“You son of a bitch,” Brigid said, crossing her arms over her bra.
“I'm in love with her,” he said, the alcohol making his tongue loose. He didn't know if he would have admitted it out loud, otherwise. But when he said it, it felt right.
“What?” Brigid whispered.
“I'm in love with her,” he repeated, his voice stronger this time. The beer haze around his mind was starting to clear, and for the first time in months, his anger was dissipating as well.
“Goddammit,” Brigid cursed, disappearing back in the bedroom. He didn't follow her, just watched as she pulled back on her shirt and grabbed her purse off the floor beside the bed. “Why did you even start something with me?!” she yelled, stomping back into the living room. “I though this was going somewhere. I thought we were going to be something.” She shook her head, her whole body trembling.
“Me, too,” he said, his voice low. “But we're not going to be.”
“No, I guess not.” She turned and went to the door, throwing it open. “Fuck you, O'Donovan.” Then she slammed it shut so hard the walls shook. With a sigh, O'Donovan went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He pulled out a beer, and cracked it open. He felt like shit for hurting Brigid, but he couldn't think about that right now. All he could think about was how the fuck he was going to get his girl back, in the quickest and most painless way possible.
Chapter 18
Toni rolled her suitcase down to the street early the next morning, took a deep breath, and held up her arm to hail a cab. She almost had a minor panic attack as she slid into the backseat, but she pushed past it, and got in. She clicked her seatbelt immediately and then sat back against the vinyl seat, willing herself to relax. She made it to the airport with no incident, although her hands ached from clenching them tight in her lap. As she climbed out at her airline terminal, she felt good. She felt like she'd accomplished something, even if it was something as small as riding in a cab. She said goodbye to Abdul, the cabdriver, and went on her way, like a normal person. It was time for her to stop being afraid, she decided. It was time to take control of her life.
Her flight landed in New Orleans on time, and her mother Marietta was waiting for her out in front of the airport, arms outstretched.
“My baby,” she said, as Toni stepped into her embrace. “My baby girl, I love you so much.”
“Love you too, mommy,” Toni said, patting her mother's back, and breathing her in, as she pressed kisses to Toni's cheek. Marietta always smelled the same, like big floral bouquets that were slowly rotting. She'd been wearing the same expensive perfume for Toni's whole life, and it reminded Toni of home – lovely on the outside, slightly unseemly on the inside, and quickly tiring when exposed to it for too long.
“Alright, let's get going. I still have to stop at the store and get something for dinner. What sounds good?”
“Whatever you want,” Toni said, already sweating as she followed her mother to her little white BMW coupe. Despite the sweltering Louisiana heat, Marietta St. James never left the house not dressed to the nines. That day, she was wearing a flowing sundress with a matching scarf tied around her neck and heeled sandals. She believed in always looking good for her husband, and always having dinner on the table for him when he came home from work. Ever since she'd gotten 'born again' in Toni's youth, she believed in being a 'helpmeet', which was a concept Toni still had yet to grasp. But most of all, she was a southern woman, and believed in always being polite and god-fearing. To say that Toni and her mother didn't always get along was an understatement.
They zipped through the city, the air-conditioning in the car the only relief from the sticky heat outside. They chatted politely about New York and how Nat's pregnancy was coming along. Toni was grateful she didn't bring up O'Donovan. She figured Nat had told their mother it was a subject to avoid. After a quick grocery store stop, they ended up at her parent's condo in the French Quarter, in a lovely old two story building with a courtyard that had been completely renovated. Toni planted herself on a stool at the counter, watching her mother start cooking, cutting up the onions and the peppers for the red beans and rice. She watched how her hands moved efficiently, slicing and chopping.
“Antoinette Louise, can you get me the butter?” her mother said. Toni had long since given up on begging her mother to use olive oil in lieu of butter, and slid off her stool to fetch it.
“I'm going to Granny's after dinner,” Toni said, getting the ceramic butter dish from the side door of the refrigerator.
“You can stay here, you know. The couch pulls out.”
