Chapter 13
Gage rapped lightly on the door to his teaching colleague Louis Murdock’s hospital room, successfully concealing his shocked reaction to the number fading bruises and Steri-strips covering the man’s tawny-brown face. It was more than a week since the hit-and-run, and Louis’s wife revealed he was now able to receive visitors. She also reassured Gage that her husband was expected to have a full recovery, but only after several months of inpatient and outpatient rehabilitation.
“Room service,” Gage announced cheerfully.
“I hope you brought some gumbo, because I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to tolerate this hospital grub.”
Gage sat on a chair next to the bed. “The food may not be what you want, but I must say your accommodations are rather nice.”
Louis nodded. “It’s not too bad. I have views of the river, flat-screen TV, and all the legal painkillers I want whenever I want to get high.”
Any mention of narcotics to Gage was akin to someone shoving a sharp object under his fingernail. He wasn’t a neophyte when it came to drugs; on occasion he’d smoked marijuana before it became legal in many states, but that was in his youth. It was only after he’d married and become a father that he stopped.
“Are you in a lot of pain?”
A pair of light-brown eyes met his. “It comes and goes. I usually take something to help me sleep through the night, but I hold off during the day.” Louis closed his eyes. “I still can’t believe that sonofabitch knew he’d hit me but still didn’t stop.”
Gage studied the face of the man whom he thought of as his mentor since becoming an artist-in residence. During his tenure he met with him biweekly, although it wasn’t required, to keep Louis abreast of the direction in which he wanted to take the jazz band. He thought of the man as a musical genius who was able to engage students to appreciate music that went beyond rap and hip-hop. Louis played high school basketball and was offered athletic scholarships from several colleges, but his love of music won out when he decided to go the Crane School of Music. Now approaching sixty, he had not changed much from the tall, gangly boy with a tawny complexion and sparkling light-brown eyes.
“It may take a while, but the police will eventually catch him.”
Louis opened his eyes. “My wife told me they’re checking every body shop within twenty square miles, because it’s certain the vehicle has front-end damage. You said you wanted me to look over the proposal for the spring concert.”
Gage handed him a folder. Louis reached for a pair of half-glasses on the bed next to his right hand. “These are the preliminary strategies from those on the concert committee.” He had spent countless hours researching the evolution of music and dance before presenting it to the committee for their input. In the end he was left with a healthy respect for the amount of time and energy it took to put on a production.
Five minutes later, Louis peered over his reading glasses at Gage, a slow smile parting his still bruised lips. “I like it. Karla’s going to be in seventh heaven because her drama and musical theater students will have a major role in this production.” He took off the glasses. “I knew I was right to recommend you to be an artist-in-residence, because your handiwork is all over this production.”
“That’s because I have an incredible mentor.”
“Cut the bull, Gage. You got into Julliard while they rejected me.”
“And do you think getting into the Crane School of Music is like a walk in the park?” he countered. “You’ve taught music all of your life, while I’m still dabbling in it.”
Louis ran a hand over his thinning, cropped gray hair. “You don’t have to dabble in it if you stay on as head of Lafitte’s music department.”
Gage shook his head. “No! I’ll stay on until the end of the school year, and then I’m done. Done as department head and done as an artist-in-residence. I came back to the States twenty-three years ago to help my brother run the family business, and now it’s time I step up and do it again.”
“You’re going to give up music?”
“Not altogether. I’ll still play a few sets at Jazzes. And besides, you’re too young to retire.”
“Don’t forget I’m sixty.”
“You’re still too young to retire,” Gage repeated. What he wanted to tell Louis was that if he hadn’t had any other options, he would accept the responsibility of becoming a full-time teacher. He’d only earned a degree in music education as a backup, but now it was obvious his backup had backfired. “I’m sorry, Louis, but my first priority is to my family, so I suggest you forget about retiring and come back to do what you do best. And remember, I’ll always be available if you ever need my input on a project.”
Louis nodded. “That’s good to hear. I suppose I’m just indulging in a little self-pity because I spend most my day in this damn bed.”
“When are you scheduled to leave the hospital?”
“My doctor said as soon as they get a bed at the rehab facility, I’m out of here. My coccyx is healing, so it’s just my legs that don’t work.”
Gage patted Louis’s hand. “You’ll be up and running again in no time. And once you’re settled at the rehab center, call me and I’ll bring you some gumbo.”
