Being Henry David - By Cal Armistead Page 0,11
make breakfast and we can have ourselves a nice little chat.”
Unlike the rest of his disgusting apartment, Magpie’s kitchen is as neat and tidy as he is, or at least as he appears to be. Countertops are clean, silver appliances glimmer. There’s actually a vase of white flowers on the table. Somehow, this guy is a neat freak and a total hoarding slob at the same time.
He makes us pancakes and sausage links, and even though I don’t have any appetite at all, I take a few bites so I won’t insult him. While we try to eat the food he cooked, Magpie calmly discusses our future options with us.
“In short, you are completely screwed,” he says, sounding ridiculously formal with his British accent. “So what are we to do with you? The cops will likely be searching for the three of you together, so the first thing you need to do is split up.” He dunks a tea bag into a flowered teacup. “Jack, go to Port Authority and look up Ginger and Watchdog. They’ll know what to do with you.” Jack slumps slightly but doesn’t say a word. “Miss Vanessa, I’ve called my connections uptown and they’re prepared to give you a makeover within the hour. I think blond hair would suit you.” Nessa pokes at a sausage with her fork.
Magpie’s glance reaches me, and his eyes sweep me from head to toe, as if I’m some racehorse he might consider buying. “Thank you, Jack, for bringing Henry to me, although obviously, I would’ve preferred less dire circumstances.”
What does he mean by “bringing” me to him? I slide narrowed eyes at Jack, but he won’t look at me.
“Now, what shall we do with you, Henry?” Magpie taps a shiny fingernail against his china teacup.
I glance at Jack’s bruised face and the black eye that’s turning purple, then at Magpie. His fancy robe gaps open at the chest and I glimpse what looks like a grayish T-shirt underneath. I bet he sits around in his dirty underwear all day and only covers himself with that classy-looking robe when someone comes to the door.
Not waiting for me to respond, Magpie blows on his steaming cup of tea and takes a sip. “I believe it’s fair to say you work for me now.” He sets his cup back down on the polished wood table. “Understand?”
Magpie sits all formal and proper at his table, but I sense sharp talons, a razor-sharp beak, black wings beating at my face. I know I should pretend to agree with him, but instead I shake my head and whisper, “No.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see the desperate, warning glances I’m getting from Jack and Nessa, but I ignore them.
Magpie smiles and tilts his head to the side, like maybe he’s really fond of me. He stands and gets something out of a drawer next to the sink. There’s a flash of metal and before I can react, the barrel of a gun jams into my cheek so hard I swear it almost knocks out a molar. There’s a loud click as Magpie cocks back the hammer.
“Maybe you woke up yesterday morning on your own, but things are different now. You know the kind of business I do, or at least you have an idea. You assaulted one of my clients in that alley. And now you know where I live. We are in this together, Henry. Do we understand each other?” Cold metal invades my face. Slowly, I nod.
Magpie grins at me and removes the gun from my cheek. “Good boy. Welcome to the family.” He smacks me on the back like a kind uncle. “Now first off, you need to bathe and put on some different clothes. I think you’d clean up quite nicely, given half a chance.” He looks me up and down. “Yes, indeed. You’ll do just fine.” He turns toward the sink and places the gun back in its drawer. “Vanessa, darling, do the dishes, won’t you? Jack, get Henry cleaned up. I think you’ll find something just about his size in the bedroom closet.”
Without a word, Jack leads me into another room, presumably Magpie’s bedroom. Except for a fancy fourposter bed in the corner covered with a shiny smoothed-down purple bedspread, every surface of the room is buried in more junk. There is broken furniture and piles of old clothes, cardboard boxes overflowing with empty wine bottles and fast food wrappers. And strangest of all, clusters of moldy-looking