The Fall of the Red Queen (Self Made Men...Southern Style Book 3)

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The Fall of the Red Queen (Self Made Men...Southern Style Book 3) Page 15

by Lexxi Callahan


  She called him ready to slice him to ribbons. It went to his voicemail. So she sent him a text.

  Thanks for the checklist. I’ll be sure my date follows it step by step.

  Rafe was signing a credit card slip when she returned. “Expense account.” He grinned at her again when she started to protest.

  Two weeks ago, that grin might have done something for her. He was handsome, charming and intelligent. He was also clean cut and professional. Everything she should want, but didn’t.

  No, she wanted a certain foul-mouthed scruffy musician who set her blood on fire just looking at her. Maybe after an hour or two at Chat Bleu, she’d say goodbye to Rafe and walk to Trick’s and find him. Then she’d make him follow his checklist down to the last detail.

  Twice.

  She was smiling by the time a taxi pulled up outside Lüke. She kept smiling until they walked into the packed club on Frenchmen Street and pushed their way through the throng around the stage. They spotted Elliot Carter waving at them from the inside balcony. She steered Rafe towards the wrought-iron staircase. Halfway up, she glanced across the crowd to the stage and time stopped.

  “Well,” Rafe said, his voice close to her ear so she could hear. “What are the chances?”

  She just shook her head in disbelief, not taking her eyes off the stage where Jared stood, lost in the music as he worked the vintage black and white Stratocaster all the way to the edge. His shirt was rolled up his forearms, revealing his tattoos and tightly corded arms with veins she could see even from this distance. He’d lost the vest and unbuttoned the loose shirt almost all the way down. But that wasn’t what had her attention. It was the flash of red when he turned. Her scarf was tied to a belt loop at the back of his low-slung jeans. The shock of red did strange things to her heart. Heat sizzled through her. She liked seeing it there while he was on stage in front of girls screaming his name as they danced in skimpy dresses, held their drinks up, and shook their sequined-covered asses to Marcus Napier’s frenzied call and response lyrics.

  It was a huge party at that stage, but Jared was oblivious to all of it. He concentrated on his guitar and belting out back-up responses. He was a natural on stage, owned it as he prowled around, manipulating impossible riffs from that vintage guitar.

  It took every ounce of self-control she had not to walk back down those stairs, push her way through that crowd, and get as close to him as possible. Every time he threw his head back, his eyes closed, pulling the music from the deepest parts of his soul, she felt it all the way to hers. She knew that look, or at least one similar. Ecstasy on Jared Marshall’s face was her newly discovered catnip, and she didn’t like sharing it with all of the people in this room.

  A gentle hand urged her up the stairs, and reality came crashing back. She nearly stumbled but Rafe steadied her as they made their way to Elliot. The men introduced themselves to each other and shook hands because Madlyn wasn’t capable of speech. There was some discussion of drinks, and Madlyn nodded at whatever was suggested to her. Elliot’s table had a perfect view of the stage, and she drank in as much Jared as she could before Elliot interrupted.

  “It’s good to see you out. You work too much.”

  The concern in Elliot’s voice was sincere and surprised her. “It’s still work,” she said. “He’s on my grandfather’s defense team.”

  Elliot’s expression darkened. “I thought I recognized him. Strange, he doesn’t look like a minion in person.”

  That made her smile, relaxing her face. “He’s not. He and his brother aren’t as keen on this case as they were two weeks ago.”

  “Really? They look pretty confident on TV.”

  She smiled, her throat tightening against the emotion. She saw Rafe headed their way so she leaned in close. “The Marshalls offered me a job.”

  Relief softened Elliot’s expression. “Are you going to take it?”

  “I want to,” she admitted. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Well, for purely selfish reasons, I want you to take it. I made a huge mistake when I let Jared go to Paris. Between the family law firm and Jen’s bakery, he’s run ragged these days. I’m not sure when he sleeps. I should have chained him up in my kitchen when I had the chance.”

