Page 11 of February (New Orleans #2)

B ridgette had felt it. She’d stopped herself from thinking about the fact that Monica was there to buy her company, and she’d been nice. Not only that, but she’d also enjoyed spending time with the woman. So much so that when the chatty barista had asked her out again and Bridgette had said no, she’d flirted with Monica. Monica, who was rich, straight, and not from around here. Monica, who had been at least mildly offended that a woman had offered to buy her a drink and had been interested in them going to a concert together. She was here to take something from her that Bridgette had been looking forward to her entire life. Bridgette had ideas. She always had. But she wanted to respect her parents and their own ideas until they finally left the company to her and she was able to implement them. Sure, she had made suggestions, and she’d tried to help when she could, but they’d generally turned her down, and she had to be okay with that because it was their company.

Bridgette sat on the grass, staring out at the Mississippi. There were benches along the Riverwalk, but she preferred to sit closer to the water whenever she could. She’d enjoy this while she could because Carnival season would pick up soon on Fat Tuesday, and the tourist season would be in full swing after that. These moments of peace wouldn’t be available to her until they all went home and she got this part of the city back mostly to herself.

“Bridgette?”

Bridgette turned her head and saw Monica, of all people, standing there on the sidewalk with another woman.

“Monica?”

“Hi,” Monica said. “Um… Sophie, this is Bridgette. She works at the company I’m here for.”

‘Here to buy,’ Bridgette wanted to say but held it in.

“Hi,” she said instead, offering a small wave.

“Nice to meet you,” Sophie replied with a wave as well.

“You too. Are you heading to dinner?” Bridgette asked.

“No, actually. We already ate because Sophie has work early tomorrow. I thought you would be with your friends,” Monica replied.

“It’s still early,” she noted.

“Right,” Monica said.

“Mon, I’m parked right over there. Is it okay if we say goodnight now?”

“Sure,” Monica replied to Sophie. “It was great catching up with you.”

“You too. Let’s hang out again before you go.” Sophie wrapped her arms around Monica, and Bridgette wondered what Monica smelled like, which was a weird thing to think about.

She shook her head and looked out over the water while the two women embraced and said their goodbyes.

“Nice to meet you again,” Sophie added to her then.

Bridgette turned back and said, “You too.”

She expected Monica to say goodnight and walk toward wherever her town car was parked, but she didn’t. She waved Sophie off and took a few steps into the grass.

“You’ll mess up those fancy shoes,” Bridgette noted.

“I’m rich. I’ll buy another pair,” Monica joked.

“Did you want to sit or something?”

“Yes, actually,” Monica said and sat down next to her, leaving a little space between them. “So, what are you doing out here?”

“This is my spot.”

“Your spot?”

“Yeah, I come here when I need to think. Well, sometimes. It gets crowded in a few weeks, so I’ll go to my other spot then, which is an empty square of grass on the way to The National WWII Museum that tourists don’t really know is there.”

“So, the grass is the common denominator?”

“I prefer the water,” Bridgette said.

“It’s nice,” Monica replied.

“Yeah.” Bridgette brought her knees to her chest and held on to them.

“Are you really getting drinks with your friends tonight?”

“No,” she admitted. “Melinda and Kyle are going out, and Jill is closing up NOLA Guides.”

“So, you just didn’t want to go to dinner?”

“Not really,” she said. “You two go back, right? You haven’t seen her in a while?”

“About four years.”

“Better for you to catch up if I’m not there, then.”

“Is everything okay?”

“What’s everything?” Bridgette asked as she turned her face to take in Monica’s.

Monica was beautiful. She was still wearing the same jeans and cardigan as before, but now, she held her clutch, which made Bridgette smile because she had mentioned it was for the nighttime.

“I thought we’d turned a corner earlier today, and then, there was a setback. You got quiet.”

“Just thinking,” Bridgette shared. “My entire life, I’ve planned to take over a business, and now, that’s about to go away.”

“But you know I’m not here to steal it away from you , right?”

“I know.” She sighed. “Logically, I understand this isn’t your fault. It’s just hard.”

“I’m not trying to make it that way for you. I actually think your parents are great people, and I’d like to see you have something after the sale to help you wherever you go next.”

