Paul took a moment to process those options. That didn’t sound like the diner food he remembered from his childhood. “Anything with grits, bacon, hash browns, eggs?” he tried again.
She smiled brightly. “I’ll just have the chef fix you some plates up, ‘kay?”
“Thanks a lot.” As she walked away, Paul shook his head. “Braised romaine with figs? Weird.”
“Sounds good to me. And no weirder than you promising to build a few computer labs, complete with teachers,” Andy said.
“About that… I had an epiphany,” Paul said.
Andy’s brows went up.
“See, I went into By The Book this morning and―”
“Oh, boy.” Andy interrupted. “I knew it had to do with her. I saw the way you were looking at her yesterday. Isn’t there a rule about getting involved with the landlady?”
“No, it really isn’t about her. Just let me explain.” Paul held up a hand. “I was looking for directions and then her ex-boyfriend came in and we got into a fight―”
“You what? Why?” Andy looked a little panicked.
“He insinuated something about Alice and my fist decided it didn’t like his face.” Paul held up one hand, looking at his swollen knuckles.
Andy closed his eyes for a second. “And this was your problem, how?”
He didn’t have any answer to that question.
“I’ll call the lawyers when we get back to the apartment. They’ll need to know about this in case there’s a lawsuit,” Andy said almost to himself.
“So, after that, I was walking down here and this kid stopped me and talked about how Commander Lorfan was obsessed with revenge. I realized it sounded a lot like myself,” Paul said.
“What? Wait, did you know Alice before you met her yesterday? Like back in high school or something?”
“No. She’s the bookseller who wrote to the Browning Wordsworth Keats site yesterday, the one I was emailing on the plane. But that’s unrelated.”
Andy’s eyes went wide. He said nothing now, just waited for the rest of the story.
“About Alice, I didn’t know how everything would go. Really. And the realtor had just said the apartment was in the historic district so I had no idea that we’d be living upstairs with her.” He paused as Jenny came by with ice water. She shot him a glance as she heard the last few words of his sentence.
As soon as she was gone, Andy spoke. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say this whole thing was a set up. It’s too coincidental. What are the odds? Either you’re the luckiest guy on the planet, or the unluckiest. I’m afraid to find out which it is.” He shook his head. “Okay, your secret identity has been exchanging love letters with our landlady who hates you in real life.”
“Not love letters,” Paul protested. “Just book talk.” And he wasn’t convinced Alice hated him. Maybe intensely disliked him.
“I still don’t know what this has to do with your sudden crisis,” Andy said.
“Epiphany,” Paul said. “This kid understood that the story was central to a good game. You know a lot of people think it’s only the graphics that make a game successful, but you and I and every serious gamer knows the story is crucial,” Paul said. He had Andy’s attention now. Moving to Natchitoches for two months was a crazy idea and dragging Andy along was even crazier, but Paul knew who was the heart of ScreenStop. Andy believed that technology had to be as beautiful and distinct as possible, with the attention to detail only a consummate craftsman gave. And when they created a game, above all else, Andy believed in the story.
“Go on,” Andy said.
“He was talking about how Reena took down Commander Lorfan with the trap that promised revenge, knowing he would take the bait.” Paul shifted the water glass in his hands, watching the rings of condensation on the table overlap. “I realized that I am the Commander.”
Andy made a noise in the back of his throat.
Paul hurried on. “I’m doomed if I don’t get a handle on my need for revenge. I came here to show off to all these people who thought I wouldn’t amount to anything. I wanted to rub my success in their faces, make sure they saw how rich I am, how I don’t need them and their bigotry.”
“And how’s that going so far?” Andy gave him a sly look that was just short of a smirk.
“Pretty well. You know I got everything I wanted without even trying: the site, the building permit, everything.”
“And that’s a problem? I don’t see why we have to try to fix what’s not broken.”
