Five

FIVE

C ami, as Georgine had told us she’d asked to be called since she was a precocious three-year-old, was in my estimation the smartest now six-year-old on the planet. She always had something interesting to tell me, like facts about the Milky Way, what desert was the hottest, or how male seahorses, instead of the females, carried their babies. She had learned to play the recorder much better than the other first graders—so when I went to the school assembly, I knew she was not the one horribly off-key. Simone had not been sure about that. Of all of us, she was the only one who merely tolerated Cami, which of course made the little girl utterly determined to get Simone to like her. It was, as far as I could tell, a work in progress.

Cami attended a Catholic elementary school, not because she or her mother were religious, but because Georgine liked the idea of small classes, individualized instruction, a well-balanced curriculum—and that she could get all that and not pay a million dollars a year. Parochial school was not as expensive as private school. Her mother, Dr. Wallis, had offered to pay for Cami to go to one of those STEM schools, which meant science, technology, engineering, and mathematics, but Georgine didn’t like the idea that her baby would be stuck there, in after-school care, all the way across town, until her mother could pick her up. Georgine felt that walking the Quarter every day with one of us was much better. And also, being that close in case of an emergency was a great advantage, not to mention the fact that on her route from school to the club people knew her daughter, waved, asked about her grades, and actually waited as she pulled out science projects or ribbons from PE, all of which made Georgine even happier. It took a village and all that, and Georgine liked that her daughter was part of the community.

I was walking down the sidewalk toward the school—you did not want to be driving on one-way streets in the Quarter on the cusp of rush hour, that was madness —when I heard, “This is smart,” and nearly tripped over my feet. “Walking is definitely the way to go,” Dawson concurred, as if we’d been discussing this all along.

He must have run to catch up with me, and in his sneakers, with cars driving by beside me, I hadn’t heard him. The cowboy hat and sunglasses didn’t fool me for a second, but since no one was screaming out his name, I was guessing his disguise was allowing him to blend in with the other mere mortals on the street.

His hands were on me because of the staggering I’d been doing a moment ago, making sure I didn’t do a face-plant into the cracked sidewalk.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked, noting that the hand gripping my bicep and the one on my abdomen were not moving.

“I was at the club, as you recall.”

“Yeah, but?—”

“And I wanted to talk to you.”

I shook my head, and he slowly let me go.

“No? I can’t talk to you?”

“I just wanted to walk for a bit and then pick up Cami.”

“Georgine’s daughter,” he said with a grin. “Yeah. That’s where she said you were going.”

I only stared at him.

“She seems really nice, been there three years, she said. You must’ve hired her six months after I left, right?”

I nodded.

“Georgine said that you didn’t have to be the one to go get her cute kid.”

“Yeah, but I needed to get my bearings, you know?”

“Because there I was, outta the blue.”

“That’s right,” I agreed, moving by him. “So if you could just leave me––”

“Rehab kicked my ass,” he informed me, not getting the hint and instead falling into step beside me easily. “And after I got out, I needed to regroup. In my head.”

“Are you listening to me?” I asked irritably.

“Yeah. I just wanted to explain that after I saw you last, we went out on the road for a bit, and then I realized that after three records and making lots of money and winning a lot of awards, including some Grammys, that all of that pretty much pales next to you.”

I stopped walking, and he wasn’t ready for that, went right by me, but then corrected and came back.

“Really?” I growled at him.

“What?”

“I haven’t heard from you in—” I thought a moment, realizing it was actually longer. “—over two years, but everything is nothing next to me?”

“It’s true,” he said flatly.

“You’ll forgive me if I call bullshit on that,” I grumbled, starting to walk again, bumping him with my shoulder as I went by.

“It’s not bullshit,” he argued, catching up easily. “I just thought I wanted one thing, and I did, just not like I thought I did.”

I stopped again, but he was ready that time and froze at my side. “The fuck does that even mean?”

“First off, is it fine that I walk with you, or do you really need to be alone?”

“Alone,” I answered, huffing out a breath and walking away.

A couple of minutes later, stomach churning, heart pounding in my ears, I looked over my shoulder to check, and as I suspected, he was about ten feet behind me.