“Here,” Bridgette said and pointed out to the river. “I love this city.”

“I didn’t mean physically.”

“Your company is in New York.”

“Yes, it is.”

“So, I’d have to move there, right?”

“You’re assuming I’d offer you a job,” Monica teased with a smile before she bumped Bridgette’s shoulder with her own.

Bridgette laughed and said, “I wouldn’t move; that’s what I’m saying.”

“It’s nice here.”

“Yeah? Even with the horse poop?”

Monica laughed and said, “I had to buy anti-frizz everything at the pharmacy to tame my hair in this humidity, and I have no idea how you deal with it in the summer, but it’s beautiful.” She looked out over the water. “I resisted it at first, but it’s beautiful.”

“Mel and I say it’s alive,” Bridgette replied.

“Alive?”

“Yeah, like the city is alive itself. Even if no one lived here, it would still go about its day.”

“And just what would the city of New Orleans do to go about its day?”

“Get coffee and beignets at Café Du Monde.”

“Good way to start the day. Then what?”

“Spend the morning walking around the Square.”

“It would walk around itself?” Monica asked with a smile.

“Just go with it,” Bridgette replied.

“Okay.” She laughed. “Go on.”

“After the walk, it would grab a Po-Boy from Henry’s. He owns this kick-ass sandwich shop. Probably something with shrimp, and maybe the city would get some shrimp and grits later, too. Have you had shrimp and grits?”

“No. I haven’t had a Po-Boy from Henry’s yet, either.”

“You’re missing out. All the best food in the city is in the dives.”

“I’ll have to check it out.” Monica looked at the water. “What would New Orleans do in the afternoon?”

“Riverboat cruise to see the city before, during, and after sunset.”

“And then? The French Quarter?”

“Probably to the art galleries first before they close. Then, the Quarter to celebrate itself.”

“Does it get a drink?”

“Yeah, one of everything,” Bridgette said.

“So, New Orleans is a drunk?”

“Obviously,” Bridgette teased. “The sewer system here is filled with three things.” She held up a finger. “Beads.” She held up another finger. “Poop.”

“Gross.” Monica laughed.

“What do you think a sewer is for, Monica?”

“What’s the third thing?” Monica asked while laughing.

“Oh, booze. Just all the stuff people spill, trip over, or otherwise dump in the streets.”

“You make it sound so nice.” Monica laughed again.

“It gets crazy, but it’s home, and I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.”

“Have you lived here your whole life?” Monica asked, leaning back on her hands.

“No. I grew up in Baton Rouge, but we moved here when I was in high school, and I stayed after that. My parents moved back to Baton Rouge a while ago.”

“Why?”

“The main office is there. They started the company before we moved here. My mom opened the office here then, but there were problems with the manager they left in charge back in Baton Rouge, so my dad ended up going back and forth a lot. They decided to move back when I was out of college and leave this office for me to look after.”

“And you like it better here?”

“Nothing wrong with Baton Rouge; I just fell in love with this place,” Bridgette shared. “I’ve never been anywhere else like it.”

“I’m not sure I have, either,” Monica said.

“What about your semester abroad?” Bridgette teased.

“Close, but not the same.”

When Monica smiled at her, Bridgette looked away. She couldn’t keep talking to this woman. The more she talked to her, the more she liked her, and liking her was not an option.

“So, dinner was fun?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, it was great catching up with Soph.”

“How did you know her again?”

“She used to work with me. She left the company for a job down here.”

“She looks young.”

“She’s thirty-two.”

“And you’re?”

“ Not thirty-two,” Monica replied. “Does everyone say, ‘Ma’am’ and ‘Sir’ down here, or is it just because I hit forty that I’m noticing it more?”

“It’s a cultural thing.” Bridgette shrugged, thinking that Monica didn’t really look forty in this evening light.

“So, I shouldn’t take offense?”

“No,” Bridgette replied. “I get ‘Ma’am’ a lot, and I’m twenty-seven. I’ve been called ‘Ma’am’ since about the time I graduated high school. It picks up a lot around twenty-five or so, depending on how young you look.”

