She wasn’t so sure Hal would really come, though, because Brad had wisely decided to keep the level of his canned music down. It might be one of the only places on Bourbon where people could actually hear each other talk.
There was more of a crowd listening to Vinnie tonight, but even so, Mason spotted an empty table toward the front. As she started to weave her way through the dancers and the other tables, she looked up to see Vinnie staring at her. He offered her a huge smile, and she was glad that Mason had guilted her into coming, despite the strangeness of her day.
Besides, she was probably just imagining things. She was overtired, and her mind was playing tricks.
That was absolutely it, she decided.
She smiled back at Vinnie and waved, then sat down and leaned back to enjoy the band. Mason arrived a minute later—carrying another three beers. All the bars seemed to be using the same early evening come-on.
“I can’t drink three more beers,” she told Mason.
He raised his voice to be heard above the music.
“You said you couldn’t drink the first three, either.”
True. She lifted one of the bottles to him in a toast. “Thanks for making me come out tonight.”
“My pleasure. I like hanging out here. I do it a lot.”
“Too much alcohol,” she said sternly.
“Yes, Miss Prim. Although I’ve been known to have three sodas for the price of one, you know,” he said in mock indignation.
“Not tonight.”
“Hell, no, not tonight. Tonight I’m trying to keep pace with you.”
She made a face at him. Just then a waitress came by, and Mason took it into his head to order a large plate of chicken wings and a large order of fries. The food seemed to help some with the tipsiness, she decided, once it arrived.
As she nibbled on a chicken wing, she noticed an older black man who was one of the place’s regulars. He noticed her, too, and smiled and lifted a hand, then turned his attention back to the band.
One day, she decided, when she hadn’t been drinking so much, she was going to introduce herself to the guy, seeing as she saw him so often. She loved New Orleans because it was home to such a mix of people, and he was a part of that mix. Black, white and maybe something else. Asian? Indian? She wasn’t certain.
The group took a break then, and Vinnie came over and sat down at their table. “Hey, you—you ran out on me last night,” he told Kendall, but he was smiling to take the sting out of the accusation.
“I’m sorry, Vinnie. But I’m here now.” She grinned at him.
Vinnie looked at Mason. “She’s tipsy,” he said, amazed.
“I know,” Mason said, laughing.
“‘She’ is not tipsy,” Kendall protested.
“The place seems to be doing a pretty good business,” Mason said, “especially for this early in the week.”
“Yeah,” Vinnie agreed. “We lucked out and got some free PR. This guy Jeremy Flynn—one of those guys who inherited that plantation of yours, Kendall—has been talking us up when he pushes that charity bash he’s planning.”
“It was never my plantation, Vinnie,” Kendall objected.
“Whatever.” He waved away her objection. “He’s sitting in when we come back from our break.”
“If he’s playing, how am I going to hear the new song?” Kendall asked. Her good mood was evaporating. She didn’t know why. Jeremy Flynn hadn’t done anything to her. His older brother was the one she didn’t like. Didn’t want to like, a small voice whispered inside her.
All of a sudden, she felt uncomfortable. She looked around, trying to figure out what could be upsetting her, but the clientele hadn’t changed all that much from the night before. There was a group of businessmen, their ties loosened, to the far right. She was pretty sure she had actually seen one or two of them the night before. Hal had come in, as he had promised, and was hanging out in the back with the other two cops he’d been with earlier. There was a man she vaguely recognized sitting alone at a table to her left.
And then the brothers Flynn arrived.
Vinnie saw them, too. “There they are,” he said cheerfully and waved at them.
“We’ve only got one extra seat,” Kendall quickly pointed out, shocked by how strongly she wanted Aidan Flynn to stay away.
“That’s okay,” Vinnie said. “I’m getting up, and Jeremy is playing with us.”
He rose and walked through the crowd to greet them, then led Jeremy with him toward the stage after pointing to the table where Mason and Kendall were sitting.
“Oh,” she moaned, sinking into her chair.
“What’s the matter with you?” Mason asked, perplexed.
“Nothing.”
Zachary and Aidan came and sat down, and their waitress—a pretty girl in a skimpy outfit that showed off her ample cleavage—came hurrying over. The newcomers ordered beers, six of them, which quickly materialized.
Her first beer gone, Kendall reached for a second.
Aidan Flynn, deep eyes as probing as ever, leaned toward her. “I hear we’re here tonight because of you,” he told her.
“Me?”