“Thanks,” Gabe said, chuckling. “But I—”
His eyes suddenly shifted and narrowed at the window behind me, the one that faced Bienville. Anna and I both turned around to see what he was looking at.
It was Cort.
He had two men with him, neither of which I recognized, and he walked in the center of them like a self-proclaimed king, with his blonde hair brushed and waved—the way he used to wear it when he was a bachelor.
The group of men stopped on the sidewalk, just under the new Bell of Bienville sign. Cort motioned toward the restaurant. The men nodded.
I groaned.
“What’s he doing here?” Anna said.
“He’s about to be laid out on the fucking street, that’s what,” Gabe said.
I put my hand on his arm. “No, Gabe. Don’t. Not with all your backers here.” I scanned the room for Delilah, but didn’t see her anywhere. “Maybe you can send Delilah out to see what he wants.”
“I’ll find out right now.”
Cort and Gabe facing each other on Bienville Street, in the middle of his pre-launch party, with all his financial backers in tow, was a shitty and stupid idea, but I didn’t have time to stop him before he went outside. I told Anna to get Delilah, then followed him.
When Cort saw us walk out together, he smiled. “Aha, it’s the happy couple. How fucking nice.”
Gabe unbuttoned his suit jacket, glared at Cort, and scanned the two beefy men with him. One was tall and pock-faced, the other short and bearded. Both of them were red-faced from the heat. They were definitely not part of New Orleans society.
“I hope you’re not thinking about walking into my restaurant,” Gabe said. “Because if you do, I’ll break your fucking legs.”
Cort glanced at the men around him. “I don’t think so.”
“It makes sense that you would bring a few bodyguards with you, being the pussy that you are. But I’m not worried about them. I’ll still break your legs. And theirs, too.”
“They’re not bodyguards, actually,” Cort said. “They’re with the health department.”
Oh, god.
The calm before the storm, like Lady Angelique had said.
Now the storm was beginning to stir.
“What kind of business does the health department have with a restaurant that hasn’t fucking opened yet?” Gabe said, unfazed.
Cort leaned toward the window and peered in at the guests. “Looks like you’re serving food already. So the health department has a lot of business here, as far as they’re concerned. Right?” He looked at the men. They nodded.
“The food is free. The alcohol’s free. I can afford to do that for my guests. It’s called good management. Maybe if you had your own management skills your restaurant wouldn’t be such a shithole.”
Cort’s face darkened.
“We’re here to do an inspection,” the bearded man said.
“Your face will be inspecting the concrete if you don’t fuck off. I don’t have time for this bullshit.”
“Looks open to me,” Cort said.
“The health department can inspect a business any damn well time it pleases,” the bearded man said.
“Oh, really?” Gabe removed his jacket and handed it to me.
“Gabe …” I said. “Not here. Not now.”
Cort raised his eyebrow, but didn’t move.
The men stepped forward. The tall guy walked toward the door.
Gabe held up his hand. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
The guy was right next to me. He smelled gross—like sweat and stale Camels. He leered at me.
“Problem?” I said.
Gabe shoved the bearded man aside, planted his open hand on the tall guy’s chest, and shoved lightly. “Get away from that door and don’t you fucking look at her again.”
I glanced back at the window. The crowd was drinking, eating, laughing. No one was paying attention to the street. Yet.
Where are you, Anna? Delilah needed to be outside. Now. Cort and Gabe needed some kind of buffer before they start pummeling one another on the sidewalk in front of everyone.
“Yeah,” Cort said. “She’s nothing but a whore anyway.”
After that, things happened fast. Gabe knocked aside the tall guy and punched Cort in the face. A dark, frightening splash of blood bloomed across his white skin. It was hard to tell where the blood was coming from, but when his hand flew to his face and away in shock, I saw that it was his nose. He stumbled backward in confusion and pain. The two men rushed at Gabe, who was shouting, “If you ever speak to her again, I’ll fucking kill you!”
Heads turned from the other side of the glass. Two or three at first. Then five, six. Uncle Jacks was on the stage with the band, trying to divert attention away from the street, but the real show was outside. Gabe knocked the tall guy to the ground while the bearded man went for his neck.
Finally, I saw Anna and Delilah cross the room. A cluster of guests followed them outside.
I felt sick. I was scared shitless and holding a martini in one hand and Gabe’s jacket in the other. Cort’s white shirt was saturated with blood. He kept saying Ohgod, my nose, Ohgodithurts, over and over again. He sounded like a wounded kid on a schoolyard.
Delilah wedged herself between Gabe and the men. When Anna saw Cort’s face, she stepped down from the curb to look for a cab.
“What’s going on out here?” Delilah said. She looked at the bearded guy. “Dick? What the hell?”
At first I thought she just calling him a dick, but then I realized that was his name.
“Miss Belrose,” Dick said, his chest heaving and his face even redder. “Just a misunderstanding, that’s all.”
