Beneath These Shadows

by Meghan March

  Without another word, he rolled to his side, dislodging my hand, and climbed out of bed. He reached for his jeans on the floor and yanked one pant leg on and then the other. He zipped and buttoned them and turned from the room before I could even figure out how to respond.

  I scrambled out of my side of the bed, grabbing his T-shirt and pulling it on. Everything felt off. I’d seen Bishop shut down like this around other people, but never around me. I didn’t know what to make of it. He had the fridge door open in the small kitchen, and I spoke to his back.

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize that was a touchy subject for you. I can . . . go by myself. It’s no big deal.”

  He slammed the fridge door shut and turned. “And who’s going to teach you how to play blackjack? Some random guy who happens to see a sweet thing at the table and decides she’s the one he wants to take home?”

  The statement came out with sharp edges, and I jerked back. Was he . . . ? No way. I blurted it anyway.

  “Are you jealous?”

  Bishop’s big hands landed on his hips and he drew up to his full height, dwarfing me in the tiny kitchen. If he were anyone else, I might have felt a shred of unease, but not with Bishop.

  “Of course I’m fucking jealous, Eden. I know exactly what every man sees when he looks at you. You’re totally oblivious to the fact that they’d trip all over themselves to get closer to you.”

  Now I was getting angry. “Of course I’m oblivious to all of that. I only see you!” I yelled the words across the kitchen with my own hands on my hips like some kind of shrew.

  Bishop’s face relaxed and the tension in his stance drained away. He crossed the small space between us and cupped my face in his hands.

  “I know, cupcake. And I’m the luckiest guy in the goddamned world because of it. I just don’t want to see anything happen to you. I couldn’t handle it.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me. There’s security, and even if there wasn’t, I’m not completely helpless.”

  I’d even walked home from work all by myself several times in the last couple of weeks. Never mind that I never walked home alone if I worked until dark. That was just being smart, I assured myself.

  Something that approached a growl escaped from Bishop’s throat. “Security at a casino isn’t your friend. They have one purpose and one purpose only—protect the interests of the house at all costs. That’s it.”

  “Well, I’m checking this off my damn list, and if you won’t come with me, then what choice do I have?”

  “And what is your goddamned hurry, Eden?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. This was a question I kept dodging, and Bishop was well aware I wasn’t giving him a straight answer. “I thought we decided we weren’t going to talk about that?”

  “Like you never told me the real story behind why you skipped out on the hotel? You’re going to have to talk about it sometime, unless you plan to just up and leave without telling me a damn thing.”

  I wanted to tell him everything. Every day that I kept my silence ate at me. I couldn’t keep this from him any longer. It was time.

  He dropped his hands away from my face and jammed them into his hair, then turned away to face the counter. “Of course you’d have to be this stubborn. Why would I fall for someone who was easy to get an answer from?”

  Everything in the room seemed to come to a screeching halt, except for my heart, which hammered harder than ever before.

  “You’re falling for me?” My voice carried a tremble.

  Bishop spun around to face me, his hair wild and his gaze intense. “How couldn’t I? You’re . . . everything.”

  My head jerked back at his admission, and warmth slammed into my chest.

  You’re everything.

  The look in his eyes said it all. He meant it.

  “You’re everything too.”

  His arms closed around me and he pulled me against his chest, lifting me off my feet.

  I soaked up his warmth, his scent, his everything. Even with 4.2 million men in New York, I knew I’d never find someone like Bishop. He was it.

  And I can’t keep him.

  No. I refused to let that stand. I wasn’t going to let this go and walk away from him. I’d figure out a way. There was no other option.

  When he loosened his hold and lowered me back to the floor, determination flowed through me. I would figure this out.

  “Let’s get you fed so you can get ready for work.”

  I lifted up on my toes and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Okay.”

  I SAT UP ON MY stool and stretched my back, and my client readjusted his position in the chair. From his stiff movements, it seemed like a break might be welcome.

  “You want to take a break before we keep going?”

  He lit up at the suggestion. “Yeah, man. That’d be great. I need a smoke and some coffee. You think we can finish this piece tonight?”

  “We can, if you want to push through. I don’t have anything after you.”

  “I just want it done. No offense, but my old lady might kill me if I have to keep coming back for more sittings.”

  I set my machine on the counter. “I get that, man. I’m heading next door to grab coffee. You want one?”

  “Yeah, black. None of that frappe frou-frou shit.”

  “Cool. I’ll be back in a few.”

  I stood, snapped off my gloves, and stretched as my client headed out the front door with a smoke in one hand and his phone in the other. The door chimed a second time as Con walked in. But he didn’t look a whole hell of a lot like my boss the way I was used to seeing him. Instead, he was kitted out in black tie, and his hair was slicked back from his forehead.

  “Did you get kidnapped by the guy on the fucking Men’s Warehouse commercial?” I asked. “Do you like the way you look?”

  “Shut the hell up. You work for me, fucker. I could fire you for that shit.”

  “Yeah? You got someone else to pick up the slack who isn’t going to fuck up your shop’s rep?”

