by Kimball Lee
“No… yes… I mean that’s fine, thanks for the compliment! Thank you very much for appreciating my dress and… everything, Brodie. You’re really sweet and I kinda needed an appreciative nod right now,” she said and blushed at the happiness that swept over his face at her words. “Where are we going? I have to tell you, I’m in the mood to party tonight and I haven’t experienced Bourbon Street yet.”
“I can make that happen,” Brodie said and he led her outside and she laughed when he flagged down a touristy horse-drawn carriage to carry them the few blocks to the heart of the French Quarter.
“Where y’at chere? Ooh lala, you da most bee-u-tee-ful mademoiselle I seen since da Queen of Mardi Gras!” The driver said and a sharp pang of sadness shot through Allie as she recalled the lyrical accent of Alphonse Baptiste and the last night she’d spent with William before her fairytale crumbled to dust.
“We’re just fine tonight, thanks for asking,” Brodie said and Allie realized that the phrase “where y’at” actually meant “how are you doing?”
“Would you drop us off near the corner of Bienville and Bourbon Street please?” Brodie asked the driver politely.
“Oh ya, chere! The Old Absinthe House, man dats da goodest old place I know of to get a stiff drink. You be sure to order da Sazerac cocktail mademoiselle, you can’t leave Nawlins wid out you try dat one.”
“We’ll just have a quick drink there before dinner, Allie. It’s one of the oldest buildings in the city and sort of a rite of passage to have the cocktail that was originally made with absinthe,” Brodie said and he sat close to her in the carriage as the sights and the sounds of the Vieux Carre beckoned to them.
“I should only have one cocktail, I’m sort of a cheap drunk,” Allie shouted over the noise as they made their way through the crowded bar.
“Well that’s no problem, I’m here to make sure you get through the night safely and with your virtue intact!”
They both laughed at that, and Brodie pulled out a chair for Allie at a tiny table in a dark corner of the bar. His hands lingered on the silken skin of her bare shoulders for a moment too long and she looked up at him with a touch of sadness and longing in her eyes.
“I’ll get our drinks from the bartender, don’t move, I’ll be right back,” he said and she could tell he was reluctant to leave her alone in the middle of the raucous Bourbon Street party crowd.
Allie felt out of place when he left her alone in the oppressive gloom with all the boisterously happy drunks. A few were middle-aged couples wearing NOLA T-shirts and fanny-packs but the majority were her age, fresh out of college and in love with life. How had her emotional life gotten so out of hand in the short span of half a summer? She hadn’t come to this city hoping for romantic love but once she’d found it she knew she would never be the same innocent girl she was before. Wasn’t that what all those Gothic romance writers were trying to say with their flowery words and plot twists and pages of endless promises of “I love you!”?” Weren’t they trying to warn the unsuspecting that love changes the beloved just as it changes everything and not for the better? It breaks hearts and people and only mends and brings joy to a few of the very lucky and perhaps to those who can’t tell the difference between real love or simply the notion of it. Oh my God! Allie thought. She was not yet twenty-two and already cynical after her first love affair.
“Okay, so this is it, the infamous Sazerac cocktail. It used to be made with pure absinthe so it was served in a clear glass to show off the bright green color of the liquor. Now it’s made with whiskey but it can still knock you on your ass.” Brodie’s smile was wide and genuine as he edged into the seat next to Allie balancing two highball glasses filled with amber liquid. “I know it looks like a giant tequila shot but it isn’t— far from it. You have to sip it and try and hold onto your good judgment, Allie. Cheers!”
They clinked their glasses together and Allie did as Brodie instructed, sipping the strange drink that was some sort of concoction that had once been made with the potent hallucinogenic absinthe. Now it was made with rye whiskey but as tradition demanded it was still served in a clear cocktail glass without ice. It was odd tasting and wickedly potent as she learned soon enough.
“Hmm, weird tasting drink but it has me feeling better than I’ve felt in a while. Can we dance in here?” Allie asked as the alcohol loosened her brain and her body. It melted her cares away and left her tingling all the way to the tips of her toes.
“We can do whatever we want, but let me go to the bar and get two more of these,” Brodie yelled, hoping she could hear him as the bar filled up with a gaggle of fraternity boys who had obviously just reached the legal drinking age.
“Sounds good, I’ll wait here and guard the table,” Allie said and she felt buzzy and buoyant and ohhhhhhh sooooooo good as the whiskey worked its magic. Mmm, she felt like she could take on the world as she closed her eyes and for the very first time she didn’t see an image of William’s impossibly gorgeous face staring back at her.
Her chair suddenly tilted backwards slightly and she couldn’t stop herself from giggling as her eyes flew open. Hmm, isn’t it interesting to run into him? Her addled brain registered the fact without alarm and with a warm rush of familiarity.
Walden leaned in so close that Allie could almost count the dazzling flecks of green and gold scattered in his dark irises. His smell and his beauty filled her senses and every other person in the room seemed far, far away as his hand stroked her hair and he lifted her glass to his lips and finished the drink in a single swallow.
“Do you want to dance Alaina? I’ll court you if that’s what you need and desire, I’ll play whatever game you like. Or do you want me to take you out of here and save you from that boy you came in with? I can see it in your eyes just like before, the thrill, the question— “should I or shouldn’t I?” Why fight it, Alaina?” He whispered close, so very close that his hot lips brushed her skin, his voice was low and deep and his words were dark and commanding. “I’m a man and you’re a woman, it’s the nature of love and attraction. Can you honestly say you’re not interested to know how indecently hot it would be to make love to me, to the other Warfield brother? With the man who truly loves you, Alaina.”
END
THANK YOU FOR READING!
Please leave your reviews in the Kindle store.
BILLIONAIRE SEASON 3: SUMMER ABLAZE
The FINAL book of the BILLIONAIRE SEASON trilogy, coming December 2014
www.KimballLee.com
www.facebook.com/KimballLeeAuthor
www.twitter.com/KimballLee1
