by A. J. Sand
“I wish you could’ve been there,” she admitted.
“I really, really wanted to be. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I was completely in a daze today, and I guess in a way, over time I kind of retrained myself to not call. But I’m really proud of you. I was planning to surprise you and show up without you knowing I was there for a while. I didn’t want to be a distraction…I just wanted to see you in your element. Is that weird to say?
“I remember when you first started working for Kai, you guys would have those weird morning bathroom pep talks on speakerphone, and it always sounded like he was ready to just quit and move back to Oahu. You never got frustrated with him. You’d just listen and let him get it all out. And then always tell him some joke that really wasn’t funny—”
Erica gasped, taking feigned offense. “Is this payback for me making fun of your dancing? My jokes were funny!”
“They weren’t…which was what was always so funny about it. I’d just be standing at the door, laughing quietly and just thinking about how…” Bryson trailed off into a deep breath.
“How what?”
“How lucky I was… to know someone like you,” he whispered. The warmth that usually preceded tears spread across her lower lashes. She’d always known he was out there the whole time. I was lucky, too.
“Will you come next time?” she asked.
“I’ll be the first one in there. Promise. So, were you gonna wait for Dylan?”
“No, she wanted to come, but Abel and I told her not to. I figured Wes would be here and he would give me a ride.”
“I can take you home,” he said, pushing off the wall, and he led the way down the hall toward the parking lot elevators. She was unprepared for the weight of her disappointment when he pulled up to her apartment building a short while later. When she looked over at him, even in the dark car, she saw the muscles in his face tense and his hands clutch the steering wheel tighter.
“I’ll never get used to dropping you off and driving away.” Yeah, it wasn’t the best feeling in the world. But Bryson quickly aimed a sweet smile at her. “So, Silver Method’s thirty-fifth anniversary black and white party is coming up in a few weeks, and I want you to come. It should be fun. All the artists, new and old, are coming and some are performing. Maybe after it, we’ll finally get to catch up. Really.”
“Okay, I’ll be there,” Erica said as she swung the passenger door open and shimmied out of his jacket. She leaned over and expected to peck a kiss on his cheek, but Bryson hadn’t turned his head back to face the windshield. And he didn’t look like he planned to.
He wanted to kiss her.
He unfastened his seatbelt and leaned over, his mouth immediately seizing hers. Erica grabbed the back of his head, and his hands gripped her waist with a ferocity that nearly pulled her into his lap. The warmth of his mouth drew her into the pool of him that often submerged her. His groans were soft but strengthening as her tongue stroked his. His tongue glided over the sides of hers and skimmed along the inside of her bottom lip, as Erica fisted the front of his shirt so tightly her hand hurt. This was a good hurt, though, signaling this reciprocal desire between them.
He pulled back just slightly and drew his thumb along her top lip, keeping them parted. Eyes glued to hers, he yanked his fingers down her chin, neck and chest. She shut her eyes when he traced the curves of each of her lips with both of his, never fully kissing her. It was like he was trying to re-learn the details of her mouth and imprint the shape of them onto his. She vised his shirt tighter; the waiting was torturous as they exchanged breaths. One of his hands slipped up the hem of her tunic and cupped her butt to draw her even closer. Then his tongue was back between her lips, and their mouths smashed and twisted and connected once more. Bryson grunted when her fingers tugged the hairs at the nape of his neck, and she moaned as he drove kisses deep into her shoulder, skimming the skin with his teeth.
They pulled completely apart for a moment, both breathing faster than normal, taking each other in with expressions torn between yearning and amusement. The windows had started fogging. Like old times.
“Damn, I don’t want to leave you tonight…” He squeezed her inner thigh. Her leg was hooked in a dangerous curl around the gearshift, and he was balancing his weight on his arm on the inner part of her chair. “…I want you to come with me...”
“To your house?”
“No. Come with me to New Orleans tomorrow night.”
