EVEN THOUGH I’D MET THEM last night, seeing the blond couple come into the tattoo shop still flipped all my accepted stereotypes on their head. Vanessa was wearing a skirt and blouse and heels, and Con was wearing ripped jeans and a T-shirt with a chain hanging from his front pocket to his back. Both of his arms were covered in even more tattoos than Bishop had. Objectively, Con and Vanessa looked like the oddest couple I could imagine putting together, but the way his arm wrapped around her waist and how his eyes softened when he looked down at her told me there was nothing odd about them.
What did people think when they saw Bishop and me together? Except we’re not actually together.
Con hadn’t spared me much more than a chin jerk before striding in the direction of the room Bishop had retreated to, but Vanessa stopped in front of me.
“Hey! Eden, right? What are you doing here?”
“I’m . . . waiting for Bishop, I guess.”
Curiosity lit her blue eyes. “There are a lot of girls who wait for Bishop on any given day, but from what I saw last night, you seem to be different.”
I thought of the girl who’d been flirting with him before I’d literally thrown myself at him. “I’d like to think I’m different. But . . . it’s not like that.”
She smiled. “Oh, I know how that goes. Trust me.”
With Vanessa’s easy response, I felt this strange and instant kinship with her. I could only imagine what it had been like when she and the tattooed blond giant had gotten together. The entire time I’d been in New Orleans, I’d had this feeling that by some strange design, the universe was dropping people into my life at the exact moment I needed them. Bishop, Delilah, Fabienne, Yve. Maybe today was Vanessa’s day.
She dived right into a series of questions, asking me what I’d seen and eaten. When she discovered that I hadn’t gotten a full New Orleans experience, she vowed that she would change it for me before striding off down the hall to follow Con.
When Vanessa returned, she adjusted her purse—Prada, if I wasn’t mistaken—and smiled again. “I know we just met last night, and I promise I’m not psycho, but I really would love to take you out for lunch.”
I had to go with my gut. “I’d like that.” I looked at my suitcase beside my chair. “What do I do with this?”
She reached for the handle and pulled it behind the counter. “No worries. It’ll be here when you get back.”
As we walked to the front door of the shop, I heard the creaky door open behind us. I whipped my head around to see Bishop standing in the back hallway, his arms crossed over his chest. He said nothing, just watched me leave.
Was he thinking of the way he’d kissed the hell out of me? Because I was. The unreadable expression on his face gave me absolutely no clue. As I pulled the door shut behind me, his gaze stayed locked on mine through the glass until I turned away.
Vanessa must have noticed because once outside on the sidewalk, she said, “Bishop is intense. If it’s not like that between you two, you’ll have to learn to ignore it.”
I choked out a laugh. “He’s pretty impossible to ignore.”
She tilted her head and looked back through the window. “From the way he’s still looking at you, I would say definitely impossible.”
It took everything I had to keep walking rather than turn around again to see what she was talking about.
“So,” she continued, “you’ve intrigued the stoic Bishop. It’s a feat many have tried to accomplish and failed.”
This time my laugh was genuine. “I wouldn’t go that far. I think I’m more of an annoyance at this point than anything else.”
“Oh, hon, I think you’re completely wrong about that. If he considered you an annoyance, he’d grunt and tell you to back off. I’ve seen it firsthand. You, he watches like he’s dying to know what you look like naked.”
My mind skipped back to the night I woke up to a note on my pillow. Had he seen me naked? I’d woken up wearing a T-shirt and the same panties I’d worn the day before, and if he was in my room . . . yeah, he had to have seen me mostly naked.
Why had I not realized that? Oh my God.
Vanessa noted my quiet and her eyebrows rose. “I know we’re still closer to the stranger side of the spectrum than the friend side, but sometimes you need another woman to spill to when it comes to stuff like this.”
I’d never had that kind of confidante before. And even more than that, I’d never had anything like this to share.
I decided to speak in vague terms. “I’m totally out of my league with him. He’s all tough and tattooed and way too sexy for his own good, and I’m over here practically wearing a nun’s habit for all the experience I’ve had in my life.”
