Good Times

by Kate, Jiffy

  And the baby.

  God, I need to get to her or at least do something that feels productive.

  Walking down the sidewalk, I squeeze my way through and around groups of people, feeling more claustrophobic than I ever did on the streets of New York City. By the time I make it to the corner where Finley typically plays, another idea comes to me.

  Pulling my phone back out, I dial Dani.

  No answer.

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  My next phone call is to CeCe, who thankfully picks up on the fourth ring.

  “Neutral Grounds?” she answers, sounding uncharacteristically frazzled. What the hell is happening with all of my even-tempered friends today? “Oh, shit. Sorry… I forgot this was my cell,” she mutters to me or herself, I’m not sure. “Hello?”

  “CeCe?” Looking around me I realize it will take me a good while to get just about anywhere. The street I normally cross over to get to Canal is blocked again by a barricade.

  “Georgette?” The sounds of the espresso machine are drowned out by voices. I’m guessing Neutral Grounds looks a lot like the sidewalk I’m standing on—packed to the gills. “Where are you?”

  “Uh, Royal Street, trying to figure out how to get out of this madness!” My voice rises as a smidge of panic sets in. “Cami went into labor and I’m worried about her so I closed up the gallery to drive to the hospital but now I don’t know how I’d even get out of the Quarter, let alone the city…” I pause, feeling the weight of the moment crash down on me. “I just wanted to go to the hospital and be there.”

  “Deep breaths,” she says, regaining some of her usual calm, cool demeanor. “What about Cami? I missed a call from Deacon earlier but when I called him back it went to voicemail.”

  “I don’t know much… he couldn’t talk long,” I tell her as a guy pushes me into the side of the building I’m standing next to. Not on purpose, but due to the lack of space as people pass by.

  When I let out a grunt, CeCe asks, “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” I say, wincing as I rub the sting away on my shoulder. “Should’ve worn some football pads today. Anyway,” I continue, “Deacon just said Cami’s water broke and the cord is wrapped around the baby and they want to do a c-section. I know they don’t need me there, but the thought of staying put had me feeling anxious, so I thought about driving to Baton Rouge, but now…”

  “Not a good idea, babe,” CeCe says, the phone rustling as she calls out an order. “And I’m sure the baby and Cami are going to be fine. She’s a pro and Deacon would never let anything happen to her.”

  She’s right.

  I know she’s right.

  “We’ll all go tomorrow when the dust settles,” she urges. “Now, either get back in the gallery or get here. You don’t need to be out on the streets by yourself. Where’s Finn?”

  “Studio,” I tell her, glancing around and trying to decide my next move. “I guess I’m coming to Neutral Grounds. It’s better than sitting at the gallery, worrying by myself.”

  “Okay,” she says with a sigh. “Be safe and I’ll see you soon.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Finley

  Walking into Neutral Grounds, I feel like I’ve run a marathon and walked through a maze to get here. I knew today would be crazy, but I had no clue on what level.

  When CeCe sees me, she motions for me to come behind the counter, which is a feat in itself considering every inch of the shop is occupied with a body. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like Black Friday at Wal-Mart, which I’ve never experienced first-hand, but I’ve seen the news when someone gets trampled as they open the doors.

  That could totally happen today.

  “Hey,” I say, looking around to see if I can be of assistance. “Need me to throw on an apron?”

  She blows a strand of hair out of her face and glances over her shoulder. “I think we’ve got it and Shep’s on his way over to give us a hand, but if you’re going to be around for a while, maybe you could give Paige a break?”

  “Sure,” I tell her, reaching over to grab an apron.

  “Is Georgette with you?” she asks, standing on her tiptoes so see out over the people.

  I shake my head as I fiddle with the strings of the apron. “No, I figure she’ll call when she’s finished at the gallery. I don’t have to be at the club until six, so I wanted to stop by here and freshen up before heading back out.”

  CeCe’s concerned expression has me pausing.

  “What?”

  She cuts her eyes to the door and then back at me. “Well, she called a while ago and said Deacon called her and Cami’s water broke, but there’re some complications and they want to do a c-section.”

  “What?” I ask, trepidation starting to flood my veins. Not only for Cami and the baby, but Georgette too. I know how she feels about Cami and she’ll be worried.

  CeCe huffs and then bites down on her lip, thinking. “Maybe you should go look for her. When she called, she’d already locked up the gallery and was on Royal trying to make her way here.”

  “How long ago?” I ask, taking the apron back off and tossing it to the side.

  “Half an hour… maybe a little more.” She looks over at the clock and then back out at the line of customers. “I’m not sure. I’ve kind of lost track of time and space today.”

  “Royal Street was a nightmare. I had to wind my way around and it took me forever. No telling where she’s at and there are several parades going on…” That ember of worry is now blazing as I make my way toward the back hallway. “I’ll be back. If she shows up, tell her to wait here.”

  Fuck.

  I’m sure she’s fine, but I hate the idea of her being out there alone. The urge to go all caveman and murder someone if even a single blonde curl is out of place is strong, but I try to tamper it down.

  It’s fine.

  She’s fine.

  Everything is fine.

