On Your Mark

(Gairid)

8 octobre, 2003

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

The French doors were open, and from the street came the normal sounds of traffic and excited tourists.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

A loud one, that. Across the hall Brian’s rapid clicking on the computer keyboard paused.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

From the office I heard the chair rolling back and Brian muttering, "...the fuck is going on now..."

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"What is it, love?" Louis asked me. He was curled in my lap and I'd upset his balance slightly by shifting forward. He slid an arm up my back and took a firm grip on my shoulder so as not to be dislodged.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"That." I growled.

Louis wore a faintly puzzled expression that I found especially endearing.

"Just someone on the street." he said indifferently. I leaned back again, caught by the gleam in his eyes. I was on the verge of dismissing the annoyance when:

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

The offending voice cut through the normal nightly sounds. Whoever it was had a voice with a particularly vexing note to it that went through my head like a nail.

"Brian!" I snapped loudly. "Who is that?"

"Some dipshit standing across the street." Brian called. He, too, sounded aggravated.

"Come in here. I don’t need you shouting as well."

"Dipshit?" Louis said, startled into laughter. He slithered from my grasp, lying back so that his bare feet were in my lap.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"I heard it that time." Louis remarked, digging his toes into my thigh. Brian came in, brow furrowed ferociously, and started to the balcony.

"Why is he saying that?" I demanded.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

Brian looked over at us and his frown eased considerably when he caught sight of Louis, looking particularly fetching with his hair spread out on the watered silk of the divan.

"Brian?"

Brian blinked.

"Yes?"

"Why is he SAYING THAT?"

Brian turned back to the balcony to go out and look when the shout came again.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"God." Brian muttered. "Only dogs should be able to hear that."

"We don’t have a dog." Louis said, non-sequiturially He had used his long toes to pull my shirt from the waistband of my trousers and was attempting to insinuate his foot into my pants.

"Lestat?" Louis said.

"Chaton?" I said by way of answer. I ran my hand over his knee. How on earth could he block out that racket?

"Unbutton, if you please. Your pants are snug, darling."

And then, again, from the street, "On your mark...get set...GO!"

"Brian." I snarled warningly.

Brian was on the balcony, pushing the ferns aside.

"He’s saying it every time a car goes by." Brian said. "I think."

Louis dug into my stomach with his toes.

"Unbutton…?"

I did.

"Is he drunk?"

Brian turned to look back in at me.

"I don’t know." he said, exasperated. "Maybe. Probably."

"Tell him to go away." Louis said with the confident air of one who has solved a difficult problem.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"Shut UP!" A veritable harridan’s shriek from across the street.

"Mrs. Bracchi." Brian reported, unnecessarily.

"I’ll kill them both." I muttered.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"I’m calling the COPS!" screamed Mrs. Bracchi.

"Close the door." Louis suggested.

"I shouldn’t have to close the door." I said petulantly.

"Hey!" Brian called. "Hey, you. Whyn’t you go over to Decatur? There’s more traffic over there."

"You can’t kill her." Louis said pragmatically. "You’d be the first suspect."

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"That’s IT!" shrieked Mrs. Bracchi.

"Me and everyone else who lives within earshot of her." I mumbled.

Louis’ toes made inroads down my trousers and his insistence went a good way toward turning my attention away from the racket.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

Someone else hollered down to the shouter to throw himself in front of the next truck. A horn blared and the rhythmic clip clop of one of the mule-drawn carriages was interrupted with a rattle of hooves and the indignant braying of the mule.

"That’s Clarence." Brian said, referring to the mule. He was leaning forward interestedly. "Didier’s pissed. Might be he’ll settle the problem."

"You want to go look, don’t you, ‘Stat?" Louis said with amused affection. He extricated his foot and stood up, extending his hand.

"Didier’s old." I said, approaching with Louis. "He might get hurt…"

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"What’s WRONG wit’ you?" Didier shouted just as Louis and I reached the railing and looked down. Didier’s passengers did not look at all put out…rather they seemed to be enjoying the confrontation. "Got no sense, you, shoutin’ at Clarence. Gonna t’ump you, me."

The shouter ignored all of this, calling out again as a car came up upon the back of Didier’s colorful carriage.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"Didier!" Brian called. "Go on, man. Cops’ll be here any minute."

