Devil's Food at Dusk

by Anna Martin

  He missed Joe. He missed him a lot. He hated himself for it. Remy spent a lot of time hating himself lately. He spent a lot of time hating everything.

  Maybe it was time to start looking for another job. Money was money, and he didn’t have any of it. Perhaps it was time to move on.

  Chapter Thirteen

  New Orleans felt completely different the second time around. Joe didn’t know what exactly was going to happen. But he did know it felt completely right to be there. That getting into a cab and going back to the French Quarter felt like coming home to where he belonged. What he didn’t know was if he’d be leaving again as soon as he was finished. It didn’t matter. He was going to do it anyway whether he got to stay and see the fruits of his labor or not. He was going to fix everything he’d broken and try to get back the life that he’d barely tasted but already missed more than anything.

  He’d talked to Tom a few times over the past three weeks. Tom, who’d gone back and forth just like Joe had about whether he’d made the right choice for his sons or the worst decision ever. Sal had been a good talker, apparently. Sal was also apparently quite good at getting what he wanted—like the finder’s fee for getting Tom to sign over the restaurant. Joe felt himself gritting his teeth when he thought of Remy’s brother. He’d been so desperate to make the deal and get his bosses off his ass that he hadn’t thought too much about who he was getting into bed with until after the sheets were all messed up.

  Bed. Joe’s throat tightened every time he thought about it.

  He’d missed it so much. More than he’d missed anything in his life. And it wasn’t just the sex, although he spent a lot of time thinking about that too. Joe had gotten used to having Remy in his arms. He’d been sleeping horribly on his own, in his big, cold bed in LA. He was supposed to be in Houston in a week to do the same thing all over again. Joe didn’t know if he could. He felt like his soul was drained. He got out his cell.

  “Hey, Tom. I’m here,” he said when Tom answered. “How’s the building looking?”

  “I like it. You have good taste. It’s not cheap.”

  Joe didn’t care. He had savings. He’d been making a lot of money for years. He wanted to do it, whether Remy forgave him or not. He was hoping he could start a new life, find a different job, and just stay. Any part of that would be fine with him.

  “I’ll be at the Bourbon Orleans.” He’d originally planned to get a room out of the French Quarter so he couldn’t run into Remy, but Joe couldn’t stand to. New Orleans was the French Quarter for him, the old buildings, the smells, and the music. It was what had seeped into his soul, and he needed it back. Part of him wondered if he’d stay even if Remy said no. Everything back in Los Angeles had felt so fake.

  “Let me know when you’re settled in and you want to take a look at the property.”

  * * *

  The restaurant was perfect. At least Joe thought so. It wasn’t as big as Lumiere’s old building all around, but the dining area itself would have nearly twice the seating if Remy wanted it to. It also had a beautiful outdoor courtyard that could have seating or a garden. The kitchen was nice too—brand-new white paint, empty and ready for whatever cooking suite Tom told Joe to buy. He was going to make it perfect. Make it everything Remy could possibly want—new, top-of-the-line industrial refrigerators and freezers, lots of counters. Everything he could need.

  “I think this is it. I’m ready to sign the check,” Joe said.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Tom asked. It wasn’t the first time.

  He’d been worried from the start. From the first day Joe had called him from LA and told him what he wanted to do with his last three Christmas bonuses. And maybe a good chunk of his savings as well. But the answer was yes. Joe wasn’t in the life-ruining business, no matter how much of a sleaze he’d appeared at first. He didn’t like the idea of screwing with people’s dreams. He hated the idea that he might have ruined Remy’s. This place, it wasn’t Lumiere, it wasn’t tradition, but it was good, and it was part of the French Quarter that Remy loved so much, close to the markets, close to his family’s home. Maybe Remy could make some new traditions in a building that had been renovated. It was small and quaint, but spacious and light. When Joe thought of the name Lumiere, he figured it would fit perfectly. He only hoped Remy would think so too. And forgive him.

