by Avery Flynn
Which confused and terrified the shit out of him.
“I’m not sure yet. But I’m glad I have the Cup now, so I can send off my brother in one hell of a grand gesture.” With the comfort of Lisette’s hand on the small of his back, Kurt hefted the Cup over the guardrail and shook the ashes into the lazy current of the surprisingly blue Mississippi River. “Here’s the Cup you asked for, buddy. I hope you know I would’ve moved heaven and earth to get you anything you wanted. Always. Except for a date with that chick two doors down in the hospital. She was a downer. You didn’t need that.”
As the swirls of gray ash landed on the water, Lisette murmured, “You fought like a real champion, Jasper. I was honored to watch your spirit shine through every day.”
They stood, in silence, for a few more minutes. Kurt kept one hand on the handle of the Cup, unwilling to let go of that last connection with his brother. The other he curled tightly around Lisette’s.
Finally, Kurt said, “He’d want us to go back in and enjoy the party. Hell, he’d be running in circles and screeching at the thought of us missing a second of it.”
“I’ve got just the thing. You said I could bring in some extra entertainment. Well, I arranged for a fortune-teller. I’m sure the boys will all get promises that they’ll grow up to win a Cup for themselves. But I thought, for a lark, you could talk to him. Take a peek at what fate thinks you should do with your future.”
It sure fit the bill as pure New Orleans. He couldn’t walk down a single street in the French Quarter without seeing a neon sign for tarot readings. Or having some creepy bearded guy offer him a glimpse into the future from a dark alley. At least, he hoped they were fortune-tellers. “Why the hell not?”
They let Edwin know his precious Cup was still in one piece and then headed for a card table set up next to a float covered with alligators and pirates. Just the card table. No fancy trappings like a tent or a crystal ball or even a candle. “You sure this guy is legit?”
“I guess we’re about to find out, aren’t we?” she murmured with a twinkle in her eye.
Kurt didn’t believe in this stuff. At all. But it occurred to him that it was at least useful at giving people hope, if not actual answers. And right now? Lisette needed that more than he did. “You know what? You should go. He’ll tell you that you’ll have a new job by Labor Day and you’ll sleep better tonight.”
“But—”
“Go on.” He pressed her into the folding chair. “This’ll be great for you.”
The skinny man with greasy hair across the table pushed a stack of colorful, oversized cards at Lisette. “Shuffle three times, then cut with your left hand and pass to me.”
No hello, no patter—this guy better be the real deal, because he sure wasn’t a practiced huckster. Kurt sat on another chair, started to pull up to the side of the table, but was stopped by an outstretched hand. “Your energy will pollute the reading. Stay over there.” The psychic pointed to a chalk line drawn on the floor.
No style and bossy. Kurt was pretty sure that however much of his money Lisette spent on this guy, it was too much. Still, he held up his hands in apology and scooted back behind the line.
“Is there a specific topic you want to know about? Family, love life, job?”
“I guess whatever jumps out at you.” Lisette cut the cards and pushed them back across the table. “But, um, yes to the job.”
He nodded, took a deep breath with eyes closed and then swiftly divided the cards into three stacks before turning over the top one on each. “These represent your past, present and future. Past is Three of Swords, showing Betrayal. Present is the Tower, which signifies major upheaval. And the Future—”
Lisette waved her hand with a nervous laugh. “Wait. Go back. Betrayal? I think we need to start over or reshuffle or something. Nobody in my past has betrayed me.”
Clammy fingers of dread spread down Kurt’s back. What if this guy actually did know his stuff? What if he was about to out Kurt and the way he’d blocked her from getting the job with the Rage?
No.
No way could a stupid, shiny card with three swords piercing a bleeding heart end up leading a trail back to Kurt’s biggest regret of his lifetime. Biggest fuckup. Either way, only Kurt and Coach Courage knew the truth. His secret was safe.
