by Anna Martin
The people at Lumiere—the people of New Orleans—stuck out. They felt different. They made him feel like a person again. Joe hadn’t decided if he hated it or if he was starting to fall in love. But one thing he was sure of: he didn’t like Sal’s tone or the way he dismissed people as trash to rid himself of—as if it was his choice to make. The guy was a dickhead.
“Good. I’m glad you think so. I’ll talk to my dad again this weekend. Don’t show up at Sunday dinner again. I need to finish working on him, and I can’t do it if you’re there.”
“My presence is that offensive?”
“Of course not.” Sal chuckled. “Dad sees you as a good guy, which is a great thing. But we don’t want to get too close. I obviously can’t talk to him about your company in front of you.”
“It’s not my company. I’m just a developer,” Joe reminded him.
“We know that. Of course. It’s just that for Dad, you’re the face of the company. You’re the one he sees. It’s good that he likes you. It’ll make him feel more comfortable about selling to you.”
“And Remy?”
Sal rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to get him to agree. I don’t care how many times you’ve slept with him, Remy will always be Remy. He does what he wants, and he thinks about himself and his perfect little ideals. He’s a lost cause.”
Joe had always figured if the deal went through, he’d lose whatever he’d started with Remy. That was just a part of it. So why did it hurt when Sal said that?
He didn’t want to examine the possible reasons.
Instead of letting Sal pay for some ridiculously overpriced steak, Joe left and went back to his rental. He was supposed to cook one of the only meals he knew how to make that night for Remy after Remy’s shift at the restaurant was over. If cooking for a chef wasn’t enough pressure, he still felt the hard, thick unease every time he thought of that meeting with Sal.
Most of the Babineaux family felt warm and encompassing. Even Grace, who for obvious reasons was reluctant to like him. Joe understood that. But he didn’t get a good vibe from Sal. He hadn’t from their first meeting, and he didn’t still. Even if Sal could be the one who made his plans finally go through. Even if Sal, on the surface, saw things exactly the way he did. Joe still felt it deep in his belly. It wasn’t right. He just wished he had all the details. He thought maybe he should talk to Tom about it. Or Remy. But then he thought about calling Howard and telling him the deal fell through.
And that was enough to keep him quiet.
Joe stopped at the little corner store where he always went for bottles of water and fresh fruit. It wasn’t as good as the farmers’ market, but it was close to his apartment, and he was always a big fan of convenience. The store was tiny and cramped, packed with shelving and displays of fruits and vegetables. He remembered thinking the place smelled a little funny when he’d first gotten there, but like the rest of the city, he’d gotten used to it. He didn’t notice the smell anymore. Even waved at the cashier when he walked in. He was picking through a pile of oranges when he noticed someone staring at him.
“Hi, Joe?”
Remy’s friend…. Shawn. He’d met both of Remy’s best friends a few times at the bar. He’d usually been buzzed, and they hadn’t said all that much to each other, but he knew them on sight. This one was definitely Shawn. Shorter than the other, fair skin, sandy hair, a little bitchy. Remy had talked about him and Bryce enough that Joe could tell them apart. And this one kept giving him suspicious eyes.
“Hey, Shawn. Having a good day?”
“Sure thing. How ’bout you?”
Joe just shrugged. He figured Remy’s friends didn’t trust him, and he completely understood why. He wouldn’t trust him either if he were them. “I’m cooking dinner for Remy. Just grabbing a few ingredients.”
“Really?”
Joe tried to smile casually. “Yeah.” He forced a laugh. “It’s not going to be much, you know. I’m not Remy. But I figured I’d show him my best recipe, and maybe he won’t hate it.”
Too much talking. Quit talking, he’ll know you’re nervous. Shawn struck Joe as someone who could smell blood in the water. Joe wasn’t in the mood to be attacked.
Shawn nodded and gave him a pensive look. “You know, Remy’s seemed different lately.”
