She treated Laurent like a boyfriend that had cheated on her, but he hadn’t. Two months ago, they had never even met and she still had her own boyfriend. She watched the entire scene unfold at the park between Laurent and the man. Laurent had told the truth. He never knew that woman was married. Whatever reason she had for her infidelity, Laurent had no part in initiating it. The idea that Laurent should be tossed because of a past lover made sense only if something worse were true: That he was right. That her own insecurities and doubts had built a wall between them that she wouldn’t lower.
What did she really want in her personal life? Love. A family. A good man. Her parents loved each other and had set a wonderful example of what she wanted for herself. But things hadn’t worked out for her. She kept saying she wanted a good man and true love. But then she’d go out and pick the wrong man. Men who didn’t say kind, or endearing, things to her. Men who cheated on her. Men who didn’t deeply, passionately love her.
Laurent did love her. She felt it flow from him, and his love laid bare the truth of her own previous boyfriends. Not one of them compared to Laurent. She had to get him back. Calling him up and saying that she’d changed her mind seemed inadequate. He’d have his own doubts about her change of heart. She had left him. Now she needed such a convincing show of commitment that he would know that she intended to stay, and fight through the rough times, for a lasting love.
Her pace quickened as she thought about her options. Before she wanted to be alone, now she wished her sisters were here to give her ideas. She fell back onto the bed and held her hands to her face. Whatever she decided to do, it needed to be soon.
The harder she thought, the further an idea seemed. Nothing. The woman that billion dollar corporations relied on to come up with fresh ideas didn’t have one for her own problem. She grabbed a pillow to scream into it when her stomach grumbled; she froze. Her stomach grumbled again and an idea clicked in her mind. She rolled over to the room phone, dialed the front desk, and ordered a taxi.
A minute later she walked in the elevator and headed to the lobby. She flipped through the restaurants one-by-one in her head. She’d been to all of them today, but that was on a bike. She really didn’t remember how to get to any of them. But she did remember each of their names, and the general section of the city they were in. It should be enough information for any competent taxi driver to figure out.
The doorman held the door for her and she quickly slipped into the waiting taxi. She told the driver where to go, and she followed the stops in the same order that Laurent had earlier. At each restaurant that Laurent had said he liked, she ordered a part of dinner. An appetizer. A soup. Some Salad. A seafood entrée. Then the most decadent dessert she could find.
Food was her enemy. But now she intended to show Laurent otherwise. If she could get past her image issues and bring him a meal as calorie busting as this, then she hoped he’d see that she could move on from her past into a future with him.
Once she had everything, she had the driver bring her back to the hotel. She pleaded with the kitchen manager to let her use the kitchen to heat everything up. They insisted on payment, and she laid down her credit card without hesitation.
Then she took her time to prepare everything and repack it to carry over to Laurent’s restaurant. She walked, the two bags containing her peace-offering meal dangling from each hand. When she reached Laurent’s, she stood outside the door looking in. An early dinner crowd had gathered inside. The wait staff moved deftly from table to table, filling drinks and serving dishes.
She pushed inside, walked past the hostess, and headed straight for the kitchen. That was Laurent’s comfort zone. If he was here, she’d find him in the kitchen. She ignored the stares of patrons and employees as she walked and swung the kitchen door open.
Her eyes found Laurent in a second. His back was to her, but she saw him tense when her eyes past over him. She didn’t wait for him to turn around. Instead she walked up to him. His head turned to her as she laid the carryout on the counter and started unpacking it. He had a pile of uncut vegetables in front of him and he pushed them aside.
“I thought you were leaving?” he asked.
The best meals start with dessert. She pulled the cake out and unpacked it. “I like the food in New Orleans better,” she said. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”
“What are we starting with?” he asked.
“Carmel coma cake,” she said cutting a bite of cake off with her fork, and then feeding it to him.
He ate it in a single bite. “Delicious,” he said, and then he reached over and pulled her in. His lips locked with hers. All her tension melt away and she knew she was home.
Chapter 22
Alicia
Alicia closed the door and tossed her bag on the bed. In five minutes she wanted to be out of these clothes and halfway to the pool. While Erica had to work, and Sara needed to make their dinner arrangements, the only thing she needed to do was to lie out under the sun.
She pulled her pool bag out and filled it with all the essentials for a few hours of lounging around. Because Sara hated it when she wore her skimpier bikinis, she brought along something a bit less revealing. All the men would still stare at her, but that wasn’t her fault and Sara wouldn’t feel as self-conscious.
Both her sisters were beautiful, especially Sara, but they didn’t always think of themselves in that way. She wanted to slap every one of Sara’s boyfriends after they dumped and hurt her sister. How Sara could continually defend them, and then start dating yet another looser, amazed her. But they were sisters. Even though she was the youngest, she had more experience with men than both Erica and Sara put together. It always fell to her to lay out the blunt, matter-of-fact truth of how men really operated.
Her sisters still believed in love, whereas she knew better. Men didn’t do love, they did sex. Lots of it.