  “Let’s do it. Call up the broker, and let’s get the deal on the table before someone else makes an offer.”

  It only took an hour or two to get the ball rolling. Joe had more than enough experience, and while he didn’t have a corporation behind him on this deal, he had a hell of a lot of know-how, and he’d offered the asking price after all. There wasn’t much deliberating to do. There were a lot of pages to initial and sign, though, and copies to be made. Piles of papers. At least he wasn’t getting a loan. A cash sale would still have to go through closing, but it was mostly finished right then and there. And when he showed Remy the building, he’d hand him a pen and sign the deed over.

  Remy would have his restaurant back—just slightly altered.

  While the deal itself was quick, the closing took a little while. It always did. Joe didn’t want to leave town. He hated the idea of flying back to LA, but at the same time he was in a sort of limbo. He couldn’t just find Remy, not at any of his usual haunts. Joe didn’t want to go to Remy until he had everything set up. Until he could fix the mess he’d made. He did wander around the farmers’ market for a few days, check out the Garden District, the fish market. Places that, oddly or not, reminded him of the time he’d spent with Remy.

  He kept wondering if they’d run into each other, wondering what he’d do if they did. He had an easy way of explaining why he was in the city. Renovation on Lumiere had begun, and Joe was quite sure someone incompetent was in charge of the project. Howard had already tried to call him a number of times. Joe hadn’t picked up the phone.

  One night, the night before the sale was supposed to close, he finally did answer when his boss called. He didn’t want to talk to him, but he figured he had to. He’d been ignoring his life for too many days in a row, and that never seemed to work out well for him. Chaos came from him letting too many of his the balls he was constantly juggling fall to the ground. Howard was one of them. Maybe it was time to put that ball aside and let someone else deal with it.

  “Hey, Howard.”

  “Fitz. I’m glad I caught you. Listen, I know you’re supposed to be on vacation for another two days, but there’s some huge fuckup going on in the New Orleans property. Could I get you to head east and check it out before you hit Houston?” Howard sounded out of breath and annoyed. Joe imagined he would be annoyed, trying to deal with the shit Joe usually had to answer the phone for.

  “Actually, I’m already in New Orleans.”

  The relief nearly poured through the cell line. “Fantastic. Can you head over to the site tomorrow and knock those assholes into line? I don’t know what the hell is going on, but it’s a mess.”

  Joe hesitated for a long moment before he shook his head. Then he realized he was actually going to have to talk. “No, Howard. I can’t.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t. You okay?”

  “Yeah. But I think I’m going to have to quit.”

  Silence. Joe got a good fifteen seconds of silence. He wasn’t even sure if he’d really meant to say that, but after it was out, hell, nothing had felt so good in a long, long time. Yes. Joe quit. He wasn’t going back to that job, and he didn’t want to.

  “What do you mean, you’re going to quit?”

  “I… this last job left an awful taste in my mouth. I just—I quit. You don’t want to hear a big list of reasons.” Just the facts. Howard probably didn’t care what the hell Joe did as long as his deals got landed and shit went the way he wanted it to.

  “You can’t quit. We’ve still got Houston and San Antonio to open before we head West. Vegas,” Howard said in an enticing voice. “I think we’re going to get that sp
ot inside Planet Hollywood. Tell me you’d want anyone else in charge of that location. Nobody could do it like you can, and you know it.”

  “I don’t want to do it, Howard. I need to quit.”

  “You can’t quit,” Howard repeated.

  Joe felt a smile cracking his face. Finally. Maybe he wasn’t going to be with Remy anymore, but something had changed, and he felt just that much more right. “Yeah, I can quit. I’m not going to give you two weeks’ notice because we all know I’d have to be in Houston much longer than that, and it’s better to have someone else start that job. We have the property all picked and ready to go. Send Lauren. She’s great at tying up deals.”

  “I don’t want to send Lauren. You’re my closer, Fitzy. I don’t like it when you’re not there making sure the deal goes right. Don’t make a big mistake, Joe. You’ll regret this.”

