Bayou Brides

by Linda Joyce

  Tidying the office, he pulled the folder with his birth certificate from the drawer. He planned to put it in the safe at home. There were other loose ends to finalize, and he jotted down a menu for the Dutreys’ anniversary party. Made a few notes in the margins—tips for Kayla, in case she needed them. She’d never catered an event the size of this one, but he had faith she’d manage it just fine. Biloxi Trahan wanted Arceneau’s for the party. The restaurant would deliver as promised—only he wouldn’t be involved, but he still needed to offer her a referral of a cook for Fleur de Lis Café.

  Taking another small notepad from the desk drawer, he drew lines that merged into a trumpet. Who could he call to replace him in a trumpet battle with Marquis? Best person to ask would be the trumpet man himself. He put a star by Marquis’ name. Pulling out his phone, he texted him:

  —I need a ride to the airport tomorrow. 8 a.m. Will you? Also, fundraiser for Nola. Dueling trumpets. You and who?—

  Below the drawing, he began a list of musicians he’d grown up with, and if called, they wouldn’t be kept away from any fundraising event to help kids. Especially if Arceneau’s catered the food. He’d donate the funds for the spread, but he’d ask Kayla not to mention it to Nola, just make the offer from the business.

  Kayla. She had to talk to him. Had to deal with him. He had every right—as her brother, Papa’s heir, and business partner—to come to some consensus with her about the future of the restaurant. In a week or two, she’d come around. He could wait her out.

  But what about Nola? The connection wasn’t just magnetic. He would carry her in his heart forever.

  “I have no right to expect her to stand with me.” Dejected, he shook his head.

  After reflecting on her heated words about the audition, he could understand the reason she was angry. But he didn’t have time to offer her the perfect apology. Her anger would keep them apart. For now, that was probably for the best.

  Why couldn’t they try to make it work? She had only a couple of months until the summer. Until then, she had teaching and band and performing. Once he got things running in New York, he could visit her in New Orleans during the week… Could he persuade her to move into the house? His heart lifted at the thought of opening the door to the Garden District home and finding her there, waiting for him.

  If she agreed to move in, it would help him out as much as her. She could give up her apartment and save that money, or put it toward the band. Kayla wouldn’t be alone. The idea had merit. Maybe he could make her see the benefits…maybe. He clung to that sliver of hope.

  They could work a schedule to see each other while she toured during the summer months. After all, a few of the great festivals where she was performing weren’t far from New York City. The community band…how could he help her with that? Donate uniforms? Find her a new space to hold band practice? What would she allow him to do? Her independent streak required she be in control.

  What about next year, once Mardi Gras came and went? Could she cut back on her involvement with the band? Would she allow someone to take over for her? She could be the spokesperson and the fundraiser, yet give up the day-to-day work, turning it over to someone else.

  “Of course she couldn’t. It’s who she is.” Rex shook his head. The hope that had surged a moment ago now twisted into a rope of pain.

  There had to be a way. He didn’t want to live without her. But there was nothing keeping him here now. Other than the magnetic pull of his heart to hers and the surging connection between them. She felt it. How could she ignore the specialness of what they shared?

  But all of his business pursuits were up north. His daydream of a restaurant and club where they worked together had been a pipe dream to nowhere. Something pleasant to dream about, but waking reality cast a harsh spotlight on the truth of his existence. They couldn’t hope to build a lasting bridge between New York and New Orleans with love and expect it to withstand the rigors of daily life.

  ****

  “Thanks, Marquis.” Nola climbed into the front seat of the limo. “I appreciate the ride to work.” After he dropped Kayla at the restaurant, he’d driven her home for a short nap and to change. Now he was her chariot driver taking her to work.

  “It’s on my way. But tonight, you take care of my girl.”

  “Kayla isn’t a fragile flower. She’ll be fine.”

  He scowled.

  “Fine. I promise to watch out for her.”

  The short drive lasted only moments. The digital clock on the dash flipped to nine p.m. She blew Marquis a kiss as he pulled away from the curb, then she entered the restaurant through the front door, as was her usual way. Waving to customers, she pointed upstairs, a little reminder of where they could find her after they finished their dinner.

