Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Angelo
Remi steps out of the house, and like the first time I saw her at the charity gala, it feels like time is standing still.
There’s that four-letter word again.
“You look pained.” Remi cocks her head.
“Not pained; taken aback,” I tell her honestly. “You seem to have that effect on me.”
“I’m sorry, or you’re welcome. I’m not sure which,” she teases.
“Neither am I.” Grabbing my camera, I snap her photo.
“I didn’t realize the paparazzi were going to be here.” She playfully covers her face. “You know I only like photos taken from my good side.”
“You don’t have a bad side,” I assure her.
“You’ve been on it. A few times now,” she informs me.
My lips quirk as I place my camera on the table. I take Remi’s hand, leading her to the checkerboard dance floor. “Dance with me.”
“Pulling out all the stops,” she muses.
“Our first dance was interrupted. I thought a redo was in order.” I spin her around, bringing her body flush with mine.
“Is this a full reenactment?”
“Why? Are you planning on robbing me?”
“Who says I haven’t already?” Remi challenges.
“Me, because of my heavy?—”
“Hand?”
“I was going to say pocket.” I smile, giving her another spin. When she falls into me, her hand slides up my chest and removes the slim box from my dress shirt pocket.
“Open it,” I tell her, releasing her other hand.
She opens the velvet box, gasping at the gold necklace with a delicate butterfly charm made from diamonds. “It’s so pretty!”
“There can be honor among thieves, papillon. ”
Removing the necklace from its cushioned box, I tell Remi, “Hold up your hair for me.” She does so, and I drape the necklace around her neck and fasten the tiny clasp. When I spin her around, she’s crying.
“What’s wrong?” At a loss, my thumbs gently gather the tears from under her eyes.
Remi looks as though she’s about to run, but I don’t want to play games right now. Scooping her up into my arms, I carry us to the couch, sitting her on my lap with my arms wrapped around her. “Tell me.”
“You want to know how I got busted? It’s not that no man has ever taken care of me; it’s that every man has betrayed me!”
Remi
A few months ago…
“Remi, there you are,” my dad calls, and I ignore him, picking up the pace. “Hold up. Is that a leopard?” He catches up with me, eyeing Nola.
“She’s not a leopard. Or a bobcat. Or a cheetah. Or any other wild cat, alright?”
“Alright.” He holds up his hands. “Can we talk?”
“I’m working.”
“You’re walking a damn cat on a leash.”
Nola hisses at him.
“I’m working.” I grit.
“Look, baby girl, I’m sorry. I fucked up, alright? Please come home. I miss my partner in crime.” My dad’s so charismatic, every time I say I’m done with him, he pulls me back into his orbit.
But not this time.
“I bet you do. Let me guess, you’ve been evicted. Again.” I had more addresses growing up than a military brat.
“It’s just a temporary setback.”
I scoff. “It always is.”
“Listen, I’ve got us a hustle lined up that’ll get you back your keyboard and then some. I’m talking big bucks.” He rubs his hands together.
“Bye, Dad.”
Nola and I shake him on the way back to the hotel. “Yeah, that’s my dad. He’s a real piece of work.”
She meows in agreement.
We reach Sienna’s office, but something doesn’t feel right. I lean my ear against the door.
“Oh, fuck yes, Sienna!” Ellis moans.
I silently push open the door to find my boyfriend fucking my boss on her desk. Nola hisses, and both Ellis and Sienna snap their eyes to us.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” Ellis says, his cock still inside Sienna.
“Save your bullshit, we’re finished,” I tell him through angry tears. Turing my ire to Sienna, I say, “And fuck you, bitch. I quit.”
Scooping Nola into my arms, I spin on my heel and run out of the hotel. She hops down, keeping pace with me on her leash as we return to Ellis and my apartment.
Now, Ellis’ apartment.
Packing up my few worldly possessions, I urge Nola along, but she hops up on the bed. “Nola, let’s go.”
She drops her hind legs, and the potent smell of ammonia fills the room.
“I love you,” I tell her with a laugh.
Walking down the street with a box, a stolen exotic cat, and nowhere to go, I swallow my pride and call my dad. “I’m in.”
Adjusting my stolen name tag, I enter the ballroom with a tray of hors d'oeuvres, surveying the scene. Dad’s across the room with a tray of his own. We lock eyes, and he gives me the hand signal to proceed.
In search of my mark, I work my way through the crowd. He’s not too difficult to find, being that he’s an imposing brick of a man with a military-tight haircut.