Didier craned around and when he spied Louis and myself his dark face went smoothly blank for a moment. He gave us a polite nod as he swung back up to his seat.

" Merci, Brian. Bon soir, messiuers." Didier said. With a final glare at the shouter, he touched Clarence’s flank with his whip and the carriage lurched into motion. The passengers both stared up at us and Louis waved grandly at them as the carriage moved down the street.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

The line of cars that had been waiting for the carriage to move began rolling slowly down the street like ducklings behind their mother.

"You!" I called imperiously.

The man paid no attention, eagerly eyeing the cars that progressed slowly past him.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

Each repetition was said with crisp triumph and in that same, high-pitched voice. I took a step back intending to spring from the balcony. Both Brian and Louis laid hands on me.

"Wait and see, Lestat." Louis said serenely. He moved behind me and put his arms around my waist. As if on cue there came the tweet and whoot of a police siren pushing its way through the traffic.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

Our neighbors up and down the street were all looking out at the commotion, some bringing evening cocktails out on to balconies, others leaning from open casements to watch the tumult. Everything in New Orleans is fair game for entertainment. Mrs. Bracchi, who lives diagonally across from us, emerged from her front door and stamped toward the shouter.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"Stop that!" Mrs. Bracchi said. Her face had gone an alarming shade of puce. Even Brian noticed it.

"One of these days she’ll drop dead from a heart attack." Brian said conversationally. He watched Mrs. Bracchi with a speculative gleam in his eye.

"We called it apoplexy." Louis said.

"Apoplectic." I agreed, looking down at Mrs. Bracchi "Her blood pressure is through the roof."

The shouter paid her absolutely no notice…much as the cars paid no notice of the police car inching its way down the street. It was still nearly two blocks up.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"Do you recognize him?" Brian said, squinting at the shouter and then looking at me.

I glanced down.

"No. Should I?"

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

Louis slid his hands down my hips and looked over my shoulder.

"Should he?" Louis echoed, turning to look at Brian curiously.

Brian shrugged.

"He kinda looks like that guy who came to the door a few months back." he said, grinning slyly. "You answered the door wearing that sarong thing and invited him in for coffee."

"Coffee." Louis said. "I remember that. I don’t think it’s the same man, Brian."

"I didn’t make coffee for anyone." I protested.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"I made the coffee." Brian said.

"That man was a courier." Louis said into my ear. "Papers for you to sign."

I remembered suddenly.

"Oh…yes. Well…that man did look a little askance at me. It was you who started him babbling, mon ange."

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"Are you crazy!" Mrs. Bracchi’s screech made Louis wince.

"Nothing like someone pointing out the obvious." Brian observed. I wasn’t sure if he was referring to me or to Mrs. Bracchi.

"Nonsense." Louis said. "I was fully dressed and on my way out until I saw you wearing that."

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"And that was what started the guy babbling." Brian said with firm conviction. "When Louis melted like butter all over you."

"You have developed quite the turn of phrase." I said to Brian. There was no acid to my words, though, for the entire scene had become brilliant in my mind. Louis nuzzled the back of my neck.

"You sure that’s not him?" Brian asked, ignoring my jibe.

"It’s not." Louis stated.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

The scene below was beginning to resemble the circus that is usually found over on Bourbon Street. Tourists snapped pictures of the shouter and of Mrs. Bracchi. The shouter was dressed in peacock tones of turquoise and green and yellow, with a multitude of scarves fastened to his arms and round his neck. Mrs. Bracchi wore one of her standard brilliant caftans, this one in hues of flaming scarlet and orange.

"The tourists think it’s street theater." Brian chuckled. "And here comes Harry with his awful dog. This should be good."

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

"It is street theater." I said. "She’ll eat Harry alive in the state she’s in."

"Watch out, Harry!" someone called from under our balcony. "Mrs. B.’s on a roll!" There was general laughter from the locals at this sally. Everyone on our block knows Mrs. Bracchi.

"Pipe down, you old queen!" Harry retorted.

"Is *everyone* here homosexual?" asked a woman in a voluminous red dress to no one in particular.

"Damn near, thank God!" came the voice from beneath the balcony. It sounded like the guy who lived over the Community Coffee down the block.

"On your mark…get set…GO!"

Mrs. Bracchi furiously raised her hand to strike the shouter but Harry grabbed her wrist just in time. The shouter was oblivious.