  “Maybe. But I think I’d regret not doing it a hell of a lot more. I think this is good-bye, Howard. Thank you for everything. Have a good night.”

  Joe ended the call, put the phone down next to him on the itchy hotel bed, and for the first time in weeks, he smiled a real smile. He had stuff in the LA office. Nothing that he’d miss. There was stuff in his condo too. He’d probably have to go back for that. But he’d sell the place, replace a little of what had recently disappeared from his savings. Move on. Hopefully to New Orleans, but somewhere. Joe needed a change. He couldn’t go back to who he was after everything that had happened.

  * * *

  Remy had spent a lot of time in the past week wandering around the farmers’ market. Lumiere had closed, served its last piece of drunken devil cake, and shut its doors forever. It was in the middle of becoming some trashy tourist mecca, and nothing was the same. Remy would be lying if he said he didn’t feel completely lost. His mother had started leaving cards for restaurants lying on the kitchen counter. Restaurants Remy had no interest in working at. He supposed he’d need to start making some calls soon. Life had been really awkward at home the past few weeks, and he didn’t know how much longer he could stand it.

  He picked up a few squashes and put them down, then wandered over to a bright display of apples. Remy was about to pick one out when he bumped into a solid masculine wall of flesh.

  “Oops. Sorry,” he muttered. He looked up and— “What the hell?”

  “Hi.”

  Hi? Hi? What the hell did Joe think he was going to accomplish with a fucking hi?

  “Why are you here?” Remy snapped. “Haven’t you done enough damage, or are you here to watch and cackle like some cartoon villain while they take my life apart and turn it into tacky plastic paradise?”

  Joe shook his head. It was weird to think his name again, Remy decided. He’d been actively trying to put it out of his head for days.

  “I’m not here with the company,” he said.

  “Then what are you doing? Come to watch me figure out what the fuck to do with the rest of my life?” He probably sounded like a baby, but Remy really didn’t care. It still hurt to think of all the pretty things Joe had said to him and how little any of them had meant. “I’ll give you a spoiler. I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m going to do. It might be a long show.”

  “No. Not at all. That’s not why I’m here either.” Joe looked worried. He did that little sigh-mouth-wiggle thing when he was nervous. Remy knew it so well. “Listen, I have something to show you. Can I show you?”

  “What the hell could you possibly show me? I’m not going to look at them gutting my restaurant.”

  “I already told you I wasn’t here with Pineapple Joe’s. I don’t even work for them anymore. That’s not where I want to take you.”

  “You… what?” That last statement didn’t compute. Joe was his job. He was the high-stakes, slick developer who didn’t give a crap about anything other than closing the deal. How could he not be that anymore?

  “I quit. I just, well, the job got a little unethical for my taste, and I didn’t want to do it anymore, so I quit.”

  “Could you not have had that epiphany before you raped and pillaged my life?” Remy spat out.

  “No. I think it took you to change me.”

  “Fantastic.” It was just as he’d planned. Only a lot too late.

  “Can you please just come with me?”

  “Grace and my grandma are waiting at home for me to bring back fruit for breakfast. Whatever you have to show me is going to have to wait.”

  “I’ll just come with you.”

  “No.”

  “Please. I’m really trying to make it up to you here,” Joe said.

  Remy just shook his head. “How could you possibly? Unless you want to turn back the clock and magically give me my restaurant back, there’s nothing you can do.”

  “Please let me try.”

  Remy narrowed his eyes. “No.”

  He trailed around the market with Joe right on him. Joe refused to leave Remy alone, and Remy refused to talk to him. He picked out some blackberries and blueberries and visited the stand that sold fresh yogurt and raw honey. Then he took his purchases, slid them into the cloth bags he’d brought with him, and headed for home. With Joe behind him. Still.

  “Whatever you did, whatever you want to show me, it’s not going to make up for the fact that you screwed me over. You know that, right?”

