The Proud and the Prejudiced: A Modern Twist on Pride and Prejudice

by Colette Saucier

  Then the opening strains of “Sweet Home Alabama” set everyone in the bar screaming, and a few seconds later, Eileen had pulled her off the barstool and onto the crowded dance floor, with Evan and Dirk right behind them. Alice caught a glimpse of the table where Peter sat simmering and Cleo sulked, but the energy ran through the place like an epidemic, and the swarm overtook her.

  She laughed when she and the others joined in the cry of ooh, ooh, ooh then shouted at Eileen, “WHY DO WE LIKE THIS SONG?”

  “BECAUSE IT’S FUN!” Eileen screamed back.

  Alice and Dirk had ceded their barstools when they got up to dance, and they followed Eileen and Evan back to their table where Peter and Cleo now occupied two of the four stools. Peter stood to offer his seat, but Alice waved as she walked past them.

  “I have to go powder my nose.”

  Even in the poor lighting of the claustrophobic two-stall ladies room, she could still see her sweaty, blurry face in the mirror. She splashed water on her face, on her neck, chest, and under her arms and patted dry with paper towels. She shook her head at her reflection, thinking of flirting so flagrantly with Dirk and wondering what the hell was going on with Peter. Did he actually plan to leave Cleo and go to a blues club? With me? “That’s it,” she said aloud to herself. “No more cocktails…tonight.”

  When she returned, the others had managed to scrounge up two more stools and crowd them around the tall table, the only one not occupied between Dirk and Evan. Peter and Cleo caught her attention as soon as she sat down. Cleo blew cigarette smoke away from the table, swinging her crossed leg and paying no attention to the others. Thin, pale, almost sickly, as befitting her role as a vampire, contrasted with the tall, strong, masculinity of Peter, Alice could not see them as a couple; and Peter certainly did not attend to her as a lover. Maybe Winnie has nothing to worry about after all.

  Peter caught her staring and met her gaze with a slight grin. “So, Alice, who’s next on your list?”

  “What list?” Dirk asked.

  “She’s been telling me her top ten favorite guitarists.”

  “You have a top ten list of guitarists?”

  She shrugged. “I do love a good guitar line.”

  Peter raised his eyebrows. “I’m waiting.”

  “Eddie Hazel.”

  He frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think I know him.”

  Oh, this is too good. She ran her tongue across her teeth with a sly grin. “You should. He played lead guitar for Parliament. You know. ‘Give Up the Funk.’ So he also was with Funkadelic.”

  Peter nodded. “That’s the band that recorded your favorite song.”

  “What is it?” asked Dirk, giving her an excuse to tear away from Peter’s penetrating stare.

  “It’s only one of my favorites, but I’d rather not say.”

  “Miss McGillicutty,” Peter said, capturing her attention again. “You mustn’t leave us in suspense.”

  “The only reason you could possibly want to know is so you can make fun of my taste in music some more, so I suppose you will just have to get used to disappointment.”

  “No one who has ever heard you talk about music could ever doubt your taste.”

  Her eyes downcast, she knew she could not attribute the flush heating her face to alcohol. She could feel him watching her as Evan and Dirk began cajoling her in stereo to give it up.

  She held up her palms to quiet them. “All right, all right. I’ll tell you. But after all this build-up, you’re going to be disappointed.” She tried to catch Eileen’s eye, but, staring straight ahead, Eileen finished off her beer as though she wanted no part of the conversation, leaving Alice no choice but to face Peter. “It’s ‘Maggot Brain.’”

  Peter winced and looked at her with the condescension she had expected.

  “‘Maggot Brain,’” Evan repeated.

  “You shouldn’t judge it until you’ve heard it.”

  “I doubt I’ll ever have the opportunity to listen to a song called ‘Maggot Brain,’” Peter said.

  “You can listen to it anytime you’re willing,” Alice said. “I have it on my phone.”

  “Then let me hear it now.”

  “There’s no way you could hear it over the band.”

  “Maybe we could request that they play it.”

