Page 21 of February (New Orleans #2)

“Y ou’re going on a date with Monica?” Jill asked.

“Yes. And I have no idea what to wear. So, will you help already?”

“Where are you going?”

“Voodoo,” she replied.

“You’re taking that woman to a hole-in-the-wall barbeque place?”

“I wanted to keep it casual. I’m not great with fancy.”

“And you think she’s great with holes in the wall?”

“Jill, you are not being helpful. I asked you to be helpful. Come on. I’m nervous.”

“Okay. Well, it’s not that hard. You’d be out of place in anything other than jeans there, so wear your nicest pair with a little give in them so you can be comfortable while you eat.”

“Got it,” Bridgette said as she pulled a pair of jeans from her closet.

“And you’d have to wear something you know could get stained. You’re not a messy eater that I’ve seen, but it is barbecue. I’d say layer up. Wear a decent shirt with a sweater over it so that if you get the sweater dirty, you can take it off. Will you have a jacket?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wear one. You might not need it, but if you have to take the sweater off, you’ll have it if you get cold.”

“Or, if she does.”

“There you go, Casanova. You’re getting it now.”

“You’re making fun of me? This is my first real date in forever, and you’re making fun of me?”

“Hey, you called me , not Melinda.”

“Mel is busy with Kyle. I tried.”

“Wait, so I’m your second try?” Jill asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll ignore that since you seem to be desperate for my help. Just chill, Bridge.”

Bridgette stopped searching her closet and sat on her bed, holding her phone to her ear.

“I can’t just chill. I really like her.”

“So you’ve said. And, apparently, made out with.”

“Jill, she’s just… She’s so annoying, intoxicating, smart, pretentious, funny. Did I say annoying already?”

Jill laughed and said, “Yes, you did. Is it annoying in that good way?”

“Yes,” she replied. “In that ‘it’s annoying that she’s so hot while she’s doing it’ way.”

“She’s leaving, Bridge. She doesn’t live here.”

“I’m well aware of that, Jill,” she replied. “Stop trying to bring my mood down.”

“Your mood is nervous. How am I bringing that down?”

“I’ve got to go. I still need to find a shirt and a sweater, apparently.”

“Fine. Fine. Hey, good luck tonight.”

“Thanks.”

Bridgette dropped her phone onto the bed and stood back up. Since getting home a couple of hours earlier, she’d spent most of that time cleaning in case they decided to come to her place after their date. She’d also showered and made sure to shave because she had no idea where the night might take them, and after drying her hair, she decided not to apply makeup. She hadn’t worn much most days, if any, since Monica had arrived at the office, so she would do her best to be herself tonight. Then, she found a plain pale-green shirt and a white cardigan before she tossed that back down on the bed because she wasn’t about to wear white to a barbeque dinner. Finding a navy-blue crew-neck sweater instead, she slid it on over the green shirt and made sure that the shirt couldn’t be seen through the sweater. Finally, deciding that she looked good enough, Bridgette slipped into a pair of her nicest tennis shoes because they’d probably walk a little tonight, grabbed her coat, and left the apartment.

She took the bus over to the hotel because she didn’t want to drive tonight, and she didn’t have access to a town car. When she got to the hotel, she planned to head up the elevator to pick Monica up at her room, but the woman was already in the lobby, standing off to the side, wearing a pair of jeans, as instructed, and a black sweater over it. She was rubbing her hands together anxiously, which made Bridgette smile a little because Monica was nervous, too. She was nervous about their first date. That meant something, right? That meant it mattered enough to her to be nervous about it. It meant Monica cared about what they were doing tonight. And it also meant Bridgette fell a little more in love with her. Bridgette’s smile disappeared in an instant. Nope. She wasn’t in love. This was a first date. She was in like . She was in like with that beautiful woman, who was nervous about going on a date with her. Yes, that was it.

“Hi,” she said, that smile returning the moment the greeting left her lips.

“Hi.” Monica gave Bridgette a shy smile when she saw her standing there.

Bridgette tucked her hands into her front pockets nervously and said, “I was going to go upstairs to get you.”

“I thought I’d just meet you down here,” Monica replied before she laughed a little. “And I was ready about thirty minutes ago. I got restless upstairs, so I just came down here, where there was more room for me to pace.”

“You’ve been pacing?” Bridgette asked as she took a step toward her.

“I have, yes. I haven’t been on a date in a long time, Bridge.”

