Someone Bad and Something Blue (6 page)

 

D
ouceur de France sat around the corner from DuPre's Antique Market in Marietta in the shopping center that used to house Kirk's Supermarket. The building had been painted powdered-sugar white and navy blue. It was very clean, minimalist, and chic. Now, the Marietta loop didn't look so Southern, but like a snapshot of Paris. The outside café tables further enhanced the ambience. However, it was too cold in March to be having brunch outside.

We went inside and it looked like puff pastry palace: éclairs, Napoleons, tiramisu, petit fours, just from first glance. My mouth watered at the sight of a huge white chocolate and raspberry sour cream pound cake.

Lana waved us over. She and the rest of the bridal party (three other girls whose names escaped me) had already found two tables for us. Everyone else ordered something with eggs and heavy cream, but I ordered le pain perdu, French toast. However, this breakfast wasn't the kind you stuck in a toaster. No. It was a slice of brioche hand-dipped in crème brûlée butter, then topped with strawberries, bananas, and whipped cream. Ooh la la!

While I enjoyed my meal, Lana touched my shoulder. “Angel, do you want to be a bridesmaid in my wedding?”

Lana was Elaine's only daughter. I had baby-sat her while I was in undergrad. She and Whitney became best friends after that. However, since we'd moved away from the perimeter, I hadn't seen her as much. Now she was getting married. Time flies stupid fast.

I shook my head. My mouth, tongue, and thoughts were all on that French toast. “No.”

“But why?” She pouted.

I looked over at her. Fruit syrup dripped from my lip. I stopped chewing. “Because I'm too old to be a bridesmaid.”

“You're not old and you definitely don't look it.”

“I accept that compliment. Thank you.” I wiped my mouth with a handkerchief. “But weddings and I aren't friends.”

“Why?” Lana looked from me to Whitney and back. Her blond ponytail bobbed every time she turned.

Whitney chimed in. “For some reason she's always seated by snooty women who flaunt their marital status around her as if she should feel bad for being single.”

“Gee, thanks. I need my little sister to defend me . . . er . . . embarrass me,” I scoffed.

“I'm sorry, Angel,” Lana continued. “But if I make sure you're seated by people more down to earth, would you at least come to the wedding?”

“Is the reception adult only?” I asked.

“It is, but we're having a separate party for the children. Mom's procured a magician, an au pair, puppets, and a live band to keep them entertained. Isabella would have a ball.”

Wow. Big money Elaine.
“How could I pass that up? Send me an invitation.”

Lana clapped using her fingertips. Her blue eyes blazed in delight. “Should I add a plus one for Reverend Justus Morgan?”

“Put him down,” Mom said.

The girls squealed; Mom squealed the loudest. My heart fluttered at the thought of Justus in a tux.

“But if he sees your hair like this, he'll say ‘no' for sure,” Whitney reminded us.

I threw my hands over my head. “Mama . . .”

“Oh dear. We need to go.” Mom threw her napkin on her plate and hopped up. “Let me clear the tab. Girls, you can hang here as long as you like.... Whitney, you, too.”

Whitney rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Mama.”

“Angel, can you join us for The Running of the Brides? It would be fun.”

The Running of the Brides or ROTB began in 1947 in Boston when the retailer Filene's decided to host a one-day bridal gown sale. Brides who participated in the event got the chance to purchase designer wedding gowns at a fraction of the cost. So of course the ROTB was a hit. Now the event was a national treasure and sprinkled in stores across the country like Buckhead Atlanta, where Gabe was murdered.

“Oh, nooo.” I chuckled dryly. “Besides, since I'm not working this Saturday, I'll have double duty next weekend.”

My phone buzzed. I looked down. It was Tiger. A chill ran down my spine.

“Speak of the devil.” I stood up. “Ladies, it's been real, but I need to get this.”

They waved good-bye. I walked outside to take his call while Mom finished up inside.

I put the phone to my ear. “Hey, Tiger. Look, I know you're mad—”

“Angel, didn't I tell you to leave it alone?” he shouted. “Didn't I tell you it was handled?”

“I heard you, but you know me. I needed to see Marlo. I needed to see myself.”

“Yourself? Yourself?!” His voice grew louder. I moved the phone from my ear and put him on speaker instead. “See, that's your problem. You're not a lone wolf. What you say and do affects other people. What you did affected me.”

“How did I telling Marlo and Riddick that I was taking them to court hurt you? They hurt me, not you.”

