The Keepers
By Monique O'Connor James
Published by Astraea Press
www.astraeapress.com
Smashwords Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
THE KEEPERS
Copyright © 2011 MONIQUE O'CONNOR JAMES
ISBN 978-1-936852-34-5
Cover Art Designed By Elaina Lee
Edited By Stephanie Taylor
In memory of Diane O'Connor, my mother, my mentor, my best friend, and my muse; you are loved and missed.
Jessica Hunter stood on a patch of grass using her hand to block the sunlight reflecting off her mother's casket. The humidity made her hair curl around her face, despite the effort she'd put into straightening it. The wooden box before her was perched on a contraption resembling a medieval torture device, which would lower the casket into the hole after Jess left. Then a backhoe would spill dirt on what remained of the best person she knew.
Everyone else who attended the funeral had disappeared. They moved back into their worlds, which still turned and still had significance. Jess was immobilized by fear and waited for her life to come back into focus. There was no color in the trees, and no grass surrounding her. She knew the birds sang, but she couldn't hear them. She heard nothing, except the sound of the thoughts humming, in her head. Being forced to observe the world's rotation while she waited to reawaken was cruel.
Her unsteady fingers glided over the solid oak casket. They skipped across its urethane surface while her mind attempted to reconcile the truth. Her mother's body lay inches away, but her spirit no longer occupied it. Her best friend and mentor had found happiness in a place to which Jess had no access. The taste of rusted metal rose in her throat, and eyeing the pristine roses atop the coffin, she thwarted the bitterness which threatened to swallow her. She feared if she let the feeling boil she would evaporate into nothingness.
Her brother's back rested on his black SUV. He crossed one leg over the other and watched her closely. Jordan was tall and slender. In his black suit, he reminded her of the ushers who'd worked at the theater her dad owned, when they were kids. He worked a stick of gum into his mouth. His body blurred in the heat of anger that encircled her.
They were about; somewhere near. She could feel it when the wind changed. Their presence drove back the humidity and perfumed the breeze with honeysuckle. In the difficult days of her life, they always arrived. She dared not mention it to Jordan. He would have her locked up if she confessed she saw them there.
Jess glanced to the tree line that separated the cemetery from a subdivision nestled behind it. In the shadows of a massive, live oak, she saw the two familiar figures. One was blond with the body of a man and the soft skin and features of a teenager. The other was female, and although Jess couldn't see her clearly from her vantage point, she knew her hair was brown and her lips were a peculiar shade of crimson.
They materialized from time to time, as though their presence was scripted into Jess's life at precise moments. To her, they were as obvious as her brother daydreaming by his vehicle. Even so, she was the only one who saw them. At her father's funeral, they'd sat in the pew behind Jess and her mother. The girl had laid her bony fingers on Jess's shoulder, releasing the relentless tension she'd felt, and yet her mother hadn't noticed. Jess recognized from the outset, their comfort was only meant for her, or maybe she was just crazy.
They weren't the only spirits who haunted her. The others appeared in malls, stood on corners, or occasionally passed her on crowded streets. She didn't fear them, because they hauled around a load of tranquility, which spilled onto her, and when her eyes lingered on them the world slowed. Whoever they were, their purity ran so deep she could feel it tunnel itself into the shadows of her heart. In those brief seconds, when they crossed her path, she felt she could make amends with the tragedies of her life.
She turned away from the couple and refocused on the roses arranged in a beautiful spray over her mother's final resting place. The smell of orange blossoms emerged from the heat of the August afternoon and embraced her. The anger slipped away, allowing her a vision of her mom smiling as she cleared weeds from a rose bed planted in their backyard.
Jordan shifted his weight anxiously next to the SUV and audibly cleared his throat. Jess knew it was time to leave. Her insides knotted against her chest making it necessary to struggle for every breath, and the tears she'd managed to stow away during the funeral came in a cascade of mascara, despite her protest. Her strength was draining and under the weight of grief, her legs buckled. Suddenly in motion, Jordan pushed away from the car with his palm and crumbled on the ground beside her. He pulled her to his chest and kissed the top of her head supporting her, just as he always did.
They stayed for a while, entwined on the manicured lawn gazing upon the box that contained their mother. They had been abandoned, and they both felt the crushing loneliness. Jordan alone held the ties that kept Jess from unraveling. He had been drinking again. The earthy aroma of whiskey hung on his breath and a web of red lines crisscrossed the whites in his eyes, but she couldn't chastise him, and she couldn't blame him for giving into the only crutch he thought allowed his survival.
Jess steadied herself against his body and stood, staring blankly at her brother. Jordan unfolded her fist and buried a key ring in the palm of her hand. She fingered the three keys. The sadness in his eyes said he didn't want her to hang on their inevitable goodbye. She looked towards the trees where the couple had been. Jess couldn't see them anymore and their sudden absence made her isolation more profound.
"Listen, the apartment in the French Quarter is paid for. I'll take care of the house. You need to go for a while so take my SUV."
His dark eyes were surrounded by deep blue shadows. He obviously hadn't slept in days. Jess searched her brain for an argument, but inside she wanted to travel as far from reality as his Chevy could take her. "I love you. I promise to call every day. Jordan…"
He put his hand on her shoulder, halting her words, a gesture only she could comprehend. They were less than a year apart, and sometimes his thoughts were hers before they developed properly. "Jess, go. You can't stay here. I'm going to take care of things and figure out what to do now. You have to find out what being you means." He rested his arm on the casket and then laid his head on it, his voice breaking. "Without this."
She nodded as a red Ford Focus pulled in behind the SUV. His ride back to the horror of life waited for him, and she needed to get going.
