Last week, on Cafe Corante...
..."My name is Ebony..." ...
..."Cool. Should you really try to shoot us for that though, or was that for dramatic effect too?"
"I have a very good reason for wanting to shoot you"
"Oh." ...
...This week...
Ebony fell silent, staring vacuously at her "Bloody Mary", running a slender digit around the rim.
No-one spoke for a good minute. So I decided to prompt her.
"Ebony-" I ventured,
"It was the magician", she said suddenly, fixing my gaze. "She took-....do you know what she did?"
"No", I said, my eyes darting momentarily to the floor. Ed said nothing but shook his head slowly, maintaining eye contact with this beautiful, sad woman. There was a long pause as Ebony's gaze began searching the room.
"Why do they come here?" she asked, turning her attention back to me.
"Dunno", I replied, pausing for thought. "I guess we're all looking for something, beyond just eating and sleeping, and some people think they might find a bit of that here".
Glances are exchanged and silent nods signal concurrence. It's a weird and awkward situation. I don't really want to be doing this right now and I'd bet my left nut that Ed don't neither, but the alternative reeks of kicking, scratching and premature death.
- 4 -
"Let's drink", I suggest, with a charitable grin.
We charge our glasses and promptly neck our respective beverages. Ebony holds up her glass but doesn't make eye contact. Nobody says "here's to", coz five of the six of us still haven't the foggiest what we're doing here. And the one that does isn't really talking. Not yet. Hence the social lubrication sponsored by Smirnoff. Potatoes could save our lives here.
To be honest, now that my heart rate has subsided somewhat, I'm a little curious. We've had a few magicians through here, though I don't want to press for details. Ebony still has the gun. She'll talk when she's ready.
I look at our three travellers, sitting awkwardly silent, clutching their empty glasses, taking in the scenery of the lounge and throwing the occasional furtive glance in Ebony's direction. I don't even know their names.
"French right?" I ask, looking them in the eye and breaking the silence.
"Ahh two Belgian and one Swedish" answers one of the young ladies in a thick Belgian accent, gesturing appropriately as to who comes from where.
"I'm Elodie, this is Adele, and this is my boyfriend Lukas"
"Oh great, I'm Ned, this is Ed, and..this is Ebony", I calmly replied, also gesturing accordingly.
"Hello, hello, hello", everyone greeted eachother quietly, nodding politely in eachother's direction. Even Ebony participated to a certain extent, albeit far more distractedly. The yellow pistol remained in her right hand which was resting on her right thigh. She was still very much in control and centre stage of this impromptu little soiree. Nobody wanted to be the cat that got too curious.
"'Nuther round of drinks?" Ed enquired, looking around the group, eyebrows raised innocently to convey this is a question, not a demand.
"Absolutely", was the general reply, implied or otherwise.
"Roger", Ed obliged, pushing himself to his feet.
"I'll grab some snacks", I declared, also jumping to my feet to join Ed behind the bar for a quick debrief.
Sidling up together behind the apparent safety of said bar as we prepared our respective offerings, I confer with Ed in hushed tones from the corner of my mouth:
"Ed"
"Noodle"
"What - the - faaaark??"
...to be continued...
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