The Satyr's Curse (The Satyr's Curse Series Book 1) (7 page)

“That’s easy. I would go back to the time before the chaos of the Civil War, when people lived quieter lives and all the land surrounding New Orleans was made up of opulent plantation homes, not subdivisions and apartment complexes. Back to a world where grace was a way of life, and not a word in the dictionary…to a time when a man could hear his own thoughts, and reflect on them. I don’t think we realize how noisy our world has become. I would revel in the quiet of that time.”

“What about the future?”

He shook his head. “I think the future is overrated.”

“How can seeing where we go be overrated? You wouldn’t want to live long enough to see what progress we make over the next hundred years, or two hundred years?”

Julian’s dark brown eyes grew a little colder. “Can you imagine the monotony of living that long? Think of the knowledge people who live to a hundred have. How they know human behavior so well because they have experienced so much of it. Life would hold no mystery if you lived as long as that. Passion would become extinct, because there would be no surprises left for you.”

Jazzmyn shrugged. “I never thought of it like that. But still, to see how technologically advanced we become would be fascinating.”

He stopped walking once more and turned to her. “Technology is a diversion, a simple sleight of hand that keeps you from seeing what really matters in life; people. If you were to outlive all of your friends, your time, your generation, and had to exist amid a world of strangers, it would be quite difficult, I assure you. There would be no one who knows you, no one to reminisce with, and no one to share a life with. Relationships would be made with every intention of leaving when it became heartfelt to spare you the eventual pain of heartbreak. You would wander among people who had no understanding of your plight because you would be the only one of your kind. Sunrises would lose their poignancy, and sunsets would only bring the agony of another lonely night. When eternity is within your grasp, the promise of forever becomes a curse and not a blessing.”

As Julian spoke, Jazzmyn’s heart filled with sorrow. His words captivated her, and she watched as the sadness in his eyes swelled into an unimaginable torture, as if his very soul were being ripped in two. She placed her hand on his cheek and scanned his eyes for some glimmer of happiness, but there was none. For the first time since they had met, Jazzmyn felt as if she were seeing the real Julian. Stripped bare of his charm and absolute confidence, he appeared to be a man who had suffered through some unbearable hell that had left an indelible mark on the essence of his being. The intensity of his desolation seemed to fill the air between them, making Jazzmyn long to relieve his suffering and take away all of his misery.

“You make it sound as if you have lived such a life, Julian. The pain in your eyes feels so real.”

He placed his hands about her round face and lowered his head to hers. The anguish in his eyes instantly turned to fire. “I am a tormented man, Jazzmyn. The only thing that can save me is a woman who understands and accepts all of me. I need to know that you will not run away when you have seen the darkness inside me.”

Suddenly, Jazzmyn was afraid. The ardor in his eyes and the heat from his body frightened her, but at the same time it excited her. She felt alive at that moment, as if she were teetering on the edge of a great chasm, about to go over, but fighting not to. Her heart raced, her body quivered, and her insides surged with an intense desire that she had never known before. She yearned to hand herself over to him completely, and that loss of control over her senses terrified her.

“I…I don’t understand, Julian. What are you asking me?”

“Tell me that there is a—”

The ringing of Jazzmyn’s cell phone from her purse broke the spell between them.

Julian let go of her face and smiled. “Ah, one of the many drawbacks of technology.”

Jazzmyn felt as if she had been thrown back into her body. She heard the catchy jazz tune being played by the street musicians on the corner, the buzz of the people around her, and the rumble of the traffic on the street. She stared in amazement, unsure how she had not heard all of that commotion prior to that moment. Grabbing at the clamoring cell phone in her purse, Jazzmyn bristled with annoyance at the intrusive noise surrounding her.

“Yeah,” she blurted into the cell phone.

“Jazz,” Kyle’s smooth voice came over the line. “How’s the date going?”

Jazzmyn sighed with relief at hearing a familiar voice on the other end of the phone. “Hey, Kyle,” she said, and then her curiosity began to take over. “Is everything all right?” she inquired, the apprehension apparent in her voice.

“Everything is fine…well, almost.”

“What is it?” she quickly asked.

“Did you order anymore of those salmon steaks for the tartar dish?”

Jazzmyn looked over to Julian, who was smirking at her.

“No, you said you wanted the fillets. There should be a box of them in the walk-in. Upper right hand shelf, next to the crawfish tails.”

“Even better,” Kyle responded, sounding unusually agreeable.

“That’s why you called?” 

“Yeah,” Kyle told her. “I just wanted to see how it was going with the wino. We’ve started a pool over here to see how long you can stay away from the restaurant. Pots up to over fifty bucks.”

“Are you kidding me?” She rolled her eyes as Julian looked on. “Kyle, don’t call me unless the health department shows up, there is a fire, or you happen to stab someone with a kitchen knife. Understood?”

Kyle laughed. “I guess that means you’re having a good time.”

“Good-bye, Kyle.” She hung up the cell phone and placed it back in her purse. “Sorry about that. He just needed to ask me something.”

“Kyle?” Julian queried, grinning at her.

She pulled at the strap of her purse. “I left him in charge at the restaurant.”

“Everything all right?”

“Fine,” she assured him.

“Did he really need to ask you something, or was he just curious about how our date was going?”

Jazzmyn tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “What are you, psychic?”

Julian’s melodic chuckle eased the tension in Jazzmyn’s body.

“I’m a man, Jazzmyn. I can guess how Kyle feels about you and I being together.” He started back down the sidewalk as Jazzmyn fell in step beside him. “Why don’t you tell me what is really going on with you and your chef?”

Jazzmyn nervously pulled her purse closer to her body. “Nothing is going on.”

