Dragons Wild

Fifty-two

After everything that had happened, Griffen felt obliged to take Valerie out to a nice dinner. If nothing else, he felt they both deserved a relaxed evening in each other’s company.

Tonight, their restaurant of choice was the Desire Oyster Bar in the Royal Sonesta Hotel on Bourbon Street. While he normally avoided Bourbon Street except for listening to specific groups, he had developed a taste for the turtle soup they served at the Desire. That coupled with half a roast beef po’boy sandwich made for a very satisfying, filling meal.

As they were reaching the end of their meal, Griffen noticed an Asian gentleman and two young white men being seated at a table a short distance away. He specifically did not make eye contact or wave a greeting, but the Asian spotted him and nodded in smiling acknowledgment. Griffen nodded back.

“Who is that?” Valerie said.

“He’s a player from one of our games,” Griffen said. “He’s a really nice guy. A chef who relocated here from Atlanta and opened his own restaurant over on Decatur.”

“I notice you waited until he nodded to you before you nodded back.”

“I figure it’s basic manners,” Griffen said. “I don’t know who he’s with or why they’re here, but it could be awkward. If I waved at him, he’d either have to explain that he knows me from an illegal card game, or make up a fast story on the spot. If he faked it, they might stop me for conversation at a later point. Since I wouldn’t know what he told them, I could easily mess things up for him. It’s easier to let him acknowledge the acquaintance first.”

“I see,” Valerie said thoughtfully.

A well-dressed black man approached their table.

“Excuse me. It’s Mr. McCandles, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.” Griffen said, rising and shaking the offered hand. “Only I prefer ‘Griffen’ in informal situations.”

“Griffen it is.” The man smiled. “Sorry to interrupt your meal, but I was hoping you could do me a small favor.”

“It depends on the favor.” Griffen smiled back.

“Nothing illegal, I assure you,” the man said with a laugh. “You see, I don’t get to spend much time in the Quarter lately, and the young lady I’m with this evening wants to hear some real New Orleans music. I was hoping you could recommend someplace.”

“Well, it depends on what kind of music you want,” Griffen said. “If you like the old classics like “Basin Street Blues,” Steamboat Willie and his combo are playing just down the street here, in the courtyard across from the hotel’s main lobby. If you want Cajun and zydeco music, then go down a couple blocks across Toulouse to the Steak Pit. Denny T. is playing there tonight, and he’s the best Cajun fiddler I’ve heard in the Quarter. Plays a lot of Doug Kershaw material. On the other hand, if you’d like to try something a little different with more ambiance, Sean Kelly’s on St. Louis between Bourbon and Royal would be my suggestion. Beth Patterson is playing in there tonight, and she always puts on a great show. Some traditional Irish music with a lot of parodies, and her own material. It’s not like anything you’ll hear anywhere else.”

“I’ll try that. Thanks a million.”

The man waved and returned to his table.

“You’re really settling into the Quarter scene, aren’t you, Big Brother,” Valerie said. “Should I ask who that was?”

“Another one of our players,” Griffen said. “I think he’s one of the local politicos.”

“I notice you didn’t introduce me,” Valerie said.

“To tell you the truth, I couldn’t recall his name,” Griffen said. “Besides, I noticed that he didn’t bring his escort over to introduce her to us either. Of course, that’s probably because the young lady that’s with him isn’t his wife.”

Valerie choked on her drink, then dabbed at her mouth with her napkin.

“Is everything all right, folks?”

The waiter, a stout, white-haired black gentleman, was hovering at the table.

“I think we’re fine,” Griffen said. “Just a little more coffee and the check, please.”

“I’ll be right back with the coffee, but there’s no check tonight, sir.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, sir, Mr. Griffen,” the waiter said. “There’ll be no check for you tonight or any other night you come in on Amos’s shift. Amos, that’s me, sir.”

“Pleased to meet you, Amos,” Griffen said. “This is my sister, Valerie.”

“I thought that’s who it might be.” Amos smiled. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Valerie.”

“I’m still a little confused, Amos,” Griffen said. “How is it that you know me and why are you comping us this meal?”

“Well, sir, I knew who you were when you walked in tonight. A lot of the folks here in the Quarter know who you are and what you do,” Amos said. “I guess I just know a little more than most. You see, Gris-gris is my sister’s boy, and the whole family is grateful to you for helpin’ him out when he got in that scrape with the po-leece.”