I stopped. “What’re you doing?”

He grimaced as he moved up alongside me. “Well, I’m basically committed to this walk at this point. I mean, we’re closer to the school than the club, yeah?”

Both hands went into my hair, because already, that fast, he was driving me nuts.

“You’re wearing that a little longer than you used to,” he commented, smiling at me. “It looks good.”

“Shut up.”

“It does. You want me to lie?”

“Just, come on.”

The smile I got was radiant, and under the sunglasses, with the stupid hat on, the people in the cars sitting in traffic beside us were probably thinking what a beautiful man he was.

“Why did you follow me?”

“Because I just got back, and why on earth would I spend any time away from you for any reason?” he said with a shrug. “How does that make sense?”

I had no answer for him because I was both happy and annoyed.

“Is this the way you always come?” he asked after several moments of prolonged silence.

“I like to take the scenic routes,” I mumbled.

“I know,” he replied with a sigh. “I would cut through alleys and walk through courtyards, but you, down Frenchmen, crossing Esplanade, turning on Decatur, then down Ursulines to Chartres, and now, taking a left to the school.”

I scowled at him. “What’re you, a GPS?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m nervous, all right?”

“What’re you nervous for?”

“Oh, I dunno, Christopher, what could it be?”

I shook my head at him, but his sudden evil chuckle made me smile despite myself.

“Look at these poor bastards,” he remarked, motioning toward the drivers who had accidentally gotten in the far-right lane and now found themselves stuck in the school pickup line, along with parents, for an excruciating amount of time. “I’m guessing once you pass the crossing guard and the orange cones on the left with the motorcycle cop on the sidewalk here,” he said, waving at the officer, who returned the gesture, “you’re screwed.”

“I think this is probably what hell is like.”

He laughed, and as always, the sound ran through me, making all the places deep inside warm and ripe with feeling that had been missing for so long.

“You need to go away,” I found myself saying.

“Oh look, once you get through the gates, you have a long-ass driveway leading to a huge curve up there. That’s fun.”

“Did you hear me?”

“Of course I heard you, but just because you still like the sound of my laugh is no reason to get pissed off.”

I walked faster.

“You have every right to be mad,” he apprised me, remaining at my side with those long legs of his. “But again, I’m not the same person I used to be.”

“Explain,” I muttered through my teeth, angry at myself for asking but needing to know.

“I mean, I did need to go and see what me and the band could be. That was really important. But what I discovered along the way was that I don’t need to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame to feel like my life had meaning. I don’t need to be the greatest-selling artist of all time or have a one-in-a-million career. I just need to make records, see some fans, say thank you, and most of all, have a home and a man there waiting to love me.”

My heart clenched in my chest, no way for it not to with confessions like that.

“I fucked up by not calling, not showing up, but after I saw you the last time in LA, after the record came out and we toured and I fell right back into the drinking and drugs, I realized that to be the man you needed and deserved, I had to get clean. I was not going to show up broken and make you fix me. That wouldn’t have been fair. I had to come back as the best version of me I could be.”

It was both infuriating and heartfelt. “And I was supposed to be doing what all this time? Just waiting for you to come home like a loyal dog?”

“No, of course?—”

“Did it occur to you that when I got home from LA and didn’t hear from you again, that I got on with my life and met someone else?”

He moved fast then, ahead of me a few paces, then stepping in front of me, barring my path, making me stop or plow into him. Pulling off his sunglasses, he stared at me with those dark-blue eyes of his that were no longer heavy-lidded or drugged, but healthy and clear. His breath caught like he was scared. “Is,” he croaked out, “is there someone else? Did you fall in love while I was gone?”

At that moment, it would have been so satisfying to say I had. I could see the vulnerability in his eyes, on his face, saw the slight tremor that ran through him. I would have loved to cleave his heart in two.

And yet…the idea of purposely hurting the man I loved, had loved from the beginning and still loved now, seemed monstrous. It would snuff out all the hope he was brimming over with.

I wanted to punch him, though. Really, really hard.

“Chris,” he said gruffly, voice going out on him. “Is there…”

“No, there’s no one else,” I barked, fists clenched, slipping around him, mad at myself that I couldn’t even lie to him. “But I really wish there was.”

