Valley of Fire (Valley of the Moon Book 2)

by Bronwyn Archer

  “I like that perfume,” he said. “Is it new?”

  “Yeah, you bought it. You bought me new shoes, too.”

  “Let’s see what I paid for.”

  I held up my leg so he could admire my new heels. He caught my foot by the ankle and examined the shoes. He nodded. “Very nice.” He set my leg down. As he did, his hand accidentally slid a few inches up my calf.

  “Cold?” Alexander asked.

  “No,” I lied.

  “Just keep the jacket on,” he said sternly. “It’s on the next block,” he told the driver.

  Out of nowhere, Alexander smacked his forehead. “Oops, almost forgot something.”

  Forgot about the bikini models he had lined up for when his penance was over? Forgot he had no interest in hanging out with a recent high school graduate?

  He pulled a tiny box out of his coat pocket and handed it to me. “Happy birthday. This you can’t put on my tab.” He dropped it into my hand. I tore open the gold wrapping paper. Inside the tiny box a pair of earrings were nestled in soft white velvet. Each stud was a hot pink jewel surrounded by tiny pave diamonds, set in rose gold.

  “Wow. These are gorgeous, thank you!”

  “They’re pink tourmaline. You have pierced ears, right?”

  I nodded and quickly pressed the studs into my earlobes. “How do they look?”

  His eyes glowed in the dark cab. “Perfect.”

  It was now or never. I hadn’t given him his birthday present in the restaurant because I’d lost my nerve. I opened my clutch and pulled out a small black leather box.

  “Happy birthday to you, too.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

  “You bought them, so you don’t need to get too excited.”

  He lifted the lid and a huge grin spread across his face.

  I’d found the silver cufflinks in an antique store around the corner from the boutique. Each cufflink featured a tiny reproduction of an old-fashioned map of the moon under glass. You could just read some of the amazing Latin names of its seas and lakes.

  My favorite was Lacus Mortis.

  Lake of Death.

  “I can return them if you don’t wear cufflinks.”

  “No way, I love them. How did you know I have a bunch of shirts at home with French cuffs?” He grabbed my hand. “Lana, thank you.” The cab lurched to a stop at the curb.

  “Hea y’ah. French Qwatah, have fun,” the driver said in his thick accent. I clambered out of the cab and wobbled a little in my heels.

  He put his arm around my waist to steady me. “Feel like checking out one of the jazz bars down here? It’s still early. We can sleep in before we hit the road tomorrow.”

  There would be plenty of eligible guys at the bars in the French Quarter—all I had to do was stop acting like I was in love with Alexander.

  I pried his arm off my waist. “Let’s do it.”

  He raised his arms in the air and took a half step away from me. “Sorry.”

  I tried to explain. “No, it’s just, I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about us.”

  He shoved his hands into his back pockets. “Same. Don’t worry, I won’t cramp your style.”

  #

  We stopped in front of a bar with a small line outside the door. Loud jazz music wafted into the street. A surly bouncer was perched on a stool outside the entrance checking IDs. He had a long, braided goatee and wore a black leather vest festooned with pins from Disney World.

  “I don’t have ID.”

  Alexander winked at me. “I’ll take care of it.”

  He walked up to the bouncer and said something to him in a low voice. The bouncer listened with a vicious scowl on his face, then examined my face with beady black eyes like he was counting every freckle. Without another word, he swung his head towards the doorway behind him. Alexander gestured to me and I followed him into the noisy bar.

  “What did you say to him?” I marveled as he headed for an empty spot at the long bar.

  “I told him I was planning to propose to you inside and your wallet got stolen.” I marveled at this. I wanted to run back to the bouncer and ask him if he really believed a guy like Alexander would propose to me.

  Maybe someone who loved Disney that much still believed in fairy tales.