“You’re Gris-gris’s uncle?” Griffen said. “No fooling?”

“No, sir. I wouldn’t joke about a thing like that,” Amos said earnestly. “Gris-gris always was a bit of a wild one, and we’ve always been a little worried for him. It’s a big load off our mind that he’s workin’ with a fine gentleman such as yourself, Mr. Griffen, and seeing a fine lady such as yourself, Ms. Valerie. Anyway, anytime you come in here on my shift, your money’s no good. It’s the least I can do to say thank you.”

“That’s very nice of you, Amos,” Valerie said.

“I appreciate it, Amos,” Griffen said, “but it presents me with a bit of a problem. You see, I really like the turtle soup here, and was planning on coming in more often. The trouble is, if I do that now, with you comping me, I’ll feel like I’m taking advantage of your generosity.”

“Don’t you worry about that none, Mr. Griffen,” Amos said. “You come in here as often as you like. I’d like nothing better than to see you in here every day.”

“All right, all right,” Griffen said, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “I know when I’m beat. But I insist that if I bring a party in here, I pay for it, not you.”

“We’ll have to see about that.” Amos grinned. “I’ll just get your coffee now.”

Griffen laughed and shook his head as the waiter retreated.

“What do you think about that?” he said.

“I think you’re really getting into this whole dragon thing,” Valerie said, without smiling.

“What do you mean?”

“The whole thing with people catering to you…waving at you and coming up to your table and giving you freebies. You’re really starting to enjoy it.”

“Hey. It’s all part of the business,” Griffen said. “You know, contacts and cocktails. It’s the same in any business. It’s just a bit more exaggerated here in New Orleans.”

“And since when did you concern yourself with business?” Valerie shot back.

Griffen studied her for a moment.

“Is something bothering you, Little Sister?” he said at last. “You’ve been making little comments like that all through dinner.”

“Yes…No…I don’t know,” Valerie said, shaking her head. “It’s just that you’ve changed since we got down here. Maybe you can’t see it because it’s happening gradually, but only seeing you every now and then, it’s apparent to me.”

“Changing like how?”

“Think back, Big Brother,” she said. “When you were in school, you never thought beyond today. You liked the soft, irresponsible life and only lived for the next card game or woman. Any attempt to get you to take anything seriously would have you running for the horizon. Now look at you. You’re heading up an entire gambling operation, schmoozing with the local bigwigs, and working at setting policy and procedures. That’s a big change no matter how you look at it. The thing is you seem to be enjoying it. You’re taking to it like a duck to water.”

“So, are you saying this change is a good thing, or a bad thing?” Griffen said thoughtfully.

“I don’t know yet,” Valerie said with a grimace. “The jury is still out on that one. It’s good to see you enjoying yourself. On the other hand, we already know you’re in the crosshairs. Actually, we both are. The weather may be cooling down a bit, but I’ve got a feeling things are going to get hot for us.”

Griffen considered what his sister had said for several moments, then rose from his seat, tossing some money on the table for a tip.

“Hate to eat and run, Little Sister,” he said, “but I think I need to have a chat with Mose. Maybe catch up with you later.”

“She’s right, Young Dragon,” Mose said with a smile. “Of course you’ve changed. You’ve had ideas and opinions ever since you got here. The difference is, now you’re doing more telling than asking.”

Griffen frowned.

“That makes me sound pretty pushy and arrogant,” he said.

“No. That makes you sound confident,” Mose said. “It makes you sound like a dragon.”

He leaned forward in his chair.

“Look at all you’ve learned and done in a little over two months,” he said earnestly. “You’ve got a good handle on our operation. You’ve handled a couple of potentially nasty situations pretty much by yourself. You’ve even made some changes in policies that have been in place for decades. Everybody in the crew looks to you for leadership…and a lot of folks outside the crew as well. For a new dragon, fresh out of the box, you’re doing yourself proud. If I had any doubts about turning the leadership over to you, they’re long gone.”

“I guess.” Griffen sighed. “Say, Mose. About the whole thing with taking over the leadership. How long do you figure it will be before I’m ready for that?”

Mose threw back his head and laughed.

“Young Dragon,” he said, “you haven’t been paying attention. It’s already happened. I just said that everyone is looking to you for leadership, and that includes me. For all intents and purposes, you are the dragon of this crew.”