“See you ‘round, Amelie.”
“Bye, Jimmy. Have fun watching your friend’s band.”
I’m the only bartender on duty tonight even though it’s Friday. We used to have two and sometimes three bartenders working on Fridays but Ellen said we need to tighten our belts in order to afford the new upgrades. I don’t bother reminding her that a literal billionaire is paying for the upgrades and that he could also probably afford to pay one more bartender. I doubt it would budge her hard Texan soul. The woman might as well be an armadillo. And her fat cat boss must be the stingiest billionaire out there. Or maybe all billionaires are stingy, who knows. Maybe that’s how they get to be billionaires in the first place.Assholes.
There must be a conference in town because there are a lot of people in suits here tonight.
“You’re gorgeous,” one of them slurs. “You wanna come back to my hotel with me? It’s only a few doors down.” A few of his companions leer and laugh.
“No thanks, Casanova.” Some customers make it harder to be polite than others but I’m a pro at this point. “But I’d behappy to get you and your friends a drink if you tell me what you’d like.”
Lenny starts up on the piano and I’m run off my feet for a while.
I notice a guy sitting at the end of the bar. I didn’t see him come in. He’s wearing a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and sunglasses. Which might seem weird in a bar when it’s already dark outside, but nothing fazes me at this point. This is New Orleans, after all, and we’re only a few weeks out from Mardi Gras. If anything, I’d say this guy is more conservative than most. He looks … strong. Not just in a physical way either, but in an existential one too. Like he’s grounded and somehow fully realized. His black shirt hugs his broad shoulders.
I don’t usually notice details like the shape of some guy’s shoulders, but the sheer size of him is sort of … impressive.
Clearing up a few glasses, I serve a few more drinks, but I can’t help subtly watching him as I do this. I’ve never once seen a guy that stood out from a crowd more than this man does, even though all he’s doing is sitting there listening to Lenny play. And occasionally watching me, I think, although I can’t be sure about that because of the glasses. He’s not even staring into his phone like most people do when they’re at the bar alone.
I go down to the end of the bar to where he’s sitting. “What can I get for you, sir?”
His eyes are barely visible through his sunglasses, but when our eyes do meet, he slowly slides them off and sets them down on the bar. There’s a hint of amusement in him at my use of the wordsir.
Wow.
He’s very good-looking.
Like,amazinglygood-looking, in a low-key, no-big-deal-to-him kind of way. He wears his seasoned, laid-back charisma like a second skin he’s unaware of. His eyes are a vivid shade of blue-green that’s striking even in the dimly lit bar and rimmed with dark lashes.
Damn.
There’s a depth to him I don’t see around here all that often. You can almost tell just by looking at him that he’s level-headed, in control, and that he knows stuff other people never will. But also that he’s got a dark side. Not evil dark. More like he knows what he wants and he’ll go to any lengths to get it.
And if you’re wondering how I know all this from one brief encounter, it’s because I’ve spent my entire life waitressing and tending bar, even when I was technically too young to be doing it legally. My dad didn’t really care about details like that. I could have a PhD in Reading People’s Personalities In A Single Glance by now. Anyway, the whole cocktail of Mr. Dark and Gorgeous is kind of blowing my mind a little. I have no idea why. His whole vibe is giving hot, untouchable apex alpha. And, yes, I realize how that sounds but there it is.
“I’ll have a Dos Equis, if you’ve got it.”
Not even with a chaser, which means he’s probably not a desperado, and he sure doesn’t look like one. “I’ve got it. You want lime?”
“Sure.”
He’s watching me with a slow, quiet fascination that matches my own and somehow mingles with it, touching it in a way that feels intimate. Like there’s no one else in this barexcept me and him. His voice is deep with the slightest rough husk to it that gives me tiny goosebumps and sends a crazy thought through my head that I have no idea where the hell it comes from.
What I’m thinking is,if this one asked me to go down to the Town Hall, I’d be tempted to follow him anywhere.
5
One hour earlier…
We enterthe French Quarter and the city shifts, like a sultry key change in a piece of music. The streets narrow and the distinctive French and Spanish architecture take on another level of gaudy flair.
The real-flame lanterns flickering at every doorway add to the city’s romantic appeal. Paint peels from iron lacework balconies. Colorful Mardi Gras beads are still caught on many of the railings, from God knows which year. They consider it a part of the decorating down here and it’s one of the many things I love about this city.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out to make sure it’s not one of my brothers. I always answer if it’s them, or Todd. But everyone else, like this call from a newbie growth equity associate who should be calling his immediate boss andnot me, can definitely wait. I mute the call and shove my phone back into my pocket.
I’m enjoying the drive, for once. I don’t want distractions.
The scent of this city is so distinct. River water and Cajun spices mixed with a sweet, almost floral decay, like some exotic fruit left in a warm room just past ripeness.