“That couch is lumpy,” Toni said, setting the dish on the counter and leaning over her mother's shoulder, watching how she scooped the seeds out of the center of a jalapeno with a spoon.
“I don't like you imposing on your grandmother. She's old and doesn't like her routine interrupted.”
“She loves to have her routine interrupted,” Toni argued. “Are we talking about the same woman?”
“She's very set in her ways,” Marietta continued, as if Toni hadn't said anything. “Although, she's had to cancel Sunday dinner the last two weeks because she didn't feel up to cooking.”
“Is she okay?” Toni asked, shuddering as her mother dumped four heaping spoonfuls of butter in the cast iron skillet on the stove.
“As far as I know. I took her to the doctor about a month ago, and everything was right as rain.”
“Good,” Toni said, her thoughts drifting. The onions and peppers sizzled in the butter, and Toni watched them, wondering why she had to be such a brat about some things. Why did she have to be so adamant against learning to cook? She never had time to cook, but that was besides the point. She could have at least tried. After all, if she cooked for O'Donovan, at least he'd eat healthy. The thought put a smile on her lips, as she remembered the eggs he fed her, cooked with bacon fat. His diet was terrible, and she still worried about him, despite everything. But she was over him, she reminded herself. Seeing him with another woman had killed her love for him stone-dead.
“A penny for your thoughts,” her mother said, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon.
“Just thinking about work,” Toni murmured, lying easily. Her mother slid an arm around her shoulders.
“I would love for you to come back down here with your mommy and daddy,” she said, squeezing Toni tight. “We miss you girls so much.”
“We'll see,” Toni said, knowing it wasn't going to happen, but feeling guilty nonetheless. She missed her parents often, but the thought of being back under their thumb was not appealing to her. When she came home, she always felt like a child again, and she didn't like it. She was turning over a new leaf, besides. Toni St. James was going to start taking care of herself, even if it killed her.
After a pleasant dinner with her parents, where her mother fretted over Toni and her father like they were invalids who couldn't take care of themselves, Toni's father drove her out into the country to her grandmother's farmhouse, off the beaten path in the middle of nowhere. She didn't know how the house was still standing, it was so old and broken down. The porch sagged. The white paint peeled. The roof had a blue tarp over it, secured with bricks, to keep the rain out.
“She won't let me call out the contractor to fix that damn roof,” her father Rodrick said, shaking his head as they drove up the gravel driveway to the house, which loomed like a ghost in the dusky early-evening light. “I'm about ready to call in the brigade and force her to stay with us for a month.”
“You should,” Toni said, glancing out the window. Nat had offered their grandmother help as well, and it was always refused.
“Mama!” Rodrick called out as he pushed open the front door. The TV was on in the living room, as were all the lights.
“In here, sonny,” Toni heard her grandmother call from the kitchen. Toni left her suitcase in the front room, hurrying into the kitchen. Her grandmother's eyes lit up as she saw her. “What is all this?” Granny exclaimed, her soft face crink
ling into a smile. Toni enveloped her grandmother in a big hug, feeling a burst of real happiness for the first time in a long while.
“Don't you remember? I'm here to visit for a couple of days,” Toni said, pulling away and glancing into the pot on the stove. String beans boiled with a ham-hock, and she could smell barbeque chicken in the air.
“If it's trouble, Mama, she can stay with us,” Rodrick said, glancing into the oven, sniffing out the chicken as well.
“No trouble, no trouble,” Granny said, glancing heavenward for a moment. “Now you get out of there. Acting like you ain't eat all day,” she continued, waving her son away from chicken he'd discovered.
“I can't have a piece for the road?” Rodrick asked, lifting up the foil on the pan.
“I suppose so,” Granny said with a chuckle. “Take one of those breasts, I guess.”
“If you say so, Mama,” Rodrick said, flashing a wink and a smile at Toni. She rolled her eyes at her father. She didn't know how he could possibly be hungry, after her mother had forced them to finish all the food on their plates at dinner, and then insisted on dessert.
