Page 11 of One Night in Paris

When her eyes flew open, I knew I’d failed. “All right, baby. Be careful.”

“I always am,” I promised her. “I won’t be able to come back tonight, though. The train that runs out here will have already finished its route by that time. I’ll come in the morning.”

“Take my car,” she insisted for the hundredth time.

Chuckling, I said, “And park it where for free, Mom?” Shaking my head, I reminded her, “It’s too expensive to have a car in the city.”

“All right. Well, you be careful walking back to your apartment after your shift. And make sure that Tammy locks up good.” Her eyes cut through me like only a worried mother’s could.

“I will,” I promised her. Tammy, my middle-aged roommate who wanted to be a famous actress but so far had only one Snickers commercial from the late nineties to her credit, wasn’t always the brightest and sometimes forgot to latch the door. I’d lost my grandfather’s pocket watch and a few hundred bucks I had in a jar in my closet because of it.

Standing, I kissed her cheek before heading to the bedroom I slept in when I stayed here to put on my uniform. By the time I was ready to head out, my mom was snoozing, so I snuck out, locking up behind me.

The walk to the train wasn’t too bad. The ride was awful—as always. Why did it seem like only rude people got on the trains headed to the Bronx?

Getting off at my station, I stepped over someone passed out near the exit of the subway and headed up to the busy streets. With fifteen minutes to make it six blocks, I should be just fine, assuming no lights held me up—or any muggers. In New York, I always walked with a purpose, with a fierce look on my face, and I never stopped for anyone, no matter how persistent they were.

Carmine’s Diner sat on the corner of two streets in a part of town that wasn’t quite as shitty as the neighborhood I lived in. We got all kinds in here. Lost tourists. Locals. Riffraff. Intellectuals trying to be chic. Entering through the backdoor, I grabbed an apron and put it on just as Dotty, my boss, walked through the swinging doors.

Her long gray hair fell around her face in tangled mats, and I could smell her body odor from across the room, even over the scent of cheeseburgers on the grill. “‘Bout time you showed up, Princess Juliet. Guys at table four need their order taken before they burn the place down.”

She’d been calling me that since I returned from Paris—for almost six months. I’d tried to explain that Juliet was Italian, and not a princess, but it had gotten me nowhere. Forcing asmile to my face I didn’t feel, I replied, “I’m on it,” and headed out to take the order at table four.

Recognizing the three guys immediately, I bit back my consternation. Every single time these assholes came in here, they got inappropriate—and handsy. I wasn’t in the mood for it today. With a death glare radiating out of my eyes, I approached them. “What will it be, fellas?”

“Well, hello there, sugar,” one of them began. “How about a cup of you?” Reaching out for my ass, he laughed, looking at his jackass friends.

In no mood for it, I grabbed hold of his hand and twisted it backward until his eyes bulged. “No, thank you,” I said. “And if you know what’s good for you, the only thing you’ll be grabbing is your balls to make sure I haven’t rammed them up into your torso.”

All three of them grew quiet immediately. Realizing I had just assaulted a customer, I let go of his arm but didn’t back down. He’d grabbed my ass before. Even after I reported it, management did nothing. I wasn’t letting it happen again.

“Damn, gorgeous. What the hell got into you?” another one of the guys asked.

“Nothing,” I told him, staring into his eyes. “I’ve always been this way. I’m a New Yorker. Now, what the fuck do you want to eat?”

7

LOGAN

Trevor was much more helpful in getting the trailer off my truck than he was getting the jet skis into the water. Once the trailer was unhitched, we closed up the garage where I kept most of my toys, making sure that it was all locked up.

“You wanna go grab a bite to eat?” I asked, heading back toward my truck, which was pulled up to the front of the garage.

“Man, I wish I could, but I’ve got a date with that model I was telling you about. Titina.” He made a gesture with both hands indicating the woman had big breasts.

Shaking my head, I reminded him, “I’m pretty sure her name is just Tina, and if you don’t stop calling her that behind her back, you’re going to slip up and say it to her face.”

Trevor shrugged. “It’s not like it’s a secret, dude. Her boobs are ginormous!” Once again, he was making that motion with his hands. He reminded me of a boy in high school who’d never had the privilege of seeing a woman’s naked body before. In a lot of ways, Trevor was just a taller, more muscular version of a fourteen-year-old kid.

“All right. Well, you enjoy your… dinner.” I opened the driver’s side to my truck. His car was sitting in a parking spot a few yards away from when he’d met me there early in the morning. The one he’d chosen to drive today, a black Jaguar with white racing stripes, was one of his sleeker vehicles. I had no room to talk, though. The truck I was currently driving cost about a hundred grand and was just one of many such toys I had in a parking garage near my luxury apartment. Unlike Trevor, though, I’d worked hard for every single one of mine.

“You have a good night, my friend.” Trevor came up behind me and offered me his hand. We locked fists and clapped one another on the back. “We’ve gotta get that skydiving trip on the books before you’re so old your diapers act like a parachute for you.”

Chuckling, I reminded him, “You’re older than me, brother. Have a good one.”

With a wave, we both headed out of the parking lot. I didn’t want to go right home, though. My stomach rumbled, reminding me we hadn’t eaten lunch. With Trevor’s jet ski beached for about an hour until we could work it free, we’d lost some time and had spent more of the day riding around than actually doing what we’d talked about, which meant we’d skipped lunch at one of the marinas.

Being in a part of town I didn’t typically frequent, I wasn’t sure where a good place to eat might be, so I decided to park my truck in a lot that looked relatively secure and head out on foot for a while, letting my nose lead the way.

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