by Lynn Shurr
The moment came for the lift over his shoulder, sore if he admitted it from doing the same move with so many others that evening, but Xochi soared as she were made of black swan feathers and landed lightly facing the audience. He pressed his lips against her nape where the waves of her dark hair parted and swore he felt an extra surge of heat from her body. Those that remained watching applauded wildly. From the sidelines, the man with the thin mustache glared at them with his dead black eyes.
Xo turned in Junior’s arms. “Time to go home.”
She insisted on remaining in the barroom while waiting for her favored driver despite the noise and dimness rather than out in the balmy May night where knots of men and women stood smoking and chatting on the broken sidewalk. When the taxi pulled up in front of Paco’s, Xo bolted for its door and flung herself into the backseat. Junior joined her and carefully placed one arm around her shoulders, held her tight. She trembled, and he swore he could feel the frantic beat of her heart fast as a frightened dove against his chest.
“Did I do something wrong? Was the lift too much for you? Or was it the kiss?”
“No, no, nothing you did, Junior. The lift, the kiss is part of the dance. That man who wanted to be my partner, he is one of the dark men I’ve been seeing lately everywhere I go. Soulless men with auras so black they seem to make a hole in the universe. New Orleans is a big city, often a sinful city, and I’ve seen them before, but never so many or so close to me.”
“I’ll protect you, Xo. You know I’d give my life for you.”
“Don’t say that! No one should have to make that choice.”
The ride back to their shared apartment wasn’t long, especially if the driver knew the ways around the tourist traffic, thick even at this time of the evening. Junior stood guard, watchful, as Xochi worked the locks with shaking hands. He saw no one other than the usual drunks and herds of boisterous college kids pass by on their way to get their cars out of paid lots.
Xo flicked on the lily-shaped staircase lights and turned the deadbolts to secure the door. No longer lighthearted or light-footed, they trudged up the steps to their living room/ kitchen/ office and second bathroom area. Junior headed straight for the stove. “Want me to make you some eggs and toast to settle you down?”
“You know, that might be good.”
She took a seat at the table and let Junior work. He never prepared anything ordinary for her, not even eggs. Cream went into the concoction, not milk. He grated cheese over the marbled mixture, no processed product for him—or her. A pinch of herbs and into the warm, buttered pan. Thin slices of bread from a French loaf disappeared into the toaster. The fancy coffeemaker could make herbal tea, as it turned out. Junior set all this before her and watched Xo eat dainty as a sparrow pecking at crumbs.
“None for you?” she asked.
“No. I think I polished off most of those loaded nachos and half the tacos between dances. Tom went back to get more. He and Alix sure can eat.”
“They’re athletes and work it off like you. Me, I have to watch it. I don’t want to know how much sugar is in two strawberry daiquiris or one of those nachos. I try to stay on the dance floor as much as I can. This is so good, protein mostly.”
“Sure. Drink the tea. It will help you sleep.”
“Having you here really does make me feel more secure.” She rose to take the dishes to the sink. “I’ll clean up since you did all the work.” Xochi turned on the water to start the task, added detergent, put the pan and dishes in to soak.
Junior came up behind her. Couldn’t she feel the heat they generated together? He parted her hair and kissed her nape again. When she turned, brown arms upheld and lacy with soap bubbles to ward him off, he took the kiss he really wanted. His lips were broad and hers soft and plush, yet they fit together so well. He outlined hers with the tip of his tongue, asking for entrance, not demanding it, surprised when she granted his wish. A soft, wet tangle of tongues and more pressure on the lips ensued as they imitated the act of love. When both needed air, Xochi pulled away leaving behind the imprint of her wet fingers on both shoulders of his purple shirt.
“That was no amateur kiss, Junior. You’ve had some practice.”
“I thought you’d want a man with experience because you had some years on me to learn.” Damn, he’d brought up the age issue without meaning to at all. He sensed her withdrawal. “I practiced some other things, too, and got pretty good at it.” Might as well confess and let it all out. He studied his big knuckles.
“I guess you had to suffer through that like you do at a mini-camp.”