She pulled the business card out of her pocket and looked at the room number scrawled on back. A man she flirted with gave it to her in the bar a few minutes ago. He hadn’t even bothered to take his ring off. Married or not, it didn’t matter. Give a man the chance for a new girl to grace their bed, and they all fell over themselves to sneak that girl into their rooms while their wives were out.
She avoided actually sleeping with the married ones, even though she liked seducing them enough that they gave her their numbers. Sometimes she even went so far as to have the married men get a room, but she never showed up. She didn’t care. They spent the money, if they really wanted a girl they could check online and have one in under an hour.
The seduction game was fun years ago. Once she realized that no man would ever love her for anything except what she could give them naked, she gave up the pretense of offering anything more than sex. The rush of seduction, the high she felt when she bent another man to do what she wanted in bed, had lost its thrill. She crumpled the business card up and tossed it into the trash.
She stripped her clothes off and folded them. The bikini hugged her body in all the right places. Her breasts filled out the cups nicely and she pushed them together for a second. She laughed whenever her sisters got upset over her sex talk, but they didn’t understand. She’d never interrupted their vacation together for something as useless as a man. Family meant more to her than any meaningless hookup she could have. There wouldn’t be any male distractions this weekend.
She flung her pool bag over her shoulder, tied a towel around her waist, and then headed downstairs to the pool. All the men she passed turned their heads to watch her as she walked. Most quickly avoided her eyes, if she bothered to look at them. A few gave her hopeful glances, but she ignored them all.
She realized that Sara was probably angry with her. For all her dedication to keep this a girls-only weekend, the idea of actually sleeping with a bonafide celebrity had piqued her interest. Most famous men had their pick of women, so it wouldn’t be hard to actually convince them to sleep with her. But she had never had any opportunity to
really meet any. If the everyday, normal men she usually slept with had lost their thrill, then at least a celebrity had put her head into a rush.
But Sara had been reluctant, and she regretted mentioning it. Instead of thinking of her sisters, she had lost her mind for a moment and thought only of herself. When Sara made it back from making dinner arrangements, she would have to let her know that she wasn’t going to pursue anything romantic. Sara won the prize, and this was their weekend together. She didn’t want to ruin it for the three of them.
She walked into the pool showers and cleaned off before heading to the pool deck. A small crowd rested in the chairs or swam in the pool. No one stood out and she ignored the stares. Sara would be back soon. She pulled two chaise lounges next to each other, threw her bag on one, and laid back in the other.
The chlorine smell permeated the area, and she was tempted to jump into the water to get an initial swim in, but she wanted to rest in the sun first. She pulled her sun glasses over her eyes and sunk back into the lounge chair, oblivious to everyone around her.
***
Peter watched the brunette beauty walk away down the street. He hadn’t expected to ever see her again, but she had come back to confront him in his photo studio. The door clicked shut and he made sure to lock it before going to get a towel, broom, and dustpan.
He’d dated her for only three months and broke it off a week ago, but she didn’t take it very well. Water streaked down the wall where the vase had hit with a larger pool forming on the floor. Glass shards spread in every direction. A flower vase he could handle loosing, if she’d grabbed and thrown one of his very expensive cameras or studio lights, he’d be less forgiving.
Naturally, she said he deserved it.
You’re gay.
It was the same complaint he got from all his girlfriends. He loved wildlife, nature, and the outdoors; but he also photographed landscapes, whether they were in the form of the great outdoors or a woman’s body. Every time he took a picture, he gave his subjects all the artistic care that he could muster. But everyone expected that since he occasionally photographed a naked women or two that he had lots of sex and probably did porn too.
He tossed the towel down on the biggest pool of water and moved it around the floor with his foot. Getting down on his hands and knees would work better, but he was already late for a delivery. Once he got most of the water, he moved on to sweeping the glass.
You never had sex with me. Either you were cheating or you’re gay.
Then she had picked up and thrown one of his flower vases. She’d aimed for his head, but he ducked and it smashed against the wall. It wasn’t fair. He believed in honesty. Right at the beginning, he always told the women he potentially dated that he didn’t play around, and held back from pursuing sex until months into a relationship.
The girls gave him a knowing smile and points for being so chivalrous, but none of them believed him. After all, right on his website, they could see the curves of a woman’s hips, legs, arms, and every other part of her body. Every detail lighted with care and put on display. His photos displayed nothing gratuitous. But his personal reservations about sex didn’t sway anyone. The fact that his female photography was a very tiny part of his business, and one that he didn’t actively promote, didn’t matter.
All everyone noticed was the firm bodies and taut breasts; from that they drew their conclusions on the type of man he was. A player. Someone who loved sex, which he did. But not without a strong commitment. Years ago, he played around. But not now. He had changed that part of his life a long time ago.
If he took down all photographs of woman, and focused on only the outdoors scenery, then his dating life would be so much easier. Girls that valued commitment as much as he did would consider him for dates. Now he couldn’t get within twenty feet of any girl that went to church on more than Christmas and Easter.
