Chapter Seven
Both partners must agree to cut,
The bond that makes them mates,
The wife refused to call caput,
Left him in dire straits.
Lyrics from the folk song “Crossroads Coyote”
Clementine knocked on the door of apartment 2B.
She’d tried to find out the name of the musically-talented kid who lived next door to Bill, but the “dangerous, male coyote” hadn’t identified himself on his mailbox slot downstairs. Clem had officially moved in with Bill the night before, which made this mysterious kid her new neighbor. It only seemed neighborly to stop over and say hi.
And to ask him about his fiddle playing.
Time ticked by and no one answered, so she knocked again. It was nine in the morning, but the heat was already unbearable. She was worried about Bill, off building that railroad in the blistering sun. It wasn’t healthy for him.
She turned and gazed over the decorative wooden railing of the Western Arms Apartments, while she waited for her neighbor to realize that she wasn’t going away until she talked to him. Her new home was constructed in a U-shape. The second-floor apartments were accessed by a long balcony and all the front doors opened onto a central courtyard.
The cement of the courtyard was cracked and the pool was half-filled with green water, but she could envision how it had looked fifty years before, when the adobe building was new. With some upkeep, it could be a nice complex again. Fix the pool… Maybe paint murals on the walls to cover the mishmash of clay colors… Patch the holes in the wooden steps… They should have some kind of tenants’ meeting to discuss all the improvements they could make and fun activities they could have.
There was a clubhouse space downstairs that mostly seemed deserted. Just a pinball machine tipped on its side and some wobbly folding chairs. If they shooed the nests of scorpions out of the corners, they could have potluck and movie nights. It would be nice for Bill to meet new people.
The door to 2B finally creaked open, just as far as the security chain would allow.
Clementine’s attention snapped around to grin at her neighbor. “Hi!”
The teenage boy peering out at her had extraordinary hair. That was the first thing she noticed. A shoulder-length mass of silvery-white, mixed with threads of onyx-black. It was so much lighter than the golden-tan color of his skin. It looked almost magical. She’d never seen anyone else with hair like that. It could be a huge asset to him, as a fiddle player. Really help him stand out of the crowd at auditions.
He didn’t respond to her cheerful salutation. Instead, he just stared at her with distrustful, pale-brown eyes. Yes, definitely one of Bill’s brethren. Coyotes were an attractive, suspicious, unloquacious group.
“Clementine Miner.” She squiggled her palm into the three-inch opening between the door and the jamb. “Great to meet you.”
He didn’t shake her hand. “You shouldn’t be here.” He said in a colossally unwelcoming tone. “What do you want?”
“I wanted to meet you. I heard you were living here by yourself.” He really was very young. She pegged him at no more than sixteen. Clem gave him a compassionate look. “I lost my parents, when I was about your age. It’s so difficult to be alone.”
“Does the hardass know you’re here?”
“Who?”
“The coyote next door who scares the shit out of everyone. You have his scent all over you.”
She pulled her hand away. “I do?” She gave her fingers a surreptitious sniff and didn’t smell anything unusual. She lacked shifter senses, though. “I guess that’s because I’m his new roommate.” She pointed towards 2C. “Once you get to know Bill, he’s not at all scary.”
“Room mate .” The kid repeated, stressing the second syllable. “That’s what he’s calling it?”
“Well, I’m also his manager. Bill’s a musician.” She beamed. “Just like you.”
The boy didn’t take a hint and pick up that perfect segue. “Does he know you’re here?” He asked again.
“Of course he does.”
The kid regarded her silently.
Clementine relented, because those odd eyes were seeing right through her. “Does Bill know I’m here right this second? Not exactly. But he knew I’d come see you eventually.”
“Doubt it, since I’m still alive.”
Her eyebrows compressed. So many people seemed to have an issue with Bill, for no reason at all. It was very strange. “Bill isn’t dangerous. He just stays to himself, because he’s like you.”
The kid shook his head emphatically. “No, he’s not.”
“Sure he is! Bill is a little shy, and wary of strangers, and used to being misjudged.”
“Shy.” The boy repeated.
“Yes. He’s extremely sensitive. Most artists are. If you get to know him, you’ll see how wonderful he is.” Clementine spotted another opening. “I’d love it if he could make some new friends, actually. People who share his musical gift.” And the kid obviously needed someone looking out for him. From what she could see of him through the narrow opening of the door, he was far too thin. “Maybe you could come for dinner sometime.”