  Cutting across the narrow back alley, I make my way out to Royal, keeping my eyes peeled for Jette and trying to guess where she’d go. As I make it to the first corner, it’s just like the other end of the street and the road is blocked. Turning right and then left, I decide to head toward Decatur.

  Maybe Jette tried to stay on the main thoroughfares.

  Pulling my phone out, I see a missed call and kick myself for not checking sooner. Lola and I got straight to work when I got to the studio and we didn’t stop until we were finished re-recording the track we’ve been working on. She didn’t want to be in the studio today, which I don’t blame her for. The excitement of the streets is distracting, if nothing else. And the fanfare is incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  However, I’d be able to enjoy it a lot better if I could find Jette and know she’s safe.

  Then, laissez les bon temps rouler.

  Until then, I want to magically shut this place down until I find her.

  Dialing her number, I close my eyes, praying she answers. Hearing her voice would do wonders for the panic that’s building in my chest. “Pick up,” I mutter, stepping into an alcove to avoid a group of people having their own parade down the sidewalk—whistles and horns and the whole nine yards.

  “Hello?” Jette answers, sounding as out of breath as I feel.

  “Jette?”

  “Finn,” she replies, relief flooding her voice. “God, this is insanity.”

  “Where are you?”

  There’s a long pause and I’m afraid the call has dropped, but then she answers, “Decatur and… shit, I don’t know, I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve cut over and backtracked trying to get around these parade routes.”

  I want to yell at her, ask her what she was thinking leaving the gallery. We should’ve made a better plan for the day. But here we are, traversing this new city together, as long as she’s okay, everything is going to be fine.

  “What do you see?” I ask. “Just give me a landmark or two and I’ll come to you.”


  She tells me the names of a couple of businesses by her and I use my GPS to locate her. Fifteen minutes later, I turn a corner and see her gorgeous blonde hair as she huddles next to a storefront that’s closed down. “Finn!”

  Running the rest of the way, dodging people as I go, I literally pick her up off her feet when I reach her, hugging her to me. “I swear, I’ll always find you, but I wish you’d stop running away from me.”

  She laughs breathlessly, squeezing my neck. “I swear, I’ve never intentionally tried to leave you.”

  There’s something about this exchange that’s bigger than the moment. But I meant what I said, I’ll always find her… always. Because she’s mine and I’m hers and nothing or no one will keep us apart, not even a crazy-ass Fat Tuesday.

  “Let’s go,” I tell her, placing her back on her feet. “CeCe will be putting out an APB on your ass if we don’t. She’ll need to see you with her own eyes to know you’re safe.”

  Hand in hand, we make our way back to Neutral Grounds, taking the route I used to find her.

  When we walk into the shop, the crowd has thinned some and Shep is behind the counter making drinks while CeCe and Paige stock the bar.

  “God,” CeCe exclaims, setting down a stack of cups and walking over to us. “You scared the shit out of me!” She pulls Jette into a hug and gives me a look over her shoulder.

  She was genuinely worried.

  Yeah, me too.

  “I was about to call in some favors,” Shep says when he sees us. “You good?”

  The question is directed at Jette and she nods, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “Let me get you something,” CeCe says, always needing to feed somebody. “What sounds good? Sandwich? Coffee?”

  “Maybe just a coffee… and a couch,” Jette says with a laugh. “I feel like I’ve been walking for miles.”

  Once CeCe makes us both a drink, I turn to Jette. “Want to take these upstairs?”

  She nods, silently agreeing, and follows me to the staircase.

  While I’m in the shower, Jette makes herself at home on the couch, just like she said. After I’m dressed, I walk back into the living room to find her staring at her phone.

  “Still no call?”

  Sighing, she falls back on the couch. “No, and I know these things take time, but it’s been almost three hours since Deacon called. Surely, there’s a baby by now… right?”

  I see the worry on her face and I wish I could take it all away. “How about you try Dani again? I’m sure she’s made it there by now and even if she hasn’t, she’ll know something.”

  Jette blows out a deep breath and starts to dial, but before she can, there’s a knock at the door.

  “It’s a girl,” CeCe yells through the door before I can open it. “It’s a girl!”

  Jette is off the couch and flinging the door open before I can get to it. She and CeCe hug each other like one of them just had the baby. I can’t help the stupid smile on my face and the immense relief I feel.

  “Oh, my God,” Jette gushes, wiping away a few tears. “What’s her name?”

  CeCe braces her hand on the door frame and catches her breath. “June Sunny Landry. Six pounds, seven ounces, and twenty inches long. Annie called the shop because she didn’t have anyone’s personal numbers, which she wasn’t happy about, by the way. But she said she’s perfect and Cami is doing great.”

  They hug again and then CeCe heads back downstairs.

  “What a freaking day,” Jette groans, walking toward me and falling into my chest. “How lame would it be for me to spend my first Mardi Gras in New Orleans at home with our dog?”

  Kissing the top of her head, I hold her, wishing I could stay home with her and our dog too. And if that makes me lame, I really don’t give a shit. But alas, I am a musician in New Orleans on its biggest night of the year.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Georgette

  Lazily, Finn runs a finger up my spine causing chills to follow in its wake.

