A Billion Reasons Why

by Kristin Billerbeck

  Chapter 11

  AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD

  “Are we gonna practice or not?” It was Scully, a tall, skinny black man who barely registered from behind his clarinet, which was the same shape as he was.

  The band mumbled, but all of them moved toward the stage, and Katie instinctively joined them. Luc watched her go, his mind filled with plans.

  Katie . . . her red dress swinging gently back and forth, embodied everything a man wanted in a wife: the girl next door, nurturing with just enough fight to keep it interesting, intellectual, generous to a fault, and of course . . . that heavenly figure. He’d made a tactical error. Revealed too much up front, lost himself in the emotion of his desire. One has to be able to walk away from the table. He laughed aloud. That might be an option in business mergers. In mergers of the heart, he wasn’t so rational. Not when it came to Katie. He’d protected her from a truth she wasn’t ready for, taken the high road, if you will—only to feel the full impact of his decision until this day. The question remained. Was Katie ready for the truth now?

  He’d been so ignorant. Thought he’d make his money and come back and show her the security she craved. He’d missed that train. Security to Katie came in the form of a boring engineer who would be home for dinner when he said he would, who would protect her from the emotional pain she’d already endured—the pain Luc helped afflict in his youthful exuberance.

  Katie glanced back at him from the stage, and he spoke to her heart. “What you don’t realize,” he murmured under his breath, “is that kind of life will ultimately kill who you are.” A life without music, without her soul touched by the natural rhythm within her—was that a life at all? She was born for deeper things, the way music touched her. God had created the music within her.

  Up on the stage, Katie embraced the microphone with all the ease and grace of the experienced musicians who surrounded her. In that moment, time disappeared. Not a moment had passed since he’d first laid eyes upon her. It still bothered him that Ryan knew her first. Ryan had brought him down to the club, where he’d gotten a job singing. His artsy flighty brother never did anything that was expected of him but somehow always managed to get away with being the chosen son.

  The stage was filled to capacity that night with a full big band, backup singers, and a bandleader, but all eyes went directly to Katie. Including his own. She owned the stage and the audience. Ryan had met her in theater class, and her family had come upon hard times. Naturally, his bleeding-heart brother took it upon himself to get her work and recommended her for the Barrelhouse Club, an old drinking establishment meant to provide an alternative “safer” experience to the more wild Bourbon Street bars. The owner had founded it on his love of jazz standards and the way life used to be. Mr. Montrose and Katie found a mutual respect in each other. The rest was history.

  Katie abandoned her shy background personality to bring home the bacon to her family. She’d loved to say that since her father owned a vegetable stand and daily grocery, someone had to provide the meat. Ian McKenna, God rest his soul, had always had more heart than business sense. The old man couldn’t stand to see anyone go hungry and consequently gave away too many profits. Like Katie, her father failed to see the value in his gifts. Ian may not have been a rich man, but at his funeral, one saw how truly wealthy he’d been.

  On stage, Ryan took Katie by the hand and called out to the band, “Singin’ in the Rain!”

  Luc’s stomach tightened. The first moment he’d laid eyes on her she’d been dancing to that song with Ryan, and it was as though a fire had lit in him. Luc wasn’t the sort to believe in love at first sight or soul mates, but he couldn’t deny what happened to him in that moment—how she’d captured him in a place he didn’t know existed.

  As the music began, she and Ryan started to walk to the music and broke into their tribute to Gene Kelly’s infamous tap dance, sans water, which they had learned for the stage at Loyola University. Ryan wasn’t stupid. He knew that Katie at his side increased his value by large increments.

  “I forgot how talented they both were,” Luc whispered aloud.

  “That’s her? That’s Katie?” asked a voice.

  Olivia, Ryan’s bride-to-be, appeared at Luc’s side. Olivia was a beaky blonde with a short bob. Everything about her jutted outward in pointy ways: her knees, her nose, her chin . . . She was all angles, but inside she was as soft as butter. A smart practical girl with all the street smarts his brother lacked.

