Page 13 of The Big Easy & Other Lies
Bran cleared his throat. “Anything else we can do for you?”
Angelique’s expression softened until she looked thoughtful. “You know, I do think I should have a nibble of something before I eat dessert. Camille, would you mind running back and getting me a mini-quiche and a lobster roll?”
I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t ashamed I had a job serving food, but she was trying to make me feel like I should be by keeping me at her beck and call. Rather than say anything, I forced a smile and retreated back into the house. She wasn’t going to be happy until I personally served her.
I’d do it. But I’d do it my way.
Chapter 6
“Classic Angelique,” Bran said, following me into the kitchen.
“I really kind of hate her,” I said, setting my tray down too hard, annoyed at nearly being caught in one of Angelique’s perfectly executed traps: set up a situation that drew negative attention to me while she walked out smelling like a rose.
Bran offered me a sympathetic smile and a new tray. I scooped the mini quiches and lobster rolls on it and then exited the kitchen from the opposite direction of the porch, searching for the one room in the house I knew would be empty: the library.
A lot of fancy homes had them, and they all looked the same: dark paneling, floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked with untouched leather-bound books, heavy armchairs trimmed with brass furniture tacks, and no one ever inside them. I found the LeBlanc’s library and slipped in, pulling the door shut before picking up a lobster roll, licking the bottom, and setting it back on the tray.
It cheered me immediately, and I had licked two more lobster rolls and a quiche when the plink of piano keys startled me and I screeched, whirling and sending the appetizers flying. The piano was across the room, and with the lid up I couldn’t see who sat behind it.
Crap. Crappity crap crap.
“Sorry to scare you,” said a male voice. It sounded kinda deep but young. I knelt and shoveled quiches onto the tray, eager to escape. The old guys were the worst ones for getting handsy, but the young guys weren’t above trying to hit on the hired help, either—especially if they’d been sneaking some Jack in their Coke.
“Let me get those,” he said. He leaned around the piano but in the dim light, I could only see his thin outline.
“No, that’s okay,” I said, desperate to escape. “I’m almost done.”
He stood and walked toward me anyway, but I didn’t look up. Mortification stained my cheeks red and I didn’t need a witness.
“What kind of appetizers are these?” he asked as he knelt to pluck up the last few.
“Quiches. And lobster rolls,” I said.
“They must be good for you to lick them all.”
My head shot up, and I had the fleeting impression of light eyes and a smile. “I was just adding the secret sauce,” I said before I fled for the door with the sound of his surprised laugh following me.
“I’ll take some on your next pass,” he called as I reached the hallway. “But without the secret sauce.”
I poked my head back in. “Not to brag, but it’s the best part.” I prayed my joking would be enough to keep him from telling on me. “I really was going to eat all of those myself. I just had to test them and see which one to start with first.”
“I think I’d still rather have mine sauceless,” he said. His voice sounded cool, low and kind of scratchy, but his words scraped along my nerve endings as I hurried away. How was I supposed to go back after he’d caught me licking the bottom of all the appetizers?
But maybe I had to go back. If I didn’t, he might rat me out to Angelique or Miss Annie.
Double crap. What to do? Maybe explain myself for real?
It wasn’t exactly a normal conversation to have with a party guest. Conversations while catering usually went this way:
Me: Appetizer?
Guest: Yes. (Or no).
End scene.
What was I going to say to him now? That I had licked the appetizers I intended to serve to his hostess and the jerks on the verandah with her, and I wasn’t really sorry about it? Oh, this was so, so bad.
In the kitchen, I crossed paths with Bran who was loading up a tray with crawfish beignets and bacon-wrapped stuffed jalapenos. My mouth watered for a beignet, a Creole-style donut, so I grabbed one, wondering if it would agree with my anxious belly.