Easy – Chapter 9
Bryson was indulging her. Like always. That was the only reason they were in the ever-winding line of people at Café Du Monde in New Orleans’ busy French Market District. Its open-air markets, street musicians and quaint shops had drawn an endless flood of people on the scorcher of a day. This was her first time in The Big Easy, and after only hearing about how amazing beignets were, she knew the only thing she had to do while they were here was visit Café Du Monde.
“Are these really as good as they say?” she asked, leaning back against his chest, and she smiled when Bryson’s arms folded around her waist. She always felt at ease in his arms, and he hadn’t been reluctant to hold her whenever they were near each other since getting here. Bryson’s lips grazed her ear as he nodded. The shivers curled straight down to her toes, but there was lingering heat inside her thighs.
“Everything here is,” he said, and she didn’t doubt that. Any place where music was as present as air had to be magical. Even now, she could hear the distant trill of a live trumpet. “But beignets really top the list.” When a table outside beneath the covered patio suddenly opened up, Bryson reminded her of his order and went quickly to claim it for them.
She still couldn’t believe that she had hopped on the Silver Method jet so last minute, but New Orleans already seemed to be offering renewal between them since leaving sullied L.A. behind. They had been laughing all day as he let her give in to every whim she could think of after checking in to a hotel right on Bourbon Street. They had gone to a museum, taken a ride on a streetcar, gone on a Voodoo Tour, taken a visit to still Hurricane Katrina-ravaged and recovering wards of the city, and before beignets and strolling through the French Market, they had taken a two-hour day cruise on a riverboat called the Creole Lady.
“I’m an L.A. girl for sure, but this city is just so amazing. The food, the music, the people!” she said as she brought the powdered sugar-covered beignets over to the table. She’d already eaten one on the short walk. One and a half. “It sucks that we’re already going back home tomorrow.” But it was a nice respite from the troubles waiting there.
Bryson looked up from his cell when she sat, holding a big smile on her. “You’d want to come back here?”
“Definitely,” she said. His tone had hinted that his question was really an invitation. “I’d love to come back here.”
Bryson squeezed her thigh under the table. “Naomi says hi, by the way.”
“You and my sister are quite the besties these days,” Erica teased before chomping down on a beignet.
“Sort of...” In his pause, his eyes narrowed in an inspective, inquiring way. “So, you really don’t know why Naomi and I are talking? I guess she didn’t tell you, but she hit a roadblock searching for your mom. She really wants her to come to the wedding. Hayden wasn’t having any luck, so she asked me. I hired a guy—”
“A P.I.?” Of course, she knew they did things worth celebrating—like reuniting family members—but the benefits of those activities diminished beneath the knowledge that another one was out there assisting the Bunyans with altering reality.
“Yup. Trail died at the last place of employment she had. She was a cashier at a Ralph’s in El Segundo last year for about eight months—”
“Oh, wow. She had a steady job that long?”
“Yeah, but she was fired for coming in to work drunk and then she disappeared about two, three weeks before my guy tracked her there. We were so close.” A look of disappointment followed a helpless sigh. “He hounded her coworkers for weeks. And nothing.”
Discussing Karen meant delving into a myriad of issues, so outside of Kai, Bryson was really the only person she talked to about her mom. “That’s really sweet of you. I had no idea, but it makes sense why Naomi would be interested. She has a picture of this hideous ‘mother of the bride’ dress in her wedding book. It’s right next to the gown she picked for herself.” She lined the edge of the saucer holding the beignets with her fingers. “Karen had her rare moments of being a good mom, and I let Naomi have the little she could give. She needed her way more than I did. So thank you for trying.”
Bryson shot a compassionate smile at her and grazed the top of her hand with his thumb. “I wasn’t just doing it for her, E… I had started looking on my own before she ever said anything. Since the night we’d decided to…the night with the globe.” He gulped down hard, as though the memory was wedged in his throat. “You were looking and you weren’t having any luck. I knew you’d want to at least tell her about our engagement, but I also knew you’d never ask.”
