by Lea Coll
I walked toward the streetcar stop since it ran twenty-four hours a day.
An unkempt man walked by in clothes that hung off him and I resisted covering my mouth at his stench as he approached with a toothless grin. “Can you help me?”
“No, I don’t carry any cash.” I’d learned to say that from the times I’d visited Baltimore. There, people posed as homeless to make money. I shivered despite the warm air and rubbed the goosebumps on my arms. Luckily, he kept walking. I probably should have taken an Uber.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A frustrated voice came up behind me, startling me.
I turned to see Gabe stalking toward me. “Going home.”
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“I was going to take the streetcar.” What I liked about the city when I had considered taking this job was that it was pretty easy to get around between the streetcars, Uber, and cabs in the touristy areas. I didn’t have the added expense of a car and I didn’t need to worry about parking.
“Streetcars aren’t safe at night. I’ll call you an Uber.” He stopped and pulled out his phone.
“Thanks for telling me.” No one mentioned that, but other than the other attorney my age, Hadley, I hadn’t socialized with anyone.
When he was done, he stepped back against the wall to avoid an intoxicated college-aged
group passing us. Leaning against the wall, he was more relaxed than I’d seen him all day.
“I’m sorry if I was an asshole earlier.” He shrugged as if to say this is who I am.
“Okay.” I had not expected an apology, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Isaac put him up to it.
“I’m not someone you should be around.”
There was a vulnerability in his eyes that made me curious as to why he thought that about himself, but I was supposed to be dealing with Isaac on this. “I talked to Isaac and he’s willing to introduce me to the other business owners, so we don’t need to interact.”
“We had a deal. Not Isaac.” Teasing made his face look younger, softer, and more approachable. “You fill in as a waitress until Isaac hires someone and I’ll introduce you to Omar.”
I was a little thrown by his change in personality. Did he feel badly for what he’d said about me? Did he know he was wrong?
Gabe’s eyes pleaded with me. “Will you give me another chance?”
I wanted to ask why I should. He’d effectively pushed me away. Isn’t that what he wanted? When I didn’t answer right away, he continued, “I want to take on more responsibility at the bar and what better way than to help Isaac and you with this?”
“Okay.” He’d made a good point and seemed to have a valid reason to help me.
“Have you had beignets at Café du Monde in the French Quarter yet?” he asked, his eyes searching my face.
“No, I haven’t.” I wanted to go there. Everyone raved about their beignets and French-roast coffee.
“Let me make up for being an asshole.”
“Okay.” His delivery was gruff but sent a tingle down my spine similar to the one I’d felt when he’d brushed past me in the office. I’d never experienced anything like that before.
“Can I put my number in your phone? So we can figure out a date and time?”
I hesitated, unsure if this was a good decision. I barely knew this man.
“You can always block me later,” Gabe said, as if sensing my concern.
“Sure.” I handed him my phone and waited for him to input his information and text himself.
“There. I'll text you.” A car pulled to a stop in front of us and Gabe moved to open the door. “Your Uber.”
I climbed inside the car but when I went to pull the door closed, Gabe’s hand held onto it. “Isaac told me you didn’t want to be paid for your time.”
I shook my head. “You’re helping me, and trust me, the tips were more than enough.”
He smiled like he was pleased by my comment. “Have a good night.”
“You too.”
Before he closed the door, his face was open, his eyes vulnerable, and I thought I saw longing in them. I didn’t take my eyes from his retreating form as the car pulled away from the curb.
Chapter Four
TAYLOR
I woke up Friday morning in my new one-bedroom rental in the heart of the Garden District. The neighborhood reminded me of home with its historic homes, wrought iron gates, and large balconies. My rental was located in a white-siding shotgun house with tall black shutters, which was unique to New Orleans—long narrow homes with the rooms lined up in a row. My room was on the second story in the back of the house and the best feature was the tiny balcony on the back of the building overlooking the backyard. I checked my phone to see if I had time to drink my coffee on the balcony before work, and found a text waiting for me.
Gabe: Can you get coffee and beignets at ten?
I’d worked every night this week at the bar. Gabe had been polite, but he hadn’t mentioned breakfast again. The combination of his change in attitude the night he called an Uber and his insistence on taking me out for breakfast felt a little date-like and I wondered if he’d changed his mind.
Taylor: Of course. It’s a work meeting after all :).
I knew he worked late and hadn’t expected him to want to get together early. I started a pot of coffee before I jumped in the shower and spent time blow drying my hair. I popped an egg muffin I’d made earlier in the week into the microwave while I poured a cup of coffee and added creamer. It was so different than my life at home, where I’d get breakfast for Caleb and watch TV with him before I went to work. Here, I only had myself to think about.
I had hoped it would be a freeing experience, but instead I felt achingly alone at times. My weekly phone calls with my family deepened my guilt over leaving them, although they never said anything to make me feel that way.
