Jack

Watching Ember walk out the door with Bucky Pepper makes my blood hot. She says what she does is none of my business. She says to let her go.

Not happening.

Holding her in my arms, dancing just now, the world was right. She tasted like cheap beer, but she smelled like my girl, lavender and citrus, fresh and earthy.

“You okay?” André asks, breaking my glowering into my beer.

“Yeah, sorry.” I give him an unconvincing smile.

He only frowns back. “I wouldn’t be okay if I saw my woman leaving with another guy. Especially someone like that.”

“I don’t know what she’s doing with him.” Turning my back to the bar, I watch the band and the couples dancing, but my mind is following her home.

“When I met Thelma, she was dating this guy… he was so far beneath her, I nearly couldn’t take it.” He does a little chuckle into his tumbler of scotch.

“Where was that?” I turn to face him.

“New Orleans. I grew up there.”

“I figured as much. Did you work in a restaurant?”

He gives me a wry smile. “I was a musician.”

“Yeah? What instrument?”

“Guitar, trumpet, drums. I graduated from UNO in music, sat in with a few of the greats at the House of Blues, Deacon John, Wayne Sanchez…”

“You played with Deacon John?”

André laughs at me. “I was just a kid. He let me play with him at Tipitina’s once.”

“That’s good shit. How the hell did you end up here making poboys?”

Shaking his head, he takes another pull off his drink. I follow his gaze down the bar to where Thelma is talking and laughing with Tabby and Donna. She’s a beautiful lady.

“Love will make you do some crazy shit,” he says, his voice thick with love.

“It’s true.” I turn to face the bar again, thinking about ordering another drink and really wanting to be with Ember. “So Thelma dragged you here?”

“I guess you could say I followed her.” A twinkle is in his eye. “She always wanted to move here. Had an uncle from Madison.”

“And the poboys?”

He exhales. “You can’t grow up in New Orleans and not know food. I got here and realized I wasn’t going to earn a living in the music business.”

I can’t resist teasing him. “Not interested in sitting in with these guys?”

He laughs. “I don’t mind beach music. The Dead, Marley.”

“It’s the lack of soul you can’t get onboard with?”

That gets me a bigger laugh. “There’s some blue-eyed soul happening.” Pointing to the fellow on bass, he nods. “He’s hitting some interesting licks.”

“Okay.” I nod, hoping he’s aware I’m totally out of my league talking reggae music versus traditional New Orleans blues.

“All this place needed was some good food. I figured I’d give it to them.”

“I’m a believer. You’re a master.”

“Except for the brie.”

“Somebody will love that brie shit. Just not me.”

“Just not you,” he says it at the same time, and we both laugh.

For a minute, we listen to the band putting their spin on “Santeria” by Sublime. A few couples are out on the floor doing a two-step. I think about living in this town, being able to hop down to the beach, surf, love on Ember whenever I get a chance. The simple life of Oceanside always appealed to me. It was my father who demanded I be “better,” whatever the fuck that means. I already had what made me happy, what made me complete.

“It’s not a bad place to live.” I don’t state the obvious—I’m here and my presence is solely dependent on what happens with Ember. I can’t imagine living here without her.

“Not much different from what I’m used to,” he says, polishing off his drink. “Pristine, idyllic beaches meet meddling gossipers and busybodies.”

That makes me laugh. “You sound like a local.”

Tabby is over at the other end of the bar with Thelma and Donna White. They’re chatting, but Ember’s friend is facing me. She’s frozen me out since I got here, but two nights ago at the poboy shop I managed to get her to let her guard down and listen to me. It’s how I got Ember’s phone number. It’s what gave me hope. When our eyes meet, she walks down to where I’m standing.

“How’s it going?” she says. “Made any progress?”

My eyes go to the empty bottle in my hand, and my mind goes to my girl leaving here with Bucky Pepper of all people. “She’s really defensive.”

“You really hurt her.”

Frustration tightens my throat. “I was really hurt—”

“So you say,” Tabby cuts me off, green eyes flashing. “I’m not sure what’s true, but I’m willing to take a chance if it’ll help her. You’d better not make me regret it.”

“If things go the way I imagine, there will be no regrets. Ever.” I mean the words with all the determination tightening in my chest.

“Then what are you still doing here?” She gives me a look. “You saw her walk out with Bucky Pepper, right?”

Sighing, I place both forearms on the bar. “I can’t keep forcing her. I have to give her space to come to me.”

“Ember is only with him to fulfill an obligation.” A quiet voice comes from behind Tabby, and I look up to see Thelma has joined us. “She promised his mother. Ember’s one of the nicest people in town.”

I hold out my hand. “Hi, I’m Jackson, Jack—”

“I know who you are, Jack Lockwood. André’s told me all about you.” She does a little laugh and rests her face against her husband’s chest. His strong arm goes around her shoulders.

“Did I see Ember leave with Bucky?” Donna appears beside Tabby, asking as if she’s trying not to let me overhear.

“She said she was tired,” Tabby says, equally low.

Donna’s mousey brown eyes widen. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

I don’t like the implication of her words. “What does that mean?”

She seems to grow even smaller, looking down at her feet. “I don’t like to spread gossip.”

“What does that mean?” The knot in my throat has moved to my chest.

Tabby makes a face. “Cheryl Ann said Bucky… Well, she said he grabbed her inappropriately, but I’m not sure how much of that you can trust.”

She continues talking, but my vision has tunneled. I’m waving at the bartender trying to get his attention.

“My question is why would she go out with him in the first place?” Tabby continues.

Donna’s voice is still soft, but her words slice through me like a knife. “They say women never lie about things like that. I believe Cheryl Ann.”

“Sorry, man, I hate to leave you like this.” I shove a twenty in André’s hand. “Use that to pay for my beer and call a Lyft home.”

He’s instantly on alert. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“It better not have.” I’m moving fast for the door with murder on my mind.