Louis smiled. “I’m going to hold you to that.” He patted the folder. “Can I keep this?”
“Yes. I made that copy for you. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks for coming.”
Rising, Gage nodded. Although the principal had permitted him complete autonomy in the music department, Gage still wanted to keep Louis apprised of what was happening in his department. He left the hospital and headed home. He had several hours before he was to pick Tonya up and take her to Jazzes. He’d committed to playing one set because he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible.
Gage had deliberately kept busy so he didn’t have to think about Tonya. He had interacted with a lot of women abroad and in the States, but she was the first one whom he believed was his alter ego. Whenever they were together, he could be himself because of her easygoing personality. What initially surprised him was her candor, but now it was something he expected and looked forward to.
Even Eustace couldn’t stop talking about how she was now able to duplicate the family’s recipes for gumbo and jambalaya, and that he sold many more sandwiches now that the bread was baked on the premises. And Tonya would remain after closing hours to put up dough for ciabatta, pita, and focaccia, along with the baguettes, and by closing time they were able to sell every loaf. While he had trained under a Michelin-starred chef, Tonya’s extensive training far exceeded his, and once she opened her restaurant, he knew she would become a much sought-after chef in a city with a number of high-profile celebrity chefs.
He did not want to think of her romantically, but every time they were together Gage found it more and more difficult not to fantasize about making love to Tonya. Everything about her was lush, feminine, and sensual. Perhaps it was time he stop living in the past; marriage had made it hard for him to trust a woman, and divorce was even more bitter because he had lost custody of his son. If he had raised the boy, he was almost certain Wesley would have chosen a different lifestyle than the one that could only lead to him losing his life.
His cell phone rang and his mother’s number appeared on the dashboard screen. Tapping the Bluetooth feature on the steering wheel, he said, “Hello, Mom.”
“Hi, Gage. I’m calling to find out whether you plan to come up next week to watch the Super Bowl with us?”
“I can’t. I’m helping Eustace with a couple of catering orders, and then we’re going over to St. John’s to watch the game. Why?”
“Some of my friends are going up to Baton Rouge to hang out at Frank Lemoyne’s place to watch the game.”
Gage paused. This wasn’t the first time his mother had mentioned Frank’s name, and he wondered if something was going on between Desirée and her former classmate. “Make certain to have a designated driver,” he warned softly.
“I’m going to be the designated driver, because the older I get the less I can tolerate alcohol.”
“You sound like Eustace. He claims that if he has a couple of cocktails, then he’s done for the night.”
“I still remember meeting Eustace when he was only ten, and now he’s planning to attend his high school’s fortieth reunion.”
“Time goes by so fast that sometimes it’s hard for me to remember what I did the month before.”
Desirée’s husky laugh filled the interior of the vehicle. “You’re much too young to talk about having senior moments.”
“I’m busier now than I’ve ever been.” Gage told his mother about the change in his teaching status. “I still play at Jazzes on Friday and Saturday nights, and help Eustace whenever he has to cater a large party.”
“You boys are just like your father. You work too much. And it isn’t as if you need the money, because André provided for all of us.”
Gage nodded, even though his mother couldn’t see him. The terms of André Toussaint’s will designated his wife and younger son as the beneficiaries of two of his life insurance policies, and his older son the ownership of Chez Toussaints. “The restaurant has been in the family for nearly a century, and there’s no reason why it can’t be passed down to Lindy, Nikki, and their kids for future generations. I’m certain you feel the same way about grandma and grandpa’s antique shop.”
There came a pause before Desirée said, “You’re right. I’ve been trying to get Jennifer to come and work with me, but she’s having problems with Tommy cheating on her. She knew he was tomcatting before she married him, so I don’t know what made her think he would stop after he became her husband.”
“I hear you,” Gage whispered. His mother’s niece had married a man she couldn’t depend on, while he had married Winifred, unaware of her reputation of sleeping around, but he had wanted to do the right thing when she told him she was pregnant with his child. “Talking to her is not going to solve her problem. She won’t do anything about it until she’s had enough and divorces him.”
“It’s not going to be easy for her, Gage. Remember she has three children all under the age of eighteen. I told her she could come and live with me, but she’s afraid when her husband has too much to drink that he’ll start in on me.”
