“Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you all for coming out. Again, the proceeds go to a good cause, the Benjamin Devereaux Scholarship Program. Last year, we were able to award a five hundred dollar a semester scholarship to a student from Bon Chance High. This year, we’re hoping to double that. And it’s because all of you come out to events like this.”
Carly raised the glass in her hand. “Before we announce the winner, let’s all cheers to Ben, or Snapper. Miss you, my brother!”
“Cheers!” the crowd said as they raised their drinks to the sky.
“Now, let’s see who the winners are.” Carly looked down at the card in her hand. “Honorable mention is the Moutons with pork tenderloin.”
Grace laughed when Carly rolled her eyes.
“Third place is Gabriel Angelle with brisket. Second place is Noah Devereaux with ribs.”
Carly paused to let the crowd applaud. “First place this year is a tie between Joey Delchamp and Kevin Douglas. Joey Delchamp’s entry was a pepper jack stuffed duck breast. Kevin Douglas’s entry was ribs. Remember, folks, all entries can be sampled with the purchase of a wristband. We also have a silent auction with items donated by the Redbird Inn and Bon Chance Catering Company. The Devereaux family would again like to express our appreciation for all of you coming out and showing your support.”
Carly smiled and raised her drink. “How about one more cheers for Ben and for the winners?”
The crowd cheered one more time, raising glasses to the sky.
Carly grinned. “Come on in, y’all. Let’s get this party started!”
Joey and Gabe high-fived each other and looked over to a glowering Denis Mouton, who had already started packing his things up to leave. Joey raised his beer in salute to the cop.
Gabe threw an arm over Grace’s shoulder. “Let’s go in. I’m ready for a celebratory drink.”
Grace smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”
After the winners were announced, the patrons of the bar with wristbands got to sample the goods from all the contestants, so a line had formed at the back of the bar where people usually danced.
The bar was fairly empty so Grace and Gabe found their normal spot. Ryder was already there, as someone had challenged him to a pool game.
Gabe and Grace sipped their drinks and Carly brought a round of shots. Grace sat quietly, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. At least she felt more relaxed after her nerves had been shot after her run-in with Denis Mouton. Her stomach still revolted at the thought of Brent coming later, but she’d cross that bridge if she had to. Who knew if that dickhead Mouton was just trying to get a reaction or what. She sipped the drink in her hand slowly and watched the guys play pool. Ryder was running the table. He had beaten Kevin, Gabe, and Joey, and was still playing.
Grace shook her head and sipped her drink. She was done with letting that douchebag pull her strings. Denis Mouton would not be ruining the day today.
“You ready to do some karaoke?” Gabe asked. The cook-off finished, the people who participated were either starting to pack up and go or staying to enjoy the party. The DJ who had been playing music in the background was now getting ready and setting up.
“Yes, let’s sing for Ben. What do you want to sing tonight?” Grace asked.
“How about we start off with “Cheeseburger in Paradise”?” Gabe said. “It was always one of Ben’s favorites.”
“Perfect. And fun,” Grace said. Soon, Gabe was handing Grace the mic. They took their places on the dance floor where they could see the monitor for lyrics.
Grace looked out at the crowd, feeling exhilarated from singing and performing again. She felt her heart beat faster, in a good way. She met Gabe’s eyes and smiled, and that faster beating heart of hers skipped one of those beats. She winked and was rewarded with a gorgeous blush.
Still smiling, she turned to look out at the crowd. Some had turned their seats to see them perform. Her gaze traveled through the bar.
Then stopped.
Brent Mouton smiled at her from the doorway.
Her heart pounded so loudly she could hear it in her head. She forced herself to look at the screen, to read the lyrics. She would finish this song, she would not look back out at the crowd. Or at Gabe, who would see the panic in her eyes. She sang the lines automatically, barely hearing her own voice over the pounding in her head.
Out, must get out, repeated in her head like the chorus to a bad song.
