In front of the bar, two men sat on stools, nothing but outlined, strong shadows laughing in the night. The heat from their breaths rose in thick clouds. The wind picked up and Gabriel suggested that we keep walking. I agreed with a laugh. The singer was good but not worth freezing over. I still had a low-grade fever, and my skin felt more vulnerable to the elements.
“Scarlett Rose Poésy?” One of the men stood from the stool, his voice reaching me loud and clear.
The mention of my maiden name gave all four of us pause. I craned my neck, trying to see him clearly. The voice…it sounded familiar, but I couldn’t…
Oh hell.If this guy were a meteorite, he’d be the one to fall on my head. Him and his buddy emerged from the shadows, taking their stools and placing them closer to the sidewalk.
His black hair shone like a seal’s skin in the light of the flickering lantern. He ran a hand through it, flattening it. His shoulders filled out the sweater he wore, long sleeves pushed up to reveal more tattoos than skin. His beard was longer than I remembered, but his eyes were still the same intense blue. Long legs cradled the wood beneath, spread out, feet firmly on the ground.
Taking a pull of his beer, he studied me. He sighed, smiling after. “You cut your hair, but you’re even more gorgeous than I remember.”
My hand went to my hair without a second thought. The heart in my chest raced, the blood in my veins fought against the cold.
“It’s been a long time, princess.”
“Tell me how long,” Brando said from behind me.
Nick…Lomas raised his eyes to meet Brando’s. He looked back at me.
“How old were you then? Eighteen? You didn’t look it. Not in the dress you were wearing.” His buddy laughed. They both took pulls of their beers. “How’s your friend? Violet?”
If Brando was stiff before, rigor mortis had set in.
“Fine.”
“I’ve been waiting for you ever since that night.”
“You have?”Shut up, Scarlett!
“Of course.” He grinned at me, a look passing in his eyes that even I caught. It was the memory of that night. “I still have your shoe, princess. I followed you home after, but it was too late to knock. The next day I came back. Eunice was her name, I think. She told me you left. I found you in Natchitoches, but your father sent me away.”
“Oh.” I swallowed the air down wrong and almost choked.
“Do you even remember that night?” he asked.
Before I could answer, leave him with anice to see you,goodbye, another guy emerged from the shadows, called for Nick, and then paused when he saw Eva. “Evangeline,” he said, nodding. The greeting was curt, nothing friendly about it.
“Knox,” she said, nodding back.
This Knox assessed the situation, and when he came to me, a slow grin spread. “No fucking way. It’s her. Your mystery girl.” He slapped a hand to Nick’s shoulder. “Are you going to marry her now?” He laughed, but his laugh faded when he made eye contact with Eva again.
Two steady, lethal vibrations seemed to be shaking the earth from behind me. One was felt bone deep. The other was on the surface. I started to tremble.
“You promised me.” Nick winked.
“Tell us the story,” Brando said, his voice even, friendly enough, but it was nothing but a cajole—one that would lead a foe into his death trap. He wanted the details before he ended the conversation.
Lord have mercy.
Picture it—July,1998. It was my eighteenth birthday. Just months before Brando came back into my life, Violet and I took a trip with my parents to New Orleans. We stayed at their place on Royal, and that night, they had a fundraiser to go to. Violet dared me, as usual, to seize the night and sneak out.
I had. That was how I had come to meet Nick Lomas, who was about to cause an unruly amount of mess in my life.
“Scarlett and Violet were on the run for some fun. Naturally.” He looked at Knox and laughed.
“Naturally,” Brando said, his voice as dry as hay about to burst into flames.
“Scarlett found me.” Nick opened his muscular arms, tattoos glowing against the tan of his skin, wide mouth set in a grin. The beer bottle dangled from his long fingers—ink on each one. “Or I found her. We danced all night, and right before the sun came up, she raced home, losing her pretty shoe on the way out. A real-life Cinder-fucking-rella. Before she left, I did get her to promise me something. She’d marry me if I ever found her again. I told her it would be at another bar. Here we are.” His eyes turned to me. “I have it in my locker, your shoe.” He nodded his head back, toward the bar. “My good luck charm.”
