Bayou Brides

by Linda Joyce

  Chapter 5

  “Does your brother have a heart?” Nola rose from the side of the pool and paced. She swallowed against momentary panic. A calm head always prevailed in a crisis, a fact she had learned from her sister in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Fleur de Lis flourished because her sister had taken the helm. Drawing a deep breath, Nola blew it out, letting peace wash through her.

  “I promise he does.”

  “You swear on Julia Child’s grave?” Nola narrowed her eyes at Kayla after invoking her friend’s cooking hero. “You know my band kids are counting on me. Maybe I could make him see reason. What if I talk with him? It’s not like he’s the king.”

  Kayla sipped coffee. “Oh, but he now is the King of Cuisine at Arceneau’s. Trust me. Let me work this out with him. I have an idea we can talk about over lunch.”

  “Why didn’t you say so! Get your skinny derrière in drive. I haven’t had anything but coffee today.”

  Looking at the morning sun lifting in the sky, then at Nola, Kayla shook her head. “It’s too early. Mae’s isn’t open yet.”

  “I should’ve guessed we’d head to Tremé. Her fried chicken is your crack.”

  “That’s where we’re going for lunch because you insist I do yoga. Besides, I’ve something to show you. My plan is not a one-hit wonder, but something I think might keep you on the charts.”

  Nola squeed. “I love it when you use music biz analogies. But seriously, if you’ve got a plan, I’m willing to listen. I’ll do anything to help my kids. The band will march for Mardi Gras next year. ‘Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.’ ”

  “I do know more than cooking, drinking, and men. I know Ralph Waldo Emerson when I hear him.”

  “Well, Miss Smarty Chef, who said, ‘Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before’? Tell me that.”

  “Mae West. I love old movies. Interesting that you should quote a diva. Nola Belle is a combo of bohemian and sassy, very sensual on stage, but in real life, you’re—”

  “A typical Taurus. Daddy says I’m a butterfly. Organized Earth Mother is what Momma calls me. I’ll never fit into her mold. She’s accepted that. I’m not like Biloxi and Linc with their southern halos. They’re the target market for South by Southern Accents magazine.”

  Nola headed to the stairs leading up to a landing and her apartment. What kind of woman attracted Rex? The look in his eyes when their gazes locked stole her breath away. She had a definite interest, and if they played spin the bottle, she’d discover just how deep his interest in her went. But she wasn’t about to ply Kayla with questions about him—too creepy. She hated it when women tried that with her about her brother. Somehow she had to gain insights about Rex to chip away at his royal decree. Did they have any friends in common in New Orleans who might have influence with him?

  “You understand family and expectations. He was always Papa’s favorite. Firstborn. And a son.” Kayla dropped the empty coffee cups in the trash at the foot of the stairs. “I have to navigate this situation expertly. I need him to stay, but I don’t want him helicoptering around me.”

  Kayla’s calm confidence stalled her fears. Maybe her income wouldn’t dry up. The small trust fund Great-Grandmother left her provided enough money each month for her to pay rent. Her teaching job paid the rest of the bills. The singing gigs at Arceneau’s and Harbor House supported her band kids, outfitting them with instruments. But uniforms were still needed. Her summer tour could cover that expense.

  There’s got to be a way to convince Rex to continue the music. Think!

  A new plan began to take shape in Nola’s mind. One that involved the steely-blue-gray-eyed Rex. If she mapped it out with precision, he would be saying “yes” before he could even think “no.” If ever she needed to amp up her powers of persuasion, now was the time.

  “I see the gears turning in your head.”

  “Learning something from me, aren’t you?” Nola climbed the stairs. “Clearly you came with a plan for the day. What’s on the agenda?”

  “Go change. We’re taking the bicycles. Near the river. Marigny Street.”

  Behind her, Kayla raced up the steps. When Nola stopped, Kayla bumped her from behind.

  “Good morning, Marquis.” Nola batted her lashes at the trumpet player. “Nice horn practice. Have a good day.” She enjoyed the playfulness between them. But though he played the blues, her heart never beat 12/8 time over him.

