Good Times

by Kate, Jiffy

  It means stability.

  It means providing for Jette.

  It means living my life in comfort while still doing what I love.

  It means I’ve officially got everything I’ve ever dreamed of, with the exception of a few things.

  One of those being making Georgette Taylor my wife.

  And the second, giving her the desires of her heart—a family, a home.

  When I reach the corner of Royal and Canal, there’s a woman standing with a bucket of flowers. Spontaneously, I walk up to her and pull out a twenty from my pocket. “How much?” I ask, pointing to the bouquet of wildflowers—untamed and free, just like my beautiful girl.

  “Ten,” she replies, pulling one of the fullest bunches from the bucket. “For you.”

  I smile, accepting them from her as I hand her the twenty. “Keep the change.”

  “May you be blessed with warmth in your home, love in your heart, peace in your soul, and joy in your life,” she says, her smile in return as bright as the New Orleans sky.

  Nodding my head in gratitude, I turn and continue toward the gallery. Mardi Gras was a rush and I made more tips this past week than I’ve ever made in my life, but I’m glad it’s over. The streets are still busy, but comfortably so, and every person I’ve passed has a smile to offer.

  There really is no place like this city and the people in it.

  When I get to the gallery, I do what I always do and peek inside the front window, hoping for a glimpse of Jette in her element. Admiring her when she’s not looking is one of my favorite pastimes.

  But what I see stops me in my tracks.

  My feet moving on autopilot, I walk to the door and open it, stepping inside the gallery.

  Jette’s mom is the first to notice me and the look on her face tells me I’m unwelcome and the last person she thought she’d be seeing today.

  “What is he doing here?” she sneers, causing Jette to turn her attention from the man kneeling in front of her to me.

  “Finley,” Jette gushes, her eyes going wide, looking just as shocked as I feel.

  Trevor stands, turning to face me and then looks back at Jette. “Wait? This is Finley?” His expression is confused as he looks back and forth between the two of us. “I thought…”

  “Finley Lawson,” Jette says, her confidence seeping back into her body as our eyes lock. “This is Trevor Armstrong. Trevor this is Finley.”

  Her mother huffs as her father steps forward, taking over the conversation and puffing out his chest. “What are you doing here? Georgette, what’s going on here?” he demands.

  Jette clears her throat, swallowing. “Finley lives here, in New Orleans.” I watch as she squares her shoulders and faces her father. “And we’re together.”

  “Oh, God, Georgette, not this again. I thought you got over this ridiculous crush when you moved to New York, which is one of the reasons your father and I didn’t demand you return home. And then you met Trevor and we felt like it all happened for a reason. We couldn’t have orchestrated it better.” She pauses, glaring at me. “Please, don’t throw your life away for this.”

  Throwing her arm out, she points at me, looking at Jette.

  “Trevor came all this way to tell you he wants to marry you. Isn’t that what you wanted? The reason you came to New Orleans in the first place? To prove your point?” Her mother’s voice raises with each question, her sophisticated demeanor slipping. “Point proven, Georgette. Your little stunt can be over now and you can accept Trevor’s proposal and get on with your life.”

  I watch as Jette’s head falls to her chest and I see her breathing deeply, trying to get a grip on what’s happening. Unable to watch her suffer in any way, I decide now is the best chance I’m ever going to get to say my piece, leaving my heart on the line… all for her.

  “When I was sixteen,” I begin, glancing at Jette, whose head snaps up to look at me. “You kicked me out of your house and told Georgette she couldn’t see me anymore. I didn’t really know any better... I didn’t know to stand up for myself or that I could. I was a kid and I’d been beaten down my entire life before I went to live with Maggie. Unfortunately, for a time, I believed the hate you spewed. I believed you when you said I wasn’t good enough for Georgette.”

  Pausing, I give Jette a sad smile, remembering back to the days when we had to sneak around to see each other and how much worth she gave my life every time she took a chance on me.