The last sentence threatened to melt her heart. “You’re right about that…” Karen had gotten evicted shortly after both girls left the house. Erica was bussing tables and sharing a too-small apartment with several other aspiring models. She would send her money for the rent, but eventually, they started coming back. Fearing her mom’s corpse was rotting inside the house, she had gone there only to find the door padlocked and the neighbors confirming that Karen had indeed left.
“So…have you checked the blogs yet?” he asked with a sly smile, diverging from a topic he knew was like a finger in a wound for her. Her mood shifted.
“Music blogs? Nope. Dylan asked me the same question yesterday.”
“Chicken,” he teased.
“Damn straight. Okay, I’m lying. I read a few on the plane. Generally good reviews and a few mixed ones, but I like that, you know. Either way, it gets their name out there. And I saw an email from someone seeking a proposal from me regarding my services, so that’s exciting. This is going to be tough once school starts for real, but I won’t take on more than I can handle.” Erica tore through one of the beignets with her teeth. “So, what are we actually here for? I highly doubt you like powdered doughnuts this much. They’re good, but…”
His eyes got wild as he grinned. “A girl named Holly Murphy.” Bryson spoke her name in a raspy breath as though he were casting some secret spell on the place.
“Singer?” Erica’s nails scraped the empty plate in front of her. She’d just inhaled three beignets without even knowing it.
“Really good singer. Just her and her acoustic guitar. Been scoping her out for a few months now on YouTube. Her song covers have about fifty thousand views.” Bryson smiled at her discontent at the lack of beignets in her plate. “You want one of mine, E?”
“No, I need a ‘Please do not feed the Erica’ sign.” But she took it anyway. “So, this Holly girl. Xcel is interested?”
“No, Silver Method is.” He stared past her, and as with people who had known each other for as long as they had, she knew the devil was in the unsaid. There was something going on with trying to get this girl to sign with his dad’s record company. It was also odd that he was even being a liaison for the label. Not only because it was probably a conflict of interest with Xcel but also because he had tried to distance himself from that Jeff Ellis shadow that seemed to be cast across L.A. “She’s going to be a hard sell tonight, but that’s not all we’re doing. We’re barhopping Bourbon Street later…it’s been a tough few weeks for the two of us and I just want tonight to be fun.”
“I’d like that. Thanks for inviting me.”
“Hey…” Bryson reached across the table and squeezed her hand, his face freezing in seriousness. “…I told you, you never have to say that. No matter what.” His expression broke into a smile almost immediately. “I guess that fourth one got you a little bit.” With a napkin, he brushed powdered sugar off her lips and cheek.
She pretended to be offended. “What the hell, Ellis? You keepin’ score?” Erica giggled.
“Just on how many times you’ve laughed today,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. The entire side of her face warmed when he stroked down from her earlobe to her chin, before holding his palm against her cheek. She’d always loved when he did that.
Erica placed one of her hands on top of his. “What’s the count so far?”
“More than enough.” Bryson smiled and took her hand. “You ready?” He led her out of Café Du Monde, and they strolled within a sluggish mass of people toward the enormous looming arches bookending the farmers and flea markets. With the sky just a few notches above sunset, the temperature had dropped to a comfortable kind of warmth. She could already feel another change in the air, a strange buzz, hinting of a city that really opened its eyes and took its breaths at night. New Orleans was a vampire. And she couldn’t wait to explore it with him. They held hands as they swerved through the throng of people on the way back to Bourbon Street, and Erica didn’t know if they were doing it to facilitate their rapid movement or if it was genuine want on his part, but it was nice, either way.
“Oh, E, this is cool. You have to see it.” He pulled her beneath one of the many wrought iron balconies as a pastel-colored bridal party danced down the street, equipped with large white parasols and handkerchiefs, which they waved in the air, as a lively brass band played a very upbeat, jazzy version of “When the Saints Go Marching In” behind them. For a long time, it had hurt to see other brides, even just looking through Naomi’s ridiculous wedding book brought pangs, but she had learned to manage it to where it was just bittersweet. She and Bryson wouldn’t have danced out on the street with a long line of people behind them, but she would’ve danced with him all night until her feet could no longer hold her up. The what if’s were always what hurt the most.
