Page 4 of Absinthe Minded

“Yes. Sorry about that, technical difficulties.” I smiled at the screen and turned my cell phone to silent beneath the table.

“Very well. Let’s start, shall we.”

Ignoring the bead of sweat running down my forehead, I squared my shoulders and waited for Marlena to speak.

“Maggie, as you know, the mission ofNOLA Society Newsis to inform residents and visitors of the cultural side of New Orleans.” Marlena paused to allow the others on the call to nod. “We loved your work when you first joined us…”

Loved?My throat tightened, but my plastic smile remained in place. “Thank you. I love my job.”

“Our heart goes out to you, taking on your sister’s children. However, your change in circumstances has impacted your columns.” Marlena sighed.

“Our readership isn’t interested in local family-friendly events,” Ted Denning, Director of Marketing, added.

“I’ve been thinking the same thing. In fact, I have an idea for a new piece.” I lied through my teeth.

My life had gone to complete shit in the previous three days. Not only had Ryan, the youngest of my deceased sister’s children, come down with an ear infection, I’d received a court summons for yet another custody hearing. Not to mention, my late rent payments and a second notice on the power bill. I desperately needed this job.

I’d figure it out. There was no sense in feeling sorry for myself or asking how this had become my life. Shit happens, even batshit crazy stuff like my sister and her husband dying and leaving me custody of their kids.

Marlena’s voice drew my attention back to the monitor. “Maggie, at this point—”

“Nouveau Orleans.” I blurted out the first words that tumbled through my head.

“Excuse me?” Ted narrowed his eyes.

I swallowed hard. “The name of my new article, Nouveau Orleans. For years the magazine has covered debutante balls and charity events. Old money is old news. It’s overdone. Why not cover the nouveau riche? The younger and sexier side of New Orleans Society.”

Ted smirked and the other two people on the call stared. However, Marlena’s eyes brightened, and a wicked smile crossed her lips. For my part, I tried to maintain a poker face, but my heart thumped loud enough to be heard through the computer.

“Keep talking.” Marlena steepled her fingers beneath her chin.

The gears in my head spun out of control. “Take the Marchionnis, for example. Five surviving brothers, all of whom own profitable establishments in the French Quarter. Then there are the hotels and other companies outside the Quarter owned by the Marchionni Corporation. They host charity events and are involved in the community, yet no one covers them.”

“For good reason.” Ted’s voice rose. “There’ve been rumors about the Marchionnis since Joe Sr. started buying failing businesses. Most folks think they’re tied to the mob.”

People in the south loved to gossip and hated outsiders. A Sicilian family buying up half the French Quarter had sprouted as many tall tales as the old myth of vampires living in the attic at Old Ursuline Convent.

“Is this big enough to do a monthly piece?” Marlena leaned closer to the camera.

“There are many young powerful residents in New Orleans.”Thank God. They liked the idea.All I had to do was close the deal. “My brother-in-law is the late Joe Marchionni Jr. and Gabe Marchionni is afriendof mine. The first piece will be an exposé on the Marchionni family, each of the following months will feature a different brother. When we run out of Marchionnis, I’ll move on to other young up and coming leaders in the city.”

Referring to Gabe as my friend made my chest hurt. That line about time healing all wounds was crap. I’d thought of him every single day in the four years since he’d dumped me.

“I don’t like the name.” Ted tapped his pencil to his lips.

“How about,The Bourbon Street Bad Boys Club?” I forced a smile. My best friend, Shanna, had coined the term back when I’d first met Gabe. “The Marchionnis’ Mardi Gras Gala is always big news. We can piggy-back the article off the event coverage.”

“I love it. A little sexist, but it’ll work for the Marchionnis.” Marlena clapped. “You’ll need to research the corporation, their businesses, their community involvement, and their personal lives. I can see the photos now. Those men are seriously sexy, even Papa Joe.”

You have no idea. Images of a skin and sweat and black six-hundred thread count sheets flashed through my mind.

Ted glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “Do you think they’re connected to the mob? I mean, is it safe to go snooping into their business?”

“That’s a good point. Maggie, given your relationship with the family, are you willing to spill the dirty secrets as well as the pretty ones?” Marlena raised a perfectly sculpted brow.

“I seriously doubt they’re involved in organized crime, but they wouldn’t be the first to play dirty in New Orleans. Very few leaders in this city are squeaky clean. I’ll write the piece as it should be written—truthfully.” My voice might have sounded strong, but my stomach roiled and threatened to return my lunch. I hadn’t seen Gabe or his brothers since my sister’s funeral over a year before.What the heck did I just get myself into?

“Do the research. I want a full proposal by the end of the week. Dennis, get legal involved. We don’t want to print anything too risqué and lose sponsors. Ted, get with creative. Let’s brand this thing—logos, ads, the works.” Marlena barked orders like Meryl Streep inThe Devil Wears Prada. “The Bourbon Street Bad Boys Club. I love it.”

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