  “I know. I still have to do it.”

  “Fine.” As much as he wanted nothing to do with the entire situation that was his life, Remy didn’t have the energy to keep Joe from following him. So he let him into the house where Grace and Estelle were waiting for breakfast.

  “What’s he doing here?” Grace practically growled.

  “Claws in, little one. He’s not going to do anything,” Remy said.

  “There’s nothing left to do. He’s already ruined our family and your life.”

  “You can give Dad and Sal some credit for that too, you know,” Remy said. “They were very happy to do exactly what he wanted.”

  “Sal did contact me initially,” Joe muttered. “Not that I should’ve said yes. But he did.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” Remy said. “Asshole. Christmas is going to be lovely around this house, this year. Can’t wait.”

  “Rems, you don’t have to buy me anything,” Grace said. “I know you don’t have a job anymore.”

  Remy almost laughed, because he knew that wasn’t Grace being sweet to him. That was her being a dickhead to Joe, and he loved the hell out of her for it. “Thanks, Chicken. Hopefully I’ll have one by then.”

  “Can we go?” Joe asked. “I’d like to do this now.”

  “Oh, would you?” Remy rolled his eyes. “Well let me hop to it so I don’t keep you waiting.”

  He gave his sister and his grandmother a kiss and followed Joe back out the door and onto the street. “I can’t believe I’m actually going with you.”

  “I think, or at least I hope, that you’ll be happy you did.”

  * * *

  Remy had no idea where Joe had led him. They were only a few blocks from home, but he’d never been there before—it wasn’t on his way to or from any of his usual haunts. It was an empty restaurant, old like everything else, but in surprisingly good condition.

  “What is this place?” he asked.

  “Come look inside,” Joe said instead of giving him a proper answer.

  Joe unlocked the front door and let Remy explore.

  The kitchen was gorgeous, filled with every appliance Remy could want, top-of-the-line, exactly what he’d have picked. The dining room was empty, a blank canvas. It had a courtyard and a stained-glass front door. It was absolutely beautiful. He just didn’t understand what the point was. Did Joe just want to take him to another place he couldn’t have?

  “This is your restaurant. If you want it.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Remy turned and stared at Joe, who looked very serious, in fact.

  “I am. I told you you’d changed me, and I hated myself for what I’d done t
o you. This is the only way I can think of to make it up to you.”

  “What’s the rent on this place?” Remy asked. Joe might have bought some fancy cooking appliances, but if he couldn’t make even the first monthly payment, there was no point.

  “No rent. I bought it.”

  Remy choked on air. Joe gestured to a stack of papers sitting on one of the cooktops.

  “What’s that?” Remy asked. His pulse had caught in his throat. It couldn’t be what he thought it was.

  “It’s the deed. I signed it over to you. Now you just have to sign too, and this place is yours to do whatever you want with.”

  “You… bought me a restaurant? The whole thing?”

  Joe nodded. “Yes. And I’ll help you find financiers, get your advertising going. I’ll make this work for you, if you want me to. I wanted to do it.”

  “Why?”

  Joe gave him a long look. “Because I love you, Remy. I realized far after it was too late that I shouldn’t have done what I did to you, and I hate myself for it. I love you. I need you to be happy.”

  Remy felt it bubbling up inside of him, laughter, tears, incredulity. All at the same time. “You bought me a restaurant.” He laughed through watery eyes. “Are you insane?” Nobody did crazy, impulsive things like that. Nobody.

  “I bought you a restaurant. Andre too if he wants to come here, and maybe Grace someday if she doesn’t change her mind after school.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Remy wandered around the kitchen, running his hands over the shiny new cooking suite, the perfect ovens, the top-of-the-line brick oven in the corner. It was beautiful. All of it.

  “Your father went around checking out properties for me. We both thought this was the best one. He helped me get this kitchen ready too, told me what you’d always dreamed of buying for Lumiere.”