Hired

by Zoey Castile

  Lots of business that may or may not hurt the city in the long run. Virginia’s husband created policies that would allow for other companies to get bigger tax breaks than the local ones. It’s not blatant, but written in small ways. We look at each other at the same time, and I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing that I am.

  I smile, and she smiles, and it’s on the edge of awkward.

  “Faith, you’re so young,” she says. “I know I’m just being a big old buttinsky, but live your life! You’re only twenty-five!”

  “Twenty-nine, actually,” I say and laugh. “Next month. I’ve always been okay with staying in.”

  “I wish my Lena were more like you,” she says. “Don’t get me wrong. She’s got the Campbell spirit—starting protests with her friends and boycotting nearly everything in sight. I blame my own mother.”

  “You’re a Campbell, too,” I remind her, amused that this is what Virginia Moreaux worries about.

  The woman sighs, her hand out for the nail tech to file into short squares. “A mother’s worst fear is that she won’t do right by her kids. I just want her to succeed. I want her to have all the things that I didn’t. Travel the world. Fall madly in love.”

  “Didn’t you do that?” I ask, trying my best to not be judgmental. “I remember seeing pictures of you from when you were younger. You and Mr. Moreaux in Italy and Hungary.”

  Virginia takes a deep breath and smiles. But I’ve lived my life so long with my mother being in the media and in front of audiences and cameras and constituents. I know what a fake smile looks like. The kind that masks a deep hurt.

  “Oh, of course.” Her voice is airy. “What about you, dear?”

  “Well, after my mother wins,” I say light enough that we both chuckle amicably and everyone around us eavesdropping chuckles as well, “I’d like to return to conservation. There’s so much of this city that we can’t lose to developers.”

  Virginia’s smile becomes genuine. “The apple never falls far from the tree. But what about love? Anyone special in your life?”

  I shake my head. “Not really.”

  That’s when Sunny snorts. And I could kill her. The last thing I need to be doing is talking to Virginia Moreaux like she’s my love therapist.

  “Now, why don’t I believe that?” Virginia says. “You’re positively gorgeous. You’re educated and you’re your own woman. I can see why some of the local men would be intimidated.”

  “You flatter me,” I say, trying to match her tone. “There’s someone. He’s sweet. Kind. I took him to the conservation center.”

  Virginia’s big green eyes go wide. “My, you really put that boy to work. Wherever did you find him?”

  I can’t tell my mother’s opponent’s wife that I picked up a man at a bar. Besides, why am I telling her all of this anyway? All I know is that there is a fluttering sensation in my chest when I think of Aiden. It’s a great big butterfly that turns into a thousand little butterflies, and those go on and on. I feel sick.

  “A mutual friend set us up,” I say, which isn’t not true. “He’s from New York. Which is weird.”

  “A city boy,” Virginia says. “Even better. Make sure you take him for a dinner at Sylvain. I’m sure you have your own connections, but if you can’t get a table, drop my name.”

  I do, as a matter of fact, have my own connections. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

  Sunny starts painting the azalea red on my nails, and she makes a face that tells me she also thinks Virginia is too much.

  “A New York boy,” Virginia continues. “I do hope his football team isn’t set. That might present a conflict with your father.”

  I laugh. “It’s not serious, don’t worry. Plus, I don’t think he’s into football. He was born in Colombia but grew up in New York.”

  “Does he call you ‘mi reina’?” Sunny asks, and the memory of that phrase makes me see that shade of red behind my closed eyelids. My brother-in-law does that.”

  I answer with a restrained chuckle. Beside me Virginia has gone rigid. I shoot Sunny a wink because maybe that’s all it took to make the first lady of New Orleans blush.

  We go through our manicures in pleasant chitchat, commenting on the new menu at Galatoire’s and how we hope it doesn’t rain on the day of the masquerade ball. She no longer pries into my personal life, and other than parties, we don’t talk about the campaign that has linked us this way.