  He nodded. “That’s her.”

  “You stole her from your little brother and then didn’t have the decency to marry her. Tsk-tsk.”

  “That’s not what happened at all.” He crossed his arms and faced her.

  Olivia laughed. “Ryan said that’s when you started wearing the fedora. After watching Katie dance.”

  “I did?” He hadn’t remembered that fact. “I did?” he asked again.

  “Love makes us do some crazy things, doesn’t it?”

  “Like marry my brother, you mean?”

  “Like let eight years pass before realizing how deeply you care for the only woman you ever loved.” She shrugged. “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “It was complicated. Shouldn’t you be at a fitting or some bride thing?”

  “It’s always complicated. Try explaining to my father why I’m marrying a singing, dancing DeForges without a real job. Two of you as rich as Moses, and I pick the poor one with the artistic nature. Do you think that was easy? Daddy, I’ve fallen in love. Imagine his excitement when I told him it was a DeForges. Yes, Daddy, the DeForges of Charles Street. No, Daddy, not the multimillionaire in natural foods. No, Daddy, not the jeweler from Royale either . . . yes, Daddy, the dancing one.”

  Luc broke into laughter as the tap dancing on stage grew more persistent. “Can you believe they’re that close to the original after all these years?”

  “I can. If there’s any New Orleans voodoo your brother might believe in, I do think it’s that he’s the reincarnation of Gene Kelly. Good thing his faith tells him that’s impossible, or I don’t know if I could live with him. Ryan said you started wearing the fedora to hide your acne from Katie.”

  “Did he now?” He adjusted his hat. “I guess I’m lucky Katie was a Fred Astaire girl, not into Gene Kelly.”

  “Lucky for both of us, I suppose. Trust me, it was much easier to sell my father on the big band/swing wedding than the Gene Kelly idea. I mean, he could imagine the forties with Cary Grant and Humphrey Bogart, the romanticism of heroes after World War II. Can you imagine if I tried to get Daddy to pony up for a ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ wedding, after Katrina? He would have disowned me.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “If it brought Katie back home, so much the better. For all of us. It’s time you thought about your personal life, Luc. You’re not getting any younger. Despite what the tabloids say.”

  He put his arm around Olivia and clutched her shoulder. “My brother doesn’t deserve you.”

  “So will she sing if I wait around long enough?”

  “Is your question, can she sing? She can.”

  “Your brother still thinks it was his idea to bring her here for the wedding.”

  “That was the plan,” Luc said. “You won’t rat me out, will you?”

  “She’s really beautiful, Luc. Just like you described her. There’s something about her that makes me want to know her. I can’t believe she’s a special ed teacher. When you’re plain like me, you think all women who look like that end up on Broadway or, at the very least, in the lingerie catalogs.”

  “Not my Katie.” He paused. “And you are not plain, Olivia. Don’t think I’ll let that one slip by. In fact, I do think my brother got the prettiest girl in New Orleans.”

  He meant it. Olivia’s nature made her beautiful to anyone who spent more than five minutes with her. And anyone who could put up with Ryan certainly took their sainthood seriously.

  “Katie looks like Rita Hayworth. No wond
er she’s a Fred Astaire girl. Did you know they danced together? I do, because you see, Ryan thinks that watching old movies on the weekend is research.” Olivia stared at the stage, knowing she was invisible to both Katie and Ryan in the dark recesses of the theater. “What will you do if she really has decided it’s over? What if she gets married? She waited this long.”

  “Then I have to let her go. God’s will and all that.” Luc shook his head. “My real thoughts? I’ll be hoping Dexter has a heart attack by the time he’s fifty and she’s free again. I know, I’m awful.”

  “But truthful. Better to get her back now before you wish some innocent dead.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Besides, have you ever seen me stop when I wanted something?”

  “I don’t think most wealthy men are good at hearing no, Luc.”

