Page 20 of Girl Between
“It’s a Venetian death mask,” she replied. “It’s what I came here to study.”
“Is that a popular field?”
“Not at all.”
George nodded again but said nothing further.
Dana gave him a prolonged glance, then continued on her way. Sliding open her office doors, she led the way to the front of the house. With one last inquisitive stare from Dana’s co-worker, George trailed her onto the front porch then down the stone steps. They both paused inside the wrought iron gate.
“Well,” he said. “I’ll report back to Jake and send him proof of life.”
“Please tell him to stop being an overbearing goon.”
George smiled. “You and I both know that’s not gonna happen.”
She rolled her eyes, cracking her first smile since he’d arrived. “It was worth a try.”
“For what it’s worth, everything I saw last night says you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. Something I’m sure your partner knows.”
“Yet he sends you here to check on me.”
George shrugged. “A leopard can’t change his spots.”
He turned to go, but Dana’s touch pulled him back. “Wait. Last night … what happened?”
“You don’t remember?” he asked.
“It’s a bit fuzzy.”
“Not surprising considering your aim to drink New Orleans dry,” he teased.
Dana groaned.
“Relax. You weren’t that bad. Why don’t you come out with me again, and we can retrace our steps. Maybe this time with less drinking.”
She shook her head. “This hangover is ensuring I learned my lesson last night.”
He shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. What do you remember?”
“Styrofoam cups and dancing in the street. Did that really happen?”
Laughing, he nodded. “Yeah, Port of Call don’t play when it comes to cocktails. After your last drink there you were determined to follow the second line. You dragged me halfway down Frenchman before we caught up with them. Then it was to Spotted Cat, and?—”
“You played the piano there!” she interrupted.
George had been hoping to gloss over that, but of course that was what she remembered. He heard his mother’s voice in his head.The ladies always remember the ivory.
It’s how she’d convinced him to keep up his lessons in high school.
The look on Dana’s face told him his mother had been right.
“Yeah, Doug says my money’s no good at his establishment. But he always makes me earn my keep on the ivories when I stop in.”
“It must be often considering they keep your hat on the piano,” Dana said, referring to the fedora he’d donned before joining the band to jam.
“Thatshe remembers,” he teased.
She blushed again. “That’s where things get fuzzy.”
