Page 11 of Girl Between
It was ‘joie de vivre’ in its purest form.
People flocked from all over the world to experience New Orleans’s unique cultural phenomenon. And now that Dana had a hold of the quintessential feeling of joy, she understood why. Freedom swelled through her chest with each beat of the music. It could make her forget anything, even death. Which was precisely the band’s job during a jazz funeral. To dance their way into the afterlife and to celebrate the living. A constant reminder that life is meant to be lived and lived well.
Too soon, the second line musicians moved on, taking their revelry with them. The rest of the street party dissipated, returning to whatever bar they’d spilled from. But George had his sights set on somewhere new and Dana rushed to keep up.
They pushed through the green and yellow glass doors of the Spotted Cat, another iconic jazz club on Frenchman. It was small as well but seemed gargantuan after the cramped quarters of Apple Barrel. George raised his hand, greeting those he knew in the crowd. Two complimentary icy cold rocks glasses were thrust toward him. Dana accepted the one he passed her, taking a sip of the strong spirits, then pressing the cool glass to her chest.
She’d just claimed a coveted seat at the bar, when she heard a chant pick up in the club. She was both surprised and delighted when she realized the patrons were all yelling George’s name.
“Do you play?” Dana shouted over the din.
George grinned, giving a modest shrug. “When I must.” He downed his drink and placed it on the bar next to her. He raised two fingers, and two more high-octane cocktails were slung their way. Dana was still working on her first one. It burned on the way down, the kind of drink one might say ‘put hair on your chest.’
“What is this?” she asked, downing the drink like George had. “Sazerac,” he replied. “Drink slow, and don’t go anywhere,” he said, before skimming her cheek with the briefest kiss.
The next thing Dana knew, she was watching her personal tour guide for the night take the stage. George bowed to the riotous applause and settled himself behind the piano. He grabbed a purple fedora from the top of the old upright and set it crookedly on his head. Then, he began pounding the ivory keys like he owned them.
Applause erupted through the bar like thunder. As the rest of the jazz quartet joined in, Dana grinned, letting herself get swept away.
14
Jenkins answered the door,shock evident on her tanned face as she stepped onto the front porch. “Jake Shepard, as I live and breathe.”
“Jenks …” Jake said, his voice tentative after the way they’d left things.
But Remi Jenkins was never one to hold a grudge, especially not when it came to family. And she’d always considered Jake family.
She pulled him into a fierce hug, her embrace more bone-crushing than her short frame seemed capable of. Her blonde bob had grown out since Jake had seen her last. It was pulled back into a messy knot at the nape of her neck. He couldn’t help noticing the other subtle changes. The Nevada sun had kissed her skin, dappling freckles in new places. Plus, she had an air of lightness about her he hadn’t seen since he was a kid.
Time away from the FBI seemed to be good for her.
Finally releasing him, Jenkins grinned up at Jake. “Well, it’s about time,” she said in that way of hers that erased any lingering awkwardness.
“I’ve missed you, too,” Jake quipped.
“How was lovely Paris?”
Jake smirked. “It’s just another city. Never really saw the appeal.”
Jenkins snorted. “Said no one ever .”
He could only shrug. Paris was a beautiful city, but he hadn’t been in the state of mind to enjoy it.
“Come on,” Jenkins said, starting to lead the way inside. “I know two more people who’ll be happy to see who the cat dragged in.”
“I don’t know about that.”
Jenkins paused, turning back to face him. Jake didn’t know why, but it was easier to break the news to her than his uncle. It’d always been that way—Jenks, the go-between for Jake and Wade when things got serious. And what could be more serious than admitting he’d discovered his father had another family?
“What is it?” she asked.
Jake had a whole international flight to gather his thoughts, yet he still didn’t have an answer to that question.
Luckily, Jenkins asked another. “Did you find him?”
“Not exactly.”
Jenkins’ keen eyes bore into Jake’s, reading the pain and remedying it by grabbing two ice cold beers from the worn green porch cooler. Taking a seat, she nodded to the one next to her. “Start from the beginning,” she ordered.
