Page 27 of Cognac Secrets

“Thank you,” I said in practically unison with Sandrine who smiled at me and said, “Jinx, you owe me a Coke.”

“A Coke for the lady,” I said with a smile to the waitress. “I’ll have one, too.”

“I’ll tell your server,” the hostess said with a smile, and went back out front, catching a young man by the sleeve and pointing in our direction, relaying our drink order.

“Hope you actually wanted Coke,” I said and Sandrine laughed.

“I did. It’s all good,” she said.

“I didn’t expect her to just take my word for it,” I told her. “She didn’t even look your direction.”

She grinned and said, “Probably the jacket, no?”

“Shit, I guess so. I didn’t think about it.”

“It’s all good, like I said.”

“You’re too nice,” I said, and she laughed at that.

“So I’ve been told, but I really do have a not-so-nice side, too.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s she like?” I asked.

She looked at the table and said, “I really hope you never have to find out.”

“That’s fair,” I said. “Same with me.”

“I imagine you have to have a not-so-nice side to ride with the Voodoo Bastards.” She slid her silverware off her napkin and draped her lap with it.

“Our reputation precedes us,” I said gravely.

“It does,” she said carefully.

“Friends worried about you?” I asked.

“Some,” she confided. I didn’t know why that stung a little, but it did.

“You don’t have anything to worry about from us. You know that right?”

“Really?” she asked. “Why?”

“Respect,” I said. “We respect you because you respected us. Treated me with grace when you didn’t have to. Took care of me and went the extra mile when you definitely didn’t have to. You don’t have anything to worry about from any of us because you earned our respect. If anything, anyone around you has to low key worry about making sure they treat you with the respect you deserve.”

She searched my face over the wavering oil light sitting in the center of the table and said, “That’s very sweet of you to say, but I just really try to treat everyone the way I want to be treated. That’s all…”

I considered her, and that haunted secret agony, that private pain was shining in her bright green eyes. As though she silently called out for some kind of mercy that she longed for but had never received. I felt that. The world was a fucked-up place. I had a feeling it hadn’t been kind to sweet Sandrine.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, curiously, after our drinks had been set down and we’d been asked if we were ready to order.

I’d asked for a little more time, having forgotten to look at the menu for getting stuck on looking at her. There were more and more things about her that I picked out the longer I looked at her and listened to her. She was beautiful in her own right, apart from Mia, in so many ways. The more I looked at her, the more confused I became at how I ever confused her for Mia in the first place.

I decided to be honest in answer to her question.

“I’m wondering how I ever could have confused you for Mia,” I said.

“What did she look like?” she asked softly, hesitantly, as though she felt awkward to ask. It was fine. It was only natural to be curious about it.

I opened up my phone and the folder with all the photos of Mia… of her and I together, and I went to my favorite one. The one of her in my shirt, leaning over the railing on a Sunday early morning, the sun just beginning to rise over the city, streaking the sky in pale blue and peach on the horizon.

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