She knew. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. She had felt the same aches he had, suffered the same loneliness. That’s what he saw in her eyes—a kindred soul. He felt the unfamiliar urge to embrace the darkness they shared and fought it.
Maybe he ought to remind her that she was uncomfortable around him. It didn’t take much to get him out of his chair, he thought with disgust. Any excuse to walk close to her.
She watched him approach, and her arms automatically crossed in front of her. Yet she steeled herself, facing him with both wariness and determination in her eyes. “I’m not going to let you intimidate me into leaving,” she stated even as she swallowed hard when he stepped into her zone. “If that’s what you’re trying to do.”
“Tell me why it’s so important that you stay.”
“Because…” Her eyes were locked to his, and he realized that she was more beautiful than he’d given her credit for: wide cheek bones, glossy eyebrows, thick, wavy hair that would wind around a man’s fingers just so.
“Do I make you nervous?” he asked.
“Yes, especially when you look at me like you’re doing now.”
At least she was honest. “And how is that?”
“Like you want to eat me.”
He kept his expression perfectly neutral. “Maybe I do.”
“See, that’s just it. I don’t know how to act around you. I don’t know if I can trust you.”
“You can’t trust me.” She blinked at his response. “You can’t analyze me and you can’t fix me either.”
“You don’t know that.”
He’d expected her to deny that she wanted to fix him. “I thought you were here to help Brian.”
“I am. But…” Her gaze drifted to his mouth, then quickly back to his eyes.
“Rita…” Her name sounded right on his tongue, the same way her mouth had felt right moving against his. “I don’t need help. I’ll tell you what some of my clients tell me. I don’t want an upgrade. No new software or hardware. I like my system just the way it is. I’ve gotten way past whatever my childhood lacked, so stop looking at me with soft, mushy eyes.” He didn’t like the way her sympathy burrowed into tender parts he didn’t want opened.
She pushed up out of the chair. “I’m going to try to catch the parade.”
She didn’t look back as she walked across the courtyard and into the house. He knew that because he’d watched her the entire way. Watched the sway of her hips and the way she tried to keep her shoulders straight…the slight pause when she opened the door before pushing on.
Why had Brian done this to him, brought this warm, caring woman into his life and made him, at least for a moment, want to share that warmth? As if she could wave her magic wand and set his life straight.
He shook his head, returning to his chair and his beer. Even if he could share his childhood aches and pains with her, she couldn’t fix the fact that he wasn’t worthy of holding love in his hands again. Two people had died because of him. His family had almost gone broke because of him. He couldn’t hold onto his family, his friend, or to the woman he’d sworn to protect and let die anyway. Wasn’t he reminded of that every time he looked in the mirror and saw the scar across his chest?
He tossed down the last of his beer and listened to the remnants of the parade going by on St. Charles. That was what he’d always hated about Mardi Gras. All around him everyone celebrated, making his darkness even blacker in contrast.
Masses of people flowed toward Rita as she made her way to Napoleon Avenue. She arrived at the street to find the crowd dispersing and no sign of the floats. The sounds of cheering and music floated through the air as the end of the parade moved farther away.
She picked up a string of gold beads lying on the sidewalk. The two ends dangled, making her feel silly. She let the beads slip from her fingers and walked into the remnants of the crowd.
Shivering now, she turned back to the house, to Christopher. She’d stood up to him, was maybe a little too honest for her own good. She’d done well considering her startling realization: he was, indeed, part of the reason she couldn’t leave yet.
She didn’t want to help him; she needed to help him just as much as she needed to find the truth about Brian. She couldn’t explain it, but fixing him had something to do with fixing what was wrong with her.
Why didn’t he deserve redemption? I was born. No, it was more than that, darker and deeper than being the child who didn’t belong. Despite his dark eyes, despite his warning that he couldn’t be trusted, despite all that masculinity that he used to intimidate her with, she couldn’t forget that he had taken in five kittens. And he had come back for Brian.
