No Quarter (NOLA's Own #2) (27 page)

BOOK: No Quarter (NOLA's Own #2)
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Dorothy, the ancient server who had worked here for quite possibly her entire one hundred and seven years, shuffled up and took our drink order—three iced teas. Da got his sweet. Her white as snow hair looked like a giant cotton ball, and her thin skin was covered with age spots, but her brown eyes were bright and clear, and she always had a smile on her face.

Phil ordered his favorite appetizer of fried alligator.

“So, Phil, ye said ye just go’ back. From where?”

“Oh, we’ve been on tour and recording for the last five years. Mostly in Europe, but we just wrapped up our final world tour in South America.”

“Kenna mentioned ye’re a musician.”

Phil nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Me son Connor is a musician, too. I’ve just worked my ass off for the last three years to put ’im through the bluidy University of Miami to teach kids the recorder—”

“Da!” I barked as I glared at my father.

“Wha’? Ye know it’s true!”

Dorothy dropped off our iced teas, and we all ordered ribs and fries with coleslaw. Slowly, she scuttled her bony rump back to the kitchen to hand over the order and wait for the alligator. It wasn’t busy in here. There were only two other people having lunch, and they were on the opposite side of the restaurant.

“What kind of music do ye play?”

“I’m the lead singer for a metal band, but we’re tryin’ out new sounds now that our contract with our record label is about to expire.”

“Kenna and Connor music then,” scoffed Da. “What’s yer range? Baritone?”

“Yes, sir.”

Da nodded. “What’s yer band’s name?”

Phil blushed slightly and squeezed my hand beneath the table. “NOLA’s Junk.”

Da perked up. “The ‘Louisiana Baby’ band?”

Phil looked a little surprised. “Yes, sir.”

“I love tha’ song. Tha’s wha’ ye sings?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wow.”

Dorothy tottered up with a massive plate of fried alligator bites and dipping sauce.

“He also plays instruments,” I volunteered this information since it seemed Phil had forgotten how to say anything other than,
Yes, sir
.

“Wha’ do ye play, Phil?”

Phil had just filled his face with fried alligator, and he started chewing furiously, chugging back some iced tea to wash it down. “Guitar, bass, drums, violin, and piano. My dad made sure I was classically trained.”

“Did ye train your voice, too?”

“No, sir. That happened all on its own.”

“So, I suppose ye’ve done quite well for yerself? Don’t have to worry ’boot ye takin’ advantage o’ me daughter?”

“Da!” I barked again.

“Wha’?”

“That’s rude!”

“So? I’m just makin’ sure ye’re not gonna end up supportin’ his giant arse!”

“I’m quite well off, sir,” assured Phil.

“See? He understands. ’Tis all I needed to hear.”

“I already told you that he does well enough for himself!” I hissed.

“Yeah, but I wanted tae hear it from ’im.”

Phil squeezed my hand again.

“An’ it’s no’ like I can scare the bloke—”

“I’m well and truly terrified of you, sir,” stated Phil.

“Are ye now? Why’s tha’?”

Phil looked down on me, his eyes shining, pupils expanding. “Because I love your daughter very much. She’s my whole life, and I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t like me. I don’t want her to be unhappy, and I know how much her family means to her.”

Well, if that’s not the way to a father’s crusty old heart, I’m not sure one exists.

“No worries, son,” Da said gruffly. “I can see how happy ye make her. And it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her so carefree.”

Phil’s shining eyes turned to my da. “She’s the most amazin’ person I’ve ever met.”

Da smiled. “Tha’ she is. So, how’d you two meet? Crossed paths while mowin’ th’ yard?”

“We met on my eighteenth birthday,” I piped. “NOLA’s Junk had just finished their set, and Phil and X—that’s the bassist—came up and started chatting with us.”

“Kenna was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. She completely stole my heart when I heard her laugh, and her smile lit up my whole world.”

Way to lay it on thick, Deveraux,
I thought dryly.

“Lili, Alys, and I ended up getting kicked out when they went to sign their record deal.” I went on with the practical part of the story. “We didn’t see each other again for about a year, and that was at the Twisted Festivus Tour five years ago.”

