Chapter Two
Georgie
––––––––
"All right, I'm done with this one," Zelda, my assistant and friend, said.
I got up from my seat, rolling my shoulders and moving my hips a bit too. I'd gotten stiff from sitting too long.
"That looks perfect," I told her, admiring the mask she'd just finished.
She yawned. Looking behind her, I noticed that everyone looked spent. I had a team of three, including Zelda, and they’d been working overtime ever since the damn flood.
Books & Beads sold—as the name suggested—books, beads, and everything anyone could want for Carnival.
"All right, you know what, girls? Everyone go home. I’ll close up here."
Zelda looked at me. "Are you sure? You're tired too. You were here before everyone else."
True. But the work was endless, and if I didn't make it happen, no one would. There was no way I could ask them to come at six o'clock in the morning like I did when they were already so overworked.
"I'm fine.” I stretched my arms over my head, plastering a smile on my face. "Everyone, thank you so much for going above and beyond. I promise I'll make things work. We'll get back on our feet."
Zelda gave me an uneasy smile while the rest of the team fidgeted in their spots.
I sighed. No one truly believed that. I wasn’t sure I did either.
"We'll see you on Monday.” Zelda narrowed her eyes. "Are you going to be here tomorrow as well?"
I pressed my lips together and then gave her a guilty smile. "Of course. The shop is open."
"But you’ll be working on more masks, too, won't you?"
"Yeah.”
"Look, I'll come, too, and—”
"Absolutely not," I interrupted her. "Come on, all of you, go. You deserve Sunday off. Things will calm down after Mardi Gras."
That was an understatement. Things might calm down permanently after Mardi Gras if I didn't manage to get some customers quickly.
I followed the team and, for no reason at all, started smiling. I loved my shop.
We had a little workshop in the back, although we did have a bigger operation near the warehouse. But at the moment, we were working on our exclusive handmade masks right here. People went wild for them last year.
The rest of the team filtered out while Zelda hesitated in the doorway. "Georgie," she said, "I'll come tomorrow."
"Please don't. Look, you're young. It's Saturday night. Go wild in the Quarter. But not too wild, so stay safe."
She laughed. "I'm young? I'm the same age as you."
I often forgot that I was twenty-eight. I'd been working at the shop since I was thirteen. In many ways, I felt like I was middle-aged already, especially now. The flood definitely added ten years to my life.
"There’s no need. I'll work on the masks from the front so I can also tend to customers.”
"If the shop is swamped, give me a shout and I'll come here, okay?"
"Thanks, Zelda."
I gave her a quick hug. She was a great friend.
After she left, I locked the door, turned the sign to Closed, and sighed. I'd been running back and forth today between tending to the shop and painting the masks, which was why everyone else had done far more masks than I had. The truth was, I would be swamped tomorrow because the Carnival season was approaching. But my team needed to rest.
I’d intended to hire some part-timers like I did every year, but the flood near killed us, and I just didn’t have the funds to even think about extra help.
I loved, loved, loved Books & Beads. It was on Burgundy Street, where rent was acceptable and foot traffic was still great. It had been in my family for two generations. I came from a long line of strong Southern women. My nana had been a single mom and opened the shop all on her own. Then my mom took it over. She’d also been a single mom, and I'd practically grown up here in the store. Once I was thirteen, I was an unofficial part-time employee. After I finished my homework, I worked here right up to closing time. Then Mom and I would go back home to finish up on other chores. Once I turned sixteen, she hired me officially, paycheck and all. I’d felt like I was rich.
I studied business at Loyola College because I'd been determined to run this place successfully. Up until this flood, I’d done so well. I had insurance to cover much of the damage, so thankfully the repair work was moving quickly. But the main problem was that the contracts we used were old, from my grandmother’s time.
She’d been far too lenient, allowing customers a loophole in case of natural disasters. Even if we could still deliver on time, they could cancel the contract without penalty.
My team and I had worked tirelessly since that fateful night two weeks ago, but our big, longtime family customers still dropped us. The one that hurt most was the LeBlanc deal because we were currently making all the costumes and decorations for their float. I’d used the insurance money to fix everything the flood had damaged—which I’d told Julian LeBlanc repeatedly. It seemed he just didn’t care, and now I was sitting on all that inventory.
I clenched my jaw at the thought of that coward. He wouldn’t even discuss this with me. I was sure if we met, he could see our progress and reconsider. But no, he was an ass. He’d just let his lawyers and their legal jargon handle it, and in my book, that was cowardly.
But I was determined to stay positive. Things would work out one way or another.
I looked around the shop with a smile. It was cozy and quaint and authentic to the time. Not much had changed since Grandma set it up. and that’s what made us so popular.
The wooden shelves were older than I was. We'd updated the ones displaying the beads and other accessories a few years ago, mainly because I'd found others that better showcased our merchandise. We were one of a kind, even in the Quarter. People trusted us. We had a great reputation. Still a family-owned company, and we had prominent customers. Well, at least we used to.
Now, because Julian LeBlanc had canceled with us, our other big customers had followed his lead.
