Page 7 of February (New Orleans #2)

“H ow are you recovering?” Bridgette asked.

“I’m fine. Thank you,” Monica replied as she gathered her things from the conference room table.

“So, I assume you’ll be staying away from the spicy stuff for a while, huh?” Bridgette crossed her arms over her chest and smirked.

“You think you’re being funny, but you’re really not,” Monica said, tucking a file folder into that designer bag she always carried. “I understand that you don’t like me being here, but I am trying to help.”

“Help by taking my family’s company away?”

“Close the door,” Monica ordered sternly.

Strangely, Bridgette both obeyed and swallowed hard because that was kind of hot.

“Your parents mismanaged this company; that’s just the reality. I had nothing to do with it failing. And, in all honesty, I didn’t want to be here. This isn’t a good deal for my company. But my father asked me to come here personally to help an old friend, so that’s what I’m doing. It would really help things along if you weren’t such an absolute asshole to me so I can find out what you do to see if there’s a job for you at Arnette, but–”

“I don’t need your job,” Bridgette interrupted. “I don’t need charity.”

“Well, that’s good because I wasn’t offering you charity. I was going to offer to get you an interview, but I guess you don’t want that, either. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have a wrap waiting for me at the hotel.”

“Of course, you do.” Bridgette chuckled. “Are you going to explore this place at all while you’re in town?”

“Why would I? I’m here for business. Then, I go home. The sooner, the better, if you ask me, because while your parents are lovely, and Dan is… well, sweet, some of the citizens aren’t all that kind.”

“Dan likes you. He’s got a cougar fetish.”

“Did you just call me a cougar?” Monica lifted her bag off the counter.

“Not as an insult. I just meant that he likes older women. Dan’s younger than me.”

“And how old, exactly, are you? Twelve?”

“Maturity-wise? Sometimes, yeah. I’m almost twenty-eight, though.”

“Well, you act like some twelve-year-olds I’ve known.”

“How many twelve-year-olds have you known?”

“Enough,” Monica said as she walked around the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you tomorrow, I suppose.”

“Fine. But you’re missing out. New Orleans is a great town.”

“For college kids looking to party,” Monica returned.

Bridgette mock-scowled at her and said, “Not just for them. Skip the Quarter, and I think you’d be surprised.”

“I’d rather be surprised by my seaweed wrap tonight.”

“What kind of surprises can you possibly get from seaweed?” Bridgette asked.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Monica replied with a small smile.

Bridgette moved out of the way, letting Monica walk past.

“Hey, are you heading out?” Dan asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I’ll walk out with you,” he replied. “I was wondering about her. Your dad said that she’s here to help?”

“Sure,” Bridgette said, not wanting to lie to him but not being able to tell the truth, either.

“How long will she be here?”

They walked over to their desks.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“She’s…”

Bridgette rolled her eyes and said, “Hot?”

“Yeah. She is , right?”

“Dan, she’s not your type, trust me,” Bridgette replied as she lifted her bag off the desk.

“Do you think it would be bad for me to ask her for a drink? Would your parents be mad?”

“I think she only drinks top-shelf, and I know what you make working here, so, unless you’ve got some trust fund I don’t know about, I’d save your time and your money.”

◆◆◆

“Where’s Kyle?” Jill asked Melinda as they walked into the piano bar.

“She’s talking to her sister on the phone. She might join later, but she has some work to do on the house, so she probably won’t.”

“She has other people working on the house,” Bridgette pointed out.

“The other house. She’s going to rent out her grandmother’s old place. It needs a little work, too, but it’s stuff she thinks she can handle, so she’s trying to save money.”

“She’s rich. Why worry about that?” Jill asked.

“Ky’s not like that.” Melinda nodded toward an empty booth in the dimly blue-lit bar. “She just got that inheritance. She’s still not used to having money to spend on things. Besides, I am not telling her to hire anyone if there’s a good chance I’ll get to see my girlfriend wearing just a sports bra and shorts and maybe even a toolbelt, with sweat all over her body.”

“You’re picturing that now, aren’t you?” Bridgette asked as she laughed and sat down.

“I am. Can you blame me?”

“Nope. She is hot. I’ve always thought so,” Bridgette replied.

“Speaking of hot… What do you think about her ?” Jill pointed to a woman who was sitting at a nearby booth with four other women.

“Cute,” Melinda said.

“Yeah,” Bridgette agreed.

“Should I go talk to her? She’s got a group of women around her. Why do we always travel in packs?”

“Because men,” Bridgette answered.

“Yeah,” Jill said as she continued to stare at the woman. “Oh.”

“Oh, what?” Melinda asked.