In moments, he was back at my side as I charged down the long sidewalk lining the enormous curved drive.

“I’m so relieved,” he told me. “And so very thankful.”

“That doesn’t mean I trust you to stick around even a little,” I said snidely. “Because we know how well that turned out the last time.”

“Would you feel better if you punched me?”

That was the thing with someone who knew you—they could say the things that were in your head.

“Why don’t we stop, and you can gimme a good one right in the gut.”

“Do not placate me,” I warned him. “You have no idea how pissed off I am.”

“I would never placate you unless we were playing,” he said softly, “and I know you’re mad. As I said earlier, you have every right.”

“I don’t need permission to be mad,” I snarled at him.

“I know,” he rushed out. “I just meant that I get why you’re mad, and you have my permission to beat me up.”

I said nothing.

“But I do need my face, my mouth, to sing, so…how about the bicep?”

“Stop talking,” I ordered him.

“No problem. Shutting up now.”

I ignored him, walking faster, having this sudden urge to run but keeping my stride brisk instead.

As I got closer to the front of the school, though, I noticed that Cami was not where she normally was, sitting on the granite steps that led into the administration building. Second, everyone was carrying gifts, bags, many with empty pans, and many kids had candy canes sticking out of their mouths.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I grumbled, pulling my phone from my back pocket. The phone rang three times before Georgine answered.

“What?” she snapped. “I’m working.”

“Did you neglect to tell me that this is the last day before Christmas break?”

A couple of beats of silence went by. “Wait. Is that right?”

“I’m going with yes.”

“Oh shit! I forgot all about that because she slept at her grandmother’s last night. I had to be up early to get to the fish market this morning.”

“She had all her gifts for her friends, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“So you forgot it was the last day, but you remembered the gifts?”

“Listen, motherhood is an unholy balance between being on top of some things and under others. My memory is highly selective. I can remember to send her with gifts and not remember that you will be playing the role of her sherpa today.”

“That’s great. We’re supposed to stop for food. I’m starving.”

“Stop whining. Just bring back my kid and everything else.”

“Were there serving dishes I need to find? Did you make stuff?”

“We made cupcakes with—oh, I see what you mean. Thank you. Yes. Do not leave there without my Christmas platters. There should be four: one with the three wise men, one with angels, one with reindeer, and one with bells. They are all done in a midcentury motif and are worth a small fortune.”

“One wonders why you would send them to school, then?”

She was quiet.

“Isn’t you wanting the other mothers to see them kinda bitchy?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Isn’t pride a sin?”

“Never mind,” she grumbled. “You and the Bible are not acquainted. Don’t even act.”

“Says you.”

“Says everyone, and though I appreciate you giving me more time in the kitchen for my prep, we both know you were runnin’ away from that man of yours.”

“I wasn’t running away from?—”

“Where are we going?” Dawson asked from beside me, sunglasses on top of the cowboy hat now as he smiled at me, waiting for an answer.

“Is that him?” She cackled. “Did he follow you there?”

“Never mind,” I told her, pointing for Dawson’s benefit before we started up the stairs of the administration building. “Besides the platters, is there anything else?”

“No. Hopefully she got a few gifts, just so she felt included.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means we are not quite as well off as others at that school.”

“I don’t know that it matters where Cami is concerned. All the girls love her and want all the things she has. She’s like a style icon already.”

After a moment she said, “Perhaps.”

“She is. You know she is.”

“Anyway, I was kidding about the sherpa part. It really shouldn’t be too bad.”

“That is the kiss of death right there. Thanks a lot.”

Inside the building, I started across the ancient polished oak floors, admiring the glass cases lining the hallway, which broke off into several directions. You could continue straight and then take stairs up or down. You could go left, down a short flight of stairs that would lead you to another hallway, or take a right and have the same choice. I took a right and went down the stairs, while kids on the other side of the rail that divided us went up, heading home.

Finding Cami’s classroom, I was assaulted by the scent of pine and peppermint that was at least better than the scent of cinnamon and clove that it had been before Thanksgiving. I was a big lover of plain beeswax candles that smelled naturally like honey and nothing else. I would have had a migraine if I had to sit in that room all day.