  Marquis tipped his hat at her. As she turned, she caught his flirty wink at Kayla. “Mornin’.”

  Her friend stared as he descended. As he started to turn back, Nola quickly entered her apartment, pulling Kayla inside to keep her from openly gawking at the man.

  “Hire him for your tour.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll come on the road as the band’s chef. I swear, that man could be the twin of Brown Sugar on that crime program on TV.”

  “Starstruck, darlin’?”

  “Well, he makes my panties wet, you know what I mean. He’s as hot as asphalt in the middle of summer in Louisiana,” Kayla drawled.

  “And he plays a mean horn, too.” Walking toward her bedroom, Nola thought of a plan to bring the chef and musician together. She pulled her caftan over her head to change, then hung it in the closet.

  “Shit, Nola, I know we’re really close, but girlfriend, you’re way too…”

  “What?” Nola reached for the clothes neatly laid out on her bed.

  “I’m just sayin’…”

  “What!” She pulled on walking shorts over lace panties, then slipped on a bra from her favorite store in the French Quarter. Once, she took a burlesque dance lesson there during a lingerie party. The store had trashy in its name, yet their merchandise was anything but. They carried elegant imported lace, silk, and satin garments. What woman didn’t want that kind of luxury next to her skin? It was her one weakness in life. Other women were shoe whores, like her sister, or bracelet mongers like her cousin Evie. She’d take sexy lingerie any day.

  “The whole nudity thing…bothers me. I’m not comfortable walking around naked. Like you do.”

  Nola walked back into the living room of her tiny apartment fully dressed. “You don’t like being naked, or you don’t want to see me naked?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wasn’t naked. I had on a caftan.”

  “But—underneath. And then you took it off.”

  “Are you really that self-conscious? Or is your potty mouth a cover-up for your prudishness?” Nola pulled on her socks and reached for her sneakers.

  “Apparently so.”

  “Lordy, when you grow up with so many women around—”

  “But that’s the point. I didn’t. Momma got sick when I started school. She died when I barely finished second grade. Rex was about twelve. Papa worked all the time. Most of what I learned about being a girl, I learned from magazines or Rex—my aunts and cousins never had much to do with me. I grew tall and gangly quick. Imagine shopping for your first bra and your brother waiting by the escalator at a department store praying he won’t be seen by anyone he knows.”

  Inwardly, she chuckled at the image of a young Rex awkwardly hanging out. “That’s what girlfriends are for.” She stood straight, bent over, and placed her palms flat on the floor, shifting her weight from side to side to stretch.

  Kayla shrugged. “I didn’t really have any. I spent most of my after school and weekend time at the restaurant. Ask me about grills, ovens, and fryers. Those I can tell you about. Rex was lucky. He took music lessons. Guitar, trumpet, and piano.”

  Nola straightened suddenly. “He what?” Her heartbeat quickened.

  “Took. Music. Lessons. How do you sing when you don’t hear well? He’s musically talented. I’m not. I only took piano because he forced me.”

  “He plays?” Her pulse spiked. Warnings pinged in her brain.

  “He says he jams at a bistro next to one of his restaurants in Ne
w York. Guitar or trumpet. He gave up piano because it wasn’t portable. But I’ve only been to New York once to visit him, so I can’t vouch for what he says, just about his years of lessons.”

  “You and your brother are full of surprises.”

  “You haven’t known me all that long. He and I are as dull as a machete after hacking sugar cane.”

  Nola grabbed her backpack.

  He’s a music man.

  She had no choice but to avoid Rex now. Whenever the blues called, her infatuated heart listened. Not this time. She would shut it down. A guillotine couldn’t drop faster. No interaction with Rex equaled no further attraction. If he intended to fire her, he would have to do it over the phone. She would avoid him until her performance on Saturday night. Arceneau’s had been a great gig—paid better in tips than any place she’d worked, but she would pull on her big girl panties and soldier onward. A bit of resourcefulness and creativity had landed her that gig. Another opportunity would materialize if she meditated about it. Otherwise, she’d have to walk on her hands and knees over glass to beg her sister to host a fundraiser for her kids. A band wasn’t complete without uniforms. Family involvement was only a very last resort—she preferred independence. To do it all on her own. But for her kids…she might have to suck it up.

