by Kate, Jiffy
“Hey, you wanna have some fun tomorrow?”
Finley’s change of topic has me perking up immediately. “Sure, what do you have in mind?”
“Mardi Gras World!”
“What is that? I thought New Orleans was Mardi Gras World.”
He smiles, meeting my eyes, as he shakes his head. “It’s this place where some of the parade floats are created and stored. It’s supposed to be pretty cool and they offer tours.”
“If you were anyone else, I’d be worried they’d think this is a stupid idea, but I know you and I know how you get a kick out of oddities as much as I do. And what better way to immerse ourselves in this new city than with a tour of Mardi Gras World? I’ve heard the parades are insane, so this way, we can get an up-close and personal look at the floats without all the crazy people.”
“That sounds so fun,” I say, my face beaming with excitement. “I’d love to!”
“I’ll meet you at the gallery around four, okay? We can get an Uber from there.”
“I’ll be ready,” I say while trying to stifle a yawn.
“Alright, party animal. Let me take you home.” Finley stands up and holds his hand out to me.
I take his hand and stand up; happy I only wobble a little. “Don’t you have another set? I don’t want to get you in trouble. I can stay here and wait for you.” I know I’m lying and so does Finn. Once I start yawning, I’m down for the count.
“Let me tell Gia I’ll be a little late for my next set and then we can go.”
He’s back a lot sooner than I expected and I’m relieved. It’s been a long day and I really am tired. The champagne didn’t help any, but I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate signing on the dotted line than to be here tonight, watching Finley play.
When we step outside, the cool breeze blowing by and the feel of Finley’s hand grabbing mine work together to wake me up.
“You never could hold your liquor. Funny how some things never change.”
I elbow him in his side, making him bark out a laugh. “Oh, hush. My reaction to alcohol may be the same but at least my choice of beverages has improved.”
“Oh, so you’ve quit Boone’s Farm for good?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “That’s right, no more Strawberry Hill for me. I’m all grown up.”
I swear, it sounds like he murmurs “that’s a fact” under his breath but I pretend I didn’t hear. Instead, I privately enjoy the feel of my blood buzzing throughout my body at his words.
All too soon, we’re standing in front of the hotel that’s been my home for the past month.
“Thank you for walking me home, Finn. I really appreciate it.”
“Any time, Jette. You know that.” And I do know. I know how fortunate I am to have Finley back in my life. I make a silent vow to never take him for granted again or leave him.
If I can help it.
“I hope your boss isn’t upset with you when you go back.”
“Don’t worry about that. Besides, your safety is more important than my job.” He opens the door to the hotel for me and kisses my hand before letting it go and nudging me inside. “Night, Jette.”
“Goodnight, Finn. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I watch him walk down the street until he turns a corner before I head to my room.
Then, I take my time showering and getting ready for bed, daydreaming about what life will be like once I’m in my new place. It’s not until I’m in bed that I turn my phone on and see a missed call from Trevor. He rarely initiates conversations these days, unless he needs something, so I can’t help but worry about his reason for calling.
With New York being an hour ahead of New Orleans, it’s probably way too late to call but I dial his number anyway. I should be able to call my boyfriend at any time, right? Besides, he called first. I’m being nice and returning it.
“Hello.”
I can’t tell by his voice if I woke him up or not, but he doesn’t sound particularly happy to hear from me.
“Hey, Trevor. Is this a bad time? I just saw that you called.”
“Where have you been? It’s too late for you to be out by yourself.”
“I wasn’t out by myself; I was with Finley.”
“Who’s that?” he asks, sounding more alert now.
“My friend from high school, remember? I told you that we’ve reconnected.”
“And what were you two out doing?”
Here goes nothing. “We were celebrating me being a homeowner.”
Silence.
“I decided to buy the townhouse I looked at the other day,” I continue.
“I gathered that, Georgette. I’m not stupid. How exactly are we supposed to make this work with us being in two different states permanently? Do you have any idea how hard this has been on me? How embarrassing it is to attend social gatherings by myself? I can’t bring myself to explain to people where you are right now because it’s so preposterous and now you’re planning on living there?”
A rush of indignation flows through me and I sit up in bed, throwing the covers off.
“You know, Trevor,” I start, squeezing my eyes shut and rubbing them furiously, trying to remain calm. “If the roles were reversed, I would support you and your career—”
“Career?” he barks out, cutting me off. “Is that what we’re calling it now? Because last I checked, this resembles a childish stint of sowing your wild oats. I thought you got past that the last time you backpacked through Europe.”
He scoffs, his heavy breath coming through loud and clear, along with his distaste, which makes my blood boil.
How dare he?
How fucking dare he?
Tears prick my eyes, but I inhale deeply and brush them away. “This is my career, my decision. And as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, if you were the one who had to move for your job, I would support you. I would try to make the best of things and I would use this time to try to figure out if this is what I really want.”
My words end in a quiet whisper and we both sit quietly on opposite ends of the phone, feeling not just thousands of miles away, but millions… light-years.
“What I really want?” Trevor repeats. “Is this a fucking ultimatum… is that what this is? A… stunt to force me to… what? Ask you to marry me?”
