Rough Draft: Big Easy (2 page)

“Would it hurt your feelings if I didn’t ask?”

She chuckled. “Oh ye of little faith. I think you might like my answer.”

He was sure it would be more of the same. He’d heard everything the past few months. There was nothing she could offer that would help. “Rissa—”

“And it won’t really matter if my advice doesn’t fix the problem because you’ll still win.”

Curiosity began to outweigh the self-assurance that told him nothing was going to help at this point. With that truth crashing down on his head, he realized he had nothing left to lose. “Okay. What’s your answer?”

She took an envelope out of her purse and slid it across the counter to him. “This.”

He opened the expensive linen envelope, pulling out an ornate piece of parchment paper, the words written there in embossed gold. Tucked inside the letter were two tickets. “A trip?”

“Read the letter.”

Jett scanned the details, his eyes widening.

Carissa was offering him an invitation to Eden?

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s two tickets to paradise. Do you want me to break out into song? It includes airfare, the hotel room, all your meals and drinks. You need to get the fuck out of here, Jett. Clear your head and let go of all this anxiety. Grab that woman you’re dating…” Carissa tapped her lips with one finger as if she were trying to remember something. “Dipshit…ditz…dingbat. God, what was her name again? Starts with a D.”

Jett grinned, perfectly aware of Carissa’s opinion of… “Darla. Her name is Darla.”

“That’s it. Tell her to pack a bag and the two of you can get the heck out of here for a while.”

“I can’t take this, Rissa. It’s too much. This must have cost you a fortune.”

She shook her head. “Didn’t cost me a dime. I won the tickets.”

“How?”

She pointed to the old radio on the shelf amidst the bottles of liquor. Whenever she manned the bar, she turned the TV off, opting to listen to music instead. “The bar phone rang last week. It was one of those radio station contests that basically said, ‘Give us the phrase that pays and you’ll win.’ It was actually the only radio station I listen to. So, I said ‘K92.5 keeps the music alive’ and the next thing I know, this envelope appeared in my mailbox. Pretty cool, huh? I’ve never won anything in my life.”

He pushed the envelope across the counter to her. “It’s your trip. I’ve heard you talk about Eden before. You said you’d love to go there and see it. Here’s your chance. Grab that delivery guy you like to hook up with every now and then.” He snapped his fingers as if thinking. “Um, jackass or jerk-off or something with a J.”

She laughed. “Joshua. And hell no. He’s okay for a one-night booty call when my vibrator’s not cutting it, but there’s no way we could keep that party going for a week. Our conversations begin and end with “You busy tonight” and “See you around sometime.”

“So take another guy.”

“And where am I supposed to conjure this fictional boyfriend from?”

He lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. Why don’t you invite a girlfriend?”

Carissa rolled her eyes. “Look at the fine print, Jett. It’s a romantic getaway. Oceanfront room with a Jacuzzi tub and king-sized bed, champagne and strawberries, the works. The room is called
The Lover’s Retreat
. Besides, I don’t really have any girlfriends. Sad as this may sound, you’re sort of my best friend.”

He feigned a wince. “Damn. Poor girl.”

“I know, right? My life sucks.”

He laughed at her teasing.

“Anyway,” she continued, “the tickets have to be used next week. I could never find anyone to run the Royal Lunch for a whole week on such short notice. If you don’t use them, they’ll go to waste.”

“I’d love to go to Eden, Rissa, but I’m afraid I’m sort of between lovers myself right now.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “Darla dumped me a few nights ago.”

“Oh. Is that why you’re getting drunk?”

“Good God, no. I’d been trying to figure out how to break things off with her. She saved me the trouble. So, you see, that Lover’s Retreat would be wasted on me too.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah.”

Carissa reached for his drink, taking another big swig. He didn’t bother telling her to get her own drink. She didn’t allow her employees to drink on the job, so she covertly hid her own alcohol consumption during work hours by taking sips from his. They’d been sharing drinks for years.

They sat in silence for a few minutes—neither seeking to fill the quiet with words. They simply passed the glass back and forth between them as Jett considered her generous offer. It was so like Carissa. On the surface, she appeared tough as nails, but once a person broke through the gruff exterior and earned her trust, there could be no better friend on the planet. He wasn’t surprised by her willingness to give away something she really wanted if she thought it would make him happy.

