Dark Perception: The Corde Noire Series (4 page)

“
Then what’s he interested
in? Your musical ability?”

“
I only read for
him.”

Jack shook his head and laughed, but
Melinda did not hear music when he laughed this time. It was a
cruel sound that rattled her nerves.

“
You’re not that naive,
Maddie. Did you see how he couldn’t keep his eyes off you? He wants
you, and my bet is he will say anything and do anything to get
you.”

Melinda clenched her fist around her
keys and turned for the door. “You’re just saying that!”

“
You may not be able to see
your future, Maddie, but I can. You’ll go to him, and then you’ll
see just how cruel a man can be.”

Melinda shoved her key into the lock
and struggled to open it. As she wiggled the key, Jack slapped his
hand on the door a few inches away from her face.

“
I know I won’t change your
mind, but just remember I’ll always be here when you need
me.”

He pushed away from the door and
Melinda heard his footfalls on the pavement behind her. When she
finally twisted around, she saw him walking quickly down the
street. Melinda fought the urge to call out to him, to try and
placate his anger, because she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Jack
was about as temperamental as a rabid raccoon.

“
I’ll show you, Jack
Deron.” Melinda kicked open the door. “You’re lousy at predicting
the future.”

Chapter 3

Over the course of the next few days,
Melinda busied herself with late night gigs in a few hotels, and
working on her music during the day. She stayed away from Jackson
Square, not wanting to see Jack again. After their last
confrontation, Melinda decided it would be best if they spent some
time apart, even though Jack was proving to be a hard habit for her
to shake.

His constant visits to her table on
the Square, followed by their evening walks back to her apartment,
had become the highlights of her day. But no matter how many times
she caught herself daydreaming about his smile, his hazel eyes, or
his seductive mannerisms, Melinda was determined not to begin a
relationship with Jack. After the pain Josh had put her through,
she swore she would never let another man into her
heart.

Melinda raised her eyes from her
keyboard and glanced out her window. Fat raindrops were colliding
with the cement courtyard just outside her apartment. As she
listened to the heavy rainfall, Jack’s words came back to
her.

She scanned the cramped bedroom she
had painted a pale shade of pink right after moving in. Her
twin-sized bed was crammed against the far wall next to her oak
dresser. Her bathroom door was pressed against her dresser, and
inside she could see the old-fashioned beige pedestal sink and
claw-footed bathtub with its rickety shower curtain. There was only
enough space left in her bedroom for her keyboard, some second-hand
recording equipment, and a chair.

Melinda stood from the stool next to
her keyboard and stretched out her achy back. Picking up her coffee
mug, she made her way into the living room, just beyond her bedroom
door. The only furniture she had was a used green sofa and a desk
where she kept her laptop. A corner of the living room was
dedicated to an efficiency kitchen with a small refrigerator, hot
plate, sink, and makeshift pantry made out of a bookcase and some
old shutters.

Sighing as she gazed about her
depressing apartment, Melinda was acutely aware that everything she
possessed in the world was housed in those two small rooms. She
knew she lived modestly, but never before had Melinda realized she
was living so shabbily.

“
Jack was right. I can’t go
on living like this.”

A knock at the front door snapped
Melinda out of her doldrums. When she opened the heavy cypress
door, a thick, muscular man with short-cropped blond hair was
grinning back at her with bloodshot brown eyes.

“
Hey, baby.”

“
Mike. What are you doing
here?” Melinda self-consciously pulled at the blue terrycloth robe
she had on over her nightshirt.

Mike walked through the door and
planted a wet kiss on her lips. Stepping away from him, Melinda
wasn’t sure what to make of his dark blue suit and the way his
thick neck bulged over the collar of his pressed white
shirt.

“
Why are you dressed like
that?”

“
I came to take you out.
We’re gonna celebrate.”

Melinda detected the whiskey on Mike’s
breath. “Smells like you’ve already been celebrating. How about
some coffee, instead?”