“Why do all holiday candles smell like this?” Dawson asked, coughing.

“Be good,” I ordered him.

“Like being in here for a prolonged amount of time wouldn’t give you a migraine,” he said, arching an eyebrow.

There was no getting away with anything when the person who knew you best in the world was with you.

Cami was in her uniform, with stickers all over the front, and she was wearing a necklace made out of red and white lollypops. Her desk, from the floor to the chair to the actual top of it, was covered in gifts. We would need two people carrying, so it was actually lucky that Dawson was there.

“Uncle Chris,” she gasped and left the group of girls standing around her small mountain of presents. She ran over, slamming into me hard, arms wrapping around my waist, head pressing to my abdomen.

She was shaking, which instantly alarmed me.

“What’s the matter?” I asked quickly, one hand on her back, the other cradling her head.

“I got into a fight at afternoon recess.”

“A fight?” That made no sense. Everyone loved Cami. Like, across the board, everyone adored her—kids her age, older ones, younger ones, and adults, we were all goners. She was smart and discerning and sized people up quickly. “Explain.”

“Are you Mr. Joseph?” asked a blonde woman who looked like she could have stepped out of a Tiffany’s Winter Wonderland ad. Her hair was up in a deliberate messy bun. It was artfully done with the wisps falling around her face. Minimal makeup, but with her peaches-and-cream complexion, nothing was really necessary. She was seriously giving Grace Kelly vibes from Rear Window with how lovely she was.

“No,” I said, and smiled, offering her my hand. “I’m her uncle, Chris Gardner.”

And of course, because Dawson was standing right there, no more than a foot away from me, and his sunglasses were off, the woman gasped.

“You’re Dawson West,” she barely got out, having grasped my hand and, surprisingly, not letting go the second she saw him.

“I am,” he said kindly, and she let my hand go and grabbed his.

“I have all your albums and saw you live in Nashville two years ago.”

He was giving her his million-dollar smile, the one that made his eyes glint, as he held her hand in both of his. “Thank you so much. It’s always wonderful to meet a fan.”

“I’m having the most surreal day,” she confessed to him, then turned to me. “I’m Nicole Amsel, and I had to stay and meet Cami’s guardian because your niece saved my daughter, Prue—she’s the one over there in the snowflake coat and matching beret—from a girl who’s been bullying her for some time. My husband and I had no idea this was happening.”

I eased Cami back then, as she had been holding on to me the whole time, and went down on one knee so we were closer to the same height. Her eyes were red. “What happened?”

She bit her bottom lip.

I squinted at her. “Did you do the right thing?”

Quick nod.

“Do you wish it hadn’t been necessary?”

Another nod.

“Did anybody get hurt?”

“No, sir.”

I shrugged. “Then spill.”

Apparently, Prue, who never went to the bathroom at recess or lunch, only during class time because that way, she knew she’d be safe, was going to die if she didn’t pee at recess. But as usual, when she was coming out of the stall, Emma Ritter, who never missed an opportunity to take things from Prue, like cute pins, Hello Kitty erasers and pencils, barrettes, keychains, and even her earrings once, was there and swiped the snowflake beret right off her head.

“I don’t know why Prue never tells her mommy or a teacher,” Cami told me before turning to Nicole. “I told her to. Last time before this, Emma shoved her in the mud by the swings, and she got really dirty.”

Nicole nodded. “I remember that day.”

“What happened at recess?” I prodded Cami.

She leaned into me then, it was one of her habits, and put her arm on my shoulder. “Well, when Prue was taking so long, I went in to make sure she was okay, and Emma had Prue’s pretty white hat with the sparkles on her head.”

I nodded.

“Today was special. We all got to wear hats if we wanted, which is why I have these antlers on. I know antlers aren’t a hat, but it was fine.”

Dawson chuckled, and I couldn’t help smiling. She was just so logical.

“I got it,” I confirmed, and I noted that Nicole covered her mouth so Cami wouldn’t see her smile.

“I knew the hat was Prue’s, so I walked in and snatched it right off Emma’s head and gave it back to Prue.”