“I was just looking at the blonde, but…” Jill nodded. “The brunette is…”

Bridgette followed Jill’s glance. A brunette woman with light-blue eyes had turned to watch the pianist begin playing. Jill had good taste. The brunette was gorgeous.

“She’s hot,” Bridgette noted.

“Yeah,” Jill said as she stared and looked like she now existed in some far-off land where she and the brunette were currently getting naked together, but in a slow and sweet kind of way.

“Talk to her,” Melinda suggested.

“Maybe,” Jill replied. “If she goes to the bar or the bathroom by herself or something.”

“You could just walk over and ask her if she’s here with anyone or if she wants a drink,” Bridgette said.

“And if her girlfriend is the one sitting next to her?” Jill argued.

“Then, you’d know.”

“Are you really giving her that advice?” Melinda teased.

“Hey, if I had done what I’m suggesting Jill do now, I might have taken Kyle home that night at the pub instead of you ending up with her.”

Melinda scowled at her.

“I know. I know.” Bridgette laughed.

“You two have known each other for a long time. Has that ever happened?” Jill asked.

“What?” Bridgette turned her head to her, looking for clarification.

“You two being into the same woman. Kyle doesn’t really count because Bridge didn’t talk to her. She just saw her at the pub.”

“I guess we both had a thing for–” Bridgette started.

“Beth Hargrave,” Melinda finished.

They both laughed.

“Who’s that?”

“She used to work at Southern Hospitality with me,” Bridgette explained. “She was technically an intern. Beautiful and smart. Headed to business school at USC the following semester. We both liked her, but since she worked for me, I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“And I didn’t do anything out of fairness and solidarity.”

“Also, she was straight, so not like you gave up the love of your life there, Mel.”

“Well, clearly, I didn’t, because I met Kyle.”

“Love of your life?” Jill asked. “It’s been what, a month?”

“What happened to you taking things slow?” Bridgette added as the bartender finally approached.

They put in their order, and he walked off.

“I can’t help it. I know I said I wouldn’t jump into anything anymore, but she’s it .”

“Because some fortune teller told you about your future babies with M names?” Bridgette teased.

“Because I feel it. I feel it all the time with her.” Melinda leaned forward conspiratorially. “Before, whenever I was with whomever I was dating, it was great, but the moment we’d be apart, I’d have these second thoughts. Am I just feeling like I love them, but it’s not really love? Do I like the fact that they’re thinking they want to leave New Orleans one day? They’re a big drama queen. Could I deal with that forever? That kind of thing.” She sighed. “I don’t have any second thoughts with Ky. I’m not sitting here thinking about how her family is a bit of a mess, that it might take a while for it to calm down, and if I want to deal with that. I’m not worried about her regretting the move here or thinking that we’re going too fast. I’m just happy, and I miss her. She’s ten minutes away, and I miss her.”

“That’s sweet, Mel,” Jill said.

“Hey.”

Bridgette looked up at that greeting and was surprised to see Toya standing there.

“Hey,” she replied.

“Hi, Mel. Jill,” Toya greeted both of them with a smile.

“Hey, Toya,” Melinda said.

“Long time,” Jill added.

“Yeah,” the woman said as she looked back at Bridgette. “Bridge, can I borrow you for a minute?”

“Uh…” Bridgette looked at Melinda, who gave her wide eyes. “Yeah, I guess.”

She stood and followed Toya, who walked them past the stage, where the pianist was in the middle of some slow jazz number Bridgette didn’t recognize, until they were at the staircase that led to the second story of the bar. Once there, they found a couple of comfortable chairs facing one another, and Bridgette sat down, with Toya taking the hint and sitting down across from her.

“Coincidence?” Bridgette asked.

“You know I work across the street. I could ask you the same question,” Toya replied.

“This is Melinda’s favorite bar.”

“I know.” Toya paused. “We ran out of cherries, so I was sent over here to get some, and I saw you. I thought we should talk.”

“Okay,” Bridgette said.

“What happened yesterday?”

“We had sex.”

“And you ran off.”

“Yeah,” Bridgette admitted. “I’m not proud of that.”

“Why did it happen? Are you starting to want–”

“No. The opposite, actually,” Bridgette interjected.

“The opposite?”

“Toya, it’s a problem that I just want to have sex with you and nothing more.”

“I thought that we both wanted that arrangement.”

“It wasn’t really an arrangement. There weren’t rules or anything. You wanted to call me ‘baby’ and talk. I realized that I can’t do that and have sex with you and not have it be more, but at the same time, I don’t want it to be more, either.”

“So, we’re somehow good? I guess I don’t know what’s going on right now. We’re good, right?”

“Yes, but not how you think,” she replied. “I was going to call you. I just needed a little time to figure it out myself.”

Toya nodded slowly.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, okay?”

