I cried until I fell asleep. I didn’t wake up until I felt Cort cover me with a blanket and even then, I didn’t open my eyes. It was easier to pretend I was sleeping.
-10-
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.
Yet here I was, standing in front of Gabe’s enormous house on St. Charles Avenue. This whole outing was ridiculous and I knew it. Not only was I just married, it was the middle of the day and I was in a cheesy disguise—sunglasses and a wide-brimmed summer hat. I was nervous. Cort’s aunt owned a home just up the avenue, after all. Not that anyone could see me, but still.
I had to buzz the gate just to walk up to the front door, which was hidden behind a mass of foliage. St. Charles was a condensed and crowded stretch of luxury, but rich people always managed to hide away somehow.
And now Gabe was one of them.
I had no plans to do anything with Gabe, and that was the truth. Even though Cort had pissed me off the night before, and even though he wasn’t the lover that Gabe was, I wanted to be a good wife. When I said yes to Cort, I made a promise—and those aren’t broken so easily, even if I was more than tempted by Gabriel Augustine. Regardless, I needed answers. I deserved them.
I’d loved Gabe all my life and he’d left me with a note like we were seventh-grade sweethearts. I had long ago ripped and burned it, but I memorized every word, every letter: I have to leave, it said. I can’t explain. But I want you to be happy, so please don’t worry about me, and don’t try to find me. I can take care of myself. I think you know that. He signed it “G.” That was it. No I love you, even though we’d said it to each other thousands of times over the years. No phone number. Nothing. He didn’t even have the decency to give me the note himself. My father was the one who handed it to me. At first I didn’t believe it. I cast it off as some kind of stunt, but my father insisted it was very real. Gabe’s old place uptown was empty—not that there was ever much inside of it. His phone was disconnected. He was nowhere. Vanished, just like his mother had years ago.
I suppose I always figured he’d come back. It never really felt like he’d be gone forever. But I never expected that he’d come back like this.
When the front door opened, I expected it to be Gabe. In the back of my mind I even laughed to myself that it might be a butler with a bowtie. Instead, it was a maid wearing jeans and a T-shirt. She was pretty—dark skin, chestnut-colored hair, my age. I felt an odd twinge of jealousy that she was part of Gabe’s world. I hoped she didn’t tempt him, even if she didn’t intend to. There was a time when Gabe said that no other woman would ever turn his eye. Did he still feel that way?
It shouldn’t matter.
He was free to be with any woman he wanted, in any way he wanted.
I cleared my throat. “I’m here to see Gabe.”
She smiled, very friendly, and told me he was in the back of the house, in the sun room. She was holding a rag that smelled like lemons and pine. The whole house smelled like that, actually. It made me remember what his old apartment used to smell like. Cigarettes and sex.
I took off my hat and sunglasses before walking into the “sun room,” where Gabe was standing before a row of windows overlooking a sensational garden of bright flowers. He looked warm in the sun. I wanted to touch, go back in time.
Jesus.
“Hi,” I said.
He turned, startled. His mouth dropped a bit when he saw me. He looked at me from head to toe, like he was soaking in my image. His eyes never lingered on one particular spot of my body. He’d always said he enjoyed looking at every part of me, even the parts that I thought were less than perfect. Those are the most perfect spots, he’d once said.
“Hi.” His face brightened. He walked toward me and hugged me. Tight. The strength of his arms was overwhelming. I could feel the rawness of his muscles embracing the narrowness of my back and shoulders. I felt my heart jump when his newly shaven cheek brushed smoothly against my forehead. Gabe, Gabe, Gabe.
He released me, but didn’t go far. “I didn’t know you’d be stopping by or I would’ve done something,” he said.
Like what? I thought. Like sprawl out naked across the couch? Because that would’ve been nice.
God. I had to stop.
“I didn’t know I’d be stopping by, either,” I said, straight-faced. “I don’t want this visit to be inappropriate, but I feel like I deserve some sort of explanation.”
“Inappropriate?”
“Yes. Inappropriate.”
“Why do you need an explanation now? You’re married. The past is the past.” He walked over to the couch, sat down and patted the space next to him. The cushion was warm from the sun, which dazzled the room with its light. The garden was full of daisies. Because of me? I wondered.
“I know that,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t owe me something. Not after the way you left.”
He leaned forward on his knees, the same way he used to do when we’d spend days holed up in his old place and he wanted to tell me something serious. I’ll love you until I die, he’d once said, in that same posture.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Shitty timing. I shouldn’t have come back that way, or maybe I should’ve come back sooner. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back at all, but I had to. Even if it was just to convince myself that I made the right decision.” He swallowed. Looked at me. “I just wanted you to be happy.”
“By leaving me?”
“I never said it was a good plan. It was the best I could come up with at the time.” He inhaled. “You remember what our lives were like before I left, right? All that happened?”
“I remember everything we’ve ever done, Gabe.”
“It was the best decision at the time, for me to leave. Things were out of control. And I wasn’t the only one who thought so. I wasn’t the best choice for you. That was clear. And you would never choose anyone else as long as I was in your life. So, I did it for you.”