And there’s the attack. Joe was slightly taken aback. He wasn’t used to people being so… blunt in the world he came from. It was all talking in circles and saying what the other person wanted to hear while getting exactly what he wanted. It wasn’t the Southern way, either, or at least what Joe had learned of it—insults hidden in sweetness, thorns under the sugar. In a way Shawn was refreshing. Or he would be if Joe didn’t sense a huge shark bite coming his way.
“Yeah?” he asked. He wasn’t sweating it. Not at all.
“Happier, I think. He’s spent so many years working on Lumiere, he’s never given himself much of a chance to find someone. From what I’ve seen, he’s having a lot of fun with you.” There was an unspoken part to that sentence. He’s having a lot of fun with you, and he could have more if you don’t fuck it up by buying Lumiere out from under him. Shawn wasn’t subtle about the innuendo. He even raised his eyebrows in case his point wasn’t quite clear.
Joe felt a twinge. Harder than the smaller ones he’d been feeling for days. He got a little nauseated and put down the orange he’d been holding.
“I like Remy a lot. He’s a great guy.” Joe couldn’t believe how nervous he was. Years in the business world playing the big bad guy, and one little cafe owner’s best friend was enough to make him sweat? It was insane. Joe tried to breathe and be himself rather than whatever the hell he’d become in the past few minutes.
“But you’re still trying to talk him into selling the love of his life,” Shawn said.
“I’m talking to Tom. And I’m considering other options. I’d love it if I could find a better one.” There wasn’t a better one. Not that he’d seen anyway, and before he’d set foot in New Orleans, Joe and his assistants back in LA had scoured the city looking for candidates. Not that it was Shawn’s business, of course.
“Good,” Shawn said. He gave Joe another long, measuring look. “You know the produce at the farmers’ market is better,” he finally added. “I’m shocked Remy hasn’t taken you there yet.”
“He has.” Joe chuckled. “More than once. It’s just a lot farther from my apartment.”
Shawn nodded. “Hey, listen. I hope to see you around more while you’re in town.” Another statement that was somehow loaded. Joe couldn’t quite figure out how. He was sure to find out eventually.
“Me too. I’d like that.” Joe smiled politely. He wasn’t sure if he meant it. Shawn appeared really laid-back on the surface, but there was something about him that terrified Joe. Maybe because underneath the relaxed charm, it was obvious that he’d tear someone limb from limb like a goddamn mako if they hurt Remy. Yeah, that was probably it.
Joe pulled a bag off the roll and started filling it with oranges. He needed to get his groceries and get out of there. He had work to do, after all. Shawn gave him a small nod and a smile and turned to finish his own shopping. Joe let out his first full breath since the conversation started.
Remy wasn’t used to playing tourist in his own hometown. Actually, he’d never done it before. Other family had come to visit, of course, and they’d been shown around, given the whole tour. But that was different. He’d always been busy back then, with school or Lumiere, or anything but hanging out with the out-of-town family. But he had Joe to romance, and part of that romance was showing Joe everything possible that he could fall in love with.
And if that included kitschy occult tours, well so be it. So after they were done with Joe’s attempt at spaghetti and meatballs (it wasn’t bad, the meatballs were a little dry and the marinara sauce had come out of a can, but he’d had worse) Remy decided to drag Joe down to St. Louis Cathedral, where a milling crowd of tourists were waiting to be creeped out. Even thou
gh he thought paranormal stuff was bullshit, he couldn’t help being romanced by the whole thing, by the darkness and the anticipation of it. That happened to Remy a lot—he’d be going about his normal day and just realize how much he loved where he lived, who he surrounded himself with. He couldn’t imagine himself anywhere but in the middle of a square waiting for a vampire tour to start. Remy grinned in the night.
“What are we doing?” Joe muttered.
Remy had been annoyingly mysterious. He’d had to hold in a laugh a few times already when Joe tried to badger an answer out of him. He’d guessed dinner, drinks, a long walk. He was a little bit right about the third one. Remy bit his lip and tried not to chuckle.
“You’ll see,” he said.
Joe made a frustrated little noise. “What are these people waiting for?”
“You’ll see,” Remy repeated.
“You know what, I’ll just ask one of them,” Joe muttered.
