Page 16 of Man of His Dreams

“Aw, man, you don’t have to?—”

“No force on earth could stop me from purchasing this book.”

Flip realized that they’d attracted the attention of several nearby shoppers, who now stared curiously. Tony noticed too. “This is Flip Devin. You should buy his books. I haven’t read them yet because I’ve just met him, but spending time with him is fantastic. And not just because he’s cute.”

As everyone laughed, Flip felt his face heat. The thing about being an author was that—unless you were huge like Stephen King—people rarely recognized you. There were some definite benefits to anonymity. He didn’t think he was the type who’d enjoy the attention of paparazzi. But it was also sort of nice to be briefly recognized, even if only by a handful of bookshop customers.

Tony took pity on him and lowered his voice. “Are you going to get a book too?”

“Can you recommend one on New Orleans history?”

“I think I can manage that.” Tony spent a few minutes peering at the shelves, his mouth pursed thoughtfully, as if this decision was important. Finally he nodded to himself and pulled out a specific volume. “A lot of these books are great. But you seemed pretty interested in Storyville, so you can start with this one.”

Flip took the book. “Does it talk about the musicians?”

“A little, yeah. And also the Black women who ran the houses—some of them got very rich—and the politicians who stuck their fingers into everything.”

What if the book mentioned a pianist named Scratch? Well, that would provide his final confirmation. “I’ll buy this one,” he announced.

Two other people obeyed Tony’s earlier command, each purchasing one of Flip’s books and asking him to sign. That left a couple of his books on the shelves—one copy each of two titles—and the salesperson had Flip sign those too. As Tony chatted with the other buyers, Flip inscribed the flyleaf of his book.

“Well, at least I’ve had some income today,” said Flip after he and Tony made their way outside. It had grown dark by then, and the city’s wildly uneven sidewalks made walking a little hazardous. They strolled slowly past a cemetery, pausing to peer through the locked gate, and then headed back to Magazine Street.

They paused at one point, Tony standing close. “You’ve been incredibly patient with my lectures today.”

“I love your lectures.” That was the absolute truth. Flip felt as if he could listen to Tony for years and never get tired of him.

“Yeah?” Shining eyes and a slightly cocked head.

“Yeah.”

For several moments they simply stood and stared at each other. Flip felt slightly fizzy, as if he were a little drunk on champagne, and he had to stuff his hands into his pockets to keep from touching.

Then Tony gave a small sigh. “How about something more substantial than those oysters? What food do you like?”

Flip would have happily consumed a bowl of swamp mud if that kept him in Tony’s company. “Take us somewhere you like.”

That earned a smile.

They ended up at an unpretentious café with a bright and airy interior and sat at one of the few unoccupied tables. Lively conversations filled the space, and servers rushed around with overflowing plates. A majority of the menu items were breaded and deep-fried, and Flip’s stomach grumbled at the delicious smells. “Everything looks amazing. How am I supposed to choose?”

“You can point at random. Nothing here’s gonna disappoint.” Tony briefly chewed his lip. “Hey, will it make you uncomfortable if I order a beer?”

“You noticed I abstained at the oyster place, huh?”

“Yeah, and you only wanted to peek inside the Carousel Bar. I’m perfectly fine with an iced tea.”

So Tony was considerate too. Seriously, the man was too perfect; he had to have a fatal flaw. “I appreciate you asking, but order whatever you like. I’m not really a drinker but it doesn’t bother me when other people imbibe.” Then, because he felt as if Tony’s thoughtfulness deserved an explanation, he added, “My parents were drunks and addicts. I’ve always figured it’s better if I sort of… avoid the first steps on that path.”

Tony regarded him closely, and maybe he would have said something except the waitress arrived. Like Flip, Tony ordered iced tea.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” said Flip after the waitress left.

“I wanted to. I’d rather be completely sober around you anyway. So I don’t miss a thing.”

Flip’s heart made a funny little bounce, and he realized he was giving a sappy smile. “Yeah?”

“I can’t remember when I’ve had a better day. You’re damn good company, Flip.”

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