"I love you," she said again. "Please be careful." Her voice reflected only a hint of the pain she felt.
"We're going to be together again. I want you to be happy. That's why I want you to go."
She threw her arms around him in a final hug and pushed him towards the car. As she watched the gap between them grow, she tried to convince herself starting anew would make her stronger. However, as he pulled away, she felt overwhelmed by solitude harsher than all the losses she had suffered. She wanted to stay, but they had to find a way to become people outside of their protected world, and Jess ordered her emotions back into their cage.
Chapter 2
New Orleans had always been no more than a distraction for Jess and her family, a playground where her parents allowed her and Jordan indulgence in the debauchery of the carnival season. The apartment was tucked into the corner of a frame and brick building that had been constructed circa 1851. Situated on the first floor, it boasted a stone courtyard, from where she could clearly see the top of St. Louis Cathedral. Jess pushed open the French doors to let the stale air circulate. It had been a year since they'd last visited, and Jess sneezed as she yanked the sheets her mama had used to guard against dust, from the furniture.
Cars whizzed by the wrought iron gate, but the thick ivy laced over the brick pillars and iron fence provided a bit of privacy. During Mardi Gras, the parades rolled on the street, and sometimes street performers set up camp outside the yard. The ceilings were twelve feet high, and the top-to-bottom windows threw morning light across the pecky Cypress floors. It was small compared to adjacent properties, but her parents had decorated it as though it was a palace. Jess stood in the foyer now and wondered why it felt more like a prison.
The windows pushed opened from their tops, and on the hour cathedral bells rang announcing the passage of time. When it rained, the drops made music on the copper top of the fireplace that was never used. In this tiny place, the ghosts of happiness hung like Spanish moss on the Cypress trees, on Bayou Manchac.
During Mardi Gras season, they'd resided in the flat every weekend. Jess and Jordan were accompanied to New Orleans on those trips by packs of friends who slept on air mattresses scattered across the living room. The rest of the year, her parents had leased the apartment to tourists who would pay any amount to have a place to crash after a night on the town. In their beds, revelers slept off the alcohol they consumed in bars, on streets with names like Decatur and Bourbon. Jess and her family visited after Katrina and worked in the Vieux Carre'. They helped the shop and gallery owners paint and clean and prayed life would return the following spring. It had taken far longer than that, but the carefree personality of the City was finally being uncovered. New Orleans had been beat down, but she could never be taken out.
As Jess wandered through the flat looking at the plants her mother had repotted only a few months before, she noted their wilted stems and dried leaves. They needed to be watered, and picking up her mother's favorite milk glass pitcher, a deluge of emotions assaulted her. Mama's face was everywhere, in every corner of the apartment. Jess saw her standing at the stove frying fish and on the patio with her feet propped on a chair polishing her toe nails. The haunting memories cemented the conclusion she needed a job despite the money she'd inherited. The less time she spent in this mausoleum of memories, the better.
There were things she needed to do before she could leave. The clothes in her closet smelled like mothballs, and she refused to wear them before they spent time in the washing machine. The refrigerator was empty save for a bottle of ketchup and a Styrofoam container, which she wasn't about to open. She chucked it into the trash.
Perhaps some poor soul would take pity on her and be her friend. She was somewhere different; somewhere she could start fresh and release the fury that kept her from sleep. Jordan insisted an escape to New Orleans would deliver her soul, and urged her to leave, so she could find contentment, again.
She set about organizing the few clothes she'd brought in the bedroom where her parents had once slept. On a bedside table sat her mother's Bible. She raised both hands and brushed away the hot tears with the backs of her fingers. The Bible had been her mother's most prized possession, given to her by the priest who married her and her father. Jess plucked the Bible from the table and let her weight fall into the plush lilac comforter spread across the queen sized bed. She thumbed the onion skin pages of the leather-bound book until she could no longer feel her hands, the wrath, her soul's newest bedfellow, was an emotional storm cloud. Her tears fell again, like squalls of hatred originating in the belly of that cloud.
Voices funneled in from the street outside. Jess peered between the dark wooden slats of the blinds. A couple stood in the street, their faces colored by the passion of their words. She couldn't see their features clearly, but the woman's body was animated by rage, as she stalked away from her companion. She turned sharply. Arms waving, she screamed her despondence filling the void between them. "I hate you, Stephen. I wish I had never married you."
Jess shook her head rocked by the display. How could God allow the innocent to lose everyone, while families divided by pettiness were bound together for years? They had no concept of how blessed they were, yet the precious souls who knew their good fortune were wasted. The Bible was lead in her hands, and Jess struggled against the urge to rip its pages and destroy what felt like make-believe. If God was real, why was He punishing her? What did she do to deserve the worthlessness He'd inflicted on her?
A long-forgotten memory poked into her awareness, and Jess heard her mother's voice chiding her, for her lack of conviction. God doesn't step in to alter evil. Doing so would be like taking away the gift of free will He's given us. The words echoed through Jess' mind, but they still sounded like pointless rhetoric. Where had God been while Mama was ill? Where was God now? He had abandoned her, left her without direction and with no one to validate her, and for this Jess wasn't sure she could forgive Him. Jess shoved the Bible into the bureau under a pile of her mother's clothes and slammed the drawer.
God, I swear I'll never subject myself to you again. If you won't help me, stop intruding in my life. The words were only alive in her head, but she had finally strung the thoughts together she hadn't been allowing, and it was liberating.
