automatically, and began to step into the hall. It was a shock to realize the doorman wasn't human. I froze.
I'd assumed that Claude and Dermot were the only fairies left in modern-day America since my great-grandfather had pulled all the fairies into their own dimension, or world, or whatever they called it, and closed the door. Though I'd also known that Niall and Claude communicated at least occasionally, because Niall had sent me a letter via Claude's hands. But I'd deliberately refrained from asking a lot of questions. My experiences with my fairy kin, with all the fae, had been both delightful and horrible . . . but toward the end, those experiences had come down far heavier on the horrible side of the scale.