by Liz Talley
“Will you listen to yourself? You spent the past eleven years sacrificing yourself, and now when you have an opportunity to . . . to . . . be a little selfish and claim a life, you revert back to being a doormat.”
“Jess,” Ryan chided, tapping her hand. “Back off a little.”
Jess clamped her mouth closed and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just love you and want you to—”
“Live my own life?” Eden finished. Jess’s words had hit their target, but Eden knew her own mind. She always had. “That’s what I’m doing. I get what you’re saying and understand the irony of escaping my mother only to find myself doing the same thing three hundred miles south, but I own my decision. The timing isn’t right for school. Things weren’t working, and I couldn’t devote myself like I needed to do. And, truthfully, I couldn’t afford it.”
“But you had Lacy’s money,” Jess fired back.
“Do you know how little that stretches when you live in a city and have to pay for a new water pump, computer repairs, and your mother’s very expensive medications? It doesn’t go far, Jess. I don’t make what a surgical nurse makes. I don’t have parents who paid for my college or my car. Don’t you dare lecture me about the choices I had to make . . . or the ones I want to make. Like being there for Nick and Sophie.” Eden’s voice had risen, attracting the attention of the next table.
Jess released a sigh. “You’re right.”
“I know I am,” Eden said, lowering her voice. “I’m not giving up, Jess. I’m just saving some money. You don’t understand, but—”
“I do. I understand, and therefore, I shouldn’t have put you through the third degree. You’re a big girl, E.”
Eden quirked her brow.
Jess smiled. “Okay, so you’re a tiny thing but a grown woman. I’m protective of you, but I’d be the same with anyone I love. Sometimes I speak before I think.”
“Yeah, you do,” Eden said.
Jess slid a glance over to Ryan. “But I hope you really thought this out. You don’t—”
Eden gave Jess the look, the same one she’d given her when she’d tried to set her up with Moose for homecoming their senior year. It was the look exchanged between countless girlfriends since the dawn of time. I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work on me.
Jess got the message and clamped her mouth shut before she could do more damage.
“Thank you, Jess,” Eden said using the tone she used on Sophie when she capitulated. Jess wasn’t buying what she was selling, but her friend would let it go for now. Jess Culpepper had a lot of good attributes, but accepting she was wrong wasn’t one of them. Jess always thought she knew best. She wasn’t quite as managing as Rosemary’s mother, but she could have been Patsy Reynold’s padawan.
“So tell us about your charge. What’s her name?” Ryan asked, sipping his beer, doing the good-boyfriend thing by changing the subject.
“Oh, huh, I’ve never thought about her as a charge. That sounds so Jane Eyre.”
“Well then, what do you call her?” Ryan asked.
“Sophie?” Eden smiled, thinking about the exuberant girl who bore the disease pulling at her body so well. “She’ll turn eight in a few weeks. She’s a pretty little thing in spite of the cerebral palsy. Her cheeks are always pink, her eyes always sparkling. Except when she’s being bullheaded, which isn’t all that often. She’s a sweet child who needs me.”
Jess looked at her this time, her eyes dawning with understanding. Eden knew it was weak to want someone to need her, but she couldn’t help it. Both Nick and Sophie had needed her, making it doubly hard to step away.
“What about the dad? You said he’s a chef or something?” Jess asked.
“His family owns several prominent restaurants around the area. Du Parrain and Maude’s Uptown. He’s like a vice president of marketing or something. He’s pretty busy but good about being home when he says he will be.”
“Home?” Jess quirked an eyebrow.
“You know what I mean,” Eden said, trying not to color at the implied intimacy.
“You like him?” Jess continued.
“He’s a nice man.”
Jess delivered a cat smile. “E, do you like him like him?”
Damn it. How could Jess sniff out the attraction she held for Nick so easily? Was she that obvious? Was it in the way she said his name? Or the spark in her eyes when she thought about him? Or perhaps something else? “He’s my boss, Jess.”
“So?”
“So, I can’t be into him in that way. It’s too complicated.”
