Page 12 of Girl Between
Jake sat next to Jenkins on one of the mismatched folding chairs on his uncle’s front porch and did just that.
“Well?” Jake asked impatiently after telling her everything.
“That’s quite a tale,” Jenkins replied.
Somehow Jake expected the woman who’d been the fixer of problems in his life and career to have some sort of epiphany he’d yet to discover on the matter. But the fact that even Jenkins couldn’t spin a silver lining only deflated him further. “I wish I’d never gone to France,” Jake muttered.
“Don’t,” Jenkins said. “Truth is always worth the cost.”
It was a sentiment Jake had heard his entire life, but at that moment, it seemed foolish. “How is she?” Jake asked, changing the subject.
Knowing he meant his mother, Jenkins replied. “Better than expected.”
That made Jake turn to face the strong woman to his right, eyebrows raised.
“Don’t give me that look,” she said. “I’ve been sayin’ for years ya just needed a woman’s touch ‘round here.”
Their eyes met, both of them acknowledging his schizophrenic mother needed much more than that. “What should I tell her?” Jake asked.
Jenkins met his stare with concern. “You know I’m always on the side of truth, Jake. But in this case, I think it might do more harm than good.”
“So, what do I do?” he asked.
“Tell Wade. Spend some time with your mother. The answer will come.”
Jake nodded, though he didn’t completely share Jenkins’ ease. Her stance implied he had time. But that wasn’t the case.
Too much hung in the balance for Jake. His career, his family, and more importantly … Dana Gray.
15
Dana’s eyes slit open,the world swaying into focus. The unfamiliar scenery made her blink and rub her eyes, a mistake she realized too late as her contacts slugged across her dry eyes like glue.
She swore, closing her eyes again, waiting for her lenses to resettle. But even when the room came into focus, it did nothing to jog her memory. She propped herself up on her elbows, her head protesting with violent throbs.
Yellow walls, exposed brick and beams, mismatched furniture.
Where the hell am I?
Rolling to her side, Dana spotted her clothes on the floor. She glanced under the covers, appalled that she was only wearing an oversized t-shirt and it wasn’t even hers. She clutched the brown satin sheets to her chest with sudden embarrassment as the night started to come back to her.
Frenchman Street, jazz, copious amounts of alcohol, and … The sound of the shower turning off silenced her thoughts, slamming her back to reality.
She eyed the sliver of light glowing through the narrow opening of a door that must lead to an ensuite bathroom. She glimpsed the impressive, bronzed physique of the nude man on the other side ashe reached for a towel, and her mind filled in the blanks of how the night must’ve ended.
Swearing again, she crawled out of bed, putting on her clothes as quickly as possible. She found everything but her bra, leaving it behind as collateral damage rather than face the man she’d spent a night with; a night she couldn’t even remember.
The floorboards creaked with each step as she rushed down the stairs and made her way out of the two-story blue and yellow shotgun home she had no recollection of entering.
What the hell is in a Sazerac?
Dana knew she’d drunk more than she should’ve, but as she hopped from foot to foot buckling the ankle strap of her sandals as she burned sidewalk, she chastised herself, vowing to get her life together.
Stopping at the first street corner, she automatically looked down at the sidewalk for the street name noted in blue and white ceramic tiles. When there were none, she realized she’d strayed from her comfort zone of the French Quarter. Dana scanned the foreign area for street signs, spotting some in a mess of telephone wires and Mardi Gras beads.Congress and Burgundy.
She had no idea where she was.
Fishing her cell phone from her purse she was about to look it up when she saw the red light of her battery, indicating she had just enough juice left to call a ride. Knowing she couldn’t waste it, she decided to keep walking, hoping she’d see something to give her a point of reference.