“I'm going to put my stuff upstairs, okay, Granny?” Toni said.
“Oh. Well, okay. You do that,” Granny said, eyes on the boiling beans as she stirred them. Toni grabbed her suitcase and dragged it up the creaky staircase. She rolled it down the threadbare carpet in the hallway, stopping at her father's old bedroom, where she often stayed. She turned the doorknob, opened the door, and almost screamed.
Her cousin Vivica jolted up on the twin bed, putting a quick finger to her lips.
“Shhhh,” she hissed. “Close the door,” she whispered. Toni followed the instruction, shocked. She hadn't seen her cousin in years, and Granny's farm house in the middle of nowhere was the last place she expected to see her. Vivica threw her long legs over the side of the bed, staring at Toni. Her hair was wild as ever, dyed a faded tawny blonde, with dark highlights. Otherwise, she looked almost exactly the same as the last time she'd seen her, whenever that was. Toni couldn't even remember. It had to have been when she was a teenager, she realized. What a trip.
“What are you doing here?!” Toni stage-whispered, plopping next to her on the bed. She realized her cousin was wearing an odd outfit—a baggy pair of their grandpa's old overalls and a tube-top. But on her, it looked like high fashion.
“I'm hiding out. You?” Vivica said, with a small smile.
“The same, I guess,” Toni said. “How long have you been here?”
“A few weeks.”
“Hey, Toni!” They were interrupted as Rodrick called up the stairs.
“Yeah, Daddy?” Toni yelled back, glancing at Vivica.
“I'm going, come say goodbye.”
“Alright.” Toni stood, and Vivica grabbed her arm.
“Don't tell him I'm here. Please.”
“I won't,” Toni said, giving her cousin a reassuring smile as she pulled the door closed behind her. Well, things just got a whole hell of a lot more interesting, Toni thought, as she hurried back down the stairs. Her brain was buzzing, and for the first time in a long time, Sebastian O'Donovan was not at the center of the storm. He was barely a blip on her radar.
Take that, O'Donovan, you jerk!
***
O'Donovan knew it was time for drastic action. He'd rung up to her apartment building on 100th, and she didn't answer. She also wasn't answering his calls. So he did the only other thing he could think of. With a defeated sigh, he dragged his ass up the stoop of the townhouse and knocked on the big door. The lights were on, so he knew someone was home. He ran a hand through his hair, waiting and wondering who he was going to see on the other side.
“Well, it's about damn time,” Christophe Van der Kind said as he swung open the door. O'Donovan groaned inwardly at Van der Kind's carefree smile. He was dressed like he'd just come home from the office, his tie loose around the neck of his starched white shirt. “Come in,” Van der Kind said, motioning him in. O'Donovan nodded, following him into the warmth of the townhouse.
“You want a drink?” Van der Kind asked, pointing to the kitchen. “Annie is late at work, so it's just us. Lucky for you. I don't know if Annie is looking too kindly on you these days,” he said with a laugh.
“I fucked up. I can admit that,” O'Donovan said with a shrug. He had no ego left, he realized. His sole goal in life was to patch things up with Toni, and he would get down on his knees if he had to.
“You don't have to explain to me,” Van der Kind said, strolling into the kitchen and getting two glasses out of the cabinet.
“I know that,” O'Donovan said, leaning on the counter, not able to stop himself from glancing in the room off the kitchen, remembering all the filthy and unforgettable things he'd done to Toni in there, on the expensive leather couch. He licked his lips, remembering how good she tasted. He was going to get her back, goddammit. There was no other option, as far as he was concerned.
Van der Kind slid a drink across the counter and O'Donovan took a swig of the smooth, smokey whiskey.
“Good, right?” Van der Kind said. O'Donovan nodded, the liquid warming his throat.
“I don't want to know how much it fucking costs,” O'Donovan said. Van der Kind threw his head back and laughed.
“I won't bore you with the details,” he said.
“I appreciate that,” O'Donovan said, tossing back the rest of the whiskey, savoring the taste. Jameson was his drink of choice, but damn if the expensive shit didn't taste real good.
