Toxic New Year: The Day That Wouldn't End: The Day That Wouldn't End (Alex Desephano Series Book 4)

by Judith Lucci

  Alex watched in amusement as Bridgett pushed the wad of gum in her mouth to one side.

  “Gosh, Alex,” Bridgett began. “It’s only a little after 11. Don’t you think it’s a bit early to eat?”

  Alex shook her head, “No, not really. I didn’t have much breakfast and I’m starving. Besides, I need a break from all this chart review. Want to go with me to the Cajun Café?”

  Bridgett’s forehead wrinkled as she contemplated lunch. Her hand patted her non-existent belly in anticipation, her bright pink nails gleaming in the light from her desk lamp. “Do you think we could wait at least 30 minutes? I’d like for Angie to go with us and I think her lunch break is at 11:30?”

  "Absolutely," Alex exclaimed with delight.

  Angela Richelieu was Bridgett’s identical twin sister and equally as gorgeous. Angela was a nurse in the ICU, and had just been promoted to the associate director of all the ICUs at CCMC. She was a first class clinician and an excellent leader.

  “I‘d love to see Angie,” Alex admitted and smiled broadly. “But I don’t know if the Cajun Café could handle all three of us at one table! Henri might pass out in delight,” she added, winking at Bridgett.

  Bridgett popped her gum. “It’s you that Henry has a crush on! Not Angela and I. Henry knows we’re both married with children. It’s you he pines for every day,” Bridgett gushed, surveying Alex’s beautiful lavender suit and silk blouse. “Why, Alex, you know he’s terribly jealous of Dr. Bonnet, right?”

  Alex shook her head, smiling at Bridgett. I just love her.

  Bridgett rose from her desk, a mass of legs and four inch heels, and moved toward Alex. “Where’d you get this? It looks very old. Is it an amethyst,” Bridgett asked, touching the beautiful brooch on the lapel of Alex’s lavender jacket.

  Alex nodded. “Great taste! Honest to goodness, Bridge, for a Cajun chick, you truly have a great eye. Yes, it is my grandmother’s amethyst brooch. The metal around it is actually gold, silver and rose gold. My grandmother gave it to me a couple of weeks ago, while I was still in Virginia. I have matching earrings, but I’m having them repaired uptown.”

  As Bridgett continued to examine her brooch, Alex studied her friend’s face. The two women were about the same height, but Bridgett always appeared a couple of inches higher with the 4 inch stilettos she somehow managed to cram her feet into every morning. Alex thought she noticed some worry lines around Bridgett’s eyes as she examined her closely. Bridgett seemed a little tired, perhaps preoccupied.

  Concerned for her friend, Alex asked, “Are you okay, Bridgett? You look a little tired. Are you sleeping well?”

  “Of course. You know I sleep like a log. I’m just fine,” Bridgett responded quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly Alex thought.

  Alex was suspicious. “Okay, just checking. I can’t have anything happening to you, Bridgett. You know, I don’t think I could work here if it wasn’t for you. You make my day,” Alex admitted honestly.

  Bridgett shook her head and laughed, “Now, now, cut the BS. You have tons of friends here. You have Henri over at the Cajun who is in love with you, you have Dr. Bonnet who is also in love with you, no question there, and you have Mike, the security guard who stays late just to walk you to your car and .…”

  Alex waved her hand in protest. “Oh stop it, Bridgett. You know what I mean. You’re my breath of fresh air on most days.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever you say. How about a $100,000 raise then,” Bridgett suggested, her perfectly plucked eyebrows arched and her hand on her hip. She stood next to Alex, a mass of blonde hair and blue eyes and teal blue ruffles. She was breathtaking.

  “Okay, I’ll approve that. Let me go get a signature from Don. Then you’ll be all set,” Alex agreed with a smile.

  Bridgett frowned. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d sign right off on that. Leticia said he’s been foul all week. Apparently revenues are down again, and he’s talking about no employee raises at all,” Bridgett said in a disgruntled tone.

  Alex nodded, “I did hear that rumor, but I wouldn’t worry about it. Revenues are always down this time year because people have recovered from the winter illnesses. It’ll pick up, I promise,” she said, walking toward her office. “I think that’s my cell phone ringing, call me when Angela is ready.”