Paul leaned forward. “If it’s for the wrong reason, then it could be a very big problem.” He thought back to Tater, the way he described the Commander. “Right now, I’m the guy everybody loves. I’m invincible. But give it a few weeks and I could be knee deep in small-town politics because I’m obsessed with being right.”
Andy nodded. “Okay, I can see it. So, you’re over it? We’re going home and just coming back for the opening?” He took a sip of his water. “I can’t say I’m complaining. This humidity is unbearable. I feel like I just stepped out of the shower, all the time.”
“No, my epiphany wasn’t that I shouldn’t care. It’s that I need to put my bitterness to better use.”
Andy raised an eyebrow. “Like building computer labs for all the schools.”
“Right.” Paul looked up, glancing around the crowded diner. He’d been walking around, his defenses up, waiting to run into people he used to hate and who had kept him from exceling. Now he looked to see if there was someone he used to know that needed help.
Andy sat back and let out a long breath. “I’ve always admired you, Paul. I admire your work ethic and your fire. You were determined to prove everybody wrong and it drove you to study the hardest, work eighteen-hour days, find a way around a problem when everyone said it couldn’t be done. I could count on you to never give up even when our CEO left us in the lurch, and our first big launch was ruined by that massive bug.”
“You think I’ve lost my fire? You think I’m going soft now?”
Andy shook his head. “No. Just the opposite. My dad worked two jobs to help put me through MIT. When I graduated I thought he’d be proud because I’d done what he never got to do, get a college degree. One night I asked him if he thought about those high school teachers who wouldn’t help him apply for college. I was sure he’d say he pictured them every time he got four hours of sleep or worked the graveyard shift.”
Paul could feel a pulse pounding in his head. He knew just what Andy’s dad had said. Paul thought of all those people who’d stood in his way. Every time he was too tired to go through some code that wasn’t working, he thought of them. And he gave it one more shot. Paul didn’t want those people to win. Even now, he could bring up the memory of their names and faces at the merest suggestion.
Andy leaned forward. “He told me he never gave them a second thought. The only thing that got him out of bed in the middle of the night was the idea of me getting to go to college.”
The words sank deep, resonating with truth. Paul stared down at his glass.
“Bitterness can get you pretty far in life. But love always takes you farther,” Andy said.
“You’re a wise man, Andy.” Paul heard the roughness in his own voice and cleared his throat.
“One who’s proud to call you friend,” he said. He reached out a hand and gave Paul a fist bump. “And now that we’ve streamlined your new plan to take over the city, I hope the food is on its way. I’m going to start eating the napkins soon.”
Paul snorted. Neither of them enjoyed heart-to-heart talks. This was about as deep as they’d ever get. But it felt good to know Andy understood.
Paul thought of what was coming that evening, that he’d decided to tell Alice he was Browning Wordsworth Keats. It would be perfect. He was sorting things out, making a new start. He opened his mouth to tell Andy, but the waitress arrived, bearing plates of hot food.
The food derailed his thoughts. By the time he’d worked his way through
half the sausage links and all the hash browns, Paul thought maybe he’d wait a little longer to drop that particular bomb on his friend. A guy could only handle so much drama in one day.
Chapter Thirteen
The march of science and technology does not imply growing intellectual complexity in the lives of most people. It often means the opposite.—Thomas Sewell
Alice pulled her hair back from her face and frowned at her reflection. The music was as loud in her bedroom as it was outside on the stage outside, with the first band starting off the night with a bang. She turned her head, squinting at her reflection. Mamere always said it was better to tame her curls than let them loose, but Alice felt as if her whole life had been spent trying to tame the untamable just because her grandmother had said so. She secured the top in a loose bun and let the rest fall around her shoulders. It wasn’t a great style for dancing with the swing and jitterbug moves, but she didn’t care. Not tonight.