“Why?” Ryan asked.
“Because.”
Ryan regarded her with a thoughtful expression. “Do you have a company policy that guides your behavior in regards to your employer?”
“I don’t have a company policy. I’m the company.”
“Perhaps you should.” Ryan shrugged and hungrily eyed the burgers and fries on a tray as a waitress passed their table.
“She doesn’t need a policy, Ry,” Jess said, focusing her intense gaze on Eden. “Eden needs some good lovin.’ Or as my dumb-butt ex-husband would say, she needs some experiences.”
Eden drew back. “I do not.”
“Sure you do. You never had a chance to be irresponsible. Ryan didn’t either. You both skipped the keg parties, the walks of shame, the really bad decision to let your roommate cut your bangs. Ry tried to make up for it, and from what I understand enjoyed himself a little too much,” Jess said, shooting her boyfriend a look of censure.
Ryan lifted his beer bottle. “Amen.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m making up for lost time. With all due respect, I’m not Ryan,” Eden said.
“She’s not,” Ryan said with a grin that made him look nothing like the brainiac he was.
“I’m not interested in jumping my boss because I have an attraction for him. I—”
“Aha! I was right.” Jess jabbed a finger at her.
“Well, yeah, he’s extraordinarily good-looking and single. But our relationship is a working one.” Other than the fact she’d sat in his lap and flirted outrageously with him as Lulu LaRue. And that he’d liked it. A lot.
“Whatever,” Jess said, accepting her cheeseburger with extra pickles from the waitress who finally stopped with their food. “It’s not like you’re going to stay Sophie’s nanny forever. You’re going back to school. What’s the harm?”
Eden didn’t answer immediately because she wasn’t sure. She’d known many people who’d carried around regret from indulging in affairs they shouldn’t have. She’d seen it firsthand with her mother and her sister. Yeah, the Voorhees women weren’t exactly great at making good decisions. Eden might not be experienced when it came to sleeping around, but she knew jumping into something haphazardly could set her back. Being with Nick could be very good, but it would also be messy at a time where she didn’t want the hassle of a relationship. Eden wasn’t tossing aside her goals for a man. After all, she and Nick would never work. They were too different. One day, she’d have time for matters of the heart, but Broadway had always been her ultimate destination. Fame and fortune were still far off, but at least she’d set her feet in that direction.
“Guess what? Fredric has contacts in New York City. I may go up in the summer or fall and do some auditions,” Eden said, feeling convinced about where her future lay.
Jess frowned as if she was quite aware Eden had intentionally changed the subject. Her friend didn’t speak for a few seconds, and Eden could almost see her mind whirring. Press? Or let go? Finally, Jess said, “That’s exciting.”
Relief bloomed inside Eden. Jess could be like a terrier. That her friend had given up the juicy bone of Eden chasing her boss was a small victory. “That doesn’t mean I won’t go back to school. If I go to NYC this summer and nothing happens, I’ll head back to UNO in September, but if something does . . .” She didn’t have to say what that would mean to her. Jess knew.
“Cool,” Ryan said, scooping
up some ketchup and shoving three fries into his mouth. “Maybe you’ll get the hookup and we can score some Hamilton tickets.”
“You going to New York City?” Jess asked her eyes wide. “You hate crowded cities.”
“Sal made it sound kinda cool,” Ryan said.
“Kinda cool? Who are you?” Jess joked as they launched into a boisterous discussion of Broadway musicals and celebrities Sal had seen in his once-upon-a-time city.
Eden dug into her food, glad the conversation had shifted to something less controversial. She vowed she would enjoy having her friend with her for the next two days. Nick had told her to not worry with coming in Saturday or Sunday, and because she’d been so busy working, she’d not had time to explore the city. It was Ryan’s first true experience in the Crescent City . . . because going for an international robotic competition didn’t really count. So they had plans to go to the Mardi Gras museum and visit the music clubs on Frenchman Street. Not to mention Sunday brunch at Brennan’s. Frenchie had fussed about moving Eden’s performance to earlier in the evening, but she’d relented when Eden promised to learn a burlesque-style fan dance for a new number. Frenchie drove a hard bargain. Eden was allergic to chicken feathers, but the sneezing would be worth doing something decadent like taking a few days for herself.