“
Nah,” Mike replied with a
scrunched up grin. “I’m fine.” He put his arms around her waist and
yanked her close. “Let’s you and me go out and have some
fun.”

Melinda patted her hand against his
muscular chest. Then, she felt it—that slight nudge that something
had changed with him. “You’ve received some news.”

“
I love it when you get all
psychic on me. The Zephyrs extended my contract for two more years.
Just like you said they would. Looks like I’ll be in New Orleans
for a while.”

“
Mike, that’s wonderful!”
Melinda clapped her hands. “I knew they would want to keep you. I
felt it.”

Mike nuzzled her cheek. “I’m gonna
take you to one of them fancy places you’re always goin’ on
about.”

Melinda unfurled herself from his
arms. “Where?”

“
The Grill Room. I made us
reservations as soon as I found out about my new contract
deal.”

She stood back from him, frowning.
“But I … I don’t have anything to wear to the Grill
Room.”

Mike shrugged his hulking shoulders.
“You got a dress, don’t’ ya?”

“
It’s not dressy. Just kind
of plain.”

“
Well, it’s a dress, ain’t
it? Who cares if it’s fancy or plain? If you’re with me, baby,
it’ll be just fine.” He ran his fingers over the outline of her
hips. “Go and get dressed, before I get other ideas.”

Melinda recoiled from his touch.
“I’ll, ah, just go and change.”

When she turned for her bedroom door,
Mike called out to her, “You got anythin’ to drink around
here?”

Melinda cringed, knowing that with
Mike one drink usually led to a whole lot more. “Check the bottom
of the pantry. I think I’ve got a bottle of Zinfandel
there.”

“
Wine? You ain’t got
nothin’ stronger?”

“
No,” Melinda affirmed as
she walked into her bedroom. Before she shut the door, she stuck
her head out and glanced over at him. “I won’t be long.”

Mike stepped toward her kitchen. “You
and me were meant to be together, baby. With my skills, and your
psychic ability guidin’ me, there’s no tellin’ how far I can
go.”

Securely behind her closed bedroom
door, Melinda rested her back against it and sighed. How was she
going to be able to get through an evening with an already tipsy
Mike Johnson?

I really need to find
another guy.

* * *

The Grill Room was located in the
prestigious Windsor Court Hotel in downtown New Orleans. As they
entered the elegant lobby with its Queen Anne furniture and crystal
chandeliers, Melinda felt like a princess. Glancing over at Mike,
she realized the only thing missing was her Prince
Charming.

The entrance to the restaurant was a
wide room with a casual yet elegant décor with gold, beige, and
rich brown furnishings sitting on a regal taupe carpet. On the
walls, several scenic landscapes of raging rivers and dense woods
added a touch of refinement to the atmosphere. A scattering of
brass reading lamps and mahogany end tables made Melinda feel as if
she were entering a private home, not a four-star restaurant. But
her edgy nerves soon began to fray when she noted the way all eyes
in the room quickly focused on her.

The black cocktail dress she had
chosen for dinner appeared appropriate enough, considering most of
the other hotel guests were casually attired, but it was the man on
her arm who seemed to be the brunt of several awkward
stares.

Mike had finished half the bottle of
Zinfandel by the time Melinda emerged from her bedroom, and as they
exited the cab they had taken to the hotel, she became painfully
aware that Mike was more inebriated than she’d thought. He was
leaning heavily on her arm as they stood in the lobby, and his face
was a bright shade of red.

“
Are you okay?” Melinda
questioned as they waited before a podium at the restaurant
entrance.

“
Fine,” he replied a little
too loudly. “Just want to get a seat so we can eat some
dinner.”

“
Mike, you need to lower
your voice.”

“
Why?” he shouted. “It’s
just another chow joint like every other in the city. Nothin’
special about this place, sweetheart.”