Remy pulled on his hand. “Don’t be like that. Just wait. You’ll find out in a minute, okay?”
Just then a man with long hair, a frilly white button-down, and a big black cloak came striding into the small crowd that had gathered. He went through his spiel about having grown up in New Orleans, and honestly Remy couldn’t tell if that was true or if the dude was just a good actor with a perfect accent. It didn’t even matter. Despite himself, Remy was entertained. It wasn’t until the guide started talking about spirits and the undead that Joe flipped Remy a suspicious look.
“What are we doing?” Joe whispered.
Remy grinned. “Vampire tour. You are in New Orleans, after all. It’s tradition.”
Joe held on to a giggle. “You took me on a touristy ghost thing?”
“Vampires. Way cooler than ghosts. Now shut up and listen.” Remy nudged Joe with his shoulder. He loved his little joke. He only hoped this tour guide was as good as he was supposed to be. If not, it was going to be a long hour and a half.
Their group wound through streets and back alleys, places Remy had known his whole life but was starting to see in a different light. He knew the whole thing had to be total tourist bullshit, but it was hard not to get sucked into the guy’s stories. They heard about brothers who had seemed normal until a girl escaped from their apartment with wrists cut shallowly so she would’ve been drained of her blood over days. When the police got to their house, they found dead bodies and others still alive, tied to chairs and bleeding. Some had been there for days. Joe wound their fingers together at one point and squeezed. He must’ve felt Remy shiver.
One of their last stops was in front of the house of some guy who supposedly was an immortal nobleman who killed prostitutes and had lavish parties where his guests wined and dined, but he only drank from his personal bottle of dark red wine. Joe slung an arm over Remy’s shoulder and pulled him close in the middle of the story.
“This guy is really good,” he whispered. “I don’t believe any of it, but I’m a little freaked out just the same.”
“No kidding. I’m sleeping at your place tonight.”
Joe kissed him softly on the cheek. “Yes, please.”
The soft little caress took Remy off guard. They didn’t do a lot of that. Mostly it was slow-growing friendship during the day and hot nights filled with skin and rough kisses and the best sex Remy had ever had. Romance, on the other hand, hadn’t really happened. Not much at least. Remy had to say he didn’t mind, though. He squeezed Joe’s hand and got a little closer. It was nice to have something, even if what they were couldn’t last and anything more could never be. All he ever did was take care of his restaurant and his family. He really appreciated having a bit of fun that was his own for as long as it lasted.
After a one more stop and a final creepy-ass story, the tour guide left them off in a tiny deserted park with only directions back to where they’d started. Even Remy, who’d roamed around the same streets since he’d been old enough to slip away from his mother’s vision, could’ve sworn he saw carnivorous stares in the dark.
“Wanna go grab a drink? Like, now?” he asked Joe. “The guys are probably at the bar, and I could sure as hell use one.”
“Yeah, definitely. I expected that to be cheesy, but I’m seriously spooked.” Remy could’ve guessed by the way Joe hadn’t let go of his hand since about halfway into the tour. Remy laughed at both of them, grown-ass men who should know better, glancing around as if fucking Lestat was going to be waiting around the next corner.
“All right. Let’s go. I know a shortcut through a few alleys, but I think I’m in the mood for the long way tonight.”
Joe laughed as well. “Yup. Long way sounds really good to me.”
* * *
The bar was loud and crowded, exactly what Remy needed. Shawn and Bryce were in their predictable spot, with Andre at the table with them. Andre gave Joe a slightly wary look, but he was polite when Joe sat down and even brought back a round for everyone. Remy was a little wary of Joe hanging out with his friends, and for sure his brother, but it wasn’t bad at all. They laughed and drank, and everyone played nice. Remy and Joe only stayed for a couple of rounds, then headed back to Joe’s apartment, suitably buzzed.
“That was a fun night,” Joe said when the door shut behind them.