“I’m busy.”
“I didn’t even suggest a day, yet.”
“Whenever it is, I’m busy. And you shouldn’t be here.”
“Why not?”
“You just shouldn’t. Especially wearing what you’re wearing. Your ‘roommate’ won’t like it.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” She had plans to go chasing after Bill later and she needed to look her best. “Do you think he’ll hate this outfit?”
Sadly, enticing stubborn roommates didn’t come naturally to Clem. She’d spent too many years deliberately trying not to attract male attention. She’d wasted an hour picking out “I’m the girl you want to marry” clothes, but she wasn’t sure she’d quite achieved her goal.
She wrinkled her nose, plagued with self-doubt. “Do you think this skirt would look better with sandals?” She had an expensive pair of Herring Box heels in her closet that she only wore on special occasions. Chasing a cowboy qualified, right? “Maybe I should switch to sandals.”
One silvery brow rose a fraction of an inch. “Lady, no one’s gonna be looking at your shoes.”
“Oh, Bill will. He’s very observant.” She paused for a beat. “At least I hope he is.” She could use a male perspective on her developing feelings for Bill. This kid was a far better choice than her brothers. “Can you keep a secret?”
“No.”
“Oh, it’s not a big secret. I just…” she blushed, “I like Bill. You know? I want him to figure that out, but I don’t want to scare him off in the process.”
“‘Cause he’s so shy.” The kid recalled in a grave tone.
“Right! I have to entice him. That’s why I’m a little dressed up today. I’m hoping to nudge him into noticing me, in a gentle kinda way.”
“The ‘nudge’ he feels won’t be gentle. Pretty sure.”
She opened her mouth to ask what he honestly thought of her shoes, but the kid kept talking.
“You’re not what I thought you’d be.”
Clem blinked. “You thought I’d be something?”
“I figured you’d be like every other girl I ever saw hooked up with a coyote. But most of them already know it’s a shit idea. They just do it anyhow, for money, or thrills, or because they don’t have nothin’ better.” He slowly shook his head. “But you don’t know any of that, do ya?”
Clementine was flummoxed for a response.
The kid sighed. “You really shouldn’t be here.” He reiterated in a slightly less guarded way. “Not near any of our kind. Coyotes don’t have women of our own for a reason: Because we don’t deserve them.”
“That’s just not true. Everyone deserves love.”
The boy returned to his first question. For someone who didn’t seem thrilled with discussions, he sure was good at dominating them. “What do you want, lady?”
Clementine decided to be more direct. “I heard you playing the fiddle through the wall and you need a better bow. Yours lacks flexibility. That affects the quality of your sound.”
It was the kid’s turn to blink.
She pushed a little harder. “Have you considered upgrading your bow? Because you really should upgrade.”
“Are you selling violin bows door-to-door? That it?” A lot of his snarky, defensive comments were disguised as questions. It made conversation difficult.
“No, but someone should sell you one. It’ll make a world of difference to your playing, …um….” She trailed off awkwardly, because she’d been about to call him by name, but she didn’t know his name. “You never introduced yourself, by the way.”
He ignored the prompting. “So you want me to get a new bow?”
“For starters, yes. But you also need professional training. Don’t listen to any charlatans around this town, either, who promise to lend you money for lessons for a cut of your future earnings.” She rolled her eyes. “Red River Valley is filled with swindlers.”
“Maybe I’ll fit in good, then. Maybe I am one.”
She looked into his face and liked what she saw. “No.” She shook her head. “I’ve been dealing with sleazy music people all my life and you’re not one of them.”
The kid’s jaw tightened.
“So about your professional training?” Clem persisted. “I think an academic setting would be best. You’re so young and there’s a classical nuance to your music. You should be working to craft it and find your voice as an artist. Have you applied to any colleges?”
“I dropped out of high school.”
“Well, you’ll have to restart it then and graduate as soon as possible. We need to get your music conservatory applications in. The Westland’s Performing Art Academy is the most prestigious, of course…”
He cut her off, his silvery eyebrows slamming down like he suspected she was making fun of him. “No place called an ‘academy’ is gonna let in a damn coyote.”
“Of course they’ll let you in! You have an incredible natural talent. The Westlands Performing Arts Academy will hear it, just like I do.” Clementine would make sure of it. She was really excelling at assertiveness. “Backup schools will obviously be a wise idea, just in case. But Westlands should be your goal. I can help you with the applications.”