“We had just finished that show, and I saw her in the crowd,” said Phil, his eyes swinging back on me. “I had spent the whole year lookin’ for her and only found her again when we were leavin’ on our first European tour.”

“And then four weeks ago, the drummer—Flipper—came into the clinic. He had injured his shoulder and needed to be well for their final show at the stadium, so I fixed him, and he recognized me. He invited me and Alys and Lili to the party at Phil’s place after the concert.”

“We’ve been together ever since,” Phil said, his face going full-blown Lady Killer.

Da threw me a shrewd look. “Tha’ song…it’s aboot ye, isn’t it?”

“‘Louisiana Baby’?” I asked.

“It is, sir. Actually, many of our songs are about her in some way, not that the guys know it though. I think Jason—he’s the guitarist—would have a heart attack if he ever found out that most of our songs are based on my undyin’ devotion to a girl I once met at a gig.”

Dorothy came out, carrying a single plate of ribs, followed by the cook carrying the rest of our order.

“I gotta—I had a lot of iced tea,” Phil said, standing up, as his plate was set down. Kissing the top of my head, he told me softly, “I’ll be right back.”

When he disappeared into the restroom, Da leaned across the table and whispered, “Wha’ ha’e ye done t’ tha’ puir lad?”

“Nothing he hasn’t done to me,” I retorted. Then, I turned bright red because that could be taken several different ways.

Da caught on to my train of thought. “
Kenna
!”

“What?” I snapped, blushing harder.

“Damn. He’s got it bad fer ye. Are ye sure yer up fer this?”

“I don’t have a choice, Da. It’s only ever been him.”

Da nodded in understanding. “He’s why ye never really dated—after that Jaime fellow, that is.”

“I suppose so.”

Da cleared his throat and sat back as Phil returned and plopped down next to me once more. Grabbing a rib, Phil began tearing into his food.

“So, famous musician and all tha’, I suppose ye’ve done yer fair share of drugs and drinkin’?” Da casually asked.

“I’ve tried some stuff in the past, sir. I’m not too keen on it. I need to have a straight head to write and perform.”

“So, ye don’t do drugs?”

“Just weed, Da,” I supplied, not wanting to put Phil on the spot.

“Weed ain’t a drug. It’s a weed.”

“No, sir, I don’t do drugs. And I don’t really drink either. My mother died of alcoholism, and from what I remember, she was a mean drunk. I wouldn’t want to put my loved ones through somethin’ like that.”

Da’s eyes went wide, and he stared at Phil for a moment. “Ye’re
that
boy.”

Phil’s eyebrows reached for the sky. “Sir?”

“The Christmas when Laurie took Kenna to her gran’s. Ye’re that little man who followed her around. Laurie told me all about ye, how ye just fell head o’er heels fer Kenna and called her yer—”

“Baby Girl,” finished Phil, his smile bright and blinding. “Yes, sir. To this day, that’s my favorite Christmas. I never forgot that little girl, and I was devastated when she had to leave.”

Da’s jaw dropped. “I’ll be damned.”

“Feeling all right, Da?”

Da’s gaze pinned me. “
She knew
!”

I just nodded, not really willing to discuss my mother’s weird ability to predict shit, and I thought Da understood that. It wasn’t like Phil didn’t know about her. It was just…not out at lunch while in broad daylight. It wasn’t something she herself had advertised, so I’d rather not discuss her like this.

“Who knew what?” asked Phil, looking between Da and me.

I felt something rising inside him, like irritation and…disappointment. He was upset because I was hiding something from him.

My father gave me a look, and after a few seconds, I shrugged.

“Kenna’s mother, Laurie, knew tha’ th’ two o’ ye were meant fer each other,” Da said quietly.

I thought he was waiting for Phil to scoff or make some sort of stink.

Phil said, “So did I.”

“No shit,” breathed Da.

“Da? You sure you’re feeling okay?”
Two curse words in one day? Who
is
this man?

“I was even more devastated the night I found her again and lost her after a couple of hours. I’d been searchin’ for her ever since.”

“Well, ye’ve found each other now,” said Da.

Phil smiled. “And I ain’t ever lettin’ go,” he told me softly.