“Nope, sex is pretty wonderful, right? But, I think it would be even better with someone you love.”
“Sure, I guess.”
“If you have to guess, I’d say you haven’t done it with the right man. He’s standing right here.” Junior held his arms out and offered to enfold her again.
Xochi turned and scrubbed eggs from the dish and pan. “We shouldn’t kiss again no matter how great you are at it. I changed your diapers when you were a baby.”
“Did not! You always used to say that when you didn’t want me tagging along somewhere. I finally asked my mama if that was true. She said no, what kind of nursemaid or mother would she be if she let a five-year-old take care of me, all of that in indignant Spanish. You could barely lift me. So there!”
And she laughed. “You aren’t the boss of me, Junior. Sounds like we’re having a childhood argument.”
“I don’t want to be your boss. You know I have something better in mind.” He kissed her nape again and let his tongue run down her spine to the top of her gown.
She shivered and faced him. “There are things you don’t know about me, things I haven’t told anyone, not Mama Nell, not Stacy.”
“If you mean that your birth mother had you at fourteen and was probably a child prostitute, it makes no difference to me. Your father might have been Daddy Joe’s cousin, but he was scum in so many ways. That doesn’t matter. The whole family figured that out years ago. The auras—who cares? Maybe they are a medical problem like Connor Bullock says, but if you believe in them and they protect you, then great. Nothing can change my love for you.”
Xochi laid two fingers on his lips to quiet him, and he wanted nothing more than to suck on the tips and kiss her palm. “I need to make a major decision in my life soon. Right now, I have no time for your love, for anyone’s love.”
“Love chooses its own time, Xo. When you feel it might surprise you.”
“That’s the most mature statement I’ve ever heard from a man.”
“See, age doesn’t really matter.”
“Maybe you will convince me of that one day, but not tonight. See you in the morning.” Xochi left the dishes to air dry and pulled the plug. Suds and water swirled down the drain and disappeared.
Chapter Eight
Xochi’s phone rang at ten a.m., way too early for a woman who’d been out past two in the morning. She fumbled it from its place on her nightstand. “Hello,” she said in a voice a little dry from last night’s daiquiris.
“Hey, it’s me, Rachelle. How’d it go after I left with restroom guy? Did you take home the I’m a serious doctor man or big, brown, and bodacious?”
“The last because he’s my temporary roommate and childhood friend—but is way too young for both of us. Nothing happened.” She intentionally tried to blot out that kiss, the memory of his tongue sliding along her lips, the slightly rough feel of the new mustache he’d grown, and did not succeed.
“Maybe his age bothers you, but I don’t consider myself too young to be a cougar. If his flavor is not to your liking, can I have a taste?”
“No! I mean what about the fellow you went home with last night.”
“We did the deed fairly decently, but after he seemed more interested in you. Why hadn’t you been to Paco’s lately? Who were the men at our table?”
“And you told him!”
“Didn’t seem like a big deal. He crept ou
t before dawn like they always do. Can’t even remember his name. Some Hispanic dude. I just keep thinking of him as restroom guy. Those giant margaritas really mess with your brain.”
“You should lay off of them. Look, I’m sorry I snapped about Junior. I guess I feel protective since I remember when he was born. Of course, you can go out with him if he asks.” Feeling as if she’d just given away something very precious, Xo pressed her pillow tight against her chest to calm her hard-thumping heart.
“The way his eyes follow you, I’ll have to do the asking, but what the hell. Say, you want to go shopping at the Riverwalk this morning? We can catch lunch there and shop some more after.”
“Sure, I haven’t done that in a while. Give me an hour. I’m still in bed and not dressed.”
“Is Junior?”
Sometimes Rachelle and her innuendos really got on her nerves. Besides salsa dancing, they had little in common. “I wouldn’t know as he uses the other bedroom.”
“Don’t get your panties in a wad. I’ll meet you at the entry in sixty.”