  “No way! Even if they know it, which I seriously doubt, they couldn’t do it justice.”

  Peter stood up from his barstool, prompting a glance from Cleo and causing confusion among the others. “Then let’s step outside. Bring your phone and let me hear it. As you said, how else can I judge?”

  Without thinking, she said, “Eileen, hand me my bag.” Eileen pulled Alice’s small purse out of her larger one and handed it to her. Alice set her phone on the table then continued to fish through her bag. “You’ll be able to hear it better with earbuds.”

  “You keep earpods in your purse?”

  She slipped them out then slid off her stool. “Yeah, well, I’m always pretending to myself that I’m actually going to get some exercise.” She located the song on the phone as she stepped over to Peter then held it out for him. “Here you go.”

  He flinched back. “Oh, no. If I’m going to listen to something about maggots, you’re going to listen with me.” Then he walked away, the obvious implication being that he expected she would follow.

  She sighed and turned to go, but Eileen stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Alice, just the song. OK?” She pleaded with her eyes.

  “I know, I know.”

  “What’s going on?” Dirk asked.

  Evan leaned toward Dirk and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “Alice and Peter have some big feud going on.”

  Puzzlement creased Dirk’s features. “Really.”

  Before skulking away, she said, “If I’m not back in ten minutes, come rescue me.”

  When she met Peter at the side exit, he motioned for her to pass. “After you, Miss McGillicutty.”

  They walked only a few yards away from the bar before Alice stopped, unwilling to go farther with him even though the music had followed them.

  “Shouldn’t we move down more?”

  “No, this will be fine.” She plugged the earpods into her phone. “Just stick your finger in your other ear.”

  Peter leaned against the brick wall with a frown and a huff as she ascertained the left from the right earpiece. Handing him the right and pushing the other into her left ear, she glanced up as he inspected it. “Now, you have to understand it’s not going to sound as good if you don’t use both of them. Are you sure you don’t want to use both earbuds? You know, I have heard it before.”

  “No, no.” He shook his head, and the frown fell away as he placed the bud in one ear and his finger in the other. “Whenever you’re ready, Miss McGillicutty.”

  The short length of the cord forced her closer to him, and she pressed play.

  During the opening arpeggio, his straight mouth and eyes rolled up to the sky told her he expected to be unimpressed. Then on that first dramatic intense riff of the lead, his fathomless eyes fell upon her, the serious line of his lips denoting something far different from ennui. The song had always affected her, but now the strings of the guitar reached deep around her sternum and tightened around her heart.

  Halfway through, the song drew quiet, and she didn’t think she could bear another five minutes in such close proximity with her head swimming in whisky and his heat causing her a chill.

  “After that, it’s just pretty much more of the same.”

  She reached to take the earbud from him, but he clasped her hand near her cheek. “No. I want to hear the rest.”

  When the screaming guitar line began again, their eyes met, and she lost her breath and pulled her hand away. Her breasts felt heavy, and her nipples tightened as if a cool breeze had fluttered between them, but the night air was as hot, dense, and still as ever.

  She squeezed her eyes closed both to block out the man sharing this moment and to revel in
its succulence.

  Once it ended, they pulled the buds from their ears and he locked her in his gaze. “That is the sexiest song I have ever heard, and you are the sexi—”

  “Peter!” Cleo, who, like an apparition, appeared out of thin air beside Peter—both her greatest annoyance and her avenging angel. Ignoring Alice, she whined, “What are you doing out here?”

  His eyes closed and his hardened jaw thrust forward as he gnashed his top teeth against the bottom, he took in a full breath through his flared nostrils. Then opening his eyes, he spoke on the exhalation. “We were talking about music.”

  “Music? Well, good. Can’t we go someplace where they play real music?”

  Peter half-turned in her direction. “Real music? Like a blues club?”

  “What? No. I’m tired of listening to all these oldies. There’s a club down closer to Canal Street with a DJ playing music, like, you know, from this century. Someplace we can really dance.”

