by JN Welsh
She rushed over to him. “Hey, can I talk to you?”
He studied her with the same concern he’d shown during her phone call with Abe. “Sure.”
Once out of earshot, Leona explained the situation and prayed Luke wouldn’t make this any more excruciating.
“You want me to agree to let you go?” Luke asked.
“Yes.” Leona was thrown back to grade school and asking her parents to attend a sleepover.
“No,” Luke responded without hesitation. His remorseless eyes informed her she was in for a struggle.
“They won’t do it otherwise.”
Luke shrugged. “Tough shit.”
“Is your objection because it’s Paul?”
“Facts. Oh, and let’s not forget I have a show tonight. I need my tour manager.”
“Sara and Sebastian can manage one night. Tomorrow’s a travel day and I’ll meet you and the team in Lawrence.” Leona did her best to sound optimistic. Her team could manage one day without her, but would she be able to manage one day with Paul?
Luke leaned in close. “Are you hearing me, Leona? My answer’s no. It’s not in my best interest. Plus, I know you don’t want to go.”
Leona pressed on her ear. Center. Center. “It’s not exactly my choice, but it’s important.”
“You always have a choice.”
Funny, it didn’t feel that way. “The positive press will help all of us.” She offered a weak benefit but she was fresh out of ideas to make this impromptu meeting seem like a good thing.
Luke stretched for five long seconds and rubbed his reddening face. “Okay.”
“You’ll agree?”
“Yes,” he paused, “but I’m coming with you.”
Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “What? No, you can’t. You have the Dallas show tonight and need to get to the next location.”
“Either I go with you after my show tonight or you don’t go at all.” Luke’s resolute stance made it clear that no matter what she said, he wouldn’t budge.
“It’s too risky.” Her hand flew up to her ear, again.
“No riskier than an MIA tour manager.” Luke gathered both her hands in his and stilled her. “That’s my final offer.”
Shit! “Fine. We’ll leave in the morning.” So much for choices.
* * *
The French Quarter was alive with tourists taking in the sights, and the sound of New Orleans jazz filled the air. Leona sped down the streets toward her destination. Luke trailed behind with his hand in a bag of beignets, wearing a baseball cap to camouflage his identity.
She and Luke arrived at the old French-style building. When they entered, they were greeted by rustic décor. An aged tapestry hung from the wall and luxurious velvet couches, trimmed with gold, sat on antiqued carpeting. The small lounge, before entering the theater, was reminiscent of a burlesque show.
As if on cue, a woman in skimpy burlesque-wear, complete with silver tasseled nipple covers and red garter, greeted them. “Allo, chéris! I’m Mademoiselle. Are you here for the show?”
“Yes?” Luke chuckled at her uncertainty.
“Right this way.” Mademoiselle, with her creole French accent, sauntered closer to Luke. “You’re so handsome.”
“Thanks.” Luke’s whole face smiled.
“Are you two together? How long are you staying in New Orleans, mon chéri?” Mademoiselle pawed Luke’s strong shoulders.
“Well...” Luke squatted to sit on the couch.
“Come on.” Leona tugged him toward the theater. His laugh tickled the hairs at the back of her neck. She had no idea what to expect having her ex-boyfriend and her current client in the same room. The scenario had her clenching and releasing her fists. Based on previous conversations, Luke and Paul were ingredients that did not make for a good stew.
She stopped Luke before they entered. “Look, you don’t have to come in. You can stay out here with Mademoiselle.” The thought of him staying outside with a near-naked, aggressive woman didn’t thrill her, but it was better than a possible confrontation with Paul or Abe or the artist they were meeting.
“I’m coming in. I’m sure my presence will help speed this along,” Luke said.
“Good point.” Leona hadn’t thought about it that way. “But...behave.”
“Oh, I plan to.”
Leona’s stress level rose at Luke’s fight stance.