I took my plate and mug outside where it was already muggy. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to the heat here. In Maryland, I experienced all four seasons, while here, it would be varying degrees of warm all year round. Although I figured the locals might have a different definition of cold than I did.
Part of the reason I’d taken this position was the adventure being in New Orleans offered. I’d never gone away to school. I’d never lived outside of my parents’ home. The draw of working in a city far away from my responsibilities seemed too good to pass up. My parents reminded me all the time that Caleb was their responsibility, but what happened when they were too old to take care of him? What happened when they died? Caleb would be my responsibility and there was no getting around that. I didn’t mind, but at the same time I wanted to have this experience to remember when I moved back.
I checked my phone and stood, throwing my suit jacket over my arm. I grabbed my briefcase and made my way to the streetcar. I’d picked my neighborhood based on the quaint homes, shops, its proximity to Audubon Park, the zoo, and the St. Charles streetcar, which I could take each morning to my office in the business district. I loved the quiet ride down the tree-lined streets where I could admire the galleries in the Art District and the mansions of the Garden District until we reached Lafayette Square next to my office tower.
After about an hour at work, I checked my phone to see that Gabe had suggested meeting me in Lafayette Square so we could take the streetcar over to the French Quarter for beignets. I’d expected he would take me to a greasy spoon that only locals knew about not the biggest tourist spot in the city. Excited I was finally going to be visiting the French Quarter, I typed out a quick okay. I realized I was supposed to be meeting with him in the next few minutes so I closed down my computer, told my secretary I was meeting with a business manager for the outreach program, and took the elevator down.
With each floor the elevator cleared, my heart beat harder. Was I going to see the Gabe I saw on the street the other night when he was worried about my safety and called me an Uber, or the asshole Gabe who wanted nothing to d
o with me? I hoped for the former. I walked quickly over to the square, thankful I’d left my suit jacket in my office. It was way too hot for suits. Lafayette Square was only one city block in size but was a nice green spot. I spotted Gabe right away on the outskirts of the park leaning against a stone wall. My feet faltered when I realized his gaze slowly perused me from my nude peep-toed shoes, up my bare legs, to my skirt, my chest, and finally my face.
“Good morning,” I said, breathlessly, like I’d run to see him, which I hadn’t.
“Morning, princess.”I didn’t like it the first time he’d called me that in frustration, but I liked how it rolled off his tongue this morning—like a caress.
“Did you sleep well?” His voice was low and rumbly like he’d recently rolled out of bed.
A vision of him waking up in bed came to me, his hair rumpled, those abs on display. Did he sleep naked? My face heated at the thought. “I did. Thank you. Did you?”
“Yeah, what sleep I got.” He started walking toward the streetcar stop and I fell into step next to him.
“Your hours are rough.”
“I’m used to it. Have you seen much of the city?”
I laughed. “No. I got settled into my apartment and started working. I’m embarrassed to say I’ve lived here a few weeks but haven’t ventured out much.” When the streetcar stopped in front of us, I stepped on, taking a seat in the back.
“Where are you from?” He held onto a handle on the roof while I sat, his legs straddling my feet, keeping me encased by him and his scent—woodsy, a hint of liquor, and all man.
“Annapolis, Maryland. New Orleans reminds me of it a little. Not so much the culture and music, but the architecture and the history.”
As the streetcar stopped and started up again, he shifted closer to me, making it difficult to breathe. I had to look up at him to maintain eye contact as we spoke, which meant my face was level with his belt buckle. I licked my suddenly dry lips. It wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t so attractive and my mind hadn’t drifted down to the gutter.
“Why did you move here?”
I hesitated. I wouldn’t tell anyone about Caleb. This would be the first time in my life I wasn’t defined by my brother. “There was a job opening and I’d always wanted to work in the U.S. Attorney’s office. It’s fairly impossible to get a job there unless you know someone or have a connection, which I did.”
He raised his brows and I realized I’d just confirmed I was privileged.
“I wanted to make a difference. I was impressed by how involved the office, and particularly my boss, is with the community. You know, all of that sappy stuff you scorn.” I softened my tone with a teasing smile.
“You’d be surprised what I think. I don’t hate all of that stuff. It’s good.”
“But?”
“But nothing. What your office does is commendable.”
That was interesting. If that’s how he felt, then why was he so against it when we met? Or was it that he was against me? “I get the feeling there’s more you’re not telling me.”
He watched out the window before his eyes dropped back to mine. “I probably made a few unfair assumptions about you when we met.”
I was speechless for a few seconds. Like his apology, this was unexpected. “And you think differently now?”
He shook his head and laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’d like to get to know you though, especially if you’re going to be working with Isaac and me.”
I wanted to ask why he’d been so angry when he found out I worked for the U. S. Attorney’s office. I wanted to know what made him soften toward me, but I didn’t want to break whatever this was.