“Forgive my directness, but I get the impression you two were lovers,” Julian declared as they walked along.

“Julian, I know how it looks, but….” Jazzmyn sighed and turned away, taking in the crowds around them. “It happened once, a while ago. We both got pretty hammered and one thing led to another.” She glanced back at Julian. “It was a mistake, but Kyle doesn’t see it that way.”

“That’s obvious. I take it he has been pestering you ever since to have more than a business relationship.”

“I never really paid attention to his behavior until you walked into the restaurant. Since then he has been erratic and his drinking has gotten a lot worse.”

Julian raised his dark eyebrows. “He drinks?”

Jazzmyn nodded. “He used to be the head chef at Commander’s Palace until he got drunk one night and took a swing at an unhappy customer. He was blackballed from every restaurant in the city. That was about the time my father found out he had pancreatic cancer. I had been running the restaurant when I approached Kyle to come and work for me. I figured he just needed a chance to get his life together. His innovative dishes turned The Sweet Note around and doubled our business overnight. It was the best decision I ever made.”

“But not without a price,” Julian reasoned.

“No, putting up with Kyle’s tantrums over the years has proven to be more than I could handle at times. When he is on, he’s an outstanding chef. But then there are nights when he has more Jack Daniels in him than sense, and I’ve got to be both a mother and a boss to him.”

“I can see why he fell in love with you,” Julian commented as he gazed through the windows of The Progresso Grocery.

“Why do you say that?” Jazzmyn watched his curly, black hair shine in the sunlight.

He turned to her. “You listened to him, mothered him, and became the friend he needed. He became dependent on you emotionally and has probably confused that dependence with love.”

Jazzmyn shook her head. “No, that’s not it. We’re friends, good friends, and I’ve been just as dependent on his friendship through the years as he has been on mine.”

Julian placed his arm about her shoulders. “Just promise me he will not come between us.”

“Us? How can there already be an us? It’s only our first date, Julian.”

Julian ducked against the building next to them, pulling her with him. He pressed her body into the cool brick and wrapped his arms about her, taking Jazzmyn off guard.

“We began the moment we met,” he whispered in her ear.

The heat of his breath against her cheek made Jazzmyn’s knees grow weak.

“You will find that it is all or none with me, Jazzmyn. I told you I do not play games and I meant that. I also don’t like to waste time second-guessing another’s intentions. You either want me or you don’t. You made up your mind about me the moment you first laid eyes on me. So what is it going to be, Jazzmyn?”

She struggled to keep her mind focused on his words as her body roared with sensations. It was as if she were riding through a surging river, being tossed about by the rapid white water. 

“What…what are you asking, Julian?” she mumbled, trying to avoid his probing eyes.

His lips grazed her cheek as he spoke. “Do you want me?”   

Jazzmyn’s eyes flew to his. Her palms became sweaty as her heart rose to her throat.

“Say it. Tell me what you are feeling right at this moment,” he insisted in his captivating voice.

Jazzmyn stood transfixed in his arms, unable to find the words. She did not understand what was happening to her. If any man had said such a thing to her in the past, she would have slapped his face and walked away. But Julian was different. With him there was an intensity Jazzmyn could not comprehend. Something about him compelled her to accept, and something deep inside her desperately wanted to say yes.

Slowly, she nodded her head, and Julian relaxed against her, seeming relieved by her reply.

“You have no idea how long I have waited for you. You are the answer to my prayers.” He released his arms from about her and backed away.

He stood before her, staring into her eyes and smiling with such innate regard that she could not help but smile back at him. The sound of a car horn from the street next to them jolted her back into the world. She gazed about, confused at how the man could distract her so completely from the loud city around her.

“Come,” Julian urged as he took her hand. “There is still a lot more to see.”

As they walked along Decatur Street heading toward Esplanade Avenue, Jazzmyn stared, mesmerized, at the man beside her.

Is this how love begins? Is this profound desire to be overwhelmed by another the beginning of such an emotion? Or is it something else, something that goes beyond love and into the realm of obsession?

Jazzmyn flung the gloomy thoughts from her mind. Whatever it was, it made her feel wonderful, and in the end that was all that mattered. She figured she deserved this. It was her turn to feel that invigorating rush of happiness in her bones. Jazzmyn was determined to savor the sensation before she got too old to notice, and too damn tired to care.  

***

They eventually made their way down Esplanade Avenue and took in the large mansions scattered on either side of the wide neutral ground. When they stopped before a tall, black wrought iron gate surrounded by high yellow plaster walls on the corner of Bourbon Street, Julian motioned to the structure.

“Finally, this is my home,” he proclaimed with a flourish of great pride.

Jazzmyn’s eyes explored beyond the black gate and across a small red-bricked courtyard to a wide, leaded glass front door. The thick plaster walls of the three-story mansion were painted yellow with white french windows interspersed along every floor. Wrapping around the second and third floor balconies were exquisitely detailed black wrought iron railings, reminiscent of the balconies seen around the Pontalba Apartments encircling Jackson Square. Above the entrance, a white shield was set into the plaster. On the shield, the image of a flute playing mythological half-man, half-goat was detailed in bas-relief.

“It was built in 1862 by my ancestor, Julian Philippe Devereau.”

Jazzmyn turned to him. “Julian?”

“There has been a Julian in every generation of my family since 1832. The heir to the property is always named Julian after my ancestor.”

Jazzmyn redirected her eyes to the house. “That must have been hard growing up in the shadow of a famous dead relative. My grandmother wanted to name me after a well-known Livaudais, but my father refused.”

“Who did she want to name you after?”

“Odette Aveline Livaudais,” Jazzmyn announced with a dramatic flair.