I’d had enough. This day had sucked, and I was done.
“Sit down, Bradford.”
“I—” A look of confusion passed over his features before he dropped into the chair behind him.
I leaned forward. “Don’t underestimate me. I’m not your son, thank God or whatever powers there are. And I never tried to mess with you. Believe me, if I wanted to, I could make you cluck like a chicken and flap your wings all around the yard before you copped a squat to lay an egg. And in this crowd—” I waved my hand to encompass the enormous patio and expanse of grass filled with people from the First Families of King. “These people, they’d only laugh. They see you for the powerless, ineffectual ass you are.”
Bradford’s mouth worked, and I only had to look at him before it snapped shut. “No more talking.”
Lucie glanced at me. Want me to get backup?
I shook my head. “Nah, Bradford is done talking for the day. Isn’t that right, buddy?”
Fury filled his eyes, but it only took a slight narrowing of mine for him to nod, jerkily.
“Rafe.”
I didn’t need to turn to know Gram was standing behind me.
“Yes, ma’am.” I kept my focus on my stepfather.
“Don’t you think that’s enough?”
“Not hardly.”
“Rafe.”
I rolled my eyes and turned away. Bradford slumped as though he were a puppet whose strings had been cut.
“What happened?” Panic filled my mother’s voice as she climbed the steps to the terrace. “What did you do?”
“What did I do? Here’s a thought, Mom. Why don’t you ask your husband here what he did to me? Why do you assume it’s me?”
“Patrice, take Bradford inside, please. And I think perhaps it might be a good idea for you two to pack up and leave tonight. I’ll have Lucie make you reservations at a hotel outside of town.”
My mother looked from my grandmother to me, indecision all over her face. “But Rafe—his party. I mean, I’m his mother. You can’t keep him from me.”
“Of course, you’re right. I can’t. However, Rafe is eighteen years old and fully capable of making his own choices. I simply suggest that you move on in order to save us all unpleasantness.”
Gram was not a large woman, but damned if she couldn’t be the scariest thing I’d ever seen sometimes.
My mother was torn, I knew, between doing what she wanted, which was to get the hell out of King, and what she thought looked right, which was staying with me. I decided to cut her a break.
“Mom, why don’t you just go? You guys were leaving tomorrow anyway, right? Bradford doesn’t want to be here, and I bet you’re ready to leave, too.”
Tears filled her eyes—the kind of tears that a year ago might have meant something to me. But now they just irritated me.
“I’ll go take care of the hotel arrangements.” Lucie stood, glanced at me with a smile, and slipped in through the open glass doors.
In a whirl of efficiency that only my grandmother could have accomplished, my mother and Bradford were heading out the door thirty minutes later. I stood at the bottom of the steps as my mom wrung her hands.
“Rafe, are you sure...you could come back to California with us. Even just for a visit.” She cast a sideways glance at Bradford, who looked less than enthusiastic.
“I’m good here, Mom. This is where I belong.”
“But college? You’ve gotten in every place you applied. You could come to a school on the West Coast. Get away from—” She stopped in mid-sentence.
“This is where he belongs, here with the other freaks.” Bradford growled the words as he stepped out the door. “Come on, Patrice.”
She looked at him and then back at me, torn. Just like always. It was up to me to make it easier on her; God knew Bradford never would.
“Good-bye, Mom.” I hugged her, closing my eyes and letting myself remember for just a moment the days when it was only the three of us, when Dad was alive and Mom loved who I was. “Thanks for coming out for my graduation. I’ll be in touch.”
“Make sure you are.” She laid one hand on my cheek, looking up into my eyes. “I know it’s been hard, Rafe. But I love you. I always will.”
I stepped back. “I love you, too, Mom. Have a safe trip back.” I watched as she stepped down the stone steps into the night.
And then it was two of us in the huge foyer. Gram slipped her hand around my arm and gave a gentle squeeze.
“I know.” She spoke softly, with understanding and acceptance.
“What do you know?” I smiled down at her.
“You need to leave. You have to get out of King, for a while at least.” She sighed. “I’m going to miss you dreadfully, you understand. But this is for the best.”
“You’re kicking me out?” I swallowed over a sudden lump in my throat. Yes, leaving had been an option, but I didn’t think it was going to be forced on me.
“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” Trust Gram to toss out the emotion. “You can stay here as long as you want. Forever. But you won’t. And I want you to know that your grandfather and I support you, no matter what you choose to do.” She hesitated a moment. “I think being in King this summer would be extraordinarily hard for you, and I want you to feel free to leave.”
For the first time all day, I felt like I was going to break down. I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing away the waves of hurt.
“I thought once I didn’t have to see her anymore, it would be better. But now knowing I won’t is even worse.”
Gram pulled me into a hug, holding me together for just a few moments.
“This is why you should go.”
I choked back a laugh. “Shouldn’t you be telling me not to run away from my problems?”
She reached up to smooth my hair away from my eyes, compassion and pain lining her face.
“My darling, under the circumstances, I think running away is your best choice.”
***
NEW ORLEANS IN the summer is brutal. In October, it’s only a little better.