They entered and Leona’s eyes immediately went to Paul, dressed in pressed, brown slacks and a white shirt that popped off his sun-kissed skin. He wore a straw-textured fedora hat with black hatband to finish his signature outfit.
He still looks good.
Next to Paul was Abe, engaged in conversation with a man Leona recognized as Christian Sacks. Christian was part of DJ trio Tres Armadas, the biggest Electronic Dance Music group on the scene. As far as celebrities in EDM went, Christian was it.
“Way to wail...” Alarmed, Leona ducked as Luke yelled over her head.
“...And wild out,” Christian finished as she and Luke approached.
Luke passed her and greeted Christian with a hug.
“What the...” Leona said as she greeted Abe with a kiss on the cheek and nodded briefly to Paul. Her body was electric with nerves.
“I didn’t know these two were friends.” Abe touched her arm and his hand withdrew as if he’d burned himself on a boiling kettle. “Jeez. Relax, Leo.”
She clenched her fists, which cracked her knuckles, slightly improving her disposition.
“I’m okay.” Leona whispered the obvious untruth. The last time she was this close to Paul she’d found him, in their apartment, getting his dick wet from a strawberry blonde. When they broke up, his ego had retaliated with lies, even though she’d protected him.
Abe adjusted his suit. “I don’t like that he’s here any more than you do, but this could work in our favor. Christian Sacks, Leona. Can you believe our luck? And he wants to work with us.”
Luke and Christian continued their conversation while Abe and Leona observed.
“So, you’re the one beckoning my tour manager? I should kick your ass,” Luke threatened and the two men laughed.
“We interrupted your tour?” Christian’s strong Dutch accent decorated his words. He tucked his light brown, chin-length hair behind his ear. He turned to Paul. “Did you know that?”
“I like to make things happen.” Paul trapped her into an embrace. “Hey, honey.”
She wanted to gag, and extricated herself from Paul’s arms.
Luke gritted his teeth and followed her as she returned to Abe’s side.
“What the hell are you doing here, man?” Christian said to Luke and jutted his head in Paul’s direction.
“Ensuring my tour manager gets back in time for my show,” Luke said.
The two men shared a nonverbal understanding before Christian glanced over at Leona. “I see why.” Christian’s low, under breath comment was audible.
“I’m amazed you allowed your artist to break from the tour with an appearance so close, Leo. That’s Risk Management 101.” Paul’s smug remark vexed her.
“Leona didn’t let me do anything. Seeing as you organized this meeting, knowing she was on tour, seems like a poor choice on your part,” Luke delivered with irritable undertones.
Paul went to retort, but Luke’s voice boomed through the theater, drowning out any further complaint. “Leona, this is my good friend Christian Sacks. DJ and musical genius.”
Come on, Sable. Stay focused. Don’t let this get under your skin. Turn on. “The Christian Sacks of Tres Armadas?”
Christian stretched his arms out in presentation. “The one and only.”
“I only work with the best, Leo.” Paul rotated to her, dismissing Luke.
“Right.” Leona addressed Paul but kept her attention on
Christian. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is certainly all mine.” Christian enveloped her hand with his. His eyes twinkled.
“So, how can I help you, Christian?” Leona asked.
“I’m launching a solo project. Due to the conflict of interest with Tres Armadas, I needed to seek management. Paul’s doing some production on my album, so when he mentioned he could get me an in-person meeting with you and Wallace Entertainment, I jumped on it.”
Paul Reese strikes again. Leona wondered if Paul’s creativity had come back or if he was stealing tracks from someone else this time around.
“It would be a pleasure to work with you, Christian, but I’m on tour through the rest of the summer with Luke. When does your album drop?”
“The fall, but we’ll be releasing a few singles before then. Depending on the Tres Armadas tour schedule, I want to be ready to perform in the New Year,” Christian explained.
“Nice. We can continue to talk and work it out. Abe mentioned you had a few tracks you wanted to play for us. Do you mind if Luke stays? I need to ask for artistic confidentiality.”