Vanessa stopped mid-stride and grabbed my arm. “Are you a virgin?”
“No. God, no.” But close enough, I added silently.
She pulled me toward a little restaurant with a giant oyster for a sign. “This is it. We’re going to need wine for this.”
Even now, two days later, the thought of alcohol still made my stomach flip. “Can I pass on the wine? I sort of had . . . an incident that wasn’t so great.”
“I’m sensing a story there. I’ll have wine, you eat the bread they bring to the table, and we’ll call it even.”
For the first time in my entire adult life, I felt the kind of solidarity with another woman that I’d seen in movies. Should I tell her what happened with Bishop? What did I really have to lose?
A host seated us at the only empty table in the restaurant, and I let the entire story of the last few days loose, minus the part about why I left the hotel in such a hurry.
By the time I finished with how I quite literally jumped him at Voodoo this afternoon, Vanessa had drained her wineglass and was fighting back a laugh.
“This is the best thing I’ve heard in way too long. God, I can only imagine how shocked he was when you threw yourself at him.” She held a hand over her mouth. “I don’t know why I love the idea of Bishop off-balance, but it makes me so happy. He’s turned aloof into an art form since the day he showed up and Delilah made Con hire him.”
“Aloof is one way to describe it.”
“You’ve definitely shifted his world out of order, and sometimes that’s exactly what we need in order to remind us that we’re alive. I think Bishop has just been existing for a long time, so this could be the best thing that has ever happened to him.”
I eyed the empty wineglass in front of her. “I’m not sure I’d go that far.”
“You’d be surprised. Sometimes what we need is the opposite of what we expect. I’m living proof. I never expected to find everything missing from my life in that big tattooed Viking of a man, but I did. It scares the hell out of me to think how different my life might be if I hadn’t accepted his dares.”
“It sounds like there’s a story there too,” I said.
Vanessa’s smile widened. “Absolutely, but that’s for another day and another glass of wine. Let’s order some lunch for the guys. Con should be done with the books in a half hour, I hope, and you need to get in touch with Charlie about that apartment so you have somewhere to live.”
“Con’s working on the books?”
“Yes, his least favorite task of all.”
“I can help with that,” I offered. “I mean, if he needs or wants a bookkeeper.”
“I thought you said you were taking a job at Your Favorite Hole?”
“I can always be busier. It’s not like I’ve got a wild social life taking up a lot of my time.”
“You never know how quickly that could change.” Vanessa tapped her lips with two fingers. “But I’ll mention it. Con’s always grumpy as hell when he’s dreading, doing, or forgetting to do books. I wouldn’t be sad for that to disappear.”
“Let me know what he says. My offer stands.”
On the way back to Voodoo with the food, Vanessa pointed out more landmarks and things that weren’t to be missed, and I shocked myself by actually recognizing a few of them from my earlier wanderings. Without too much effort, New Orleans could feel more like home than New York.
But with that thought came the reminder of the burner phone sitting like a lead weight in my purse. All it would take was one text or call, and I’d be sucked back into the colorless life I’d led before. It solidified my resolve to soak up every moment of my time here.
Before we turned the last corner back to Voodoo, I saw a neon sign in an old window that looked like the panes were due for a wash and the frame had been painted dozens of times. It read Fortunes Told Here with a pair of hands beneath it. Goose bumps rose on my skin, and I slowed. Vanessa followed my gaze.
“Have you ever had your fortune told?”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure I even believe in that kind of stuff.”
“What’s the harm in hearing what she has to say then? Madame Laveau is practically a legend in the Quarter.” She lifted the bag of takeout she’d ordered. “I need to take this to the guys, but maybe you should step inside and see what happens.”
“Laveau? Like Marie Laveau? The voodoo queen?”
Vanessa smiled. “She claims to be a distant relation but there’s nothing to substantiate that. Personally, I think it’s just smart marketing.”
“Is it . . . safe?”