  “Shut up. I just came to pick up the bank deposit I forgot yesterday. I’m meeting Vanessa at a fundraiser, and she’ll kick my ass if I’m late, so I don’t have time to screw around.”

  “Raising more money for those boxing kids?”

  Con nodded as he headed for the break room where the cash bag was locked in a drawer. “Yeah, we’re working on expanding.”

  “Both of you, do-gooders.”

  “It’s good to give back, man. You should try it sometime. Come down and let the kids take a few shots at you. It’s a fun time.”

  “Maybe I will. So, where’s this fundraiser at tonight?”

  “Casino. Somehow Vanessa talked them into donating a portion of the house’s share. I swear to God, that woman could talk anyone into anything.”

  At the mention of the casino, I thought of my earlier blowout with Eden.

  “Is it like five grand a person to get in? Or can anyone show up?”

  Con shook his head. “Nah, we’ll take anyone’s money. There’s a silent auction, but that shit isn’t required.”

  “If Eden shows up there, would you mind keeping an eye on her? She wants to learn to play blackjack, and that ain’t my scene.”

  Con’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t ask questions. “Yeah, if she needs something, we’ll be there.”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  He grabbed the bank bag and headed toward the front. “You sure you don’t want to put on a monkey suit and come too?”

  “You think I’ve got a tux lying around? Hell no. And even if I did, me and casinos don’t get along anymore.”

  I knew what Con would think, what everyone thought when I said that. Gambling addiction. It was probably part of the truth, but not the whole truth.

  “I get you, man. Tell your girl we’ll be there until at least midnight, but probably later. I’m hoping I can talk Titan into losing a million at the craps table. I already know Lord will lose miserably at poker because I’ve g
ot Elle to distract him.”

  Knowing the whole crew would be there made my unease at having Eden go to the casino without me drop to lower levels.

  “I’ll let her know. Thanks, man.”

  Con pushed out the front door and I was only a few steps behind him to head over to Your Favorite Hole. My client paced the sidewalk, puffing on his smoke and talking into his phone, so I figured I had a few more minutes. Either that or he could wait. I’d be staying at least an hour past what I’d planned to in order to finish his piece, so he didn’t have room to bitch.

  The place was empty except for a kid with huge headphones on in the back corner, and his fingers flew over the keys of a laptop. He looked up at me when I came in, but quickly dropped his gaze back to whatever the hell he was doing. He’d been taking up space in that corner all frigging afternoon. If he were anything but a skinny, nerdy-looking kid, I would have warned him off, but he didn’t strike me as any kind of a threat.

  “Hey there. What can I get for you?”

  My attention cut to Eden and her purple apron and hat. She still looked delicious. “Hey, cupcake. I need two black coffees so I can push through and finish this piece I’m working on.”

  Her smile dimmed a few watts. “Does that mean you’re working late?”

  “Yeah, but I think I found a way to make amends for earlier today.”

  Confusion drew her brows together. “What do you mean?”

  I didn’t want to talk about our argument this morning, but I couldn’t avoid it.

  “If you want to go play blackjack, tonight is the night. Con, Lord, and Titan will all be there with their women. Charity thing. You lose at the game, you’re going to be helping fund the nonprofit afterschool boxing program Con and Vanessa run.”

  “You want me to go with them?” She looked down at her uniform. “I’m off as soon as Asha gets here, but I’m not ready for any kind of charity thing.”

  “Take your time. They’re already on their way. You show up when you can, take a cab, and find one of them to help you learn the rules of the game.”

  “You’re not going to come, are you?” Eden asked.

  “No. I told you, I don’t do casinos. Take a cab back to Voodoo when you’re done, and hopefully I’ll be finished with this piece I’m working on.”

  She turned away and grabbed two coffee cups before filling them and popping the lids on. “I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’ve already crashed one party. I don’t need to crash another.”

  Eden’s disappointment came through loud and clear as she set the cups on the counter in front of me. She kept her gaze on my shirt rather than lifting it so I could see her eyes.

  “Hey. What’s going on? Look at me.”

  She lifted her face, and disappointment was stamped on every feature.

  “I don’t like that you only want me to go because you know there’ll be a whole crew of your friends there. It’s like you think I’m not capable of doing it by myself.”

  I jerked back. “You want me to apologize for wanting to make sure you’re not alone in a casino by yourself?”

  “You don’t have to manage me. I can handle myself.”

  There was something more going on here, but now wasn’t the time to get into it. “I’m not managing you. But wanting to make sure my girl is safe while she gets to have all of her experiences isn’t something I’m ever going to apologize for. Not a fucking chance. So are you going to go or not?”

  “I don’t know. Right now all I want is to get out of these clothes and into a hot shower. I’ll decide once I get home.”

  “You’re not walking by yourself at this time of night.”

  I could tell she wanted to roll her eyes, but she didn’t. “I can’t keep taking a cab six blocks every night that you can’t walk me home. It’s getting ridiculous.”

  “You want me to get someone down here to walk you home? Because there’s no way you need to be out on those streets alone. I’m not taking chances with you, Eden. You’re too fucking important to me.”

  Frustration rolled off her in waves, but I wouldn’t budge.

  “Fine. I’ll take a cab.”

