Free Orfeo by M. J. Lawless Page B

gambled.
    Her cigarette lit, the tip glowing an infernal red, the young girl looked up and frowned as she saw Baptiste and Ardyce. Baptiste continued to move forward but for a few seconds Ardyce appeared to be frozen to the spot. Seeing this, the other woman gave a leer, revealing large, white teeth with a gap at the front.
    “You’re here for him, ain’t ya,” she said. It was not a question and Ardyce merely nodded.
    Gesturing with the hand that held the cigarette to the stairs behind her, the girl said: “He’s up there. We wondered when you’d come.”
    “You know him?” Ardyce asked at last.
    “Oh, we all know Orfeo,” she replied. Her look was clear and shrewd, like a trader evaluating a purchase. “Not bad,” she said. “Not bad at all.”
    Ardyce was infuriated at this, but Baptiste continued to push past her in the narrow hallway, his chest touching against her shoulders. The young woman lifted up a hand and held him by the lapel of his jacket.
    “He’ll be expecting her ,” she said, her smile more lascivious now. “But I don’t think he’ll take so kindly to you . Why not join us, pops? My name’s Janine and I’m sure I can find some fun way for you to while away the time.”
    Shaking his head not unkindly, though a little embarrassed, Baptiste declined the offer. “No, thank you. I’ll wait for her.”
    The girl frowned and let her hand fall. “What’s wrong with you, man? You queer or something?”
    “As a matter of fact,” Baptiste said, tipping his hat in her direction, “my predilections do run that way.”
    At this, Janine shrugged, confused by his words and crestfallen by his refusal only for a moment. Then she raised her head and smirked at Ardyce. “You enjoy yourself, sister.” She then opened the door, letting the chaos of the room flood around them for a few seconds before slipping inside.
    Ardyce said nothing as she climbed the stairs after Baptiste, seething to herself at the thought of the prostitute linking the two of them in any way. Her anger, however, began to subside after they had climbed two flights of stairs. A third extended up ahead of them and now, as the noise downstairs faded away, she could hear more clearly the sound of a solitary guitar and a voice that she knew so well. Hearing it, she pushed past Baptiste and led the way.
    Invisible fingers slid across the frets of the guitar to moan sweetly in a twelve bar blues progression, a sound that was earthy and melancholy at the same time. Orfeo’s voice, emanating unseen from behind the battered red door ahead of her, was deep and rich, sad but also resigned to the music he was creating.
    “Hair burning red, as red as a flame,
    and eyes so green, as deep as the sea,
    your skin so pale I cannot tame—
    I burn and I drown when you come to me.”
    Both she and Baptiste had paused on the stairs, looking ahead to the door and the scored textures of its wooden frame. Glancing back toward her companion, she saw him suppressing a smile as he stared up at her. “Red hair and green eyes,” he remarked quietly. “I wonder who occupies our friend’s thoughts.”
    After giving him a warning frown, she turned her attention back to the door. The music had stopped, and they heard occasional, slightly dissonant noises as though the instrument was being tuned. Although there was part of her that wished to stay here on these steps and listen to that soft baritone and the sliding guitar, Ardyce knew that she had to speak to Orfeo at once. Stepping forward, she rapped sharply on the door.
    They both heard a shuffling sound from within and a few seconds later the door was opened. Orfeo’s tall, dark figure filled the doorway and he looked astonished when he saw Ardyce standing before him, Baptiste a few steps below her. He wore only a pair of jeans, his feet long and bare, the toes finely shaped, while his torso rose from a tight V at his waist to his broad shoulders and poised, muscled arms. Because they had surprised him,