“We have people coming in an hour,” Dimitri said. “Why wouldn’t I be up?”
Greer walked away from the coffeemaker and over to him in the work area. He hopped up into one of the chairs. “I thought you’d be entertaining.”
Dimitri sat down in a chair next to him. “Who? We worked until three.”
“That little hazel-eyed cutie from last night.”
“Him? No. His friends carted him out of here right after you left.
He was still asleep. He never woke up while I worked on him.” Greer shook his head. “You passed up a pretty good opportunity.”
“For what? To go to jail? He was so out of it. I bet that was the first time he’d been up so late.”
“You think he’ll remember getting those tattoos?” Dimitri doubted it. But he probably noticed them as soon as he undressed. The kid had a nice ass. He’d snuck a look at it while he slept. And he had baby-soft skin. Just the thought made Dimitri’s body harden with desire. “Anyway, the tattoos aren’t very large and no one will see them unless they get up close and personal with him.” Greer laughed. “Those rich kids are crazy. His friend with the blond hair wanted this big assed skull and crossbones on his arm, but I talked him into getting a smaller one. How did he think he’d be able to explain something like that to his future employer?” Dimitri chuckled. “Even the girl wanted something radical above her butt. I gave her a small tiger paw. She’ll thank me later because it’s so cute.”
The coffeemaker beeped. Greer got out of the chair and walked over to the pot and poured himself a cup. “Do you think you’ll ever see him again?”
“What’s with the questions?” Dimitri asked.
“I don’t know. I just have the feeling that you liked him.”
“I did and I doubt it,” Dimitri answered as he sipped his coffee.
“From what I gathered from their conversation, they had just graduated from high school and they were celebrating. What other reason would he have to come here?”
Greer walked back over to him and sat down. “Maybe he might want another tattoo. Or maybe he’d come to see you.”
Dimitri shook his head, remembering the conversation between them in the restroom of the arcade. He didn’t have that kind of luck.
A rich kid would never give him a second thought, not even a drunk one. “Don’t hold your breath. He’s probably going to be a doctor or a Supreme Court Justice.”
“You should have asked him his name.”
“His name is Eli,” Dimitri said. “I heard one of the guys call him that.”
“Cute name,” Greer said. “Biblical. It fits him.” Dimitri rose and began taking out his tools and organizing them in his area. Greer finally finished his coffee and did the same. The doorbell rang about an hour later, putting an end to their conversation.
For now he would only think of Eli as the one who got away. Who knew? Maybe the two of them might see each other again in another life.
* * * *
Eli and the other violinist, Randall Watkins, got out of Mr.
Dubisson’s van and followed their teacher into the French Quarter café. Mr. Dubisson had arranged for them to play for the lunchtime crowd. The café owner was Mr. Dubisson’s childhood friend. The café had just opened its doors for the day and had tourists lined up outside waiting to enter. Mr. Dubisson’s friend was very glad to meet them. He showed the young men where to set up. They had a prime spot, outside in the courtyard, facing the street traffic.
He and Randall set up quickly and began to play. Within minutes they drew attention and people started gathering to hear them. Others entered the café, got their food, and sat down at the green tables in the courtyard. By one that afternoon the restaurant had lots of customers and the tip jar Mr. Dubisson had set up for them overflowed with money. He and Randall knew beforehand that the money they raised would go into a fund to help buy instruments for underprivileged kids.
Both he and Randall came from two prominent New Orleans families and didn’t need the money. But neither had a problem helping out when they could. They’d done mini-concerts like this before since they were kids, and they loved entertaining. Once he landed a job with an orchestra, he’d look back on the experience as something positive in his life.
* * * *
“I’m hungry,” Dimitri said around one. “I think I’m stopping for lunch. Would you care to join me?”
Greer nodded.
They had worked on several tattoos that morning and they didn’t have anyone coming in until three. Jose had arrived and could watch the parlor for them.
“Where would you like to go?” Greer asked.
Dimitri shrugged. With so many great restaurants in the area, it was hard to choose. “I have a craving for seafood.”
“Then let’s go to Tulsa. They have great seafood and live music performances during lunch. Today they’re supposed to have two violinists entertaining.”
Their shop was located a couple of blocks away from Decatur Street so they could get there on foot. Violinists? He loved violin music. He’d taken lessons as a child but gave it up when the lessons got too expensive. “Let’s go check them out.” The French Quarter was alive with tourists, street entertainers, and horse-and-buggy carriages. The scent of beer and the seafood was in the air as they walked by some of the local artists drawing pictures in Jackson Square. A puppeteer performed for a group of people near the Riverwalk, and people dined at Café Du Monde while two young women sang for them.
The sound of dueling violins guided them to the sidewalk right outside the Tulsa Café. In all honesty Dimitri didn’t really believe