“Neither have I,” she shared.

“Toya?”

“Yeah. Well, I’ve tried, but nothing really worked for me until now,” she added. “And I’m kind of glad about that. I was frustrated and hated it before, but I’m good with the fact that I… couldn’t find anyone until…”

“Me?” Monica asked with hope in her expression.

“Yeah, you,” she said as her eyes lowered to her shoes. “No pressure, huh?”

Monica’s hands reached for her own and held them between their bodies.

“We had a great day today. This is only a continuation of that, right?”

“Yes,” Bridgette said as she took in Monica’s approach to their first official date.

They’d woken up together that morning, had breakfast, walked around the city, and then eaten lunch together before Bridgette had dropped Monica back off at the hotel, kissing her goodbye before she’d gone home. On their walk, they’d stopped off at the tourist shops, and Monica had forced her into some of the more expensive brand-name stores as well, showing Bridgette that big bags like hers were very popular right now. They’d also held hands throughout the entire day. Sometimes, they would separate to take something off a shelf or to open a door, but they’d always found their way back to one another as if they’d done that for years. In one store, Bridgette had been right behind Monica as Monica pulled a ridiculous T-shirt off a rack and held it up for her to see. That had allowed Bridgette to take in the scent of her neck, and her arms moved of their own accord around Monica’s waist from behind, pressing her front into Monica’s back. They’d ended up standing like that for a few minutes before someone cleared their throat behind them because they wanted to get to the shirts, too. The whole day had felt like a date, which meant that this was only a continuation of that, and for some reason, that helped with Bridgette’s nerves.

“So, should we go?” Monica asked.

“Yeah, let’s,” Bridgette said.

She turned around and took Monica’s hand in hers as they began walking out of the building.

“Why is the car here?” she asked when she saw the town car in front of the hotel. “I thought you were letting me plan tonight.”

“I am. This is the Four Seasons, Bridge. Not every town car is mine,” Monica replied with a laugh.

“Oh,” Bridgette let out. “Right.”

“You are really cute right now,” Monica told her. “You had this look of consternation.”

“Consternation? Who even uses that word?” she asked as she turned them on the sidewalk and continued walking.

“I do,” Monica said.

“ You would.”

Just like that, they were in their groove, and it was as if they’d gone on a hundred dates before. Monica only grunted once when Bridgette stood at the bus stop, and it was pretty entertaining to watch her cross her arms over her chest in protest. Still, Bridgette wanted Monica to experience New Orleans how the locals usually did, and people in this city mostly walked, took the bus, and when they had the need or the cash, they took a shared ride or a cab. Driving through some parts of the city was fine, but in other parts, it was a recipe for disaster. Parking also wasn’t readily available, and they risked spending more time in traffic waiting for pedestrians than they’d actually spend driving.

The bus was packed, as usual, and Bridgette found herself enjoying it because it meant that they had to stand and that Monica had to be very close to her. After the third time they were bumped into one another, Bridgette just wrapped her arms around Monica’s waist and pulled her into her.

“You made us take the bus so you could cop a feel?”

Bridgette laughed against Monica’s neck and said, “If only you knew what some people get up to on these buses. I’m behaving myself.”

The look Monica gave her as she pulled back to check what Bridgette had just said only made Bridgette laugh harder and pull her back in against her. She held Monica like that until they reached their stop, but she thought about pretending like they had another few to go before it was time to get off in order to keep holding her like that.

The barbeque place was more quick-serve than an actual restaurant, and when they walked in, they had a few people in front of them, which gave her time to show Monica the menu behind the counter and explain it to her. The restaurant offered meat plates with sides, and Bridgette usually got the brisket, and a lot of it, with macaroni and cheese and cornbread. She planned to do the same tonight.

“Is the cornbread of the jalapeno variety here?”

Bridgette laughed, and they took a step to the counter.

“They have both. Do you want me to order for you?”

“I’m perfectly capable, thank you very much,” Monica replied, resting her head on Bridgette’s shoulder. “But, yeah, go ahead.”

Bridgette laughed under her breath and said, “Can we get a two-meat plate with pulled pork and sliced brisket, regular cornbread, mac and cheese, and another two-meat with the same sides and brisket? Burnt ends.”

“Drinks?” the woman behind the counter asked.

“Sweet tea,” Monica said.

“Same,” Bridgette added, liking that Monica was ordering a true Southern beverage.