Alice passed over the tube of beige lipstick and uncapped a bright red. Tonight was one of the few nights where she could really dress up, and it wasn’t for the shop or for a date. This festival connected with the deepest parts of her family heritage and she honored it the only way she could. She would overcome her introverted self, head to that dance floor, and show the tourists how real zydeco dancing was done. Her childhood friend Julien Burel would be there, along with his four brothers, and probably every one of his cousins. Alice never longed to be the center of attention, but tonight she would step onto that stage and dance for every member of her family that couldn’t.
She took a small photo from the front cover of her Bible and held it up. Mama and Papa smiled up from a porch swing, their arms wrapped around each other. Alice stared at their faces, letting their happiness ease the ache in her chest. They’d had a good life, surrounded by two of the largest Creole families in Cane River. Alice remembered family reunions that went on for days and days, with music and food to rival the festival that blared outside. She remembered her Mama’s green eyes and her Papa’s singing voice. She remembered how they whispered together in the kitchen and how her Mama blushed when they got caught kissing. Alice wondered if they’d known how blessed they were, or if it was just normal life for them. Day by day, doing what came naturally, loving each other, loving their kids.
When they’d died in that accident, something had changed. Her Mama’s family had blamed her Papa’s people for letting him drink too much that night. Her Papa’s family had blamed her Mama for saying she had to get home to her babies instead of staying the night with his folks.
Alice closed her eyes against the memory of the knock at her mamere’s screen door. It had been almost morning, the pale light of dawn filtering through the sheer curtains. Her brothers always got to sleep on the roll-away cots upstairs while Alice got the divan in the living room. She was the littlest and didn’t mind curling up tight so her feet didn’t dangle off the end. The screen was locked, but the door was left open to the night breeze. Alice remembered the creak of the boards as she tiptoed to the door, then the sound of her bare feet as she took off running for mamere when she saw the policeman through the screen.
In time, her brothers were flung far and wide across the country, as if they’d sat down and decided to each take a corner. And by the year Alice turned seventeen, she was the only one left at home with a grandma too old to make sure she was being raised up right. Mr. Perrault and his wife became her family. The bookstore became her refuge. For an angry girl who felt invisible and forgotten, they became her saving grace. She’d been born into a rich culture and a legacy of love. It was up to her to keep it alive.
Alice gently placed the picture back in her Bible and set it by her bed. She touched the rings at her neck, feeling the warmth of the gold under her fingers. She was a quiet woman who didn’t like to leave her store, who preferred her kitties to people. But tonight was different. She would dance tonight for her mama, for her easy laugh and deep green eyes. She would dance for her papa, for his singing voice and how he had an easier time speaking with French tourists than his cousins from Georgia. She would dance for her brothers, who never came home, and for her mamere who knew she was sad but couldn’t remember why. She would dance for the two families torn apart by a terrible decision. She would dance for what was left.
***
“Hey, you think this shirt is okay?” Paul smoothed down the white, Armani dress shirt and stood in front of Andy.
Andy looked up from his reading, confusion on his face. “You’re picking out clothes for Monday’s meeting? I thought you were scanning in that book of Christina Rossetti poetry.”
“I already did. Maybe the blue striped Lauren? That one is tailored. And you think tucked or untucked?” Paul frowned down at himself. “I thought I’d wear jeans, but maybe I should get the Westwood suit. With a nice belt. And the Gucci shoes. Or maybe just the slacks and the vest?”
Andy put down his book. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention a clothing brand before.”
“Maybe they don’t all go together. Should the shoes be the same brand as the pants?” Paul felt himself starting to sweat. It didn’t help that it was still at least eighty degrees and the humidity wrapped his skin like damp towel.
“What’s going on? Are we getting visitors?” Andy tilted his head. “Not that girlfriend who giggled all the time. I’m convinced she must’ve had some sort of compulsive disorder.”
“No, nobody’s coming up here. I’m just headed out to the festival.” Paul rubbed his hands together. His palms were sweating. He had no idea how he was going to dance with Alice without her noticing.
“And you’re just going out there alone?” Andy crossed his arms.