“Let’s order dessert,” Ryan said, polishing off his cheeseburger.
“Yeah, let’s.” Eden grinned at the handsome bottomless pit who sat across from her. She had weekend liberty, and she was going to enjoy it.
With chocolate sauce.
Gatsby’s was busy on Saturdays. Extremely busy. But Nick had managed to score a table for two by using his family name. Kinda squirrely, but he’d only stooped so low because he had to see Lulu again.
Had to.
As he entered the establishment and gave the snooty hostess his name, he wondered why he felt this ungodly need to show up alone to a nightclub to watch a saucy redhead trot around the stage. Dime a dozen in this town, right?
He’d argued with himself right up until the moment he called Gatsby’s. And then after making the reservation, he told himself it was only because he’d been slightly inebriated. That was the reason her sultry voice and smooth moves had haunted his dreams for the past week. She couldn’t be that good. The scotch had been responsible for the huge buildup in his mind.
“And will someone be joining you?” the hostess inquired.
He hoped so.
“Not at the moment,” he said, nodding when she led him to a table situated on the right side of the room. It wasn’t the closest table, but it had a good view and some semblance of privacy. “Thank you.”
The hostess nodded and slipped away. Nick unfolded his napkin and smiled a hello at the gangly waitress who’d served him and John David several nights ago.
“Oh, you’re back. Where’s your friend?” she said with a friendly smile, setting two glasses of water on the table.
“He may join me later.” A little white lie, but it made him feel less stalkerish. “I was impressed and thought I would come back and check it out again.”
“Yeah?” she said, smiling even bigger. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m the person who found Lulu LaRue. Totally told her about this place.”
He looked at her name tag. Jordan. “Did you?”
“I should get a finder’s fee, right?” she joked. “Now, what can I get you to drink?”
He’d rather talk about Lulu, but that might look, again, stalkerish. And was he being stalkerish? Or merely determined? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he’d felt so drawn to her in a way that hadn’t existed for him in a while. Sure, he’d been with other women, but he’d never felt such an immediate attraction. Or maybe it was fascination. Or something he couldn’t place his finger on.
He totally blamed it on his sister. In not so many words, she’d planted the idea that he should pay attention to the simplicity of his body’s needs rather than focusing on compatibility, sparkling conversation, and potential for relationship. His body wanted Lulu. His desire was like a small child hungrily eyeing the decadent sweet behind the storefront glass. Which was why currently he had his nose pressed against the glass. And was paying a top-notch babysitting firm a small fortune to watch Sophie tonight because Eden had friends in town and hadn’t been available. “Single malt scotch. Let’s go with the fifteen-year Glenlivet.”
She gave him one last smile—good tip insurance—and disappeared.
Maybe scotch was a bad idea. After all, it was responsible for fueling the flames of his libido.
Nick glanced around, feeling somewhat conspicuous about sitting alone. Every table held a boisterous party or at least a couple clinking wineglasses. The dance floor was semicrowded with people showing off the ballroom dancing lessons they’d taken as the ten-piece brass band performed a toned-down rendition of “Jambalaya.”
Jordan delivered his drink, and he put in an order for Creole crab cakes with a tangy remoulade sauce. Then he tried to put out the cool and mysterious vibe rather than the “I’m here to drool over Lulu” pathetic vibe.
Ten minutes later the curtains swept open and there she was.
Tonight she wore a simple blue dress that swished around her toned thighs and clung to her small breasts. She swung a jaunty yellow umbrella that she snapped open to frame her shimmering red locks. Lulu’s lips were painted in what seemed to be her signature—a red so deep it made his salivary glands kick into overdrive. Just the thought of brushing his lips across hers caused interest to stir beneath his belt, which was crazy and sophomoric. But very much a reality. Once again he was reminded of being that child pressed against the smudged glass. I want some.