  Backing away and twisting the cord around her trembling fingers, Alice said, “You should take her, Peter. You might even get to do the Cupid Shuffle.”

  She hustled away from them as the Cleo squeal continued behind her and rushed straight to the bar. The bartender met her in an instant. “Double Jack on the rocks with a splash of ginger ale.”

  She lifted the cup with a shaky hand and drank it all down before returning to her friends, grateful that Peter did not follow her in, and loving Cleo more than she ever thought possible.

  CHAPTER 12

  The group of cast and crew were virtually the only inhabitants of the courtyard at McMurry’s; and Alice sat with Eileen, Evan, and Dirk at a table near the flaming fountain.

  Dirk said, “I’m surprised there aren’t more tourists.”

  “Well, it is a Monday night,” said Eileen. “They are probably going home or still recovering from the weekend.”

  “Or maybe they are just hot,” Alice said, eliciting groans from Evan and Eileen.

  “How long are you going to bitch about the heat?”

  “I guess until I cool off.”

  Then the voice. “Try this. Maybe it will cool you off.”

  Alice spun her head around and reflexively accepted the glass Peter extended to her.

  “A mint julep,” he said. “May I join you?”

  Well, who is going to tell Peter Walsingham no? Alice didn’t budge but sipped her drink as the others rearranged chairs to accommodate the new arrival.

  “It’s delicious,” she said to Peter once he had settled beside her. And it was. “Thank you.” He nodded in reply.

  “What brings you out again, Pete?” Dirk asked with a concerned glance at Alice. “You aren’t afraid that the film will suffer if you aren’t holed away rehearsing?”

  “I don’t think the film could suffer any more than it does already,” Peter said.

  “And where is your lovely co-star?” Alice asked.

  “Cleo? I sent her to bed with warm milk and the script.”

  “Isn’t Cleo known for her extraordinary talents and miraculous virtues?”

  “Is she? I’d like to see that side of her.”

  “Perhaps she could put the script under her pillow and learn her lines by osmosis.”

  He smiled at her. “Nothing else has worked.”

  He smiled at me...He often smiled at her.

  “Thank you for sharing your song with me,” he said low, close to her face. “It truly is amazing. I doubt I ever would have heard it if you hadn’t played it for me.”

  She nodded and turned away to hide the blush heating face. Her song. She doubted she could ever listen to it again, not without thinking of him.

  The song she had loved so long and so deeply had betrayed her, coerced her body’s traitorous reactions, gripping her by the ankles and transmitting a sensation through her claves, between her thighs, and into her womb. It had wound its way through her stomach and between her breasts, forming a lump in her throat before squirming into her head.

  Like maggots.

  Eating away all sense in her brain.

  She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Did, uh, did you take Cleo to that dance club?”

  “I did, under your recommendation, but I think you might have been having fun at my expense. In any case, we didn’t stay long because once we were recognized, the paparazzi descended on us like vultures.”

  “So you didn’t get to do the Cupid Shuffle? I would have paid to see that.”

  “I’m afraid the opportunity did not present itself. What is it, anyway?”

  “It’s just a fun little dance. Cupid actually is from here in Louisiana.”

  “Cupid in Louisiana? Perhaps the gods are in my favor after all.” He took another sip of his drink without his eyes ever leaving her.

  Nothing felt right. Nothing felt real. Conversations continued around her, but she heard all of the voices as if she were underwater. Her skin waged a shoving-match with the atmosphere, the heavy, floral-scented night air covering her like a warm, damp blanket. She had already had three cocktails. She must be drunk from the alcohol and the humidity. She drank the mint julep then fished two ice cubes from the glass and put them on the nape of her neck. She closed her eyes as the ice melted into a cool rivulet down her back.

  “Are you OK?” Peter asked, and she opened her eyes.

  “Yes, I really am just hot and tired and – oh, my God.” At the sight of the scurrying creature on the wall, she spoke low but wanted to scream.

  “What is it?”