“What do we have here?”
My spine goes stiff until I realize it’s a guest asking about the food. “Crawfish mini boil.”
Of course I got stuck with the crawfish.
Smiling politely as the man takes one of the fancy cups, I continue through the crowd.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something doesn’t feel right. Shaking it off, I pause here and there as guests sample the food, which is fine by me, because those little mudbug eyes watching me are freaking me out.
Like an expertly rehearsed dance, Dad bumps into the mark, snagging his attention, and I swoop in from behind and lift his wallet from his back pocket.
It falls seamlessly into mine before I veer off into the back service area. Depositing my tray, I sneak out the back door and wait for Dad.
He arrives a few minutes later, bursting through the door in a dead sprint. “Run,” he tells me, and I take off beside him.
“Why?”
“Cops.”
We veer down an alley, running into a fence. “Up and over,” he says, moving a trash can and climbing onto it. He scales the fence and returns with a box, stepping onto it from the other side.
I jump, but I’m not tall enough to reach the top of the fence.
“Police! Stop right there!” Cops run towards us.
“Give me your hand!” I hiss in a panic.
“Give me the money,” Dad counters.
“Are you serious right now? We’ll divvy up later; give me your freaking hand!”
“Money.”
Gritting my teeth, I toss the wallet over the fence.
Dad catches it, giving me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, baby girl. Take one for the team.” He hops off the box and disappears.
Shocked, I turn around to find myself surrounded by officers. “You’re under arrest.”
Angelo
“So your father was the confidential informant,” I say gently, petting her hair.
“What do you mean?” She looks up at me, her chin trembling.
“I pulled your arrest report; an informant ratted you out, leading to the setup and your arrest.”
“If that’s the case, my dad screwed me twice,” Remi says sadly.
A shame he’s dead, because I’d love to get my hands on him.
“What happened after that?” I ask, running my fingers through her soft hair.
“I posted bond and bounced,” she says. “Probably wasn’t the best decision skipping out on my hearing. But without the cash for a decent lawyer, I figured my odds weren’t that good anyway.”
“Is that when you began doing palm reading?” I ask, grabbing her hand and kissing her palm.
“No, I only came back to the city after I got word that my dad had died.”
“Where did you go?”
“Took a bus to Nashville. Tried my hand at the music scene there, but so did every other musician in the country.” She shakes her head. “Plus, Nola wasn’t a fan of country music.”
“Of course she wasn’t,” I say.
“But when I got word that my dad had died, I risked coming back to the city. I had every intention of going straight,” she says emphatically. “All I needed was one good grab; the charity gala was going to help me get a lawyer and figure out my legal mess, but then you politely kidnapped me.”
I chuckle as she settles into my arms, her body relaxing as I continue petting her hair.
“By the time I got back home, he was already dead and buried.”
“No funeral?”
Remi shakes her head. “Too broke. Word is he’s buried in the city’s indigent cemetery. They’re unmarked graves, so I don’t know which one to spit on. Or cry on.”
She begins crying again, and I squeeze her tight.
“It feels weird to both hate him and miss him, if that makes sense,” she whispers.
“It makes sense.” I reach inside my pocket, handing her my handkerchief.
Her eyes widen. “I can’t blow my snotty nose on your silk, monogrammed handkerchief!”
“What’s the point of a silk, monogrammed handkerchief if you can’t blow your snotty nose on it?”
She accepts it, blowing her nose before holding it out. “Why did you not tell me Laurie was your queen?”
“She’s not my queen. My queen is trying to return a snotty handkerchief; please, you keep it.”
“Ugh, there you go again, being all swoony?—”
“Is swoony a word?”
“It is now.” She gives her nose another blow.
“Yes, Laurie is the Queen of Carnival. I have pull within the organization—perhaps enough to get Laurie replaced last minute, for the right price—but placing you front and center would be too risky. We tried that once, and I’m not doing it again.”
Especially not with the mayor thinking he’s going to have a little taste of what’s mine. My chest rattles with possessiveness.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was the queen?” Remi presses.
“I wasn’t trying to hide the fact from you; our planning got interrupted, and rightly so. I’m proud of you for not giving up.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “You will be comfortable in the water. In fact, let’s start right now.”
Removing her mask, I begin tugging the zipper of her gown.
“What are you doing?”
Shifting Remi off my lap, I remove my mask, flinging it across the courtyard. My jacket is next to come off, and I get to work undoing my bow tie. “I believe it’s called skinny dipping.”