  Lifting the skirt of the simple ankle-length navy dress, she climbed the stairs. Her black patent leather, peep-toe shoes showed off her bright red toenails. Reaching the second floor, she stood tall, adjusted the dress and the three-strand pearl necklace dangling around her neck. She nodded to the employee filling up a water pitcher for her behind the small bar in the lounge. The trio playing for her tonight wasn’t due to arrive for another few minutes. She noticed their instruments were already set up. Clearly, they’d been there and gone at some point. Or maybe they were in the kitchen scrounging a meal from Kayla.

  A screech of wood-on-wood floated down from the third floor. Someone was up there. She considered checking, but in case it was Rex, she didn’t want to see him. It was highly unlikely that anyone else would be up there…unless, of course, the rather nefarious Uncle Henri had slunk back for something.

  Earlier in the afternoon, she and Kayla had talked. About the future. About disappointment. And about family—loved and hated them at the same time. Tonight would be her last performance at Arceneau’s until Kayla and Rex worked things out. Kayla had urged her to sign a new contract, but Nola resisted. Until the partnership and the roles of its members were determined, she couldn’t in good faith sign on the dotted line. And she had no intention of working for Rex. It wasn’t the kind of relationship she wanted with him.

  But what did she want?

  Nola stepped to the microphone at ten p.m. She’d selected the saddest blues songs for the set, fighting back tears during each number. Her heart grieved for Rex, and he hadn’t yet left the city.

  During the break between sets, she mingled with customers and signed autographs. A few had purchased her CD when they paid for their dinner. One man waved a waitress over and asked for more napkins.

  “She’s breaking my heart,” the older man sniffed. “I don’t know who broke hers, but they ought to be dropped off the Crescent City Connection over the Mississippi River and hit by a passing barge.”

  As midnight arrived, Nola sang the last note, and the drummer ended the session with a quick tat of a cymbal, then clamped down on the shimmering sound to mute it. Her heart had been muted the same way by Rex. Thoughts of him left her more emotionally tattered than before.

  He never made an appearance.

  She had hoped he might ask her to stay on at the restaurant. In doing so, she planned to use the opportunity to pull him and Kayla closer together to resolve the chasm of personal and professional differences they faced—including the one that impacted her. Her job.

  Silly girl. You want him to stay for you.

  But no Rex. She’d listened for further sounds upstairs in the office. Nothing more had come. Maybe she’d imagined the noises earlier.

  Heading downstairs to the now empty restaurant, Nola met Kayla as she came from the kitchen.

  “Hey girlfriend, you look like you’ve lost your last friend. But that ain’t true, cuz I’m standing right here.”

  “Drink,” Nola demanded, then picked a chair at a table in the corner of the darkened restaurant.

  “Since when do you drink?”

  “Now seems like a reasonable time to start.”

  Kayla shrugged. “What ya want?”

  “
Something that will put me to sleep forever…or at least until you and Rex work things out, he’s gone, and I can work for you. Not him.” When would her wish come true? Kayla could be so stubborn. Not mulish. Or even jackass-ish, but stuck-in-quicksand-up-to-her-nose kind of stubborn. Rex had offered an olive branch, and Kayla had swatted it away.

  “How about The Obituary?”

  “That’s a drink? Kayla, I don’t really want to die. I just want something to take the edge off so I can sleep. The whole night through.”

  “To forget Rex? Just because I’m pissed at him, doesn’t mean you have to be. I’ll make you a drink. Something more to your liking.” She headed for the bar on the other side of the dining room.

  “I have my own reasons for being angry as hell at him,” Nola called out across the expanse of room.

  “Did I just hear you cuss?” Kayla did an about face. Eyes wide. Mouth agape.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Nola pounded the table. The silverware bounced and clanked together.

  Kayla grabbed a bottle and a container from the bar and raced back to the table.

  “What am I going to do?” Nola plunked her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands.

  “Well, for starters, don’t break my table. Then drink this.” Kayla poured tequila into a water glass and pulled a wedge of lime from the container.

