More Than He Can Handle (10 page)

“When I needed to hug you, you were nowhere to be found,” Freddie snapped.

Folding his arms across his chest, Jacques rocked on his heels and sighed. “There was a reason for all of that and . . . Is that man really your husband? How do you know he isn't like the other guy and is trying to catch me for the money?”

Freddie shook her head. “Don't you dare try and change the subject,” she said. “Don't worry about who he is. You owe me some answers.”

“We can't talk out here,” he said. “Someone might hear us.”

“But that lady knows who you are,” Freddie whispered. “How do you know that you can trust her?”

“She's family,” Jacques replied as he pulled a scrap of paper and a pen from the pocket of his overalls. “This is where I'm staying. We usually get back there around six. Come alone. I don't trust that guy. He looks shifty.”

“I can't help that I'm attracted to shifty men, look at who my father is.”

Jacques leaned in and kissed Freddie on the cheek. “Let me walk you to your car, unless you are really here to work. I mean, we need all the help that we can get.”

“No, I have my own rebuilding to worry about. I'll drop Cleveland off at the hotel and then come back. Will you still be there around seven?”

“I'll wait for you,” he said. “That's the least that I can do. And I promise I'm going to answer all of your questions.” When they got to the car, a slow smile spread across Jacques' face. “I see you kept her in good condition.” He ran his hand across the fender.

“It's the only thing of yours that Mom didn't get rid of,” she said as she slipped inside the car. Cleveland was already behind the wheel.

“And you let him drive?” Jacques said through clenched teeth. “This is a Babineaux baby.”

“Then I guess that explains why you abandoned it,” she snapped, her voice filled with attitude.

“If you feel this way about me, then why did you go through all this trouble to find me?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Because I want to know why you . . . Let's just talk about this later.”

“Fine,” he said as he leaned in to kiss Freddie on the cheek. She turned her head quickly.

“Let's go,” Freddie said to Cleveland as she closed the door.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you for coming here with me, I appreciate it.”

Cleveland glanced at her as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Well, I'm glad that I could help, but you and your father didn't look as if you all had resolved anything.”

“Look, your concern is touching, but misplaced,” she said as she leaned back in the seat.

“So, I'm supposed to act like I don't care after coming all this way with you?”

Freddie closed her eyes and didn't answer. The sooner that they got back to New Orleans, the sooner she could get rid of Cleveland and get back down to Pass Christian and talk to Jacques.

“Freddie,” he pressed.

“What?”

“Are you going to tell me what happened with you and your father?” he asked, cutting his eye at her.

“There's nothing that you need to worry about,” she said. “We're going to talk later, especially since I know where he is.”

“He didn't seem too happy to see me behind the wheel.”

Freddie sighed, “That's because he doesn't really trust a lot of people. Especially after what happened with the last person who tried to help me find him.”

“Oh, I hope I didn't make things worse,” he said, his voice filled with concern.

“No, you didn't, but I really wish that you'd just drive and be quiet,” she said. “I'm sorry, you've done nothing but help me and I'm being rude.”

Cleveland chuckled, “I wasn't going to say anything, but you are.”

Freddie ran her hand over her hair. “Let me make it up to you, I'll buy you lunch when we get back to town. I know a great restaurant off the beaten path where we can get some gumbo and crawfish.”

“Well this I can't believe, Winfred Barker eating humble pie,” Cleveland said as he turned on to the Interstate.

Once they made it back to New Orleans, Freddie directed Cleveland to a restaurant near the lower Ninth Ward. It was one of the few businesses that came back after the hurricane. Smiling as they pulled into the parking lot, Freddie remembered coming here with her mother and father when she was about four years old. It was one of the only fond memories that she had of her family.

Once upon a time, they had been happy. Though it was a long time ago and much of it was a hazy memory. Just like the day her father disappeared. It was just like the clichéd tale of a dad going out for a pack of cigarettes and never coming back. Freddie had heard the rumblings about her father as she was growing up. Things had gotten so bad that by the time she was going to elementary school, she had a new last name.

The only thing her mother would say about her father was that he was in prison where he belonged.

“You're quiet again,” Cleveland said as he parked the car in the gravel lot.

She smiled, “I guess I'm tired. It's been a long day.”

“And seeing your father was a shock, huh?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Can we not talk about him, though?” Freddie said as she stepped out of the car.

