blonde hair, youthful eyes, and decent curves. I’ve never personally thought of her that way, though, with her motherly charm.
“Not sure that’s a compliment, coming from a woman who holes herself up in this place. Think you need to get out more.”
“Ha!” The slightly younger secretary sitting beside her shakes her head. “Been tellin’ her that for years. Does she listen? Nope. E’ry time I invite the woman out for ladies’ night, she tells me she has paperwork to do. I organize the paperwork. I file the paperwork. And I know there ain’t that much paperwork to do.”
“Oh, please. Your idea of fun is … depraved, at best.” Perhaps it’s a mindless habit, the way Judith rests her hand over the cross at her throat.
“The bible does not say, thou shalt not go to a bar and talk to single men, Jude. Live a little. Or we’ll be admitting you to your own private room here, someday.” Stack of papers in hand, the secretary saunters off toward the copier machine over at the opposite wall.
“She’s right, you know.” Quirking a brow, I push off the counter. “A little bad can be good for the soul.”
Jude rolls her eyes and nods her head toward the room behind me. “How’s she doing today? Haven’t been in to see her yet.”
“Same as always. No better, no worse.”
“She appreciates this, Thierry. Don’t ever doubt that.” She’s the only person to whom I’ve given my real name. To everyone else in the place, including the nurse I occasionally fuck, I’m Mr. B, which stands for a completely different last name on the intake papers. “May not seem like it, but your presence makes a difference.”
“I’d like to think so.”
“Well, I know you’re a very busy man, so I won’t keep you.” The other thing I like about Jude: she doesn’t expect lengthy conversation out of me. Probably from working in a place where half the patients don’t talk much, or ramble on incoherently when they do. “Don’t you worry about your sister. She’s in good hands. Besides, taking care of her means we get to see that pretty face of yours, so I can assure you, she will not go neglected.”
“Thanks. You take care. And stay out of trouble.”
“Never,” she says.
“What’s the deal with Marcelle?” Kicked back in the office chair, I stare across my desk to Brie, the girl I hired to manage the day-to-day of Saints and Sinners.
Having just turned twenty-one, she’s a little on the young side for this kind of venue, but that’s what makes her perfect for the job. She doesn’t ask a lot of questions, and she gets shit done, which allows me to focus on bringing in new money, more money.
Unlike most times, when she answers like a robot, the girl shifts in her chair, clearly troubled by the question. “I don’t know, Mr. Bergeron.”
“Three times in two weeks, she’s called in sick. Do I need to replace her?”
“No. Please. We need the money. I’ll talk to her, okay?”
I don’t particularly like meddling in the affairs of siblings, but Marcelle is one of our best dancers, and her absences certainly haven’t gone unnoticed, particularly by her regulars. High paying regulars.
A bit older than Brie, she doesn’t quite have her shit together as much, with a son she raises by herself, and a drug problem that gets her in trouble with me from time to time. But she’s a damn good entertainer, with a specialty in acrobatics, and as I understand, she had aspirations for Vegas, at one time. I believe she could’ve made it, too, if not for some stupid decisions along the way. We attended the same high school as kids, albeit different crowds, so I can certainly attest to her change throughout the years. Back then, she was the quiet book nerd. I was captain of the football team. That life is so far from where I am now, though, I don’t much remember the details of it anymore. Nor do I care.
“Seems to be happening more frequently in recent months.”
“I know. Her son’s daddy just got released from prison. She’s been edgy. I mean, she’s been that way for almost ten years, since Mamere passed, but more so in the last couple months, like you said.”
I remember hearing about her grandmother’s death. Was all over the papers for a while, part of a murder case that swept through the parish. The Magnolia Lane Murder, they called it. She apparently worked in some capacity for a