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“There’s something wrong.”
“Okay.” Her head jerks up, and the fork stops. I judge the distance between her plate and my eye and back up a step. “Other than the curse? Other than the fact that I’m basically a prisoner? Other than…ugh, never mind. There isn’t any point in going over this. I just…there are some things I want to keep private. After we go to my apartment, I need to check on my dad. He’ll be wondering what happened to me. I can’t just call or text, and I’m not going to explain why that is. It’s something I want to do alone.”
“I’m not letting you go alone.” Right. So, apparently, I’ve now adopted the white knight in shining armor, prince coming to save the damsel-in-distress persona. “The curse! I mean, it’s unpredictable, right? Until we figure it out, I think we shouldn’t split up. I’ll drive you. I can wait in the car.”
Ellis wears skepticism well. But then again, I think she wears all looks well. And t-shirts and jeans. And form-fitting little black dresses. “Isn’t that still splitting up?”
“At least I’ll be close by if shit goes down.”
She moves her hands to her hips. “What kind of shit do you anticipate happening?”
“I think it’s better not to brainstorm. It might give the ring strange ideas.”
“Oh really?” she snorts sarcastically.
“Finish your stir-fry, and let’s hit the road.”
“I changed my mind. You’re not just a rich asshole. You’re a bossy, commanding, self-centered, witty but not in a good way, blustering, controlling rich asshole.”
“Mmmhmm. Okay. I really do just want to keep you safe.”
“Yeah, right.”
I nod and finish off the rest of my food like I’m a vacuum. “So,” I say as I wipe my face with a napkin. If someone tells you it’s possible to eat stir-fry in a dignified manner, and it contains noodles, they are straight-up lying. “I noticed your new description of me didn’t contain the fact that I’m a bad artist. You must have changed your tune after you gave it a try.”
“Whatever,” Ellis mumbles, twirling her noodles with her fork. “I’m not going to give you the satisfaction, so don’t even bother.”
“The satisfaction of what?”
“Of validating your art. I still think it looks like garbage.”
“But skilled garbage, you have to admit.”
I think I see her lips twitch, and an insane bolt of even more insane happiness goes straight to my gut like someone just threw a lightning rod at me. Who is the god of storms again? Zeus? Bastard.
“I’m not admitting anything.”
“Do I detect a hint of grudging respect?”
“You detect a hint of this.” She holds out her left fist and cranks with her right, and slowly, her middle finger comes up. All I can see is the ring on her finger. My ring.
Ellis picks up her fork and tackles the rest of her food. Slurppppp. A noodle smacks her straight in the forehead since she sucks so hard. I barely hold in a laugh. She picks it off, puts it to the side, and keeps going without batting an eye.
Wow. What a freaking woman! I’ve never met anyone who could get a noodle wet willy and not bat an eye. I stand there watching Ellis in that tight black dress, a dress I think Leandra might have purposely chosen because she wanted to play a joke on me or get me back for all those times I messed up her dates by scaring off potential—asshole—boyfriends.
Ellis doesn’t seem to mind at all that I’m watching her, and her confidence is crazy inspiring. She might be infuriating, but she’s also just so…so unique.
“Alright then, if you’re driving, let’s go. But you have to promise to wait in the car. If you don’t, I swear I will chop your finger off and make you eat it.”
“Ouch. Well, on the list of things that could be cut off, I suppose that’s one of the more merciful body parts.”
I have my keys hanging by the front door even though the garage is closer to the back way out of the kitchen. I guess I’ve always walked around the house to get there, and I have no idea why. The whole thing is shaped funny, but I guess it’s what I get when I buy an ancient historic house in a historic part of the city. Garages came later, and they have to go where there’s room to stick them, which is preferably out of sight because tourists don’t like to look at things like that. So yes, my garage is located around the back, just off the fenced backyard. It’s only a two-car garage, but again, sacrifices must be made if I want to live here. And I do. All my life, I wanted a house in the French Quarter. I didn’t need it as validation since I was rich my whole life. I just…I don’t know. Liked it and wanted it. I love NOLA, and to me, this is the heart of the city. Even if it’s not the typical idea of someone’s dream house and location when thinking about a rather unlimited budget, it is mine.