He glanced at his phone and cursed. His delivery was already thirty minutes late. He walked to the wastebasket, dumped the glass, and then went over the wrapped, framed photo. The utility dolly sat in the corner where he left it before Kelly arrived. At 2x4 feet the picture was far larger than he could carry without any risk of banging into a door. He unlocked his door and propped it open with a stopper. Then he maneuvered the picture onto the dolly and wheeled it out to his van for delivery. After strapping it down, he locked up and drove to the hotel. He hated being late, especially for as good and loyal a customer the manager had been over the years.
***
Alicia turned over on the lounge chair, looked around for her sisters, and picked up her phone. She had been sunning for over an hour and Sara hadn’t joined her. Erica wouldn’t be done for hours, but making dinner plans shouldn’t have taken Sara this long.
Maybe Sara had decided to try to seduce the celebrity chef herself.
She laughed at the thought. Sara was many things, but her shy, relatively innocent sister wasn’t any type of seductress. She probably decided to have lunch somewhere in the city. That or she was up in her room bemoaning how her bathing suit didn’t look good on her. Considering how beautiful Sara was, her fear was out of place. But no amount of arguing ever convinced Sara otherwise. She scrolled down her address book for Sara’s name, but instead of dialing, she tossed the phone back into her bag.
Whatever Sara was doing, she could let her have a bit more time to finish before calling. She looked around the pool again. A few new faces had shown up. More than a few had turned their heads to her when she had laughed. They probably thought they could get a better view of my breasts.
She swung her legs off the lounge chair, dropped her town onto it, and walked around the pool to the vending machines with a few dollars in her hand. If Erica had to work, and Sara was off doing Lord-knows-what, then she wanted something to eat. A tourist information flyer rack sat next to the vending machines. Rows of pamphlets promoting restaurants, tours, and other attractions filled the rack. She quickly grabbed a few, folded them up, and turned back to the vending machine to make her selection of some chips and water.
“I can’t believe I forgot to bring my own water,” she mumbled to herself. Some of the men quickly turned their heads when she turned back around, but she ignored them as she made her way back to her lounge chair. She tossed the chip bag down. Now that she had them, she didn’t feel hungry.
She could feel the eyes of several of the men crawling over her. Any feeling of excitement she had when men desired her had long since vanished. She wore a bathing suit that screamed for men to watch her, but now that they were, she wanted them to stop. A restlessness and irritability built in her. She tried taking a big gulp of water to wash it away, but it continued to grow. Every time she turned her head, another man turned away. She took her towel and wrapped it around her waist. As soon as she did, she felt better.
It had been a long time since she felt more comfortable with more of herself covered up, but she did. She needed this vacation more than she realized, but didn’t know what she was getting away from back home. Her work seemed stable and money was good. She had all the sex she cared to have and a few good friends. Plus she kept in frequent contact with both Sara and Erica. Even if they couldn’t be together — they called, video chatted, and texted frequently enough that she considered them both close.
She lay back in the lounge chair again and picked up the flyers she had grabbed off the rack. Bicycle tours, bayou tours, culinary tours, and even more tours. If there was anything you wanted to see in New Orleans then there was an organized tour for it. A nighttime bayou tour caught her eye and she decided that this was one she had to do before they left. A sticker on the bottom said they offered discounts if they booked through the hotel. She’d book it for the three of them. That would be her treat for the weekend.
She grabbed her cellphone again and frowned. Where exactly was Sara? Probably still hiding in her room with that bathing suit she hated. Alicia shoved her phone into her bag and gathered her things up. This was a joint trip, no
t a solo outing, and she wasn’t going to stay by the pool alone. If Sara didn’t want to show herself in a certain bathing suit then the only solution was to go shopping for a new one. A few hours wandering the shops, buying things they didn’t need, and taking in the sights of New Orleans on a beautiful afternoon would perk Sara’s spirits up.
She put her sunglasses back on, tossed her bag over her shoulder, and made her way to the reception counter to ask about the tour discount. Tonight they’d probably eat and drink their way through the evening, but tomorrow night would be free. Just because all three of them needed to take a red eye on Monday morning was no reason not to enjoy their last night to the fullest.
Chapter 23
Peter ran the dust cloth down the edges of the frame a final time and stepped back. He smiled. The picture hung perfectly in the hotel’s lobby. He heard someone stop behind him.
“It’s looks splendid,” said the general manager. “I’ve always loved the look of the French Quarter at night.”
“Well I’m glad you like it,” said Peter.
“Let me know when you get some more work shot. We can’t always buy a portrait like this one, but if we can work out a consignment arrangement then I’d be interested in more. We can use some additional work in our hallways and some other areas,” said the manager.
“It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll send over some additional proofs that you might like and we’ll go from there,” said Peter. “But to close out today. Do you have a check ready or will you be mailing it like last time.”
The manager looked at his watch. “No, the check’s ready today. I wasn’t sure if you’d be done before my meeting with some vendors so I left it at the desk. Just tell them I Ok’d the work.” He held out his hand for a quick goodbye, and then turned and left.
Cajun Vacation Page 13