“What is that?” Erica asked, pulling out her cell to film it, as the group continued down the street.
“A second line parade. Isn’t it cool? Big tradition down here. They supposed to go from the church to the reception.” Bryson’s grin withered to a smaller smile as he tucked strands behind her ear. He was probably envisioning what their wedding day would’ve been like, too.
“You really love this city, don’t you? You haven’t once asked for directions or where anything is. You know it pretty well. I don’t remember you visiting much.”
“I do really like it here but, no, I never visited when we were…” He trailed off into the strange pause that always emerged whenever either of them needed to refer to their relationship, but preferred to avoid stating it directly. Ironically, the blank was like having a bell rung right beside her ear, and it usually churned her insides. “I’ve been coming lately because of Holly. It’s cool to be with someone who’s seeing it for the first time, though.” Bryson took her hand and they were again heading for the hotel. “I’m excited for you to see this place in a few hours. It’s going to be insane.”
“Really? Oh, I can’t wait! Oooh! That place has a mechanical bull. We should go there.” She pointed out the crowded bar as they walked past it.
Bryson looked from her to it and then he leaned in to her ear. “There’s a nightly contest to see who can stay on it the longest.” His breath made her shiver, even in New Orleans heat.
“Oh?” Erica turned her head and they nearly kissed. The taste of him, though only a memory, was still on her lips. And she wanted more. Badly. “You wanna make a wager?”
“Three minutes. I bet you can’t stay on for three minutes.” Bryson raised an eyebrow in a challenge as he held his hand out to her.
Erica shook it. “Bet I can. What’s the wager?”
“I’ve got a few ideas. Deal?” he asked when they stepped through the doors of the hotel.
“Deal.”
As Erica dumped her hastily packed weekender duffel to the bed after her shower nearly an hour later, it occurred to her then that there was only one bed present, and the room wasn’t a full suite. Bryson
hadn’t changed the room at check-in. Maybe there’s a bed in the couch? She wasn’t opposed to sleeping next to him, or even with him for that matter, but things were still uncertain. They were pleasant, but unsettled, and still no time seemed right to have the talk they needed to have. But just for tonight, she wished to be careless; she wanted to pretend.
Erica set aside a pair of skinny jeans and a slim-fitting tank top tunic to wear with her wedges.
“Okay, we’ve got to go,” Bryson said behind her as he stepped out of the bathroom, and she smiled as the scent of his soap filled the room.
“You’re not even dressed yet.” His clothes were sprawled on the bed across from hers.
“I will be in like two minutes! That time frame doesn’t even exist when you’re getting dressed, Erica Anne.”
“Spare me eight more than you,” Erica said as she spun to face him. He started to say more, but his mouth popped shut as his gaze breezed down the length of body. It was a slow, savoring draw over the area flashing beneath her unbelted robe. Bra, stomach, panties, legs. And everywhere his eyes landed lit a small fire under her skin. They moved over her like fingers, like they were peeling away the fabric concealing her nakedness. Undoing a clasp. Pulling down straps. Erica sucked in a breath and held it as the fantasy had her clenching every muscle in her pelvis. The way he watched her was more alluring than the sight of his wet bare chest. And it was a good sight.
“Huh…” he said when he managed to drag his eyes back to hers before he rounded the bed. He walked a path of a large arc, as though he needed to keep his distance for the time being. “Metairie.”
“I didn’t even ask a question,” Erica said, laughing. “We’re going to Metairie?”
“Yup. That’s where Holly lives. And I’m serious about us having to go soon. Time is of the essence.”
“What is she, a comet?”
“You know they’re all like comets for me.” Suddenly, Bryson shed his towel, and she gasped quietly when it fell to the floor. Now it was her turn to stare at all the toned muscles that pulled his skin taut…and his growing hard-on; Erica clenched again. He smirked and reached for his boxers. “What? Nothing you haven’t seen before.”
