Page 29 of She's Like the Wind
“Who?” I asked because she was waiting for me to play the game.
“A bachelorette party!” Her eyes were wide.
“I was gone for like an hour.” I set the bag ofchampagne bottles on the antique table where we had our register.
She nodded vigorously. “There were ten of them, and they bought all ten of the feather-trimmed tap sets, the matching black lace blindfolds, and—get this—every single pair of the satin ‘Yes, Mistress’panties we had in stock.”
I did a quick calculation and understood why she was so thrilled. That was a two-thousand-dollar sale, of which she got a five percent commission.
“Nice work!” I high-fived her.
She picked up the wine bottles. “I’ll put these in the fridge, and then I gotta get to court.”
Kadisha was interning at the public defender’s office as part of her master’s degree in social work.
After Kadisha left, I poured myself some champagne. The hell with it. I deserved a nice glass of Veuve Clicquot after seeing the love of my life move the fuck on with his life.
The son of a bitch!
It was unfair, I knew. It wasn’t his problem that my feelings ran away from me, like a second line disappearing down Royal Street—but seeing him happy with another woman filled me with hurt and jealousy.
I looked at the faux antique clock on the wall and sighed. I had another hour to go before I closed. Icouldclose early if I wanted to, but on Friday evenings, as was just proven with that bachelorette party, thingscould get interesting. So, I decided to get busy with redoing some of the table displays.
Fifteen minutes before closing, the bell above the door chimed. I looked up from the table I was resetting. A couple walked in—stylish, confident, both dressed in that casual-rich way that said, ‘Money’s not the question, taste is the answer.’
The woman was stunning, with silver-streaked braids, a cropped leather jacket, and a neon green clutch that clashed perfectly with her shoes.
The man was tall, sharp, and charismatic as hell. He had that “I own the room, and I know it” energy.
Messy curls, olive skin, tailored slacks, and a smile that was half charm, half dare.
He looked damn familiar.
“I told you we had to check this place out.” The woman scanned one of the table settings that was leaning toward S&M. “It’s always curated to perfection.”
“I never argue with a woman who knows her lingerie,” the man replied with a warm, velvety laugh.
They made a handsome couple. He was all bold angles while she was all fierce femininity. They seemed like precisely the kind of impossibly cool couple who might own a penthouse and adopt rescue greyhounds.
“May I help you?” I said to the woman, and she waved a hand.
“I’m going to browse for a minute.”
“Of course.” I went back to the table I was working on when I smelled the man’s cologne and felt his shadow on me.
“Hi.”
I looked at him and couldn’t help but smile. The man was charm personified. “Can I help you?”
“I think we have a common friend.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He chuckled. “No, really, it’s not a line. Holly Matherson.”
“Oh my God! It’s been an age. She moved to Memphis. How is she?” The words spilled out of me.
Holly had been a friend when I’d first moved to New Orleans, and we continued to stay in touch on and off and met up whenever she was in the city.