All at once, the confinement of her new home was smothering. In a rush to avoid further reflection on a fickle Creator, she walked to the closet where she stared blankly at her wardrobe. With tremendous effort, she decided on a pair of jeans and a tank top that boasted an embroidered rose. It reminded her of tattoo flash, and she liked the way the color brought out the green flecks in her eyes. Her brown hair fell in loose curls below her shoulder, and she pulled it into a ponytail, indifferent to the unruly strands falling against her face.
In the bottom of the closet was the blanket Jess had dragged behind her until she was seven. It had been a baby-shower gift from her mother's best friend. Mama had named it Stinky, because she could only pry it out her toddler's hands to wash it when she was asleep. Jess stroked the fabric, and it disintegrated between her fingers. She looked down at the tiny fibers which littered the carpet and realized the spirit of the bubbly girl she had once been had taken leave.
A forced smile did nothing to stir up happiness, and even the things she'd treasured as a girl, had turned on her. She couldn't even invoke the anger to which she'd become accustomed. A pair of sandals on the floor was high enough to dress up the denim, so she slid them on and trusted the New Orleans' nightlife would persuade the missing parts of her soul to return.
Darkness fell, and she knew she would go out and play. Locking the door behind her, she exited onto the street from the sanctuary of the courtyard. The moon was not quite full, and it cast a glow across the brick sidewalk. The visual impact further aged her surroundings. A trolley crossed on Canal Street, and she heard the brake system groan as it stopped to discharge its passengers, on a nearby corner. Before her feet found the asphalt, a carriage pulled by a single mule swayed by, and Jess smiled, comforted by the sight.
Chapter 3
Jess regretted the sandals as she teetered down Bourbon Street's busy footpaths. Blisters already formed on the tiny bones of her ankle. She should have opted for flip-flops. A neon sign above her head glowed in shades of deep purple, indicating her feet were pleading for pardon outside of a pub called Dez's.
Rain began to pour from the eave where she took refuge. She glared at the dark clouds and considered perhaps her Maker had sliced a hole in the canopy above her to punish her betrayal. She leaned over and fumbled with the strap of her shoe. As she hopped on one foot trying to keep her bare foot from getting wet, she skipped forward and nudged an elderly lady. With surprising strength, the lady shoved Jess back into the wall. Jess giggled. Her maniacal dance was amusing, even to her, and just when she'd found delight in the way the cosmos mocked her, her heel snagged on a rock, and she landed on the wet cement with a thump.
As luck would have it, a group of guys was edging towards the bar. They stepped across her splayed body to gain entrance, none of them bothering to acknowledge or rescue her. Appalled, Jess said loudly, "So much for chivalry."
She must have been invisible, and as the air around her thickened she watched them disappear through the door. Rather than indulge her fantasy of dissolving into the puddle beneath her, she righted herself while wiping raindrops from her forehead. She checked her reflection in the window and sighed, feeling less than appealing and completely exposed. Nonetheless, she vacillated in the door then entered behind the creeps.
The storm blew hailstones against the tinted windows, and it reminded Jess of an out of tune piano her brother had kept in their garage for years. She thought the glass would shatter, so she scurried towards the safety of the building's center. The place was an oasis. The room was dark, lit only by miniature tea candles on the tables and a fluorescent bulb behind the bartender, which illuminated bottles of liquor above his head. There were just a few tables, and the bar ran the length of the wall. The place was small, but unlike the tourists in other bars, everyone at Dez's seemed to share a commonality. Their comfort level and ease with each other indicated it was a local hangout, and she found herself relaxing into the vibe.
A nymph of a girl sat on a barstool, her legs pulled under her as she used the cypress counter to provide support. She leaned across the wood for a better view of the TV mounted to the wall. LSU was playing football on the screen, and a loud roar escaped the crowd when they scored a touchdown. The woman on the stool twisted around and eyed Jess when she nestled into the seat next to her. She flashed a smile exposing her perfectly formed teeth and motioned to the bartender, who ambled over to Jess.
Jess ordered a cranberry and vodka and reached for the girl's extended hand. "I'm Jess."
"Vi."
Excitement rose from Vi, entangling itself in the air around the two of them. The girl emanated a genuine nature that somehow made it easier for Jess to breathe. "Vi?"
Vi laughed, her head cocked to one side exposing her long, graceful neck. "Yeah it's short for Violet, but no one calls me that." The bartender stopped to refill her drink, and she twisted her pout at him. "Thank you, Dahlin'." Her rich brogue announced her residence in one of the suburbs of New Orleans. Jess' mother had developed the same accent when she lived in Kenner as a child and then again before Jess and Jordan were born. Every time Vi spoke, Jess heard the voice of the ghost who haunted her.
Vi was lovely in a way that made everyone else look homely. Scarlet tresses styled in a pixie cut created a halo of soft curls on her head. Her eyes were emerald beacons under her lashes, and the contrast to her porcelain complexion was striking. Every feature on her tiny face was delicate and precisely placed. Wow, I bet the guys line up to drown in those green eyes, Jess thought as Vi favored her with another smile.
She crossed the pub in search of the ladies room; her perky walk alone indicated she knew the world watched. Jess felt, a bit, plain and insecure watching the girl bounce through the room. It was splendid to watch her move.
When she returned, Vi spun Jess' bar stool around. "Sweet cheeks, this one right here is Marcus, and the tall, skinny one over there is Jeremy."
"Nice to meet you." Jess shook Jeremy's hand, and Marcus forewent any pleasantries and embraced her in a bear hug lifting her from her seat.
"Now, don't go thinkin' you're buying drinks tonight." Jeremy waved the bartender over and ordered another round.