Cort’s wailing cut into the night—Ohgod, my nose, Ohgodithurts. Tourists pointed and whispered. One laughed. The laugh was louder than anything—louder than the accordion playing down the street, the vague thumping of house music from one of the Bourbon Street clubs, Cort’s wailing, and the fading jazz music drifting out of the new Bell’s. The laugh was short, but it landed sharply on everyone’s ears. Groups of tourists had gathered to watch the fight, so it was hard to tell where it came from.
“What are you fucking laughing at?” Cort yelled to the unseen gawker. He looked at the blood on his hand. It dripped onto the cement. His voice sounded garbled under the weight of his broken nose. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a gun and aimed it at Gabe. Someone shrieked, another yelled gun!, and the tourists took off running.
I couldn’t breathe.
The gun was pointed at Gabe. My Gabe.
I see a baby, but I also see the end of a life in your circle.
Oh, god.
No.
“Cort—” I said. “Don’t—”
“White trash,” Cort said, to Gabe. The blood was disgustingly thick on his face. “You always have been, always will be. Just like your whore of a junkie mother. You think you can come back here and fuck my wife and my business? I own this city.”
Someone said Now, Cort, let’s be reasonable, but it sounded far away—a muffled voice in the background of my nightmare.
“You don’t have the balls to pull that trigger,” Gabe said.
Then: A pop. My heart stopped beating. People hit the ground. But not Gabe. Not Delilah, either. She flinched, but it wasn’t a gunshot. It was my martini glass. I’d dropped it. My feet were surrounded by broken glass.
Thank God, I thought. Thank God.
“Cat—” Gabe started. I knew the rest of the sentence without hearing it. Cat—are you alright?
I tried to say I’m okay, but there was a second pop and I hit the ground. It was the gun this time. I could smell the smoke. Heard screams. Panic. Gabe. ohgodheshotGabe, ohgodheshotGabe, I thought, wondering why I couldn’t get up to help him.
Then I realized: It wasn’t Gabe who’d been hit.
It was me.
-28-
When I opened my eyes and saw Delilah, my first thought was: I’ve died and gone
to hell. But Gabe was nearby. I could sense it.
“Her eyes are open,” Delilah said matter-of-factly, in the same tone she used to order drinks.
Gabe practically pushed her out of the way. “Hey,” he said. “You’re in the emergency room. How do you feel?”
“Exhausted,” I said. Anna was in the room, too, although it was more of a giant space divided by curtains than an actual room. “What happened?” Other than a dull burning sensation in my arm, I felt fine. Just a little groggy, like I’d been asleep for days.
Turns out, it had only been an hour.
“My jackass brother fired that gun in the air and you were grazed with the bullet. Then you passed out,” Delilah said. “Lucky for you he was always too scared to go to the shooting range with my father. Otherwise he may have actually hit something.”
“Oh, Delilah, shut up,” Anna snapped. Her eyes were red and swollen. “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s not like she’s dead. Besides, this incident has the potential to stir up some great publicity for the opening.”
“Can both of you do me a favor and get out?” Gabe said.
When they were gone, he leaned over and kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. I got cocky and he fired.” He buried his face in my hair. “I was so scared, Cat. I thought you were hit. Jesus. I’ve never been so fucking terrified in my life.”
“What happened to Cort?”
“The cops showed up a minute later and tackled the sorry motherfucker. I figure he’s crying in a jail cell right now, holding his broken nose.” He pulled a chair as close to the bed as humanly possible then grabbed my hand and squeezed. It sent a shot of pain up my arm. “Next time I see him, I’m—”
“No more,” I said. “This has gotten too crazy.”
We sat there, silent, listening to coughs and shuffles and murmuring on the other sides of the curtains. I had no idea what time it was, and only a foggy recollection of dropping my martini glass. I did remember that strong martini, though. It explained my liquor-induced nausea.
“Your pre-launch—”
“Don’t worry about that. It was just a little ass-kissing party. It doesn’t matter. What matters is you.”
“I’m fine. Really.” Other than some confused aftershock, I didn’t feel any different. My right arm was bandaged just under my shoulder and I was tired as hell, but that was it. “Like Delilah said, it’s not like I’m dead.” I smiled. He didn’t.
“She’s a bitch.”
“I know.” I stretched my neck. Another shot of pain went up my arm. “I can’t believe this. The Belroses are gonna flip their shit. I wonder what’ll happen to the Blue Note now that—” I stopped. Oh, god. My father. What would happen to his job at the Crescent? I looked around the ER. “Did anyone call my dad?”
“Yeah. Just a few minutes ago. He’s on his way, I think.”
I felt like throwing up.
I needed to get to Gabe’s. I needed to cover myself with his down comforter and inhale the smell of his crisp, clean sheets. I needed to sleep, disappear, and wake up to three years ago.
“How did things get so fucked up?” I said.
He kissed my hand. “I don’t know.”
“I wanna get out of here.”
“Let’s wait for the doctor. He should be coming right back—.”
“This is an emergency room. No one ever ‘comes right back.’ I’ll be here till I’m gray.”
Gabe considered this. “You’re right. I’ll go get him myself.”
