“You could have fucking called me, Noire.”
“She just returned.”
“Like, today?” she snaps back.
Emma doesn’t take shit, which I appreciate, but I don’t answer. Mercy’s reentrance into New Orleans is at her own pace. Not Emma’s. Not anyone’s.
She huffs and flicks her attention to Mercy again. “You’re not going to tell me where you were or what happened, are you?”
Mercy shakes her head. “It’s for the best. Tell me how you are.”
“Better now.” Emma’s lips tug down to a frown, but she pulls it together. “I’m the director at Winding River Treatment Center. Still friends with a lot of the girls from school. And engaged.” She flings her hand to a table near the dueling pianos, where a guy I’m familiar with offers a two-finger wave. “That’s Bryce. He doesn’t people well after a long week, and he didn’t want to interruptRyker Noireduring adate.”
“I’ve always known Mr. Wakeford was a smart man,” I quip while internally vowing to avoid public with Mercy in the future. I want her all to myself.
Mercy laughs that off and turns back to Emma. “You always did go for the introverts. I’m glad you’re happy.”
“I am.” Her face brightens, and she begins to update Mercy on their old social circle, so I whip out my phone and do a little recon work.
When I get her alone again, I plan to be ready.
Me: What the hell did you tell her, asshole?
Jax: Everything. Or nothing. Somewhere in between.
Me: No specifics or a fucking heads-up?
As if the musicians are privy to my current debacle, one of them kicks her chair backward, grabs a fiddle, jumps on top of the piano, and joins in with the others to play “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” as the text appears.
Jax: Where’s the fun in that?
Me: WTF?
Jax: Some of us are busy working here, man.
Me: So sorry to fucking interrupt. Maybe you could spare a goddamn minute since I’m about to be blindsided, thanks to you.
Jax: Exactly. You should be thanking me.
Me: ???
Jax: I got her high first so she wouldn’t kill you and let her unravel things at her own pace. It was time. Her eyes this morning … she’s hurting.
That spears me, even though her pain has nothing to do with what I’m hiding.
Me: I know.
After I swipe that response, my attention is drawn to an old friend of Mercy’s father on the other side of the restaurant.
Christ.Is everyone and their brother here tonight?
Jax: Still, she wants this. Wants you. Don’t lose her trust by keeping shit from her. Let her have some control, or she’ll feel trapped.
Me: When did you get so wise?
Jax: Had some good role models.
Me: Thanks.
