“Yeah, thanks for working tonight.” He pushed a napkin over to me with a pen from his pocket. “Write your name down so I can cut you a check.”
“Oh, there’s no need. The tips were more than enough.” I smiled. It was more money than I’d made clerking in a law firm before I’d passed the bar. “It was nice to meet you.”
“I appreciate you looking into the issue with the police department.”
“Of course. It’s my job.”
“I’ll make sure you meet Omar. He’s having more issues than we are with theft. Let me check with him to figure out a time.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I untied the black apron from around my waist and placed it on the counter before navigating through the crowd and out the front door into the heat. I couldn’t believe it was only this morning I’d approached Gabe. It felt like a week or more. I took a deep breath as soon as I was out on the sidewalk. The street was different at night. It was still filled with people enjoying the night, but it was darker, more sinister.
I walked toward the streetcar stop since it ran twenty-four hours a day.
An unkempt man walked by in clothes that hung off him and I resisted covering my mouth at his stench as he approached with a toothless grin. “Can you help me?”
“No, I don’t carry any cash.” I’d learned to say that from the times I’d visited Baltimore. There, people posed as homeless to make money. I shivered despite the warm air and rubbed the goosebumps on my arms. Luckily, he kept walking. I probably should have taken an Uber.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A frustrated voice came up behind me, startling me.
I turned to see Gabe stalking toward me. “Going home.”
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“I was going to take the streetcar.” What I liked about the city when I had considered taking this job was that it was pretty easy to get around between the streetcars, Uber, and cabs in the touristy areas. I didn’t have the added expense of a car and I didn’t need to worry about parking.
“Streetcars aren’t safe at night. I’ll call you an Uber.” He stopped and pulled out his phone.
“Thanks for telling me.” No one mentioned that, but other than the other attorney my age, Hadley, I hadn’t socialized with anyone.
When he was done, he stepped back against the wall to avoid an intoxicated college-aged
group passing us. Leaning against the wall, he was more relaxed than I’d seen him all day.
“I’m sorry if I was an asshole earlier.” He shrugged as if to say this is who I am.
“Okay.” I had not expected an apology, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Isaac put him up to it.
“I’m not someone you should be around.”
There was a vulnerability in his eyes that made me curious as to why he thought that about himself, but I was supposed to be dealing with Isaac on this. “I talked to Isaac and he’s willing to introduce me to the other business owners, so we don’t need to interact.”
“We had a deal. Not Isaac.” Teasing made his face look younger, softer, and more approachable. “You fill in as a waitress until Isaac hires someone and I’ll introduce you to Omar.”
I was a little thrown by his change in personality. Did he feel badly for what he’d said about me? Did he know he was wrong?
Gabe’s eyes pleaded with me. “Will you give me another chance?”
I wanted to ask why I should. He’d effectively pushed me away. Isn’t that what he wanted? When I didn’t answer right away, he continued, “I want to take on more responsibility at the bar and what better way than to help Isaac and you with this?”
“Okay.” He’d made a good point and seemed to have a valid reason to help me.
“Have you had beignets at Café du Monde in the French Quarter yet?” he asked, his eyes searching my face.
“No, I haven’t.” I wanted to go there. Everyone raved about their beignets and French-roast coffee.
“Let me make up for being an asshole.”
“Okay.” His delivery was gruff but sent a tingle down my spine similar to the one I’d felt when he’d brushed past me in the office. I’d never experienced anything like that before.
“Can I put my number in your phone? So we can figure out a date and time?”
I hesitated, unsure if this was a good decision. I barely knew this man.
“You can always block me later,” Gabe said, as if sensing my concern.
“Sure.” I handed him my phone and waited for him to input his information and text himself.
“There. I'll text you.” A car pulled to a stop in front of us and Gabe moved to open the door. “Your Uber.”
I climbed inside the car but when I went to pull the door closed, Gabe’s hand held onto it. “Isaac told me you didn’t want to be paid for your time.”
I shook my head. “You’re helping me, and trust me, the tips were more than enough.”
He smiled like he was pleased by my comment. “Have a good night.”
“You too.”
Before he closed the door, his face was open, his eyes vulnerable, and I thought I saw longing in them. I didn’t take my eyes from his retreating form as the car pulled away from the curb.
Chapter Four
TAYLOR
I woke up Friday morning in my new one-bedroom rental in the heart of the Garden District. The neighborhood reminded me of home with its historic homes, wrought iron gates, and large balconies. My rental was located in a white-siding shotgun house with tall black shutters, which was unique to New Orleans—long narrow homes with the rooms lined up in a row. My room was on the second story in the back of the house and the best feature was the tiny balcony on the back of the