  “Good. Text me if you decide to go out tonight.”

  “Fine.”

  Her response was short, and I leaned across the counter. “I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m just trying to be a guy who cares about you.”

  “And I’m trying to prove to myself that I can do some things on my own, okay? You’re going to have to let me, Bishop. I don’t do clipped wings. Not anymore.”

  I leaned in and brushed my lips across hers. “I don’t want to clip anything. Be smart, babe. Text me later.”

  She returned my kiss. “Your coffee’s on the house. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I dropped a ten on the counter anyway, and watched her grab a rag to wipe it down as soon as I was out the door.

  Even though I’d expected to feel lighter when I came up with this solution, something about it left me off-balance.

  I STOOD IN FRONT OF my small closet, the towel from my shower wrapped around my body while I debated what I wanted to do. My gaze traveled back and forth between a little black dress and a T-shirt I’d stolen from Bishop and didn’t have any plans to return.

  Why did it bother me so much that he wanted me to go tonight when a bunch of his friends would be there?

  If Bishop had said he would go and help me learn blackjack, I wouldn’t have cared. But his aversion to casinos was obvious. It didn’t take a genius to realize that he must have had some sort of gambling problem in the past and now didn’t want to be close to temptation. I could respect that. After I’d figured that out, I felt awful about asking him to go in the first place. It was like offering up a shot to someone who had dropped hints about being in AA.

  Idiot.

  But instead of telling me to go and have fun, I felt like he’d organized some kind of safe encounter for me. I should have appreciated it, but something about it had rubbed me the wrong way.

  Black dress or T-shirt long enough to be a dress? That was the question.

  Did I let my momentary annoyance stop me from experiencing more of New Orleans?

  Screw it. I grabbed the black dress off the hanger and made my decision.

  I was going, and I would have an amazing time. I might not know the finer points of playing blackjack, but I wasn’t stupid. I could count to twenty-one. I understood the basic principles. I’d take fifty dollars and wouldn’t let myself lose any more than that.

  After spending what was probably a little too much time on my hair and makeup, I called a cab and headed down to the courtyard to wait. Harriet sat outside with a bottle of liquor and a giant cigar, puffing away like a pro.

  “If I were fifty years younger and into women, I’d pick you up in a heartbeat. Way to go, girl. That man of yours is going to pin you to a wall when he sees you.”

  Hearing something like that come out of the mouth of a woman closing in on seventy was still jarring, but Harriet was truly one of a kind and only marginally batshit crazy. I loved her.

  “I’m not going out with my man tonight, so he’s going to miss out on all this.” I gestured to my wildly curling hair.

  “Oh really? You have a fight? That boy doesn’t seem like the type to let you go out on the town without making sure he can keep his claim intact.”

  Her words fired up my annoyance from earlier. “He’s working.”

  “His loss. You’ll be the center of attention.”

  Immediately, I began to regret my decision to go all out with my primping. The center of attention was not something I needed to be.

  She held out the cigar. “Want a puff? It’s a good Cuban.”

  Of course it was. Because why would Harriet smoke anything but a Cuban cigar?

  “I’m good, thanks. I don’t smoke.” I was actually considering going back up to my room and calling off the entire night when the sound of a horn honking came from out front.

  “That’ll be my cab. I
should go.”

  “Have fun tonight, Eden. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  I wondered what exactly that mandate would preclude me from doing, but decided not to think too hard about it. Harriet seemed like she’d done a lot of living in her years, and I couldn’t imagine what she would consider off-limits.

  When the cab pulled up in front of the casino, I paid the driver and climbed out. A big sign hung out front advertising the charity event for the evening—THE ONE NIGHT YOU CAN LOSE AND STILL CONSIDER IT A VICTORY.

  That was an amazingly generous situation, and I was stunned any casino would agree to donate part of their take. I supposed it had a lot to say about the persuasiveness of the charity and its benefactors.

  I took the steps one at a time, careful to make sure my dress stayed down with the breeze picking up off the river. I didn’t want to have a Marilyn Monroe moment and flash an entire crowd of potential donors.

  At the door, the man spent longer than normal staring at my ID, and I started to get nervous.

  “Enjoy yourself, Ms. Madden,” he finally said before handing it back to me.

  I shook off the odd feeling that came with his smile, and headed to the floor. It’s just nerves because you don’t like using a fake ID, I told myself.

  The floor was filled with machines that lit up and played music, along with tables, dealers, and plenty of players. More signs that announced the donations that would go to charity tonight hung from the ceiling and sat on the tops of machines. I had no doubt they’d encourage people to play deeper and lose more because they felt like they were losing for a good cause. It was actually a pretty brilliant fundraising idea.

  Signs pointing to a silent auction room led in one direction, but I didn’t follow them. I headed toward the tables to watch and teach myself how to play blackjack.

  The annoyance and unease I’d felt earlier in the evening fell away as excitement bubbled up. I’d never been inside a casino before, so every part of this experience was new and different. I could see how people would be drawn to the lights and sounds of the slots. They seemed so cheerful and fun. I thought of the fifty dollars in my purse and wondered if I should just stop and try one . . .