The greasy blond hair hid the psychic’s face as he bowed his head for a moment. He reached out to cover Lisette’s hand with his. His body jolted as if taking a sock to the gut. Then he straightened up. “This is definitely about your job. You had one, or were about to get one. I see a hawk swooping in, taking it from you with a snatch of its beak. The hawk betrayed you.”
“Well, I don’t work in a zoo. Or an aviary. The only hawk I know is that handsome man over there…” Lisette’s voice trailed off as she looked over at Kurt.
Something in his face must’ve given him away. Did panic turn your face red or white, he wondered? The psychic hadn’t identified him by name. Not a hundred percent or anything. If he laughed this off, called the guy a huckster, everything would be fine.
Kurt had hidden this secret for almost three weeks. The closer he got to Lisette, the harder it was not to blurt it out along with a thousand babbled apologies. The only way he’d been able to live with himself was by trying to come up with a solution. He hadn’t given up since she turned down the job in San Francisco. Kurt had calls out to four different PT clinics across New Orleans. One of them was bound to hire her based on the glowing recommendation of the star of the Rage, right? He could still fix this. And she’d never have to know.
Except that he couldn’t flat-out lie to her. He simply couldn’t. And that look in her caramel eyes, behind the confusion, was definitely a question.
Kurt stepped closer. “Before you finished your interview with the Rage, I asked Coach Courage not to hire you.”
“What?” Her big, dark eyes rounded in confusion. Lisette even looked over to the fortune-teller and back, as if checking that he’d heard the same thing. “Why would you do that?”
The explanation rushed out of him. “I thought you were just shopping around. You were a great hospice nurse. I never imagined that you would’ve quit without another job already lined up.”
Her words, in contrast, came out slowly. Heavily. “I had to, to get recertified in a new concentration as fast as possible. To get away from a job that was slowly killing me.”
It stabbed at his heart to hear Lisette say that. To know that she’d been so miserable. And he’d just piled on, giving her stress by extending the time she was stuck without a job. “Yeah, I know that now. But I didn’t then, or I wouldn’t have stuck my nose in where it didn’t belong. It was so great when we ran into each other. I just wanted to see you more. I wanted you to help with the party. Figured that if I hired you between patients, you wouldn’t lose any work and I’d get—well, it made sense at the time.”
“It made sense?” She shook her head, dark hair spilling across her shoulders. “To obliterate my chance at gainful employment? My best chance at being able to pay rent and afford groceries and not have to go back and work in a field that made me cry every night over the lives I literally watched disappear?”
“I’m sorry.” Shit, he should’ve led with that. But he thought that if he explained, if he explained well enough, maybe Lisette would understand. Kurt dropped to his knees at her side, grabbed her hands. “Jesus, I’m so sorry, Lisette. I didn’t mean to screw things up.”
“Screw me over, you mean.” Her face went dead white. “Oh my God. Is that what this past week has been about? Were you screwing me as a distraction? Or as a pity fuck?”
“No! No, of course not. I didn’t know we’d get serious. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell of that happening, actually. I mean, I wanted you. I wanted—”
“You saw what you wanted and took it, regardless of how that would affect me.”
It wasn’t supposed to affect her at all. It was supposed to be a win/win for both of them. Then it all t
urned sideways on him. “Look, I’ve tried to fix it. I’m still trying to fix it.”
“The job with the Quakes. That’s why you pulled those strings with your old team,” she accused.
“I get that it isn’t right. That it’s a bad fit. But I’ll find you something here. Any day now, I should hear back. I’m pulling strings all over the city.”
“That’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? You used your fame, notoriety, your position”—she spat out each word as if it tasted worse than expired milk—“the very things you say you don’t want and don’t care about, to manipulate me and my career. You say you don’t want it, but you don’t know how to live without it.”
“You’re wrong. My job with the Rage doesn’t matter. Not like you do.”
“Not anymore.” She stood, her chair clattering to the ground behind her. Lisette pointed at the middle card in the trio. “What did you say that Tower means?”
The fortune-teller tapped it with his middle finger. “A major upheaval. It shakes your foundation and makes you question what you think you know.”