“Yeah, this troublemaker can stay.” Christian shoved Luke. “He’s featured on two tracks.”
“Two of the best tracks,” Luke gibed his friend.
“Hey, are those beignets?” Christian reached for the bag.
“Fresh from Café du Monde.” Luke gave the beignets to Christian. Their sugary fried fragrance perfumed the air.
“Glad they’re not animal crackers.” Christian popped a piece of dough in his mouth.
“True story,” Luke said.
Leona stared at the two men as if in a surreal daydream. Their jovial exchange displayed their friendship and she enjoyed seeing Luke so normal.
Christian motioned toward a booth on the second tier of the theater and the familiar sound of feedback emitted through the speakers.
“Just a second.” Paul seized her elbow. His fingers were like an unwanted insect crawling on her skin.
“Don’t touch me.” She yanked her elbow free.
“Okay, okay.” Paul put his hands up and motioned her to the far end of the theater. Luke’s eyes tracked her as Paul attempted to guide her away from the group.
Leona blinked over to Abe for assistance but her boss made no attempt to help. Abe even angled his head in Paul’s direction, encouraging her to talk to him. Her heart fell. So much for that protection he promised.
“We’re on a tight schedule, Paul.”
Luke was over to her in a flash. “Hey, we should get started. We have to get back,” Luke said to her.
At least someone tried to help her out. “Okay, I—”
“Back up, man, we’re talking.” Paul’s nostrils flared.
Luke tucked her behind him. “She’s here for Christian, not you.”
“Worried I’ll steal her, too,” Paul taunted.
Luke clenched and unclenched his fists and a wave of heat emitted from him. “No, she’s moved on to bigger and better.” He widened his stance. “Much bigger.”
Leona’s body petrified. Her eyes went back and forth from Paul’s tight expression to Luke’s icy daggers. This is so fucked up. She reanimated and stepped between the two men. “Okay, stop. What do you want, Paul?”
Paul peacocked. “I just want to talk.”
Leona pulled Luke toward Abe and Christian. That didn’t stop him from glaring over his shoulder at Paul. “Give us a minute, okay? This won’t take long.”
She marched back to Paul.
“Your pit bull all caged up?”
“Don’t refer to him like that. You wanted to talk, so talk.”
“You’re lookin’ good. How have you been?” Paul tried to touch her and she evaded him.
“Great. No thanks to you.”
“I miss you, Leo. I think about you and how good we were together. Don’t you miss me?”
“Nope,” Leona said. Paul’s words stirred something in her that she couldn’t quite define. She hadn’t expected him to lead with feelings of reconciliation. She had to stay on her toes.
She’d forgotten how charismatic he was and the way his sweet talk hid his dark side. It was how he’d wooed her into a relationship, and his bed, despite the rumors. Later in their relationship, she’d been one of the people Paul hurt and destroyed for his career and fame, even as he professed to love her.
Paul continued to lather on the charm but she was well versed in his dark arts.
“Some of the things I said weren’t nice—”
“You mean the lies you told. You tried to ruin my career and reputation even after all I’ve done for you.”
“But when you left, I was angry, honey...” Paul reached for her and she backed away.
“Don’t call me honey,” Leona hissed. The familiar endearments sounded wrong to her now. “When I left? What a joke? Your ego would actually expect me to stay after that night.”
“Don’t look at me like that, Leo.”
“Like how? Like nothing you’ve said so far makes any sense? If the shoe fits.” Leona eyed their surroundings. “I’m not here for you. Keep your end of the deal. That’s the least you could do for Abe. He helped you get to where you are.”
“So did you.” He grasped her hand. “I want you back, Leo.”
Leona peered up into maple brown eyes. She could forgive Paul, but she would never trust him and they’d never be friends, work or otherwise. His behavior repeatedly wounded, and he had cut her too deep. It was only because she’d cared for him once that she didn’t tell the world.
“Paul...” she began but stopped when Paul leered at something behind her.