  “Thank goodness, she didn’t listen to you,” I continue. “Thank goodness, she saw the good in me. Because now I know none of what you said is true.”

  Looking back at them, locking eyes with her father and hoping he hears every word I’m about to say. “I am good enough for Georgette and I know I can make her happy. I know what she wants and I want to give it to her. She would never have to doubt or question my love for her because I would show her every single day.”

  “Every single day,” I repeat, my eyes finding hers, a promise I hope she feels down to her soul. “She would never have to doubt where she stands in my life because I would always put her first, above everything else.”

  Jette’s mother is standing there, mouth agape, while her father clears his throat and adjusts his tie, trying to seem unfazed by my words. Honestly, I don’t care. All I care is that Jette hears them, loud and clear, and knows they’re true.

  “You should want her to be happy,” I tell them. “She’s your only child and I’ve never even heard you tell her you love her.”

  I hear Jette, rather than see her—quiet sniffles filling the gallery—and I can’t bring myself to make eye contact.

  “And you don’t deserve her,” I tell Trevor, my hand gripping the door handle behind me, needing to get some air and clear my head. And more than anything, I want to give Jette a chance to make her own choices, hoping she takes this opportunity to stand up to her parents, once and for all. “You had your chance to make her happy and you blew it.”

  Before I walk out, I call back to Jette, telling her to call me. The ball is in her court, she deserves this chance to make her own choices and call her own shots. I won’t force her hand. More than anything else in the entire world, I want Jette to be happy.

  Before the door closes behind me, I hear her call my name but I don’t turn around. I can’t. If I see her upset, I won’t be able to walk away.

  When I make it down the block, just before crossing the street, I stop and brace my hands on my knees. Breathing deeply, I close my eyes and tilt my head to the sky.

  “Please, God.”

  The prayer is barely out of my mouth when my phone rings. Not even looking at the screen, I answer, bracing myself for whatever she has to say. But it’s not Jette.

  “Finley?” a familiar voice asks, breaking through the haze. “Are you there?”

  “Aunt Stella?”

  When I hear her begin to cry, my body goes rigid. “Aunt Stella? Are you okay? Where’s Maggie?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Georgette

  “Georgette?”

  My name coming from Trevor is somewhere between a question and a plea, pulling me from under the flood of emotions left in Finley’s wake. Brushing away the moisture under my eyes, I inhale a cleansing breath, never more sure of what I want to say.

  “Please leave,” I say in a quiet, even tone.

  “Georgette?” Trevor asks again, this time his voice shifting to anger. “I asked you to marry me. For months, that’s what you’ve wanted. You can’t tell me whatever happened between then and now changes your feelings about me.”

  “You already know how I feel about you,” I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest. “That hasn’t changed.”

  “Were you screwing him?” Trevor spits. “Is that why you’re standing here giving me whiplash with this bullshit?”

  His accusation feels like a slap in the face and I flinch at his words. “No,” I grit, trying to keep my emotions under control. “My decision to end things between us had nothing to
do with Finley and everything to do with me. We haven’t been in a good place in a long time—”

  “Because you’re always giving me grief,” he snaps, cutting me off. “For fuck’s sake, Georgette. You went from wanting to marry me to accepting this ridiculous job, I couldn’t keep up. You couldn’t even give me a damn minute to figure out what I want.”

  Huffing a laugh, I shake my head. “And now you know what you want?”

  “Yes,” he says, softer this time, his eyes pleading. “I… I want what you want.”

  Feeling my parents’ presence, pressuring me as always, I close my eyes and try to push it all away, remembering Finn’s words and drawing strength from them. Specifically remembering when he told me my love gives him courage.

  Same, Finn… same.

  “And what is that, Trevor?” I ask, just wanting this to all be over so I can go find Finley. “What do I want?”