“
Mike, please. You
need—”

“
Can I help you?” a man
with bushy black eyebrows and long sideburns asked as he stepped
behind the podium. In a tailored black suit with a gray silk tie,
he wore a dark nametag with “Emile” embossed in gold.

“
A table for two, my
friend,” Mike pronounced loud enough for several patrons already
seated inside the restaurant to turn their heads. “We have a
reservation.”

“
Of course, sir, but could
you please keep your voice down,” Emile requested as he collected
two menus from a table next to his podium.

“
I can talk any way I
want,” Mike blurted out.

Melinda’s stomach knotted into a tight
ball. “Mike, enough,” she warned, letting go of his arm.

The force of Melinda’s gesture was
just enough to push an already unsteady Mike to the side. Unable to
stop his momentum, Mike easily tipped over and went crashing to the
floor. To Melinda’s surprise, instead of getting angry, Mike let
out a roar of laughter.

“
I’m going to have to
insist you take your man and go somewhere else for dinner,” Emile
maintained in a firm tone.

Melinda went to Mike’s side and tried
to help him from the floor. “Come on, Mike. Let’s get you out of
here.”

But just as she was about to put her
arm around his waist to help him up, Mike batted her away. Melinda
went flying to the floor.

“
Ma’am, are you all right?”
Emile rushed to her aid.

“
Melinda!” Mike cried out
as he scurried on his knees to her side.

Melinda struggled to her feet, helped
by the gracious Emile. But when Mike came crawling up to her, she
thought her embarrassment complete.

“
You need to get him out of
here,” Emile whispered to her.

“
Melinda, baby, are you
okay? I didn’t mean it. You know your Mikey would never hurt you,”
Mike babbled at her feet.

Melinda glared at his pitiful figure.
“Get up! You’re drunk.”

“
Don’t talk to me like
that,” he snarled while getting to his feet.

“
How should I talk to you?
You’re making a fool of yourself.”

“
You bitch!” Mike
shouted.

“
That’s enough!” Emile came
forward and placed his body between Mike and Melinda. “Sir, you
need to go!”

“
I’m not going anywhere!”
Mike hissed.

Out of nowhere, two men—a lot bigger
and taller than Mike—appeared at Emile’s side. They were both
wearing dark blue security uniforms with the hotel emblem
embroidered into their shirts.

Mike snickered at the guards. “You
think you two are gonna push me around? I bench two-eighty,
assholes.”

“
Sir, you need to come with
us,” the shorter of the two guards ordered. “If we have to, we will
use force to remove you from the premises.”

As Mike began to spew a litany of
curse words, Emile gently eased Melinda to the side of his podium.
“Stay here.”

Melinda watched in horror as the two
security guards closed in on Mike and wrapped their arms around
him. At first, Mike struggled like hell, but the men obviously knew
how to handle the unruly customer. They worked in unison, lifting
Mike from the floor by the elbows. Screaming profanities and
wriggling with refusal, Mike was swiftly carried out of the
restaurant entrance and into the hotel lobby. It took several
moments for his hollering to fade away.

When the restaurant entrance was once
again peaceful, Emile returned to Melinda. “Can I call you a
cab?”

“
That won’t be necessary,
Emile,” a man’s sultry voice proclaimed behind them.

Melinda discovered Nathan Cole
standing just inside the restaurant entrance.

“
Nathan!” Melinda
exclaimed, feeling more relieved than ever to see the handsome
man.

“
Mr. Cole, do you know this
lady?” Emile inquired.

Nathan nodded as he placed his hands
in the trouser pockets of his dark blue suit. “She’s with me,
Emile.”

Emile bowed his head graciously. “Yes,
sir.”

As Melinda walked toward Nathan, she
noted the way his hair glistened in the low light. The queasiness
that had gripped her stomach since Mike’s display began to ease and
another sensation took over. It was that funny tickling that always
flared up whenever Nathan was near.