  Nola swallowed hard. Anger and hurt twined together in a noose for her heart. It was death by hanging…of a sort. Could alcohol sufficiently dull the pain?

  “Salt!” Kayla jumped up and ran to the kitchen.

  Nola swirled the liquid in the glass as she waited. When her friend returned a moment later, Kayla plopped into a chair, sliding the tablecloth with her. Nola grabbed the bottle and her glass to keep it from toppling over.

  “Good save.” Kayla grabbed Nola’s thumb and smeared the lime across the side of her hand. After sprinkling salt over the dampened area, she released her grip.

  “What do we drink to?” Nola asked.

  “Us.”

  “Why us? Why not men, broken hearts, and betrayal?”

  “Who the fuck wants to celebrate that? A toast is to honor someone. Something. So here’s to you, Nola Dutrey. The best friend a girl could ever have.” Kayla licked the salt from her hand, flipped the glass up, downing the alcohol, and sucked on the lime. Drumming on the table, she bounced silverware onto the floor.

  “Shit.” Nola bent to pick it up.

  “Leave it.”

  Nola sat up. “What?”

  “Leave it. The silverware and the cussing. It’s just not you.”

  “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

  “Ever kill anyone?” Kayla smiled so wide her eyes squinted shut.

  “No.” Indignant, she eyed her friend. “Have you?”

  “Not really, but I wanted to. And if I get drunk enough tonight, I just might do it.”

  “Kill who?”

  “Uncle Henri.”

  Nola poured a double shot for Kayla. If she got drunk, she’d call Marquis to pick them up and Kayla could go home with her. There she’d have no chance to do anyone harm, most of all herself.

  “Why him?”

  “He stole my life away.” Kayla’s sober expression pierced Nola’s heart. “Rex has always been everything to me. Mother. Father. Protector. Big brother. But now I learn he’s only my half brother.” Kayla knocked back the shot without a lick of salt and grabbed another lime to suck.

  “But Kayla,” Nola said softly, as she reached across to grasp her friend’s wrist. “He’s known since he was a ten-year-old little boy. And still he played those roles for you. He’s loyal and devoted to you. Can’t ask for a better brother, half or whole.”

  She was making a very good case for Kayla, but why couldn’t she conjure up the same forgiveness and acceptance for Rex? Had his interference been so heinous?

  Pain squeezed her battered heart as though trying to pry out the last drop of blood. Kayla still had her brother, whereas she had no lasting connection to the man she wanted to share her life with. Just a future of unfulfilled love.

  Grabbing the bottle, she poured herself a double. Licked her hand. Sprinkled salt over the wet spot. Licked the grains. Then knocked the tequila back.

  “Whoa, slow down, girl.”

  Going down, the alcohol warmed her insides. It hit her stomach. The burn made her scrunch her face tightly. She opened one eye.

  “Suck! Suck!” Kayla shoved a quarter of a lime at her.

  Nola bit into the fruit as ordered.

  “Suck like your life depends on it.” Kayla pounded the table.

  Grabbing the container, Nola took another lime. The sucking sound rang loudly in her ears. Her mouth hurt from drawing out the juice of the fruit.

  “Okay. Okay. Enough!” Kayla cried.

  “That was painful.” She sighed. “Kayla, what do you want? What do you want Rex to do? What do you want for him?”

  “Too damn philosophical. I’ll go to Mass in the morning and contemplate the answers to those questions—not.”

  Anger sparked in Nola. Kayla didn’t understand what a wonderful brother she had. Yes, he’d crossed the line with her, but his sister—he’d only done good by her. Why couldn’t she see she was hurting herself and him, too? “Talk to Rex.”

  “I will.”

  “When?”

  “When I’m f’ing ready.”

  “But what if he goes away and never comes back? What if he’ll only talk with you through an attorney? What if he gives you his share of the business, like he’s offered? Don’t you care about his pain?”

  Kayla grabbed the bottle and drank. After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes turned cold. “You’re a fine one to talk. He’s in love with you. You’re breaking his heart because there’s no future with you.”

