Good Times

by Kate, Jiffy

  “I know this area,” Finley says as the sidewalk begins to clear. Soon, it’s just the two of us. “It’s not far from Shep and CeCe… and Shaw and Avery.”

  “Shaw, the bar owner?” I ask, taking in the bright colorful houses as they come into view.

  Finley nods, gesturing ahead to a beautiful two-story house with a gorgeous front porch. “That’s Shaw and Avery’s. Have you met them?”

  “Just briefly at the New Year’s Eve party, but they’re going to be at the gallery tonight.”

  “They’re great,” Finley says. “I think you’ll really like Avery. She and CeCe are best friends… and Carys, Maverick’s wife.”

  “She owns the hotel, right?”

  He nods, pointing to the house we’re passing. “That’s Shep and CeCe’s place.”

  “Well, then that must be the townhouse,” I say, pointing across the street.

  “Do they have a room for rent?” Finley asks as we look both ways before crossing over to the other side.

  Pulling out my phone, I look up the code the realtor gave me and punch it in on the keypad at the front door. “No, I’m thinking about buying it.”

  When the deadbolt disengages, I push the door open and walk through. The second I step into the foyer and catch a glimpse of the hardwood floors and expansive ceiling, I feel my heart skip a beat. As we walk into the front room, I notice the tall windows and built-in bookcases and I’m practically sold.

  Doing a spin, I halt when I notice Finley’s furrowed brow.

  “What? You don’t like this place either?” I ask, giving the space another look, expecting to find cracks in the ceiling or a nasty water leak. But everything is perfect and pristine—something old that’s been made new. It’s perfect.

  When he doesn’t reply, I jokingly add, “There aren’t any dark staircases or sketchy neighbors.”

  Finley’s expression finally shifts and he turns his eyes to the floor before he lets out a laugh and shakes his head.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he says, bringing his eyes back up to meet mine. “I just forget sometimes.”

  “Forget what?” I ask, turning to walk into what I’m assuming is the kitchen.

  And I’m right.

  And it’s glorious.

  White subway tile adorns the walls, setting off pale gray cabinets and stainless-steel appliances. There’s a large, farm-style sink and open shelves for dishes. I can visualize myself standing here making coffee on a Sunday morning as the sun filters through the window.

  “I forget how different we are,” Finley says quietly, stepping into the kitchen and I stiffen, my hand freezing on the cool marble counter.

  Turning, our eyes meet and for a second, I don’t know what to say.

  It’s only money.

  It’s not like that.

  We’re not different.

  Everything that comes to mind sounds stupid and insensitive. We are different. Finley has struggled for everything he’s ever had. Even when he moved in with Maggie, things still weren’t easy. At school, everyone knew he was the grandson of the hired help at the Rhys-Jones estate. They knew he was enrolled because of who his grandmother worked for.

  If I had to guess, not a lot has changed for Finley over the years. But I also know that money has never made him happy. He’s always found happiness in much simpler things and I’ve always loved that about him.

  “You’re right,” I finally say, wanting to clear the air on this topic instead of letting it fester. “We’re different. I have a trust fund and it’s been sitting untouched since I turned twenty-one.” I shrug, letting out a deep sigh. “I can’t change that. But I know you, Finley Lawson, and I know you don’t care about money or the things it can buy.”

  Finn smirks and then rakes a hand through his curly hair. “You’re right. I don’t. And that was a stupid thing for me to say.”

  “Will it change your opinion of me if I buy this place with my trust fund?”

  He lets out a breathy chuckle before his teeth bite down on his full lower lip and then release it. Those big, dark eyes look over at me from beneath long lashes women would kill for. “Of course not,” he mutters. “I’d be happy knowing you were somewhere safe, surrounded by people who care about you.”

  “What is it then?”

  Sighing, he shoves his hands in his back pockets and begins walking around the empty house. “I guess I just forgot about all of that. You haven’t been around in so long and then you show back up here, in New Orleans. And you’re the same, but different. I guess I forgot that you’re Georgette Taylor, only child of Mr. and Mrs. George Taylor, and everything that entails.”