She swiveled around to see Luke and Paul engaged in a stare down that made her seek the sidelines.
“Are you fucking him?” Paul accused.
Leona called upon all of her strength not to hit him. “I was wondering when the real you would finally show up. Thank you for reminding me why I want nothing to do with you.” She stomped away and over to Christian, Luke, and Abe.
“Let’s hear this album.” Anger rippled through her body like a tsunami on Red Bull.
The sour expression on his face catapulted her back to the night at the Metro Hotel, after she’d mentioned Paul was one of her clients.
“What?” she challenged and immediately regretted her tone.
Luke tilted his head and further wrinkled his brows. The warning made her even more miserable.
Leona was thankful when he didn’t comment and conceded for the time being. Annoyed that she’d let Paul or Luke influence her professionalism, she tried to give Christian her best smile. “I apologize for the interruptions. I’m all yours.” She was betrayed by the spasms in her cheeks.
“Can you handle a third?” Christian asked softly and motioned to Luke and Paul.
His smirk helped relieve some of the stiffness in her shoulders. “A third, a fourth...”
Christian chuckled and Leona was happy for the comic relief.
“Track one,” Christian called. Music filled the theater.
* * *
If Paul tried to put his hands on Leona one more time, Luke was sure he was going to lose his fucking mind. Seeing his friend and fellow artist did nothing to cool him off. Guilt had riddled him when he found out Christian would be working with Paul on the album.
“Thanks for your time, guys, I really appreciate it,” Christian said.
“Glad I could make the connection, Christian. Abe, Leona, we’ll be in touch,” Paul chimed in.
Leona rolled her eyes and Luke shared her sentiment. Paul had been stewing on the sidelines while the grownups had been working—no doubt plotting his next media tirade or womanizing efforts.
Luke chatted with Christian and kept his eyes on Paul. Paul returned an equally poisonous glare. If looks could kill,
they’d both be obliterated.
“Is that about the past or the present?” Christian asked.
“Both.”
“I’m surprised you lasted this long. I heard you signed with Wallace Entertainment but had I known I was interrupting your tour I never would have pushed for this meeting.”
“It’s cool.” Though Luke had history with Paul, his concern for Leona had jumped to the top of his list so fast he’d lost his cool and bickered with his nemesis.
“Ready to go?” she asked him. She’d snapped at him earlier but now offered a less sour tone.
He gave her a curt nod, and then gave Christian some parting advice. “Hey, man. I know you want to work with Paul but be careful. Keep your sound and abandon ship if shit gets weird with production.”
“I’m hoping he’ll produce one of those chart-blowing hits. It’s been a minute but I’d do it for the music,” Christian admitted.
Luke was doubtful that Christian would get his wish. “No matter what you do, keep him away from my tracks. I don’t want him fucking up my shit. Plus, I have a good feeling about those.” One thing Luke knew was music. When Ivy had suggested he work with Paul and change his sound, he’d let their relationship influence him. All that had gotten him was a bag of headaches and an empty bed when Ivy left him to pursue Paul.
Leona and Abe shared a few departing words and then he and Leona headed for the plane to Kansas.
Once on the plane, Leona sank into the cushioned plane seat and her shoulders thawed away from her ears.
“Leona?” Her shoulders inched up again, but he needed to remind her that his name was Luke Anderson and not Paul Reese. “I can appreciate your frustration with this situation. However, if you use that tone with me again, be prepared to get it back in return. Are we clear?”
“Yes.” She massaged the chill from her arms and gazed out the window.
“And the next time you get called upon to reunite with your ex—”
“Stop, Luke,” she pleaded, her voice small and defeated.
She’d always presented a strong front but the way her voice broke wounded him. He grabbed an airplane blanket from overhead and placed it on her shoulders. She startled at the feel of the soft material on her skin, but then tightened the blanket around her and snuggled into its warmth. Warmth he provided. Not Abe, who had gotten her into this situation, or Paul, who continued to manipulate her.