The pair appointed themselves entertainment, cracking jokes and dancing a ridiculous victory jig every time LSU scored a touchdown. When they weren't commenting on the women who passed outside, they hung on Vi's words, as though they waited for her to breathe, so they could too. They were, without a doubt, under whatever spell Vi cast when her eyes opened upon the world each day. Marcus and Jeremy were funny and paid for all the drinks, even when Jess insisted on switching to Dr. Pepper. They were, however, less interesting than the guys who had ignored her humiliation and possible injury, upon their arrival. Marcus and Jeremy were good looking, but the other four downright gorgeous.
They assembled at a corner table; their attention held tightly, to each other and the secrets infused in their conversations. In this one location, they held court, and when outsiders approached, it raised little response from the quartet. They were a study in brotherhood and inexplicably fascinating. As Jess watched them communicate, she realized she was surrounded by people who donned supremacy like a badge, and she felt like an outsider.
Vi watched Jess, a look of amusement coloring her cheeks. "Gorgeous aren't they?"
Jess gasped realizing her attempts to be subtle had failed. She swallowed the lump in her throat and grinned. "Yeah, unnaturally."
"I think they're brothers. They work at Harrah's dealing cards and come in here all the time," Vi said, before downing what remained of the drink in her hand.
Jess glanced back at them, no longer wary of being caught. They were looming figures, under the halo of light projected from a candle on the table. Despite their size, they were svelte and muscular. She'd noticed their fully defined biceps and stomachs, under their thin cotton t-shirts, when they'd stepped over her, outside. Their skin, like Vi's, was a milky shade of a pearl with the same reflective quality, and Jess wondered if Vi knew more about them than she'd revealed.
The pair who sat huddled at one of the tables shared the same sandy brown hair. Across from them a blond, with hair so fair it seemed to glow, sat studying his cell phone. And, reclining at the far end of the table, his feet resting in a chair, was the most extraordinary person Jess had ever seen. His hair was coal black, and although he was not as tall as his companions, he was somehow more imposing. The color of their eyes belonged to a spectrum of hues unfamiliar to the rest of the world. The dark haired one glanced up and caught her ogling him. Jess felt like he had punched her. She struggled for a ragged breath then couldn't expel it, so she spun in her chair and drained Vi's mixed drink for courage.
Chapter 4
Earlier, Justin had sat alone in his bedroom watching rain trickle from the roof line onto the patio outside, where it collected in an empty Coke bottle. He'd planned to be knee-deep in a pity party by the time his brother, Rory, returned from work.
It was difficult not to feel sorry for himself. He was utterly surrounded by the stench of humanity. He had asked for this very thing. He'd wanted to commune with them, be part of their world, but he'd soon discovered they repulsed him. He watched the human race and wondered how they managed to take their faultless existence and make it complete crap.
So he passed his time on days off watching the horrid humans and even he found it pathetic. If he wasn't dealing cards at Harrah's, he sat on the couch in the French Quarter townhouse he shared with his three brothers and loathed his circumstances.
Dealing cards at the casino kept his mind from lamenting on things over which he had no control. Cards distracted him from the examination of mankind. They held no surprises and fell in predictable patterns. The stability comforted him. The notion that something so simple calmed him was ridiculous, but the serenity he found behind the table was the reason he returned to the casino night after night.
Justin's principles had been complicated by the years he had wasted on Earth. The average mortal got out in eighty years, maybe ninety if they lead a mundane existence, but he had been stuck here for over three hundred, and for him the second hand no longer swept across the clock. The totality of his life was mind numbing, so he tried to block it out with work.
A life lived well beyond the average lifespan, had become redundant, especially, given the intense hatred he'd developed for the creatures sharing the planet with him. Rory insisted Justin was a bigot, too preoccupied with himself to understand the human dilemma, but Justin denied it. If he was somehow prejudiced against humans, it was through no fault of his own. They were, after all, repulsive most of the time.
He was comforted by the rain as it streamed down the window. It had been a full decade since Justin experienced adventure. He couldn't remember the last time something piqued his interest. The music these days was mediocre at best, and it was rare that some poor soul was able to pour thoughts into a book which could hold his interest.
He would have remained in his room pondering his restlessness, but his brother hauled him to their usual hangout. They were all there together, Blake, Lathan, and of course, Rory. Dez's was a safety net of sorts, a place where they could drink and talk. Thankfully, the other patrons ignored them, for the most part. In fact, Justin couldn't remember the last time a newcomer graced the place, which is exactly why the girl across the bar intrigued him. He didn't know her, but that was only one reason he had spent the evening absorbed in watching the slim brunette with the haunting sorrow in her eyes.
He hadn't heard her name - not yet. She'd wandered in from the rain shaking an umbrella and trying to look aloof. It had taken Vi less than ten minutes to engage her in conversation, and once Vi hooked the girl, they sat together for the rest of the evening. Vi had been his friend for years, and she could unfailingly be counted on in these matters. They often found the same people intriguing, and he knew she would befriend the newcomer.
New Orleans was a sea of appealing women with pleasing accents flowing from pretty lips, but there was something about this girl's beauty, something that kept Justin's eyes planted on her. She caught him gawking at her, and he didn't bother to look away. Humiliation was just another useless human emotion he wouldn't even pretend to possess.
Rory wanted to introduce himself, but Justin vetoed the plan with a look of warning. Luckily, his brother seemed more interested in Vi and sat down again with an easy grin. Justin was entirely relaxed until Dawson placed himself at their table begging for a fight. Dawson could always be relied on to kill a good mood. His Mohawk was tapered into precise points atop his head, and that alone made Justin want to punch him.