“That’s never going to happen, Mom, because I’ll drive up to Lafayette and stomp a mud hole in his ass. I know you don’t want to get between them, but Jennifer is blood, and if you want, I’ll talk to Tommy, because it’s not only about Jennifer but also her kids.”
“I don’t know, Gage. Tommy may yes you to death, then after you leave he’ll turn on her and the kids.”
“We’ll see. I’ll come up to visit with you and grandma and grandpa in two weeks, and while I’m there I’ll stop in to see Jennifer. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to take Tommy aside and have a man-to-man talk with him. He may be a bully badass with his wife and kids, but I’m hoping he’ll be civil with me.”
“And what if he isn’t?” Desirée asked.
“Then Eustace and I will invite him to a blanket party.”
“What’s that?”
“We’ll throw a blanket over his head, and you can guess what happens next.”
Desirée laughed until she was breathless. “I never imagined my boys would turn out to be thugs.”
Gage smiled. There was never a time when his mother didn’t refer to him and his brother as “my boys” or “my sons.” “Everyone has a dark side, and remember we were raised to protect our women.”
“I always remind folks that’s how I met your father. Tell St. John I said hello, and send my best to Hannah. Did Eustace tell you that he and Janine came up to see me on Dr. King’s birthday?”
“No, he didn’t,” Gage admitted. Eustace had mentioned taking his wife on the cruise, but not that he had traveled to Lafayette to see Desirée.
“He said they were going on a dinner cruise later that night because it had been a while since they’d spent some quality time together. I must admit he looks good now that he’s losing weight.”
“He’s really stuck to his New Year’s resolution.”
“I know you’re busy teaching, helping Eustace, and playing at the club, but are you taking time out to have a little fun?”
Gage’s eyebrows lifted as he slowed and came to a stop at a red light. “What do you mean by fun?”
“Stop pretending to be obtuse, Gage! You know I’m talking about you seeing a woman.”
He smiled. “I am seeing a woman. In fact, I’m on my way home to get dressed before I pick her up.”
There came another moment of silence. “Who is she?”
“She’s a chef who will oversee the restaurants at the DuPont Inn once it’s up and running.”
“When am I going to meet her?”
Gage chuckled. “It’s not what you think, Mom. Tonya and I are friends who happen to be chefs, divorced, and have children in their early twenties.”
“I didn’t ask if you’re getting married. I just want to meet the woman who can get my son to take some time out his hectic schedule to have some fun.”
“I must admit I enjoy being with her.” The admission rolled off his tongue so easily that Gage hadn’t had to think about it.
“Good for you.”
He maneuvered down the street leading to his condo and found a parking spot in front of it. “I’m home now, Mom, so I’m going to hang up so I can shower and change.”
“I’ll talk to you soon. Love you, son.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
Gage disconnected the Bluetooth, and then sat staring out the windshield. He had admitted to his mother what he had been reluctant to admit to himself. Not only did he enjoy spending time with Tonya, but he was beginning to like her and want for their friendship to become much more. He wanted to become her lover.
He realized both of them had had previous unhappy marriages that ended in divorce, yet both were mature enough to be able engage in a no-strings-attached relationship, to enjoy whatever they were willing to offer each other. Gage turned off the engine. Sitting in the vehicle thinking about Tonya and the possibility of their having an ongoing relationship was premature on his part, and he did not want to come on too strong or get ahead of himself, because she may not be that into him.
He finally got out and unlocked the door leading to the courtyard. Hopefully, before the night ended he would know exactly where he stood with Tonya, because it would be their first official date.
* * *
Tonya had quickly come to the conclusion that most of her clothes, other than her chef’s tunic and checkered pants, were black. When, she mused, had she become the quintessential New Yorker sporting the ubiquitous black year-round? The daytime temperatures had dropped to the mid-forties, so she decided a black wool gabardine pantsuit, silk shell, and a pair of matching kitten heels would be appropriate for the evening.
She paid special attention to putting on makeup, something she had not been used to since moving to New Orleans. It was a blatant reminder that she had had little or no social life over the past few years, which translated into not having that many dates since her divorce. Joining co-workers for get-togethers did not count as dates, and the few times she and Darius had gone out in the year since she saw him exclusively were unremarkable.