He’d called me a princess and said my life was easy. I didn’t doubt that my life was a cakewalk compared to his, but we all struggled with something. I wanted to know what he struggled with. Why did he have a chip on his shoulder?
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, nudging my foot with his.
I looked up at him. “Oh, nothing. Just thinking about my family. Wishing they could visit and see the city with me.”
“They can’t?” There was genuine curiosity in his tone.
“No. It’s not possible for them to come here.” I didn’t add more. I didn’t want be judged for leaving my brother. It would do nothing for his opinion of me.
He studied me for a minute but let it go. “That’s too bad.”
Then the French Quarter came into sight and I took the excuse to break eye contact and watch out the window.
“I’m glad I’m the first person to show you the city.”
I stood, smiling at him. “Me too.” I realized the move brought me flush with Gabe, and my nipples hardened at the feel of his chest through my lace bra and silky shirt. When the car came to a stop, I jolted into him, and he wrapped an arm around my waist pulling me tighter to his muscled body. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think about anything other than his strong arm around me and his breath ruffling the hair on top of my head.
“Sorry.” I smiled softly at him, but his eyes were dark and intense. As soon as people began exiting the car, he stepped back.
“No problem.” Our eyes met and I knew he was feeling the same thing I did—an acute awareness of each other.
I followed him off the streetcar, trying to settle my heart rate and breathing.
“This is the French Market.”
I saw the green and white striped canopy on the store in front of us which read Café du Monde. “Are we going to Café du Monde first?” I’d been dying to try out the beignet shop since I’d gotten here. I’d tried them elsewhere, but these were supposed to be the best.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Come on,” he said with an eager grin.
I liked this side of Gabe—the one who wanted to show me his hometown. The man without the chip.
“Is it always this busy?” I gestured to the long line.
“Maybe not at night. It’s open twenty-four hours.”
“Wow.”
“Most things in New Orleans are. We should be called the city that never sleeps, not New York.”
I nodded in agreement. When we reached the front of the line he asked for several orders of beignets and two coffees. When I raised my brow in surprise, he said, “They only come in orders of three and they’re only this big.” He showed me the square size with his hands.
He handed me my coffee and grabbed the bag of beignets and his coffee. “Want to sit outside?”
It was a beautiful day and I wanted to see the city, watch the people walk by, and get a feel for it. A friend from back home mentioned how amazing it was to be in a city with so many different cultures. “Definitely.”
We sat at one of the tables outside the store and I watched people go by as I bit into the warm doughy goodness.
He started to speak then hesitated.
“What is it?”
“What do you think of the beignets—this place?” His voice was unsure like he worried it wouldn’t meet my expectations.
“That this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” I smiled and brushed away the powder that had fallen from the beignet onto my navy skirt.
He cocked one sexy brow at me, and I couldn’t help laughing. Something about his relaxed attitude this morning, the amazing coffee, the sugary goodness of the beignets, and the joy of finally seeing the French Quarter lowered my walls.
If Gabe was like this all of the time, he could easily be someone I’d be interested in. A fun fling while I lived here would be perfect. No responsibilities, no guilt. I could enjoy him like I did the city.
Stuffed, I laid a hand on my bloated stomach, and leaned back in my chair. “People watching here is something else.” There were street performers, musicians, people of all different ethnicities and cultures.
“Are you ready to see more?” There was an excitement in his eyes.
Glancing at my phone, I had another hour or so before I’d need to
head back to work.
At my nod, he gathered our bags and napkins throwing them into the nearest garbage can.
“The most impressive thing you’ll see in New Orleans is St. Louis Cathedral.” He gestured across Jackson Square where the Cathedral stood tall in the middle of the park with a fountain in front of it. “Most New Orleans’ postcards and pictures feature it.”
But my gaze was on him. “You love the city?”
“I do. I grew up here.”
So whatever bothered him wasn’t the city itself. What was it? A person, a bad experience? The nicer he was to me, the more I wanted to know.
“But to really see New Orleans, you have to venture away from the main tourist areas.” He led me down a side street away from Bourbon to a quieter street filled with small shops.
I touched his elbow to stop him in front of a Voodoo shop. “Is this for real?”
“It is. Want to check it out?” His tone was playful and fun.
“Absolutely.” Gabe held the door open and gestured for me to proceed him into the dark shop filled with Voodoo dolls, talismans, spell kits, and in-house palm readings. I’d definitely be skipping that. I didn’t want to hear about how I’d made a selfish choice shirking my family responsibilities to come here. I already knew that. Not that I believed it was real anyway.
As we perused the shop, a worker stopped into our aisle. “Did you need any help?”
Gabe seemed more relaxed today and I couldn’t resist teasing him. “Tell me something—if I buy a Voodoo doll for my boss who’s grumpy and difficult to deal with, can I put pins in it to get back at him?” I bumped shoulders with Gabe to let him know I was talking about him and not my boss at the U.S. Attorney’s office.