"What's the matter Justin? Rory baggin' all the babes or did someone shoot your dog?" The smell of tobacco and wet hair gel clung to Dawson like a disease. Only the fact that he had lost the ability to stave off the odor of humanity, made him less annoying.
Justin didn't respond. Maybe if he ignored the moron he would take the hint and buzz off. Besides, he couldn't take his eyes off the beauty with Vi, and Dawson's gaze followed his.
"Ah, I see. You know she's off limits." Dawson leaned in closer, and used his foot to jolt Justin's boot from the chair next to him.
"Don't touch me again, Dawson. And drop it. She's human in case you haven't notice."
"A human I bet I'll take home tonight." Dawson's sardonic grin dripped with conceit and punctuated the dramatic wink he granted Justin.
Justin slid his palms together as the skin over his knuckles hardened into stone. He allowed Dawson to gloat long enough to take a sip from his drink, and then laid him out with one colossal blow. He didn't bend over to say all the things he was thinking; he figured the black eye would say it all. The girl was watching, and Justin nearly felt ashamed, but she was just another human, and he wasn't going to concern himself with what bothered her. Not now anyway.
Chapter 5
It was after three in the morning when she'd finally made her exit. She hadn't wanted to leave, but the night would end, with or without her approval. Even the hardcore bar flies had long since stumbled from the building and Jess saw the bartender blowing out candles on empty tables. When she headed to the door, the quartet in the corner was approaching, apparently reaching a similar conclusion.
She should have been paying attention to her own steps, but Jess's eyes were transfixed on the foursome and the way they moved in unison towards her. Her foot caught the bar stool closest to the door, and she clutched the edge of the counter, to prevent her body from spilling onto the concrete for a second time in one evening. She managed to save herself, but her purse was a casualty of her clumsiness and lay on the floor taunting her. She leaned over mumbling and wishing she could crawl back to her chair for a do over. "What an idiot."
She heard a low chuckle and glanced up to see the stranger with dark hair standing over her. As her face heated with embarrassment, beads of sweat formed at her hairline. She assumed it would have been too much for God to spare her this one time. Exasperated with her lack of social graces, she exhaled and her breath formed in a cloud of vapor. The wind blowing through the open door was hot, and Jess regretted the mixed drink she ordered just before getting up, as it was playing with her mental stability. Her Coach bag dangled from his steady hand, and his smile stabbed at the bit of dignity she had managed to salvage.
Jess gazed up and was granted a better view of the unnamed hue that tinted his eyes. She saw the color rock within its borders in tiny waves. The smile left his lips, and when she reached out a trembling hand to take the purse, he turned and left her there without a word.
Less than an hour before, she had seen him knock a guy from his chair with one swift motion. It happened so fast that Jess almost missed the whole thing. She wasn't distressed by the display, because the guy he hit had cornered her in the bathroom. He'd leaned into her, his cologne making her eyes burn, and breathed on her neck. A wicked little laugh escaped his lips as his fingers brushed over her arm and she shivered. Then, as though he hadn't followed her, he glanced around declaring he had drifted into the wrong restroom.
She heard him call the brothers by name. Blue-eyes was Justin. His brothers were Blake, Lathan and Rory. Jess filed these names neatly into her memory bank. The newcomer's name was Dawson. Justin spat it at the kid right before he knocked him to the ground. Although, she probably should have had sympathy for the boy, she didn't. The way he raided her confidence while restraining her in the confines of the bathroom, made the tiny hairs on her neck stand on end, and he deserved the degradation.
On the street outside, Vi stood with Marcus and Jeremy, waving madly. "Hey you! Come to the casino tomorrow. Don't say no, just say you'll go." Vi held Jess' hands and bounced around like a teenager.
Jess laughed and imitated her jig. "Fine, fine, I'll go. See this?" She pointed to the giant dark stain on her rear. "This is why I couldn't leave my chair all night."
"Yeah, we'll work on your style." Vi kissed her cheek before skipping off in the opposite direction.
Finally back at the apartment she couldn't quite call home yet, Jess slid under the sheets then kicked her legs and squealed. First finding a friend, and then seeing mystery in Justin's indigo eyes made her heart feel like it was floating. Only hours before, she had set out to relieve herself of depression. Vi was a step in the right direction. Jess decided to share her enthusiasm with Jordan and grabbed her cell phone from the night table.
The phone rang twice then went to voicemail. She didn't say what she wanted; instead, she just asked him to call and lay staring at the ceiling tiles above her bed. The sound of rain on the tin roof did not lull her to sleep now, as it sometimes had. Jess had become someone different inside the safe harbor of Dez's. The guilt and grief which had been sewn into her being had evaporated in the hours she'd passed there. Her brain became preoccupied with the people who frequented the place, and she wondered if external forces conspired to bring souls together. Jess reminded herself she couldn't hedge her happiness on others, but Vi was just what she needed. She only hoped the girl was truly what she seemed, because people, in general, tended to be extraordinarily adept at hiding the ugliness which dwelled in them.
The drum of the rain on the roof fell silent. She counted in her head trying to block out thoughts of new people and their potential to impact her life, but they persisted. Inside that bar, the air felt easier to breathe, and Jess knew it hadn't been an illusion. There was something unique about Justin. She couldn't yet identify it, but he was almost too beautiful. A blush bloomed on her cheeks as she thought about him having been a witness to her humiliation.
Sometime around sunrise, sleep finally came, and Jess dreamed of her mother. Her mind reeled her back to her childhood, and into the arms of the person, she trusted most. She could smell her perfume and hear her laugh, and for a time, she believed the world in her head was real. She felt this way until her eyes opened, and she was thrust back into a reality where her mother and father were dead.