I’d been in town for nearly a month now, the longest I’d stayed anywhere since leaving King. No place felt like it fit until I hit the Big Easy. But walking out of the airport into the heavy air late one night in September, I felt the click. There was something here. I took a cab into the Quarter and checked into the first hotel that looked promising. The next morning, after walking around town, I returned to the front desk and had them move me to a suite, opting for an indefinite stay.
“I thought you’d like New Orleans.” Gram was as always unfazed by my decision when I called to let her know my plans...or lack thereof. Her only requirement of me for the past months had been a weekly telephone call and an update when I changed locations. Her understanding made it easy to keep in touch.
“Yeah, there’s a connection here.” I sat by the river, looking across as we talked. “You know the old stories that Gravis King chose that spot to put the town, because it was some kind of mystical convergence? I think he would have felt it in New Orleans, too. I feel like I’m supposed to be here. It’s like I fit, for the first time in...forever.”
I fell into an uncomplicated rhythm of life there: breakfast at Café Du Monde in the early morning, before the heat became too intense. Yeah, it was full of tourists, but it was also full of history and damn good beignets and coffee. Besides, the tourists were amusing, particularly when I played with them.
After breakfast, I usually wandered. It took me a solid two weeks to feel like I had a handle on the Quarter, going through alleys and spending long hours at old churches, in bars or just walking through cemeteries. The ground thrummed with energy, and sometimes I just stood in one spot, soaking it up.
When the heat of the afternoon hit, I went back to my suite and slept until the shadows grew long. And then I changed and went out into the night, hitting all the spots the locals recommended when I wanted to be alone and choosing the tourist traps when I wanted
to have...fun.
I sat on the edge of the terrace at Café Du Monde, nursing a mug of dark chicory coffee and playing with the last bite of beignet. I loved the weird juxtaposition of the predictable and the bizarre here: each morning, my French doughnuts arrived on the same thick white plates, delivered by one of the many women who waited tables. I had discovered few of them spoke English, and we relied on a series of gestures to communicate.
Just beyond the low wall that surrounded the outside dining area, an interesting mix of street performers worked. There was the trumpet player whose mournful tones sent shivers down my spine, and the mime dressed all in white who startled more than one tourist by pretending to be a statue. Sometimes a guitarist joined the mix, and a clown came by later in the morning, making balloon animals and amusing the children in the crowd.
Pretending to be absorbed in the folded newspaper on the table, I scanned the other tables, looking for my next diversion. There was a girl about my own age, with long light brown hair and green eyes, sitting at a table not far from me. She met my stare and smiled tentatively, but I looked away. Too close. Too much like...her. Plus, I’d seen her here the last few days, and I had a strict policy of not engaging regulars. Not that they would remember, of course, but still...principles are principles.
“Shit! Shit, shit, shit!!”
I turned just a little to look toward the center of the patio, and my gaze stuck. The red-haired girl sitting by herself was digging through a huge handbag, distraught expression on her face. She wore black shorts and a snug gray tank top that didn’t leave much to the imagination.
Bingo.
I dropped enough cash on my table to cover my bill plus a generous tip. I liked coming back here every morning, and I wanted to keep the wait staff happy. And then I stood, stretched and wound my way through the tables.
“Everything okay?”
The red-head looked up at me, big brown eyes filling with tears. “Yes. No, I can’t find my wallet. I think I left it at my hotel, but what if someone stole it? Everyone says New Orleans is full of pickpockets. If I don’t have my wallet, I’m screwed. Not to mention I can’t even pay my bill here.”
I gave her my take-charge, assuring grin. “Let’s handle one thing at a time, okay? First of all, I’m Rafe. Rafe Brooks.” I offered my hand.
She narrowed her eyes for just a moment before smiling and shaking my hand. “Jocelyn Pennell. Joss, for short.”
“Nice to meet you, Joss. Now, let’s pay your bill, and then I’ll walk with you back to your hotel, we’ll see if your wallet is there. If it is, problem solved. If not, I’ll take you to the police station, get the ball rolling on replacing everything.”
She was shaking her head before I finished. “I couldn’t let you do that. You don’t even know me.”
I shrugged. “Fellow traveler, just happy to help. Really. I promise, no ulterior motive.”
Joss hesitated a minute more. “Well, if you don’t mind covering my check here, I can pay you back when we get to my hotel. If my wallet’s there, anyway. If not, I promise I’ll get it to you somehow.”
“Don’t sweat it. A plate of beignets and cup of coffee aren’t going to break me.” I picked up the thin slip of paper on her table and scanned it before tossing a few bills down. “There we go. Problem solved. Now what hotel are you staying in?”
“Hotel St. Marie. On Toulouse.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Nice. Well, come on. Let’s go find your wallet.”
We headed down Decatur Street, hanging a right on Toulouse just past Jax Brewery.
“So, you’re not from here.” It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway.
“Nope. I’m...well, I’m from all over. But most recently Florida.”
“Oh, like, all the theme parks and everything? Beaches?”
I bit back my natural growling response at the typical ignorance and shook my head. “Not really. It’s a big state. My family lives in an old town, kind of right in the middle of the peninsula. It’s all woods and farms.”
“What are you doing here, then?”