The next morning Christopher let Rita take his car to the hospital, telling her he needed to catch up on his work. A new guard took a break when she got there and told her he’d sit outside the room until she left.
“I remembered the word ‘Sira,’” she told Brian. “But I don’t know what it is. I’ve looked through your things but can’t find anything. You have to help me. All I get are the scenes you showed me, and really, at the most unexpected times.”
But that kiss had been unexpected, too. She felt a need to confess her sin, to assure Brian that he was the only one who could guide her past her fears. She held in the words. He wasn’t the man she thought she knew. Or perhaps she only knew a small part of him. He’d never shared any of those inspirational messages with her, for example.
She squeezed his hand. “You’ve come to mean so much to me, yet I know so little about who you are. I want to understand your childhood, but Christopher is no help there. He’s so…so…” She didn’t know the word she wanted. “I don’t know, but he makes me…I…” At the end, she couldn’t put into words what he did to her, or how she felt about him. Probably she didn’t want to know.
A shuffling sound made her turn to the doorway. Trent was standing there, looking disconcerted at being caught. How long had he been standing there?
When he started to turn away, she said, “Hello, Trent. You can come in.”
He jammed his hands into the pockets of his linen pants and ambled in. “I was just stopping by… to see how he was.”
She looked at Brian’s monitors, but the numbers were stable. She turned back to Trent and studied his behavior. He was clearly nervous around her, or nervous about being there. He looked as though he was waiting for the right moment to bolt. She wondered what his feelings were toward Brian, but that was too personal to broach.
“How are things at the hotel? You mentioned how tough it was without Brian around.”
“We’re managing. We always do.”
“Always do?”
He shuffled his feet, the sound that had caught her attention earlier. “He wasn’t around on Mardi Gras day last year. I mean, he came in early in the morning, but left in the afternoon.”
“He took Mardi Gras off? Isn’t that the busiest time of the year?”
“He made sure we were covered.”
“Where did he go? It must have been important. Or did he just want to party?” But even as she said it, it didn’t make sense. She knew enough about Brian to know he wouldn’t be so cavalier about his responsibilities.
Trent shrugged. “He never said either time.”
“He did it more than once?”
“Twice. And probably this year, if…” He rubbed his nose and glanced away for a moment. “Actually, it’s not all that busy in the evenings, not as much as you’d think. We don’t let anyone but guests into the hotel, and most of them are out. Even Tammy escapes for a while to check out the crazies.” He gave her a faint smile. “All the crazies come out on Mardi Gras. The rest of the time they hide what’s underneath. But it’s always there. You know what I mean?”
“No, explain.”
He glanced at his watch. “I’d better get going.”
She wasn’t sure what to make of Trent. He seemed odd in his own right. Brian wasn’t much help, giving no indication of being
in his body. “Come back, Brian. I need your help. You haven’t left nearly enough clues to figure this out.”
As she talked to him, she kept the doorway in her peripheral vision. Aris was keeping a low profile. Rita had looked for her coming in, and when she left Brian’s room an hour later, she kept an eye out for her. Aside from the green eyes, though, she recalled few details about the woman.
She bid Brian goodbye and left. On the way to the car, she called Tammy Rieux at the LaPorte to see if she had time to talk.
“About what?”
“Brian. I’m trying to put the puzzle pieces together. I think you can help.”
“I don’t have…” Tammy seemed to reconsider. “Yeah, sure, we can talk. But not today. I’ve got two temporary desk clerks starting, three overbooked rooms, and two employees to reprimand. Don’t they know there isn’t time for a bootie call during Mardi Gras? Between that and disappearing employees, I’ve got my hands full. If you want to talk, come tomorrow at noon. We can get a quick bite.”
Rita drove back to the Garden District, relishing the shards of sunshine peeking through the clouds. A teal bicycle was parked outside the house. She wondered if she should knock on the door first. She opted for knocking, then entering. The scent of pine cleanser nearly knocked her over with memories of helping her mother clean houses on Saturdays. Hand your mama that bucket, would you? Don’t spill it. I know it’s heavy, just take your time.