  He gives me a confused expression, hands on his hips. “Marriage?” he asks, like he’s choosing a multiple-choice answer. But this isn’t a multiple-choice question. “You know what? Why don’t you just tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen. What’s your price, Georgette?”

  A coolness settles over me and I take a step back. “I’m not for sale.”

  “Georgette,” my father warns. When I turn to look at him, I see the same warning in my mother’s eyes, her unspoken threat from earlier this week coming back.

  “I love Finley,” I tell him…her, Trevor, and anyone who will listen. “He’s all I’ve ever truly wanted. If you can’t accept that, then you can’t accept me, so please leave.”

  My mother’s face is blazing with anger as she passes me without a backward glance. My father follows her and they both vacate the gallery. Then, it’s just me and Trevor.

  “So, this is it?” Trevor asks, resignation written all over his face.

  “Yeah, Trevor, this is it,” I sigh, feeling exhausted from it all. “Finley is it for me. It’s always been him, I just lost him for a while, but now he’s back and he’s reclaimed what was always his. You don’t want me, Trevor…it never would’ve worked out between us anyway. We’re two different people who want different things in life. Consider this a second chance to go find what makes you happy, because I have.”

  Exhaling, he nods slightly before turning toward the door and walking out—out of the gallery and out of my life.

  Packing up my things, I shut off the lights, turn on the alarm and place a note in the window that says the gallery will reopen on Monday morning. After locking the door, I look both ways, wondering if he’s waiting for me somewhere close by. If I know Finn, he didn’t go far, probably just out of view so he wouldn’t have to deal with my parents or Trevor as they left the gallery. I’m close to calling out for him, expecting him to materialize from the side of the building, but he doesn’t.

  Where are you, Finn?

  I begin to feel antsy as thoughts of where he might’ve gone start flooding my mind. I know he was upset, so maybe he went to talk to Shep or maybe he went back to his apartment to wait for me there. I know he said to call, but I just need to see him.

  At this point, his embrace is the only thing that’s going to settle my nerves and emotions. Finley is the soothing balm my soul needs. Plus, I know walking in on Trevor proposing was the last thing he expected to see today and I want to assure him Trevor has no place in my life.

  It’s only him.

  It’s always been Finley.

  As I begin to jog down the sidewalk, a group of people block my path and I find myself throwing a few elbows to get past them. Normally, I’m not that aggressive, but the urgency I feel inside is taking over.

  “Sorry,” I call out, taking off in more of a sprint the closer I get to Neutral Grounds. By the time I open the front door, I’m out of breath and probably looking as frazzled as I feel.

  “Welcome to—” Paige’s words are cut off when she sees it’s me and takes in my demeanor. “Georgette? Is everything okay?”

  “Finley…is he here? Have you seen him?” Swallowing down air, I try to calm my breathing. All that King Cake Cami forced me to eat when I first moved here, paired with CeCe’s chocolate croissants, and my lack of gym time have officially caught up with me.

  She shakes her head wearily. “No, I haven’t seen him.”

  Feeling close to tears again, I bite down on my lip. Surely he wouldn’t have gone anywhere… he has to know I would never accept Trevor’s proposal and that I would come looking for him.

  “But I did just get here about twenty minutes ago, so you might call CeCe and see if he was here before I showed up. Is everything okay?”

  I take a deep breath, assuring myself everything is fine before telling Paige the same thing and bolting out the door in search of Finley.

  My next stop is Good Times. Music has always soothed his soul, maybe he needed to go there and clear his head or just escape for a while. On my walk there, I call CeCe, but she doesn’t answer.

  When I make it to the club, I open the door and expect to see him on stage or at the bar, but both are vacant. As I look around the space, I don’t see any familiar faces, except the bartender, so I walk up and wait as he mixes a drink.

  “What can I get for ya?” he asks before realizing who I am. “Oh, didn’t expect to see you here without Finn.” Cocking his head, he looks around. “Everything okay?”

  Why does everyone keep asking me that?