“Just traveling, taking some time to see the world. How about you?”
“I’m here for work.”
I glanced at her as we ducked under a tree growing at the edge of the sidewalk. “What do you do? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Her mouth curved up into a slight smile. “Not at all. I’m in talent acquisition for a consulting firm.”
“That’s kind of vague.”
“Maybe.” Joss shrugged. “It’s a title. It just means I scope out people to fill positions we need, who might be a good fit for us and for our clients.”
“And just what kind of clients do you have?”
She grinned at me. “Very demanding ones, who value discretion.”
I put a hand on her lower back to steer her around a group of kids coming the opposite direction. “Sounds mysterious.”
“You have no idea.”
Joss slowed as we approached a brick building with intricate wrought iron work and flags flying from the overhang. A small oval sign above gas lamps noted the name of the hotel.
“Here we are.” She stood to the side as I opened the door and then followed her into a quiet lobby with brass and crystal chandeliers and upholstered chairs that reminded me of my grandmother’s sitting room. A woman standing behind the black marble counter nodded to us as we passed.
“You’re close to Bourbon Street,” I noted. “Have you been enjoying the nightlife?”
For the first time, Joss frowned. “Hardly. It’s not my thing. I requested an interior room as far from the street as possible so I don’t have to hear the noise.”
She paused as we stood in front of an elevator, and I sensed her discomfort.
“Do you want me to wait down here in the lobby?” I pointed to the chairs.
She glanced down the hall, at the elevator doors and then at me, biting her lip. “No, you can come with me. Those chairs don’t look very comfortable.”
We rode up in silence. At her door, I watched Joss slide in the key and followed her inside.
The suite was beautiful. A small living room with a loveseat and chairs that matched those in the lobby gave way to the bedroom, which was dominated by a huge four-poster bed and a fireplace. I whistled silently.
“Nice. Your company really puts you up in style.”
Joss laughed. “I can’t complain. If you want to sit down, I’ll just go check the closet. That’s where I usually keep my purse. Fingers crossed that my wallet’s in there.”
I watched her move across the room, long legs striding beneath her shorts. She stopped at a white louvered door and knelt down, feeling around on the floor and giving me a nice view of her ass while she was at it. Not that I was complaining.
“Ha!” She jumped to her feet, holding up a red leather wallet in her hand. “It’s here! Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She did a little shimmy dance, and I laughed.
“Gotta love a happy ending.”
“Yes. Now how much do you I owe you for covering my breakfast?” She opened the wallet and pulled out a few bills.
I waved. “My treat. It isn’t every day I get to help out a gorgeous a woman in distress.”
Joss narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “Well, if I can’t pay you back, at least let me take you to dinner. Are you free tonight?”
I was free every freaking night, but I rolled my eyes back as though thinking about it.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I think I am. But you don’t have to do that.”
She curled her lips into a smile and widened her eyes. “I know I don’t, but I want to. That’s what makes it more fun.”
Playing right into my hands. Nice. I shook my head, laughing. “Okay, what time? I’ll pick you up here?”
“Sure, and let’s say seven. I’ve got work all day, but that should be perfect. I’ll make reservations.” She roved her eyes up and down over me, checking out my khaki shorts and t-shirt. “Dress up a l
ittle, all right? I have a place in mind, but they have a dress code.”
I nodded. “I clean up pretty good, don’t worry. See you at seven.” I held out my hand to shake hers, but when her fingers closed around mine, Joss pulled me in and tiptoed to kiss my cheek.
“Thank you for being my knight in shining armor.” A wicked gleam shone in her brown eyes.
“Any time.” I opened the door and retreated to the hallway before I got myself in trouble too soon.
It was going to be an interesting evening.
***
MY HOTEL WAS only a ten-minute walk from where Joss was staying. After a fast trip to a tailor my concierge had recommended, I spent the rest of the day sleeping, catching up from the night before. By the time I woke up and showered, it was time to pick up my date.
I blinked in the light from the setting sun as I stepped out of the cool lobby of the Monteleone and into the crowds building on the street. I loved the vibe and rhythm of New Orleans, the sounds of the feet and the cadence of the people’s speech. I stood for just a moment, letting my mind reach out into the souls of those passing by.
I’ve always known what I could do, from my earliest memories. At first it was just another way to get what I wanted from my parents, even when I didn’t know I was doing it, and then my dad began to train me. He was strict: I was never allowed to bend my teachers’ minds or to manipulate people for gain.
“Then why do I have it?” I’d asked, sulking.
“You’ll know when you’re supposed to use it. Be smart about it, Rafe. This power isn’t a toy.”
I thought about my dad as I wove through the crowds. He’d been gone for over five years now, but sometimes I missed him like it was yesterday. And on other days, it felt like eons since I had a father.
On the corner in front of me, an exhausted-looking young mother was trying to cajole her toddler to stay in his stroller, while he bucked and screamed. People skirted around her, some rolling their eyes and others shooting her empathetic glances.
I focused on the little boy and probed for just a blink of time. All sound disappeared, as I fell deep into the zone, a place where nothing existed but my own ability. I felt his fatigue and unhappiness, and I tinkered.
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