A woman’s Cajun-spiced voice floated from the kitchen, breaking into her thoughts. “Well, baby, it ain’t the place to be anymore, let me tell you.”
The voice belonged to a sleek woman of about twenty-five who wore tight jean shorts and a pink T-shirt knotted in front. Bountiful curls bobbed from the top of her head where they were bound with an elastic. She wore too much makeup for this early in the day, especially for the task she was undertaking: cleaning the stove.
Although Christopher’s laptop computer sat open on the table with a screen full of codes, he was obviously more interested in watching the woman lean over the stove and lovingly rub a sponge over the surface. They both looked up when Rita walked into the kitchen.
That’s when she saw the woman’s eyes. She couldn’t help but flinch at the oddity of two yellow smiley faces staring from beneath fake eyelashes.
“Why, coo-zahn, you didn’t tell me your girlfriend was here,” she said, turning from him to Rita. “Where y’at, baby?”
Rita smiled uncertainly, not sure how to address any of that.
He answered for her. “She ain’t my girl, she’s a friend of Brian’s,” and to Rita he said, “Where y’at means how are you, hello, whatever. You’re supposed to say awright. Emmagee is Brian’s—what’s the politically correct term?”
Emmagee grinned, showing off a thick, lush mouth set in a delicate frame of honey-colored skin. “Hell, you know I ain’t politically correct. I’m his house girl.” At Rita’s confused expression, she said, “I clean his house twice a week. Everything but his bedroom; he always was a private boy.”
“How long have you been doing that?” Rita asked, wondering how she cleaned anything wearing five-inch heels.
“‘Bout four years, after his last house girl died, poor thing choked on a raw hot dog, don’t even want to know what she was doing with the thing down her throat all one piece.” Emmagee shuddered dramatically, holding out a hand ensconced in a pink rubber glove. “‘Round N’awlins, nothing surprises me anymore, but I don’t want to know no details, if you know what I mean. You’ll find out why, you stay ‘round long enough.”
“How do you know I’m not from around here?” Rita asked.
Emmagee rolled her eyes. “Baby, you got Northeast written all over that face of yours. Never-out-in-the-sun skin, uptight blouse buttoned to your chin, no-nonsense blue pants and the pumps to match. And that accent, whoo-ee.”
Accent? She didn’t have an accent, they did. Rita tried not to look down at her outfit, instead remembering the way it looked before she left her room. Conservative, professional. Her fingers automatically went to her collar, not buttoned to her chin, but close.
“You like my new contacts? Aren’t they just the coolest?” Emmagee asked, hardly failing to notice Rita’s gawking.
“They’re, uh, interesting.” They made Rita think of Aris’s eyes—phony.
“Got ‘em just for Mardi Gras. Makes me stand out in a crowd.”
Christopher chuckled. “You never had a problem with that, cherie.”
What was the deal, him using that term for this woman when he’d used it for her? Emmagee winked at him, then went back to her task, moving the sponge in circular motions while her perfect behind kept perfect time. Rita made a promise right then and there to start using her exercycle on a regular basis.
She forced herself back on track. “Emmagee, did you notice anything…different about Brian’s behavior before he fell?”
“Chris asked me that, too. I hardly ever saw the man. Seen Chris here more in the last few weeks than I ever saw Brian. I came in while he was at work. I got the feeling he wanted his nights to himself.” She lifted her hand again. “Like I said, I don’t ask for details, I just do my job.”
Emmagee called him Chris. Somehow it seemed intimate.
“Did you ever see Brian on Mardi Gras night?” she asked Emmagee.
“Mardi Gras night? I’m sure he was at work.”
“No, he wasn’t.” She looked at Christopher. “Trent from the hotel said he hadn’t worked on Mardi Gras night in the past two years. As far as he knew, Brian had planned to take it off this year, too.”
He said, “That’s odd. That’s the night he’d be the most needed.”
