Page 47 of The Big Easy & Other Lies
She rolled her eyes and waved them in. “Bring on the bricks, kiddos.”
An hour later she booted them out again. “I want you to know I’m a real friend,” she said after closing the door. “Because I will be stepping on the ones they missed in the middle of the night for the next month.”
“Youarea real friend,” I said. “Now tell me what to wear.”
Chapter 18
We walked into Boudreau’s at seven. It was a much different crowd than the lunch bunch. Bran waved us over to a table large enough for six. No one else was there yet. He grinned at my outfit. I’d chosen a maxi dress striped in bright yellow and cinched with an old leather belt. A chunky plastic orange necklace topped it off. It was way more color than I usually wore. The bold look suited my mood. “That’s no lagniappe,” he said. “That’s a freaking manifesto.”
The door swished open, and Rhett walked in. He spotted us and made his way over to the seat I patted next to me. “Hi. You look bright.” Then he reddened. “That’s good, I mean. You look nice.”
“Thanks. You, too.” It was an atypically cool September night, and he wore a black zipper jacket open over a white T-shirt and jeans.
Bran’s face suddenly lit up, and Rhett turned to see who he was waving at, his shoulder brushing mine as he did so. I shivered.
“Are you cold?” he asked. “That door lets a draft in.”
I nodded, glad I didn’t have to explain that his touch had short circuited my nerve endings.
He slipped his jacket off and draped it over my shoulders. “Maybe that will help.”
“This’ll work,” I said, unwilling to give up his soap-scented jacket even though I didn’t need it. “Thanks.”
Chloe and Trent showed up within a couple of minutes of each other, and I was glad for all the company. Rhett might be willing to overlook my erratic behavior over the last couple of weeks, but I was glad the pressure of making conversation didn’t fall only to the two of us.
Bran stood up. “They’re slammed,” he said. “I’m going to go order drinks at the counter. Anybody want a Coke?”
“That sounds good,” said Rhett.
“What kind?” Bran asked.
Rhett stared at him blankly.
“Coke means the same thing as soda down here,” I explained. “Do you want an actual Coca-Cola or some other soda?”
“No, I meant an actual Coke,” he said. “Thanks.” He pulled out his wallet, but Bran waved him off. “I got it,” he said, before heading to the counter.
“It’s not all Coke,” Rhett said. “You guys know that, don’t you? It’s not even soda.”
“Then what is it?” I asked.
“Pop.”
“Pop?” It sounded so funny that it set me to laughing, and when Rhett glowered it only made it worse. By the time Bran came back, my sides hurt.
“What’s up?” he asked, smiling.
I pointed at the tray of drinks in his hand. “Rhett calls that pop,” I said with his flat accent and giggled again. Rhett rolled his eyes.
Bran looked more confused than amused. “Pop? That’s funny?”
“I guess you had to be there,” Rhett said. Then he paused a beat and added, “Wait, no. Still not that funny. I think Cam has issues.” He delivered the last part in a loud stage whisper. I attempted to pound his leg lightly, but he caught my hand and held it in place. “Don’t worry about her,” he told Livvie and Trent. “I’m helping her with anger management. She’ll be fine.”
I tugged half-heartedly on my hand, but he didn’t let go.
“Violence is never the answer. Your hand is in timeout to help you learn,” he said.
The manic energy that had ignited my blowup at Delphine still fueled me. The flirtatious looks I sent him came straight from Livvie’s play book, and a thrill of satisfaction went through me when he returned my smiles and “accidental” touches. I felt drunk without doing any drinking.