What seemed like a lifetime later, the chorus faded and the song was over. Still not meeting Gabe’s eyes, she handed him the mic and walked away, headed for the side door.
Brent stepped in front of her, halting her escape.
“You aren’t going to say hi to an old friend?” he said, leering at her.
“You aren’t a friend,” Grace said.
“That’s not what you thought that last night before you ran off. Left us high and dry. You think I’d let you forget that?”
Grace cut her eyes to the side and could see people watching, listening. She lowered her voice. “You bastard.”
He started to reach out to touch her arm. Grace jumped and jerked away.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Again, that’s not what you said the last time you saw me,” he said, leaning in a little closer. “Do you want to know what else you said?”
Grace’s palms itched with the desire to slap him across that smirk, across those lips that wouldn’t shut up.
Grace resisted the urge for violence, but she could not stand there anymore. Shoving him aside, she ran out the door.
***
Gabe
First panic, then anger flashed across Grace’s face as Brent spoke. This looked nothing like a pleasant exchange. In no way was Grace happy to see him. It explained her hesitancy to talk about New Orleans, why she was here, and why she was so angry. Whatever had happened between them had been bad.
Gabe rushed to follow Grace outside.
Brent started to go after her as well, only to be stopped by Ryder. Noah was behind them. Noah put a hand out to stop Gabe, shaking his head. “Watch him. I’ll go to Grace. She’ll be okay. I got this for now.”
Gabe frowned, but nodded. This was not going to end well. Not well at all. He stepped closer to this potential powder keg, in case he needed to try to intervene. With Ryder, sometimes there was no reasoning with him.
Ryder stood in front of the guy and drawled, “I don’t think she wants to talk to you.”
“And?”
Gabe exhaled a breath, wanting to throttle the guy himself.
“That means you aren’t going to talk to her.”
“Who are you? Her keeper?”
“It doesn’t matter who I am.”
Brent shrugged. “You’re right, it doesn’t matter. She’s just a cunt anyway.”
Ryder flicked the cigarette he’d been smoking on the ground. “What did you say?”
“She’s just a cunt.”
Ryder’s fist flew out, punching Brent right in the face. Brent stumbled back, hitting the wall. He shook his head a couple of times, then swung back at Ryder.
Ryder was ready. He dodged the punch, grabbed Brent by the collar, and shoved him against the wall, holding him there.
Gabriel held his breath, knowing this was a Mouton from Pointe Shade, knowing this could have serious repercussions for Ryder if things went badly. But Ryder was Ryder and didn’t give a damn.
Gabriel looked to Carly, who shrugged and said, “He won’t listen to me.”
Noah had followed Grace outside, and Joey would be no help at all. Joey looked like he was standing in line to whip Brent’s ass next, if Gabe didn’t get there first.
Kevin stepped up. He had probably talked down more than one angry Marine, and had for Noah at the spaghetti cook-off the year before.
“Ryder,” he said calmly, “I know you want to kick his ass. So do I.”
Ryder’s response was to push Brent against the wall again. “I am going to kick his
ass. There’s no want to about it.”
“Yeah, but if you do, and those ignorant-ass Moutons decide to pitch a fit, you could have more trouble than they’re worth.”
“I don’t give a damn,” Ryder said. He released his chokehold on Brent, only to grab him by the shirt. He shoved him against the wall again, this time so hard it shook the neon lights and pictures on the wall.
“Okay, but do you have to do it in here? Carly will fuss forever over the blood on the floor. How about we escort this piece of shit outside?”
Ryder released his hold on Brent’s shirt, but in a lightning fast movement, had Brent turned around, Ryder’s arm around his neck.
The crowd that had gathered parted as Ryder pushed Brent through the bar. The clang of barstools hitting the floor rang out in the now silent bar. Not stopping to open the door, he let Brent’s body push it open. Reaching the steps, he released his hold and Brent rolled down the steps and onto the parking lot. Ryder stormed down the stairs and stood above Brent’s form lying in the gravel.
