Jaqueline Campos
57
A Retelling of the Porter
back, but I didn’t want to seem like an ungrateful wimp either; especially not when Rip was sipping gin like juice. After all, she did manage to create the best night of my life without any reason to at all. She had to be one of those people, the ones who open doors and walk old ladies across the street. Cat was not as toasted as the rest of us, but I’d say she was still a little rough around the edges. TJ had Catrina and Portia hunched over in laughter when Robert, Misty’s assistant, arrived at the table. “What is it?” Misty grilled him. “You have visitors who would like to speak with you,” he notified her with adverted eyes. “Are they important?” she snapped in clear agitation. “Well, that depends…” he dawdled. “Your incompetence astounds me. What could it possibly depend on? You’re fired, Robert, and if I ever see your slimy face around here, by God, I’ll—” Misty’s raged was quieted by an unexpected voice in the conversation. “By God is right, Miss,” said a man in robes who calmly approached the table followed by two others of similar garb. “God sent us here tonight. I do not know why, but I know that this is where he wants me to be tonight. Perhaps for good luck,” he mused. Everyone around the table sat in a confused silence and waited for Misty act. “Well, Father,” she looked as stunned for words as the rest of us, “Of course you can stay.” “What’s a party without a priest,” supplied Portia. “Yes, we have only one rule,” said Misty with more composure. Her quick wink toward Catrina made me guess at what it might be. “Please, stay and enjoy a few drinks on us, listen to our music, and dance with our ladies. But should you be curious of anything that doesn’t concern you, we ask only that you keep your righteous noses out of it.” I watched their expressions to see how they might react to Misty’s words. “Your secrets are safe with me and God,” he replied in an unsurprised manner. The booth squished tighter and overflowed to a few of the seats around the table. More liquor was brought along with seltzer for the priest. “Sorry, we’re out of holy water,” teased Portia who now sat on Joey’s lap. Laughter ensued. “That’s quite alright,” he assured her. Cat and I began speaking to one of the newcomers who welcomed his share of alcohol like an old friend, but still seemed uneasy. “My name is Jeff,” he offered with little enthusiasm, “and I have no clue why I am here.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his misfortune and wonder how he came to be at a nightclub with a priest. Misty stared pointedly at Catrina during his exchange. I gently nudged her