Page 16 of Cruel Existence

“What is this place?” she asked.

I laughed. “You’ll see.” We had driven farther out of town toward the riverbank. We were in bayou territory.

I walked around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for her.

“Picnic tables?” Her head tilted.

“You’ve had New Orleans’s finest champagne. Now you need to experience the finest oysters.”

She shook her head as I led her to a table covered with a red and white vinyl cloth. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“Trust me.”

She sat sideways to spin and thread her legs over the bench. A string of lights dangled over the table. I climbed in across from her.

I placed the remainder of the champagne bottle on the table from the bar. Marguerite had wrapped and bagged it for me on the way out the door. We waited for a server.

“It’s after midnight. Why is this place still open?” she asked. “And packed.” She looked left and right at the crowded tables.

“I told you. It’s the best.” I ordered a platter of oysters when the waiter arrived and asked for cups.

“You seem so normal,” Amara commented. “It’s weird how normal you are. It’s almost scary.”

“I am normal.” I huffed. “Why wouldn’t I be?” It was a lie. Nothing about my life or my family was normal. I wanted to pretend for this beautiful woman that it could be. That I wasn’t the darkness that lurked in my soul.

She shook her head. “No. You’re royalty in New Orleans. That makes you abnormal and hardly an impartial judge. I knowwhat royalty means where I come from. In New Orleans, it’s an entirely different level. So it’s the Russian families in power here, not the Italian. But the rules are the same.”

The rules were not the same. Capos and brigadiers were not equals. Mobsters and Bratva were not equally trained. She was in over her head in a darker and more deadly world. It was better to keep her away from it all.

“I don’t want to talk about work.” I brushed off her interest in our family’s line of business.

I poured our champagne into paper cups. Amara’s eyes widened when she saw the oysters on ice arrive.

“You eat this?” she pointed at them.

I winked. “You’ll love them.”

I could tell she was against the platter. She didn’t like how they looked.

“Come here,” I urged her to lean over the table. I topped an oyster with hot sauce and placed it on her tongue.

She cautiously closed her mouth. I waited for the reaction. The distrust turned to a smile.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” I cocked my head.

“They’re good.” She nodded. “Really good.”

I laughed. “My work here is done.”

We drank and made our way around the shells on the platter. By the time we finished, we were the only ones still sitting at a table. The place was empty. The server cleared our table, taking the vinyl cover with him. I gave him an extra hundredto leave the lanterns on over our table and to close down the outside restaurant. I wanted to be alone with her. I couldn’t give her total freedom, but I could give her one night of it.

“This version of New Orleans isn’t bad.” Amara dangled the paper cup between her delicate fingers. She was relaxed. At ease. She wasn’t the same girl I had discovered in the pool house a few hours ago.

I climbed out of the table and strolled to her side. I sat, sliding my body next to hers.

I’d never wanted to kiss a woman as badly as I wanted to kiss her. Booze. Oysters. Starry sky. Crackling chemistry. Fuck. How did I show restraint? How did I not pull her under with me if I did?

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