The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Sixteen
BonBon's Hobby
“Two
of us are missing.”
Blake’s words failed to register at
first with Mort. But across the room a set of ears heard it all.
Sparrow popped up from behind the wood bar, the glint of
steel in one hand.
“Missing? Who is bloody missing?”
The
Captain caught his breath when he realized the gypsy Roux was coming
his way. He quickly hid his hands below the bar before the Irishman
reached him. Once out of view, Sparrow’s sleight of hand made
the
object disappear as easy as a magician hiding a coin.
“What
are you doing pirate? You are carving Megan’s name
again?” he
accused Sparrow.
Jack held up his hands, waving them forward
and back to show that they were empty. He leaned over the bar,
sneering, one side of his lip curled upward.
“Ye can’t carve
it if ye ain’t got a knife, now can ye?” Jack
wiggled his fingers
then put them out palm up for Roux to inspect. “Now, if ye
will
excuse me, there seems to be the pressing matter of a
misappropriation of our population.”
Jack slid casually
away from the bar, leaving Roux to inspect the under ledge of the bar
where he saw that indeed, Jack had once again carved the
woman’s
name into the wood. He concluded it was best to wait to fix it
tomorrow and turned his attention to the discussion of the missing
men.
Jack cursed himself for being careless and made a vow to
find another place for Megan’s name. He glanced up towards
the
ceiling, checking for the monkey, but the creature was nowhere in
sight.
“The book delivery kid.” Blake explained.
“Noodle-boy, or whatever his name was. Must have slipped out
during
Roux and Cesar’s little battle for the chair.”
At the
mention of the chair, Roux and Cesar glared at each other, determined
that they would be the first out of the room to find the Lady
Covington.
“And Brasco.” Dean announced, throwing a
newspaper down on the table.
“What the f--k?” Duke spun
around to see his drinking buddy gone. “S--t, the bastard
never
even said goodbye. Well” the journalist waved his hand,
cigarette
ash falling all around, “Jesus, see if I give a s--t. Never
much
liked the sonofabitch anyway. Hell, what does a man have to do around
here for a decent scotch?”
Sparrow had made his way to
Dean’s table, gripping two tankards of ale. He slid in
clumsily
across from the book collector, sitting one down in front of Dean,
sipping from the second tankard himself. As he brought the tankard
down to the table, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, then propped
an elbow on the table, pointing a finger.
“May I be privy
to how young Brasco and that whip of a boy, escaped the confines of
the room?” The Captain asked, determined to find out the
secret of
freedom.
“He’s back in the news. The trial started. So
his name is headline news again.” He pushed the paper, The
Owensboro Messenger, towards the pirate. It had been
tucked among the
new book delivery. On the front was a picture of a Mafia kingpin, who
had been taken down by the undercover cop some years before.
“
Depp must be reading about it. He remembers him. His memory takes you
out of the room. He won’t be gone long.” Dean lit
another
cigarette and went back to one of the many books that lay open on the
table.
“And the boy?” Sparrow inquired. “How
does he
come by being able to come and go as he pleases?”
Dean
shrugged.
“If I may be so bold?” Ichabod stepped
cautiously to the center of the room, a finger pointing upward to try
to gain anyone’s attention. “I have a theory,
bare-thin as it may
be.”
The room waited for him to continue. Crane cleared his
throat before beginning.
“I believe that Mr. Noodlemantra
will be able to come and go as Mr. Depp reads his selected books.
When he finishes a book, he will bring it to Dean. The more books he
reads, the more I have concluded that we will see Mr.
Noodlemantra.”
He stood waiting for a response.
“S--t. What the
hell?”
All heads turned towards Dean who sat at the table,
holding another book in his hand, as he read the spine.
“Why in
the hell did the kid bring this in? What the hell will I do with a
book on knitting?”
At the word knitting, Bon Bon spun
around, a look of surprise crossing ‘her’ face. She
crossed the
room, hips swaying, boa swinging until the she-male reached
Dean’s
side. Gently she coaxed the book from his hands.
“I believe
that is mine.”
Dean did not let go of the tome.
“How
can it be yours? No one can have things sent in here.”
BonBon
pouted. “I don’t know what you are talking about.
All I know is
that my friend Erin has sent it to me.”
BonBon managed to
wrestle the book from Dean and slowly walked back to her place,
flipping through the pages, wondering what wonderful creation she
could make.
If only she had some yarn.