  A raucous jazz band played on a small stage across from the bar. Between the bar and the stage were a few dozen tables packed with people. Long picnic-bench style tables lined the sides of the cavernous space. It was dark, smoky, and loud and I almost immediately regretted agreeing to come. At the bar, Alexander made eye contact with the bartender. She sidled over to him with a look on her face I had seen more than once on our trip.

  She wore her black hair piled on top of her head in a wild bun and had heavy black eye makeup and tattoos running down both arms. Her aggressively large breasts were on full display in her tight black tank top. She was at least in her mid 30s, I guessed. I sighed, disgusted with both of them already. “What can I get you?” she purred.

  “Bourbon please.”

  “And little sister?”

  He laughed. “Oh, she’s good.” Actually, I wasn’t good.

  “I’d like some bourbon too, please,” I shot back.

  “Water for my sister,” Alexander told her.

  She winked. “Be right back.”

  I glared at him. “Oh, now I can’t have bourbon? But you can?”

  He put his fingers to his mouth to shush me. “Lana, technically you’re not old enough to be in here.”

  I scowled and folded my arms across my chest. So much for our date night. When she set Alexander’s bourbon down in front of him, she put her elbows on the bar and looked up at him. I sighed loudly.

  “Where are y’all from?”

  “California,” Alexander answered.

  “Oh?” she purred. “I used to live in San Francisco. On the Haight.”

  Alexander laughed. “I used to buy weed there in high school,” he said.

  She giggled at him like she was twelve. She launched into a story about her ex-boyfriend who was in a band. I tuned her out and watched Alexander watching her. It was the first time I’d seen him really converse with another woman. No wonder he had to go on a year-long break from girls—they liked him way too much.

  In other words, they were exactly like me.

  To my annoyance, he laughed and nodded along to her inane story.

  I wondered what my life would be like if I had that effect on random guys.

  Maybe it was time to encounter some.

  Starting immediately.

  I spun around on my barstool to survey the crowd. A table against the wall near the back of the club caught my eye. There were four boys at the table and it looked like at least two of them were around my age. There were about a dozen mugs of beer on their table. Guys one and two were beefy and wore white Tulane baseball caps backwards on their heads.

  The third was talking to a cocktail waitress.

  The fourth was cute. He was watching the band. I narrowed my eyes to get a better look.

  Very cute.

  He caught me staring at him and smiled.

  I spun back around so fast I almost flew off the stool. Alexander was busy telling the bartender about the time he got a ticket when he was sixteen for peeing in Golden Gate park. The bartender laughed way too hard.

  I’d already heard that story on the drive to Little Rock.

  I shook my head in disgust. I tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m going to the bathroom.”

  Alexander barely looked at me. “Okay, just come right back.” Shaking with anger—or jealousy—I grabbed my clutch and slid off the stool. I pulled my jacket off as casually as I could and folded it over my arm. I stopped a waitress and asked her where the bathroom was. She pointed to a door near the back of the bar.

  Right next to the table with the cute guy.

  I tugged the skirt of my dress down and threw my shoulders back. I picked my way through the crowd and
managed to make it to the bathroom without wobbling. I didn’t even glance at the four guys as I approached their table. As I got close, one of the beefy ones yelled, “Hey! Wanna sit down?” The very cute one didn’t say anything. He had bright blue eyes and a friendly smile.

  In the bathroom, I reapplied my lip gloss, wiped a little smudged eyeliner, and ran a hand through my hair to fluff it up a little.

  Alexander was not the only one capable of flirting with people.

  Full of renewed confidence, I left and slowed down as I passed their table.

  “She’s back!” the cute one said. He elbowed his beefy friend on the end, who saw me and hoisted himself out of the padded bench seat with some difficulty. The cute one patted the spot next to him. “Come join us.”

  There was a giant depression in the seat cushion where his friend’s rear end had been.

  I hesitated for a second, then I took a quick look at the bar.

  Alexander had disappeared.

  I scooted in next to the cute guy.

  The beefy one sat back down, sealing my escape route. If my attempt at making new friends backfired, I’d be stuck, hemmed in by a solid wall of well-fed Louisiana bro.

