S.E.C.R.E.T. (Secret 1)

“Where’d he go?” Tracina asked.

“Who?”

“Your hot date?”

“Oh … he went to get the car. We’re leaving. We have to go. Yeah … so—” I could feel sweat dripping down my cleavage and the back of my neck.

“But the band is going to play another set. These are tough tickets to get your hands on, Cassie.”

“Maybe they’ve heard enough music for tonight,” Will said stiffly, taking a gulp of his beer. Was that jealousy I sensed? He could barely look at me. I had to get out of there.

“Well, I don’t want to keep him waiting so … see you tomorrow,” I mumbled, waving and already walking towards the elevators.

Holy hell. Inside the elevator, alone, I hopped up and down as though that would make it get to the ground floor faster. I had to get out and pull myself together. I let a stranger put his hands on me, in me—in public—and drive me half wild, while my boss and his girlfriend were standing somewhere nearby. What had they seen? How could something so marvelously sexy take such an ill turn? But I had to let it go for now. I’d talk to Matilda. She’d know what to do.

The elevator doors opened. I stepped out hurried through the lobby and out the glass doors to the street. It was a lovely night, the air refreshing. The limo was waiting exactly where it had dropped me off. I opened the back door before the driver could react, climbed in and sat down, still feeling the night air travel up my skirt, cooling the dampness between my thighs.

Every May, the Spring Fling on Magazine Street highlighted just how little Frenchmen Street had to offer in terms of daytime attractions. Five miles of shopping, music and pedestrian traffic drew crowds to the restaurants and cafés in the Lower Garden District. No such luck in Marigny. Frenchmen was a nighttime spot, where people came to listen to jazz and get drunk. Will’s face said it all as he pored over the receipts from the previous day, the muscles in his forearms twitching as he punched in the figures on his aging adding machine.

“Why did my dad have to buy this building and put a daytime café on this street? And why did the Castilles have to build that condo right across from us?”

He let his pencil drop. It had been a bad month financially.

“Special delivery,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. I pointed to the Americano on his desk that I’d freshly brewed for him. He didn’t even look at it.

“What if we put a half-dozen tables in the back on my parking spot, string some patio lanterns, pipe in music and call it a patio? It might be pretty back there. Quieter,” he said in a daze.

I could have been anyone standing there.

Just then, Tracina bounded into the office.

“If we’re talking about renos, fix the toilets, the broken chairs and the goddamn floor tiles on the patio first, babe.” S

he tossed her purse onto the chair in the corner. Then she whipped off her baggy white T-shirt in front of me and Will and changed into a tight red one she plucked out of her purse, the one she always wore on the night shift. She was so casual, so confident with her tiny, perfect body.

I tried to avert my eyes.

Spring Fling gave Will more gray hairs than losing business to Mardi Gras or the jazz festival. But gray hairs on Will only made him hotter. He was one of those guys who got better looking with age, something I had been about to say out loud that morning when Tracina interrupted. My two escapades and the boldness they were engendering in me had me blurting out all sorts of things. I was even swearing more, much to the consternation of poor Dell and her little red pocket Bible.

“Busy today?” Tracina asked, tucking in her T-shirt.

I was ending my shift just as she was beginning hers, with no tables to hand over. It was that dead.

“Not really.”

“Not at all,” said Will. “Spring Fling.”

“Fuck Spring Fling,” she said, prancing out of the room.

I watched her fluffy ponytail bob its way down the hall to the dining room.

“She’s amazing,” I said.

“That’s one word for her,” Will responded, dragging his fingers through his hair. He did that so often I wondered if there were trenches in his skull. Finally, he seemed to notice I was there. He looked up at me. “Plans tonight?”

“Nope.”

“Not seeing that guy?”