Cleveland nodded as he looked around at their surroundings. “Wow,” he whispered, “I guess Mardi Gras didn't make it down here?” There were still piles of storm debris on the side of the road. A few buildings were gutted and in need of repair. The marks were still on the walls detailing if bodies were found in the houses. It was a different look from the revelry going on in the French Quarter.

“It's a shock, isn't it,” she said.

“You'd think this place would be rebuilt by now.”

“It would be if the people that lived here weren't black and poor,” Freddie said bitterly. Glancing down at her watch, Freddie noticed that she and Cleveland weren't going to be able to have a leisurely meal because she had to get back to see her father. “We'd better get inside. I have to get back to the hotel and check on everything that's going on.”

He nodded and headed toward the door. “You were right about this place, it is off the beaten path.” Cleveland opened the door and held it for Freddie.

“And they have the best food,” she said as they walked into the greasy spoon. In a way, it reminded Cleveland of some of the restaurants in Five Points or Sweet Auburn.

There was no hostess to seat them and no pretentious crowd of buppies.

The couple took a seat near the window. Cleveland looked out over the neighborhood and saw no signs of life, no signs of renewal or rebuilding.

“Wow,” he mumbled.

“What?” Freddie asked.

“It's just the fact that there's nothing going on out there. No bulldozers moving, no signs of life. It's just bleak; this can't be America.”

Freddie stared out the window. “You know, since the storm, I hate cloudy and rainy days.” They both looked up at the sky simultaneously. The sun shined brightly, but from the look in Freddie's eyes, Cleveland knew a different kind of storm was brewing.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” Freddie said quickly. “I'm just hungry and tired. It's been a long day already.”

“You can relax when you get back to the hotel, right?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

She sighed. “Not really, I'm sure there's some crisis there. That's just how things work during Mardi Gras.” Nervously, she toyed with her ponytail.

“Don't you think you've done enough today?”

She shook her head and dropped her hands on the table. “Cleveland, I appreciate your concern, but you're wasting it. I've been taking care of myself for a long time and I don't need you to look after me.”

Cleveland placed his hand on top of Freddie's. “I don't doubt that. But does it hurt to have someone watch over you?”

Slowly, she slipped her hand from underneath his. “Let's order so that I can get back to the hotel.”

Leaning back in his seat, Cleveland studied Freddie as she glanced over the greasy menu. A smarter man would cut his losses. He'd gotten a chance to taste her, feel her wetness, and she made it clear that the only thing she wanted from him was sex. He should've been fine with that, because that's how he normally dealt with women. Nothing serious, no entanglements that would last longer than he wanted. But Freddie was different. She was the gazelle and he was the lion.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked as she peered over the menu.

Before he could answer, an older woman walked over to the table to take their orders. They both settled on the crawfish special and iced tea. When the waitress left, Cleveland folded his arms across his broad chest and looked at Freddie. She met his smoldering gaze.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You tell me,” he said. “I get the feeling that you want to get rid of me because you've gotten all that you want from me.”

“I don't want or need anything from you. See, this is why I didn't want you to help me. Do you think I owe you something now?”

He shook his head. “Not at all, Freddie.”

She rolled her eyes and watched the waitress walk over to the table with a basket of hot water cornbread. “Why don't we eat and then go our separate ways? Your visit is almost over and you haven't had a chance to experience New Orleans. I sucked you into my drama and . . .”

“And we had a great time in your suite and you know that we have something between us. A fire. It's been building since Lillian's wedding. I'm game to see where it leads, but you . . .”

“Don't want anything from you and there isn't anything between us. You really flatter yourself too much. The sex was good, but it wasn't earth-shattering,” she spat.

Shaking his head, Cleveland grinned. “You keep saying things like that, but you know that if we weren't in this restaurant, you'd be all over me.”

“But since we are in this restaurant, I'm not going to tell you what you're full of and where you can go.”

“What are you afraid of ?”

“Nothing,” she snapped. “And why are you pretending that we have some deep connection when all we've shared are a few orgasms? Just because you rode to Mississippi with me doesn't mean that we're going to be a couple or you're going to have some huge role in my life. You live in Atlanta.”

“I know where I live,” he said.

“Good. Remember that. When this week is over, you're going back to Atlanta and I'll be a distant memory.”

I'm never going to forget you,
Cleveland thought as he watched Freddie go through the motions of convincing herself that they meant nothing to each other. Cleveland knew they had a connection and he felt that she knew it too. Passion like what they shared couldn't be faked. “If you say so,” he finally said.

The waitress brought their entrees out and the duo ate in an awkward silence. After they finished eating, Cleveland stood up and smiled. “Are you ready to get back to your work now?” he asked.