Chapter 6
Jess rolled out of bed long after noon had passed. Great. Stay up late, sleep all day. Was this what Jordan had pictured when he'd sent her off? Jess doubted it. She jumped in the shower, wincing at the sting of the hot water on her chilled skin. Wearing her mother's bathrobe, she searched for something decent to wear to the casino but gave up in the middle of her hunt. Instead, she lay across the bed and watched Young Guns for the hundredth time. Her mind fluttered with thoughts of her past and the isolation she felt away from home and Jordan. She couldn't remember being away from him for longer than a couple of days, and this new adventure meant she would spend weeks without him. Maybe she shouldn't have left him.
She tried Jordan's cell phone again, but the calls bounced into his mailbox, again. She left a message just before dressing, desperate to hear his voice. She wanted to tell him she was doing fine, but the fact that he wouldn't answer, made her believe she was not the one who needed to be watched. If she dwelled on him too long, she would imagine him drunk and alone, in the house where they grew up. She pushed those notions aside long enough to put on a little make-up and straighten her hair.
Vi knocked once, then pushed the door open and yelled, "Hello."
She didn't wait for Jess' response, but walked through the apartment shouting until she stumbled upon Jess' bedroom. One look at the magnificent redhead and Jess second-guessed all the choices she had made about her hair and clothes. Vi's knee high boots accentuated the length of her muscular legs, and her shirt dipped into her ample cleavage. Vi was flawlessly pulled together. It made Jess's stomach churn with envy.
She didn't bother to greet Vi or erase the indignation from her face. "Okay, I have to change."
"Girl, you look fine." Vi's words sounded earnest, but she dug in Jess' closet. Pulling out a pink frilly shirt, she looked over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "Really?" She continued pawing through the closet, turning her nose up at all the garments she touched.
After a few minutes of perusing the limited options, Vi tossed an off-the-shoulder, black shirt to Jess and wrangled her onto the bed where she whipped her hair into a twist. With a throaty giggle, she tossed a tube of lipstick into Jess's lap then stood back to admire her work. "Now, that's better."
Jess frowned at her reflection in the mirror. She wasn't nearly as leggy as Vi. She stretched her chin towards the ceiling hoping to lengthen her neck. "If you look like that all the time, this friendship will never last."
Vi laughed again as a smug grin of satisfaction, reddened her cheeks. "I have my days, just like everyone else."
"Yeah, right." Jess couldn't imagine Vi looking anything short of spectacular, and no matter how much she liked the girl, her flawless appearance sparked a flame of jealousy.
In the Quarter, anything worth doing was within walking distance, but Vi didn't want her hair to frizz in the humidity, which hung in a thick fog over the City. Jess sprinted to the cab in an effort to escape her own bad-hair-day, and in stereo, they directed the driver to Harrah's.
Jess found the three-card table from the entrance. Vi was already headed for a blackjack table, and she shooed Jess with a flick of her wrist and a mischievous smile. "Tell Rory I said hi."
Jess whipped around to see Rory hovering over the table where she planned to play. Her breath hung up in her throat until he used his foot to push a chair out towards her. "Have a seat, Cher."
His smile was intoxicating, and Jess studied the busy pattern of the rug to keep from gawking at him. She'd convinced herself the night before, that an excess of booze influenced her perception of Justin and his brothers, but sliding into the chair across from Rory, she struggled against a head-rush that indicated otherwise. His brown hair was much lighter than Justin's and fell in untamed curls against his cheeks and forehead, and his eyes were golden beneath a fall of thick lashes. The amber color of his irises seemed in perpetual motion, and Jess felt the movement of the crowded casino slow.
"Vi said to tell you hi." She cleared her throat and managed to grunt the words. As she spoke, she remembered how Vi had insisted she didn't know them. For some reason, the pretense made her smile.
"Oh she did, huh? Where is that girl?" Rory's stare forced her to return his gaze or risk revealing her discomfort.
"Blackjack," Jess said.
Just when she found her footing and began to relax in the vacuum that surrounded Rory, a hand tapped on his shoulder, and he stepped aside. Justin stood behind him his bottom lip turned down on one side in a permanent pout. Her breathing had just become stable, and once again, she couldn't force her lungs to function properly. She watched stunned as Rory embraced his brother in a half hug and walked away. Jess fumbled with her chips hoping she didn't lose the ability to communicate and end up looking like an imbecile.
She didn't have to speak first. Justin offered a fist-bump to the only other player at the table then leaned forward, his pout turning up in a delicious grin, as deep dimples appeared in his alabaster cheeks. "Winning?"
Jess hid behind a show of aloofness, coolly tossing chips on the table to place her bet. She was sure the false calm came off neurotic as she stuttered her first full sentence to him. "Hardly. I think your friend was trying to break me."
"My brother? Yeah, he's a jerk, but I'll try to do better."
"You've dealt like three hands, and I'm still losing. Maybe you should bring your brother back."
"Harsh. Can you give me a minute?" His gaze was fixed on her, and it was heavy and warm, owning a life all its own. When she glanced up, she saw the indigo eyes sparkle as he tried not to smile again.
"Yes!" Jess turned up three aces and squealed. She raised her arms and pushed the flats of her hands toward the ceiling. "Whoop whoop."
The player next to her slapped her hand in an enthusiastic high five celebrating her victory. Justin continued to deal, his face revealing nothing. "I think you owe me an apology."
Jess felt her self-confidence bolstered by the look exchanged between the man to her left and Justin. His eyes exposed what his face hid, and he took pleasure in her company.
"Fine, I'm sorry, and you can stay." She lowered her head regarding him through her lashes.