With a harsh, bitter laugh, Lisette said, “Spot-on. Give yourself a big, fat tip. And as for you, Kurt…well, you’ve taken enough from me already. You can’t have anything else.” She raced to the nearest door, the one leading away from all the kids and the few parents who’d noticed the unfolding scene and started to stare.
Kurt didn’t know what to do. Rushing after her didn’t seem like the answer. She needed time to cool down. And he needed time to figure out a better way to apologize. Grasping at the only straw in sight, he grabbed at the last card. “What is this? What’s her future?”
“The Nine of Cups. Happiness and satisfaction in all areas of life.”
Shit. The creepy-good psychic had been dead-on with the first two cards. Was this proof that Lisette was better off without him? That her future was full of happiness because he wasn’t in it anymore?
Kurt felt like he’d been checked from behind—since he sure as hell hadn’t seen this coming—by an entire hockey team. Having them wale on him with sticks and fists would definitely hurt less than watching Lisette run away from him.
10
Lisette wore the same outfit she’d worn the first time she interviewed with the Cajun Rage. A white, cap-sleeved blouse paired with a black pencil skirt. Except today she’d added the accessory expression of determination tinged with righteous indignation.
Kurt might have broken her heart…heck, there was no might about it. His manipulation, his choice to continue to lie to her every single time they’d been together by not coming clean—that snapped her heart in two as handily as if he’d stomped his skate blade across it.
She’d assumed from the start that they couldn’t have a future. Was quite certain that his grief over Jasper and her part in easing his passing would prevent anything resembling a relationship. Until, suddenly, that hadn’t seemed to matter. But Lisette had never once thought that Kurt would be the reason they didn’t succeed. Not handsome, caring, down-to-earth Kurt. Not Kurt who swore up one side and down that he didn’t want or need the perks and fame of being a pro athlete.
The ghost of Jasper hadn’t broken them up. No, that was all Kurt’s doing. Kurt, who assumed that his privilege gave him the right to get his way. Period. It filled her with rage just to think about it for the twentieth time in the last two days.
Of course, the rage was tempered by pity, that he’d ruined what he’d claimed to be the first real happiness he’d felt in a long time. Not to mention the wistful sadness for what might have been between them.
Oh, and that aforementioned heartbreak crowded in there, too.
So her emotions were all over the place. But her focus was a spear with a needle-fine tip. Lisette looked over at her soon-to-be brother-in-law. “Are you ready?”
“To stand in a corner and look menacing? Sure.”
Riiiight. Sean Yamamoto’s knobby knees poked out from beneath unfashionably long cargo shorts. His glasses were hipster-black horn-rims, and a ridiculous number of black hairs stood straight up from his cowlick. At best, he looked unassuming and adorable. Until you realized there was a whip-smart brain churning beneath the cowlick.
Because her sister would kill her if Sean missed the wedding for any reason whatsoever, Lisette paused to ask, “Is there any chance you could get in trouble for this?”
“Nah. You know my motto. Livin’ on the edge.”
“Of what? A desk chair with duct tape around an arm?” The teasing took up the rest of the time required to walk the length of the hallway. Bad country music played from a speaker overhead. And the whole place smelled more than a little like a locker room. Lisette inhaled deeply. She hoped that within less than half an hour, she’d be able to say this was what triumph smelled like.
Their escort knocked on the door, then pushed it open without waiting. Lisette hesitated for a split second. Thought about how this could be the stupidest thing she’d ever done. How she might very well antagonize a very powerful person in the city where she intended to stay put.
Nope. Kurt had shattered her heart, but she refused to let him shatter her dream. Her heels clicked—menacingly, she hoped—against the concrete floor as she strode right up to the edge of the metal desk. “Thank you for seeing me, Coach Courage.”
The frowning man jerked a thumb at Sean, who hovered about an inch over the threshold. “What’s going on there? You bring your lawyer?”
“Worse—a Times-Picayune reporter.”