  “What do you mean?” A nervous pulse skittered through her.

  “My brother, my brother, has never loved a woman like he loves you. I doubt he can even admit it to himself. But you’re so stubborn, you can’t throw him a crumb of hope. You’re standing on your pillar of ethics and integrity. But I know.”

  Nola’s heartbeat quickened. “What do you know?”

  “Have…another drink, Nola Belle. I’ll tell you alllll about Nola Dutrey.” The cadence of Kayla’s words suggested the effects of alcohol had kicked in. But she wasn’t alone. Nola fanned herself as a flush rose from her neck to her face.

  Pouring another splash in each glass, Nola thunked the tequila bottle on the table, then she handed a lime to Kayla, and took one for herself.

  “Take…take the”—Kayla motioned with her hand for her to drink—“then, I’ll tell you…what I know.”

  The fear that Kayla might repeat untrue gossip sobered her some. Nola paused. What could Kayla possibly know about her?

  Picking up the glass, Nola licked the remaining salt on her hand, downed the pale liquid, and squeezed the wedge of fruit so the juice dribbled into her mouth.

  “There. Now tell me.”

  Kayla pursed her lips and stared. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re so dammmnn independent. Won’t take help. From anyone. Anyone. You’re afraiddd…afraid…of real success. You give lip service to wanting to help kids. Do the band thingy. No New York. Only summer tours. You live in a cracker box. Work three jobs. You’re fucking great. But you hide. Chickenshit. Why?”

  Nola stood, pushing back the chair. The back of it crashed against the wall. “Who the hell died and made you judge and jury of me?”

  “Ohhh…the mighty Nola Belle is mad.” Kayla bobbed her head.

  “Checkmark. You get a gold star.”

  Kayla blinked. Her eyelids drooped. “Yay, me.” Putting her arms on the table, she rested her head.

  “Awww, crap.” Nola took out her phone and texted Marquis, asking for a ride to deliver Kayla home. He advised he’d be there in a half hour.

  Sitting in silence with her sleeping friend, Nola’s lips formed a pout. Her bottom li
p quivered. The ache in her heart was trying to burst from her chest.

  “Owwwww,” she moaned. Tears welled in her eyes. The bottle of tequila in the middle of the table stared at her. “I don’t want another drink. I want Rex.”

  “I’m here.”

  Startled, she looked around. In the darkness, she could barely make out a silhouette in the opposite corner. It moved. When it started toward her, the light streaming in through the big picture windows allowed her to see. Rex. He looked stern and businesslike in his gray suit and crisp white shirt. But so handsome. Her gaze focused on his lips. She sucked in a breath, rose, and then moved away from the table and Kayla, stepping into the center aisle. Rex drew closer. He pulled her in for a crushing hug, cupped her face with his hands, kissing her hungrily, urgently. Everything about him soothed her aching soul. The scent of his cologne. The strength of his grip. The smoothness of his lips. His tongue traced the outline of her lips and then dipped between them. In opening for him, she was opening all of herself, her soul. She loved him.

  His hands caressed her neck, sliding down her arms.

  Their hands met, and she laced her fingers through his. All the while, their lips kept them locked together.

  She broke the kiss, and he stroked her hair. “I love you, Nola Dutrey,” he whispered. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. His arms went around her lower back, and he hoisted her off the floor while peppering her lips with kisses.

  Euphoria spread through her. Rex loved her. Loved her. He’d said it before, but not directly to her. He was a man declaring his love. Now she wanted to show him how much she loved him.

  Urgently, she needed to feel all of him. Hating the constriction of clothing, she began to remove his jacket. She wanted more of him than his lips and his hands. Peeling his jacket off his shoulders, she tossed it on a table. She reached for his shirt. He’d already started with the top button. She moved to the bottom one. They would meet in the middle.

  As his shirt opened, she smoothed her hands over his chest, soaking in the familiar warmth of him. He pulled her close again. Their bodies compressed together. His hardness pressing into her sent a thrill washing through her body. Moisture formed in her most private place. Building tension pushed at her with urgency.