He’d gone over the edge.
Jesus. He wanted.
Wanted.
The band struck up, and before he could take another sip, Lulu was off. He didn’t know much about dancing, but she was good. And she got the crowd into it. Tonight she tapped, no sultry siren, but rather a wisecracking, sassy firecracker of a gal doing an old Gene Kelly number. Singing in the rain. Laughing, tapping, loving in the rain. And true to form, she moved out to the audience, inviting them to go on the splashy, fun romp with her.
He knew the moment she saw him. Her eyes blinked once, then twice, but she never missed a beat. She didn’t move toward him, but her reaction told him something—she remembered him. Now whether that was a bad thing or a good thing, he wasn’t sure. Still, he felt pleased that she’d reacted in some way.
Midway into the song, the lights lowered and the music changed into “Purple Rain.” Lulu was joined by a handsome black man who moved as smoothly as she did. They linked hands and Fred and Gingered across the dance floor. Together they were mesmerizing, flowing like water, turning like newly greased cogs in perfect unison. Eventually, the song changed back to the lively “Singing in the Rain” and both did a spectacular tap that ended with a small explosion of blue confetti. It was campy, silly, and perfect in every way. The audience went nuts, several giving a standing ovation.
Lulu laughed and then turned and kissed the man.
Nick stopped clapping and tried to stifle the urge to leap across the dance floor and rip the man’s throat out.
While everyone was distracted, Nick moved over to the piano player who had pushed back from the fancy piano and looked to be heading for a break.
“Hey,” he called, hoping like heck he wasn’t being too creepy. “Excuse me.”
The thin man turned. “Yeah?”
“Ms. LaRue . . . can you give her a message for me?”
“I ain’t no errand boy, man,” he said, looking annoyed.
“I wasn’t treating you like one. I just figured you were heading to the back and wouldn’t mind. I can make it worth your while,” Nick said reaching inside his jacket.
The piano player gave him a look of disdain. “Shit, man. I can give a message without being paid for it.”
“Sorry. That came out wrong,” Nick said, noting that Lulu and her partne
r were leaving the stage, heading back to the dressing area on the other side. He’d screwed things up trying to go through the piano player. “Never mind.”
“Nah, what’s the message? No use in me being a dick. Help a guy out and all that.”
“Just tell her Nick wants to buy her that drink.” Sounded lame when he said it out loud. So much for the cool James Bond vibe he wanted to put out. Sophistication flew out the window to be replaced by Goober from Andy Griffith. Or that weird snowman in that cartoon his daughter liked to watch. Whichever, he sounded slightly desperate and kooky.
“Aight, man,” the guy said, jerking his head in a universal cool nod. The piano player was so not a goober. He had the cool vibe down.
Nick walked back to his table and jiggled the ice cubes in his glass. He shouldn’t have come. It was a dumb idea. Lulu had essentially dismissed him a few nights ago, and because he couldn’t get her out of his mind, he’d traipsed down here like a pathetic schmuck. Please have a drink with me. Throw me a crumb of attention. I’m pathetic.
A swoosh of perfumed air tickled his nose and interrupted his self-bashing.
“You rang?” Lulu said breathlessly as she sat down next to him.
Her lips were extra glossy, and a fine sheen of perspiration covered the plunging vee of the dancing costume. He felt oddly compelled to lick her chest . . . which was very unsettling and also kind of erotic.
She narrowed her eyes at him expectantly. “You wanted to buy me a drink? ’Cause I could use one.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” he said, sounding like the dork he’d imagined himself to be.
Jordan appeared with a tall glass of ice water. “Here ya go, Lulu. The usual.” She set the glass with the floating slice of lemon in front of Lulu.
So she did this quite often, huh? Of course she did. How many guys had she blessed with her presence after a performance? Nothing special about Nick.
Lulu picked up the glass and downed about half. “Thanks for the drink.”
“You’re a cheap date,” Nick said with a wry smile.