  Jared in chains was not a mental image she could handle right now. She caught Elliot grinning at her.

  “Not for that reason,” Elliot teased her.

  Warm color suffused her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d blushed. She hadn’t known she could. She pressed her cool fingers to her cheeks and tried to change the subject. “I thought he still worked for you.”

  “He still does, technically, but if you’re joining the firm, I can have him back full time. He knows my kitchen better than anyone.”

  “Kitchen?” Rafe joined them, handing her a glass of wine and setting down two longneck beers he’d been holding with one hand. “You own a restaurant?”

  Elliot shrugged. “Just a small bistro on the edge of the Quarter.”

  “Elliot is a master of understatement,” Madlyn said. “His family opened Bistro Lagniappe in New Orleans over a hundred years ago.”

  Rafe was impressed, and Elliot was embarrassed. Her work was done so she let them try to talk above the music while she avoided glancing at the stage.

  “How long have you two known each other?” Rafe asked when the music lulled again.

  “Elliot and his partner, Jackson—he’s the one on drums down there—and my son’s father were fraternity brothers at LSU.”

  “Jackson went to high school with Robert,” Elliot added, smiling towards the stage. “They were all a few years behind me.” His smile was strained as he met Madlyn’s eyes. “Has it really been ten years? When the hell did we get so old?”

  She answered Rafe’s question before he could ask it. “My son’s father was killed in a car wreck ten years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded, waiting for the sharp stab of pain that never came. Instead, there was a bittersweet nostalgia for something very precious that was lost a long time ago. But the nostalgia was followed by gut-wrenching guilt for no longer feeling that familiar pain. Pain that also felt like loyalty to the one man who had really known her and loved her anyway.

  She glanced back at the stage, her eyes swimming with angry moisture as she watched Jared on stage. This was his fault. He’d forced her to feel all sorts of emotions she’d locked away a long time ago. He’d forced her to have fun. She should claw his heart out for making hers work again.

  She watched him lean towards the crowd, grinning at the girls who had finally gotten his attention. He just shook his head and backed off and played his guitar. Not a care in the world. Completely oblivious to the damage he’d caused.

  He must have felt her scrutiny because he glanced up then, his eyes locking with hers. Anger and dark promises riveted through her. His gaze swung to Rafe Warren, who was laughing at something Elliot said, and Jared’s expression turned dangerous. He looked back at her, and those promises turned to threats.

  She forced herself to look away, knowing it would piss him off more. The crashing chords of electric guitar a second later had her biting back a smile. She caught herself, feeling guilty for smiling because teasing him had thrown him off. She leaned across the table so she could hear Elliot and Rafe talking. Football talk didn’t interest her, but a sideways look showed her he was stalking the stage like a caged cat now. His music had gotten angry as the rest of the group kept the up-tempo party feeling going. Jared gave it a harder edge that just stirred the crowd up more.

  Jared ignored Adam’s warning look as he hit the wrong chord again. Damn it. He couldn’t think straight much less play with her right in his line of sight. Well, if he looked up. Which he tried not to do but failed repeatedly. She was ignoring him of course.

  “What is wrong with you?” Adam snapped when the set ended and the house music went up while the band took a break. Then he followed the direc
tion of Jared’s gaze. “Who is that?”

  “Nobody.” He pulled the guitar strap over his head. “I need a beer. You want something?”

  “No. That’s Madlyn Robicheaux upstairs with Elliot and that other guy isn’t it?”

  “Leave it alone.”

  He hopped down off the stage and tried to skirt the group of girls in sequin dresses. It was a bachelorette party, and they had obviously been partying all day. He knew most of them from Trick’s. They were harmless party girls who came for the music, danced, and always left the club together.

  “Dance with us, Jared. It’s Laurie’s last night of freedom.” They all smiled and pouted their glossy lips. Normally, he would have been all over dancing with cute girls who just wanted to have fun. They weren’t on the prowl. They weren’t interested in cornering him backstage so they could tell all their girlfriends later that they’d just had amazing wild sex with Jared Marshall.

