He cocked that infernal eyebrow again.
“Fine.” Actually, not fine. But at the moment she couldn’t figure out an alternative for wiggling out of the situation she’d created by calling Cassie for help. At least not without looking like a complete asshole. “St. Ann’s apartments. Corner of North Prieur and St. Ann Street.”
“Which unit?”
“104C.”
A whole lot of calculation seemed to move behind his eyes. Whether he was plotting the physical location in his head, or just committing the information to memory was anyone’s guess. He jerked a hard nod. “You will stay. You will eat. You will be safe.”
With that, he turned and stalked toward the wide arched opening at the far end of the kitchen.
“Anyone ever told you you’re bossy?” she said to his back.
Olga and Cassie both cackled in unison, but it was Cassie who answered. “Get used to it. They’re all like that. But you really don’t want to pass up Olga’s gumbo. Nothing bad comes out of her kitchen, but she’s taken to Cajun food like nobody’s business.”
Setting dishes out on the table, Olga huffed out a sound somewhere between agreement and appreciation.
“You’re here!” A young boy a little over four feet tall scampered into the room, his dirty blond hair a little shaggier than most boys his age. He hurried to Cassie, wrapped her in a hug for all of a heartbeat, then stepped back and beamed a huge smile up at her. “I aced my math test so Mom said we get to go to that new ice cream place after dinner.”
“The one where they super-freeze it on the metal table and roll it up like straws?” Cassie said.
“Yeah. The Freezing Cow.”
“You’re not going anywhere if you don’t show good manners,” said the woman who’d strolled into the kitchen behind him. Dressed in an oversized ballet pink sweater, skinny jeans and white Keds, she looked like she’d hopped out of a Gap clothing ad. Especially, with her dark hair cut in one of those stylish pixie’s that somehow managed to look messily perfect.
Smiling, she steered her son toward Bonnie. “Sorry. Ice cream seems to trump general politeness in this house. I’m Evette Petrovyh, but most people call me Evie. This is my son, Emerson.”
“Nice to meet you,” Emerson said, offering his hand just as nice as could be.
Bonnie shook his outstretched hand. “I’m Bonnie.”
“That’s a pretty name,” he said. “We don’t have any Bonnies at school.”
“Yeah, I haven’t met many either,” she said. “Not exactly a go-to name unless your dad has a thing for Triumph Bonnevilles.”
Emerson’s eyes got super wide. “You’re named after a motorcycle? That’s cool!”
Okay, the kid got points for knowing motorcycles. Though, only a boy would think it was cool to be named after one. “Emerson’s a killer name, too. Sounds super smart.”
“Okay,” Olga said from her place at the stove. She turned, wiped her hands on a towel and motioned to the small table now set for dinner. “Dinner is ready. Everyone sit.” Her gaze cut to Bonnie and a wry smile tipped her lips. “Please.”
Evie volleyed a confused looked between Bonnie and Olga. “Did I miss something?”
Cassie shook her head, latched onto Bonnie’s arm and guided her to the table. “Just Bonnie getting a dose of Russian bossiness and her calling Roman on it.”
“Oh, that,” Evie said like such behavior was a run-of-the-mill occurrence. She pulled out a chair on the far side of the table, sat and zeroed in on Bonnie. “Good for you pushing back. Those guys mean well, but sometimes they’ve got the sensitivity of a gorilla.”
Olga made her rounds, spooning out generous portions into china bowls that were probably the same vintage as the house.
“So, you’re still at the television station, Bonnie?” Evie asked, buttering up her cornbread.
Wow.
Cassie wasn’t kidding about Olga’s gumbo. It was the bomb. A perfect blend of spices with a ton of andouille sausage, chicken and shrimp. She nodded and swallowed down the bite in her mouth. “Yeah. Just during the day on weekends, though. I’ve got another job running the Dusty Dog.”
Emerson giggled at that. “What’s the Dusty Dog?”
“A pub over in Tremé,” Evie answered before Bonnie could. “Me and some friends used to go there for karaoke before you were born.” She turned her gaze to Bonnie. “They got a new owner right?”
Bonnie wasn’t sure what startled her more. The fact that this classy chick actually knew about any pubs in Tremé, or that she’d actually stepped foot in the Dog. “Um, yeah. About a year ago. Nearly ran it in the ground in the first three months, but its rebounding now.”
“Probably because he hired you to manage it,” Cassie said.
Evie nodded sagely, spooned up a bite of gumbo and blew across the spoon. “Food and bars are tricky businesses. My friend Dorothy’s made it through recessions, floods and murder, but it’s been sketchy at times.”
“Where’s she work?” Bonnie said.
“Dorothy’s Diner over in Mid-City.”
“No shit?” she said before she could check herself. She winced as soon as her comment hit air and looked to Emerson. “Sorry, kid.”
Emerson grinned back at her. “You’re not gonna teach me anything new. You should hear Mom when she gets on a rant.”
“Hey, there,” Evie scolded playfully. “Don’t be ratting me out with company.” Still smiling, she dipped her head toward Bonnie. “I like your earrings and your bracelets. I’m a jewelry fan, too. Where’d you get ’em?”
Heat rolled up her neck and across her cheeks. The turquoise and carnelian beaded pieces she’d put on this morning were some of the first designs she’d done. Definitely nowhere near as intricate as the wire designs she’d been trying to fashion in the last month. “I made ’em.” She wriggled her right wrist where her mom’s silver bracelet hung alone. “All except this one. This was my mom’s.”
“You make your own jewelry?” Cassie put her spoon down and straightened toward Bonnie. “You never told me that.”
Bonnie shrugged. “I don’t wear as much at the station. I do good to come up with outfits that won’t make the HR lady fire me. Figure it’s better not to push it with homemade fashion.”
“Ever thought about making more for a side hustle?” Evie asked.
She had actually. Had even had people at the bar ask her for custom pieces more times than she could count. But every time she started to dig in and give it a shot, fear got the better of her. “It’s not real jewelry. At least nothing anyone would pay for.”