Lunch turned out to be pretty great. Phil relaxed completely and was happily answering any questions Da felt the need to grill him with. Da ended up calling him son a few more times, so I guessed Phil had totally won him over.

“So, ye’re headin’ out o’ town tonight, too?” Da asked him.

“Me and Jason have a radio interview in Lafayette.
The Mad for Metal
weekly spot from ten to midnight.”

Da asked which station, and Phil told him.

“I’ll tune in then. Might no’ be able to listen tae some o’ tha’ stuff tha’s played. I’m old, grew up wi’ th’ classics.”

“Our biggest influence is Led Zeppelin,” Phil told him with a grin.

Da sat back and rubbed his full belly, digging at his teeth with a toothpick. He looked alarmed when Phil ordered a piece of coconut-key-lime pie for dessert.

“This is nothing,” I informed him as Phil made one more trip to the bathroom before the pie showed up.

“He ate half o’ yer food, too!”

“Yeah, but he always waits until I’m full before having at it.”

Da let loose a hearty guffaw. “I guess he needs the calories. Jaysus, ye found the biggest mon on th’ planet, Kenna. An’ he pees a lot.”

“Nah, not really. I think he was really nervous, and he drank a lot of tea on top of it.”

Dorothy brought the pie and three forks.

“Think he’ll share tha’?”

“I think he’d be happy to.”

Da and I stole a bite each before Phil came back. If he noticed a third of his pie gone, he said nothing about it, and he finished it in four bites.

“I’ll go get Dorothy then,” said Da. “No need tae make the puir dinosaur hobble back o’er here—”

“Oh, um…I already took care of the check, sir,” Phil said.

I wasn’t surprised, but Da’s eyebrows were trying to crawl into his graying hair.

“Ye did wha’ noo?”

“I paid the check,” repeated Phil, blushing slightly.

“But…
I
invited y’all.”

“Don’t make a big deal about it, Da. If he’s here, he always pays. Get used to it.”

Phil grinned and winked at me.

“Well, thanks, son.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

“Oh, fer the love o’ all tha’ is holy! Enough wi’ th’ sirs. I dinna need tae be reminded tha’ I’m bluidy old! Call me Sig.”

“Or Da,” I stated with a grin.

“Aye, that’ll do,” said Da.

Phil swelled up next to me with pure joy.

Out in the lot, Da just
had
to get a closer look at the Black Beauty before he let us leave. He and Phil talked about classic cars for a few minutes before I got another great Papa Bear hug, and Da clapped Phil between the shoulder blades.

“Ye take good care of m’ sweet lass, or ye’ll be answerin’ tae me.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Phil.

Looking at me, Da rubbed his knuckles over my cheek. “I’ll call ye when I’m back.”

“That went really well,” said Phil happily.

“I told you.”

“His accent ain’t as heavy as I thought it’d be.”

“You should hear my grandparents. I don’t even think they speak English. But he’s been here for nearly thirty years, so it’s mellowed. It was really thick when I was a kid.”

Heading back home, Phil kept his hand on my thigh, and he had a huge grin on his face the whole drive.

“So, where are you and Jason sleeping tonight? A hotel?”

“Nah, we’re bunkin’ at Darren’s place.”

“The tattooist?”

“Yeah. We all went to school together. When Sheri got in touch with him, he offered to have us over. That way, when we get up in the mornin’, he and I’ll just head for the shop.”

“What about Jason?”

Phil shrugged. “Maybe someone else will have availability to tattoo him. He’s been itchin’ for more ink.”

“What are you getting?”

His smile turned to a smirk. “You’ll see.”

“You won’t tell me?”

“Nope. I want it to be a surprise. It’s somethin’ I’ve wanted for a long fuckin’ while though, and I’ve been waitin’ for just the right time to do it. And it has to be Darren who does it.”

“Where is it going?”

“That’s a surprise, too.”

“Ass!”

“I am. Absolutely. And you love me for it.”

“I don’t know about all that,” I huffed with irritation.

“Liar. You love it that I keep a little bit of mystery in our relationship.”

“Is that what this is?”

“Sure. It makes it a little sexier, you know?”

BOOK: No Quarter (NOLA's Own #2)
6.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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