  “The only thing that entails is my lineage and the fact I have a trust fund my grandfather left me. That’s it,” I call out as I lose sight of him around the corner.

  When we meet back up in the dining room, Finley’s brow arches. “I’d venture to say your mother and father still wouldn’t be happy you’re spending time with me.”

  Rolling my eyes, I snort. “My mother and father no longer get to dictate who I spend my time with.”

  “I bet they approve of Trevor.”

  The statement is out before either of us can process the implications. But I see it on Finley’s face the second he regrets saying it. And I feel it in my chest the second I realize he’s right.

  They do approve of Trevor, unlike Finley, who they never approved of.

  Well, that’s not entirely true. For a brief period of time, when they assumed there was no chance I’d be interested in someone like Finley, and thought we were merely study buddies, they were fine with me spending time with him. But the second they saw the spark that has always been there between us, they hated the idea of the two of us being together.

  I spent four years hiding Finley from them and lying about where I was and who I was with.

  “We should go,” I say as I walk past him and straight for the door.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers, but I don’t acknowledge it.

  As I lock the door behind us, I can feel the tension rolling off Finley.

  “You’re right,” I finally say as we’re walking down the sidewalk. “They do approve of Trevor.”

  But that’s not why I’m with him.

  Is it?

  “And you’re also right that they probably would hate to know we’ve reconnected,” I admit. “But I meant what I said. I’m an adult now and they no longer get to dictate anything about my life. It’s one of the reasons I rarely go home. I like being my own person and making my own decisions. It’s also why I haven’t touched my trust fund. Even though it’s not their money, I’ve never wanted them to be able to throw it in my face and use it as a way to prove I can’t handle being on my own. I can handle it. I’m doing it.”

  My voice might have gone up a notch, but I can’t help it. I want Finley to know even though in a lot of ways I’m the same girl he once knew, I’m also different.

  “You are doing it,” Finley says as we approach the corner and come to a stop. He turns to me, his hand coming up to squeeze my shoulder. “You’re everything I ever dreamed you would be, Jette… you’re smart and ambitious. You know what you want and you’re out there taking chances. I couldn’t be prouder of you. I’m sorry I said anything about the money or Trevor. Neither of those are my business.”

  He’s proud of me?

  I’m not sure I can even remember the last time someone said that to me.

  And it does something to me, but I try to stuff it back down and save that emotion for when I’m alone in my hotel room later. I’ll definitely be coming back to this moment.

  “Thank you,” I finally say as we start walking again. “And don’t worry, I’ll still invite you over for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

  Finley laughs and it’s the best sound I’ve heard all day.

  When he grabs my hand to keep me from getting plowed over by a horse and carriage, I let him, and it doesn’t feel awkward or wrong.

&nb
sp; It feels like everything is right in the world.

  Even after all this time, we’re still just Finn and Jette.

  Later, as I’m walking around the empty gallery in my purple dress with a gold tulle overlay, I carefully arrange the plates, napkins, and forks Micah dropped off earlier.

  There’s a small stage set up in the back corner for Tucker and Finley.

  Tall, pub-style tables are placed around the gallery for people to stand at while they eat King Cake and mingle. Each one is adorned with tealight candles, creating a warm glow against the white floors and walls.

  Just as I’m making my way back up to the front, the door opens and Cami calls out, “Laissez les bon temps rouler.”

  Let the good times roll.

  I’ve already learned that one in my few weeks on the job.

  “I’ve brought part of the entertainment and three King Cakes,” she announces as Deacon and Tucker walk in behind her, each carrying a boxed cake. Then a beautiful woman with long, dark hair walks in behind them. “I don’t think you met my sister-in-law, Piper,” Cami continues, still buzzing around, just like she’s been doing for the past couple of days.

  “No, I haven’t,” I say, walking closer. “Hi, I’m Georgette Taylor.”