  “Cold?” he asks, his voice just as lazy as his actions. It’s Saturday, and for most people, that means a day off, but not for me and Finn. I have to be at the gallery in a couple of hours and Finley has another studio session with Lola today.

  But tonight, he’s taking me to Lagniappe for a date.

  A smile stretches across my face. “Quite the opposite,” I finally answer, loving the feel of his skin against mine. “I’m feeling very…very…warm.”

  I feel Finn lean closer and then his breath blows across my skin. Closing my eyes, I swallow the moan that tries to escape, biting down on my lip. Then, his lips replace his breath and I’m not strong enough to hold back my appreciation of his attention.

  “You taste so sweet,” Finn mutters against my skin. “The best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth… I knew it years ago, but it’s even better now… somehow.”

  Straddling my body, he kneels behind me, hands caressing my hips. I feel his hair brush my back as he bends over to kiss down my spine. When he works his way to my core, I’m a writhing mess, quietly panting and begging him for more.

  And he delivers.

  Finley always delivers.

  An hour later, after separate showers, because we now know we can’t get ready in a timely manner if we take one together, we’re both dressing, King laying on the bed watching us like a Pong game.

  “Maybe you can come with us one of these days, buddy,” I tell him. “I’ve been thinking about asking Cami if King can come to the gallery with me sometime. He’s such a good boy. I don’t think she’d mind.”

  Finn smiles, shaking his head. “I knew that was coming.”

  “What?” I ask, slipping on my flats. “I hate that he’s here by himself so much.”

  “You do remember he’s a dog, right?”

  Leaning over the bed to nuzzle his nose, I coo. “He’s the best dog ever. Aren’t you, King?” Standing up, I level Finn with my gaze through the mirror on the dresser. “Don’t act like I’m the only one who babies him.”

  Finn tries to act like he’s innocent, but he’s so not. I’ve caught him several times feeding him straight from his plate, even though we agreed we wouldn’t give him people food. And he lets him on the bed, even though we agreed he’d sleep on his own bed in the corner.

  It seriously has a better mattress than the one we sleep on.

  “Let’s go,” Finn says, patting his leg for King to follow, and I feel my heart fill even more as the two of them patter down the stairs, Finley murmuring to King as they leave.

  I swear, this has been the longest week in the history of weeks.

  Fat Tuesday seems like a month ago instead of four days.

  CeCe, Shep, Finley, and I finally got to go see the baby and Cami yesterday. After hearing everything was fine and Cami and the baby were healthy, we all decided to give Cami and Deacon some space and wait for her to be discharged from the hospital before visiting.

  And I turned it into a multi-purpose trip, picking up a few of Cami’s pieces while I was in town.

  Little Junie is perfect, of course. She looks like Cami with her blonde hair and petite features. I have no clue how Cami is going to leave her to come back to work, but she swears she’ll be back when the doctor releases her. However, that will now be closer to two months, instead of the four weeks she’d planned on, but we’ll manage. I assured her of that.

  The gallery is getting easier to handle on my own. With Mardi Gras behind us, the city is back to its usual buzz of activity, instead of the building roar of carnival.

  Finley, King, and I have fallen into a comfortable routine that I could live with forever.

  On most nights, Finley sleeps at my house, with extra-curricular activities added in. We sit on my small back porch and watch King run around the backyard. We snuggle on the couch. Some nights I go with Finn to Good Times and listen to him play.

  All I want is to finish out this
day and meet Finley at Lagniappe for our date.

  And then stay in bed with him all day tomorrow.

  The saying living my best life runs through my mind just as the gallery phone rings.

  Hurrying over to the desk, I pick it up. “303 Royal Street. How can I help you?”

  The person on the other end of the line, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, is interested in buying a small collection of pieces for her house in the Garden District. A friend of hers recently purchased a painting from us and she’s looking for something by the same artist.

  “I’d love to set up an appointment with you and show you what we have available. If none of our current collection fits what you’re looking for, we could discuss a commission,” I tell her, walking around to look at the schedule. “With our artists being local, it gives us the luxury of meeting our clients’ needs in a variety of ways.”

  After I pencil her in for an appointment next Tuesday, she asks if I might know someone who would be willing to do a portrait of her dog. To which I tell her, I’d be delighted to find an artist and gather a portfolio for her to look over when she’s here next week.

  Sometimes, my job is straightforward and to the point.

  Other times, it’s unconventional and spontaneous.

  No matter what, each client is different and I love that aspect.

  Being a Saturday, the foot traffic on Royal is steady, but not many people have walked in today. However, as I’m looking over the schedule for next week, I hear the chime of the front door.

  “Welcome to 303 Royal,” I greet before looking up, my heart stopping in my chest.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Finley

  Hopping off the streetcar at Canal, I have a little extra pep in my step and loads of good news to share with Jette tonight over dinner. I’ve never been one to care about a paycheck or how much money I’ve made or have.

  For my entire life, it’s always been about following my passion—be it the saxophone or Jette.

  But I won’t lie and say the check in my pocket doesn’t mean something to me, as does the new contract I just signed with Lola’s production company.