Molly

The Napoleon House is jammed full of people like every other place in the French Quarter on the Sunday before Mardi Gras. Every weathered-wood table in the room is overflowing with people eating muffulettas or fruit and cheese boards or bowls of gumbo or fried oyster poboys.

Patrons standing around the polished, dark-wood bar have glasses of wine or beer or the signature Pimm’s cup cocktail. The walls are plain, gray concrete, either scrubbed clean or covered in chipped white paint. The floor is the original tiny white square tiles, and ancient photographs, newspaper articles, and parchments hang in frames on every open wall space.

Joshua’s hand is on my waist as we enter, guiding me with the crowd through the small space as we look for a table.

He leans down and speaks in my ear. “Cool place. We’re going to have a hard time finding a table.”

I put my hand over his. “We don’t have to stay. Let’s just have a drink.”

Leading him to the far end of the bar, we nestle into an open spot and wait for service. Before the bartender arrives, Dean leads Roland through the arched doorway.

“I love New Orleans,” he cries, and my eyebrow arches when I see his fingers are laced with my old frenemy’s.

“Interesting choice,” Roland says, glancing down at me. “What the devil made you want to come here during Mardi Gras?”

“Joshua’s never been before.”

He only huffs and looks around. “Come back another weekend.”

The bartender finally arrives, and Joshua orders two beers and a Pimm’s cup for Roland. I’m sticking to tonic.

“What else have you seen today?” Dean leans against the bar facing Joshua. Roland and I are on the outside of the pair.

“We walked down to Café du Monde and had beignets and coffee.” Joshua’s warm hand rests on my waist as I scan the crowded room.

So many men and women block my view. I’m straining my eyes for Stas’s fair hair and lowered brow. I haven’t seen him since the day we said goodbye in Nice, but I know he’ll be dressed in a suit. I know he’ll stand with perfect posture, always alert, but always appearing at ease.

I realize the eyes of the group are on me, and I quickly add, “It’s a good thing they serve them all day. We slept until one. What did you do?”

Dean’s eyes gleam. “Let’s just say I’m very relaxed… and stretched out.” He starts to laugh, and Roland lifts his glass.

My eyebrows rise, but Joshua sips his beer. “I don’t need to know everything you do. You’re a big boy now.”

“Speaking of big boys—” Dean continues, but my breath catches.

Blue eyes lock on mine, and I’m not listening anymore.

Stretching up on my toes, I kiss Joshua’s cheek before whispering in his ear. “I’ll be right back.”

The crowd grows thicker with every passing minute, but I manage to weave my way through the bodies. I’m glad it’s so crowded. Otherwise, I’d never be able to slip away like this.

“Excuse me.” My hands are up, and I roll through another clump of tourists before spilling out in front of my old mentor.

He straightens in front of the bar and smiles down at me. Affection blooms warm and fizzy in my chest, and my throat aches with tears I won’t cry.

“Hello, Stas.” I might be able to fight the tears, but I’m definitely grinning like an idiot.

“You look very good, Myshka.” He nods slightly, formally. “So grown up and beautiful. It’s good to see you.”

“You look good, too.” I clasp my hands, then I put them on my hips. I have no idea what to do with them. I want to hug him, but I don’t think he’d like it. “It’s good to see you, as well. What brings you to the States?”

“I came to meet a man. In my haste, I didn’t consider the time of year.” He makes a face and shrugs. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“I’m just having tonic.” He motions to the bartender and asks for my beverage.

When he turns back, I feel fourteen again. I wave around the room. “Mardi Gras is always crazy.”

“Do you live here now?”

The roar of the crowd grows louder as the “Mardi Gras Mambo” blasts through the loudspeakers hanging in the four corners of the room. Everyone begins to sway in time with the music, and I shout No, but shake my head so he understands me. I glance over my shoulder in the direction of my group. So far, no one seems to miss me.

“You’re here with that young man?” Stas asks once the noise dies down.

I nod, taking the clear sparkling beverage. “We’ve been seeing each other about a year.”

“And you look happy.” It’s not a question. “Do you still have the necklace I gave you?”

Remembering that day, the last time I saw him, makes me smile. “Yes, and I keep it in a safe place when I’m not wearing it.”

He nods. “So you’ve worn it.”

“I have.”