The woman handed them two cups, which they’d fill on their own, and a number to take to their table. Having filled their cups, though, Bridgette watched Monica squeeze two lemons into the tea and set another one inside. So, she still wasn’t totally prepared for the sugar, it seemed. They walked down a long hallway that wasn’t lit well. It wasn’t dimmed on purpose or anything; it just wasn’t lit well. The hallway was so thin that Bridgette had to walk in front of Monica and pull her through it. When they reached the door, she pushed it open, and they were in the small courtyard of the restaurant. It was probably only two hundred square feet and had about ten tables squeezed into it.

She took Monica by the hand to a small table in the corner, where they’d be relatively alone and away from the group of people who had two tables pushed together in the other corner. They sat down then, and Bridgette removed her coat, hanging it over the back of the chair.

“It’s so quiet,” Monica noted, looking around and up.

“It’s all made of stone, so that helps. I love it here because it’s cut off from everything. The walls go up so high that you can’t really see what’s on the other side.”

The walls were dark-red-and-brown brick, and toward the middle and top of them, they were covered in vines of some plant Bridgette hadn’t ever learned the name of. Maybe it was ivy, but that couldn’t be the only plant that grew like that. Each table had a small tea candle in a red holder that allowed red light to flicker around the space. Each table also had a sauce holder with six different kinds of the stuff in it.

“Oh, which one of those do I stay away from?” Monica asked.

Bridgette took the holder and pulled out one bottle.

“This is their hottest sauce. You shouldn’t even smell this, given your reaction before.”

“Funny,” Monica said sarcastically.

Bridgette pulled out a second sauce and said, “This is a sweet sauce, but it’s, like, really sweet, so a little goes a long way.” She pulled out a third. “Here is their mustard barbecue. It’s not spicy, but it’s tangy, so take that for what you will.” She pulled out the fourth bottle. “This is a standard barbeque. Mild on the spice and a little sweet and tangy.” She pulled out the fifth. “This is Tabasco that they just put in here. So, go easy on that.” She pulled out the final bottle. “This is their medium-level spicy barbecue. I usually use this one and add a little Tabasco. I like the combination.”

“That’s a lot of options.”

“In some places here, you have more. This one is my favorite in all the restaurants, though.” Bridgette held up the sixth bottle. “It’s thin and just coats everything evenly.”

“So, be careful if I plan to use that one, or I’ll have brisket soup?” Monica asked.

Bridgette laughed and began putting all the bottles back into the holder. Their food arrived only a minute later, and Bridgette watched as Monica put a little bit of each of the sauces on the edge of her tray. She waited patiently as Monica dipped a piece of meat into one, tried it, and repeated it until she’d tasted all six of them.

“Holy shit!” Monica yelped, causing Bridgette to laugh as Monica tasted their spiciest sauce. “Not funny,” she added after she took a drink of her tea.

“I warned you.” Bridgette continued to laugh.

“That’s crazy. How do people eat that?”

“People eat even hotter than that,” Bridgette replied, putting some sauce onto her own plate.

“Well, not me. Give me that sweet sauce.”

They ate and talked as the loud group finally finished and left. More groups arrived, though, and eventually, it was too loud in the space to hear one another, so they dropped their trash into the can and left.

“So, what’s next?” Monica asked.

“Walk it off,” Bridgette replied. “I’m full. I could use a walk. You?”

“Sounds nice,” Monica agreed.

Before Bridgette knew it, they’d walked for well over two hours and had only stopped to grab a coffee to-go. They’d ended up in Jackson Square and continued walking since the night was cool without being cold.

“Well, well,” a voice said loud enough and in their direction that Bridgette was sure that the person was talking to her.

She turned to the right but didn’t see anyone she knew, so she decided she must have been wrong.

“Right on schedule,” the voice said again.

Bridgette turned some more and saw the fortune teller from the last time they’d been here. The woman winked at her and nodded down toward their joined hands. Bridgette gave her wide eyes and silently told her now was not the time. Monica hadn’t noticed and was talking about Aaron and how he played soccer as a kid. Bridgette walked them a little faster until they were in front of the cathedral.

“We’re stopping?” Monica asked.

“No, just pausing.”

Bridgette leaned in and kissed her sweetly, unable to wait any longer to do that.

“What brought that on?” Monica asked as she smiled back at her.

“Just had to do it,” she replied.

Then, she wondered if that was right on schedule, too.