  “Piper Gray,” she says, reaching out to shake my hand.

  “So nice to meet you. Cami’s told me so much about you.”

  She gives her sister-in-law the side-eye and then turns back to me. “She’s pregnant and loaded on carbs. Don’t believe a word she says.”

  “Hey!” Cami exclaims. “I might be pregnant but I’m not deaf.”

  “Where would you like me to set up?” Tucker asks, coming back in from a second trip outside. He now has an amp and a guitar in tow.

  I point toward the back corner as Finley walks in the open door, carrying a similar setup, but instead of a guitar case, he has his saxophone.

  “Finley,” Tucker greets, clapping him on the back. “Dude, I’ve been counting down the days.”

  Finn chuckles. “Me too, man. Let’s do this.”

  I hear Tucker introduce Finley to Piper and the six of us go about getting things ready.

  Soon, the entire gallery is full of people and laughter. Cami did the honors and cut the first slice of King Cake, making the announcement that this would become an annual affair and that everyone who gets a baby in their slice should be prepared to furnish the cakes next year.

  “Hey,” Cami says quietly, coming up beside me as we listen to the incredible musical entertainment. Tucker and Finley sound amazing together. They’ve covered everyone from Nat King Cole to Jay-Z. It’s been perfect. The entire evening has been perfect.

  “Hey,” I say, clinking my glass half-full of Moscato with her sparkling water.

  Cami’s smile is so serene as she takes it all in. “You did so good. The evening is everything I hoped it would be and then some. That goes for the gallery, as well. I couldn’t be happier with how everything is going so far and so much of that is thanks to you. Hiring you was the best thing I’ve done in a while.”

  My cheeks heat up at her praise and I hide my smile with a sip of wine. “Thank you,” I finally say as I swallow the sweet liquid. “For hiring me and bringing me to this city… and into this amazing group of people.”

  Finley was right, I met Shaw’s wife, Avery, and I love her. She’s close to my age and so fun to be around. Seeing Cami with CeCe and Carys and Avery makes me smile. And then you toss in her sisters-in-law, Piper and Dani, and it’s a whole tribe of women I’d love to know better.

  And don’t even get me started on Annie. She’s everything I always wanted my mother to be—warm, caring, inviting. This isn’t even her house and she’s made every person feel like a part of her family. I can’t imagine what it’s like on their plantation, but I hope to find out one of these days.

  “I have something to tell you,” Cami says, keeping her voice low. “But I don’t want you to freak out, because you’re ready… more than ready. And I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it because this gallery is like one of my babies and I’d never entrust it to someone I didn’t think was capable.”

  I feel my eyes grow wide as she rambles, hoping she’s not getting ready to say what I think she is.

  “My doctor is putting me on bedrest. I’m not even supposed to be here tonight, but I convinced Deacon I needed this last hurrah.” Her eyes travel across the room to meet up with her husband’s, which haven’t left her the entire evening.

  Earlier, I noticed he’d been hovering more than usual, and now I know why.

  “As of tomorrow, the gallery will be in your care.” My eyes are still trained forward as I try to digest what she’s telling me. I feel Cami’s hand wrap around mine that’s dangling at my side. “Dani has agreed to step in and be your extra set of hands when you need her. She’s planning on making a daily appearance. If you don’t need her, you can send her on her way. But if you do, she’ll be here for any and everything. She’s a photographer and has a great eye for art, so use her. She’s also been around my studio for a while now and knows the ins and outs of things. Her schedule is flexible, and she’s been hanging around the city quite a bit to be closer to Micah, since he’s pretty much full-time at Lagniappe these days. It’s really a win-win for everyone.”

  Taking a deep breath, I try to relax.

  It’s fine.

  Everything will be fine.

  And knowing Dani is going to be around does set my mind at ease a bit, but I also know there’s no way to prepare for the couple months ahead.

  “Sink or swim, right?” I say, half-joking, as I turn to face Cami.

