S.E.C.R.E.T. Shared (Secret 2)

My shoulders sank. It was Will. Every time I made strides away from him, one look, one touch, one kiss and I was infected again.

“That’s part of it.” But the other, the part I didn’t want to tell him, was that outside of bed I thought of him as my bratty brother.

Mark placed a tender arm around me.

“Love is hard, Cassie. I know. I’m a musician.”

I almost snorted, but he was so damn endearing. I just accepted the gesture and leaned into him a little.

It had been three days since my interlude with Will in the new restaurant, since he’d pulled me into that kiss. In those three days we had sheepishly avoided each other at work, both of us over-apologizing for every awkward hallway passing, over-thanking each other for every favor of a poured coffee or a hammer handed over. Alone with me briefly in his office during a shift change, Will whispered that he wanted to get two things straight—and that it would be the last time he’d bring up what happened.

“One: I have no regrets for anything I did or said. And two: I still want you to take the job upstairs.”

“Fine,” I said, “I will. I’ll take the job, but the other? That can’t happen again. It’s not fair to me, it’s not fair to Tracina, or the baby.”

In hushed tones, both of us listening for sounds of footsteps coming down the hall, he promised no more drama, no more stolen kisses, no more sneaking around. We even shook on it, the shock of his skin electric as always. And today, looking at Mark’s attractive profile as he sat on the park bench next to me, I realized that since I didn’t have the ability to keep away from someone I really wanted or to be compelled by someone I didn’t want, I needed a man in the middle. I needed a wedge between me and Will, and me and Mark.

But the only other person who tweaked both my mind and body was Jesse, and he was cued up for a final go-around with Dauphine. Unless I could recruit a substitute. And that’s when it struck me like a marvelous bolt of lightning.

“… anyway, look, I’m just gathering adventures too, Cassie, and maybe you’re one of them. But if you’re not into this, that’s cool. No skin off my nose.”

My thoughts drifted. They were both young and brash and lanky. They both had sexy smirks. They both looked good in a white tank top, a rarity for any man other than a ’50s Marlon Brando. But while Jesse had a warmth, a kindness to him, maybe because he was a single dad, Mark was bratty. Jesse had tattoos, though I was still surprised Mark didn’t. I tried to calculate exactly when Dauphine might have her Jesse fantasy. She got back from Buenos Aires in a few days, so it would take place within a month. A wave of nervous energy ran through me. S.E.C.R.E.T. recruits were put through a battery of tests that took weeks. I had to act fast—

Mark snapped his fingers in front of my face.

“Where are you, Cassie?”

“Sorry. I’m here. The dogs … they’re so cute. I got distracted.” I turned to fully face him on the bench. “You know, I liked what you said about gathering adventures. You’re young. That’s precisely what you should be doing. You shouldn’t be tied down to one woman right now, right?”

“I guess,” he said. “But I’m a musician. We like having girlfriends. They ground us while we create.”

“Right.”

The dogs were circling each other, sniffing. I turned to look him in the eye, my mouth set in a determined line.

“So if you’re serious about ‘gathering adventures,’ I think I have one for you. It’s a big one. An incredible one. The kind of adventure you’re not going find anywhere else.”

“Or with anyone else?” he asked, leaning in to kiss me.

I held him off. “This is an adventure you’ll have … with other women. More interesting women than me. Adventurous women. If you are open to it.”

And just like that, a slow smile spread across Mark’s face. Men do have it easier, I thought. He didn’t need a preamble or assurances before taking in my proposition, the same shocking one Matilda had dropped on me, the one I had offered Dauphine a few months ago. He didn’t need to be warmed up, comforted or cajoled. He didn’t need to be gingerly approached. He didn’t have deep psychic obstacles to overcome or social conditioning to fight against. My offer didn’t cause him to question everything he had been taught about his role in the world or his sexuality. When I dangled the possibility of more sex, interesting sex, lots of sex, exactly the way he liked it and the way women liked it, he simply clasped his hands behind his head and said, “You have my attention, Cassie Robichaud. My full attention.”

Matild

a wasn’t as easy to convince.

“He has to go through a vigorous screening process, Cassie. That means medical, psychological, physical—”

“He’ll pass,” I said, tearing the label clean off my beer bottle.

“That’s a sign of sexual frustration,” she said matter-of-factly, pointing out my fidgeting.

“So is this request, believe me!”

Our usual meet-up spot, Tracy’s, was quiet for a Friday afternoon. Come to think of it, my shift at the Café had been pretty dead too. Tracina was glad for it, so pregnant now that people didn’t really feel comfortable having her wait on them because she looked like she could drop the baby right at their table. It was only a matter of weeks before she’d be off her feet entirely.

Will had posted for a replacement, but then his brother Jackson from Slidell asked if he’d take on his oldest daughter, Claire, a quirky, dreadlocked seventeen-year-old who wanted to finish high school at the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts, which had a campus not far from the Café. Between piercings and poetry readings, she promised she could work two nights a week and weekends, more shifts during the summer. Will was reluctant at first to have his unruly teenage niece also living with him, until Tracina pointed out the convenient babysitter possibilities once their child was born. So Claire started immediately, and immediately fit in at the restaurant by pissing off Dell and getting underfoot.