"So Lucky, you got a name?" His hands moved with such precision and quickness that Jess hadn't seen him deal again. He pointed to the stack of cards in front of her.
"It's Jessi…well, Jess." She corrected herself hoping the weaker moniker didn't stick.
Justin chuckled.
"What?" She threw the cards back at him, incensed.
"Nothing, I like it. It's very Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid or Toy Story, even." He winked at her and her irritation melted away.
"Yeah well, my parents weren't very creative. Sue me, but don't get too cocky. I think Justin is a kind of boot and maybe not even a good kind."
He stopped mid-deal and looked at her, feigning shock with raised eyebrows and an open mouth.
"People talk, and you have a bit of a reputation." Jess said while he paid her for the straight she held.
"I bet." His smugness made it impossible to concentrate, and once again, he had to remind her to place a bet.
It had been a while since Jess felt her insides coil over a guy. He made her nervous with his graceful movements and southern drawl. She giggled for no reason, and tried to ignore him. She would have been willing to stay and listen to him talk all night, but it was getting late, and she started to worry Vi had left her. The idea that leaving would mean she never saw him again kept her glued to the seat for longer than she intended. She heard him laugh and it jarred her from a daydream of stalking him.
"What's funny?" She glared.
"You are. You know, it's rude to stare." His cockiness became quite obnoxious, in that moment, and Jess looked over her shoulder searching for Vi. Justin ignored her angst, but before she could make an escape he spoke again. "You from around here, Lucky?"
She shook her head and allowed her body to sink back into the vinyl seat, as heat warmed her face and neck. "Baton Rouge."
"That explains it."
"Explains what?" Jess' mood teetered somewhere between irritation and intrigue. He had managed to embarrass her, but she still couldn't make herself go.
"You just have that suburban girl thing about you. So, it's not really Baton Rouge, but Central, huh?"
"Denham Springs, actually." Jess pushed her chair away from the table and stood up tossing her cards on the felt.
Justin favored her with a smile she was sure reflected his pity. "Come see me again, Sweetheart."
Instead of saying the laundry list of nasty things that entered her mind, she left the counter and headed to Vi. The redhead was perched at the blackjack table draped across the lap of a guy, who didn't look old enough to get in the casino.
"I'm going." Jess pointed to the door and mouthed the words from several yards away.
"Wait, I'm coming." Vi unwound herself from the blond's arms.
"No. Don't. Stay. I'll be fine." Jess nodded at the guy. "Have fun."
"Are you sure?" Vi's stare posed a hundred questions all at once.
"Yeah. Call me tomorrow."
Vi threw her a half-hearted waved, and turned her attention back to her companion.
Chapter 7
The door flew open, rebounding against the wall with a thump. Justin jumped to his feet as Blake burst into the room carrying a woman in his arms. He was soaked with rain as was she. Her long hair swept in circles as he carried her towards the sofa. Blood trickled from her head and leg, leaving a trail as Blake advanced. The sight caused some ancient power to stir in him. It squeezed the breath from his lungs and made his muscles ache and he moved across the room despite his hatred for humans.
His arms reached to take the girl from Blake, and his eyes settled on her face. It was her, the girl who had mesmerized him with her laugh. All at once, he had gone from counting the ceramic floor tiles, to staring down at Jess as he cradled her. His soul froze while his brain tried to make sense of the situation. His lips wouldn't move, and his gaze shifted from her to Blake and back again. Her skin was so soft against his. It reminded him of the fragility of the human body. Odd. He wasn't sure how this mental nod to mankind made him feel anymore.
"What happened?" Justin looked to Blake again. Justin scanned his brother's mind for answers, but saw nothing. Blake had locked him out. Fury rose like a hungry tiger clawing at his brain. "Blake!"
"Bro, she was attacked in the Quarter. I saw the whole thing." Blake's words came in gasps, as though the weight of her or the sprint to the apartment had winded him. "I heard her scream, and there was this dude on a motorcycle. Man, she hit her head. Maybe, I should take her to the…"
Justin frowned and waited for Blake to calm down. He knew if his brother focused on the girl, the truth of her identity would sink into his clouded memory. "No, we got this, really. Did you see him? The guy on the motorcycle. Did you recognize him?"
"I think it was Dawson. He had on a helmet. Justin, I thought he had killed her."
"If Dawson wanted to kill her, she'd be dead." Justin touched his fingers to the gash on Jess's forehead. She flinched and his spirit shifted once more, causing a stab of pain in the center of his chest.
"I didn't know if I should, you know. I just didn't know what to do." Blake was still breathing hard, and Justin smiled. Things still shocked Blake, and he loved that about him. His brother still found humans mystical, and still questioned his own place in the universe. It was an attractive quality; one Justin lacked.
"It's fine. She's okay now. Where was she?"
"Side street, no tourists, pretty stupid."
"Aren't they all? Delicate little lives, yet stupidity abounds." Justin delivered the words that were expected, but he felt protective of her. It wouldn't stop him from impressing upon her how reckless she had been.
Jess repositioned pain contorting her face. Her slight features became hard under the fire of her injuries. Justin reached up and stroked her face again, and then her knee. She relaxed and closed her eyes.
An entire hour passed before he saw her move again. Justin waited, motionless, propped on his elbows at the kitchen counter. She sat up, a sleepy confusion filling her eyes. He eased himself down next to her reaching for her head again. Fury ignited in her eyes, and he prepared himself for a fight.
"Where am I?" She squinted against the light streaming in through the heavy drapes. It was only a street lamp, but she shielded her face from it and grimaced in pain.
"My apartment. How's your head?" Justin rose and drew the drapes together.