I feel the stab of his words, right in my heart.
Unlike Trevor, I would never throw something in his face that means so much to him. I also wouldn’t accuse him of something so low. How could he think I’m using this job opportunity as an ultimatum?
“I would never force you to ask me to marry you,” I finally say, a feeling of resignation taking over. “I hope whoever I marry doesn’t have to be forced to do anything when it comes to me. I want my future husband to choose me and make me a priority.”
Trevor sighs, the same resignation ringing through. “I think we should both get some sleep. I have an early meeting tomorrow.”
That’s it?
He has an early meeting tomorrow?
Swallowing down my emotions, I clear my throat before replying, “Me too.”
“Good night, Georgette.”
“Good night.”
Chapter Eleven
Finley
As I walk to the gallery to meet Georgette for our not-a-date date, I can’t help but bask in the sunshine. It would’ve been a perfect day to play in the Quarter and I’m sure there were tons of tourists to entertain. Instead, it was my first official day in the studio with Lola, which was pretty amazing in its own right, so no complaints from me.
Stepping onto Royal Street, I spot Jette immediately. She’s standing in front of her hotel, rather than the gallery, and I assume she’s changed her clothes because she looks way more casual than she normally does when she works.
I like it. I like it a lot.
Wearing a thin sweater, jeans, and sneakers, she looks like she did when we were in high school. Her blonde curls blowing wildly in the breeze are the same,
too, and I welcome the nostalgic feeling overcoming me. I’ve always loved that, no matter how hard she tried to tame those curls, they rebelled and did their own thing. It seems as though she’s finally embraced her hair and that makes me very happy.
I can’t help but wish I could run my fingers through them to see if they’re still as soft as they used to be, but that’s where I must stop myself.
If I allow my imagination to go farther, I’ll be dreaming about cradling her face in my hands and pulling her mouth to mine but none of that can happen. She’s with Trevor, not me, and I have to respect that. I do respect that. As her friend, I want her to be happy, even if that means she’s happy without me.
“Finley! I’m over here!”
I wave back at Jette to let her know I see her and pick up my pace until she’s standing in front of me. Fuck, she smells good, like the warm sunshine I was just basking in, and the smile she’s giving me in greeting is better and brighter than any stage light I’ve been under.
Reign in it, man. Just friends, remember?
“You haven’t been waiting long, have you?” I ask.
“No, not at all. Dani agreed to close up the gallery so I left a little early and went to my room to change clothes. This is okay, isn’t it?” she asks, pointing to her outfit. “I assumed this wasn’t a dressy kind of excursion.”
Chuckling, I reply, “You’re perfect…” I start but catch myself. “I mean, what you’re wearing is perfect. You look great, by the way. New Orleans suits you.”
Jette seems to tense at my words, probably because of my slip of the tongue, but then relaxes into another smile. “Thank you, I agree. I had no idea I’d love being here as much as I do but I’m happy I’m adjusting so well.” For a second, we just smile at each other, like we’re two of the luckiest people on the planet because we’re standing here in each other’s company on a sidewalk in New Orleans.
Eventually, Jette nudges me with her elbow and nods toward the sidewalk. “I’m also happy I have you here to explore with, so let’s get going!”
“Yes, ma’am.” I give her a quick salute before pointing her in the direction we need to walk.
“I found out there’s a shuttle a couple of blocks over that will take us to Mardi Gras World and it’s scheduled to leave soon, so we need to hurry,” I tell her, fighting the urge to grab her hand like I did last night, which I justified because she was tipsy.
Thankfully, there is only a small handful of people waiting for the shuttle and when we’re all on board, there’s room for us to have our own row of seats.
“So, how has the gallery been without Cami?” I ask as the shuttle starts moving.
“Not too bad. There are busy times and slow times, but it’s been a lot of fun having Dani to hang out with. She keeps trying to get me hooked on her true crime tv shows. She’s obsessed.”
“Oh, yeah, Shep is hooked on those, too. He’s tried to get me to watch some but I just can’t. I don’t want to know about the crazy shit that goes on outside my small world, you know? I’m perfectly fine watching reruns of The Office instead.”
“Right?” she says, laughing. “If I want to be freaked out, I’ll watch the news.”
We continue to make small talk for the short ride. I’ve missed this, easy conversations about everything and nothing at all. Jette and I have always been able to fill the silence or enjoy it. Neither ever feels forced and it makes me feel good to know that hasn’t changed.
When we arrive, I pay for our tickets and the tour starts shortly after. We’re not the only ones here, but we get to take our time going through the floats and it’s pretty damn cool.
“Whoa,” Jette says, her eyes wide and child-like, taking in the monstrosities around us. When she turns and smiles that familiar smile, I’m a goner, and so fucking glad I invited her to come.
It’s so wild seeing all the floats and props up close. The attention to detail and pure artistry of these things are incredible; I’m in awe as Jette and I walk around, inspecting each piece. Some of them are pretty creepy, too, if I’m being perfectly honest. More than once, Jette has to stifle a scream after turning a corner and coming face to face with a large character made of Styrofoam.
I try not to laugh.
I fail.
