“Nope,” I said, smiling up at him. “Don’t know yet which story of mine I want you to tell.”
Theo’s brow furrowed and a funny smile came over his lips. His expression was amused, but I’d come to see that Theo’s feelings were all in his eyes. And right now, he was touched.
We stopped at a small café where Theo had a beer, and I had a strawberry lemonade.
“You don’t mind I have this?” he said, raising his bottle.
“If I were to ask people not to drink around me, I’d stop being invited to parties.”
Theo snorted a laugh. “I need some fries or something. You want anything else?”
“I want that dress,” I said, pointing at the window of a vintage clothing store across the street. In its window was a housedress. Something out of the 1940’s, with hundreds of tiny green apples on it and red buttons down the front.
“Perfect for tonight,” I said, grinning at Teddy. “We’re gonna do it up in real New Orleans style.”
We started getting ready around seven. I put on the retro housedress and instead of heels, I went for black, high-heeled Mary Janes. They complimented the black of my tattoos while bright red matte lipstick and black cat-eye liner completed the look.
I emerged from the bedroom to find Theo wearing his simple black-shirt and jeans, his tattoos snaking down his arms.He needs a watch,I thought. A watch would draw attention to his muscle definition and contrast the ink.
We drove out to Louie’s Louisiana Kitchen, a Cajun restaurant near the river that also hosted nightly musical acts. It was an older, more classic New Orleans joint, with no air conditioning, no fancy décor, and no world-class chef. Just real, authentic Cajun food and jazz music by local artists.
I remembered the night I first met Dena and Oscar; we’d eaten at the Cajun restaurant in the MGM Grand. Theo had a thing for ultra-spicy food.
“If you want spicy, this place is it,” I shouted to him in the crowded line waiting to see the hostess. “Hottest jambalaya in New Orleans.”
He narrowed his eyes at the challenge. “We’ll see about that.”
The place was packed. Apparently, the band playing tonight was hugely popular—a bluesy quartet with a young, sultry female singer. I’d made reservations, but even the front entry was crammed like a dance club and stifling hot, the last vestiges of summer. Sweat beaded on my brow, threatening my makeup. Theo stood just ahead of me as we waited, while a cocktail waitress came around handing out free short glasses of beer to help ease the wait.
The guy behind me—a skinny, pale man in his early twenties with red-rimmed eyes and a rumpled shirt, took two glasses and downed them quick. Judging by his look—and the smell of hard liquor that wafted off of him—those beers weren’t his first of the night.
“Hey,” he said, nudging me. “You a sweet little thing, ain’t you?”
I rolled my eyes and turned away, to face Theo’s broad back. Sweat glistened on the back of his neck, turning the hair there into little barbs.
“Hey.” The guy nudged me again. He leaned in close enough that the stringent smell of booze on his breath was actually a mist on my cheek. “I’ll bet you taste sweet. Like candy.” He chuckled. “Can I have a lick?”
Unfortunately for him, a lull in the music came at that exact instant. Theo spun around, his eyes boring into the drunk guy with a dangerous intensity.
“What the fuck did you just say to her?”
The drunk guy held up his hands. “Sorry, man. Didn’t realize she was yours.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” Theo said. He wasn’t a super tall guy, but he had at least fifty pounds more muscle on him. He jerked his thumb at me. “Apologize to her.”
The guy thought about it for a moment, then snorted a wet laugh and staggered a little, jostling me again.
A muscle in Theo’s jaw twitched. “You’re standing too close to her.” He laid his hand calmly on the guy’s chest. “Fuck.” He gave a small shove. “Off.”
The guy staggered a step or two back, and held up his hands again, his laughter gone. “All right, man. Be cool.”
Theo’s eyes remained locked on his in warning for another second, then he put his arm around me and pulled me in front of him, keeping me in the protective circle for the rest of our slow migration to the hostess stand.
“Reservation?” the hostess asked, and it took me a second to realize she was talking to me.
“Two,” I said. “Dawson.” My heart was still thumping loudly in my chest and the heat flushing my cheeks had nothing to do with the lack of air conditioning.
The way Theo had handled that guy…