“Then what?”

“Emma tried to hit me, so I pushed her away, and then I grabbed Prue’s hand so we could run out of the bathroom together.”

“But?” There had to be more.

“But Emma pulled my hair.”

Georgine was a great mother who always stressed keeping your hands to yourself, never starting a fight, and never hurting anyone. However, the addendum was, if someone struck you, if someone purposely got in your face and was prepared to do you bodily harm or, heaven forbid, pulled your hair, then that was what your karate was for.

“What’d you do?”

“I flipped her over my back.”

“Like you did Henry Rafkin in karate class?” I had only seen her do it one time, to Henry, her best friend in the world, onto a thick mat. His father, Seth, was a very nice man, and he and his son were Georgine and Cami’s neighbors, since Georgine had bought her house two years ago when she moved out of her mother’s home. As far as I knew, Dr. Wallis was still annoyed about that, though with how perfectly she wanted her house kept, and with Georgine being a chef, I suspected she also liked them being gone just a bit.

Cami nodded, worried eyes searching mine.

“What were you supposed to do, angel?”

“Get a teacher.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“There wasn’t time.”

I held her gaze and waited.

She nodded quickly. “I should have run out when Emma let go of my hair, but I was mad, and Mama said no one should touch me.”

“If there was…” I prodded her.

She sighed deeply. “No other choice.”

“That’s right,” I agreed. “Now, was there another choice?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes filled suddenly before she was hugging me again, her arms wrapped tight around my neck. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” I said, rubbing her back. “I’m very proud of you for sticking up for your friend.”

She whimpered and then turned her head to look at Dawson, who was crouched down beside me.

“Hi there.”

“Hi,” she replied, then offered him her hand as she’d been taught. “I’m Miss Camille Joseph, but you can call me Cami.”

“It’s my pleasure, Cami,” he said, taking her hand in both of his and giving her his flashing smile. “I’m Dawson West, but you can call me Daw.”

She nodded. “Are you a friend of my uncle Chris?”

“I am. I’m his best friend, and you’ll be seeing a lot of me because I will be playing music at the club for the foreseeable future.”

“Okay,” she said, processing his words. “I like your hat.”

“I like your antlers.”

Her slow smile, as her eyes were still wet with tears, was good to see.

I glanced at Nicole as Mrs. Guidry, their teacher, crouched down beside me and released a long, tired sigh.

“At least it’s the last day,” I offered cheerfully.

“The thing is, it wasn’t just Prue and Cami in the bathroom. There were two second graders and one sixth grader, who,” Mrs. Guidry leaned in and whispered in my ear, “was very impressed with Cami’s throw.”

“That’s great,” I groaned.

She shrugged. “There was also Vanessa,” she said, pointing across the room, where Prue was standing next to a girl with a pink-and-gold Santa hat on. “And Katie, and Charlotte. I had them all write down what they saw, and as I informed Mrs. Amsel, my understanding from the girls is that this bullying has been going on since the beginning of the school year.”

“I have no idea why she didn’t tell me,” Nicole said, sounding sad and exhausted.

I gave Cami a final squeeze, then sent her back to her friends.

“This could be as simple as her not wanting to disappoint you. Maybe she was scared, and if that’s it, then she can take karate with Cami.” I suggested, standing up.

Nicole’s eyes suddenly filled.

“I used to be a grabber and a hugger,” I told her, “but now I ask first.”

She nodded quickly, so I stepped in close and wrapped her in my arms. “It’s gonna be all right.”

When she stepped back after several moments, Mrs. Guidry was right there with the box of tissues.

“Whatever this is about, she’s on break now, so you have time to figure it out. And if you need her to see a therapist, Cami has a great one in Dr. Belinda Khan. Because sometimes even the most well-adjusted kids have questions.”

“What does Cami struggle with?”

“An absent father, and so all of us, especially the men in her life, let her know all the time how smart and funny and loved she is.”

“Not pretty?” she teased me.

“Pretty is way down the list. Her mother likes smart and funny better.”

“She sounds perfect.”

“She has a full-time job and a kid. She’s doing the very best she can, and she has help.”

