Solitaire
They can hear talking outside, and then the inevitable tap on the door. Lavinia sucks up the tension in one elongated in-breath and expels as much fear as she can.
“Come in, Ignatius.”
He hesitates just long enough for Lavinia to note she has wrong-footed him. Then he is there, larger than life; his immense frame occupies the entire doorway, eclipsing the evening sun.
Ignatius scrutinises them without a word. Simone has put on a little meat, but still striking. Dangerous and unpredictable, she quickens him when all the others left him jaded and ill-tempered. He feels a twinge of arousal.
Lavinia knows her effect on men, especially him. She tilts her head and looks up at him: “Can’t take no for an answer, Ignatius?”
This stings, but his poker face is up to it. The other woman is fat and stupid looking. There is a white girl sitting in the corner playing cards. He gawps at her as if he’s stumbled upon a creature of myth, until Lavinia deliberately distracts him with the offer of a drink.
“Yes. Thank you, Lavinia.”
She pours the three of them a cup of rum and hands one to him. Lavinia notices he waits until they have taken a sip before he does.
“What brings you all the way up here, Ignatius?”
He puts his cup down and walks over to the girl. He places his enormous hand on her head of hair. Lavinia’s blood runs cold.
“What are you playing?”
“Solitaire,” responds Simone without looking up.
“Solitaire, eh. And where did you get the cards, sweetheart?”
“They’re Aunt Livy’s.” Simone sidesteps Ignatius’ trap. She is a natural. “But she doesn’t play with them anymore.”
Ignatius leans down and whispers in her ear: “Well, perhaps I could persuade her…May I?”
“OK.”
Simone gathers the cards together and presses them into a neat pack before placing them into his oversized hand as the two women look on in silence.
“Thank you.”
He walks over to Lavinia and presents them to her.
“I would very much like you to read for me.”
“I don’t do that anymore. I don’t—”
Ignatius puts his forefinger to her lips.
“I want you to tell me what’s going to happen next.”
Lavinia and Yanette look at each other.
“I can’t—”
Ignatius slams his hand on the pack of cards.
“I insist.”
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