At my question, Vanessa’s laugh echoed. “Absolutely. You can meet me back at Voodoo when you’re done and tell me all about your future.”
With another genuine smile, she patted my hand and strode off down the sidewalk, leaving me to stare at the glossy black-painted doorway.
What could it really hurt?
I crossed the uneven pavement and climbed up the single uneven step. A shiver skipped down my spine, but I shook it off.
None of it was real anyway. Right?
I pushed open the door and tiny brass bells tinkled above my head as the wood floor creaked beneath my feet.
“Come on in, child. I could feel your curiosity from outside.” The woman, tall and thin with skin the color of café au lait, greeted me from behind the counter.
“Hi?” My greeting sounded more like a question than anything else.
“What can I do for you today?”
She folded her arms on the glass in front of her and studied me. I wondered if she could see everything.
No way. That would be impossible. I chided myself for letting my imagination get the better of me.
I cleared my throat and pulled myself together. “My fortune. I’d like to know what you see.”
“Ah. We all want to know our future, don’t we? Luckily, you came to the right place. Come on back.”
She pushed away from the counter and gestured to the gap between it and the wall. I followed her as I soaked up the ambience of the shop. The lower shelves were lined with books and boxes of tarot cards, and the upper shelves were filled with glass jars of different teas and herbs.
Rather than spooky, it felt only slightly unnerving. She led me to a table and indicated that I should sit. Hands folded tightly in my lap, I waited for her to speak.
“Do you have a preference? Tea or tarot?” She nodded to a cup and teapot. “I read the leaves at the bottom. My grandmother taught me when I was a child.”
I’d seen the fortune-tellers with their card tables and tarot decks near Jackson Square, but it hadn’t occurred to me to stop. But tea . . . that sounded intriguing. What could someone actually tell you from reading tea leaves?
Somehow, it seemed safer too.
“Tea.”
She nodded. “Very well.”
She set about brewing a fresh pot and placed the teacup on the table. I waited, wondering if this whole process was drawn out to give more authenticity to the supposed fortune-telling.
But my doubts drained away when she started to speak.
“You’ve felt trapped. Kept away from the things you truly want.” Her gaze flicked up to mine. “And now you’re finding freedom because that’s what your future holds. Freedom . . . but at a price. You face a very tangled web where nothing is as it truly appears, and when it untangles, you will have to make a choice.”
Although her words were generic and perhaps could have applied to anyone, they struck a chord inside me.
Trapped. Freedom. Tangled.
“What . . . what’s going to happen?”
“I can’t see specifics. I only know that you will be tested and when you think you have failed, you must look deeper.”
This last part was cryptic, and apprehension curled through me at the word failed.
Failed at what?
I wanted to continue to ask questions, but she rose from the table. “If you have more questions, come back and see me again, child. I’d be happy to tell you what the next cup says.”
I stood, with more questions than answers swirling through my brain.
When I followed her out to the front of the shop, I dug into my wallet and pulled out enough cash to pay for the reading and a tip. I knew I should be watching my finances more closely considering I only had cash to rely on now, but one indulgence wasn’t going to break me. I handed over the bills, and she tucked them in the register.
“Thank you,” I said before turning toward the door. I was already telling myself that the generic fortune she’d read me didn’t necessarily have anything to do with my future.
“Consider this my free advice. That inked man is more than what he appears. Guard your heart.”
My hand froze on the doorknob and I whipped around.
“Excuse me?”
Her smile took on a decidedly feline quality. “Ah. You were wondering if I could truly see anything. Now you know for certain. Take care now.”
My hand shook on the doorknob, but I managed to twist it hard and burst out of the shop onto the street.
How could she possibly know that? Inked man. There was no way. Fortune-tellers weren’t real. Were they?
A cold gust of wind sent more shivers racing across my skin.
This town was a way more eerie than I gave it credit for, and Madame Laveau was either a first-class guesser or she saw something when she looked at me.
I hugged my arms around myself and made my way back to Voodoo.