  Bridgett returned to her computer and Alex checked the digital display on her phone. It was a New York area code, but no one was on the other end. It rang again and the same number popped up, but there was still no answer. Alex fiddled with her phone, making sure the volume was up, and waited for the number to ring again. It didn’t.

  Bridgett buzzed her from the outer office. “Hey, there’s a guy on the hospital line. He says he’s a relative of yours and he’s been trying to call you. Should I put him through?”

  Alex was puzzled. “A man? A relative? I have no idea who that could be. My cell rang with a New York area code. Does he sound like someone from New York?”

  “Nope, not at all,” Bridgett replied. “As a matter of fact, he sounds like he is from here. He speaks with a New Orleans dialect.”

  “Humph, that’s interesting. Sure, what have I got to lose? Put him through.”

  “Done, let me know. I love a good mystery, especially if there’s a man involved,” Bridgett chortled.

  Several second later her phone rang. “Alex Destephano,” she answered.

  The line was silent. Alex thought she heard a sob on the other end. “Hello, hello, this is Alex. Can I help you?”

  A man cleared his throat and said, “Hello, Alex, this is your father, Louis Destephano.”

  Alex was flooded with memories. My father, the man who deserted me when I was three years old, the man who never sent me a birthday card or Christmas gift, the man who my grandfather holds responsible for my mother’s illness. For a moment, she thought her heart had stopped. She was unable to speak. Tears jumped into her eyes.

  The voice continued, “I know you are surprised I called. I have so many things to tell you, to say. Please, will you see me, Alex? I am in New Orleans. Can you meet me this afternoon at the Palm Court?”

  Alex was still unable to speak. Then she opened her mouth and croaked, “Sure, I guess so.”

  She thought she heard an enormous sigh of relief. Then the voice asked, “Will three o’clock work for you?”

  “Yes, yes, that is fine,” Alex replied in a voice that was not her own. “I’ll see you then,” she added breathlessly.

  “Thank you, my dear, thank you. You have no idea how long I have waited to hear you say that,” the voice replied with relief.

  “See you then,” she said and clicked off.

  She sat at her desk, overcome with emotion. A hundred feelings were jetting through her brain. How dare that lousy bastard call me after thirty some years and want to see me. He deserted me and I have missed him all of my life. Why the hell am I seeing him? I must be nuts.

  As she continued to ponder the phone call, she had to admit to herself that she was scared, terrified even. Suppose he doesn’t like me, suppose I am a disappointment to him. Wait, let me turn this around, suppose he continues to be a disappointment to me. Why’d he call anyway? What does he want? Does he need money?

  Alex continued to stew in her thoughts. Then her office door opened and Bridgett and Angela stood in the doorway.

  The two sisters looked exactly the same, except for their clothes. Angela’s hair was pinned up in a stylish bun and she was dressed considerably more conservatively than her funky, wild-card sister. Under her white lab coat, Angie wore a dark business suit with a white shell and pearls.

  Alex flashed Angela a bright smile and asked, “How’s the new job? You got those trauma surgeons under control?”

  Angela rolled her eyes, shrugged her shoulders and said, “I hope so, Alex. The surgeons can be a huge pain in the butt, but then you know that. I have no trouble with the medical guys. There’s just something about that surgeon mentality.”

  Alex nodded. “How well I k
now,” she said with a strange edge to her voice. Bridgett gave her a curious look and asked, “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you picking on Dr. B again?” Bridgett loved the handsome, charming, and refined Robert Bonnet, and had been quite verbal to Alex about her opinions. In fact, Bridgett was Robert’s biggest cheerleader. Alex tolerated it because she loved Bridgett, but it did irritate her a bit.

  “There’s no way she could,” Angela intervened. “He’s my rock up there. I am so glad he’s chief of surgery. If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t be in this job.”

  Alex smiled and nodded, but offered no response. “Let’s go eat, ladies. I’m famished and I need to get out of this office,” Alex announced, changing the subject.