Once the third drink was consumed, she reached out and touched his hand. “I still think you should go. Treat it like a writer’s retreat. Get out of the city, clear your head of the bullshit and start filling it with those damn serial killers you seem to love to terrorize the rest of us avid readers with.”

It was a tempting offer. He’d read quite a bit about Eden over the past couple of years. Apparently an eccentric, reclusive billionaire had purchased the island, moved a castle there—brick by brick—from Ireland and set it up as a tropical paradise. Located off the coast of Florida, it attracted the wealthy, the famous and those—probably like him—who just wanted to get the hell away from the world for a while.

What Jett suspected Carissa didn’t realize was that Eden was also whispered about quite frequently in the BDSM community because of its well-known and popular dungeon, run by one of the most renowned masters in the world, Roan.

Jett’s older brother, Justin, had introduced him to the BDSM lifestyle several years earlier when Jett was researching the sadomasochist set for a novel he was writing. He’d interviewed several prominent Doms—Roan included—taken a few lessons in bondage, studied the psychology behind the sex, and realized his interest had become less about work, taking a much more personal turn.

He’d joined a private club and started putting his new knowledge to use. While he didn’t consider himself a lifestyle Dom, he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed “playing” with a sub, pushing a beautiful woman to her limits and sometimes beyond.

Justin’s writer’s block advice had actually involved Jett frequenting the club more often. His older brother was a firm believer in
sex cures all
. Justin had been a player for years, though recently he’d settled down with one woman, Bella, whom he shared with his best friend, Ned. Jett had wondered if Justin could make forever work in a committed ménage. So far, he had. Which thrilled the family because they all loved Bella and Ned.

“You could use the vacation as much as me, Rissa. When’s the last time you got out of New Orleans?”

Carissa shrugged. “Never.”

Jett frowned. “What?”

“I’ve never left New Orleans.”

Jett wasn’t sure how to respond. He and Carissa had been friends for years. How could he not have known this about her? “Seriously?”

She toyed with his glass, not bothering to look at him as she spoke. He got the impression she was embarrassed. “I’ve spent about ninety-nine percent of my life in this damn bar, Jett. It’s not like this dump has made my family or me rich. Plus it’s open from noon to four a.m. every single day of the week. That doesn’t leave much time to play tourist anywhere else.”

Her admission jelled with what he knew of Carissa’s upbringing. It had taken him years of hanging out in the bar to get her to open up about herself. She’d inherited the Royal Lunch from her workaholic father, who—like Jett’s own dad—had died of a massive heart attack while in his fifties. Carissa had shared that information with Jett when he’d been tying one on at the bar on the fifth anniversary of his father’s death. He still missed his dad intensely. Papa Lewis had been larger-than-life and he’d seemed invincible to Jett. His father’s passing had taught Jett a hard lesson about exactly how fleeting life was.

“You have to go to Eden, Rissa.”

She shook her head and he suddenly realized why she was hesitant. How intimidating would it be for a girl who’d never left New Orleans to get on a plane and take off to some island in the middle of nowhere on her own?

However, regardless of her unease, Jett wanted Carissa to have the opportunity to see more of the world. Since becoming a full-time author, Jett had done quite a bit of jet setting around the world, for conferences, speaking engagements and book signings.

She gave him a look that told him she wouldn’t be moved. “It’s not going to happen. So take the tickets or they’re going in the garbage. Even if I had someone to go with, I can’t close the bar for a week and I have no one here to leave in charge.”

Jett started to argue but Carissa’s gaze left his, drifting out the front window to the street. She winced.

He turned to see what she was looking at.

“Um…listen, I’m sorry about this, Jett, but you sort of left me no choice.”

There, waiting for the light to change so they could cross the street, was his family. All of them…plus the significant others.

He glanced at Carissa. “You ratted me out?”

“I
had
to. I was heading to your mother’s house when you showed up.”

“You were coming to Sunday dinner?”