"You let go of me, Harry!" Mrs. Bracchi snarled. Before Harry could say anything there was another tweet-whoot from the squad car. It had made a stately progression to the intersection of Ursulines. The passenger side door opened and Fred Dufrene unfolded his gangly frame from within.

"On your mark…get set…GO!"

Officer Dufrene began shouldering his way through the thickening crowd, now made up of people attracted to the scene by the activity.

Brian laughed.

"What?" I asked, looking down at the shouter. I noticed that each time he raised his cry he would make an elegant little gesture with his hand that caused his scarves to flutter in an attractive manner.

"Fred’s looking up here." Brian said.

"On your mark…get set…GO!"

"He thinks you are the cause of the uproar, mon Lion." Louis said, slipping his hand into my pants.

"It may come to that." I said with a gasp.

"It’ll come to *something*, I’m sure." Brian murmured.

"On your mark…get set…GO!"

"Be still, Angel." Louis said throatily.

I stopped moving against his hand. From below Harry’s awful dog began her monotonous barking, drawing a collective groan from the three of us on the balcony as well as others in the raucous crowd.

"On your mark…get set…GO!"

"What’s going on here!" Fred called up to Brian. He glanced at Louis and I repeatedly.

"Answer him, darling." Louis said evilly.

"It’s not *me*" I said, trying for indignant, but not quite hitting the mark.

"That guy…with the scarves." Brian said. "Lookin’ to start a race, I guess."

"On your mark…get set…GO!"

"Over HERE, Officer." Mrs. Bracchi said stridently. Fred Dufrene winced visibly and crossed the street. John Chaisson finally pulled the squad car up and got out, dispersing a large part of the crowd. The neighborhood denizens remained in place, however.

Louis stroked me lovingly, slow and hard. He stopped just when my legs felt as though they would give way entirely.

"Louis…" I said in a strangled voice. He withdrew his hand and hugged me tightly around the chest.

"Shhh." He said, licking my jaw affectionately. "I want to see what’s happening. All this distraction." he pushed me against the rail next to Brian.

"On your mark…get set…GO!"

Fred tried to engage to shouter in conversation to no avail. John placated Mrs. Bracchi and convinced her to go back to her house. He silenced Harry’s nattering with a withering look and told him to put the awful dog on a leash or he’d cite him for it.

"You’re not arresting him for standing there and yelling are you?" Brian asked them.

John Chaisson looked up.

"Nah. We’ll take him to the shelter. He’ll calm down when he gets there…he likes Betsy."

"You know him?" Brian asked.

"Ran into him up a few times." John said, smiling a little at Brian. "He’s harmless."

I nudged Brian with my elbow.

"I think he’s flirting with you." I said confidentially.

He pushed my elbow back with his.

"The courier smelt of garlic." Louis said reminiscently.

"The WINNER!"

Below, the two policemen went after the shouting man who’d bolted suddenly in front of a red Miata.

"He wasn’t flirting." Brian said with finality.

"I think he was." I countered.

"Garlic and dreadful cologne." Louis went on. He released his death grip of a hug and came to stand at the rail beside me.

"Look, Lestat. It’s the Winner," he said.

"Just friends." Brian insisted.

"I don’t think so."

"Who is the winner, Louis?" I asked, turning to look at him after tossing a final smirk at Brian. He exhaled strongly through his nose.

"The WINNER! THE WINNER!" cried the man, waving his scarves grandly. John Chaisson got a firm grip on the man’s upper arm and steered him to the squad car. Fred took the man’s other arm and together they managed to deposit him into the back seat of the car. "The WINNER!" The man cried joyfully.

"God. Look at that." Brian said, snorting laughter.

"It’s your special friend." Louis said.

"I think he’s flirting with you." Brian added, helpfully.

Someone had gotten out of the red car and stood looking up at the three of us ranged on the balcony.

"You were right, Louis." I said. "We should have just closed the doors." I said.

Gerry Blancmange waved up at us and held aloft a large, yellow envelope.

"Brian, maybe you should go and collect the envelope. There’s been enough excitement down there this evening."

"Besides…the cops are *right* there." I said, darkly.

"Flirting." Brian said.

"We’ll be in the bedroom." I said pointedly.

"On your mark, get set...go!" Brian said.

FIN

10 octobre, 2003