His eyebrows shot up to meld with the frown lines across his forehead. “This isn’t an interview, Miss Broussard.”
“You’re right. Because I already had my interview with your team. An interview that I aced. An interview that was completely ignored because Kurt Lundquist decided to swing his balls around and mess with my life. I’m sure you don’t want the fine people of New Orleans hearing that you let your players dictate who you hire.”
It was a subtle threat. Hopefully, it would be enough. Because Lisette didn’t want to cause trouble. She just wanted a job.
He jerked his chin at Sean. “Are we on the record?”
“Not yet. Not until Lisette says so. I’m just her backup. For now.”
“Look, Miss—”
It took one finger-point to cut him off. Because Lisette had realized this was a little bit fun. She knew she was in the right. And yelling at the coach was a somewhat decent replacement for yelling at Kurt. Which wouldn’t get her anywhere.
“I’m great at my job. I’ve got the references and credentials to prove it. That should be all that matters. I refuse to let Kurt’s whims chart my path.”
The coach slammed a hand on the desk to stop her. “But he got you the job. An hour ago. I was about to draft the offer letter for you.”
Talk about taking the wind out of her sails! As thrilled as she was to hear that she did, indeed, have the job, Lisette was confused. “Seriously? But…this isn’t right. I’m not a pawn that Kurt can just shove around.”
“Do you still want to keep arguing with me, young lady? Or just shut up and show up at personnel tomorrow at ten?”
Yes. Definitely, yes. As long as she’d be working with people who respected her and didn’t doubt her ability because of whatever Kurt had done. “I don’t want you to feel coerced. Or worry that I can’t treat your players right.”
“I did Kurt a favor the first time, when he asked me not to hire you. This time, I did the Rage a favor when I heard him out about why I should hire you. Then I emailed your references and talked to the rest of the medical staff to be sure they were on board. You impressed everyone during your interview. And we haven’t found anyone as good since then to fill the position. So it is yours, fair and square. Feel free to print that in the Times-Picayune.”
“Feel-good stories aren’t really my thing.” Sean was great with the written word. Less so with interpersonal communication. Aside from when he made googly eyes at her sister.
Lisette beamed at t
he coach. “Thank you. I promise you won’t regret it.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
She snatched at Sean’s sleeve and hustled him from the room.
“That went well.”
Lisette sagged against the wall. Without righteous indignation to fuel her, the exhaustion of two sleepless nights crying over the breakup hit her like a brick to the head. “What just happened? How did…why…what did Kurt do?”
“Maybe you should ask him.”
“Sean, last night you agreed with Noelle that I should never speak to, and I quote, ‘that rat-bellied snake of a liar’ ever again.”
He put a skinny arm around her shoulders. “Snakes can shed their skin. The man helped you get a job, Lisette. Your dream job. Isn’t it worth hearing him out as to why?”
Kurt paced beneath the Spanish moss dripping off the oak tree overhead. Would Lisette show up? She didn’t owe him anything, least of all the chance to explain. Would she think it was too much trouble to come all the way out to City Park? At dusk?
Yeah. It probably was asking too much. But Kurt figured he had exactly one shot at this, so he was loading up with as much romantic ammunition as possible. It was what Jasper would have done. The kid had always stockpiled stuff, like soldiers in the game Risk and putting houses on even the crappy, cheap-ass properties in Monopoly. So if Jasper was somehow watching, or at least pulling for him, he’d approve of Kurt’s approach.
Not that he actually thought his brother was a ghost. Not even here in New Orleans, which spilled voodoo and magic and ghosts out of every third doorway. But Jasper was what brought him and Lisette together. So Kurt felt his presence, in some weird way. Hoped it’d bring good luck.
“Hello.”
The soft voice had him doing a one-eighty. Which was a hell of a lot harder on grass than on ice. “Lisette. You came.”
“Guess so.” She tightened both hands on the handle of her big straw purse, holding it in front of her like a shield. “I mean, I almost didn’t leave the apartment. Then I almost turned around twice on the road and once on the path into the Oak Grove.”