“You’re moving slower on purpose.”
I reach for the bag, and he laughs, pulling out a foot-long sandwich wrapped in wax paper. The scents emanating from it have my stomach roaring. Mark holds it up.
“I have to warn you. Once you eat this sandwich, you’ll be addicted.”
“What is it?” I’m practically on my knees waiting.
He unrolls it and I see crisp French bread with lettuce spilling out the sides, pink sauce, and little flakey, golden-brown fried nuggets. He passes me half, and I take a bite. Tangy heat, tomato, the rich copper of oysters, combined with the ocean freshness of shrimp.
“It’s the everything sandwich. Fried oysters, shrimp, and fish with Rémoulade and tartar sauce. And a secret ingredient I suspect is crack.” He takes a big bite, but I’m already on my second.
“Oh my God,” I groan with my mouth full.
He nods, grinning. “Right?”
“Who makes this?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Top secret.”
“What!” I smack his arm playfully. “You can’t keep this a secret now! What will I do?”
“Don’t piss me off, I guess.”
“Argh!” I squeal before taking another giant bite of heaven.
We sit for a few minutes grinning and scarfing down the sandwich until there’s nothing left but paper. I pick up pieces of lettuce with creamy Rémoulade clinging to them and put them in my mouth. My stomach is wonderfully full.
“It’s probably good you don’t tell me the name of that place,” I giggle, rubbing my hands over my stomach. “Bad for business.”
“No way. You’re too skinny.”
“Too skinny?” I arch an eyebrow at him.
He clears his throat and starts collecting our trash. “You’re definitely not fat.”
Chewing on my bottom lip, I watch his hands moving, remembering the night he saw more of me than any man ever has.
“Why did you come to New Orleans?” I feel certain it wasn’t to work at a burlesque show, although I suppose some men would consider it a career goal.
He sits straighter and looks out at the brown water. “I came because my uncle lived here. He was the only relative I knew about.”
“Lived here?”
Mark’s eyes drop to his hands. “He died.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry.” I reach out to touch his shoulder. It moves up and down under my hand.
“I never really knew him.” He makes a fist. “I’d only been staying with him a few days when it happened.”
“I’m so sorry.” My voice is softer. I know how it feels to be left alone in a strange city. “Was Terrence a friend of his?”
“Terrence has a house. He rents rooms for cheap. I was only planning to stay one night while I figured out what to do next.”
We’re quiet watching the currents. A ripple on the water is cut by the prow of a riverboat. “You want to be an artist?”
“What?” His brow furrows, and then he seems to remember. “Oh, that. No, I was just messing around earlier. I want to go to the police academy.”
That pulls me up short. “Police academy?”
He grins. “Yeah, I thought I’d be a cop.”
“Why?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“I don’t mean… It’s not what I expected.”
He stands and holds a hand out to me. I take it and we start walking toward the little staircase leading back the way we came.
“I wasn’t interested in going to college for four years. I didn’t want to join the military… Although, I liked the idea of it, how it works. I like talking to people, and I seem to get along with most of them.” We reach the brick paved streets of the Quarter. He looks up at the gray clouds rolling in from the river. “I wanted to be one of the good guys.”
Mark
She’s so pretty walking beside me in the fading sunlight. The trees cast speckled shadows over everything and occasionally a breeze freshens our faces. It smells like rain and the promise of fall touches us on every other gust.
Her hand has been in mine or on my arm most of the afternoon, and it’s so easy walking and talking with her.
“Will you go to the academy now?” Her pretty blue eyes meet mine, and a touch of worry is in them. I don’t want to be stupid and think she cares if I leave… but maybe?
I pull open the theater door, and we enter through the dark lobby. “Going to the academy costs money. More than I have right now.”
She stops and faces me in the empty hall. “What will you do? The crew usually leaves once the set work is done.”
I rub my forehead, thinking about what Gavin said. His knowledge of my uncle… my limited knowledge of what Rick did, how he died… My creeping sense that working for Gavin would make me one of the bad guys.
Then I see her pretty face.
I saw her beautiful body two nights ago… But she’s not like the other girls. When she’s with me, it doesn’t feel like she has an agenda. She’s just sweet and smart and a little shy.
Shoving my concerns aside, I decide to stay. “Gavin wants me to do some work for him. He said he’s starting something new.”
Her brow lowers, and she touches my arm. “You need to be careful with him.” Her face is serious, and I take her hand, holding it in my bandaged ones.
She cares, but I have no reason to believe it’s more than friendship. Or gratitude.
“I get that feeling.”
Our eyes meet, and she steps closer. When she stands in front of me, she seems so small.
“What did you want to do?” My voice is soft, and I reach up to lightly slide a curl off her cheek. She blinks slowly, thinking.
“Since I was young, I always wanted to be a singer.”
“You have a beautiful voice.”
“But once you go down this road, it’s like you can’t seem to get off it.”
My chest tightens, and I lift her small hand in mine. “Sounds like we’re both making critical decisions.”
I won’t leave her to take this step alone. The pull in my chest is too strong. I have to keep her safe from things that would hurt her, from the men who come here, from the way the crew talks about the girls. From the way some of the girls see themselves…
“You’re so good.” Her voice is soft, and she traces her finger along the bandage before lifting her blue eyes to meet mine. “Thank you for buying me lunch. For saving me…”
Without warning, she steps forward and wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her face against my chest, and I don’t hold back. She fits perfectly in my arms, and I inhale the sweet scent of her hair just before I press my lips to the top of her head.
Her voice is muffled against my shirt. “It feels so safe here.”
“Lara,” I whisper in her hair. “I want to keep you safe.”
She pulls back, and I loosen my hold. But she doesn’t leave. She puts her hand against my cheek, lifting her chin as she rises higher on her toes. Hell if I make her work for it.
Leaning forward, I capture her lips. They part, and our tongues meet, curling together as I hug her closer to me. She exhales a little noise, and her fingers thread in the sides of my hair. I trace a line with my lips to her ear.