Chapter 16: Ain’t Gonna Study War No More...

Nelson Xing took the bait. It was at an afternoon charity do — a silent auction held in the historic Park Avenue Armory to raise money for voter registration among African American women.

Nelson shyly approached Jia Li Chi’ng as her two bodyguards moved closer. “Excuse me, ma’am, might I have a word?”

Jia Li turned her dazzling smile on him, “Regarding... ?”

Rotund, sleek, wearing a tailored dinner jacket with a maroon cummerbund, Nelson flashed a white, white smile. Perfect teeth, cosmetic dentistry.

“Is it true ... I heard a rumor,” he nodded to his brother, “Drake and I heard a rumor that you’re ... um, royalty.”

Jia Li stood placidly in her elegant yellow silk, ankle-length outfit. Royal-blue buttons ran diagonally from her right shoulder down to the left-side hem. The two bodyguards moved closer, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her. One murmured something in Mandarin into his shoulder mic. Nelson and Drake glanced nervously at them.

Jia Li smiled again, reassuringly, and said, “Stand down, guys, it’s okay.” A startling accent straight out of The Bronx coming from such a delicate face.

She winked at Nelson, nodded to Drake and said, “I don’t believe a word of it, myself. But Beijing keeps sending me money and has me guarded 24/7, so who knows?” She shrugged, “Who really knows?”

Slipstream cruised by with a tray of champagne flutes; neither she nor Jia Li paid any attention to each other.

Drake spoke for the first time, “May we treat you to dinner after the auction? It would be a genuine pleasure.”

“Sorry, I’m on my way to a dreary meeting with two gentlemen from the Dongcheng District.”

Nelson sucked in his breath, “The Forbidden City!”

“Yes, I suppose so. Something about the Qing dynasty. I have to meet with them every quarter. Quite boring, I don’t understand half of what they’re saying.”

One of her guards whispered in her ear.

Jia Li Chi’ng smiled, “We’re off.”

Ladyfingers nodded in approval from across the room. The hook was set.

The insurance call seemed to go to the central switchboard at the Pentagon. While it was being ‘forwarded’, Lacy Danube smiled appreciatively as Chase Windsor said, “Colonel Patterson’s office, Sergeant Collins speaking.”

Lacy kept him waiting for three and a half minutes, “You missed the deadline by a full day, Mr. Willoughby.”

“I have a bank-certified check from J. P. Morgan Chase. It’s dated last Wednesday, Colonel.”

“Full amount?”

“Of course, $1,475,000.”

“Why didn’t you wire it on time?”

“Helmsley had a heart attack. He may or may not make it. Fredricks couldn’t get the Board to commit until just now.”

Lacy projected reluctance and sighed, “Give me three hours. That’s two o’clock your time. If I don’t call you by then, wire the money to Frankfurt Re’s Vaduz account. That’s if I do NOT call you. I’m sure you saved the bank details — Liechtensteinische Landesbank AG in Vaduz.”

“Yes, yes. Liechtenstein. And Celebrity Hotels will be covered?”

“My partner in Frankfurt will have to ... rearrange some files. But he wants the commission and Frankfurt Re wants extended coverage in the travel industry. Your company’s participation should lead to additional sales. In any case, don’t submit a claim until the 24th of this month.”

“But we’re covered?”

“If I don’t call you to stop the wire transfer. If you wait until the 24th ... then yes, the Celebrity Hotel Corporation will have $145,000,000 in pandemic insurance coverage.”

Chase enjoyed his conversations with Eulalie. The little girl was extremely bright, surprisingly curious about any subject he brought up. He wasn’t grooming her, not exactly. Yet the soliloquies and interrogatories certainly weren’t the type of discussions that would occur in any standard classroom.

No, Chase was simply probing, testing limits. He patted her bare butt, “College knowledge.”

“I’m in middle school.”

“College knowledge.”

“Okay.”

“Now you don’t need to know why Girolamo Savonarola was excommunicated; nor understand the essence of Ludwig Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus.

“Whew, I’d been worrying about both of those.”

“But, let’s say you’re meeting an Oxford don, or the President of Yale.”

“Okay.”

“Study him beforehand.”

“Or her.”

“Or her. Learn what her passions are. Malthusian economics or the poetry of Wystan Hugh Auden.’

“Is that W. H. Auden?”

“It is.”

“I heard of him. I looked him up when I streamed that wedding movie. With a funeral.”

Chase smiled with delight and recited the famous lines from memory,

“He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.”

Eulalie mouthed the last three words in sync with Chase.

If Marie were the least surprised to see her younger sister stark fucking naked in front of Chase and Rémy, she didn’t show it. Marie hadn’t assumed that Eulalie would start fucking the conman, but it was hardly a shocker either.

And Rémy? Eulalie had never been shy, and certainly wasn’t around Marie’s sometimes-beau.

Chase was scrolling through his cell. Rémy was grilling burgers out on the deck, using that 6-year old cheddar from Contrary Mary’s. Eulalie was on her back, hands supporting her butt, legs bicycling in the air. The girl would exercise for a good hour. Or until lunch was ready.