  The three beautiful women turned many heads as they walked down the hospital corridor in deep in conversation and laughing the entire way. The click, click, click of their heels echoed through the halls.

  Lunch was great, it always was. Chef Henri was delighted to have such lovely ladies in his restaurant and gushed over them incessantly. It was during lunch that Alex decided to swing by Monique Desmonde’s office on the way back to talk about the phone call from Louis.

  As the three women stood to leave, Alex gave Angela a hug and said to Bridgett, “I’m gonna stop over at The Pavilion and see how Monique is. I should be back shortly, but I do have a 3:00 outside the hospital. Could you give Martin a call for me?”

  Bridgett nodded. “OK, should I text you if something comes up?”

  “Sure. I’ll be available, but I don’t expect anything,” Alex replied.

  “Well, there’s always Don you know, and you know how he is when he wants you,” Bridgett added as the three of them pealed with laughter.

  It was Alex’s turn to roll her eyes. “Yeah, it’s OK. You can put him through, but make him stew just a bit,” Alex suggested.

  “I love that idea and I will do it,” Bridgett promised as she and Angie waved bye in the main hospital atrium.

  Chapter 48

  Louis, Shooter, and Stark sat in the lush Courtyard of the famed Court of Two Sisters restaurant finishing up their lunch. It was a beautiful day in New Orleans. The sky was pale blue, the sun was bright and warm, and the foliage and palms were diverse shades of green. Flowering plants, including azaleas and camellias, added floral beauty to the Courtyard.

  Louis was feeling good, his recent heart attack a near distant memory. He felt safe and secure, surrounded by his godson Shooter and Jacob Stark. The three had been to see the ‘man’ to get passports and credentials for Stark and his family. Shooter, in his own words, had tagged along for ‘the free eats’. They had talked quietly as Louis had dialed Alex’s number, and then they left the table. Both men knew how important this phone call was to the old man and were respectful of his privacy.

  “Hey, what do you know about his daughter,” Stark asked Shooter. “Have you ever met her?”

  Shooter shook his head, and tried to talk between mouthfuls of gumbo. He swallowed a piece of shrimp and said, “Not much. She’s from some important, big-wig family in Virginia. Louis met and married her mother here in NOLA.” He scratched his abundant, dirty blonde hair, trying to remember. “I think her mother was a student at Tulane or UNO, don’t know for sure. She was supposedly a real looker, but sort of fragile, or sickly, or something like that.”

  “Well, what happened?” Stark was intrigued.

  “Man, I just don’t know all of it, but supposedly they went to her home in Virginia, and Louie and her old man didn’t hit it off. Her father was furious and demanded his daughter stay in Virginia, but she didn’t, and the couple returned to New Orleans.”

  “Humph, and ...,” Stark commented. “Then what?”

  Shooter laid down his spoon and said, “Well, you gotta remember that Louie was no prize then. He was a capo … street boss … a two-bit hood for the Marcello family …, basically a gangster. The ‘family’,” Shooter held up his fingers to simulate quotation marks, “was putting him through Tulane Law and they had plans for him to become the family lawyer.”

  Stark learned his head in. “That’s pretty intense. And then what?”

  “From what I heard, the daughter was born and his wife went wacko. I guess now it’s called ‘post-partum depression’. So they returned to Virginia, and she was hospitalized. But she really never got any better. His father-in-law ordered Louis to stay away -- threw him out of the family home --, and somehow managed to get custody of the daughter. The father-in-law dude was some famous, rich guy, who had lots of power with police and judges and so forth.” Shooter stopped for a minute and rolled his eyes. “Anyway, the bastard got Louie out of the state and Louie returned to New Orleans, finished law school, and decided to go straight. Somehow, or for some reason, Carlos Marcello let him loose and Louie moved to New York, started a law practice, and made tons of money with investments and law practice. All totally legit.”

  Stark digested this for a minute and asked, “Why’d the mob let him go? Isn’t that unusual?” Stark knew little about the mafia, but had heard this along the way.

  Shooter shook his head. “Don’t really know. I suspect they made some deal, or Carlos lent Louie to the Gambino family in New York. I’m sure there was some price to pay to get out. Actually ....” Shooter scratched his head again and continued, “I think I remember he got a couple of mob guys off for racketeering and drugs. Dunno for sure.”