Sighing, I went to one of the bookshelves, grabbed my favorite book, and sat in Nana's armchair. The leather was worn but still intact. It smelled like jasmine—her favorite fragrance—and it comforted me.
She'd been a midwife as well, and she often said that she smelled like babies. I hadn't been around many to confirm that, but in my memory, she'd smelled heavenly.
As soon as I started reading, my entire body relaxed. This was hands down my favorite way of spending Saturday night: with a good book and wine. I got up and opened the cabinet, taking a small bottle of red from under the counter, where I kept snacks too. After uncapping it, I poured myself a glass.
Resituating myself, I took a sip. Yum . This was perfect . Mom once joked that I was twenty-eight going on forty-eight, but that was fine by me. On days like this, I truly missed my mom. She’d moved out to the bayou after retiring, and I didn’t want to stress her out with the goings-on here. She'd asked how things were after the flood, but I assured her I could manage.
I finished my glass after reading only ten pages but decided not to pour a second one, since I hadn't eaten much today and didn't want to get drunk or even tipsy. I loved the French Quarter to bits, but on Saturday nights, one had to have their wits about them. Especially since I had to cross most of it to get to St. Louis to take the bus. I lived in the Gentilly neighborhood, renting the world's tiniest home. The bus ride took thirty minutes, but I didn’t mind my commute because it gave me time to wind down.
Time to go home, Georgie, before the wine gets to your head .
I got up from my armchair, then washed and put away my glass. After straightening things up, I went to grab my bag. Before leaving, I checked the back door—and a good thing I did, because it wasn’t locked. Then I went back to the front. I always left out the front door, as the back alley was a bit too dark for my taste.
Stepping out of Books & Beads, I took in a deep breath. The January air was cold and fresh. Jazz music and a cacophony of voices resounded through the streets. What an evening! I loved that I got to walk a bit through the Quarter every night, just to take it all in.
What if I make a pit stop before heading home? The wine was giving me dangerous ideas—and a lot of courage.
So, instead of going to the bus station, my feet took me another direction altogether. I knew Julian LeBlanc had several bars here in the Quarter—I'd stalked him a bit, thinking I’d give him a piece of my mind, but promptly chickened out. Apparently, he was often at the bar on Dumaine. I could take a look and see if he was there. Maybe I would even find an opportunity to talk to him.
I stopped short as droves of partygoers moved around me, realizing I hadn't even bothered to check my appearance. Ugh, I probably looked like something the cat dragged in. I was wearing jeans and a light sweater, and my blonde hair was piled up in a messy bun. I usually used black eyeliner because it made my blue eyes pop, but I hadn't managed to apply any today, as I didn't have time.
Oh, whatever. I wasn't going there to impress “the” Julian LeBlanc. I simply wanted to understand why he’d canceled our contract without a second thought when we’d promised we could deliver everything he needed for the float on time. But there was no swaying him—or his lawyer, at least.
I carefully waded through the Quarter, avoiding Bourbon Street. Not just because it was crazy on Saturday evenings, but because my ex-boyfriend, Kyle Deveraux, owned a large club over there. He was one person I hoped I never saw again.
Hard as I tried, I couldn't remember why I’d started dating him in the first place. He was different from the guys I usually went out with. Kyle was from an old, established NOLA family, and he never let me forget it. I made myself a promise after we broke up that it was the last time I'd date a powerful man.
I shook my head, determined to forget about Kyle. I’d always been good at recognizing the good in my life, so no need to dwell on the bumps in the road.
Instead of getting lost in my thoughts, I entertained myself by looking around. I loved the Quarter. I couldn't wait to live here one day. Right now, it was out of my budget, but it was on my vision board. I liked the architecture and how steeped in culture this area was. Most of all, I liked that everything here was old. I preferred old buildings to new ones. They had a soul of their own and a story.
Granted, lots of the stories told of the French Quarter homes were a bit creepy. Though I was born and raised here, I’d never seen a ghost or anything remotely similar. That didn't mean I didn't believe in them, though. All good Southern girls did. At least that's what my mom always said.
I was surprised by all the Carnival-themed decorations they had up already. I couldn’t remember ever seeing them up so early. That was good in my opinion, as it should get people in the celebratory mood, and that meant possibly more business for Books & Beads.
The smell of beignets reached me from a passerby. I was starting to get even more dangerous ideas. After I spoke to Julian, I could head to Café Du Monde and indulge in a beignet before catching my bus. And I could also pass by my favorite Italian deli and buy a muffaletta sandwich. That would make an excellent dinner. I was a lousy cook, and I had nothing waiting for me at home.
I quickened my pace, and a minute later, I turned down Dumaine.
The bar was in one of those houses I loved—red facade and colorful shutters. It was chock-full, and the second I stepped inside, I could see its appeal.
Oh, sweet Lord. It was crawling with even more people than I’d expected. The French Quarter had no shortage of evening establishments, but there was something different about this one. It was huge but cozy at the same time. The lighting was inviting, but not so dim that you couldn't see where you were stepping. And the music was truly amazing. They had a live jazz band in one corner that didn't take up much space, and they played wonderfully. I was tempted to enjoy it for a bit, but I'd come here for a reason. I needed to find to Julian LeBlanc.