  “So I guess I should get used to the idea of being fired.” But that didn’t stop her burning curiosity about him from blazing brighter.

  “Don’t go singin’ the blues just yet, sister. Just wait until you hear my plan.” Kayla stepped out of the apartment onto the landing.

  “I’ll go quietly.” But her unyielding heart took on angel wings and fluttered in her chest.

  Double dang him!

  Nola turned and locked the door to her apartment before bounding down the stairs. Kayla waited at the bottom. Shutting out all thoughts of Rex, Nola turned to her friend. “Honestly, you’re not dull, you’re busy. But all work and no play…what if I get you a date with Marquis?”

  “I don’t know…work comes first.”

  “I’m not saying you should marry the guy”—an image flashing in her mind of Rex’s lips close to hers, so close they barely touched in a light kiss, stunned her—“I’m talking a date. Let me find out which club he’s playing and we’ll go—at midnight after the restaurant is closed. You can check him out and decide.”

  “I’m not really good at dating. Starting a relationship…I just lost the greatest man in my life…loss of my father…but I can dream about the future. Let’s go see this place I want to show you. Follow me.”

  Nola stayed close behind as Kayla took off on the bicycle. “This is liberating.” Nola lifted her arms and rode without her hands on the handlebars as she used to do on the long driveway at Fleur de Lis. “Krewes need to have a bicycle club in their Mardi Gras parades.”

  The ride took them from Burgundy Street toward Marigny Street and the river. Cries from seagulls and blasts from a calliope on a riverboat docked at the end of Canal Street filled the air. Not far away the rumbles of the streetcar added to the mix. All purely New Orleans.

  “This is it.” Kayla pulled up in front of an old brick building restored and segmented into condo units per the sign advertising them for sale. Nola slid her bike onto the rack and locked it beside Kayla’s.

  “I heard about this place.” Nola pointed to the vacant lot across the street. “Look, the ugly metal building is gone.” The once industrial area had an urban vibe with a touch of New Orleans history. Still, her heart ached over washed away traces of old.

  “Wait until you see the view from the rooftop deck.”

  The concierge at the desk greeted them. “Miss Kayla, I’ve been waiting for you. Here are the keys to the unit. Take your time. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

  “This way.” Kayla crossed the lobby to the elevators. Her sneakers squeaked against the polished concrete floor.

  “You’ve been here several times?” Nola whispered. The place was nearly tomb-like. Cold. Rigid. The tall ceilings and windows with only modern furniture reminded her of a mausoleum. But she could imagine fantastic acoustics if she belted out a song.

  “I’ve got a plan. I’ll tell you, but first, let’s look at the unit I want.”

  Kayla opened the door to the condo on the fourth floor, and Nola stepped inside. “Nice. They kept the integrity of the old brick. It has a charm that transports you back decades ago.”

  Kayla pointed to an opening on the left. “This is the first bedroom. Is it big enough? It doesn’t have an attached bath, but the one next to it is large, modern, and private.”

  Nola scoped out the space. “A queen bed will fit in here nicely. There’s a whole wall of closet space. A girl’s dream shoe closet.” Even at Fleur de Lis, there wasn’t a room with a closet as large as that one. Her sister would faint.

  “This bathroom is three piece. A shower, but no tub. There’s a tub in the attached bath in the bedroom I want.”

  “You’re going to actually move out of your family home?” Nola asked, astonished Kayla could consider the idea. “It’s a lovely mansion.” A coveted address on a quiet street tucked away behind a black cast iron fence with fleur de lis finials. Plus, a pool.

  “Your parents sold theirs.”

  “It wasn’t the showcase you live in. But we have Fleur de Lis. It’s more like it owns us than the family owning it. It takes so much work and attention to keep the house and the grounds in top shape. The Garden District house was rarely used.”