“No. I want to leave now.”
“You can’t just—”
I was still wearing my dress. My shoes and purse were next to the bed. I wasn’t hooked up to any IVs and I hadn’t been fatally injured.
“Yes, I can,” I said. “And I will.”
Gabe stood up. “Whatever you say, your highness,” he said, offering me his hand to help me up—just like he’d done when he was eight and got that scar.
I put my hand in his.
“Take me home,” I said.
-29-
When I walked out of Keith Strickland’s downtown office for the last time four weeks later, I felt like I was stepping out of an old life. It would take a few more weeks for the divorce to be finalized, but Cort and I were now legally separated according to Louisiana law. The state’s community property clause entitled me to fifty percent of Cort’s assets—a hell of a lot of money—but I turned it down, despite Strickland’s urgings. He shot you for fuck’s sake, he kept saying. But I didn’t want anything from Cort. I just wanted to be free.
And now I was.
They say divorce is like a death. I wondered if that’s what Lady Angelique’s card meant. She’d seen an impending death in my circle that would bring “tremendous change.” Maybe she meant the divorce. It was a sorrowless death on my part, but a death nonetheless. Maybe the card wasn’t meant to be literal.
Maybe.
Or maybe it meant the death of my relationship with my father. He wasn’t on Cort’s side anymore—how could he be?—but he wasn’t exactly on my side, either. One of Cort’s cousins—an older guy named Stephen—had taken Cort’s place at the Blue Note, but my dad had kept his job at the Crescent. Personal is personal and business is business, he told me. Gabe offered to set him up at Bell of Bienville, but he refused. It was crazy to think, but I still sensed resentment from my father about how things played out. Like it was my fault. Mine and Gabe’s; maybe even Helene’s. She was starting to show and she had no problem telling people who the father was. I think she was waiting for someone in the Belrose family to take responsibility.
She was waiting for something that would never happen.
When I got to Gabe’s, he was ready with a bottle of bubbly.
“Papers signed?” he asked, leaning against the banister of the staircase just beyond the foyer. Looking gorgeous, as always.
“Papers signed.” I tossed my keys and bag aside.
“This is a momentous month, Miss Martel.”
I slipped my arms around him. He kept one hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle and the other on the small of my back.
“Yep,” I said. “I’m legally separated and you’ve got the official grand opening coming up soon.”
“Not to mention a little lawsuit of my own.”
“What do you mean?”
“My lawyer called today. Your ex-husband is suing me.”
“Suing you? Why?”
“For breaking his nose. He wants me to cover his medical expenses.”
Figured. The man fired a gun at me and now he was suing Gabe for punching him in the face.
“It seems a little fucked up that he spends less than forty-eight hours in jail for firing into a crowd and then sues you.”
“God bless America.”
“What’re you going to do?”
Gabe shrugged with one shoulder. “Pay it. It’s not like I’m innocent. I did break his nose. And I’d do it again.” He kissed my forehead. “He’s even suing me for the cost of his clothes.”
I’d heard through Jules that Cort’s injury was pretty bad. The broken nose had bruised the underneath of both of his eyes and he had to wear a splint on his face.
He came in to clear some things out of his office and he looked like Hannibal Lecter, Jules had joked. Except less cool.
I was desperate to leave all traces of my life with Cort behind, but I knew it’d be impossible. This was New Orleans, after all, and Delilah was Gabe’s business partner.
But maybe the worse of the storm was over. It had come quickly in the form of a bloody nose and a gun, but it was over.
Maybe.
At least the papers were signed.
Gabe rubbed my forehead with his thumb. “How about we break open this Champagne to celebrate your signed papers, our grand opening, and my new lawsuit?”
I laid my head on his chest. “That sounds wonderful.”
The Champagne was the same brand he’d sent over on the night of my b
achelorette party. It’s all come full circle, I thought.
“But first—” he whispered, in my ear, “—I dare you to kiss me.”
I looked up at him. My heart swelled. It grew wings. It flew.
“That’s an easy dare,” I said.
It was. It always was.
Upcoming Titles from Rosalie Rousseaux
Dangerous Viv
[Fall 2013]
Every Wednesday night, Anna Butler works a five-hour shift as a phone-sex operator under the name Dangerous Viv. Some men just want a friend. Others want dirty talk. A few have specific, unusual requests: purr like a cat, squeal like a mouse, eat a bowl of cherries and tell me how they taste. But when she gets a call from ‘Mr. Pierce,’ she’s caught off-guard. He’s not like the others. He calls back, week after week, until Anna finds herself anxious for the call.
There’s a rule in the phone-sex biz: Never meet your clients in person. But rules were meant to be broken—weren’t they?
A Beautiful Lie
[Early 2014]
The sequel—and finale—to An Easy Dare finds Cat and Gabe battling the Belrose family machine as they try to build a life. All they want is to be together, but the limits of their love are tested as old secrets are revealed, new enemies are made, and loyalties are divided. Will past mistakes continue to haunt them as they struggle for their future?
An Easy Dare Page 18