He was right—things had been out of control. In the months before Gabe left, we’d decided to move in together. But he was fired from his job and I knew I couldn’t support both of us, so we decided to wait until he earned a little more money. He started doing odd jobs for the Belroses—something he’d done, and despised, all his life, but always a good go-to job when he needed money—and was starting to pocket a decent amount of money for us. Nothing substantial, but enough to tide us over as he searched for solid work. He refused to work in a Belrose restaurant or bar again as an on-the-payroll employee, so he put in for bartending and waiter jobs around the city. This was New Orleans, after all; there was no shortage of places to wait tables or tend bar. But no one would hire him. At the time he suspected Cort had something to do with it.
He’s shut me out of the fucking city, Gabe said, after one of his failed interviews. It’s because he wants to take you away from me, I didn’t believe him. He was drinking all the time then and he was such a mess that I wasn’t sure if I would’ve hired him either.
Just before he disappeared, things went from bad to worse. Gabe was staggering home around two a.m. when he was attacked and robbed. He had nothing to take, of course, but they beat him anyway. He was hospitalized. Nearly died. Scared me to death. Other than his leaving, it was the worst experience of my life – made even worse by the fact that my own father seemed to have little sympathy for him. He said Gabe would always invite trouble because he never learned how to overcome his demons. He didn’t even see how hypocritical that statement was.
“He doesn’t have his head on straight like Cort does,” my father said. That’s what he always said.
But Cort didn’t really have his head on straight. He was just lucky. He never knew what it was like to earn your own money. He had a mother who pampered him with gifts. Gabe’s mother used to flick lit cigarettes in his face.
Thinking of this, I felt myself warm toward Gabe even more as he thought of the next thing to say. I almost reached out and touched his hand. Al
most.
“Nothing was going to happen for me while I was in New Orleans,” he continued. “I realized that when I was in the hospital, after that morning.” That’s what it had become to be known—‘that morning.’
“Why didn’t you tell me that, then?” I asked. “Why didn’t you just take me with you? I would have gone anywhere.”
“I know. That was the problem. You would’ve gone with me. And then what? You would’ve had nothing.”
“I would’ve had you.”
He looked down. “That’s not enough. Not in the real world.”
“I didn’t have anything else that mattered.”
“Yes, you did. You had Anna. You had your father. And you had—” His jaw twitched. “him.”
I looked around the sun room. That’s when I saw my painting. It was an enormous oak tree from Audubon Park, one the locals called the Tree of Life. I’d worked for hours on it, determined to get the shading, leaves and bulbous tree roots perfect. When I was done, I gave it to Gabe as a Christmas gift. This was the year before he left.
“Told you I had your work hanging up.” He walked over to it. I stayed where I was. “You know, after I left New Orleans I tried to draw. Just to feel close to you, I guess. But none of them were good enough to hang.”
“I guess it’s hard to find the right frame for a bunch of stick figures.”
He laughed. “Well, art isn’t one of my talents.”
“It appears that things worked out for you, anyway.” I tried not to let his laugh infect me. It used to be the most contagious thing in the universe. “You were worried we would’ve had nothing together, but you managed to find a lot of somethings on your own.”
“Life is full of surprises.”
“Where did all this come from? Are you involved in something—”
“Everything’s legitimate,” he said. “I can’t explain all of it to you right now, but you’ll have to trust me. Everything’s straight. I have a—uh—a benefactor, I guess you could say.”
I couldn’t hold back the laugh. “A benefactor? Seriously? What is this, 1893?”
“I can’t think of a better word for it. I’ll tell you more about it someday. Just not today. Besides …” His face softened toward me. He smiled. “… I just want to look at you. See you. Hear your voice.”
“I’m not finished yet.”
“Figures.”
“Why didn’t you come back sooner?”
“I planned to. I wanted to. And when I saw your wedding announcement, and I decided I had to. No more waiting. No more wondering if it was the right time. I had to come back. For you. And to take care of business.”
“So you decide to come back on my wedding day? Fantastic.”
“I saw Marty. He said you were happy—really happy, that’s what he said. And I didn’t want to—”
“Wait. You saw my father?”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t tell me.”
“I’m not surprised. Your father was always good to me, but he wanted you to marry Cort. He always did.”
“Cort’s been good to him.”
Gabe darkened. “Of course he has. As a way to get to you. There’s nothing honest about him.” His eyes gazed directly into mine. “I know my timing sucked, but your father told me you were happy and it was best not to bother you, and I believed him. Then I saw you, after your vows, and at the reception. I know you, Cat. You had your doubts.” He narrowed his eyes, studying me closely. “And you still do. Even at this moment.”
My heart dropped. I tried to keep my voice calm and even, but it came out trembling: “I’m married, Gabe. So if you came back for me, you made the wrong decision. It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late.” His voice deepened. “You think something as trivial as a legal contract would keep me from loving you, or you from loving me? I know you tell Cort you love him. Maybe you’ve even convinced yourself that you do. But I know the truth, because I know you. You may love him, but not the way you loved me. Not the way you love me still. And I love you, Cat. With everything I am—”
“Stop.” I took a deep breath. “Just stop.”