Nicole blew her nose as a man breezed into the room. He was tall, dark, and very handsome in his suit and tie. Plus, I had a soft spot for men with glasses.

“What happened to all of you?” he asked, looking at her, then me, then Mrs. Guidry, and finally back to her. “I was only gone for five minutes putting stuff in the car.”

Apparently, he was playing the role of sherpa himself.

“Okay, maybe longer than five minutes,” he amended, smiling at me, “but that is a schlep and a half from here to the parking lot.”

Still sniffling, Nicole said, “This is Mr. Gardner, Cami’s uncle, and he was just telling me that Cami sees a therapist, so if we wanted one for Prue, we could get a number from him.”

His smile heated, and I liked what it did to his hazel eyes. He and his wife made a stunning pair. “You’re not wearing your cape today? Is it at the cleaners?”

“That’s right,” I said seriously. “We had some rain, you know.”

It was just banter, but apparently that didn’t matter to Dawson, who stepped into me, putting his hand on the small of my back, which Mr. Amsel couldn’t see, but just him being that close spoke of possessiveness. And really, there weren’t that many places that his hand could be.

The fact that in the middle of a first-grade classroom, Dawson had to stake his claim was ridiculous, but also remembered. He had always been very upfront about people knowing we were together.

Of course, as soon as Mr. Amsel’s attention moved from me to Dawson, his eyes did that thing that everyone’s did and went big and round and he had his hand out instantly.

“Dawson West,” he said, clearly starstruck. “Huge, huge fan.”

“Thank you,” he said tightly, not nearly the same warmth in his voice as there had been with Nicole.

“Me too,” Mrs. Guidry chimed in, taking Dawson’s hand next. “Big fan. I have a concert T-shirt you signed for me when I saw you in London.”

“Well, after the holidays, I can send Cami with a signed CD or the album notes from?—”

“Oh yes!” she said excitedly. “The album notes from Gasoline , please.”

“Consider it done.”

She was beaming at him and then turned to me and grimaced. “Mr. Gardner, I understand you usually walk Cami home from school, but did you by any chance bring a car today for the cage?”

That fast, she lost me. “The cage?”

Dawson snickered, because he heard the surprise in my voice clear as day.

She pointed across the room at the large cage where a very cute white rabbit was sitting, looking back at me.

I leaned sideways, around Dawson, who was biting his bottom lip so he wouldn’t laugh, and shot Cami a look.

“What’s wrong?” she called over, sounding really guilty even as she tried to scowl me into submission. “Mom said it was fine.”

No way in hell had Georgine Joseph signed on to babysit the class rabbit during Christmas vacation.

“His name’s Otto. Isn’t that awesome? It spells the same backward or forward.” She was making conversation now, rambling.

“Don’t try and distract me,” I warned her, and mouthed the word liar just in case there was any doubt I knew the score.

She made a cutting motion with her right hand for me to zip it.

I crossed my arms, because I was not taking this crap from a six-year-old, and yes, I was, in fact, arguing with said six-year-old, but her mother would freak when she saw the rabbit.

Cami did me dirty then, because she darted across the room, stood right in front of Dawson, not me, quickly figuring out that he was the weak link, and hit him with the pleading Bambi eyes. It wasn’t fair.

“Aww, Chris,” he said, his eyes looking just as pleading as hers. I couldn’t possibly be expected to say no to both of them.

“We can drive you,” Mr. Amsel suggested. “It wouldn’t be any problem.”

“Oh yes, please,” Nicole said, taking hold of my wrist since my arms were crossed over my chest as I was figuring out what to do. “Really. It would be our pleasure.”

What was I supposed to say when everyone, even the adults, were so hopeful?

“Cami, where are your mother’s platters? She’ll murder us both if those don’t come home.”

“I already put them in a bag,” she announced, smiling big.

“Your mother is going to lose her mind,” I said under my breath.

“Not if you tell her it was your idea.”

I just shook my head.

