Tell Me Something Good

by Emery, Lynn

  “That’s an unsubstantiated accusation.” Carlton stared at her hard.

  “You’re so predictable.” Julie sighed. “It wasn’t hard to guess you were up to something. Then there’s the little matter of the financial audit. Wonder what it would show, hmmm?”

  “Nothing,” he barked at her. “Those expenditures were legitimate.”

  “Expenditures, huh? I didn’t know about those. Tsk, tsk.” Julie wagged a forefinger at him.

  “They won’t find anything I can’t justify.” Carlton balled his thick hands into fists.

  “Okay, but don’t be so defensive next time. It makes you look guilty.”

  “Don’t forget, I’m your boss. I can—”

  “Fire me? Go right ahead. I want to see you explain why. Have you forgotten my Aunt Barbara is a member of the board?”

  “You’ve been a bitch since the cradle,” he muttered. “Now you’re trying to get on my good side.”

  Carlton’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Noel is waiting for the right time. I’m sure you’ve given him the dirt on me.”

  Julie shook her head slowly. “How little you understand me after all these years.”

  “Get to the point, Julie. What do you want?” he spat out. “Noel.”

  Carlton let out a harsh sound that was supposed to be a laugh. “Number one, that’s old news. Number two, I can’t make him jump into your bed. You’ve been running after him for years. Take a hint!”

  Julie struggled to maintain her cool exterior. She was •betrayed by a slight tremor of her bottom Up. “We dated n high school.”

  “His mother forced him to take you to one prom.”

  “That’s a lie. We went out more than once!” Julie breathed hard.

  “Whatever gets you through those long lonely nights,’ he cackled.

  “You help me, or I talk. Your grandmother isn’t going to find my story amusing. And I’m sure you won’t be laughing, either.”

  Carlton’s mirth died quickly when he saw the wrath ii her eyes. “This is nuts! I can’t make Noel want you.” “Noel cares for me. He’s just too much into work right now.” Julie’s expression dared him to disagree.

  “I still don’t see what I can do.”

  “Don’t oppose his idea about using the art collection as a company asset. I want in on the whole thing.” Julie stood and paced.

  “He and this Lyrissa Rideau should... now I get it. You’re jealous of her.” Carlton’s eyebrows formed a single dark line.

  “I don’t want him sucked in by the slut. She’s going t come out looking like some kind of savior. I want to get there first.” She stood with her legs apart.

  “I’m lost again.” Carlton looked genuinely baffled. “Just tell me which family members I can call about the art collection. I want to know about every knick-knack, every white elephant before she does.”

  Carton studied her in silence for a time. A cunning light went on in his coffee colored eyes. “I’m not going to be your puppet. Go on, talk. The worse I’ll face is Grandmother’s anger. My father will help me with her and the board.”

  Julie gazed back at him. “Okay, suffer through months of company politics.”

  “I can handle it.” Carlton drew himself up.

  “Her anger won’t just be a temper tantrum. You know damn well it won’t,” Julie pressed. “But we can do a lot for each other.”

  “You’re going to help me? Yeah, right!”

  “I’ll convince Noel to start his own company. He can get the money from the sale of even one valuable piece of the collection.” Julie walked to the edge of his desk and leaned on it with both palms flat. “Tremé Corporation will be yours.”

  Carlton gazed at her for a time, and then wrote on a notepad. “I suggest you start with my cousin, Vic. She just got back from St. Croix.”

  Chapter 9

  Blouses, pants, skirts and dresses in the closet mocked her. Lyrissa had been staring at them for twenty minutes now. A pile of rejects was on her bed. Once again she tried to convince herself to choose anything. Her outfit wasn’t important. She didn’t care what he thought of he looks.

  “This will do,” Lyrissa pulled out a pair of black Capri pants and a white sleeveless blouse. “No, I’ll look like one of the waitresses. Oh, hell!”

  “Lyrissa, what in the world are you doing in there? Aunt Claire called as she climbed the stairs.

  “I’m almost ready.” Lyrissa quickly snatched up the clothes and threw them into the closet. She shut it just as Aunt Claire walked in.

  “You can’t be wearing that!” Aunt Claire pointed ring-bedecked forefinger at her. “Blue jeans cut-offs and a Tweety Bird t-shirt? No indeed!”