Glad when Rachelle disconnected, Xochi rose from her bed and headed for the shower. Clearly, Junior had made use of it already, not because of any mess he left behind, but by a damp towel neatly folded on the rack and the steamy mist of his lime aftershave in the air. Xo inhaled deeply, then prompted herself to stop that at once. Before she turned on the water, she detected his bustle in the kitchen and hoped he hadn’t prepared another big breakfast.
After bathing, she put on daytime makeup, no smoky eyes or lipstick red as her dancing shoes. Dressing in a loose lemon yellow summer dress and white sandals because summer had already cranked up the heat in New Orleans, she went downstairs to face Junior après the major kiss.
He beamed at her. “Muy bonita.”
“Gracias. I don’t have time for breakfast.” She tried to shut him down. Didn’t work.
“It’s so close to lunchtime, I only made my Bananas Foster toast and coffee. See, I put thinly sliced bananas on the buttered bread and sprinkle it with Foster mix. A minute under the broiler, and it’s ready.” He shoved a cookie sheet she didn’t know she owned holding six slices into the oven and poured her coffee with exactly the right amount of steamed milk.
Xochi found herself sitting to accept the beverage and a couple of pieces of his invention, way better than ordinary cinnamon toast. “Thanks, but I really can’t linger. I’m meeting Rachelle at the Riverwalk to do some shopping. We’re having lunch there.”
“Can I…”
Xo waved her slightly sticky fingers in his face. “No, you cannot go along. I-I babysat for you.”
A wide grin exposing that charming gap in his front teeth spread across his broad face. “No, you didn’t. If my mother was busy or needed a break, Mama Nell just folded me into the pack of Billodeauxs. With all those kids, it was no big deal she always said.”
“Okay, fine, you still can’t go along. We might want to buy sexy lingerie.”
“That would be entirely great with me, especially if you modeled it, but that’s not what I wanted to ask. Can I take you out to dinner tonight?”
Xochi sorted through her defenses. “Only if Rachelle is invited, too.”
His smile dropped, but otherwise he hid his disappointment well. “Sure, if she wants to tag along. Meet me at Coop’s Place around six. It’s on Decatur not far from the French Market.”
“I don’t think I know it.”
“One of New Orleans’ best kept secrets.”
Xochi licked her fingers clean and instantly regretted it. Junior eyes trailed them to her mouth as if he’d gladly do that service for her. “I’m running late. Gotta go!”
“Have a good time shopping. Pick up a pound of chocolate fudge for me.” He cleared the table without further comment.
She raced upstairs to get her straw handbag, but found Junior waiting at the bottom when she returned. Damn, he looked good in anything—worn jeans, a plain white V-necked T-shirt that showed a little curly chest hair, and huge athletic shoes. She’d rein him in immediately. “You can’t go with us.”
No smile this time. “I got that. Honestly, I really don’t like shopping with women. But, I was thinking you might want an escort to the Riverwalk because of those dark men you’re seeing around.”
Remembering the man with the slim mustache, Xochi sucked in a breath. “Probably just my imagination. You shouldn’t take my auras seriously. Connor doesn’t.”
“I do. Let me walk with you. As soon as you meet Rachelle, I’m gone.”
Xochi considered his offer, weighing encouragement of Junior with his major crush against her genuine fear of being followed. “Okay, I appreciate the offer. Let’s go.”
“I should put on something better than this.” Junior gestured to the rather thin, clingy T-shirt that made love to his pecs and six-pack.
“Don’t bother.”
“Just give me a minute.” He took the steps two at a time and returned in seconds with a yellow tropical shirt patterned with large banana leaves and left unbuttoned. Lots of men would have looked ridiculous in it, especially her brother Tom, but not Junior. He came across as one big kahuna.
“This okay? Adam Malala gave it to me. The Sinners hired him to work with me and the rest of the secondary. It’s an honor to learn from him.”
Modest, too. Xochi simply nodded. “That will be fine. I won’t lose you in the crowd.” As if you could lose anyone that big and fine in a crowd.
They started down Canal Street, already working up a sweat by the time they reached the wide plaza in front of the newly proclaimed Outlet Collection at Riverwalk. Fanning her gloomy face with her hand, Rachelle waited in a spot of shade.