“You gonna get up or lay there all day? I’m not gonna kick a man while he’s down, so I’ll wait.”
Brent scrambled backward across the parking lot.
“Go on, then,” Ryder said as he took a cigarette out of the pack and lit it. He drew on the cigarette while he watched Brent stand up slowly and limp to his car.
Carly joined him and handed Ryder a beer.
“As owner of this bar, you are not to step foot in this bar again,” she said to Brent.
Carly and the others stood on the porch and watched him drive away. When the dust settled, she said, “So much for no drama this year.”
She downed the rest of her drink.
***
Grace
Walking behind Ryder’s truck and out of the view of passersby, she fought to control her breathing. Sweat beaded across her forehead and down the back of her neck. She gazed up at the sky, hoping to find relief in the softly setting sun, but found none. She closed her eyes.
She heard footsteps approach. “Go away,” she said automatically.
“It’s me, Noah.” His voice was soft.
Grace’s eyes popped open and her head whipped around. “Noah?”
“Yes.”
He walked up slowly, stopping to stand beside her as she leaned against Ryder’s truck.
“You want to run, don’t you?” he asked.
Run? Then she realized that was exactly what she wanted to do. She wanted to run. Run down the beach. Run away.
“Can you do something for me?”
Unable to speak, she nodded.
“I want you to take a deep breath. While you do, tell yourself, ‘Breathe in, breathe out.’”
“Out loud?” she asked.
She heard him laugh lightly. “You can, or you can think it. Whatever you are comfortable with.”
Grace closed her eyes again and leaned her head back. She focused on deep breaths, telling herself, Breathe in, breathe out, as she did. Slowly, she felt the vise that had taken up residence in her chest loosen. Her heart stopped racing, as did her thoughts and her almost undeniable desire to run away.
Noah stood there silently as she slowly came back down to normal.
“How did you know to do that?”
“I’ve had my own experiences with panic attacks.”
“Panic attacks? I don’t have panic attacks,” she said.
Noah raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? Racing heartbeat, can’t breathe, want to run?”
“I’ve never had one before.”
Grace realized then that it was a panic attack, and it was a result of her encounter with Brent.
Damn you, Brent, she thought. Would she ever be able to sing again?
“You okay to go back in? You can stay out here if you need, but I should probably go see what’s going on. Do you want me to send someone out? Gabe?”
“I’ll come in,” she said, then stopped him, putting her hand on his arm. “Noah, thanks.”
He smiled. “No problem. And you know you can come talk to me anytime you need.”
“I may do that,” she said.
They went back in the bar only to find chaos. Emily was straightening barstools, patrons were either standing facing the door or outside. Grace watched as Noah walked over to Emily. He lowered his head to talk to her for a moment, then headed outside. Grace followed.
“What happened?” Grace asked when she got outside and saw Ryder, stiff with anger, standing with Gabe at the end of the porch. She could see soft tendrils of smoke from his cigarette waft up and float away.
“Let’s go get a drink and we’ll talk about it,” Carly said, crooking a head towards the bar.
“Hold on for a moment,” she told Carly. She walked over to the cowboy.
“Ryder?” she asked softly.
He looked straight ahead.
“You okay?” she asked.
He blew out a long stream of smoke and took a big swig of his beer, emptying it. He threw the empty bottle across the parking lot and into the grove of trees that surrounded the bar. Grace heard it shatter as it hit.
“It was him, wasn’t it?”
Grace swallowed hard as pain knifed through her gut. Ryder still stared into space.
“Yes,” she whispered, looking down. She saw Ryder’s hands grip the railing of the wooden fence. His knuckles were white.
He turned to look at her then, his eyes stormy. He wrapped her in his arms. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
Grace rested her head on his chest, and he dropped his head down, kissing her lightly on the top of hers. He held her for a long moment before letting go.
