Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,24
me to answer, and at this point, if I keep avoiding her, she’s going to figure out that this whole conversation bothers me and then there will be no rest for the wicked, a.k.a. me.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess.”
“If you really love somebody, you have to look at the things that are important to them through their eyes. You can’t look at it through your own. You can’t put your own judgments or your own history on it. You just have to accept it. If Lucky says goldfish are awesome, goldfish are awesome. Period.”
“What if the thing they love is bad for them?”
“You think a goldfish is bad for Lucky?”
I shake my head, memories of Charlie haunting my brain as usual. “No. The goldfish is fine, but you said that if somebody I love really likes something, I should just accept it and be good with it. What if it’s not a goldfish? What if it’s something bad?”
“That doesn’t count. When a friend is doing something that’s bad for them, that could really hurt them, you have to step in. You have to be a good friend. If you don’t, then you’re not really much of a friend at all, are you?”
I wonder if May realizes just how much each one of her statements is affecting me. It’s like she’s punching me in the gut with every sentence. Am I Lucky’s friend? Am I doing the right thing by him? I wish I knew the answers to those questions. He deserves to have good people in his life, people who look out for him. People who think his fish is awesome even when it isn’t.
“You should call him.” May nods, absolutely convinced that her advice is golden.
I, however, do not share that feeling. “No way. He doesn’t want to hear from me.”
“I don’t believe that.”
There’s a weird tone in her voice, so I pull over to the side of the road and look at her. “Why do you say that?” My heart is beating way too fast.
She smiles, looking very sneaky in the process. “I told you . . . Jenny and I have talked about this a lot, and she’s with Lucky all the time, so . . .” She shrugs, way too satisfied with herself.
My eyes narrow at her sly expression. If you’ve ever seen a sly expression on a marshmallow, you’d know why I’m suddenly distressed. “What did you do?”
She holds up her hands. “I didn’t do anything. It’s possible that Jenny may have made some inquiries or suggestions on your behalf, but I’m completely innocent.”
I’m shaking my head as I move the van forward into the flow of traffic. “You have got to be kidding me.” Equal measures of panic and exasperation fight to express themselves. I grit my teeth to keep both emotions at bay. My jaw starts to ache. Jenny the matchmaker strikes again.
May finally stops talking, which only gives my mind the space to go crazy. Paranoia fills me. What did Jenny say to Lucky? Is that why he was messing around with me at the bar? Does he think I’m into him?
I have twenty questions to ask May and her silly sister, but if I do that, it’ll just give them more fuel for their fire. Their matchmaker radar will start blaring and both of them will put all of their sticky, gooey, marshmallowy efforts into getting Lucky and me together. Lucky probably already figured out what they were doing and now he’s lying low, waiting for me to lose interest. God, how awful.
I say nothing about this fresh hell that’s just become the focus of my ire. I grind my teeth and squeeze the steering wheel as we pull into the Mid-City area, off Tulane Ave.
“You’d better go get your stuff,” I say to my partner in measured tones. “We’re getting close.”
“Okay. Cool.” May leaves the front seat and climbs into the back of the van. The banging around tells me she’s getting out her photography equipment.
“Am I just doing stills, or are we going to shoot some video, too?” she asks.
“Better be prepared for both.” Ozzie’s and Thibault’s instructions were pretty vague. I’m not sure what they expect us to come up with just driving around these neighborhoods, but my plan is to get the lay of the land, so I know the escape routes and the places where the different street thugs hang out during the day.
It’s always the case when the weather is decent, which it