“You’re half an hour late. I swear you could fry chicken on these slates. I’ll bet it goes past ninety today.” She paused in her tirade. Her angular face brightened. “Say, you shopping with us, Junior? I love having a man along to carry my bags. I’ll bet you could carry a lot of luggage.” Rachelle’s eyes travelled from his feet to his face. “Nice shirt.”
“Ah, thanks. I don’t think Xo wants me along.”
“Why not? The more the merrier.”
“He probably has other plans. Don’t you, Junior?”
Junior heaved his heavy shoulders. “Just what I usually do, go to the training center and work out.”
Rachelle placed her sweaty palm on his rock-hard bicep. “I think missing one day won’t turn you to mush. Let’s get into the air conditioning.” She slid her fingers down his arm and tugged his big hand. Junior shot Xochi a “what can I do?” glance and followed the woman into the wonderfully cool interior of the mall.
Fuming at both of them, Xochi brought up the rear. “Where do you want to start?”
“Oh, oh, the free wine tasting place,” Rachelle suggested with enthusiasm.
“The sexy lingerie shop,” Junior piped up with a grin.
“Too early for both. Let’s just stroll and window shop for a while.” Xo took the lead.
They made a short foray into the expensive purse store. Taken with a display in bright soft leather, lime greens, orange, and hot pinks, Xochi checked a few price tags. “They call this a discount? I’d hate to see their normal prices. You could feed a village for a day with this much money.”
Junior cupped a hand to his ear. “Do I hear Mama Nell speaking? She never got used to being rich.”
“Probably, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t right.”
“If Daddy Joe were here, he’d buy it for you. Let me get one and for you, too, Rachelle.”
“Absolutely not!”
“Hey, speak for yourself, kiddo. I clerk part-time in a phony voodoo shop by day and help with the occasional graveyard tour by night. Got one this evening in fact. The tips and the employee discount don’t cover designer handbags. Let the man be generous. I like this one.” Rachelle picked up a lime green clutch. “Believe it or not, I got a dress this will match.”
Junior studied her questionable attire, skinn
y jeans that showed off a bony rear and a tight scarlet top emphasizing a heavily padded bra. “I believe you. Xo?” Junior waited with patience ruined only by the gotcha smile on his face. He eyed the straw purse she’d brought along—about the size of a beach bag. “I see you like big ones.”
“They do come in handy,” she admitted.
“We’ll take this one.” He selected a hot pink tote for her.
Xo cocked her head. “I shouldn’t let you do this, but it would enliven my Anchi Services outfits quite a bit.”
“Buy it, buy it!” Rachelle chanted loud enough to draw the attention of a roving clerk as stylish as the merchandise.
“You’ll take these?” she questioned. Junior nodded. “I’ll check you out.”
As if she weren’t already doing that, Xo thought. He presented a platinum credit card, and the clerk’s blue-eyed interest increased as she studied his name. “You played for LSU, right? Got drafted by the Sinners. I’m a big fan of both teams. I might work in a swanky shop, but I can’t afford the home game tickets.”
Junior, innocent Junior, walked right into her trap. “I’ll see you get some passes when the season starts. I won’t forget.”
They left the store with a large shopping bag stuffed with purses and tissue paper as well as the business card of the blonde with the tight chignon, her home number written on the back. Junior stowed it in a pocket. He’d keep his word, darn it. A bell clanged loudly somewhere in the concourse. Xochi swore Junior’s ears pricked.
“The Fudgery show is about to start. Let’s go!” Junior broke through the mass of shoppers as if he needed to intercept a wide receiver, but had the consideration to stand in back of women and children whose view he might block. He placed Xochi and Rachelle in front of him as a hefty black woman tipped the contents of a brass kettle onto a marble slab and began working the fudge with a wide paddle. She sang, she swung, she shook her booty, and blended that chocolate fudge with handfuls of pecans until it shaped up into a nice loaf. Buyers began to line up, Junior among them. “Ladies, what’s your pleasure?” he asked.