“Rid and I got biz together. . . .” He paused. “You almost jacked that up for me today.”

My head began to swim a few seconds after his words traveled through me. “What do you mean you work together?”

“Come on, Angel. This is Georgia. There are some places I still can't go unless I bring someone like Riddick in there with me. This is business. Plain and simple.”

Rage bubbled inside me. I held onto one of the storefront's white pillars to keep from throwing something. “Did you tell them to do this to me? Is that why you knew what happened?”

“Angel, do you still have a concussion? Why would you ask me something like that? I've had your back when nobody did. I'm the one that dragged you out of that bar without us getting killed, and I'm the one that told you what went down.” His voice grew louder after each sentence. “I'm the one who gave you a job when your own sister shamed you in front of the entire city. I'm the one, some seven years later, who is still scouring these dirty streets looking for the person that killed Bella's father.”

“Don't you go there. Don't you dare go there! The only reason I went to the Draft House—to have the side of my head sliced, by the way—was because of a phone call you made to ME!”

“Ang!” He said something under his breath then cleared his throat. “Before you say something more stupid than the last thing you just said, let's take a break and regroup.”

“Yes, let's.” I huffed.

Mama stepped outside and stood beside me. “What's going on?”

I shook my head as if to say “nothing” and waved her to meet me at the car with JJ. She pointed at her watch and mouthed two minutes.

“Tiger, I think—”

“You need to go on that vacation I suggested yesterday.”

I frowned. “Vacation? What are you talking about?”

“You heard me. I need things to settle down on my end and you're going to take that break—at my expense, of course. Take Bella to Disney World or something.”

“The kids are about to begin standardized tests soon. No.”

“Oh yeah! Do that PI class. This would be good for you. How long is the class?”

“I don't know, one hundred hours.”

“Good, take two weeks. If you need a third week, you've earned it. I can give you that.”

A three-week vacation?
I frowned. There had to be more going on that he wasn't telling me. However, I knew Tiger wasn't sharing. There was more to this Riddick partnership than met the eye.

“What if I say no?” I asked.

“Grace, you do not understand me,” he said, using my middle name, something I hadn't heard since my dad was alive. Yep, something was definitely up. “If you don't, then this break will be your contract termination with BT Trusted Bail Bonds. Our contract ends in a few days and I can't lose Rid over this thing with you.”

“What?” I screamed. “I haven't done anything wrong, so why am I being punished?”

“You're not . . .” He sighed. “Come on, Angel Soft. You know you're my girl. I'll take care of Rid in my own time, in my own way. But we have to be smart. Remember, this is Georgia. We're not just dealing with convicts, but old demons.”

“Don't do this to me, Tiger.”

“It's for your own good. I've left your money with Ava. I threw in some extra for the baby's birthday. So you take this break. Get your hair fixed. Become a certified private investigator. I promise I'll renew your contract at the end of the month.” And then he hung up.

I stood on the Douceur de France front walk with my mouth gaping open and stared at the phone.

Someone tapped me on my shoulder. I jumped and turned around. It was Lana.

“So does this mean you will be able to go with us to the ROTB?”

She had to be listening to my phone conversation to have made that assumption. She also had to be eating a box of hot rocks, if she thought I was spending my forced vacation playing Wedding Wars.

“No, I have to go,” I said without hesitation and then scurried to Mom's car.

 

A
fter a long Saturday morning and even longer sitting under the hood at Halle's, I took a nap before Justus rang my bell. He hadn't told me where we would be going, but he had assured me that it would be unforgettable. However, when he stepped inside my house, I didn't want us to leave the room.

Justus took my breath away. Again he brought more roses, but he was more handsome than them. He had cut his locks. His sugarcane syrup–colored eyes warmed me up more than before. His smile dazzled even brighter, now that the hair was not in the way.

“A birdie told me that I needed to compliment your gorgeous haircut.”

“You like it?” I rubbed the back of my neck and blushed.

“I love it.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek, then my neck, and then my mouth. “Let's get out of here before I get us into trouble.”

I nodded, but I didn't want to leave.

 

 

 

“I've been told that we need to get there early if we want to be in the running for the best burger on the planet,” Justus said as we pulled into Holeman & Finch Public House.

I nodded and tried to be calm, although I unbuckled my seat belt as fast as I could. I popped the door open, but Justus caught it before my feet hit the pavement. I couldn't get out of Justus's truck fast enough.