“No good news has ever started with that sentence.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Bridgette sighed. “I don’t want to sleep with you anymore.”

“Okay. Got it,” Toya said as she ran her hands up and down her thighs rapidly.

“I want a real relationship.”

“I’m sure you can find that,” Toya replied. “We can just still have sex while you look.”

“That’s not what I want,” Bridgette replied. “I thought it was, but yesterday, I realized that you and I are done. We were done months ago, I know. I just wasn’t ready to admit that, so I was hanging on to what you could offer. Yesterday, though, I figured out that I don’t…”

“Even want to have sex with me anymore?”

Bridgette shook her head.

“Do you regret it? The two times we–”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t know what it does for you and me in the future – like, if a friendship could ever happen, or whether or not it should happen – but I don’t regret being with you like that. I think I needed it to know that you and I aren’t meant for anything more than what we had and that I’m over you. Does that sound bad?”

“No, I get it. But I guess that’s that, huh?” Toya said. “I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for, Bridge.”

“I hope you do, too,” Bridgette replied. “I want you to be happy.”

“Likewise,” Toya replied as she stood. “Well, I have to get those cherries and get back to the bar before some tourists start complaining about their cherryless drinks.”

“Yeah,” Bridgette said with a small smile as she stood up as well. “I’d say we could just be friends, but–”

“Not for a long time, probably, huh?” Toya interrupted.

“Probably.”

Toya leaned in and kissed her on the cheek before she turned to go and headed down the stairs. Bridgette let out another long sigh, and when she turned on her feet, she was surprised to see the one and only Monica Arnette sitting at the much smaller bar that was upstairs. The bar wasn’t busy, and Monica appeared to be alone. She had a drink in her hand and was staring at the screen behind the bar that showed the pianist playing. Why this woman wasn’t downstairs herself right now, just watching him about ten feet from her, was beyond Bridgette, but now she had a choice to make. She could walk back downstairs, enjoy her time with her friends, and leave probably without Monica even knowing she’d been here at all, or she could walk up and say hi.

“Hey.”

Bridgette turned around to see Melinda standing there.

“Oh, hey.”

“I came to check on you. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. She’s gone.”

“What was that about?” Melinda asked.

“Long story,” Bridgette replied.

“She’s not trying to get back together with you, is she?”

“No, we’re okay. She saw me when she came here to grab some cherries. I guess her bar was out of them.”

“I always forget she works across the street. Should we stop coming here?”

Bridgette shook her head and replied, “No. Like I said, we’re fine. She just didn’t want to be rude if I noticed her and she left without saying anything.”

“Okay. Well, I have to pee. Will you wait for me, and we can go back down together? I’m trying to give Jill some space in case the brunette sees that she’s by herself now and wants to talk or if Jill works up the courage to walk over to her table.”

Bridgette chuckled and said, “Sure.”

Melinda squeezed her forearm and gave her a compassionate smile before walking off toward the bathroom. Bridgette turned quickly to see that Monica was still facing the screen and, most likely, hadn’t noticed her presence there at all. She’d just told a lie to her friend about how Toya had, supposedly, said hi so that Bridgette didn’t think of her as rude, and now, Bridgette was standing there, about ten feet away, and totally capable of just saying hello.

“Monica?”

Surprised to hear her name, Monica turned around and saw Bridgette.

“Bridgette?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Oh. Hi. I was… having a drink.”

“Doesn’t your fancy hotel have a bar?”

“Does this one have your name on it?” Monica tossed back.

Bridgette laughed and replied, “No. I’m just surprised to see you out of your cocoon.”

“I tried to take your advice.”

“What about your seaweed wrap?”

“I moved it.”

Bridgette nodded and said, “Well, I just wanted to say hi.”

“Right.” Monica looked down at her half-empty drink as if she was considering something. “I’m leaving after this anyway.”

“Okay. I assume your limo will be picking you up?”

“It’s a town car. And yes.”

“I’m not rich, so I don’t know the difference between the two,” Bridgette joked.

“Hey, ready?” Melinda asked on her return from the bathroom.

Monica looked back and forth between the two of them. Bridgette couldn’t read her expression, but she wondered what the woman was thinking.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

When Monica nodded, Bridgette turned around to go with Melinda.

“Who’s that?”

“Just someone having a drink,” Bridgette told her as they walked down the stairs.

“Really? She’s kind of hot.”

Melinda wasn’t wrong. This was also the first time Bridgette had seen Monica in anything other than a business suit. She’d been wearing a pair of skinny jeans, black ballet flats, and an off-the-shoulder sweater that brought out her blue eyes. Her brown hair had been down when she’d been keeping it up in a clip at the office. Her more casual look almost made her look like a completely different person; a person Bridgette tried to force herself not to think about while she enjoyed a drink with her friends.