  Stark was silent as he processed this information. He decided he’d probably act just like Louis’s father-in-law if a guy like Louis Destephano had shown up as Haley’s husband. It was just a bad situation. From what he could see, Louis Destephano was a top-notch guy and a good man, perhaps with a tainted past but nevertheless, he’d turned his life around and that was good enough for Stark. He hoped Louis’s daughter would see him. He couldn’t imagine being estranged from Haley. She was his life.

  Stark looked up at Shooter and said, “Hope it works out. I like him.”

  Shooter smiled affably. “Good, glad to hear it. Louie’s good people. He’s a good man that I consider my father – in every way. I know you’ll take care of him, Jacob.”

  Jacob nodded. “Done, not to worry. Look at all Louis has done for me in a few weeks and will do for my family. I’m committed, no question. But, I want you to tell me about your biological dad sometime.”

  A look of disgust and anger crossed Shooter’s handsome features and his face paled in anger. “It’s not worth your time to hear it, nor my time to tell it.”

  Stark persisted, “Man, we’re friends. And anger isn’t a useful emotion. It’s destructive and gets in the way.”

  Shooter stiffened and said, “OK, You asked for it. Here’s the two sentence version, the longer version is worse. He’s a two-bit mobster, no values, no morals or ethics. He’s mean, vicious, and vindictive, has beady eyes, and kills without compunction.”

  Stark was amazed at the anger in Shooter’s voice. To ease the tension and diffuse his anger Stark said, “Well, you must’ve gotten your looks from your mother.”

  Shooter stared at him and said, his eyes and voice flat, “I wouldn’t know. The son of a bitch killed her when I was three years old.”

  Stark met his friend’s gaze, eye to eye and said, “I understand why you hate him. Let me know if I can help.”

  Shooter gave him a half smile. “You are helping. The way I hear it, Fredrico put out the hit on Louis. He hates him with a passion.”

  “Humph … interesting, Stark added. “Good to know. I thought it was Joey Andretti.” He waved to Louis across the courtyard, “Here comes our man and he looks happy.”

  Louis’s heart thudded in his chest. He gave Stark and Shooter a thumbs up and said excitedly, “She’s coming! I’m going to meet my daughter after 30 years.” Louis was so excited that he was a bit short of breath. “I can’t wait, I’ve been waiting for this day forever.”

  Shooter jumped up and clapped him on the back. “Way to go, dude, I knew you had it in you. What’d she say? How did
she sound?”

  Louis was quiet for a moment and answered, “She sounded like a Virginia lady. She has that beautiful Virginia accent, like her mother, that accent that just melts my heart.” He paused for a moment and wiped a tear from his eye, reliving the conversation and continued, “She sounded sort of scared, a little upset maybe, but she agreed to meet me. Today at three at the Palm Court.”

  “Yippee, I’m going too. I’ve been wanting to meet my sister for a long time,” Shooter’s enthusiasm was infectious.

  Louis raised his thick eyebrows and gave him a firm look. “You can go, but you’re not sitting with us and you’re not talking to her. That will happen later, if she agrees to see me again.”

  Shooter looked deflated. “OK, I guess that makes sense. I can wait a while longer.”

  A look of worry flitted across Louis’s face. “Guys, suppose she doesn’t like me, suppose she’s angry with me?”

  “Well, um, I think she will have anger. In her mind she may think you have deserted her, and who knows what her grandfather has told her over the years,” Shooter suggested.

  Stark nodded his head in agreement. “Louis, I think Shooter’s most likely right on this one. You’ll just have to hear her out and explain the best you can without putting her on the defensive.”

  Louis’s brow furrowed as he thought about what his friends said. He responded slowly, thinking out loud. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But you know, thirty years later, I’d have done the same thing Alex’s grandfather did. I was a piece of crap back then, a piece of garbage in the New Orleans mafia, for God’s sake. I’d have disliked me too and kicked me out.”

  “Just say that, Louis. That’s all you gotta say. You’re speaking from the heart. Just be honest and things will be fine,” Shooter reassured him.