Holeman only served twenty-four burgers every night. Although the burger wasn't on the menu, Atlantans piled into Holeman's with the hopes that they would get the gift of eating one of them. Why? Because these weren't your ordinary cheeseburgers so it took a great deal of time to prepare. Two beef patties placed on fresh out the oven buns with pickles, homemade mustard, and Holeman-made ketchup, then surrounded by a bed of—you guessed it—Holeman-made mouthwatering fries.

But the special burger wasn't the only thing that made Holeman & Finch one of the most beloved spots in the state. The food was stupid good. They made everything taste like it was black-market criminal: fish and chips, braised pork and collard greens, cheese grits, pâté, and bacon caramel popcorn that made you almost lose your religion, and fried apple pie, and that's just a sample of what they offered.

It also had a vibe that was part British, part Greek, part soul food . . .

But what I loved more than anything was the pickled banana peppers. They reminded me of the jarred peppers Aunt Frankie had made every summer when Ava and I were children. I had had to keep myself from drooling through the entire drive into Atlanta. It was a good thing I wore foodie jeans.

Justus widened the door and smirked. “I'm beginning to wonder whether you agreed to this date because of the burger instead of me.”

“A woman is strongly attracted to confidence and charm, just like that texted invitation, not a cheeseburger.” I cupped his chiseled jaw with my hands.

His eyes lit up. “Woman, you'll say anything to get into this restaurant.”

The way he looked at me melted me. I couldn't turn off my feelings for him if I tried, but I wasn't ready for anything more than that. I didn't want to be in love again. I was still reaping the misfortune of the last great love of my life.

“Not anything.” I removed my hands. “Trust and know I'm glad I'm here with you.”

“Good, because I've been waiting for this night since I picked you up from Dekalb Medical.”

He was referring to the first day we'd officially met. Whitney had asked him to pick me up from the hospital, but apparently I'd picked him up before we got home.

I blushed. “I knew my tattered peach cocktail dress messed you up.”

“No, running all over Atlanta with you for the five days afterward messed me up.” He opened the gastro pub's door for me.

We laughed and flirted with each other on the way to our table and during appetizers until a chef came from out the kitchen blowing a bullhorn and yelling, “It's burger time!”

When the burgers came, all chatting went out the window. It was nothing but the burger and a few crush-worthy glances. I was having the time of my life.

Our hostess came to our table, but said nothing. I looked up then at Justus. His brow wrinkled.

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and spoke to the young woman. “Is something wrong?”

“I don't mean to disturb you two, but I wanted to let you know that your bill has been paid.”

“By whom?” Justus and I asked in unison.

“The gentleman didn't want to disturb your dinner, but he did say that he wanted Miss Crawford to know that he was glad she was feeling better,” she said.

“Did this person leave a name?” I asked.

“Yes, Riddick Avery.”

“Are you serious? Where is he?” I stood up. “We don't want it. Take it off, please.”

“Ma'am, I can't do that. The bill has been paid,” she said.

“What's going on?” Justus asked. “Who's Riddick Avery?”

“He's the reason I got this haircut and am on forced vacation,” I huffed. “And now he's ruined my night.”

Justus reached over and took my hand in his. “Evangeline Crawford, would you please give me tonight?”

I stopped searching Holeman's and looked at him. His eyes were on me. A hot flash ran through me again.

I sat down slowly. “I'm yours.”

“No, you're not, not like I want you to be.” He grinned.

I lowered my head. “You have got to stop talking to me like that.”

“You started it with that haircut.”

I shook my head. “It's hard to complete a thought when you're so close to me.”

“So what do you do when I offer Communion?”

I gulped. “I pray harder.”

He laughed. “That explains so much.”

“Well, do you have any more questions? Because I'm giving you tonight to ask away, only under one condition.”

“What's that?”

“I want some hot apple pie and crème brûlée for dessert without a sarcastic smirk.” I shrugged. “Tonight's my last night of eating whatever before I begin PI training.”

“Whatever you want, but I need to let you know that I wasn't going to say anything.” He waved the hostess back to the table. “I just want to make you happy.”

The hostess returned.

“I would like to order and pay for dessert before another of my date's admirers or enemies beats me to it.” Justus pulled out his wallet.

I couldn't help but laugh at that. We enjoyed the crème brûlée, but decided to take our pie and eat it somewhere else. Justus had another surprise.