Tonya peered at her reflection in the mirror over the bathroom vanity as she washed her hands. The deep raspberry color on her lips matched the faint shade under her eyebrow and the blush on her cheeks. Pleased with the results of her handiwork, she returned to the bedroom to fill the small cross-body bag with her cell phone, tiny compact, lipstick, mints, and tissues. She smiled when recalling what she had mentioned to Gage about carrying pepper spray. Whenever she knew she was coming home late, even if it was with a car service, she made certain to take the canister out of her bag before getting out of the car.
The doorbell rang, and she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was exactly eight o’clock. She had left the main gate open for him.
She left the bedroom and walked across the living room to the door. Peering through the security eye, she saw Gage. Smiling, she opened the door, her breath catching in her chest when he stood there dressed completely in black: mock V-neck sweater, slacks, and shoes. Her gaze lingered on his smooth, shaven jaw before moving up to the professionally barbered salt-and-pepper strands.
“It looks as if great minds think alike,” he said, smiling. “We’re both wearing black,” he added when her eyebrows lifted, questioning.
“You’re right. I didn’t realize until I went through my closet that I had so many black clothes.”
His lids lowered over his eyes. “I didn’t think you could improve on perfection, but you have.”
Heat flooded Tonya’s face with the compliment. “Thank you.”
“Are you ready?”
She slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder and chest. “Yes.”
Gage closed the self-locking door, making certain it was firmly shut, then reached for Tonya’s hand. “I reserved a table for us at Jazzes. I’m sitting in for the keyboard player for one number, so we’ll have time to sit together and enjoy the music.”
“Do you play there every weekend?” she asked as they followed the path to the front of the main house.
“Just say I play there most weekends. Fridays are amateur nights, but it’s always the house band on Saturday. Most of the guys in the band grew up together, so whenever I need a break, there’s always someone willing to step in.”
“Do you always play the trumpet?” she asked as he opened the passenger-side door and helped her up. She stared down at him staring up at her, trying to see his expression in the diffused light coming from stanchions along the path leading up to the main house.
Gage closed the door and came around to sit beside her. “Yes. It’s my favorite instrument. Even when I began taking piano lessons I aspired to be like Louis Armstrong, so when I went to middle school and took band, I selected the trumpet.” He pushed the start-engine button, and the distinctive voice of Maxwell filled the SUV. “I can change the music if you want.”
“No, please leave it. I really like his music.”
“What other male vocalists do you like?”
“I’m partial to Anthony Hamilton.”
Gage nodded, smiling. “He’s a throwback to old school R and B. When it comes to R and B, I happen to like Jaheim. I never get tired of hearing his ‘Remarkable.’ ”
“I don’t recall if I’ve ever heard that song.”
“I’ll play it for you whenever you come over again.”
Shifting into gear, Gage circled the driveway and drove along the winding path. Within seconds of the rear wheels driving over the metal plate, the gates closed automatically. He reached for Tonya’s left hand, holding it in his loose grasp as he steered with his free hand.
“I can’t say it enough, but I love cooking with you.”
“It’s the same with me.”
He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I find that I can’t keep my hands off you, and I must confess I can’t remember if a woman has ever affected me like this.”
“What about your ex-wife?”
Gage sucked in his breath, held it for several seconds before slowly exhaling. He had mentioned to Tonya that he wanted to have an honest relationship with her, and that meant she had a right to know about his past. “I had a very unconventional relationship with my ex. She used to come into a club where I used to play, and one night in a moment of madness I went home with her and we had unprotected sex. We continued to sleep together, but always using protection, but I guess the first time proved to be the wrong time, because she came to me a couple of months later to tell me she was pregnant. Three weeks later we tied the knot and moved into an apartment not far from Bourbon Street.”
He revealed how within weeks of their living together Winnie complained bitterly because she wanted to live in a big house with someone to come in and clean for her. Chez Toussaints was open full-time, and he left for work at dawn and returned home twelve hours later to find his wife in bed watching television while the sink was filled with unwashed dishes and dirty clothes were stacked in piles around the house.
“And because she claimed she didn’t feel well, I decided not to press her about coming home to a dirty house. After Wesley was born, it didn’t get any better. There were times when she left the boy with her parents and disappeared for hours. And when she returned home she pretended nothing had happened. One day I found a stack of money she’d hidden in a drawer, and when I confronted her about it, she said she had gotten a part-time job to save enough money so we could buy the house she wanted. I later found out she was sleeping with a man over in another parish. When I confronted her she promised to stop, and she did, but only for a while.”
“How long were you married?” Tonya asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Six years. I only stayed because of my son.”