Carissa nodded. “I called your mom to see if she thought you’d take the tickets. She loved the idea and then insisted I come to dinner to give them to you there. She said she’d make sure you didn’t refuse. Mama Lewis thinks this trip could be the answer to overcoming your writer’s block.”

Jett wondered briefly if he could make a break for it, escape the coming onslaught by high-tailing it out the back door. That idea was dashed when the bell above the front door rang and the loud sound of his entire family—all talking at once—destroyed the peace that had reigned in the bar just moments before.

He turned to face his mother as she walked directly to him.

“You missed dinner.”

He nodded. “I was going to call you later to explain.”

Mama lifted her hand and patted his cheek. She’d used that gesture of affection for as long as he could remember. “It’s time to turn the corner, son.” Mama looked over at Carissa. “You told him about the trip?”

Carissa nodded, her expression wavering between amusement over his mother’s arrival and guilt that she’d set him up for this. Jett narrowed his eyes, letting her know she wasn’t off the hook.

The rest of his family seemed content to let Carissa and Mama handle things. Setting the Lewis clan free in a bar was equivalent to ringing the last bell before summer break in high school. Chaos ensued as they all bellied up to the counter, ordering Bloody Marys and Hurricanes and asking Shawn to turn up the volume on the baseball game.

“So you’re going.”

It wasn’t a question. His mama had delivered an edict. Carissa snickered, fully aware there was only one person in the world he wouldn’t say no to, and that was his mother. Carissa had taken the decision to accept or refuse the trip out of his hands the moment she’d called Mama.

Then Jett spied a way to get his revenge. “I’ll go on one condition.”

“And what would that be?” Mama didn’t appear concerned. After all, there was pretty much nothing the woman couldn’t accomplish when she put her mind to it. She’d raised four children of her own as well as countless foster kids. She was a force to be reckoned with and most people had learned it was much easier to just say yes from the get-go. Saved them time since Mama Lewis would continue pressing until she got her way.

Jett smiled at Carissa. “Rissa goes with me. She won the trip and I wouldn’t feel right taking the tickets away from her. She’s always wanted to go to Eden. Think she called it a ‘dream trip’ once.” Jett continued to pile it on, making certain to cement Carissa’s fate with his mother. “Besides, she’s never taken a trip or even ventured out of New Orleans. This is an opportunity I can’t deny her.”

Mama turned to Carissa. “I think that’s a wonderful idea! So it’s all—”

“I can’t go, Jett. I told you that. I can’t afford to close the bar for a week and there’s no one to—”

“Hey, Noah. What are you doing next week?” Jett asked his younger foster brother, cutting Carissa off mid-refusal.

Noah shrugged. “Thought I’d bum around as long as Mama Lewis will let me, then try to find some summer work. My next semester at the Culinary Institute doesn’t start until September.”

“How would you like to start that summer work now? Run the Royal Lunch for Rissa next week.”

Noah rose from his stool at the bar and joined them. “Oh my God, man. Seriously? I’d love that!”

“Jett—” Carissa started.

“It’s the perfect solution,” Mama interjected. “Truth is Noah’s only been home a few days and he’s already driving me crazy. Plus, he’s an incredible cook, Carissa. This would give him the opportunity to try out some of his recipes with your customers. It could be a win-win for both of you. And if it works out, maybe you’ll consider keeping him on until he returns to school.”

Jett walked over to a sign she’d posted in the window and pulled it down. He flashed the words Help Wanted at her. “Kills two birds with one stone.”

Carissa closed her eyes, her expression proving she knew she’d been beaten. “Fine. Can you start tomorrow, Noah? The flight to Eden leaves next Saturday, so that will give me a week to show you the ropes around here and get you set up as far as the food orders and where to deposit the money.”

Noah grinned, clearly thrilled to have landed a job that would include cooking and a cool boss. “I won’t let you down, Carissa. I swear. I have a ton of ideas for some different po’ boys you could add to the menu. And a new recipe for etouffee that’s to die for. Might even try to pair some of your lunch specials with different drinks.”

Noah’s enthusiasm was infectious. Carissa laughed. “Okay, okay. That all sounds great. But keep in mind, this bar is pretty old school and known for its classic dive-like atmosphere. Don’t get too fancy and everything will be fine.”