  The cute one handed me a full glass of beer. “What’s your name?” he asked in a slow Southern drawl.

  “Lana.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Lana.” When he said it, he drew out the vowels. “You go to school here?” I took a sip of beer.

  “Nope, just visiting.”

  “You with friends?” I nodded.

  One of the beefy twins chimed in, “I’d like to meet your friends. They here too?” I tried to come up with a reason why he didn’t want to meet my friends.

  “Lana’s not your matchmaker, Brandon.” He pointed at each guy at the table as he said their names. “This is Brandon and that’s his brother Toby. Ed’s the one across from me talking to that girl who’s out of his league, and I’m Jesse.”

  “Nice to meet you.” The band on the tiny stage started playing a new song that sounded exactly like their last song, only ten times louder. I took another sip of beer and snuck a peek at the bar. Alexander had disappeared, and I didn’t see the flirty bartender either. I tried not to imagine where they were.

  “Something wrong, Lana?” Jesse asked. He was pressed in tight next to me and his body was turned towards me. He had sandy blonde hair and a wide, charming smile.

  “Nope, having a great time. Much better than before.”

  Jesse snaked an arm around my waist and tugged me closer to him. “See? I told you we were nice. Where you from?”

  “California.” His hand was sitting on my hip where it touched the banquette’s leather seat. I nervously reached my hands under the table and smoothed my dress over my thighs.

  Jesse grinned. “I thought you looked like a movie star.” He leaned closer and said, “I love girls with short hair.” His face was just a few inches from my neck and I smelled the beer on his breath. I looked over at the bar again. Alexander had returned. This time he was turned around on his stool, glaring at me, his face like stone.

  I turned to Jesse and flashed a huge smile. “Thanks, I just cut it.”

  Jesse took a swig from his own glass. “Hey, Lana, some of our brothers are throwing a party tonight. You should invite your friends to come, too.” Jesse’s fingers grazed the hem of my dress at my thigh. I froze. I wanted him to stop, but I refused to run back to Alexander.

  I pushed his hand away under the table. “Yeah, maybe.”

  He leaned in very close to me and I got hit with a hot blast of beer-stoked breath. “Cool. But before we go, there’s something I need to do, so none of them try it.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I have to whisper it.”

  I bent my head to his and the next thing I knew, his tongue was in my mouth. I tried pushing him away but his chest was solid muscle. I finally yanked my head free and he laughed.

  “I changed my mind.” I grabbed my clutch and my jacket. “Excuse me,” I said to Brandon. He didn’t budge. “Tell your friend to move so I can get out,” I snapped. I waited for Brandon to unwedge himself.

  “Don’t get up, Brandon,” Jesse ordered. “Lana is fine.”

  Seriously? “Brandon, get up!” I said, a little louder. I banged on Brandon’s sweaty back to no avail.

  “Uh oh, you’re in trouble now, dude!” one of the other guys said.

  They all burst into drunken laughter.

  “You heard her, Brandon. Move your lard ass and let her out or I’ll do it for you.”

  Alexander stood at the edge of the table shooting a death glare at Brandon. The laughter died and the boys swiveled around to stare at him.

  “Why don’t you fuck off, bro?” Jesse said.

  Panic bloomed in my chest. This was not going to end well.

  “Just let me out, guys,” I pleaded. People at neighboring tables craned their necks to get a better view. Alexander quietly stared down at Jesse. I tried sliding under the table to escape but Jesse blocked me with his leg.

  “Lana, you stay. Fuck this guy,” Jesse said.

  Alexander said, “Don’t make me embarrass you in front of your friends. You’ve got three seconds. One. Two.”

  Muscley action exploded next to me. Brandon bolted from the bench and I was shoved to the floor, where I landed hard on one knee. Chairs went screeching across the floor as Ed and Toby jumped up. A full pint glass of beer got knocked over, rolled off the table, and smashed to the ground. People started to back away from our table.