“And as dedicated as he seemed to be to the hotel, it had to be something big.” She hoped Tammy would know.
Emmagee nodded toward the refrigerator. “I made groceries if you’re hungry.”
Made groceries?
Christopher sent the file and collected several new emails before closing it down. Then he walked over to Rita and held out his hand. When she looked at him in confusion, he said, “My keys.”
“Oh. Sure, here. Is it okay if I use your phone to make a few calls? My cell phone died and I didn’t bring the charger. I need to let my clients know how to reach me in case of an emergency.”
“Sure.” He backed toward the door. “I’m going to cut for a while. We’re gonna have a crawfish ball tonight. Catch you later, Emmagee.”
“Sure thing, baby. Oh, sheeehit, hate when that happens.” She held up her gloved hand, her long nails poking through the fingertips. The effect was like a cat’s paw—a cat with green, purple and gold nails, that was. “Go through a box of these a week.”
“A crawfish ball? Do I want to know?” Rita asked when she heard the front door close. She hoped the disappointment that he had left her behind didn’t show in her voice.
“That’s what it looks like when there’s a whole pot of ‘em swimming around in the berling water. They’re really not swimming, of course, being dead and all.”
It wasn’t exactly an appetizing thought. “Where he’s going?”
“Maybe to check out the old neighborhood. We was talkin’ about the places that used to be hot way back when, how everything’s gone to hell.” She laughed, a throaty sound. “There was always fights, drugs, too much of everything. But now it’s different. The fights are meaner, the drugs are given to you when you don’t even want any. Guys’ll slip something in a girl’s drink jus’ to get her out of her mind. Can’t leave your juice alone for even a second.”
Emmagee stared off for a moment. “He seemed a little blue, you know. All the places we used to hang out, gone, crumbled away. When you stop lovin’ something, it jus’ dies. That’s what’s happening to places round here. My oldest brother Tommy was the first in our group to desert our city. Now most of ‘em are gone. My folks left by default; they died. Can’t hardly blame ‘em for that.”
“I’m sorry about your parents.” Rita couldn’t imagine C
hristopher looking blue or driving around town steeped in nostalgia. “Did you know him when he lived here?” She sat down in the chair he had vacated, finding it warm from his body heat.
“He would hang out with Tommy, go to the blues clubs. I used to tag along, back when they weren’t cardin’ everyone. Chris would sometimes dance with me. Was before I had these.” She gave her small breasts an affectionate squeeze. “I was jus’ a skinny kid back then, bit of a tomboy. I knew he was jus’ being nice, dancin’ with me ‘cause no one else would, but…” She fanned herself. “He was the thing, you know. I was too young, that’s what he always said. But when I was around him, I didn’t feel too young, know what I mean. He didn’t act like he was too good for anyone. He had it, f’sure, but he didn’t flaunt it.”
Rita poured herself a cup of coffee and sat back down. He still had it. She wasn’t sure what it was, but he had it. “What was he like back then?” He was Chris back then.
Emmagee stopped wiping down the inside of the refrigerator door for a moment. “He was tough and sexy and into trouble, but he had a good heart. Always help out a woman in need, no matter if she was trash or not, know what I mean? I used to think he was lucky, living in the Garden District and all.” She shook her head, making her ringlets bounce. “But he never seemed to want to go home. Something happened there, when he was younger.”
“You mean before Brian was supposed to be king?”
“Long before that. A boy died here. I don’t know much about it. It wasn’t something that came up in conversation. But he always had a shadow in his heart. Wish he’d move back to N’awlins. Ain’t been the same round here without him.” She dropped her sponge in the bucket of soapy water and picked up the bucket. “But something happened to him after he left here, too, something that took the life from his eyes. Maybe Carnival can heal him. It has a special kind of magic, you know. It can make a sensible person wild and free, and sometimes it can bring back the dead.” She shrugged. “I see Elvis every year. Worked for him, maybe it’ll work for Chris, too.”
What She Doesn't Know Page 13