  She squeezes my hand tighter. “Oh, honey. You’ll be soaring. I promise.”

  Chapter Nine

  Finley

  “Great set, man!” Roger pats me on the back while I open the door to the tiny dressing room backstage. I yell my thanks to him before stepping inside and walking straight for the sink to wash my face and freshen up. Once I’m done, I peel off my sweaty t-shirt and replace it with a clean one from my duffel bag. I always work up a sweat while playing but the added heat of stage lights is a killer for sure. I can work through three or four shirts a night sometimes, so I know to pack extras with me, including deodorant.

  Especially the deodorant. Can’t have stinky pits.

  I still have one more set to go before my time is up here at Good Times and I’m thankful for the break to walk around, stretch my legs, and drink a cold beer. I wish Jette was here so I’d have someone to talk to but she’s been slammed at work this week, running the gallery on her own now that Cami is on maternity leave, and has been going to bed early. I know she’s in her element and doing what she loves most but I miss her. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I automatically open my text conversation with Jette and look at the gif of a puppy yawning she sent over two hours ago.

  Jette: Going to bed. Kick some ass tonight!

  I smile even wider than I did when I first opened her message because I did. I kicked some major ass tonight and that’s not me being arrogant or conceited. Some nights are just better than others, and tonight was one of my best. That’s another reason I wish Jette was here; she would’ve loved it. She’s always been my biggest cheerleader and I want to make her proud.

  “Baby, baby, baby! You are on fire tonight!” Gia saunters up to me and places her hands on top of my shoulders. “You playin’ for someone special or did you just get laid? Whatever it is that has upped your game, keep it up. Oh, and,” she runs a long, red fingernail down the middle of my chest, “save some sugar for me.”

  “Nothing’s changed, Gia, I’m just having a good night.” I twist my torso to place my empty beer glass on the bar behind me and to remove myself from her arms. She laughs when I succeed.

  Typical Gia.

  “Honey, you’re having an incredible night. One might even say, tonight could be life-changing for you,” she hedges.

  “Oh, yeah? In what way?” I don’t want to fall
for any of her schemes but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t interested in what she has to say.

  Gia’s eyes light up when she sees she has my full attention. She brushes her thick, auburn hair away from her face and leans closer to me. “Let’s just say, I’ve been in touch with a local musician… a very famous one, in fact… who’s looking for new talent to do some studio work. You’re a hot, young musician, Finley. I bet you play more than just the sax, right?”

  “Yeah, I play drums and keys pretty well and can get by on guitar and bass. What does that have to do with being young and hot?” I spit out that last word because that is not how I see myself and I feel stupid even repeating it.

  “Because you have it all. Looks, youth, and talent—it’s the fucking trifecta of our industry! Even your naiveté is endearing.” She says this with a laugh but too soon, her eyes darken as they take me in from my head to my toes. Gia licks her lips before continuing. “This could be a really profitable opportunity for you and I’m inclined to give my famous friend your name… if you give me something in return.”

  This is a bit different from how I’ve seen Gia work in the past. Normally, it’s harmless flirting that ends with a laugh as soon as I turn her down. This is the first time she’s propositioned me in this way and I don’t like it one bit.

  I step away from her completely, watching as she stumbles to regain her balance. “No, Gia. I’ve told you before, I don’t work that way. I earn my opportunities through my talent and merit, that’s it. I don’t put out for jobs ever and if that doesn’t work for you, I’ll find someone else to work for.”

  “Finley—”

  “No. I’m serious, Gia. I love working here and you’re a great boss, for the most part. And I don’t give two shits if you sleep with everyone in here but it’s not going to happen with me.”

  Gia holds her hands up, as if she’s surrendering. “I get it, Finn, I do. And, I apologize for upsetting you. You’re not like most guys around here… in a lot of ways, in fact, and I respect you for that. I’ll lay off, I promise.”

  I relax my stance, nodding my acceptance of her words. “Thanks, Gia. I appreciate it.”