CHAPTER 27
I pedaled down Broadway toward Audubon Park, watching out for carelessly flung-open doors of cars parked against the curb and for vehicles on the road swerving around potholes without their drivers looking first.
My utilitarian bike with the floral basket hooked on the handlebars looked out of place among the ten-speed racers ridden by the coeds zipping past me on their way to class, but when Sam had asked me if I’d like to borrow hers, I’d declined. I’d wanted the comfort of the familiar, regardless of how it might look to strangers. Or Michael. The hardest part had been getting the bike to my uptown apartment. Beau had happily volunteered to put it in his truck, but then had made me drive. All I could say about the journey from the Marigny to Broadway was that my hands still felt stiff from gripping the steering wheel, and there were at least three dog walkers and two joggers who would have nightmares for days.
I met Michael at the fountain near the St. Charles Avenue entrance. I was glad for the barrier of the bikes; otherwise he might have expected a kiss on the cheek or at least a hug. Regardless of any residual attraction I felt for him, I wanted to dodge any comparisons to Judas and had promised myself to avoid physical contact with Michael. As if that might exonerate me later. I didn’t examine my thoughts too closely; I was afraid they might not stand up to scrutiny. Instead, I pushed them to the back of my mind to consider later. I knew that was a Melanie thing to do, but there were some things, like preparing spreadsheets and organizing drawers, that were absorbed like a type of latent hereditary skill by living for any length of time with someone like my stepmother.
“Good morning,” Michael said. The early sun made his dark hair gleam, and when he smiled, I could have sworn his teeth sparkled. “You look as beautiful as ever.”
He had to have been lying, because Jolene had let me wear my ancient sweats with the holes in the knees and elbows and hadn’t even insisted that I brush my hair before I pulled it back in a plaid Ashley Hall scrunchie I’d worn in high school. She’d allowed me to get as far as the landing before catching up to me with a tube of lipstick.
Knowing I could either waste time arguing with her or just give in right away—since either way, she’d win—I allowed her to put lipstick on my mouth. Despite what Michael might say, I knew a swath of bright pink on my lips wasn’t enough to transform me.
“Thank you,” I said, not bothering to hide my sarcasm.
He smiled even more brightly. “That’s what I love about you, Nola. Your honesty. For the record, I do think you’d be beautiful bald and wearing a potato sack. But the lipstick is a nice touch.” He lifted his foot onto a pedal. “You ready? Let’s take it easy so we can talk.”
I focused on my own foot placement while I grappled with the punch to my stomach at the word “honesty.” Forcing a smile, I began pedaling, following him toward the bike path.
Despite the cooler temps and partly sunny sky, the park wasn’t crowded, allowing us to pedal next to each other at a leisurely pace. “We’re looking forward to your visit to the beach house. My aunt and uncle left today to make sure everything is ready.”
“I’m looking forward to it, too. And I appreciate them allowing my entourage to come with me.”
“I get it. Your sister is only here for a short time. Don’t worry—she’ll have fun. There’s so much to do there. Or nothing at all. Lots of great reading nooks and hammocks. Too cool to water-ski, but the beach is nice to walk on. You know, I’m more than happy to drive you and Sarah myself. There really isn’t a need for Jolene to come just to drive you.”
“It’s too late. I can’t rescind the invitation, or it will hurt her feelings. Unless you want to do it.”
“Noooo. I’d rather not get on her bad side. I’ve seen what she can do with a Barbie head.” He grinned, and I found myself grinning back.
We rode around a group of oblivious pedestrians in the bike lane. I had a precarious moment swerving around fresh goose poop before returning to Michael’s side.
“I like your basket,” a little girl from the group called out. I chose to wave instead of being insulted that only a five-year-old might find my basket attractive.
“So,” Michael began, “besides my aunt and uncle wanting to explain their side of the story about the whole misunderstanding . . .”
“Misunderstanding? You mean having you pose as a romantic interest and break into my house to find evidence that could be used against them in a kidnapping? That misunderstanding?”
“Not in so many words, but yes. Obviously, there’s a lot that needs to be discussed about that . . . whole mess. They just want to be able to tell you their side and hopefully earn your understanding and forgiveness.”
“And if they don’t?”
He leaned back, sitting straight up in his bike seat. “At least they tried. And maybe I’ll understand a little more about their motivations. I know you don’t believe me, but I was in the dark as much as you were.”
“Until you ran away to your house in the North Carolina mountains, where there wasn’t any cell coverage. Very manly of you, by the way.”
“I’m not proud of that.” He slowed his bike and I did the same, following him as he dismounted and walked his bike across the grass to a park bench facing the lagoon. We leaned our bikes against one of the weeping willows and sat down on the bench, keeping more than a hand’s width apart.
“I know it’s hard for you to believe,” he continued, “but maybe when you meet my aunt and uncle you’ll understand how hard it has always been for me to go against them in any way. My parents abandoned Felicity and me when we were very young, but old enough to know that we’d been rejected. Our aunt and uncle raised us as if we were their own, giving us the love and attention that our parents seemed unable or unwilling to give. I owe them my loyalty. Which is why I have never questioned anything they’ve ever asked, knowing that every request comes from love and respect. And family.”
He leaned his elbows on his legs, clasping his hands between them. “You need to understand that my aunt, Angelina, and my father, Marco, were raised in the same household that included their grandfather Antoine. As you can probably guess, he commanded complete allegiance and devotion from every family member and his employees.”
“How? By fear and intimidation?” I thought of the dark shadow in my house and the unholy voices coming from the phone in my apartment. “Did he make people who crossed him disappear?”
Michael looked at me sharply. I met his gaze full on until he dropped his own to stare at his hands. “I don’t know for sure. He died when I was eight years old. Old enough to understand that he demanded my respect, but not old enough to know what would happen to others if he felt disrespected.”