  “What a pretty color,” she tells me as I examine the bright shade, so strange after my usual muted pinks and beige. “Very exotic.”

  I cringe inwardly at the word, but smile all the same. “See you next Friday.”

  There’s something strange about the worry frown on her brow. “Will you be bringing your not-so-serious gentleman?”

  Aiden in a tux? “That’s the plan.”

  “Good for you. Good, good.” She takes a deep breath, pulling her purse open to fish for her lipstick and compact. When I was little, I always admired how she was so put together, like a Barbie. That was before I realized how trapped Virginia Moreaux always seems, a deer skittering around a forest she doesn’t know. She draws on her blush-pink lipstick. My mother doesn’t get to bother with lipsticks because the campaign managers tell her that it’s distracting. And I wonder, why do women always get relegated to two very different types of people? “Take care of yourself, darlin’. It’s important to find someone that makes you radiant from the inside out. Someone who sees you for who you are and not who the world wants you to be. That’s how you make love last, I think.”

  Sunny and I trade confused glances. “Time for your facial, Faith.”

  I don’t have a facial scheduled, but I can tell she’s giving me an out.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Moreaux.”

  And I’m left wondering why a woman like her would say such a strange thing to me.

  17

  Deuces Are Wild

  FAITH

  “She said what?” Angie says. She’s in my backyard in front of the fire, holding a glass of pale pink rosé in her slender hand.

  I told her about my meeting with Virginia Moreaux. She stares into her glass so long I think she’s trying to figure out if something in there is pollen or a bug. I walk round the patio chairs and settle in with my own glass.

  “It was really strange,” I say, scratching my scalp right behind my ear. “But you know, she’s always been weird. Last year during a fund-raiser, she spent half the time in her room drinking and crying. I only noticed because we passed each other in the hallway. It’s so weird.”

  Angie breathes in long and hard, the way she does when she’s about to drop a truth bomb, or tell me she’s bored with my subject. Really, it’s a terrible thing she does, but I wonder if she does it to keep me on my toes.

  “Faith.”

  “Angie?” I giggle.

  “Why are you giggling?”

  “I mean, I thought you would have been all over me after yesterday.”

  She frowns like she truly doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

  “Aiden,” I say. I almost feel stupid saying his name. Aiden. Ayyy. Den. “He spent the night last night.”

  “He did, did he?” She licks the underside of her lip. “I thought you two were done.”

  I shrug and grab the bottle of wine from the chiller. “I don’t know. It was supposed to be a one-and-done thing. He was so embarrassed about the first night. I was embarrassed, too.”

  “You got yours, though,” she says.

  And we cheers to that.

  I take a sip, and the dry, cold wine coats my tongue. The sun shines through the trees gently blowing in the autumn breeze. “I know it doesn’t make sense. But you’re the one who told me that I don’t take risks. I always do what’s expected of me.”

  “I like the nail color choice,” she says.

  “It’s more than that. When I’m with Aiden, I feel like a different person. Like I’m willing to be myself in ways I wasn’t before. I’m still me, it’s jus
t like I’m waking up after being asleep. You tell me all the time that I’m hiding in my mom’s life instead of living my own.”

  “Faith,” she says. “It’s just dick. You can find some anywhere.”

  I grab the pillow and throw it at her. “Why do you have to be so crass?”

  “Have you met me?” She gets up, her coiled curls bouncing as she goes to the deck to grab two bottles of water.

  “Do you not like Aiden or something?”

  “I’m the one who pushed you at him.” I recognize the guilt in her voice.

  “You didn’t push anything I didn’t want. I wanted him from the moment he stood in front of me.”

  “I just want you to be careful. You haven’t had a relationship in two years.”

  “It’s not a relationship,” I say, tracing my finger around the rim of my glass. “I’m not dreaming. I mean, I kind of am. But I know that he’s not staying for a long time. I know that it’s not permanent. I just want to enjoy the time that we have together, you know?”

  “Good,” Angie says.