Placing his elbow on the bar, I watch as he pinches his lips between his finger and thumb. My mind flies to the last time I saw him, standing on the beach…

Stas taught me to fight, to use that piece of jewelry as a stealth weapon. It never occurred to me he didn’t think I would.

He should have known I would.

Stubbornness rises in my chest, and I change the subject. “What man?”

His eyes flicker to mine. “Sorry?”

“You said you’re here to meet a man. Is it Freddie? His dad?”

“Oh.” He waves his hand dismissively. “No, no. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

I know nothing of this man’s life outside of the time we spent together in Nice. I only know he found me when I was broken, and he fixed me, as much as someone like me can be fixed.

“But you helped me.” I place my hand on his forearm. “I want to help you.”

His eyes warm like they used to, and he pats my hand. “You would not have liked me as a young man. I was very selfish. I was not careful with the ones I loved, and I lost them. This man might help me find them… or know what happened.”

“Was it your family? Here in New Orleans?” He takes a sip of his beverage, and I chew my lip, thinking. “My sister is married to a police detective. He might be able to help. What’s the man’s name?”

Stas studies my face. “This is not a matter for the police.”

The gravity in his tone makes me pause. “I don’t have to tell Mark who it’s for… or I can try and find him on my own. I have ways of finding people.”

He tilts his head side to side and exhales a chuckle. “I see your knowledge has surpassed mine.”

“You’d be amazed what you can find on the internet.” I’m proud that I’ve impressed him, and I take a sip of my drink, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. I’ll be discreet. Tell me his name.”

His gaze lifts over my head, scanning the room as he leans close to my face. “Reese Landry.”

“Got it.” I nod. “How can I find you?”

“I’ll find you, Myshka.” Leaning back, he smiles. “Your young man is here.”

I look over my shoulder to see Joshua making his way toward us. When I turn back, Stas has already disappeared in the crowd. He’s across the room, exiting through one of the arched doorways.

His beverage sits unfinished on the bar.

“Hey, you never came back.” Joshua is with me, pulling me close. “Did you know that guy?”

“Funny thing.” I glance over my shoulder again in the direction Stas disappeared. “I did know him… But he’s just an old friend. Nothing to worry about.”

They’re the same words Stas said to me.

Joshua’s brow lowers. “You’re meeting strange men in bars and telling me not to worry about it?”

“That came out wrong. I just meant—”

“You know what? Save it, Molly.”

He’s angry, and I’m stuck. I can’t tell Joshua who Stas is—I’m not even completely clear on who Stas is, other than some rich Russian I met in Nice seven years ago—and I just promised I wouldn’t share why he’s here.

“Joshua…” I put my hand on his waist. “Don’t be mad. You know I used to live in New Orleans.”

“When you were thirteen. When something bad happened to you.” His eyes flash, and as much as it complicates everything, I kind of love this protective side of him. “That guy looks dangerous.”

“Well… I mean, he probably is. But he’s a friend.”

The muscle in Joshua’s jaw moves, and he turns on his heel, heading back to where Roland and Dean stand facing each other at the bar. I follow chewing my lip and feeling like shit.

“I have to get to work,” Roland straightens as we approach. “It’s Bacchanalia at the piano bar. You all should come by tonight.”

“You’re going now?” Dean sounds like a puppy.

“It’s better to go in early. Beat the crowd.”

“I need to see Lara,” I say quietly.

Roland’s dark eyes move from him to me then up to Josh. “Why don’t you boys come with me now?”

I’m not sure why he’s helping me, but I don’t argue. Joshua looks at me briefly then nods. “We can tag along. Do they serve food?’

“Some of the best Creole in New Orleans.” Roland grins. “Although if you’re really looking for something good, you should try Petit Monjou. They have the best—”

“Three-fer sandwich!” I say it with him, putting my hand on Josh’s shoulder. “It’s really good. You’ll be addicted.”

He faces me, voice lowered. “You’re going to Lara’s?”

“She wanted me to come here and talk.” I exhale deeply. “I need to listen to what’s on her mind.”

Blinking up, our eyes meet, and I hate that I still see anger simmering in his. I put my palm against his cheek. “I’ll come to Roland’s place as soon as I’m done.”

He holds my wrist and kisses my palm before leaving with the guys. I watch his cute ass as they make their way out wondering how I’ve gone from keeping one big secret to two.

My luck only seems to go bad when I come to this city.