Joe’s place had been perfect every time Remy went there: he’d been in town for weeks, but even after all those days, not a single thing was out of place. It was a little disconcerting to Remy, who still had to have his mother tell him to clean his room as if he were a thirteen-year-old. She came up and got his laundry regularly too. Remy decided that was perfectly normal. He didn’t want to do it himself so… yeah.
“I’m wiped out,” Remy said. All that walking and the drinks and his long day at the restaurant had him weaving on his feet.
“You want to take a shower?” Joe asked.
“No, I just took one before our walk.”
At that moment Remy realized he was seriously contemplating falling into bed with Joe to sleep.
Sleeping wasn’t the thing for sexy, short-lived affairs. It wasn’t what you did with the guy you were trying to seduce. Still, he was exhausted, and Joe’s bed was clean and cool and came with a hot guy to cuddle up with.
“I’m sorry, I’m tired,” Remy said. He barely made it through the sentence without a yawn.
“It’s cool. You had a long day. Do you want some tea?”
“Sure, that sounds good actually.” The whole scene felt incredibly domestic. Remy sat in bed while Joe puttered around in a pair of low-hanging sweats making them tea. It was one of those moments where he thought about how his life had gotten to the point where he was lounging around with a guy making tea. If you’d have asked him a few months—hell, a few weeks—ago, he’d have said no way. But there he was.
And he was actually… happy.
* * *
The next morning Joe was awake before Remy, and he vowed to let Remy catch up on his sleep instead of waking him up with a blowjob, which had been his first instinct. Remy worked long hours at the restaurant and he was often tired, evidenced by how quickly he’d collapsed into bed and fallen asleep the previous night. Joe got up and went about his morning routine—cleaning the kitchen, doing laundry, tidying up the piles of paperwork he wasn’t ready to deal with. While Remy slept, he sent a few update emails to keep Howard happy and checked in on the other projects he still had a hand in.
Before long, half the morning had disappeared.
Joe had been vaguely aware of Remy getting up and taking a shower, but when Remy came to drape himself over Joe’s back and kiss his neck, Joe snapped his laptop shut. There were more important things at hand.
“Hey, you ready?” Remy asked.
“Hmmm?” Joe hadn’t been paying attention. He seemed to do that a lot around Remy—spend more time looking at him than being even remotely involved in his surroundings, however fabulous they were supposed to be.
“I was going to take you around and show you some buildings in town.”<
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Oh yes. This was when Remy was supposed to help Joe find the perfect restaurant to buy so he wouldn’t buy Lumiere—after he’d spent days charming Joe into falling for his viewpoint. It wasn’t going to work. Okay, that wasn’t true. It had worked to a point. Joe did love Lumiere, and Stella, and he definitely saw where Remy was coming from with the whole local thing. But even if it had worked, Joe still had a job to do. If Remy could find a building better than his own, Joe would’ve found it long before he’d ever landed in New Orleans. He smiled, ready to humor Remy, get a few more hours of Southern hospitality in, and maybe a few kisses while he was at it.
“I’m ready.”
They walked. As usual. Despite the Southern predilection for driving, Remy seemed to be on his feet constantly. The quarter was more suited for walking than driving anyway. At least it was nearing October, and the temperatures were more pleasant than hellaciously hot.
“C’mon. This way.”
Remy led Joe down a number of streets and alleys and more streets—warren-like, narrow, and confusing, but gorgeous, until they were at a corner that looked a hell of a lot like the one Lumiere stood on. It wasn’t as close to the tourist center, but Remy knew his shit. He’d figured exactly what Joe was looking for and he was trying to give it to him.
“This is the Bayou Room. I know the owner, Terrance, and he told me he wanted to retire in a few months. I just wanted you to try their Oysters Rockefeller before they’re gone.”
“Remy….” Joe felt a tight knot in his chest. Truth was, another corporation had already bought the Bayou Room and the building around it. Remy obviously had no idea. They weren’t going to change much, maybe shine the restaurant up, bring in a chef from the Food Network, and add their name to the outside of the building to draw in the crowds, but it was a done deal. And Remy’s good friend Terrance had sold for far less than Joe was planning to offer Tom. He’d just been too late for that deal.