  The sound of a bell rings out from the front. I slap her knee. “Get that. It’s him. I have to change my clothes.”

  She huffs and puffs, and I give her a kiss on the cheek as I duck into my bathroom to change out of my pajamas.

  AIDEN

  My entire body is buzzing being back here. I get out of the Lyft and smooth down the front of my shirt. I squeeze the bouquet of flowers and look at my reflection in the glass of her front door. Jeans, button-down, and a deep-red blazer. She didn’t want to tell me where we were going, and I figured this combo will make me look equal parts casual and professional.

  I don’t expect that she’s going to take me to some function where her parents are going to be. That’s not where we are. I want to think she’d give me a heads-up, but you never know.

  My thoughts flash to the first school dance I ever had. I was eleven and money was tight, so my mom didn’t have enough money to buy me new clothes. So she tailored one of my dad’s shirts. My ma was fucking magical with her sewing machine. She made me a tie out of the bottom of navy-blue curtains. The shoes were borrowed from one of the older kids in the neighborhood.

  “You look great, papito. No matter what you wear,” she said. Then she made the sign of the cross over my body and kissed my forehead.

  Truth is, I don’t know if I looked terrible or not. I remember that there was a boy in my school who made fun of my “Dollar Store Outfit.” And the girl that I liked who laughed at me. And the guy’s friend who saw a thread on my shoulder and pulled at it, so the whole shoulder came undone.

  I can’t fucking think about that shit. That was the past. This is the present. The future, if I’m even a little bit lucky. I slap my cheek and hold the flowers behind my back and ring the door.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asks me.

  “Hey, Angie,” I say, my body deflating a little at the sight of her. But then panic surges again. Did she tell Faith about Ginny? Did she blow up my spot?

  “You can relax,” she says, letting me inside. There’s a glass of wine in her hand, and by the way she rolls her eyes at me, I know that I’m in the clear. “Faith’s getting ready.”

  “Listen, Angie,” I say.

  “Angelique.”

  “Listen, Angelique,” I say again. “I know I told you that I was going to tell her the truth but I couldn’t.”

  “So you took her to bed instead.”

  I blank. “Wow, you’re really straightforward, aren’t you?”

  “Are you not used to forward women?”

  I shrug and take the seat across from her at the kitchen island. “You should meet my tía Ceci. I have a feeling you’d get along famously. Anyway, I’m going to tell her.”

  She shakes her head. “Don’t.”

  I frown. Run my hand along the side of my hair. “I’m really getting whiplash here. I don’t know what to do. Everyone in my life is telling me the opposite thing to do. Fallon is like one thing and Ricky is another. You’re a whole other category.”

  “Listen to me,” she says, and her sweet accent dances with the wine on her tongue. “None of us matter. I’ve never seen Faith as happy as she is these last days with you. She’s no fool. She knows you’re leaving.”

  Only, with the opportunity that Ricky’s presented me with, I’m not sure if I am. Would I really stay if Faith asked me to? I never planned on being here, on staying. Then again, I never planned on meeting her. On tasting her. On finding myself deep inside her beautiful, sweet pussy.

  I clear my throat. “I appreciate the advice.”

  “Don’t appreciate it,” Angelique says. “If you hurt her, I’ll cut off your favorite part of your body.”

  “My hair?” I ask, and wink, and even Angelique throws her head back and laughs at that.

  It’s the perfect moment, really, because that’s when Faith walks into the kitchen. In dark jeans and a blue top, she looks casual and sweet. Her hair is in soft waves over her shoulders, and I want to lick that sticky gloss off her mouth, feel the back of her throat.

  “Well, I’m glad you two are getting along,” she says.

  * * *

  Faith takes me to a small diner called Millie’s.

  We stand out, but I think I stand out about most places when I’m here. There are some girls at a table coloring the thin placemats covered in alligators and fish, their hair segmented in rows of braids with colorful bows. A row of old men in fedoras and dress clothes line the diner’s countertop.

  When they all see Faith, they have a smile reserved for her, and I know that she’s brought me somewhere that means a lot to her.

