Page 91 of Girl Between
“Why did you?”
Truthfully Dana wasn’t sure. Maybe it was because she wanted an excuse to stay in New Orleans. Maybe it was because they’d been talking about the hole the absence of family leaves. Maybe it was because she was craving female companionship after losing the two women she’d been closest to. Or maybe she was just a pushover. “I don’t know,” Dana admitted.
“Well, I’m glad you did,” he said, flashing that dazzling grin of his in her direction.
“It looks like I’m going to owe you another raincheck though. Can I drop you by the station? I need to see a man about a dress.”
81
Jake swirledthe amber liquid in his rocks glass, staring at the way it distorted the bar top from gray to green. The view was ever changing at the Monteleone’s famous Carousel Bar. Jake wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. At least the moody vibe matched his own.
Even in the daylight, the dark gray walls, antiqued mirrors and worn wooden floors remained somber. Jake chose the lion seat at the deserted bar. Not because it was the most feared of all the creatures embroidered on the backs of the ornate bar stools, but because like always, he preferred to face the door.
He had a lot of what some might call quirks.
Always face the door.
Locate any and all possible weapons.
Have at least two exit strategies.
Memorize faces.
Mentally catalog everything.
He’d honed the skills for so long they were now second nature.
But will they always be?
Sometimes Jake didn’t know where the job ended, and he began. If he left the bureau, would he be leaving a part of himself behind?Or was this who he was now? A vigilant, borderline paranoid ex-soldier with a chip on his shoulder.
The war waging within him never waned. He had a lot to atone for. The FBI had been a way to do that. But lately it didn’t feel like enough. He wasn’t sure what changed, but his phone call with the director this morning hadn’t helped assuage his doubts.
Jake took another sip of his bourbon, contemplating his options as he gazed out the large plate glass windows to Royal Street. Thanks to the revolving bar platform, he’d slowly rotated 180 degrees, giving him a whole new area of the bar to occupy his neurosis.
This wasn’t his first rotation or his first drink, but he scanned and catalogued his surroundings all the same. The bar was relatively quiet, but he knew the tourist crowd would shuffle in soon, clamoring for photo ops beneath the carousel lights while ordering Hurricanes or a Ramos Gin Fizz. The two bartenders on duty were busy stocking the bar with an arsenal of tools and booze to assist in another night of slinging sugary libations.
“Another?” the black-vested bartender asked when he noticed Jake’s nearly empty glass.
He was about to decline when a familiar vehicle rumbled to a stop outside, parking in front of the hotel’s marquee. Thanks to the new angle the bar had rotated to, Jake had the perfect view of a very comical sight. Dr. Dana Gray, wrestling a bright pink dress from the backseat of her Range Rover, while the valet patiently waited for her keys.
Jake signaled to the bartender he needed a minute, then abandoned his seat at the bar. He walked to the window, drink in hand, barely able to contain his grin as he watched Dana try to politely decline the assistance of the hotel’s incredibly accommodating staff.
Jake knocked on the window and Dana jumped. He shook his rocks glass, an open invitation to join him for a drink. Her shoulders sagged and she nodded emphatically. Jake gave her a thumbs up and headed back to the bar, while Dana gave in to the bellman’s offered assistance to whisk the pink monstrosity away on a gilded luggage cart.
“Pink’s your color,” Jake teased, pushing a double of Weller Special Reserve toward her.
“Shut up,” she grumped, sliding onto the elephant stool to his left before taking a large gulp of the bourbon that was meant to be sipped.
“Tough day?”
“I thought surviving the bayou was going to be my biggest accomplishment of the day. Turns out a hundred yards of pink satin and a very opinionated boutique owner named Stephan would be my downfall.”
Jake laughed. “George took you dress shopping? Did you lose a bet or something?”
“No, I apparently agreed to be a bridesmaid.”
Jake sputtered his bourbon. “Whose?”