  “Uh-oh.” He stared at the flash of sunlight as the side door opened. Standing in the doorframe was a very large roadblock to his plan in a very tiny Pilates-shaped body. “Eileen’s here. She certainly didn’t waste any time.”

  “Eileen?”

  “Katie’s best friend and current roommate.” Luc flicked his hat’s brim with two fingers. “She’s onto me.”

  “That ain’t good.” Olivia watched Eileen at the door with a sharp gaze. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

  Suddenly he understood how his passive brother ended up engaged. Olivia’s take-no-prisoners attitude was his last chance to win back the woman of his dreams. No wonder he liked her. She was the female version of him.

  “Don’t underestimate Eileen. She’s a Southerner too.”

  “Then she’ll understand we simply don’t have the room for another guest. My father is already having a gator over the body count.”

  “I don’t think body count is the right name for wedding guests.”

  “If there are any extra guests at this point, it will be. And I may be on the first slab. You’ll excuse me.” Olivia sailed between the club chairs and tables on her way to the door.

  Olivia’s father was one of the wealthiest men in New Orleans. An oilman, he came to the financial aid of the city after Katrina and garnered a well-deserved reputation in town for his philanthropy. Until the oil spill, when all oil men were suspect again. No doubt he didn’t want to throw a lavish affair that brought more attention back to the industry.

  Luc called after her, “Don’t tick her off, Olivia, that won’t help.”

  “Please,” Olivia said. “I’m Southern.”

  Luc’s BlackBerry hadn’t stopped buzzing since he’d entered the club, and now the familiar trill of constant text messages invaded. He looked at the face of it, only to discover his assistant’s emergency text with only the current stock number. He groaned. This economy was killing him. People didn’t care about organic vegetables when they just wanted food on the table, and Costco was starting to kill them in the organics by sheer volume. So far, though, his stock, a Wall Street favorite, had escaped. Now his numbers would start to affect families and the working class with their money in natural food mutual funds.

  Katie finished her dance, and the band started up her song. She took to the clunky, old-time microphone like Fred to Ginger. “There’s a someone I’m longing to see . . . I hope that he . . .”

  He closed his eyes and let the purity of her voice carry him away. Until, during a quiet interlude, his BlackBerry bleated again. He sighed and walked out the back door into the blinding sunlight and heavy gray air. “Yeah.”

  “You can’t be out of contact right now. Do you have any idea how many board members have called me this morning? Yelled at me? Listen, I’m about ready to shove an organic leek where the sun—”

  “Renee!”

  “I’m sorry, but you forget I haven’t even endured half of this day, and I’m ready to harm some of your stockholders, so you need to get busy and make an appearance. They think you’re AWOL while stock dives.”

  “Maybe those things are connected, and I actually do something there,” he said.

  “That isn’t it, and you know it. Just get yourself back here before I start taking out board members one by one. It would not be healthy to be a Forages stockholder if I hauled off on a spree. Just sayin.’ ”

  “I wouldn’t put it past you. You should really get more fiber, Renee.”

  “Listen, if my daddy heard the way these men talk to me, he’d come and take care of it for me. Fiber intake notwithstanding. Where are you?”

  “It’s only five days. My brother’s getting married.”

  “Your brother’s getting married, you aren’t. Luc, this isn’t the kind of job you can just abandon. I’m fielding calls from the press and—”

  “Pass them on to PR. That’s what they’re there for.”

  “This is a big story. They don’t want a talking head. They want Luc DeForges. They want to know where their leader is in a time of crisis.”

  “I’ll call the chairman now and make a statement. In the meantime, tell them the truth. I had urgent family business.”

  “You have no family.”

  “I do have a family. I’m just not married. What do you think, I was raised by wolves?”

  “Sometimes I’ve wondered.”

  He hung up and tried to open the back door, but it was locked. After fumbling with one door after another, he eventually found he’d walked around the entire building and twenty minutes had passed. When he finally got back in, it was to find the band members milling around looking at their song list for the wedding. Katie . . . and Eileen . . . were nowhere in sight.