Gabe was next, wrapping his arms around her, only he didn’t let go. “How about we go get a drink?” he asked. “I think we could use one. And a shot, for us and for Benjamin. It is his day after all.”
Grace smiled. “Yes. For Ben.”
Arm in arm, the three walked into the bar.
Chapter Thirteen
Grace wound her way through the crowded Bourbon Street bar. The song playing was her song, and she should be singing it. The crowd would not move to allow her to the stage. No vocals played, just the music, waiting for her to sing.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Brent said, suddenly appearing out of the crowd and blocking her path.
“I’m going to sing.”
“No, you aren’t,” he said.
Grace tried to move around him, but he reached out and grabbed her arm.
“You aren’t going to sing. I won’t allow it.”
Grace pulled her arm back, trying to rid herself of his grip. It was too strong though. His fingers bit into the tender skin of her forearm.
She yanked her arm back, trying to break his hold.
“You aren’t singing again!” Brent said. The background music rose to a crescendo and he laughed. Then he disappeared into the crowd.
Gasping for air, Grace opened her eyes. Concerned, Furby stuck his cold nose to her cheek. Grace put an arm around him and petted his furry head.
“Breathe in, breathe out,” she said aloud, remembering what Noah had said.
The cook-off, Grace thought with a groan. After that fiasco, Grace had drunk entirely too much. She was still grateful no one had asked too many questions. Sunday had been spent mostly in bed nursing a hangover and fending off texts from Ryder and Gabe.
She grabbed her phone off the nightstand to check the time.
Five a.m. On a Monday. Not long ago, she would have been finishing up a gig and heading home to get ready for a run before sleeping the day away to start the routine all over again.
She may not have a job yet, but she could still run. She threw on some running clothes, leashed Furby, and took off toward the beach.
When she and Furby got to the shoreline, Grace took off running. Furby ran beside her.
As she ran down the beach, the endorphins kicked in and she felt the stress melt away. If she didn’t run, she would pr
obably lose her mind. She still did not have a job, nor did she have a place to call her own. She needed her own space. Joey was great, but he was also her older brother. She needed some peace and quiet.
She needed a job. She needed a purpose. She was floating around with no anchor. And Grace had never liked to swim. Floating around aimlessly had always seemed pointless. Grace needed to move. To do something.
She would check the newspapers later to see what was available. Try Craigslist. Maybe someone in St. Andrews Parish was hiring. Too bad it was close to the off season. She could easily find a waitressing job. Or bartending. Or something. Off season was a bad time to look for employment. After Labor Day, jobs in Bon Chance were virtually nonexistent. Singing or playing was out of the question for now. She might try a few practice runs, but as things were now, she couldn’t perform if she had to puke or run out the door every half hour.
So, she’d have to find something soon.
On her way back home, she saw Noah. He was standing at the edge of the surf, throwing a stick into the waves. Sadie, the German Shepherd, was the only one running into the water. Oscar, the mutant Boston Terrier with the big head, stood on dry land and would play tug of war with it when the other dog ran back with the stick.
“Mornin’,” Noah said with a nod as Grace approached.
“Morning.”
“How you doing this morning?”
“I’m okay,” she said.
Noah narrowed dark eyes at her. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He stared at her for a moment, silent, as if unsure if he wanted to say what was on his mind. He finally exhaled a deep breath and looked her in the eye.
“You know, Grace, I’ve seen you out here in the morning. Sometimes you run as if the hounds of hell are after you, you go until you can’t run anymore.”
He stopped again and looked out to the horizon. “There are some things you just can’t outrun.”
Grace’s eyes burned. Tears threatening, she looked away.
“You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to talk at all,” Noah said. He reached into the pocket of his hooded jacket and pulled out a set of keys. He twisted a small key off the chain and handed it to her.
Running On Empty (Fleur de Lis Book 2) Page 10