  No, they wanted to have a good time. “Let me get a drink, I’ll be right back,” he promised.

  The crowd thinned out the further he got from the stage and dance floor. The bartender handed him a longneck without having to be asked. The beer was freezing cold and exactly what he needed. The bar was under the balcony where Madlyn sat with her date. Out of her line of sight, he relaxed.

  This had to stop. He’d made a complete ass out of himself stopping by her house. He’d had some damn fool idea about asking her to come hear them play since they wouldn’t be playing in the basement of a biker bar. The next thing he knew, he couldn’t see straight and wanted to break every bone in the body of the man who walked through her front door in that custom-made suit and shoes that probably cost more than Jared’s vintage Strat.

  Fuck him, his shoes, and her. He didn’t need this shit.

  “You having a bad night, baby.” The softly cooing voice only made him tense.

  He forced his eyes opened. Another of the Trick’s regulars smiled at him while she sipped her pink drink. Now this chick was on the prowl. Dressed in a slinky pink confection that highlighted her medium-brown skin, Simone was drop-dead gorgeous, despite the long yellow blonde wig that didn’t suit her at all. Simone was much better as a redhead.

  “When are you going to let Simone take care of you? A mouth’s a mouth, baby.”

  Laughter sputtered out of Jared as Simone licked her unarguably sexy lips. “Good try.”

  “C’mon, admit you’re tempted.”

  Jared shook his head, his face warmer than it should be. “Not even a little bit.”

  A beat later, she dropped the little girl smile and grinned. “Oh, one day, Marshall, I’m getting in there.”

  “I don’t let guys I went to law school with blow me, baby, but you can keep trying. I enjoy the attention.”

  “Buy me a drink, Marshall,” Simone grinned, but it was Simon who answered him.

  “That is a great dress,” Jared said a minute later when he handed Simone another pink drink.

  “You like it? I think it’s too baby-doll pink.”

  Jared sipped his beer and shook his head. “Nah, you’re pretty in pink. You performing tonight?” Lady Simone’s burlesque show was legendary.

  “At midnight. I heard you guys were playing with Marcus so I had to come by and see my boys.” She downed the rest of the drink in one gulp and grinned at Jared again and held out one perfectly manicured hand with long matching pink nails. “At least dance with me,” she asked, in Simone’s sexiest voice.

  “That I can do,” he agreed, grabbing Simone’s hand and dragging her back on the dance floor. Within minutes the bachelorette party had joined them. Surrounded by that many gorgeous girls and one undeniably sexy drag queen, Jared should have been feeling no pain.

  No such luck.

  Madlyn watched him rejoin the group of girls on the dance floor and tried not to burst out of her skin. A blonde in a slinky pink sequined sheath that was way too tight was all over him. Jared just laughed at her, and they danced together and with a bachelorette party and then with anyone else around them who wanted to join in.

  She forced her eyes away from the near-orgy going on. She’d had enough. They managed to slip out of the club before anyone saw them. But it was hard to resist not grabbing that red scarf on the way out and taking Jared with her.

  Jared played the next set in full-on zombie mode. He didn’t get any more dirty looks from Adam. He also didn’t notice when Madlyn and her date had left the club.

  Where had she gone with that prick? Anger seethed under his skin, and he almost couldn’t breathe. The smoke in the club was thick, despite the new no-smoking laws. Marcus had moved into a song that relied heavily on bounce-style call-and-response and the sexy, upbeat music was whipping the crowd into a frenzy. His head was going to explode any minute, but all he cared about was getting off the damn stage and running after her before she let that suit touch her.

  He caught Adam watching him again, but this time his friend grinned at him and nodded. Approval? Then Jared realized he’d been laying all of that anger down with his guitar without being conscious of it. He grinned back at Adam and let the music drag him down, and his prized Stratocaster sucked all the claustrophobia and pain right out of him. He shoved hard, opened up, and for the rest of the set Jared was pure rage and music, and for the first time in a week, he felt alive again.

