Bent not Broken (305 page)

My heart aches for his friend and rejoices at his kindness. “I’m so sorry about your friend. In many ways, I was fortunate that he didn’t take it farther. And, well, I did confide in someone—my mother—when I was a child, and she told me that it was a woman’s duty to see beyond male weakness.”

He blinks rapidly and leans his ear toward me as if he’d misheard me. “Excuse me?”

“Yes, could you imagine being a twelve-year-old child and being given that little gem of advice when someone has held you down and used you in that way?” My voice falters a little as I remember feeling so disgusting and so used and so distraught, yet my mother brushed it off like it was inconsequential.

My eyes had drifted closed, but they spring open with his gruff command. “Why are you still standing way over there? Come here,” he orders. My feet move without any prompting from my brain. I don’t stop until I’m completely enfolded by his warm, strong embrace. The few tears that escape are dried by the heat seeping through his shirt. After a few minutes, he releases his hold on me.

“Jesus, that woman is a piece of work. I’d always known she was…cold. But that’s just heartless. I’m sorry, Celeste.”

“Me too. But I think it actually feels good to have it out in the open. Maybe Chip and my father will quit with their interest in me and William becoming a couple.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely gonna happen. Don’t you worry about that, OK?”

My brow furrows a little at his reassurance because I don’t see how he can really stop it. My appreciation for him grows with his promise, however. “All right.”

“I don’t want to give you anything else to worry over, but we should probably discuss this now. Does Archer know the details of what happened?”

I blow out a relieved breath. “No, he only knows that William scared me and caused me to run into the table. Oh, and that I yelled at William in our front yard.”

“Thank God for small blessings, right?”

“Yes, those were my sentiments exactly.”

He laughs suddenly. Again, I wonder how he is able to find humor in almost every situation. “I’m hoping one good thing will come out of this.”

I wrinkle my brow. “Like what?”

“It would make my fucking year if you could verify this.” He pauses and his eyes dance with mischief. I want to keep him paused right here until I can get my fill of him, which would probably never happen. “Please tell me that the reason William is such an entitled asshole is because he has a little dick.”

I gasp. “Adrian!”

“What? Cel, come on,” he cajoles. He holds his fingers close together. “Does he have a tiny penis?”

“Oh my God, Adrian!” I take him in. His laughter. His humor. His ability to make me feel better, and I decide to make his effing day. “Yes, he has a small penis.”

“I knew it!” He punches his hand. “I knew that little bastard had penis envy!” I can’t help but join him in his laughter.

We’ve both subconsciously drifted toward the barn doors. “I guess we should get back to the festivities,” he says.

“Yeah, I guess so.” I reach out and grab his arm and give it a little squeeze. “Thank you for everything, Adrian.”

He looks out over the yard for a moment, and I wonder where he’s gone. When he suddenly turns toward me, I see a look he’s never given me before; but I can’t put a name on it. “Babe, anything for you.” And before I can respond, he’s gone.

I turn and lean back on the barn door. My hand finds its way over my heart and I massage it as I realize his words and his actions over these past couple of years have found a way to weave their way into my heart, creating a cocoon of knitting that has pulled tighter with each endearment, each look, each action. Sometimes it pulled painfully. Sometimes it pulled delightfully. Most of the time it was a mixture of the two—making the cocoon a bittersweet thing because his protection and his comfort were things I could never really have.

Ten

And That’s My Final Decision

I REACH THE landing and throw my hands out to hold myself up while I pretend like I am stretching. The truth of the matter is, I am completely winded since I haven’t been able to run or really do anything strenuous in a couple of weeks. My shins are already protesting even without the smaller version of the eggplant bruise I’m sporting. I lean out and deeply inhale the pungent smell of the mighty Mississippi. I absolutely love running along the riverfront. The sites, the sounds, the weirdoes…it’s home, it’s comforting. As if on cue, a sax player starts up his sad tale of misery and woe. Popping out my one ear bud, I enjoy his song for a moment.