“Alright, so I promised Toni once I would say this to you, so I'm going to say it,” Van der Kind said. “You ready?”
“Lay it on me.”
“You're a motherfucking jackass if you don't see how awesome she is,” he said, finishing with a curt nod.
“Is that it?”
“Yeah. That's it.”
“Well, I can't say I disagree,” O'Donovan said, setting his empty glass on the marble countertop. Van der Kind immediately refilled it, and O'Donovan knocked it back just as quickly.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“I don't know,” O'Donovan said with a chuckle although the situation wasn't funny in the least.
“Not that it's any of my business, but if you want to talk about it—” Van der Kind held up his hands nonchalantly. “I'm currently available.”
“I don't want to talk about it.”
“Fair enough,” he took another drink of the smooth whiskey.
“I dumped her for someone else,” O'Donovan blurted out, surprising himself.
“Are you crazy?” Van der Kind asked, his drink paused in mid-air. “You don't leave a St. James woman for someone else. They leave you, if you're unlucky enough to piss them off.”
“I'm just now figuring that out, but thanks for the advice.”
“I spent seven years chasing Annie. Seven long, long years,” Van der Kind said, gazing off into the living room, a distant look on his face. “I always thought I was a catch, right? Rich, good-looking, good in the sack. But to her, all of that didn't mean shit. To her, that was just a reason to get as far away from me as possible.”
“Okay, here's the fucking thing,” O'Donovan leaned forward. “You guys spoil the shit out of Toni, and I can't fucking stand it. Why does she give Toni everything if she had to work for everything?”
“Because Toni is different. She's not hard like Annie.”
“She's sweet as pie and diplomatic as hell,” O'Donovan offered. God, he loved that about her. “I told her she should be a politician,” O'Donovan said, laughing at the memory.
“Right,” Van der Kind said, giving him a knowing look. “She makes it easy to spoil her. And it makes my wife happy when she's happy, so win-win.” Van der Kind dropped his eyes to his glass. “I know that Toni's accident really shook Annie up. Annie's kept Toni close ever since.”
O'Donovan nodded, flashes of memories of the accident replaying again in his mind. The thought of how close Toni had come to de
ath made his chest hurt. He didn't like to think about what would have happened if he hadn't found her, or if he hadn't gotten there in time... he shook his head, trying to getting rid of the pointless thoughts.
“The thing is my ex-wife is a real piece of work,” O'Donovan said, changing the subject and reaching for the whiskey. “She was born rich and expects everyone to give her everything. I can't deal with that shit again.”
“Toni's not like that,” Van der Kind said.
“No, she's not,” O'Donovan said, taking another deep drink.
“If it makes you feel better, that apartment we gave her was a really good deal,” Van der Kind said.
“How the fuck am I supposed to pretend you didn't give her an apartment, mate?” O'Donovan said. “How do I not have to unzip my nuts and leave my balls outside the door every time I go over there?”
“Fuck if I know,” Van der Kind laughed. “But if it makes you feel any better, this is Annie's house. I moved in after she'd already bought it. It still feels like my home though, because I have everything I want and need inside.”
“Hmm.” O'Donovan murmured, draining another glass of the whiskey.
“So you love her?” Van der Kind said, his voice low.
“I do,” O'Donovan said.
“Good. I'd hate to have to beat your ass,” Van der Kind said with another big laugh.
“Yeah, I'd pay to see that,” O'Donovan scoffed.
“I like you,” Van der Kind said after a minute. “You put a big-ass dent in my ten thousand dollar bottle of whiskey, but I like you.”
“How much?” O'Donovan said.
“Ten thousand, but that's beside the point,” Van der Kind said, like it was nothing, even though he was the one that brought it up.
“I'm Irish. I can drink your ass under the table, any fucking day.”
“I'm going to take you up on that,” he said with a smile. “You hungry? I can order something.” Van der Kind opened the drawer with the takeout menus.
Kiss of Fire (St. James Family) Page 21