I could not have carried the rabbit cage, the food, the bedding, and all of Cami’s gifts by myself. And really, the walk was nice, as was the conversation, but taking two flights of old, steep stairs down to the door that led outside toward another long schlep to the parking lot was not nearly as nice. But this was the reason I ran every morning and lifted weights three days a week, so my muscles would look good cording as I carried Otto. For his part, he sat there in his cage on the other side and just stared at me like he was planning something.

“He likes you,” Cami declared.

“He’s plotting my death, I can tell.”

“No he’s not. He likes you, I promise,” Prue seconded Cami. “Usually he tries to bite our fingers when we stick them through the spaces in the cage. How you’re carrying it, he should be trying to gnaw them off.”

This news was late in coming.

“Sometimes Mrs. G has to give him some drops to calm him down,” Prue informed me.

I glanced at Dawson, whose inelegant snort made me smile despite not wanting to encourage him. “Psycho rabbit,” he teased me under his breath. “Best watch yourself.”

“We could trade,” I offered.

“No, I like watching you carry stuff,” he said, and the way he looked at me made my face heat. I couldn’t help it; it was a lusty, filthy, flirty look I was on the receiving end of. My mouth went dry.

“Stop,” I warned him. “You’ll make me trip.”

“We don’t want that,” he teased, insufferably pleased with himself. “Watch your step,” he reminded me.

“Call me Luke,” Mr. Amsel announced suddenly. “I just realized I never told you my first name.”

“Like he needs it,” Dawson muttered.

“Pardon me?” Luke asked.

“Nothing,” Dawson answered with a fake smile before shooting me a look.

“Stop,” I ordered.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“So what are your plans for the holidays?” Nicole asked Cami as we made our way to the parking lot with many other people carrying the same things we were save for the class pet.

“On Christmas morning, me and Mama open our gifts together, just the two of us, and then we get ready and drive to my granma’s house. Our whole family meets there, and my aunt Danita always says it’s a zoo.”

Nicole chuckled. “It sounds lovely.”

“Now, on Christmas Eve,” Cami began, walking right beside me, “we have a party at the place where my mom, my uncle Chris, my aunt Darcy, my aunt Xola, and Conner all work. It’s really fun, and we eat all kinds of junk that makes my mama crazy because she’s a chef.”

“Is she?” Nicole asked, glancing over her shoulder at the little girl.

Cami nodded. “Yeah. And then, after we eat all the really bad stuff, they all sit around in a circle and give each other elephants. I don’t really get the whole elephant thing, but they’re old, and I guess they all like them.”

“Old?” Luke asked me.

“To her, yeah.”

“Wait now,” Nicole said suddenly, stopping and turning to me. “Darcy and Xola?”

I nodded.

“You work at La Belle Vie?”

“I own La Belle Vie.”

“You do not.”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

She turned to her husband, looking both happy and surprised.

“This is serendipitous,” he said, smiling, but his gaze, for whatever reason, felt a bit odd. I wasn’t stupid and the way he looked me up and down was more than friendly. And though normally I had no problem with a gorgeous man checking me out, the fact that he was married was a nonstarter.

“How so?” I asked him as Nicole thankfully began walking again. The cage was not light, but more importantly, it was awkward, so my grip was not as easy as it would have normally been if I were carrying uniform-sized boxes.

“Nicole is not only a food blogger, but she writes articles for Food & Wine as well.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And everyone is buzzing about your inventive bartenders and your wonderful chef,” she said, giving Cami a smile. “I’ve eaten at La Belle Vie, and your mother is amazing.”

Cami’s entire face lit up. “Thank you.”

Nicole turned to me. “I loved everything I had there, and my friends and I were going to stay longer, but then suddenly a harmonica player took the stage and?—”

“No.” Dawson snorted out a laugh.

“I understand,” I assured her, having blocked August Rollins, Augie, from my memory. He had been our entertainment after the terrible brass band I’d hired for a night and before the metal one. “So you were in not too long ago.”

“That’s correct. And may I say, Xola was behind the bar that day, and she made me the most perfect mojito I’ve ever had in my life.”

“She would be thrilled to hear it.”

“I was planning to come and speak to you—well, the owner, who I now know is you—about a story I want to do. Is that something you might consider?”

“Of course. You would be focusing on Georgine’s food and Darcy’s and Xola’s spirits, right? Not my hunt for a house band.”