  “What was in this drink? Please tell me I’m hallucinating.” He followed her line of vision. “On the wall. Right there. Running on the wall. Is that a…a rat?”

  “Do you mean with the white fur?”

  “Well, yes!”

  He turned back to her. “No, I don’t see anything. I think you are hallucinating.” He stuck two fingers into her glass and retrieved more ice. He leaned toward her and ran his hand beneath her hair and held the ice against her skin.

  The nearness of his mouth made her dizzy and her heart race, and his holding the ice against her somehow made her warmer. “Then how did you know it was white?”

  “Oh, the white fur. No, that’s not a rat. That was a cat.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t think I believe you. Eileen?” But by the time she got Eileen’s attention, the ivy-covered walls were critter-free.

  “Do you want another drink?” Peter asked.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  The ice had melted, but he still held his hand against her damp neck, his fingers gently massaging the base of her skull. “I think I’m too late for that.”

  He’s trying to seduce me. He’s trying to seduce me, and it’s working.

  Eileen called out, “Alice, are you ready to go?”

  Alice nodded, and Peter stood with his hand still on her neck and offered to walk them.

  “No, we’ll be OK,” Eileen said. “It’s just a few blocks.”

  “I’m worried about her.”

  Once Alice realized Peter meant her, she forced herself to her feet. “No, I’m fine. You stay here and enjoy your juleps.”

  Peter reached for her hand, but Alice turned and walked across the courtyard and through the hall out to the Quarter before he could say anything.

  Eileen ran up behind her. “Alice, what is going on with you and Peter?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m like the Matterhorn to him.”

  “The Matterhorn?”

  “Just another conquest he has yet to make. He wants to plant his flag in me.”

  CHAPTER 13

  “Why are you crying?” Alice asked Eileen when she found her sitting alone in the courtyard behind the bar.

  “I don’t know.” Eileen sniffed and wiped at her eyes with a cocktail napkin. “I’m happy; I’m sad. I can’t believe it’s over. My first film!”

  Evan walked over from the bar and set down three cocktails. “She’s just sorry our little famil
y is breaking up,” he said as he sat down.

  “Don’t make fun, Evan. I am going to miss everyone. I wish I were going to Toronto with you.”

  “We only have to reshoot a few scenes, just a few days. I will call you as soon as I get back to L.A. Now stop all that crying and let’s have a good time tonight. A toast.” They lifted their plastic cups. “May all the bridges we burn light our way.”

  After one recklessly large sip, Alice contorted her face and stuck out her tongue. “Blech! What is that?”

  “Red Bull and vodka. Keep drinking – you’ll get used to it. I want you girls to have plenty of energy tonight for singing!” He sang the final word.

  “Oh, yeah – no one told me this was a karaoke bar. Eileen knows I hate karaoke.”

  “Come on,” Eileen said. “It’ll be fun. It’s our last night. You have a wonderful singing voice.”

  “Uh-uh. No way. Since it’s the last night and won’t become a regular thing, I’ll stay and laugh at all of you, but I am not getting on that stage. There’s a reason I work behind the scenes.”

  “What reason is that?” Peter’s voice asked behind her.

  Alice twisted her neck to face him. “I do not perform for strangers.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up a fraction of an inch. “May we join you?”

  “Where is Cleo?”

  He blinked and said, “How should I know?”

  Dirk had walked out with Peter and maneuvered another chair next to Alice and sat down. “How are you, pretty girl?”

  After the night of what Alice referred to as the “Rat McFurry’s Incident,” the cast and some of the crew had continued to patronize the French Quarter’s drinking establishments. Peter would appear wherever they were, sometimes with Cleo. In general, Alice had managed to keep her distance since Dirk monopolized her attention while Peter hovered nearby. Occasionally the paparazzi would arrive, snapping photos of the film’s two stars, prompting Peter to leave. For the most part, in a city known for leaving celebrities alone, no one approached him, although there were plenty of gawkers and phones taking pictures.

  Peter pulled a buzzing cellphone from his pocket and, after checking the screen, excused himself to take the call.