I headed to the bar, intending to sweet-talk one of the bartenders into introducing me to him. I assumed the man was in the back, working on the books or something. But I quickly realized this might take longer than I thought, as there were tons of customers lining up for drinks, and I didn't want to push my way forward.
I glanced at each bartender, and my gaze fell on one exceptionally good-looking man to the left of the bar. He was exquisitely handsome, with vibrant blue eyes, dark hair, a muscled body, and tattoos on his forearms.
Well, well, well. At least I have something to feast my eyes on while I wait.
He was chatting with two guys who resembled him a lot.
"Julian, I need another one of your Sazeracs,” one of them said.
I mentally gasped. The hot guy is Julian? That just couldn't be. I knew I should've googled him to get an idea of who I was looking for.
"I'm honored," Julian replied.
"Hey, dude, it's my turn. I ordered my drink before him," a pissed-off customer said.
Julian looked directly at him. "I’ll get yours next, and this one is on the house. How about that?"
"Well, I like that," the guy said. “You’re okay, dude.”
Julian smiled, averting what could've been a touchy situation.
So, Julian did have people skills. He simply didn't want to deal with me. And why was he so hot?
Oh, stop focusing on how hot he is, Georgie . That doesn't change anything. I kept my eyes firmly on him as I advanced in line. He moved his hands with dexterity, which told me he bartended often. When I heard that Julian LeBlanc spent time in the bar, I assumed he was somewhere in the back or just enjoying the music, not actually working. That earned him points in my book.
No, damn it, Georgie. Zero points. Zero!
I didn't want to antagonize him, though, so I needed to find a good approach. I needed him to actually talk to me long enough so I could plead my case.
My turn arrived a few minutes later.
"What can I get you?" he asked.
"Nothing, thank you. I need to speak with you. I'm Georgie." I swallowed hard. "From Books & Beads."
He narrowed his eyes. "Doesn't ring a bell, but I can get you a drink on the house."
Doesn't ring a bell?
"I emailed you a few times about the float decorations you canceled."
His eyes turned instantly cold, the smile he’d had for other customers falling. I knew it had been too good to be true. It had all been for show. Pity, because it had been mesmerizing.
"I need to talk to you about your order," I persisted.
He shook his head. "I have a full house tonight. I can't afford to waste any time discussing what’s already happened. The order has been canceled. If you would excuse me, there are paying customers behind you."
"No problem. I’ll just wait until the place clears out, and we'll talk then."
"The place won't clear out. It's a Saturday evening," he said slowly.
Did he think I was stupid?
"I can wait until there’s a lull or something." I was determined not to back down.
"There is nothing to talk about."
The two guys he’d been chatting with before zeroed in on me.
"What's wrong?" one of them asked.
"Nothing, Anthony. I'm handling this.” He turned back to me. “Our lawyers already explained that we’re within our full rights to cancel our order."
"But why do that when we can get everything you need for the float in time? We told you that from the beginning." My voice cracked. Lord, I was nervous. "We’ve been preparing your float for generations, and we're the best at it. We know what you want."
"Well, we found another vendor quickly enough."
I winced. Vendor! That felt so cold. We were more than that. My grandmother had a relationship with his grandparents all these years. How dare he just blow us off like that! I was getting pissed and knew I needed to keep myself in check.
"Look, it's nothing personal," he went on.
Was it my imagination, or was he looking at my lips? My entire body felt hot, which was insane. I was supposed to be mad, determined, but it was as if my brain and my body were disconnected.
"The LeBlanc float was our biggest customer. This is ruining my business."
Why the hell did I have to tell him that? I didn't need his pity.
"I'm sorry to hear that, but business is business."
I swallowed hard.
"Your contract allowed us to—”
"Oh, you know as well as I do that that contract was drawn up by my own grandmother, not by a lawyer." My voice caught. "She was a good person. She wanted her clients to be happy. She never imagined someone would take advantage of it."
Julian was silent for a brief moment. That last part wasn’t fair, and really, I knew about the clause, or lack thereof.
"This is very unprofessional behavior," he replied finally.
I saw red.
"Really? You think so? You think I'm the unprofessional one? You're the one hiding behind your lawyers."
"What the hell does that mean? I'm the CEO," he said. "I don't have time to deal with everyone I'm doing business with. That's why I have lawyers."
“Damn, that’s harsh,” the guy named Anthony said.
I swallowed hard. "Right, well, I can see we're not getting anywhere tonight."
"My decision is final," Julian insisted, and I could feel my world crumble a little. I'd hoped to make things better tonight, but I went and made them far worse. I could've convinced him to hire us again, even if just for next year, but what had I done instead? Completely antagonized him—the exact thing I’d told myself not to do.
"Lady, will you move out of the way? I'm waiting to order," a guy behind me said.
"Yeah, sure. Sorry. My bad," I said, stepping away.
I was definitely heading to Café du Monde.