I stretch a little more and decide to continue my normal route even though I am in pain. I have to exercise since I love to eat. A fast walk was going to have to suffice, however. Unzipping my iPod case, I grab a dollar and toss it into the open saxophone case. The player gives me a slight nod of thanks. As I leave hearing range of his beautiful tune, I put my ear bud back in and crank up my T.I. Usually, he works wonders on ridding me of my troubling thoughts, but today seems to be the exception. I keep replaying Bradford’s comments about Adrian, and it’s driving me insane.

Our conversation had started out innocuously enough, he asked about the incident, of course. I tried to downplay it as much as possible, and then he wanted to know about our family dynamic in general. It seems he got a pretty clear picture of how things worked in my family. Bradford wondered aloud why I wouldn’t take legal measures against William, but I assured him that my family would deal with him as they saw fit. And I was fine with that. Talking about them and how they treat me and each other wasn’t what made our conversation uncomfortable, though. It was black and white to me and crystal clear where I stood within the fold of my family. When he brought up Adrian, that’s when the conversation turned murky and became quite awkward. I still wasn’t sure what to do with it.

When I finished explaining Adrian’s role in our lives, Bradford surprised me by saying outright what I knew deep in my heart and what Bonnie knew and had a hard time keeping quiet. “You and Adrian have feelings for each other.” Simply said, complexly explained.

I spat and sputtered a bit before confessing, “Yes, we do. We’ve gotten close since Tripp passed. He’s become my best friend.”

Sounding thoughtful, Bradford’s voice turned raspy when he said, “It’s more than friendship for Adrian. I saw the way he acted toward you and looked at you. You don’t look at a friend like that.” He cleared his throat a little. “Anyway, I can get beyond his feelings. What I need to know, though, is if it is more than friendship for you?”

Of course it was more than friendship for me, but there wasn’t squat I could do about it. I wanted to be honest with Bradford. I really did, but it was just too painful. So I sucked it up and boldfaced lied. “I’ll only ever see him as Tripp’s little cousin. We are close but only through friendship.”

He’d seemed satisfied with my response. I guess I did have a bit of my mother in me after all. I figured my lie was for a good cause, though. I liked Bradford enough to try to explore a relationship, and I could never have Adrian. Now if only the rest of my being would accept that.

Making my way past the French Market, which never fails to remind me of my great-grandfather making his living as an immigrant here, and over to Esplanade, I end up sprinting across Decatur because I’m not really paying attention to where I’m going. As soon as I get to the other side, I look back to see how close I had come to becoming road kill. When I turn back, I’m staring at a wall made of hard lines and a black suit. Glancing up, I am greeted by a pockmarked and somber face.

“Umm…excuse me,” I mumble. I try to move around him but he grasps my elbow.
What the hell?
There are people everywhere. What is he doing?

“Ms. Hebert.” He’s not asking. He’s telling.

Reaching up, I pop out my ear bud. “Umm…yes?” My voice is shaky even to my own ears.

“I’m a friend of your late husband. You mind if we talk in my car for a moment.”

My chuckle surprises me. It’s loud and cackling. “I don’t think so, Mr…”

“My name remains mine to know until you need to know,” he states. “When you need to know, it’ll be because you’re in trouble.” I shiver at his words despite my desire to be tough. He releases a deep sigh and glances around before he says, “If it helps, Tripp told me to tell you ‘cream cheese and salsa with Triscuits and many late night runs to get them.’”

“Oh…” No one and I mean no one knew about this otherwise disgusting craving I’d had with all three of the boys. I didn’t even tell Bonnie. I knew she’d never let me live it down. “OK.”

He guides me over to his Town Car, makes me slide across the back seat, and then gets in behind me. “I’m going to keep this short and to the point. I’m not here to upset you, however, your late husband made provisions for you beyond the financial. I’m an ‘associate’ of his and I was tasked with keeping an eye on you and certain individuals in your life.” I simply nod. “It seems some people in your life don’t have your best intentions in mind, Ms. Hebert. Your husband was well aware of this and gave me some vital information that could cripple these individuals if they choose to try to harm you or your children in any way. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

Again, all I can do is nod my understanding. “Excellent. I’m not here to give you that information just yet. From where I sit, things look warm but not boiling. I don’t want to risk your getting too close to that fire, mind you. So I wanted to give you this.” He pulls out a black business card. Only it’s not really a business card. Just a single phone number printed in white with the initials OG below it. “Now, when you feel yourself too close to that flame, you’ll give me a call immediately, won’t you?”

