came in one flavor. Asshole.”
“Well, yeah. But mais, he’s got a whole lot of other flavors going on, too.”
Brow kicked up, she leans against the kitchen sink with her arms crossed. “Elaborate.”
Around a mouthful of food, I chuckle, her words taking me back to the days when we’d sit in the oak tree. “You know what this reminds me of?” I ask. “When you used to go on and on about your crush on Robert Guidry. Remember that?”
“Absolutely not.”
Staring down at my plate, I twirl more pasta onto my fork, the humor fading away. “I do. After a while, though, I started to wonder if I dreamed you. Some imaginary friend of mine, like the ones I used to talk to in the cemetery.” Smiling, I keep twirling my fork. “I’d say your name sometimes, to see if maybe I could summon you out of my head. Never worked.” A snort escapes my nose, and I shake my head. “I missed my best friend.”
“Me, too.” Twisting around, she reaches for a glass of wine she must’ve poured before I arrived and the bottle. Brow quirked, she holds the bottle up in offering, and when I shake my head, she tops off her own glass before setting it back down. “Call it best friend intuition, but I have the distinct feeling you’re hidin’ somethin’ from me.”
Shoving another bite of food into my mouth gives me a second to contemplate whether, or not, I should say anything to her. There was a time I told Brie everything. Every secret. Every wish. Nothing was hidden between us. Could I trust her now? What does it matter at this point, given she knows who I really am? She could’ve had the cops here tonight, if she were so ambitious as to turn me over.
“I’m in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“The cartel is apparently after me.”
“For what?”
Shrugging, I shake my head. “They think I have something that belongs to them. I’m trying to lay low. And Thierry—” I hesitate to say anything more, not sure how much Brie knows of his involvement.
“I know,” she answers, as if she can hear my thoughts. “Julio comes to the club frequently. As do his associates. Marcelle had a run-in with one a couple months ago. After all the dancers and wait staff left that night, she realized she left her purse behind. Went back and saw two men carrying what she claimed was a body out the back door. Who knows, with all those drugs she’s on. Could’ve been anythin’, I guess. But …” Tracing her fingers over the rim of her wine glass, Brie shakes her head. “Be careful with him, Cely. That’s all I can do, is warn you. He’s wrapped up in some bad shit. Whether he wants to be, or not, it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to get tangled up in the cartel.”
“Seems I’m already tangled.”
“Tante Brie?” Dressed in Batman pajamas, Justin stands in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. “I had a nightmawe”
Huffing, Brie scratches the back of her head, and sets her wine glass back on the counter. “Okay, baby. Why don’t you go lie back down, and I’ll be there in a second to tuck you in.”
“I don’t wanna go back to bed. Da tataille is in dere.”
“Tataille?” I ask.
“It’s like … the boogeyman. Just something parents use to scare their kids into behaving. Justin,” Brie warns, shaking her head. “We’ve talked about this. There is no tataille, pistache.”
“But he was in my woom. He comed and talked to me. I don’t wanna go back in dere.”
“Tante Brie told you, baby. There is no tataille. I promise. It was only a dream.”
Curiosity gets the best of me, and without much thought, I interrupt. “What’s he look like, Justin?” I can feel Brie’s glare burning into me, but I ignore it.
“He had a scawey white mask.”
White mask. I school my features in front of Brie, hoping it’s just coincidence. “Did it look like an animal?”
“Yes. But not fuzzy. It was all boney wike a skeweton.”
Sickness gurgles in my stomach, and I set my fork down on the plate, catching Brie’s attention when she turns to me, frowning. “When did you see him?”
“Dust a few minutes ago. He was in my woom.”
When I finally exchange glances with Brie, I catch the frown creeping over her face.
Reaching down into my boot, I pull Russ’s knife and push up from my chair, eyes fixed on the hallway beyond Justin. “Go stand by your aunt, okay?”
With a