Marie smiled to herself; Eulalie was fearless. Wonder where she got that?

The mosquitoes were bad that afternoon, so the four of them ate in air-conditioned comfort around the kitchen table. The chilly temperature made four nipples harden — Eulalie’s were visible.

Marie smiled at Chase, “So what’s your schedule?”

“I’ll wait to see Ethan this evening; then I’ll leave in the morning.” He smiled at Eulalie, “If someone will give me a ride into town.”

Eulalie smiled back — she’d give him a ride if he’d give her one more ride. Before Ethan came back.

Chase Windsor checked his Cayman account, and wasn’t surprised that the $75,000 wire from Lacy had arrived a day early. HIs minor role in the Paul Citron affair was over, but he had already decided to spend one more day in Sausalito. He wanted to see Ethan Dalton again. He liked the man, and wanted to hear his perspective on the Citron takedown. Plus, it never hurt to have a high-level contact in DC.

Chase slapped Eulalie on her naked butt, “Move your stuff back into Ethan’s room.”

“You’re leaving, Mr. Jones?”

“Tomorrow.”

As sensual and vivacious as Eulalie Guidry was, she was also a listener. Ethan and Chase were like no one she’d ever met, ever even imagined.

One morning, Chase made a series of calls — “Time to refresh my Fall wardrobe.”

Eulalie had a few winter things — it did get cold, even in Southern Mississippi — but she’d never considered a seasonal wardrobe. Chase called stores she’d never heard of — Ben Silver, J. Press, The Gap, but just for khakis. Well, she’d heard of that one. Then another one in New York called the Armoury.

He seemed to know someone in every store. “Hi Mark, you have my measurements. Three knit jackets — you know the drill — sweatshirt comfort with lapels and pockets. No, I’ll pick them up in Hong Kong. Slacks too.”

He listened, asked, and answered detailed questions; and, Eulalie realized, did so without referring to a single note.

“Good, transfer me to City Hunter.” There he told someone named Chick, “Overshirts, five of them, please. A country slant. And an assortment of cashmere turtlenecks.”

He listened for a moment, “No, Chick. When I buy Fall and Winter clothes, I want permanence. A part of my forever wardrobe, so ... only Salle Privée sweaters, please.”

Chase nodded in satisfaction, “That’s right, now switch me over to Arthur’s Standard.”

Where he spoke in a more flirty tone with Toni, “Hullo, luv, it’s Chase. I’m in desperate need of shawl-collared cardigans. No, no, simple muted tones — charcoal and navy. Cream makes me look like I’m still in pajamas.”

He laughed, “Maybe someday, darling.”

“Yes, my measurements are all the same. I still dress left. And, add an assortment of 7-fold ties; you know the patterns I prefer. Let’s see ... oh, a waxed canvas jacket with corozo buttons, like a Barbour. Now, I also need a special gift — she’s a size four. I want a winter coat made of quviut. What? It’s the finest wool in the world. Google Vogue — DV called it the ultimate in luxury.”

He listened for a few moments, an amused expression, “Toni, it’s simply Alaskan musk-ox wool.”

He told a man named Mr. Clarence, “I like your new last-master; he fits in with the Lobb tradition. Now here’s what I need from you; the Phillip II, the Abbot, and new trainers — the Levah.” He listened for a moment and laughed, “Suede? You know me better than that. Top grain only — nabuk.”

By the time Chase had ordered three pairs of bespoke shoes from John Lobb in London, Eulalie thought: I want to do that. Rather: I want to be able to do that.

Chase looked at the little Cajun girl, “What?”

“I just wanted to say — you’re okay when you’re not acting like a wet cat.”

Logan wasn’t entirely comfortable piloting Eulalie’s Jon boat, but he was pretty sure he could find the safe-house, sooner or later. Ethan didn’t question the decision. He held the flashlight as Logan steered slowly, carefully, through the dark waters.

There it was. Ethan tied off the boat, and they climbed up the outside stairway. Eulalie, stark naked, flung herself at the senator, “Mr. Smith!”

“Hello, Eulalie.”

She hugged his arm and led the men into the living room. Marie, Chase, and Rémy greeted them. Eulalie sashayed into the kitchen, “I’ll warm up your supper. It’s just cheeseburgers, no fries. Who wants a beer?”

Around ten, Marie took Logan and Rémy out on the deck. She didn’t really think it was necessary to remind Logan about the extra money that Lacy had wired into her new offshore account. Seven figures, more than she’d ever dreamed about.

But, just to be safe, she looked at Logan and said, “Lacy sent Rémy and me an extra $50,000. That comes to a bonus for the Dobermans — $7,500 each.”

“That’s excellent, Marie. You and Rémy earned it. And it’s generous to share some of it with the Dobermans.”

“Yeah, they’re part of our sanctuary team, even though they didn’t do much this time.”

She turned to Rémy, “You take Eulalie’s boat home. Logan will stay with me.”

Rémy wasn’t really surprised at the news; she’d told him about skinny dipping in that tidal pool. But he was a little startled at the openness of the discussion.

In the safe-house, Eulalie stayed up with Ethan and Chase until almost 2. She couldn’t get enough of listening to the two of them talk.