  Chapter 12

  SWINGING ON A STAR

  Katie gave a thumbs-up to the band and stepped down from the stage. She’d been blinded by stage lights during Eileen’s entrance, but she’d know that teenage frame anywhere. She grabbed on to her friend as if Eileen had been lost at sea. “How did you get here? You got your classes covered?”

  “Not without some moaning, but I managed. My mom said Pokey’s getting fluids this morning, and they have houseguests. So I’m staying at your place until tomorrow.” Eileen led her around the velvet curtain and outside into the scalding sunlight. “You sounded great in there.”

  Katie blinked rapidly and her eyes watered as they tried to adjust. The air loomed stiflingly hot, as if the entire city was situated inside a giant sauna bath. “Thanks.”

  “Olivia thought so too.” Eileen stood back so that the two women could see each other.

  “You’re the bride!” Katie said.

  “You’re the singer! Let me hug you. You haven’t been gone that long, to forget that we hug down here.”

  The blonde had a strong grip, and Katie felt a bit crushed. “You two have met?”

  Eileen placed a foot on the wall of the building and stretched her hamstring. She bounced against the building, then switched feet. “Sure. Olivia was worried I might be an extra guest crashing her wedding. I assured her I wouldn’t be there. If I want to hear you sing, I can just wait for your shower, right?”

  Olivia looked mortified. “I didn’t mean—”

  Eileen waved her hand dismissively. “No harm done. I’m not really the cotillion type anyway, am I, Katie?”

  “She doesn’t even wear dresses,” Katie said.

  “I was telling Olivia,” Eileen continued, “I came out early to beat Dex.”

  “Beat Dex where?” Katie asked.

  “Actually, in the shins, but what I mean is he’s flying here to New Orleans after work tonight.”

  Katie shook her head. “Dexter wouldn’t do that. He hates surprises.”

  “Remember when he said that he’d meet your mother before the engagement? You know he’s a very literal person, right?” Eileen stared at Olivia. “Dex is the one you have to worry about crashing your wedding. No offense, but I couldn’t care less. I just had this sixth sense you’d need me to warn you.”

  Katie thought about the ramifications of Dex’s coming to her home, how she hadn’t prepared him for her mother’s blunt ways and how he wa
sn’t schooled in the fine art of subtle conversation with Southern women. Her nervousness about her singing dissipated amidst the reality that Dexter Hastings and Irene McKenna would be in the same proximity without a thorough briefing on one another. Mam spoke Southern Subtext and Dexter, Silicon Valley Literal. It would take a Geneva Convention for these two to come together.

  “Dexter in New Orleans,” she pondered. Her stomach jumbled at the thought that her boyfriend might have walked in on Luc kissing her. How would she explain that? How could she explain that? Her limbs began to shake as she absorbed what had happened.

  “Don’t take him to a restaurant. He doesn’t eat spicy food, and there’s nothing worse in this town than a man who can’t down his Tabasco.”

  “Judging by your discussion with Luc this morning, he won’t like sharing his date.” Olivia’s blue eyes ignited, and it was understood that the words were a veiled threat. Katie’s escapade into history had not gone unnoticed by the bride.

  “What discussion? Luc no longer has a say in anything Katie does,” Eileen said.

  “For someone with no say, his lips seemed to be doing a lot of speaking in the club.”

  “Luc’s all bluster. Don’t you know that by now?” Eileen asked, bending at the waist and dropping her arms to the banquette.

  “Would you stop that?” Katie pounced. “You’re making me as nervous as a cat!”

  “It doesn’t normally bother you.” Eileen looked to Olivia. “I have a hard time sitting still. The body just wants to go.” She rocked her fists like she was running. “So anyway, I think Dex is coming to meet your mam and propose, so he can get this wedding on. That boy is more anxious to get married than any woman I ever saw. You’d think he was the one people call an old maid.”

  Katie gave a nervous laugh. “So who are the guests your parents have in town for the wedding? Anybody I know?” She hoped to keep the two of them from saying any more about Luc.