The boy looked more suspicious by the second. “What do you actually want?” He challenged, apparently convinced she was up to something nefarious.
“To encourage you about your musical career. You have such a bright future!”
He shut the door in her face.
Clementine’s forehead compressed. Was she doing this all wrong? Did other muses have so much trouble getting artists to admit they were artists? Was she too ambitious in targeting people who didn’t want to be inspired?
She started knocking again, refusing to give up on someone who obviously needed more encouragement.
“Where is he?” A naga with a handlebar mustache came slithering up the steps and onto the wooden walkway. The top part of his body was a potbellied, human torso. The bottom half was a long coil of diamond-patterned serpent. “I thought I heard the little bastard’s voice.”
Clementine turned to frown at the snake-man. “I was just…”
He cut her off. “You Luke’s girlfriend? Because he owes me rent.” Cold eyes ran all over her body, centering in on her breasts. “Maybe he’s been spending all his money on you, huh?”
Clem made a face. This must be “Woody the scumbag landlord” Bill didn’t want her talking to alone. Wonderful. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide his view. “I’m not Luke’s girlfriend. I didn’t even know his name was Luke.”
“Luke Widowmaker. Or Widowmaker Luke, I suppose.” He mocked the coyotes’ preferred naming order in a sing-song voice. “Weird damn coyote customs. Shouldn’t be allowed.”
“Why not?” Bill had explained coyote naming traditions to her and they were fairly simple. The children kept their mother’s name and their last name was listed first. Just two tiny rules! “I think we should all make an effort to respect other species. Coyotes have a right to…”
Woody talked right over her. “Whatever he calls himself, you’ll be seeing his pictures on a wanted poster one day. Kid’s a punk.” He glided towards the apartment door. “So, is he in there?” He hammered a fist against the wood, the blows vibrating through the whole building. “You in there, boy?”
“I just knocked and he’s not answering.” Clem volunteered, automatically trying to protect Luke.
A landlord needed to collect rent, in order to pay his own bills. She got that. But Woody already seemed like a bully, and she’d only known him for thirty seconds.
“He’s ignoring you, probably.” Woody muttered, trying to peer through the tightly drawn curtains and into the apartment.
“He might not be home.” Clem argued.
Not a lie. Luke might have climbed out a window. He might have been abducted by aliens, at just this very moment. Not likely, but theoretically possible.
Woody scowled. “The scrawny prick’s been dodging me for weeks. It won’t do him any good, though. No one evades Woody Shakes forever!” He raised his voice for that last part, like he suspected Luke might be listening. “He still owes me for last month’s rent and this month’s is past due. If I don’t get all my money by Tuesday, he’s out on his ass!”
“He’s just a kid.”
“He’s a kid who’s about to be homeless.” Woody arched a protruding brow in her direction. “Unless you’d like to make a deal for him, huh? Help the boy pay-down some debt, without spending any of his hard-earned gold.” His gaze slithered over her body again. “We can talk about it in my private office.”
Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “I’ll pass.”
Woody wasn’t deterred by her disgusted tone. “Or if you’re looking for a place of your own to rent, I can let you have a real special deal.” His forked tongue flicked out of his mouth in a suggestive wriggle.
Clementine resisted the urge to punch him. “I already have an apartment.” She gestured towards 2C. “I live with Pecos Bill.”
He hesitated, his lascivious expression fading. “ You’re the one that coyote moved in?”
“Yes.”
“Holy shit.” Woody blurted out. “When he steals himself a woman, he goes all out, don’t he?”
“He didn’t steal me. We’re roommates.” She didn’t want to touch the icky man, so she didn’t bother to extend her hand for a formal introduction. “I’m Clementine Miner.”
“Right.” He edged backwards, like she suddenly made him nervous. “Bill came by to tell me you were moving in. Made sure I knew who you belonged to, in --like-- a really intense way. He’s a hardass.”
When Luke called Bill a hardass, she tried to allay his concerns. When Woody called Bill a hardass, she nodded in firm agreement. “He really is.” She fibbed without even blushing. Bill’s unfair reputation seemed to be deflating the man’s sleazy ardor.
Woody’s reptilian eyes darted around, suspecting Bill was lurking in the shadows, waiting to bushwhack him. “You guys are… close, huh?”
“ Really close. We would do anything for each other.” Hopefully, Bill didn’t mind her casting him in the role of a scary, protective force, standing between her and slimy landlords. “Best, best friends.”