Paul shrugged. “I won’t be out late. I’ve got to be up for church in the morning. You already said you could hear it just fine inside.”
He stood up and stretched. “That was before I knew you had some hot date. I’d never let a brother go into battle alone.”
A grin crossed his face. He didn’t want to seem immature, but it would be a lot easier to have Andy along. If Alice didn’t show, he wouldn’t look so silly sitting there by himself. Plus, Andy knew all the tricks to escaping the awkward situations that popped up when folks knew you had more money than the president. He was sure they’d be approached at least once tonight by someone who thought Paul gave out money like business cards. “You’re just coming to watch me make a fool of myself dancing.”
“That, too.” Andy gave him a light punch on the arm and crossed the hallway. “Oh, and keep the jeans. This is some sort of hoedown right? Nobody will be impressed by your three-piece suit.”
Paul nodded. “You’re right. She said she was wearing boots, so I should keep it informal.”
“Who is? Back up a second.” He held up a hand. When Paul didn’t say anything, Andy went on, “Or just start here and let me be all confused. That’s fine. I suppose I’m confused about your social life most of the time and still manage to survive.”
“I don’t have a social life. Nothing exciting going on here.” Paul threw it out with a laugh. But Andy just cocked his head and fixed him with a stare.
“I can’t believe you’ve been here one day and you’ve already got a…” Andy’s mouth formed an ‘ohh,’ as he guessed the woman in question. “I don’t think that’s a wise idea, Paul. I’m surprised she even agreed to meet you. She doesn’t want our company here. Getting involved with her won’t make that go away. It will probably make it much, much worse.”
“Well, she doesn’t know it’s me,” Paul said. “Not the real me. She thinks she’s meeting Browning Wordsworth Keats.”
Andy stood perfectly still, staring at him. Paul recognized that look. It was the look Andy had worn when they realized a million video games had been shipped to Canada with instructions only in Chinese. It was the same look he’d had when one of their top programmers had dropped out of sight, only to resurface in their competitor’s company. “There’s nothing I can s
ay to convince you that this is a really bad idea?”
Paul straightened his cuffs and took a breath. “I think this will simplify everything, actually. I realized I was fighting battles on every side, when I don’t need to. I’m going to tell Alice who I am, she’ll realize I’m not out to destroy the world, and maybe we can open this store without any more drama.”
“Or she’ll feel betrayed by the way you’ve lied to her face, decide that you’re worse than she thought, and do everything she can to destroy you.”
Paul choked out a laugh. “Wait a minute. Alice just believes that our culture is dying and she wants to protect it.” He paused. “And she has a little block against technology for some reason, but I think she’s just not aware of how it can be used to her advantage.”
Andy raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if it’s because she’s Creole, like you, or because she’s beautiful, but you’re completely ignoring the problem here. Alice isn’t your great auntie who needs a lesson on using the Internet. People like Alice already know what’s out there and they’re actively fighting it. She’s not going to be impressed with a few flashy websites.”
“No, but she is impressed by Browning Wordsworth Keats,” Paul said. Except for the part where he ripped books apart. She would be livid when she discovered how the books get scanned and uploaded. But he didn’t want to think about that right now. “Listen, Alice isn’t a monster.”
“No, she’s a woman,” Andy said.
Paul frowned. “I never knew you to be misogynistic. She must have really rubbed you the wrong way.”
“My friend.” Andy clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m trying to say that if you were a woman, it wouldn’t be an issue.”
“I don’t follow.”
His friend looked him straight in the eye. “Are you telling me that you don’t have feelings for her? And you’re positive she doesn’t have any for you?”
Paul thought about the moment he’d opened her first email, of the picture she sent of her shelf, and of the time he saw her making faces at herself in the mirror. He thought of how he’d wanted her to dump the boyfriend, how his stomach dropped when he realized she was going to fight his new store, how he’d wanted to wrap her in his arms when he’d seen the tears on her face.
The Pepper In The Gumbo: A Cane River Romance Page 14