I don’t answer either way. Instead I ask, “Tripp asked you to look out for me, so you’ve been watching me for almost two years?” I’m a little amazed by this news.

“Not really, no. More like watching those around you to make certain moves. These moves have been discussed with growing frequency the last few months, but it seems as though there has been some reluctance in going forth. Regardless, if you feel any more pressure from your family, you are to contact me as per your husband’s request. The one thing they seem dead set against is your association with one Mr. Adrian Hebert. It seems they’ve got something on him as well and are prepared to use it should he become problematic.”

I nod my head again and thank him as my head reels with all of the information he just gave me. Something on Adrian? What could they possibly have on Adrian? He gets back out of the car and motions for me to follow. As one of my feet hits the pavement, his parting comment causes me to look up briefly, “You’re well aware of who you’re up against should they decide to push matters along, aren’t you, Ms. Hebert?”

My grim smile is probably quite telling but I assure him, “Yes, I certainly am. Thank you again.”

Dazed, I begin to make the trek back home. Only I’m completely robbed of energy and stunned beyond belief. Why that is, I couldn’t say. I know what they are and what they are capable of. I knew that Tripp knew. I didn’t know that Tripp wanted to protect me from that so badly. This causes me to smile briefly. I’d always felt so alone in my large, boisterous family, but lately, that had completely changed. When I finally hit St. Charles, I decide taking the streetcar back home is an excellent idea. At the rate I’m going, I won’t make it home in time to get ready for the show tonight. Typically, riding the streetcar is one of my favorite things in the world. Today, however, I barely notice all that is going on around me as I ponder just exactly how close to igniting I should let myself get.

****

“YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL,” Bradford tells me upon picking me up. I’d let him pick me up at the house but only because the boys weren’t home. I look down and grimace a bit at my outfit. I hated wearing long pants to a concert. New Orleans was sweltering enough without additional clothing weighing you down. But I have to admit this outfit is gorgeous, and the side slits running up the legs will allow for some airflow. The blood-red genie pants could either be worn as smocked pants or pulled up and worn as both a top and pants, exposing my shoulders. I’d opted for that look, thrown my hair into a French twist, and paired it with my Louboutin leopard heels and lots and lots of gold “jingly” jewelry as Finn called it.

I glance up and get lost in Bradford’s look of sincerity for a moment. “Thank you. Would you like me to show you around before we go?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

I lead him through the living parts of the house and avoid the bedrooms. When I show him my office, he gets really interested. My heart expands and glows from within. “Celeste,” he says as he fingers my sketches tacked all over the board, “you are really talented. These are amazing. And your whole house is just beautiful. I don’t know much about design, but yours has a homey feeling, yet it’s aesthetically pleasing as well. If that makes any sense.”

I laugh and tell him, “It makes perfect sense because that’s exactly what I was going for.”

As I lead him back out and to the main part of the house, he continues, “You seriously need to look into how to get started with your own designs. Those few that I saw are inspired. Really.”

Could this guy get any more perfect? I beam. “Thank you so much. That means a lot to me.”

****

WHEN WE ARRIVE at the House of Blues, we meet up with practically everyone I know. We are that excited about our guys, our homegrown heroes hitting it big time. Bradford fits right in with everyone. He’d met most of them before. Even Louis and a friend have joined us. I happen to know Louis hasn’t gone out in forever—being a junior associate certainly puts a damper on your social life. It’s so good to see him loosen up.

After taking a sip of my mojito, I grab Louis’s arm and drag him to the dance floor. “So who’s your friend, honey?”

“Oh, yeah, just an associate at Teller and Brooks.”

“He seems nice and funny too.” I bite my lip a little as Louis throws a look over his shoulder at Lance.