  “I’m about to change.” Lyrissa spied the array of makeup spread out. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.

  “Hmmm.” Aunt Claire looked around the room, then back at her.

  “I got caught up in this television show and lost track of time.” She pointed to the television on the other side of her bed.

  “With the sound turned all the way down? Those must have been riveting pictures.” Aunt Claire eyed her in an appraising manner. “You care what this young man thinks of you.”

  “Puh-leeze! He’s about as shallow as they come. I’m going to take a quick shower now.” Lyrissa went into her bathroom with a handful of cosmetics.

  “Come here a moment,” Aunt Claire called out.

  “I really should get moving.”

  “I understand, but this is important.” Aunt Claire’s voice was muffled.

  Lyrissa walked back into the bedroom to find her in the closet. “What are you doing?”

  “This red silk blouse will be just the thing. It’s not too dressy, and the quarter-length sleeves are so in right now.” Aunt Claire held up the cropped black pants and shirt to make her point.

  She had to admit Aunt Claire was right. The blouse had a delicate shimmer. Her black open-toed mules would round out the ensemble perfectly. Lyrissa immediately decided on the jewelry she would wear.

  “Those bold silver hoop earrings, the sterling watch you got for Christmas, and your silver link bracelet are perfect.” Aunt Claire hung the clothes on the oak valet near her bed. Then she picked up the clothes that had been flung onto the closet floor.

  “You’re going to make me believe you are psychic.” Lyrissa rubbed the chill bumps on her arm.

  “Maternal instinct. You forget how well I know you. This mess isn’t like you.” Aunt Claire made a clicking noise with her tongue.

  “I’ve been busy lately.”

  Aunt Claire placed the last blouse on the rack and turned around. “Really, did you think I’d be fooled?”

  “I’m late and you’re jumping to conclusions.” Lyrissa forced a casual flippancy into her voice. She turned her back and opened a dresser drawer.

  “We’ll see,” Aunt Claire said. A knowing smile tugged at the corners of her bow-shaped mouth.

  “Don’t give me that look.” Lyrissa scowled at her aunt’s reflection in the dresser mirror.

  Aunt Claire’s expression did not change. “Hurry along, cher. I’ll entertain Mr. St Denis when he arrives.”

  She sailed out before Lyrissa could think of a suitable rebuttal to her unspoken assessment. Lyrissa whirled around to stare at herself in the mirror. Was she that transparent? She’d gone to sleep last night and promptly dreamed of him. It was no fairytale-type Cinderella dream with chaste kisses, either. She could taste his mouth, sweet and wet. In the dream they had not stopped at kissing. They’d undressed each other right there in the gallery. His skin was smooth and his muscles taut. Things had moved quickly as they can only in dreams. Suddenly she was on her back with her legs clamped tight around his hips. She had awakened to find the top sheet kicked onto the floor and the fitted bottom sheet damp with perspiration. Just thinking about it made her hot.

  “I should throw a sack of ice in this shower.”

  What she did was let cold water stream over her. She had to get herself together to fa
ce him. Lyrissa was still in only her panties applying make-up when the doorbell chimed. Her hand slipped at the sound. A line of plum brandy lipstick went across her cheek.

  Aunt Claire stuck her head in the door “Are you... oh dear! Is that a new fad?”

  “Very funny. I’m two seconds from being totally pulled together.”

  Lyrissa swabbed the lipstick off. She deftly applied more face powder, slipped on her lacy red bra, and put on her slacks. With one hand, she combed her hair back, and then shook her head. The loose curls bounced around her face. Then she used a brush to feather side bangs and added a finishing touch. Last, she put on the blouse.

  “Ta-da!” Lyrissa faced her and put on her best diva smile.

  “You look stunning. He won’t know what hit him.” Aunt Claire giggled.

  “All part of the plan, sweet Tante. All part of the plan.” Lyrissa sashayed out of the bedroom and down the stairs. She marshaled every ounce of attitude she could along the way. No doubt she would need it tonight.

  “Papa must be spinning in his grave. A St. Denis in our living room.” Aunt Claire’s tone was more of titillation than dismay. “This is going to be interesting.”