"How'd I get here? Who? My head. I hit my head." She wasn't talking to him, but to herself rather, running her fingers across the uneven flesh on her forehead.
"Yeah, someone was after you. Blake yelled at the guy, and he dropped you." Justin struggled to conceal his concern. His true thoughts would alarm her. For that matter, they alarmed him.
Jess pushed herself up on her arms, her eyes clearer now. "Yeah, I remember. He came after me on a motorcycle. I was trying to run, but he grabbed me…my legs." She reached down and touched the bloody road rash on her right leg. "Dang it, I don't remember after that."
"There's a huge criminal population in this city, in case you didn't know. Are you hurting?" Justin might not like humans, but seeing this one in pain was more than he could take, even if it was because of a stupid decision on her part.
"Yeah, I am, but I think it's getting better." He observed her anxiety as she looked around the room, as though the walls may swallow her and wondered how she had the courage to walk alone in the Quarter, but his apartment made her squirm.
He brushed her head delicately with the tips of his fingers, waiting for her twisted expression to relax. When it did, he handed her two Tylenol. "Take this, and go back to sleep."
She snatched the bottle of water and pills from his hand. "I need to go home." She started to shuffle from the couch, but Justin pulled her back to him. He could smell the asphalt imbedded in her wounds, but beneath that he could detect the sacrifice and shame she'd endured; there was the smallest hint of grief, in her essence. The girl had suffered something more than her current injuries.
"Go to sleep. I'll take you home when I know you're okay."
She smiled, and Justin's tough exterior softened, as he watched her drift off to sleep. He wouldn't admit it to Blake, but he liked to look at her, to watch her safely locked in slumber. He wanted to feel the familiar indifference he felt around humans, but what stirred in him was a desire to curl up next to her and wake when she did. Justin didn't need to sleep, though. In fact, he couldn't if he tried. So, he fell back into the leather cushion and waited.
Jess was the kind of pretty that attracted trouble, and the way she tapped her foot anxiously in his presence indicated she had no clue. He watched her lips quiver as tiny breaths exited her mouth. He wanted to take her home and forget she existed, to file her in the same place he filed the rest of the vile individuals sharing her world. He had difficulty measuring her grace against their stupidity. She needed protection from things she had yet to see, and he had waited centuries to defend her.
When her eyes opened once more it was morning, and he watched with great interest as she pressed her feet to the cold, tile floor. When he had given her ample time to adjust, he joined her on the sofa.
"How's the head?" He looked away, but watched her from the corner of his eyes. He knew the effect the sideway glance would have on her and took more pleasure in the power to charm her than he should.
"Eh, less like I was hit by an eighteen-wheeler and more like it may have been a Mini Cooper." She beamed at him and his heart reacted.
"Do you feel up for a walk? I'm about to go stir crazy in this apartment." Justin stood over her coaxing her from the couch.
"Okay, but walk slow. My knees are killing me."
He wondered if the pain would teach her a lesson, as she made an effort to get off the sofa. "Alright come on. We can go to Jackson Square and see what kind of freaks are hanging around the cathedral."
She shrugged, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Justin did modify his strides to match hers. She was limping, and he felt a twinge of sympathy. Her jeans were torn, exposing the wounded flesh. If he allowed his attention to linger on her leg, he feared he'd use his powers to fix her, even though he'd have to suffer her reaction.
"I refuse to call you Lucky after the stunt you pulled last night." He didn't bother to look at her. He could feel the steam rising from her pores, and her temper amused him.
"Stunt? I didn't do it on purpose. I mean, I didn't do this to myself."
"Yeah, and here I was so sure you didn't need to be told walking through the Quarter alone is stupid." He kept his voice even, unchanged by the sharpness of the jab at her intelligence.
"I know. It wasn't my smartest moment. Don't rub it in. I just made a mistake. It was foolish."
"That's an understatement." Justin forced his face to remain expressionless. If he had any talent worth bragging about, it was the ability to prevent a human from reading him. This one gift had kept him occupied for hours at the poker table.
"You are such a jerk." Jess, however, didn't possess the ability to hide her contempt as it wrinkled her forehead. Her simplicity made her company more enjoyable. She was one of few humans he knew, who didn't hide their true feelings.
He decided to give her a break. She was still wincing with every step and deep inside he wanted to take that pain from her. "So what made you leave Baton Rouge, Jess?"
"Do we have to get personal now?" Her eyes rolled in their sockets as she quickened her pace. Justin wondered if she honestly thought she could lose him with a gimp leg.
"Well, generally, people don't leave all they know behind unless there's a reason. What was yours? Just curious." He lifted his hands exposing the flats of his palms, hoping she knew he didn't want to hurt her figuratively or literally.
Every time she spoke she glanced down at her feet and then rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand, as though she were struggling to hold a conversation with him, and Justin wished she would relax.
"My mom died." Her words ended abruptly, and he knew she didn't want to discuss it further.
"And?" He didn't tone down the sarcasm in his response, because it was a thrill to see the embers light behind her dark eyes.
She glared at him, attempting to push him away with her eyes. He supposed if she could raise a barrier between them she would have been content to drag it along. When he continued to watch her face in anticipation, she sighed and proceeded. "She was um, my best friend. It was horrible. I mean, what they did to her…the treatments. She had breast cancer, and it took everything from me. You know?"
Justin shook his head. No, he didn't know. He had never been separated, save once, from someone he couldn't live without, and he wouldn't do her the disservice of pretending he could relate.
"Well anyway, my brother, Jordan, didn't want me to stay. He didn't want me to sink into a hole of self-pity. I guess he thought starting over would keep me from falling apart. So, here I am."