  “It’s nothing fancy,” Faith says. “But my mom worked here when she was putting herself through college.”

  She sits in the booth across from me. I take her hands in mine, loving the way she receives my touch with a tender smile and the flutter of her lashes. I feel her cross her legs, and I wonder if the flutter applies to the spot between her legs.

  “Hey, stranger,” a young woman says. The waitress has dark skin and a yellow dress that places her in a different time period. “What do we have here?”

  “Aiden,” I say and hold my hand out.

  “Jade,” she says, giving me her fingers, like I’m meeting royalty. It seems to be in good humor, and Faith is giggling behind her menu.

  I follow Jade’s lead and kiss the top of her hand. “Good to meet you, Jade.”

  “Jade, oh my god,” Faith says, and hides behind the menu as if I can’t see her. “We’ll have some pecan pie and coffee. Where are the folks?”

  Jade exhales like she’s been holding a great burden. “They left me all by myself. Went down to Pensacola for their anniversary. Don’t worry, they’ll be back for the primaries.”

  “There was no doubt in my mind,” Faith says.

  “Milk and sugar?” Jade asks us both.

  “Yes,” I say, and she runs back behind the counter.

  Jazz music pumps from the speakers in the corners of the diner. There’s a lot of wear on the ceiling, but the countertops are clean and shiny, like they’ve recently been replaced. I take Faith’s hands in mine again. In the soft afternoon light, with her hair down and her cheeks glowing like she’s been thoroughly fucked for hours, I feel like the proudest man alive. Because I put that glow there. At least, I hope I did.

  “I like your nails,” I tell her, holding up her hands. The lacquer is smooth under my thumbs.

  “You noticed,” she says, genuinely surprised.

  “I notice everything about you, Faith.”

  “It’s not something men usually do,” she says.

  “That’s crap,” I say. “If a guy doesn’t notice it’s because he’s too busy to care or he actually doesn’t. When I was a kid, I watched as my dad ignored the way my mom got her hair done and tried her best to look nice for him. To make him happy. I told myself that I would never be that way.”

  “So you pay attent
ion to show affection.”

  “And because I love looking at you. I could look at you every second of every day and never be tired of it.”

  She narrows her eyes at me, like she’s trying to figure out if she can call bullshit on my words. She doesn’t.

  “Well, what I noticed when I saw you was that this is a jacket I haven’t seen before.” She leans forward. Her fingers trace the front of my blazer. Even through the layers of fabric, her touch ignites a primal want within me.

  “I took your advice and met my friend Ricky,” I say, holding her hands up to my lips. I kiss every knuckle. “He took me shopping.”

  That makes her laugh. “I’m sad I missed it. Was there a montage of you trying on different outfits? Because I’d pay to see that.”

  “I’d pay to see that, too,” Jade says, appearing with the tray of our food.

  “I wouldn’t,” one of the men at the counter mutters into his coffee.

  “Go on, get,” Faith says, and shoos the grinning girl away.

  “I hope you’re ready for the best slice of pie you’ve ever had,” Faith tells me.

  I grab a fork. “I have to tell you, I’ve never had pecan pie.”

  Her eyes widen. “I’m about to change your life.”

  I lean forward, lower my voice so only she can hear me. “You already did that last night, Faith.”

  When she closes her eyes, I can see her long lashes touch her cheeks, and that motion is so sweet, so sexy, so telling of what she’s thinking about that I’m hard. I’m so fucking hard at Millie’s diner holding a forkful of pie. All because of her eyelashes.

  “Talk to me after you’ve had your first bite,” she says.

  It really is the most delicious thing I’ve had in a long time. Well, second, when it comes to her.

  “This party next week,” I say, leaning back in the booth. “Should I do anything to prepare for it?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like meet your parents? I don’t know, I feel like I might be crashing something important. I just don’t want them to be surprised when they see me.”

  She takes another bite of her pie. “My mom has already run a background check on you.”