She chuckled. “You’re not considering the harmonica guy, are you?”

“No, ma’am,” I promised.

“Are you all right to talk about this in the car? Maybe make a schedule for when I can come in and speak to everyone?”

“Absolutely. But you should talk to the ladies themselves. That would be better.”

“Well, I wanted to speak to Cami’s mom anyway before I knew she was Georgine Joseph, so could I come in with you when we drop you off?”

“Certainly.”

Nicole was smiling at me. “I’m so glad we got to meet you today,” she gushed.

“Same goes for us,” Dawson replied for both him and me, “and you’ll be happy to know that Chris has actually taken care of his house band problem.”

“Oh?” Nicole was interested in hearing anything Dawson wanted to tell her.

“Dawson West and the Dregs will be playing there nightly.”

“Are you serious?” She was suddenly breathless.

“I’m thinking between the fantastic food and drinks and, let’s be honest, great music, La Belle Vie will be the place to be.”

“I would agree,” Nicole said, sounding a bit dazed.

“We’re all going to be great friends,” Luke proclaimed as we reached their vehicle, a Lincoln Navigator L in a lovely shade of dark silver. I was glad it was big enough to fit the cage and all of us. I was so done being the rabbit carrier.

“I dunno about that,” Dawson grumbled as he helped me slide the steel enclosure into the back of the SUV and then fill the trunk with gifts.

“Be nice, would you, please? An article about the club would be amazing.”

He shook his head. “Not to blow my own horn, but all you need is me and the band and you’re set, article or no.”

“Yeah, but I can’t count on you to stick around,” I said, walking around the car to the driver’s side back door. I opened it, but just as fast, Dawson banged it shut. “What’re you?—”

“Not leaving you,” he vowed, gaze locked with mine. “Never again.”

“You can’t say that for?—”

“I can,” he asserted. “It turns out, I have learned from my mistakes.”

It was neither the time nor the place to have this discussion, so I just stood there, waiting, until he opened the door and got in.

Nicole wanted me to sit up front, but I declined, getting in the seat between the girls in the very back, leaving Dawson alone right behind Luke and Nicole. Being the only adult with them, I was treated to Cami and Prue showing me some of the gifts they got from their friends at school and telling me what they each gave Mrs. Guidry.

“I got Mrs. G chocolate and cheese and fancy pears,” Prue told me, then looked at her mother. “She really loved her present when she opened it, Mom. Lots of kids got her gift cards and lotion and soap, but I did super good.”

“I’m so glad she liked it, love.”

Cami patted my arm, and I leaned over so she could whisper in my ear.

“Mrs. G told me to tell Mama that my gift was the best.”

“Oh yeah? What was it?” I whispered.

“It was a bottle I couldn’t drop and couldn’t show anybody,” she said gravely. “Mama put a big bow on it.”

And now I knew where the bottle Georgine had bought last week had gone. The Weller Antique 107 was for her daughter’s teacher. It was a very nice gift and would definitely make her holidays merrier. There was no doubt in my mind that Cami had won the gift-giving in Mrs. Guidry’s class.

Driving to the club took nearly twenty minutes, no surprise with the rush-hour traffic.

“So, Chris,” Luke began, glancing over at me, “if you’re not busy, we’d love to have you over for our holiday party next weekend.”

“We can’t be away from the club on Fridays and Saturdays,” Dawson chimed in. “Chris is supervising, and I’ll be on stage—oh, sorry. I just assumed you meant me too,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

I leaned forward and pinched his side, but he wasn’t paying attention to me, laser-focused on Luke.

“Yes of course,” Luke said quickly, sounding a bit flustered. “If you two can’t make something on the weekends, then we’ll have to set up a time to do something during the week. Nicole and I don’t want to lose track of such charming new friends.”

“Absolutely not,” she agreed. “And we will support you by coming to listen to your enthralling house band at every…every…”

“Love?” Luke asked, turning to his wife.

“Luke, I think that’s Cami’s mother right there waiting for us. I can’t wait to meet her.”

And Georgine was there, smiling as Luke pulled the car into the parking spot right in front of La Belle Vie.