He didn’t look away. “I told you I had other business. The other business concerns your husband.”
I studied his face. “What were you and Cort talking about? I know it didn’t have anything to do with me.”
“You’re wrong. Everything I do has to do with you. And everything he does, for that matter. That’s why I’m out to get that motherfucker. His life is going to fall apart and when it does, I’ll be there, watching. He thinks he’s won. He drove me out of town, he has you, he has his money and his reputation—none of which he deserves. But not for long. You tell him that, if you dare to tell him you saw me.”
“I’ll never tell him.”
“You’re not going to tell him you saw me? That you came here?” He moved closer as I shook my head. “Why not?”
I stayed still and listened to my heart beat in my chest—so hard that it hurt. He was close now, so close.
He ran a finger against the curve of my neck. I shivered, wanting.
He leaned closer, so close that his breath tickled my ear. “Because you want me? Is that why you won’t tell him?” His lips brushed my earlobe. My body warmed. “I want you, Cat. Feel how much I want you.”
He took my hand and I knew that if I touched him the way he wanted, I’d never turn back. That couldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it happen. I refused to fail as a wife. I had already failed by coming here.
I took my hand back and stood up abruptly. I knew my face was pink. I knew that he knew I wanted him. I was being foolish and irresponsible. I could see clearly that he wanted me as I stood over him. I saw the outline in his pants—hard, full and ready.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” I said. “And you shouldn’t have come back.”
There was nothing else to say, so I said nothing else. I turned and left him.
-11-
“You won’t regret this, I promise.” Anna smiled as she rummaged through her purse for her keys, which she eventually dug out like a kid at the beach who finds a mysterious toy buried in the sand. Anna’s keys had more key chains then I could count. They were chocked full of memories—some from our senior road trip to Miami, others from some of our favorite bars or bands. The keys and chains jangled and clinked together as we walked down the skinny streets of Anna’s corner of the Quarter, looking for her car. Anna was a true-blue city girl. She only drove when she had to, so she could never find her car, which was pretty funny when you considered what it looked like: an old, red Volkswagen Cabriolet sticker bomb; its own tourist attraction, almost. She nicknamed it the Scrunchie.
After much pestering from Anna, I’d agreed to talk to Lady Angelique about my “fates,” as she called them. As I walked around to the passenger side I started to have second thoughts.
“Hey, do you wanna head out to that to that big movie theater in Metairie instead? We can grab some snowballs at the Bat Cave on the way,” I said.
“No fair, Cat. You know I love those lime green Riddlers.” She climbed in the driver’s seat and leaned over to unlock my door. “You aren’t getting off that easy, though. You’re going to see Lady Angelique. Don’t think you’re chickening out on me now.”
“I’m not chickening out. It just all seems a little ridiculous,” I said.
We pulled out of the parking spot and made our way through the tight streets of old New Orleans.
“Then there’s no harm in it, right?” Anna said, winking at me. “She’s not like Essie, I promise.” Essie was a con woman who worked the midnight shift in Jackson Square. She was Anna’s first experience with a psychic and the worst. When you grow up in the Quarter, you come to learn that there are legit people in the business with reputations to back them up, and then there’s the stuff for the tourists. But when you’re a kid it’s all mystical and nothing was more so than the psychics. Like many New Orleans street performers, Miss Essie cla
imed to be the true granddaughter of Marie Laveau, New Orleans infamous Voodoo Queen. Anna would sneak out to see her and Miss Essie would take her money day after day, night after night. Eventually old Essie got found out. In the Quarter, the neighborhood watches you.
We were now on St. Charles Avenue. Even with its roaring putter I loved riding around in the Scrunchie. I felt more relaxed than I had in months as I leaned back and watched the iron cast balconies of the Quarter give way to the downtown high-rises, which were then replaced by the grand old oaks that ushered in the finery of St. Charles Avenue, lined with the city’s most beautiful mansions.
Louisiana oaks were one of my favorite things to draw.
I didn’t even need to look out of the window to know Gabe’s house was getting closer. My body tingled with anticipation any time I knew he was near.
“I had lunch with Gabe the other day,” Anna said, as if she read my thoughts. “We went to Galtoire’s.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“That’s what I’m doing now.”
Sometimes Anna was insufferable.
“It was good to talk to him, Cat,” she continued. “Really good. Don’t let all that money fool you. He’s still Gabe, trust me. And leaving you was definitely the tragedy of his life.”
My body suddenly felt warm. “Is that what he said?”
“He didn’t have to. I felt it all over him. It fills the room.”
“Are you a seer now too?” I asked.
“Seriously Cat. He’s never stopped loving you. That’s obvious. But there’s something else going on too. I don’t know how to explain it. He’s definitely hiding something. He’s, like, sad and angry at the same time, but it’s not just about you—”
“Did you ask him how he got all that money?”
“Of course. But he didn’t tell me. He got all weird and changed the subject. I get the feeling something’s happened to him over the past few years. It’s not just the cash.”
An Easy Dare Page 8