  “Fine,” I tell him. “Just looking for Finn, but I’m guessing you haven’t seen him?”

  His face falls a bit and his brows furrow. “Haven’t seen him today. You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him, pushing away from the bar. “I’m fine.” I start to walk away, but stop short of the door and turn back to him. “If you see him, would you please tell him I’m looking for him?”

  “Will do,” he says. “Take care.”

  Giving him the best smile I can muster, I turn for the door and walk back out onto the sidewalk feeling a bit lost and defeated.

  “Where are you, Finley?” I whisper, willing him, once again, to appear out of thin air. When that doesn’t happen, I start walking toward my house, hoping that’s where he decided to go. Maybe he’s sitting on my front steps waiting for me while I’ve been running around the French Quarter.

  But the only person waiting for me, well dog waiting for me, is King.

  Pulling my phone out, I dial Finn’s number, expecting him to answer, just as out of breath and worried as I am, but he doesn’t.

  “Finn,” I say, speaking to his voicemail. “It’s me. You said to call you but I needed to see you so I went to Neutral Grounds and then to Good Times. You’re weren’t there…obviously.” I feel my cheeks heat at the absurdity of my message. Of course, he wasn’t there, and of course, he knows that. “Call me, please.”

  Once I let King into the house, I give myself a moment to cry into his fur, soaking up his affection as I let out the stress and frustration of the last couple of hours. When I’m done, he licks my cheeks and then we share a spoonful of peanut butter while we watch reruns of Friends on the couch.

  Every once in a while, he looks toward the door, like he is anticipating Finley’s presence even more than I am. “I know, buddy,” I say, rubbing his ears. “He’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

  Those words are more for me than him, but we both take comfort in them while we wait.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Finley

  Fuck, I hate flying.

  After nearly missing my flight from New Orleans to Houston and a layover that barely lasted long enough to get from one gate to the next, I’m finally on the last leg of my trip to Odessa.

  Maggie, my grandmother and closest relative, had a heart attack today and I wasn’t there.

  In fact, I’m having a hard time right now remembering the last time we talked. When I first moved, she made me call her at least once a week so she could keep tabs on me but those calls fell by the wayside once J
ette came back into my life.

  I keep replaying the conversation we had when she decided to move in with her sister after Shep’s parents fired her last year. Knowing I didn’t want to move with her but still unsure of where I should go, she simply told me to follow my heart.

  “You’ll not only survive, you’ll thrive wherever you plant your feet, Finley Lawson. You’ve fought your entire life and you deserve to be happy, so go where your heart leads you.”

  I doubt she had any idea how prophetic her words were at the time but they were exactly what I needed to hear at that moment and they led me to the French Quarter and back to Jette.

  Jette.

  God, I sigh and run a hand down my face as my gut twists at the mere thought of her name.

  She has no idea where I am right now and I feel like complete shit for leaving her the way I did. Initially, I only planned to step out of the gallery to give her the opportunity to speak for herself without any added pressure my presence was bringing. The last thing I wanted was for her parents to have any doubt that whatever decision Jette made wasn’t one hundred percent her choice.

  She deserves that.

  Then, I got the call about Maggie from her sister and just started running.

  Thankfully, Shep was at Neutral Grounds when I got there. After I told him what had happened, he jumped into action and bought my plane ticket while I threw some clothes and toiletries in a bag and CeCe scheduled an Uber.

  Now, here I sit, trying not to let my fidgeting upset the man sitting next to me while I deal with my guilt over so many things.

  When I left the gallery and told Jette to call me, I didn’t think she’d wait so long. The whole fifteen-minute ride to the airport, I kept checking my phone.

  During my layover, I powered it back on, expecting a missed call, but nothing.

  So, now my mind is running rampant, thinking the worst. I still can’t believe what I walked in on today—Jette’s parents and Trevor down on one knee.

  Fucking proposing. To my girl.