Marie took Logan into her shower, “Let’s get rid of the road dust.”

As she toweled him off, she bent down and kissed the tip of his erection. “Once you nail that Apache, Lacy’s going to take you away from me.”

Direct, as she usually was.

Logan looked at one of the sexiest girls he’d ever seen, “Well.”

Marie shrugged, “Lacy gets what Lacy wants.”

She bent down, “Let’s get the first one out of the way,” and took him in her mouth.

Madison called Logan, “She got you, didn’t she?”

She. Marie.

“Yeah.”

“Aw, Logan.” Click.

Eulalie usually had a quiet erotic thrum coursing through her body, and late as it was, she reached eagerly for Ethan. He smiled to himself — she wasn’t the Fountain of Youth, but the nubile teenager had rekindled a passion that he hadn’t felt for some time. This time around, he was pleasantly surprised at how long he had lasted.

As she always did in the safe-house, Eulalie got up first. Showered and started fixing breakfast for her men. Chicory and American coffee, bacon frying, eggs and toast on order.

After breakfast, Ethan and Chase talked quietly while Eulalie cleaned up. Then it was time. Holding his buffalo cape bag, Chase shook hands with Ethan, who said, “Let’s stay in touch.”

“Yes.”

As Chase and Eulalie descended the stairs, he started to say, “Aren’t you going to dress?” Then decided not to. This little bayou girl was strong-headed. As she threaded the meandering path to the City Docks, Eulalie waved to men in a couple of Jon boats. She was obviously comfortable being seen by the Cajun residents.

Chase nodded at Grumpy, and Eulalie said, “I saw that.”

“Just maintaining good relations with the locals.”

As they neared land, Chase said, “When I call for you, be ready to leave that day.”

She laughed, “That’s the most unromantic booty call I ever heard.”

Chase looked at her steadily, “It’s an audition.”

As Marie started to straddle Logan, he said, “Do the Dobermans know Ethan and I are in town?”

She lowered herself, “Shh.”

Later on, she said, “In theory the Dobermans don’t know you guys are in town.”

“In theory?”

“YesBut is pretty crafty. After 30 years in Detroit.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I do. Why?”

“He put a tracker on my car.”

Marie laughed, “That’s YesBut all right. Suspicious of everyone. I encourage that, so does Rémy.”

“Show them the photos of Apache. That video system is our tripwire.”

Quintin Apace bought a dark blue 2014 Camaro for cash. Added a tow bar for his Kawasaki and trailer, and headed east for Washington DC, Dalton’s last known address. And the area where he would begin his search for Madison.

He spread word to his tracers, “Concentrate on DC.”

One indicator of how deeply the Miss Kitty’s ethos had permeated the town was on full display when Gigi attended a parent-teacher conference at John Lee regarding her youngest son, Tee-James.

The vice-principal, and current acting-principal, René Boudreaux, spotted her in the hallway, “Miss October! MILF of the month. Congratulations, Mrs. Fontenot.”

Gigi beamed. T-James, holding his mother’s hand, stared up at her with pride just shining through.

Mr. Boudreaux looked her up and down. Gigi straightened her posture and thrust out her chest a little. He winked, “If I’d been allowed to cast a vote, you would have been it.”

Gigi felt a little surge of excitement. Her nipples hardened. She was glad she’d talked herself out of wearing a bra. It felt so much more sexy here inside John Lee. And having the vice-principal flirting with her!

She stood at eye level and lowered her voice, “Come see me at Miss Kitty’s, Mr. Boudreaux. You’ll be glad you did.”

Tee-James squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. Why shouldn’t the kid hear her flirting back? She was the October MILF.

Marie went into her office in town almost every morning. And Logan was mostly just hanging out in her house, waiting for word on Apache. Any word.

Marie and Logan were fucking. A lot.

Gradually a pattern emerged. Most days, Marie drove them to the safe-house for lunch and then again for dinner. Dinner and supper. Eulalie and Marie took turns cooking the midday meal. Most nights, Rémy showed up to prepare something tasty for all of them.

Eulalie joined him at the deck grill, “You hanging in there, Rémy?” Logan living with Marie.

He shrugged, “It is what it is. And it won’t be permanent.”

Both of them knew that Marie would never marry him. But he’d settle for having the sexiest girl in Sausalito as an occasional girlfriend. He glanced at Eulalie. Well, one of the two sexiest girls.

Eulalie gave him a cheek kiss and went back inside to see if Ethan wanted a quick BJ before dinner. He’d sorta gotten into the habit.

Between the two sisters, they were keeping their sanctuary guests fully satisfied. Satiated, some nights. They ran a full service operation. Eulalie would like to trade men, at least for a night. And Marie wouldn’t have minded a change of pace herself. But both girls were uncertain how Ethan and Logan would react.

Eulalie, who had once seen Logan coming out of Marie’s shower, asked, “How much bigger does it get?”

Marie thought about it, “Actually, not all that much. I mean, it’s so large anyway.”

“Yeah.”

Lacy called Logan, “Tell Ethan that I got a nibble. One of my people knows about a guy who’s in indirect contact with Apache.”