“Riiiiiight.” Woody said again, more meaningfully this time.
At another point in Clementine’s life, she would have cringed at the leering implication of his tone. So many people assumed muses slept with so many people . It colored how she was perceived and made her want to prove everyone wrong.
She’d been humiliated by the constant come-ons when she was younger. Boys in her classes who’d thought she’d have sex with anybody, just because of her species and bra size. If she went out with one, the evening would result in an argument. He’d realize that she was far more inhibited than the muses portrayed in porno films, and he’d stomp off in a huff. A few times, she’d had to threaten her dates with her big brothers to get free of their groping hands.
That was a huge reason why she’d started her relationship with Johnny. Even when she’d briefly been his girlfriend, he wasn’t disappointed that she was too apprehensive for sex. He cared far more about music. In fact, he’d seem downright mortified when he’d seen her in her sleeveless prom dress. Clem had thought it was pretty, but he’d insisted that muses’ bodies were just “too extravagant” to show that much skin. As a result, Clem had kept her wrap around her for the whole dance.
That part had been a huge mistake.
Clementine had started growing more comfortable with herself around the time Bill arrived. She felt better about her taste in clothes, because Bill always said she looked so nice. She could talk to men and not worry that they were only interested in getting her into bed, because Bill was sure fascinated with what she had to say. She began to think that the stereotypes about muses weren’t really that big a deal, because Bill never once mentioned them.
From there, her confidence had soared.
Now, for the first time in her life, Clementine was considering sex as a Good thing. Not something to hide from, but something to seek out. She’d blossomed into an assertive woman, who knew what she wanted and was unashamed to go get it.
Woody’s sneering assumption that she was sleeping with Bill meant exactly nothing to her. Who cared what he thought?
Besides, she was going to sleep with Bill. She was going to use all the muse-y attributes that she’d previously suppressed to entice Bill into her bed, because they were going to be a couple. She’d decided on Bill, and she’d make their relationship happen.
“Well,” Woody’s voice became customer-service polite, now that he assumed she was dating a hardass coyote, “it was a real pleasure to meet you, Miss Miner. You let me know if you need anything, ya hear? Anything at all.”
“Actually, there is something. The sink in the bathroom is leaking. Under the vanity. And the cabinet doesn’t actually have a back, so…”
“The cabinets here are all custom.” Woody interjected swiftly. “Custom cabinets don’t have backs.”
“That’s… not how that works.” Clementine shook her head, because she watched enough home decorating shows to know that wasn’t at all how that worked.
“They’re Wonderland custom cabinets, is what I meant. Wonderland custom cabinets don’t have backs.”
Considering Wonderland was so weird, Woody’s revised claim did have a shred more credibility, but still not much. “The point is: The water is getting right on the drywall. It’s becoming saturated. Given the thinness of the walls here, it’ll eventually soak through to that apartment.” She gestured towards Luke’s door. “Repairing the leak now will save you a lot of time, money, and mold mitigation.”
“Sure.” Woody edged towards the stairs. “I’ll get right on that. Happy to help. The Westward Arms is one big family, after all. Uh… Tell Bill I said so, okay?” He paused. “Actually, you don’t have to tell him that. Or anything . Because nothing happened and there’s no sense in dragging him into something when it didn’t even happen.”
He went sidewinding down the steps, thrilled to get away from her.
Clementine rolled her eyes. Well, that was an off-putting conversation. And confusing. And it ruined her morning plans for Luke.
She couldn’t go back to knocking on his door, just in case Woody was lying in wait, trying to catch the kid at home. Also, Luke hadn’t seemed eager to chat, what with slamming the door in her face and all. Maybe it was better to step back and regroup. Come at the problem from a new direction.
The boy was stubborn. It seemed to be a coyote trait. He probably wouldn’t listen to her advice about his playing, until she proved to him that she was right. Since she was right, that shouldn’t be hard to prove.
Dinah had a whole storeroom full of old instruments, down at The Kitchen. Surely, she had a fiddle bow that she could lend to Clem on a permanent basis. Then Clem might leave it right by Luke’s door, where he might grudgingly give it a try. If he did it his own way, he’d be more receptive to the idea.
Clementine had something to give Bill, too. Something he could hopefully use to help with his own musical career. And if she enticed him a little bit, in the process, so much the better.
Clem was a natural at managing things. The sooner the artists in her life realized that the better off they’d be. Her new plans set, Clementine headed back into her own apartment, seriously rethinking her shoes.