  The set ended before he was ready. Marcus cornered him before he could leave the stage.

  “Man, I have never heard you play like that.”

  Jared shook his head and flexed his shoulders. He hurt all over, but the pain felt good. “Your genius is contagious, what can I say?”

  “You can say that you and that little prodigy of yours will come on tour with me next year.”

  Jared grinned at the idea. On tour with New Orleans’ favorite rap star would be a hedonistic dream come true. “Adam won’t leave the city.”

  “Look, talk to him, seriously. Maybe just for a few dates that’re driving distance. Atlanta, Houston. C’mon, that boy needs a bigger stage. He’s wasted in that biker bar and you know it.”

  Jared didn’t disagree, but it was hard enough to get Adam on stage in front of a small crowd. He would freak out if he had to play one of the huge venues Marcus filled these days.

  He spotted Elliot waving at him and jumped down from the stage.

  “Talk to your boy!” Marcus called after him.

  “I’ll try,” Jared sighed, pulling the beanie off his head and shoving it in the back of his jeans. The strip of red silk lashed across his hand and his vision started to turn the same color.

  “We need to talk,” Elliot said, sounding so serious the bottom dropped out of Jared’s stomach. Fuck. Was he getting fired? Tonight? Perfect.

  He sighed, his shoulders dropping.

  “Look, I know you’re exhausted and we can talk more tomorrow but I want you to just think about this. Joe is taking a leave of absence and going on one of those TV cooking shows. I’d fire his ass but he’s a great sous chef. I need you to fill in for him while he’s gone.”

  “What?” Jared stared at Elliot, not sure he was hearing anything right.

  “Jen can handle the bakery, and if Madlyn is joining your father’s firm, you don’t have any more excuses. I want you back in my kitchen…no, I need you back. I’ve just put a down payment on a space in the Marigny. I’m opening up the breakfast place we talked about. I need someone in my kitchen I can trust.”

  “And when Joe comes back?” Jared asked, wondering when he’d fallen into this alternate reality.

  Elliot’s smile was sly as he dropped his bomb. “Like I said, I need someone I trust running the Bistro kitchen. Chef de cuisine if you want it.”

  Chef de cuisine?

  He slapped Jared on the back and laughed. “Chew on that, pretty boy, and come see me tomorrow.”

  Chef de cuisine?

  At Bistro Lagniappe?

  No way had Elliot Carter just offered him chef de cuisine at the Carter family’s hundre
d-year-old world-renowned restaurant. He opened his mouth and just had nothing.

  “I do believe he’s speechless, El,” Jackson rumbled as he joined them.

  “You’re fucking with me, right?” Jared whispered, shock winding around him like fog.

  “Man, he does not fuck around about the Bistro.” Jackson reminded him.

  Jared shook his head to clear it. It didn’t work. “But—”

  “Nope!” Elliot waved away the excuses and reasons why it was impossible before Jared could get the first one out. “For once, stop thinking about what you need to do for everyone else and ask yourself what they would want you to do.”

  Jackson nudged Jared on the shoulder. “The word you’re looking for is ‘yes.’”

  “Come see me tomorrow,” Elliot added, then turned to Jackson. “Let’s get you home. They can smell you in Slidell.”

  “Fuck you, you like the way I smell.”

  Jared watched them walk away together without really seeing them. Chef de cuisine?

  He took a deep breath, wondering what Madlyn would say. Madlyn? She was probably with that suit right now…

  Everything slid right out of his mind as his vision went red. He shoved out of the crowded club and headed for his car. If he found her with that attorney, he wouldn’t be responsible for what happened next.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The back porch swing had been the first thing Madlyn had fallen in love with at the small Victorian cottage. It reminded her of the swing at the Taylors’ beach house and how much she’d loved just sitting there with Robert, doing absolutely nothing. Sometimes he’d sprawl with his head in her lap, or she’d sit curled up next to him, his arm around her while she listened to his heartbeat.

 

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