  Continuing down the hall, Nola sensed Kayla’s excitement as she followed her when she turned left.

  “Ta-da!” Kayla waved her arms in an open area a few feet from a bank of pristine white cabinets that made up the kitchen. “I’ll need to add an island here with a small fridge. I’ll move that fridge out. Put in a big commercial one over there.”

  “I’ll ask Marquis to be my date when you host your first dinner party. Then he’s sure to ask you out. Hey, that’s a view of the river!”

  “I’ll put a big TV with a long couch over there. An antique trestle table with seating for eight. Benches on either side. Chairs on the ends. I will bring furniture from home. Plus, I have china passed down from my great-great-grandmother.”

  “I can see your vision. Maybe add some interesting industrial lighting over the table—maybe some gaslight fixtures converted for electric. This is an awesome place.” Nola turned slowly in a circle to take in the details of the large open-concept area. She stopped her twirl, took in a breath, and sang, “The city is my oyster…no place else could cloisterrrrr…meeeee.” The acoustics weren’t perfect, but better than some of the small clubs she’d been booked in.

  Kayla lowered herself to the floor in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Do you think you could live here, too?”

  “Live here?”

  “Yeah. Roommates.”

  Nola quirked her mouth to one side. “Why?” The happy plus of Fleur de Lis—there was always family in residence there. The negative of Fleur de Lis—there was always family in residence there. After growing up with a large extended family, she loved them to pieces, but craved her own space, which was why she rented a tiny apartment—plus it was all she would afford. All extra money went to her band kids.

  “You need to move. The owner of your building is selling, right?”

  “Turning it into condo units, which I can’t afford. I’m waiting to see if a new owner might rent to me.”

  “I want out from the weight of my father’s house, to strike out on my own—like you. I told Rex I want to sell the house and buy this.”

  “He agreed?”

  “Not exactly. But I offered for him to buy me out. Then you could live here.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a perfect solution. I buy this place. You pay only nominal money, nearly rent-free—because I know of your independent streak. With the extra money from my portion of the sale of the house, I can be a benefactor to your kids’ community band.”

  �
�You’re joking. You just want me to go bra shopping with you.”

  “I’m quite capable of buying bras…but you could help me with lingerie.”

  Nola laughed. “It’s not like I know what Marquis’ preferences are, but the way he looked at you—no condiments needed.”

  “Well, maybe just some whipped cream.” Kayla blushed.

  Nola grinned and nodded as images of Rex’s wink flashed in her mind. What would grab his attention? A flirty move or an enticement of something more?

  “Hello? Nola, phone home. Where did I lose you?” Kayla waved her hand.

  “Oh. Sorry. My thoughts drifted. Somewhere…” Was there a voodoo potion to keep Rex out of her head? “You want to be a benefactor? You don’t like pint-sized people under the age of eighteen.”

  “But I want to help. I don’t have to do anything. Just give money and show up at events. It will be good for my exposure, too. And living here is a win-win for both of us.”

  How did she delicately decline Kayla’s offer? It wasn’t just the condo or the roommate part, but Kayla’s sibling that came as part of the package. Rex would turn her world upside down. She could fall in love, and he would leave. Return to New York. A place she could never live.

  The risk was too great. Rex Arceneau had to be out of bounds.

  “Say, yes.” Kayla pouted.

  “You can try to convince me while we’re at Willie Mae’s.” Food would distract Kayla. “Then I want to go to Arceneau’s and rehearse. I’ll announce the end of my run at this weekend’s performance. Rex isn’t kicking me out of the club until after this Saturday night, I hope.”

  “Yeah, well…you water that little seed, and we’ll see what grows. Who knows the mind of my brother? ‘Hope springs eternal,’ as they say. But I’ll pull every string I’ve got.”

  Would helping talented kids matter to Rex? Kids who loved music. Kids in need of a safe place and a guiding hand. Could Rex understand? If so, could she find the chink in his armor…and still protect her heart?