“It’s just that Molly already likes to draw, and I thought it might give her something to do.” My gaze meets his then, and I hope he understands. “Something to earn money.”
Mark laughs. “Haven’t you heard the expression, ‘starving artist’?”
“I guess that’s true.”
A familiar voice calls my name over the bustle of the square. I turn and my eyes land on Evie’s. She’s walking with two well-dressed men, and the three of them begin weaving their way toward us.
“What a wonderful surprise!” She takes my hand. “Isn’t it a beautiful afternoon. Let me introduce Phillip and Armand.”
They’re very handsome. One has light brown hair, while the other’s is darker. They stand close to each other, but Phillip has his hand on Evie’s arm. She’s wearing a plum-colored mini dress and a black velvet beret, and she looks like a model.
“I love your dress,” I say, not really sure how I’m supposed to act. I feel like I know too much about these men to be meeting them for the first time.
“Armand picked it out for me! Isn’t it the cutest thing?” She twirls, and Molly’s eyes are dazzled.
“You look amazing!” she cries.
“But what are you doing out here?” She studies the three of us.
“I… I was…” I’m drawing a blank. I can’t tell Evie and her boyfriends I was pawning my heirlooms to buy Molly shoes.
“I asked Lara to meet me,” Mark steps forward, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Armand. Phillip.”
“You know Mark… Well, he’s actually quite an artist.”
Evie’s eyes go big. “A hero and an artist? How interesting…”
“And I’m getting new shoes!” Molly announces.
“You are?” Evie studies Mark a moment then looks at me, then Molly. “You know Armand has the best eye for fashion. Why don’t we take Molly with us, and I’ll bring her home with me.”
“Oh yes!” Molly grabs my arm.
“I-I don’t know…” Not that I mind her going with Evie. I’m just not sure I can afford Armand’s taste.
“Please.” Evie smiles, touching my arm. “It’ll give me someone to chat with.”
I get the feeling Evie is on her own more than she anticipated in this arrangement. “I don’t want to intrude on your day. I’m sure Armand doesn’t want to shop for Molly’s shoes.”
“You’re wrong.” The darker one who isn’t holding Evie’s arm lifts his eyebrows and winks. “I love to shop for women’s shoes.”
“That’s nice.” Leaning forward, I whisper in Evie’s ear. “I only have thirty dollars.”
“Your money’s no good here!” She steps away, waving a hand.
“Evie, I have to pay—”
“Absolutely not,” Phillip reaches for Molly’s hand. “It’s my treat.”
My mouth opens and closes, but I’m fresh out of arguments.
“That settles it,” Evie says. “We’ll see you later tonight. Have fun!”
The four of them take off in the direction of the shops, and I’m left watching them leave. I don’t even have a chance to give Molly any final instructions.
“That was lucky,” Mark says, turning to face me.
Our eyes meet, and I can’t help a smile. The entire transaction with Evie and her boys lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. “I guess it was. I’ll have to do something to thank her.”
“I think those guys like shopping.” He winks and looks after them.
“I won’t complain. I hate it.”
He nods. “Noted. No shopping for you.”
“Unless you need to get something…” I hold out my hand.
He takes it, covering it with his larger one and pulling it into the crook of his arm. “I’m all set for now.” We walk along the large square filled with artists, tarot readers, and other street vendors. “Have you had lunch?”
“I didn’t have a chance to grab anything before we left the theater.”
“That settles it. I’ll take you to my favorite place.”
“I didn’t think you were from New Orleans.” His body is warm beside mine, and I can’t help noticing the rock-hard bicep I’m holding.
“I’m not, but I get around.”
“And you have a favorite place to eat?”
He covers my fingers with his hand. “It doesn’t look like much, but I guarantee you’ll love it. The best part—no disguises necessary.”
I remember my excuse. “I don’t think I have to worry about anybody recognizing me yet.”
“That won’t last long.”
I’m not sure how to interpret his tone—is it pride or regret? I decide to let it pass and hold his arm as we walk along the flagstones down a narrow side alley lined with arched brick openings looking into small courtyards. One has a fountain, and the echo of water fills the short space.
“It’s so pretty.” I lean to look inside.
“Yeah, I didn’t really notice last time.”
“Are you saying you don’t appreciate Creole architecture?”
“I like wrought iron and ivy. Just not when I’m hungry.”
A man walks past us carrying a white paper bag emitting a delicious smell, and my hand tightens on his arm. I realize how long it’s been since I’ve eaten.
“I’m beginning to understand.”
We continue past several brick-paved streets leading west and away from the square. Mark finally stops at a narrow alley covered by a balcony with black, wrought iron columns and ivy growing up the red bricks. It’s shadowy, and he stops me by putting both hands on my shoulders.
“Wait here.”
My eyebrows rise. “It’s not a restaurant?”
“I’ll be right back.”
The mischief in his eyes makes me laugh. It’s like we’re doing something illegal, which I guess we are since you’re not supposed to sell food without a permit.
I stand in the narrow alley, watching a stream of water running down the little valley in the center. A few minutes pass, and I slowly walk to the next corner. An Asian guy is sitting in a doorway eating a poboy he holds in a paper wrapper. More delicious scents, and this time my stomach growls.
“Ready?”
“Jesus!” I jump out of my skin, and Mark laughs.
“Why so jumpy? We’re not robbing a bank.”
He has a white paper bag in his hand. It’s just like the one the man from earlier was carrying, and I reach for it. “Give me mine now.”
“Hold your horses. I’ve got another surprise.”
Twisting my lips, I frown up at him. “I hope it’s not far.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me after him. “Come on.”
We continue down the same alley for three more blocks until it opens onto a wide street past the French Market. The backs of the kiosks the merchants use to display their wares are facing us. In front of us, the levee goes straight up, tall as the balconies on the facing buildings.
“Sometimes I forget how high the river is here,” Mark says.
I remember the flood from when I was a little girl, but the girl’s school where I lived was on high ground. We were spared the worst of it.
He tugs my hand forward, and my eyes shoot to his. “I can’t climb that.”
“Good thing there’s stairs.”
We walk down a little way then climb a narrow concrete stairway leading to the top of the grassy hill. Damp wind blows cool as we walk down the path to a black metal bench. The currents swirl and crisscross in the center of the wide stretch of river, but I’m not interested in that or the barges slowly passing.
“Let’s eat!”
“Now who’s not interested in the scenery.”