Page 5 of The Flirt

Scarlett: Nope.

Ariana: By the way, I’ve heard through the grapevine that Simon is giving the kitchen staff a hard time.

My stomach clenched. Simon was my ex. We’d worked together at the restaurant in Seattle. After they promoted him to chef, he started to treat me like I meant nothing to him. And now that I was gone, he was taking it out on the rest of the staff? That was crazy.

Scarlett: Sounds like Simon. By the way, I know my apartment is tiny, but you're welcome to visit any time.

Ariana: Thanks. I'll take you up on it whenever my boss will approve a vacation.

Scarlett: By that time, I’ll be an expert on the city.

Ariana: You've been an expert since you were five years old.

I laughed at her comment and grabbed the key, locking the door as I left the apartment. I was only on the second floor, so I took the staircase.

Ariana had known my passion for NOLA since we were kids and had heard all about my infatuation many times. My obsession began when my parents brought me here on my fifth birthday. I might have inherited my strange affiliation to the South from Mom. She named me after the famous Scarlett O'Hara, so no wonder I turned out the way I did.

A few years ago, I started watching The Vampire Diaries, which became my addiction. That was closely followed by its spinoff, The Originals, which took place in New Orleans as well. Guess who became even more obsessed with the city. Yup, this girl here. I loved The Originals even more than The Vampire Diaries. Most fans had a clear favorite among the leading guys—Damon Salvatore—but I was a Klaus Mikaelson girl through and through.

My studio was very close to Loyola University, and I walked with quick steps to St. Charles Avenue. I’d been surprised at how many short-term accommodations there were in the University District before I realized that they must cater to students. It was all meant to be, I swear.

I took out my phone and glanced at the map. There was a streetcar station not far away from here. Yes, yes, yes! I was heading straight into the French Quarter on this fine afternoon.

When I arrived at the station, I noticed there was already a line; roughly two dozen or more people were waiting for a ride.

One of them informed me, "It's a bit delayed."

"That's fine. I'm not on a schedule." I made a mental note to inquire if it usually had delays, though, because I never wanted to be late for work. The dark green streetcar pulled in only a few minutes later, and it was packed.

I smiled for no reason at all as I stepped inside. There wasn’t a place to sit, but it didn't matter. I was in New Orleans.

As we started down the road, I kept trying to peek out the window between other people, but it wasn't easy. I wondered if it was this crowded in the early hours of the morning, too, but I’d worry about that later. I’d find a way to get to work.

We passed Loyola, and I made a mental note to check if there were tours of the university. I loved the redbrick building. It had charm and style and a lot of history.

Since I couldn't look out the window, I pulled out my phone and decided to read a bit about my employers. I’d only met Zachary LeBlanc briefly in one of the online interviews, but he said we wouldn’t be working directly together. Holding on tight to the rail with one hand, I searched online with the other to see what I could find. Every chef worth their salt knew about LeBlanc & Broussard’s Restaurant on Royal Street. The history behind the name was very interesting. The LeBlancs had always owned restaurants and pastry shops around the city. The Broussards owned competing establishments, like coffee shops and jazz clubs. The restaurant itself had only carried the name LeBlanc up until the families were united through marriage. The Wikipedia article didn't go into more details, and there wasn’t too much published about either of the families that I could find, but it sounded very intriguing.

I did find one list with all the establishments owned by The Orleans Conglomerate. And wow.

They owned more than fifty establishments. Most were in New Orleans, but there were a few others spread throughout Louisiana as well. And there was also a mention that the company was currently run by the six LeBlanc brothers. I wondered how involved they were on a day-to-day basis or if I'd even see them.

As we entered Canal Street, I decided to jump off the car, wanting to explore the rest on foot. Once I stepped onto the sidewalk, I consulted my phone. I was lost without it. Sometimes I got lost even with GPS.

According to my map, Royal Street was one street over, which gave me an idea. I could go check out the restaurant tonight, to make sure I knew where it was and I wouldn't run late tomorrow morning, trying to find it.

Although, to be fair, there was no mistaking it. The building was very emblematic. I'd fallen in love with it just from the photos. It was an old building with a terracotta-colored exterior and three levels of black wrought iron railing on the balconies. There had also been multiple fern plants hanging from the ceiling in the pics, but I wondered if they looked so vibrantly green in real life too. I snapped a picture of the entrance to Royal Street as I approached and immediately sent it to Mom.

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear jazz music. God, the city was so alive, and I loved it! Taking in a deep breath, I realized there had to be a bakery nearby, because I could smell the sugar and cinnamon in the air.

Mom called me the next second. I stopped at the corner of Royal and Canal and answered, putting the phone to my ear. "Hey, Mom."

"Scarlett, how are you? We thought you were busy unpacking and getting settled, and we didn't want to disturb you."

"No, I threw in the towel after unpacking one bag. I don't have anywhere to put the rest of my clothes, so I called it quits."

"Is the apartment really that small?"

"As expected, but it doesn't exactly have a lot of storage space. I'll manage. Don't you worry."

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