  Brandon and Jesse were in Alexander’s face, yelling and cursing, but he just stood his ground. Jesse took the first swing. A second later, Jesse was on his knees, his hands clutching his face and bright red blood pouring through his fingers. Some girls screamed and ran towards the exit.

  “Who’s next?” Alexander called out calmly. Jesse’s three friends were going crazy, screaming and yelling every curse word I’d ever heard and some I hadn’t. They made a semi-circle around Alexander. He eyeballed them with a confident smirk on his face. “Grab his arms!” Brandon shouted.

  “Alexander, RUN!” I screamed.

  To my absolute amazement, Alexander caught my eye and winked at me.

  Two of the guys went for his arms. A split second later, Ed was on his knees holding his nose, and Toby was doubled over clutching his stomach, moaning. The band’s song screeched to a halt.

  Brandon was the last man standing. He positioned himself so we’d have to go through him to get out of the bar.

  Alexander wiped his palms on his jeans and smiled. “Come on, big boy. Don’t be shy.” Brandon had his fists up but didn’t make a move. “If you’re not gonna try and hit me, get the fuck away from us,” he snarled. He elbowed Brandon in the side and he toppled over like a felled tree, landing on a table that broke under his weight. “Lana, let’s go!” I staggered to my feet and scrambled over to him. He had a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, but there was no other evidence he’d singlehandedly laid out four guys. We sped towards the front door as the bar erupted into pandemonium.

  He stopped and called to the bartender he’d been talking to.

  “Fiona! Here!” He held his hand up in the air like he wanted to catch something.

  She tossed something gold through the air and he caught it.

  “Sorry about the mess!” he yelled. He hustled me to the door. Just before we got there, the bearded bouncer rushed in.

  He stopped short when he saw us. Then, something behind us caught his eye and he yelled, “Look out!”

  We turned just in time to see Brandon running towards us with a giant glass beer stein in his hand.

  “Lana, duck!”

  I whipped my head to my knees. There was a massive CRACK as the glass exploded on the wall behind us. Beer and bits of glass shot out in all directions. Something hard smacked me in the mouth. I reached up to touch my bottom lip and warm wetness dripped onto my fingers.

  The bouncer stared at us, reco
gnizing us from earlier. “She said yes!” Alexander shouted. Then he hustled me through the doorway and out to the street, where we started running again. At the corner, we stopped and I tried to catch my breath.

  “Jesus, Lana! What do you think you were doing in there?”

  I pressed my hand to my lip. “Trying to have fun!”

  He looked hurt. “We were having fun!”

  “You were! So much for your so-called ‘penance’ What a joke!” I knew I sounded jealous and petulant but I didn’t care.

  He waved a cab down. “Is it my fault the bartender was chatty?”

  The cab pulled up, but I was filled with indignant rage. Then I realized he’d beaten up four guys for me. I opened my mouth to thank him for doing that when he grabbed me by the forearm and pushed me towards the cab.

  “Get your hands off me!” I tried to pull my arm away.

  Footsteps banged behind us. Someone shouted, “There they are!”

  Alexander barked, “GET IN!”

  He dove in next to me and pulled the door closed just in time. Ed and Toby pounded the trunk of the cab as it screeched away.

  The driver cursed and shook his fist at them. I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth. My lower lip throbbed.

  “You need to get better at picking boyfriends,” he said. Tears burned in my eyes. He reached up, pulled my hand away from my mouth, and gasped.

  “You got hit?” His brow furrowed and the anger in his face drained away. The back of my hand was covered in blood.

  I shook my head. “I ducked my head and something hit me in the mouth.”

  He ran his fingers into his hair. “I think I have your teeth marks in my skull. We must have bashed skulls when we ducked.”

  Blood trickled down my chin. He pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket and blotted my lip. “Ow!” I yelped.

  “Hold this on your lip. Press hard.”

  The cab stopped in front of our hotel. Alexander helped me out.

  For once I let him.