Gage knew he couldn’t tell Tonya that the final straw was when Winnie revealed Wesley wasn’t his son, that she didn’t know who had fathered the child because she had been sleeping with several men at the same time. They mutually agreed not to tell Wesley that Gage wasn’t his biological father, and even after the divorce he continued to provide monetary support for the child. However, she broke her promise when Wesley turned fifteen and she told him Gage wasn’t his father, that she was pregnant when she first slept with him, and she didn’t know who his father was. The disclosure resulted in a downward spiral for the adolescent.
“Wesley was fifteen when his mother moved to Baton Rouge, and that’s when his life changed dramatically. He and his mother were drinking and drugging together. I tried to get custody of him, but my ex fought me, because she knew she would lose the child support. The judge denied my request when she agreed they would both go into treatment. Even after a number of stays in a residential treatment program, Wesley can’t stay clean. Last year I gave him an ultimatum to come work at the restaurant, and if he manages to stay clean, I’ll buy him a car and help him get an apartment.”
“How old is he now?”
“Twenty. He managed to finish high school and get into a local junior college, but he’s missed so many classes they keep flunking him. Then the police contacted me instead of his mother because he’d been arrested for driving under the influence. The judge revoked his license for six months, and I took back the car I’d given him. If he’s able to stay out of trouble I’ll give him back the car, but that can’t happen until April.”
* * *
Tonya digested what Gage had just revealed and knew what he was going through. Her brother had started out selling drugs, and in the end they were responsible for taking his life. “I’ve worn out my knees praying my daughter will stay away from drugs or anything that will derail her education. But that’s not to say she won’t meet a knucklehead who could sabotage everything she’s worked so hard to achieve.”
Gage gave her a quick glance. “Is that what happened to you?” he asked perceptively.
She nodded. “I met my ex in high school, and we were practically inseparable. I’d just completed my second year of college when I found out I was pregnant. We married right away, and three months later I lost the baby. I’d planned to go back to college, but Samuel insisted I wait because he wanted a family. I had two more miscarriages before I finally had Samara. By that time I was almost thirty, and I knew I would never have any more children.”
“When did you go back to school?”
“Samara was school age, and by that time I knew I wanted to become a chef. My ex put up every roadblock he could to keep me from succeeding, and it got so bad, I left him, filed for divorce, and sent my daughter to live with my parents while I attended classes in Rhode Island. I missed Samara, but in the end I knew the sacrifice was worth it.”
Gage squeezed her fingers again. “Of course it was worth it, babe. You have a daughter you can be proud of, and I’m certain she’s proud of you, because you’re an incredible chef.”
Tonya averted her head at the same time she blinked back unshed tears, because she wanted to cry for Gage’s son. Once her brother started using, he alienated himself from his parents. Every once in a while Ian would call her, and they would talk for hours. He would admit going cold turkey, remain clean for months, once even for several years; but then he would relapse, because drugs took him to another place where nothing mattered. Tonya had just celebrated her thirty-eighth birthday when she got the call to come down to the coroner’s office to identify a body. The only identification the police found on him was her name and telephone number. The hardest thing she had ever had to do was tell her parents that their son had died from a drug overdose. Her father arranged for Ian to be cremated. It was years later they were able to talk about Ian and why he’d chosen the life he did, but they were still not able to come up with an answer, except that dealing drugs was exciting and his career as a therapist dull and monotonous in comparison.
Talking about their past cast a pall over the occupants of the vehicle as all conversation stopped, and there was only the sound of Maxwell’s melodious voice singing “Fortunate.” Pressing her head against the headrest, Tonya closed her eyes and listened to the music until Gage pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the jazz club. She waited for him to get out and come around to assist her after he retrieved the jacket from the rear seat. Even though she was wearing two-inch heels, he still towered over her, and she made a mental note that the next time they went out together for an evening affair she would wear stilettos.
A small crowd had gathered at the front door, waiting to gain admittance to the popular music venue. “We’re going around the back to the employees’ entrance,” Gage whispered in her ear.
Tonya smiled. There had been a time when she had been willing to wait on line for hours to get into a concert or sporting event, but those days were in her past. Holding on to Gage’s hand, she followed him around the building, where a man who’d been taking a smoke break opened the door for them. Gage led her past a kitchen and into the club, where tables were quickly filling up with those who had come to eat, drink, and listen to live music.