“Yes, and thank you for taking this trip with me today,” Freddie said as she stood up and headed for the door. Cleveland took one more look at the bleak neighborhood around the restaurant. Something about New Orleans was calling him. Or maybe that something was just Freddie.

I'm truly losing my mind,
he thought as they got into the car.
My home is in Atlanta and she doesn't want me here. So when this week is over, I'm going home and back to my life.

Cleveland sat in the car, silently mulling over what he should say to Freddie, if anything.

She glanced over at him and smiled tersely. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Yeah, guess I'm tired too,” Cleveland said.

“Ruining your vacation, huh?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he didn't reply. Cleveland was tired of this dance with her. Tired of Freddie running hot and cold and the mystery surrounding her.

“I wouldn't say that,” he said.

“Then what's the problem? Because you did offer to . . .”

“I'm tired of watching you fight,” he said.

“Fight what? What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about you fighting what you really want.”

“And just what do you think I want?” Freddie asked.

“ Me.”

“You? Are you kidding me? I don't want . . . we're not going there again.”

Cleveland tugged at his locs and smiled. “Going where? Back to your bed? We both know that's the one place where you don't have a problem saying what you want. Then when you've reached your release you go back to denial.”

“What happened between us was a mistake and it won't happen again.”

“Denial.”

“I'm not denying anything. You live in Atlanta, your life is there and . . .”

“But the heat is here, burning between you and me like an inferno,” Cleveland said in a low voice, causing a throbbing between Freddie's legs.

“Whatever,” she snapped, hating the way her body responded to him. “It's Louisiana, there's always heat here.”

Cleveland ran his index finger across Freddie's thigh. She shivered inadvertently then swatted his hand away. “You're disgusting,” she said in a quiet tone.

“If you say so. But I'll make a deal with you,” Cleveland said. “If you will admit that you want me, then I'll give you everything you desire.”

“All I want from you is to be left alone,” Freddie said as she pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. “Get out of my car.”

“So, I'll see you later?” Cleveland joked as he got out of the car.

When Freddie walked into her office, she fell into her chair and closed her eyes tightly. She'd hoped that finding her father would answer her questions, but it left her with more unknowns. Picking up the phone, she called her mother in Houston.

“Hello?” said Loraine.

“Mom, how are you?” she said flatly.

“Where have you been, Winfred? It's Mardi Gras and your staff said you haven't been in all day. Is that how you're running my hotel?”

“Your hotel? When's the last time you did a day's work at your hotel? If you must know, I spent the day looking for my father and I found him.”

After a moment of total silence, Loraine said, “Are you determined to ruin your life? You are going to ruin everything that I spent my life building. Do you think there's a million-dollar bounty on Jacques' head because he's a nice guy?”

“Why don't you just tell me the truth? If you would've answered my questions a long time ago, I wouldn't be running around the Gulf Coast chasing a convict,” Freddie snapped.

Loraine released a heavy sigh. “There are some things that you're better off not knowing.”

“Damn it, Mother, I'm twenty-seven years old, stop treating me like I'm a damned baby.”

“I have to go.”

“You're not doing this to me, not this time,” Freddie said, feeling like the twelve-year-old who'd been asking when's Daddy coming home.

“Doing what? Protecting you from that man as I've done all of your life? The Babineaux name isn't held in high regard around here, in case you haven't noticed. I shielded you from that, made people forget that he was your father and he was a part of this hotel that you seem to be running into the ground. Stop worrying about that man when he doesn't give a damn about anything but himself.”

“Then I guess that's something the two of you have in common,” Freddie snapped. “You don't give a damn about me either.”

“How can you say that?” Loraine demanded. “You don't know what it was like. When your father . . . you know what, I'm not explaining anything to you and if you think that finding your father is some sort of prize, you will soon see that you are wrong.” Loraine slammed the phone down.

Freddie placed her phone in the cradle and closed her eyes tightly. What was her mother hiding? Was her father going to be any more forthcoming with answers and—The shrill ring of the telephone interrupted her thoughts. “What is it?” she snapped when she picked up the phone.

“Is that how you speak to your guests?” Cleveland asked.

“What do you want? I'm busy.”

“I was concerned about you,” he said. “Since you have so much work to do, I was wondering if you're going to have time for dinner.”

“No, I'm going to be working through the night and I thought we agreed to stay away from each other?”

“I'm not good at following directions, and I'm not going to spend the rest of my vacation ignoring you.”