  “You devil. I think you’re enjoying this,” Lyrissa whispered.

  “This reminds me of those old ‘Mission Impossible’ episodes.”

  “Oh, Aunt Claire.” Lyrissa could not help but laugh.

  Aunt Claire hummed the theme song from the vintage television series. “Your mission, should you decide to accept it...”

  They both halted before entering the living room to re-gain their composure. A deep voice spoke in a respectful tone in answer to Mama Grace’s.

  “I’ll go ahead of you. Make a dramatic entrance,” Aunt Claire said low, then spoke louder as she went through the door. “Here we are. So nice to meet you, Mr. St. Denis.”

  Lyrissa meant to stroll in behind her with a blasé expression. Instead, she ran smack into Aunt Claire. “What the—”

  “My Lord!” Aunt Claire breathed barely above a whisper.

  Her aunt stood just across the threshold. Aunt Claire’s eyes were wide and her mouth formed a small circle in astonishment. Lyrissa stared at her, and then followed her gaze. Noel stood next to Mama Grace. Rather, he towered over her. They were discussing a framed antique map of New Orleans, circa 1801. Yet the showpiece was not hanging on the wall. Noel was magnificent in mocha colored slack: that hugged his hips and muscular thighs. He wore a pullover cotton knit shirt that matched the pants perfectly. His upper arms bulged from the short sleeves in brown glory of smooth skin. The shirt was open at the neck. A dark brown leather belt and shoes completed the picture. Lyrissa groaned to herself. She seriously considered heading back upstairs for another cold shower. At that moment he faced them. Mocha fabric stretched across his fantasy-inspiring chest. Aunt Claire sighed. Lyrissa’s knees sagged.

  Mama Grace glared at them. “I assume you both will come in eventually,” she said. Her jovial tone held an edge to it.

  “How rude of me to stare. I was just thinking how much you look like your grandfather,” Aunt Claire trilled. She recovered enough to smile at him graciously and walk in.

  “I’m glad to meet you, too. Did you know my grandfather?” Noel said.

  “Only from a distance,” Mama Grace cut in smoothly. “Naturally, he was well-known in the city.”

  “Yes, yes,” Aunt Claire added as she bobbed her head.

  Lyrissa took a deep breath and let it out She was ridiculously grateful for even such a brief respite. Then she stepped from behind Aunt Claire to face him.

  “Hi.” She braced herself for the impact of his smile.

  “Hi. You’re amazing.” Noel stared at her with what seemed to be genuine wonder. He didn’t smile. Instead, fire filled his brown eyes.

  Aunt Claire bustled forward to break the charged silence. “Ahem, would you two like a glass of wine, or maybe amaretto, before you go?”

  “Don’t be silly, Claire. I’m sure they’re eager to get to work,” Mama Grace said.

  “Humph, work, indeed,” Aunt Claire murmured. She eyed Noel while he gazed at Lyrissa.

  Mama Grace shot her a cutting glance, and then cleared her throat “I’m glad your grandmother made a frill recovery from her illness last year. I do so admire her. Such a talented and gifted woman.”

  “Thank you. She is that.” Noel smiled.

  Aunt Claire coughed loudly. “Excuse me, something in my throat.”

  Mama Grace ignored her sister. “I read about the St. Denis family art exhibit at the Amistad Center.”

  “Yes, were looking forward to sharing our art with the community. My grandmother is especially thrilled,” Noel replied.

  “Lyrissa tells me you’re in charge of it all. So wonderful to see a young person interested in his family’s heritage.” Aunt Claire beamed at him.

  “Thank you. History wasn’t my favorite subject. Until now.” Noel cast a glance at Lyrissa, then back to Aunt Claire.

  “How convenient.” Mama Grace wore a reserved but polite smile.

  Lyrissa held her breath. She expected her to blow like a kettle filled with boiling water. “Noel is working very hard to make sure the art is properly showcased.”

  “I’m sure, given its worth to his family,” Mama Grace said in a controlled voice.

  “I want it preserved, and not just for us, but for the future,” Noel said.

  “Admirable.” Mama Grace put on a stiff smile.