“I wish I looked young,” Monica said on a sigh.

“You do look young.”

“Unfortunately, I think you’re lying to me, trying to be nice.”

“Why would I be nice to you?” Bridgette asked.

Monica laughed louder than she had before, so Bridgette turned back to the water because she liked Monica’s laugh and how her face crinkled just a little too much.

“I guess you have a point,” Monica finally said.

“You don’t have to hang out with me,” Bridgette told her. “I mean, I’m not trying to get rid of you or anything. I just don’t want you to think that you have to sit here with me out of pity or something.”

“Strangely enough, Bridgette, I actually want to hang out with you. Now that you’re not being a complete asshole every minute of the day, I don’t mind you at all.”

“Oh, you don’t mind me? What a compliment,” Bridgette said as she laughed.

“It’s the best I can do, given how we began.” Monica shrugged a shoulder.

“I guess I’ll have to take it, then.”

“It’s getting chilly.” Monica wrapped her arms around herself. “I should’ve brought a jacket.”

“Here.” Bridgette removed her own brown leather coat, which used to be her grandfather’s, and handed it to her. “It’s not cold to me yet.”

“No, I’m okay. You didn’t–”

“Just wear the damn thing.”

Monica laughed and replied, “Okay.” She took it from her and noted, “This looks old.”

“It’s not old. It’s vintage. It’s just not designer. Do you know what unfancy clothes are like?”

“Dad?” Monica asked as she held up the jacket before she slipped her arms into it.

“Grandpa,” Bridgette shared. “He left it to me when he died about five years ago.”

“Were you close?”

“Yeah,” she replied, leaving it at that.

“I love old leather,” Monica said. “It’s so soft and still smells like leather, you know?”

“Old leather is really the only leather I know. Is your couch at home made of new leather?”

“No.” Monica laughed a little. “It’s just regular fabric.”

“What color?”

“Gray. The whole place is gray, really.”

“Is gray your favorite color?”

“No, I hired a decorator and was pretty hands-off with the whole thing.”

“Your house? Why? You live there.”

“Not really. I spend more time at work than at home.”

“Gross,” Bridgette said.

“Don’t you love your job?”

“Yes, but it’s not my whole life. I’d never want that. I want to live in the city, not just work here.”

“I guess I don’t really feel that way about home.”

“About New York City?” Bridgette turned to her then. “Isn’t it the greatest city on earth?”

“I’m sure it is, but I’m usually at the office or working from home. I have events and things I attend, but those could happen anywhere, really. When you grow up there, you don’t really see the beauty in it how others do.”

“I still see the beauty here.” Bridgette meant the city but also meant the woman she was staring at.

“I think that’s pretty amazing,” Monica said. “And it’s getting late.”

“Late? You’re in New Orleans.”

“For me, this is late,” Monica replied. “Well, not really, but I have some work to do back at the hotel.”

“You worked all day.”

“No, I took a few hours off to go on a tour. Besides, I might be here as a favor to my dad, but I still have work that doesn’t involve Southern Hospitality Greetings.”

“What do you do there? It doesn’t seem like you travel around doing this all the time.”

“I’m in charge of a few departments, but acquisitions is one of them. Dad just wanted me to handle this one myself instead of sending someone on my team.”

“Like your assistant who gets you coffee?” She joked. “Wait. Are you like Miranda Priestly? I’m convinced you are. Do you have two assistants? Is one of them Emily Blunt? Did you convince her to give up acting to work for you?”

“I’d never convince Emily Blunt to give up acting.” Monica placed a hand on her heart as if that would be a travesty.

Bridgette laughed and offered, “I can walk you to your waiting car, if you want.”

“I’d have to order it first,” Monica replied.

“I parked over here. I can drive you to your hotel.”

“I interrupted your quiet time. I should leave you to it.” Monica stood and removed the jacket, handing it back to Bridgette. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Okay. Yeah.”

“Good night, Bridgette.”

“Bridge.”

“What?”

“People call me Bridge.”

“Okay. Good night, Bridge.” Monica smiled softly and walked away toward the sidewalk that would lead her to the road.

“Good night,” Bridgette said mostly to herself.