“Shut up.” She pushes on my shoulder when I can’t hold back my laughter any longer. “That was scary and you know it!”
“Okay, I admit, that big-ass jester was pretty terrifying, but did you see the Louis Armstrong one? That was amazing.”
“It was,” she agrees, smiling up at me. “Was it your favorite?”
I ponder her question for a few seconds as we walk outside. “It was definitely in my top two.” When we make it to the metal railing, we stop and lean against it, taking in the Mississippi River. With the sun starting to set behind a nearby bridge, the view is breathtaking. Almost as breathtaking as the woman beside me.
“What was your other favorite?” she asks.
“Oh, the Yoda, for sure. I mean, Louis Armstrong is a Nola legend, but Star Wars is the best.”
“Wow, speaking of things never changing,” she teases. Jette never has passed up an opportunity to poke fun at my obsession with Star Wars but I don’t mind. I used to pick on her for her love of Broadway show tunes but, secretly, I loved that about her. I used to daydream about taking her to all her favorite shows, knowing I’d be watching her more than the actors on the stage.
Our laughter dies down and, if I were a betting man, I’d say we’re both remembering how things were between us back in high school. Even though I was crushed when Jette left, I never regretted what happened between us but I’ve always wondered if she did.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but I don’t want to ruin this moment, so instead, I tell her my good news.
“So, I got a new job.”
“What? Were you fired last night for walking me home?”
“No, I’m still at the club but I was given an opportunity that may eventually take me away from Good Times.” I know I’m still in the early stages of working with Lola but I’m hoping this becomes something more permanent, more stable.
“Well, stop stalling and tell me!” She grabs onto my bicep and shakes it a little. Does she not feel the buzz of electricity when we touch? I can’t be the only one.
“I’m a studio musician for Lola Carradine now.” I try really hard not to sound like I’m bragging but, dammit, I’m proud. And I want Georgette to be proud of me, too.
“Lola Carradine. The Lola Carradine? Holy shit, Finn! When did this happen and why am I just now hearing about it?”
“Calm down,” I say, even though I love her enthusiasm. “Yes, it’s the Lola Carradine and I just started this week. Gia, my boss from Good Times, said Lola came by a while back and after watching me play, she asked Gia to give me her number. I went to her home studio last week and we hit it off, so she asked me to join her band. We started on her new album yesterday.”
“Oh, my god! That’s incredible news. I can’t believe you didn’t mention it last night.”
“Last night we celebrated you. My news could wait.”
“No, Finley, your news is way more important than my townhouse. I wish you would’ve told me sooner; we could’ve celebrated together.”
“Jette, it’s fine. Besides, we’re celebrating tonight.”
“Okay, but that means dinner is on me. Whatever you want.” She’s daring me to argue but she knows I’ll give in. I always do. I’ll never be able to deny her.
And, I know she means well but I want to be the one to spoil her, not the other way around.
Doing things for others makes Jette happy and I always want to make her happy, so I accept her offer and say, “Lagniappe, it is, then.”
Chapter Twelve
Georgette
“Hello?” Finn sounds a little out of breath and I’m afraid I caught him in the middle of a set or something.
“Are you busy?” I ask, in greeting. “I can call back—”
“Uh, no,” he replies, sounding a bit distracted, but when he continues with, “I’m never too busy for you,” my heart melts.
How does he do that with one sentence?
Why does he still have that effect on me?
Because he’s Finley, that’s why. It’s the only explanation I can give. He’s my Finley. But he’s not actually mine, is he?
His heavy breaths increase and I pull the phone back briefly, my heart picking up speed, but not because of what he’s saying but how he’s breathing. There’re only a few reasons people get that out of breath… walking stairs, moving heavy furniture, having sex…
Oh, God.
What if Finley was busy with someone?
“Uh, Finn?” I ask, feeling my cheeks heat up. “Did I interrupt you or—”
Deep breathing.
Lots of deep breathing.
“No, why?”
I swallow, feeling a surge of jealousy and then beating it down. I have no right to feel that. I just clarified that he’s not mine. Finley can be with or do anyone he pleases.
“Jette?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you need something?”
I can’t help it, my stomach turns at the idea of Finley with someone, but I push through, getting to the point of my call. “I, uh… I was just calling to see if you’d like to drive to French Settlement with me tomorrow. I need to pick up a couple of pieces from Cami’s studio. Deacon was going to drive them to the gallery, but he’s had a few people call in sick, so I’m the only one who can do it.” My words come out in a rush, so I take a second to breathe, brushing my hair out of my face. “We’d drive the van, so yeah… don’t feel obligated.”
Finley laughs and it’s music to my ears. “I’m in, if for no other reason than to see you drive that big ass van.”
“Hey, don’t doubt my awesome driving skills.”
“I’m sure you did a lot of driving while you were in New York,” he says, sarcastically, “and we both know you didn’t drive much in high school. I mean, y’all had a freaking driver.” He pauses, and I’m worried he’s thinking about the fact my family really did have a driver and all that entails. There have been a few times over the past month where our financial differences have come up in conversation and I hate Finley has carried that with him all these years. I wish there was a way I could prove to him that none of that matters to me and I had no choice in the family I was born into.