  “Such a nice young man. Lyrissa tells me you’re a hard-working businessman as well.” Aunt Claire took his arm and led him off.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Noel looked at Lyrissa, a question in his dark eyes.

  Lyrissa shrugged in reply. “I’ll be here,” she called out with a slight smile.

  “Let me show you some more of our prints in the den.

  Of course, they don’t compare to your family’s art.” Aunt Claire babbled on rapidly as they walked.

  “He has the same arrogant bearing as his grandparents,” Mama Grace burst out, the moment they were gone.

  “Aunt Claire seems charmed. She’s a pretty good judge of character.” Lyrissa stared down the hall, though they were gone.

  “Oh please! She’ll believe almost anything a handsome man says.” Mama Grace pursed her lips.

  “He’s not exactly what we expected, though.” Lyrissa crossed to a chair and sat down hard.

  “Don’t be silly. He’s a St Denis. Scratch the golden surface and you’ll see brass.” Mama Grace shed the last vestige of cordiality, now that they were alone.

  “I suppose,” Lyrissa said uncertainly.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve inherited your great aunt’s gullibility. Lord give me strength! They're high-class con men, have been for generations. How do you think—”

  “Yes, yes, I know. His ancestor scammed our ancestor out of a masterpiece.”

  Lyrissa squirmed on the upholstered seat. Her grand-mother must have detected something in Lyrissa’s tone. Mama Grace marched over and sat down on the settee across from Lyrissa. She stared at Lyrissa’s outfit

  “Interesting ensemble for a business dinner,” she said.

  “I’m not—”

  “Remember his reputation.” Mama Grace poked her knee with a forefinger.

  Lyrissa sat straight. “I’m not naive.”

  “Good.” Mama Grace was about to say more when Aunt Claire’s twittering laugh moved closer.

  “You know, I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Aunt Claire patted his arm like they were old pals.

  “I’m sure his intentions were purely to document the times.” Noel winked at her, which brought more laughter.

  “Uncle Herbert did photograph Storyville quite a bit.” Aunt Claire’s eyebrows arched. “Grace, I believe we’re on the verge of uncovering a family scandal.”

  Mama Grace assumed a mask of affability again. “What is that, darlin’?”

  “Noel pointed out something I don’t think we’d consid
ered. Uncle Herbert must have spent hours in Storyville. What would a respected church deacon be doing in that notorious hotbed of debauchery?” Aunt Claire’s green eyes twinkled.

  “Interesting question.” Mama Grace looked at her stonily.

  “Ahem, time for us to leave,” Lyrissa said, as she sprang to her feet.

  “Right. I enjoyed my tour, Aunt Claire.” Noel gave her hand a squeeze.

  When Mama Grace rolled her eyes, Lyrissa blocked their view of her by bending down. She kissed her cheek. “Cut that out,” she whispered, and then added louder, “Good night, Mama.”

  “Good night, darlin’,” Mama Grace said with a brittle smile. “I hope you come again, Mr. St. Denis.”

  “Call me Noel.” He grasped her hand and held it for a few moments. “I’m really glad we met.”

  “So am I. Claire is right, you’re a fine young man. But of course, what would we expect from the St. Denis family?” Mama Grace clasped his hand with both of hers.

  Now Lyrissa wanted to roll her eyes. They’d need hip boots to wade through the bull in another second. “Like I said, let’s get going. The band will start in less than fifteen minutes.”

  “Good night, ladies,” Noel called out He seemed cheerfully unaware of any undercurrent

  They went out and got into his car. Noel turned on the radio to an FM jazz station. “Your grandmother and great-aunt are wonderful ladies.”

  “Real family treasures.”

  “Aunt Claire is sweet as a praline.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Lyrissa wondered if he liked her because she seemed so credulous. Mama Grace’s suspicions rang in her ears. Had one kiss scrambled her common sense? His mention of candy made her think of the sweetness of his mouth on hers. She wrestled with the sensation in an effort to beat it back. The sultry alto sax on the radio didn’t help any. They were wrapped in its clear tones. The soft leather seats encouraged her to relax. The expertly engineered luxury car muffled street sounds.

  “You’re into the music,” he said quietly, and placed a hand over hers on the seat. “I’m like that, too. I love getting lost in a melody.”