Infinityglass

Chapter 5

Hallie, One Week Later

“I told you, Dad. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“As I’ve explained several thousand times, you are a minor. You live under my roof. You need what I say you need.”

“He’s creepy.”

“How?”

“He looks at me.”

“He’s your bodyguard, Hallie. What’s he supposed to look at? He’s staying. I’m your father. What I say goes, and I’m done having this conversation.”

I stepped out of Dad’s office, slammed the door behind me, and turned my anger on the unreasonably hot yet still annoying bodyguard. “You”—I pointed a finger in his face—“are a complete pain in my ass.”

He blinked and looked terrified, which was comforting, considering I was the one he was supposed to be protecting.

“Stay at least ten feet away. And stop looking at me.”

I went through bodyguards the way insolent children went through nannies. It wasn’t that I hated them personally; it was just that I didn’t have anything else to do. It usually took me under a week to sneak out, lose their tail, and get them fired. This one chapped my ass more aggressively than most, because he was inside my house. Outside my room. Constantly around. Always watching. I expected today to be his last.

He followed me through the courtyard into the kitchen after my morning dance class, on my heels like a puppy at dinnertime, sealing his fate. I showered and went down to the kitchen in my robe. My shortest robe. Once I finished my yogurt, I scraped the bottom of the container for the last bite. He watched me walk to the trash can, step on the pedal, and dispose of the plastic.

“Oh.” I tapped the silver spoon against my bottom lip. “Should I recycle?”

The only response was the controlled stare I’d learned to expect.

“Okay, then.” I dropped my utensil in the sink and left the kitchen.

He was, of course, right behind me.

“Do you sleep?” I cast a glance over my shoulder. Pain in the ass or not, he was pretty to look at, with short black hair and a broad face. Gray green eyes with smile lines around them, though he couldn’t have been over twenty. Maybe not shredded, but strong. His body had presence. “I only ask because you’ve been here constantly. For three days. Don’t you ever need to eat? How about pee?”

His lips twitched and I thought I’d won a smile, but he cut it off before it could bloom. I made sure to put a little swing in my step when I turned around to go upstairs.

He sighed and followed.

At the top, I spun around and caught him off guard. He grabbed at the curved banister to keep his balance. “Tell me something,” I said. “Anything. I’ll even settle for your name.”

Stoic stance. No facial expression.

“Is my father paying you a crap ton of money not to talk or what?”

Now he focused on something behind me instead of me and leaned forward like he was ready to take another step.

I was all hands on hips, blocking his way. “Talk to me. About anything. The NFL? The NBA? Heck, the WWE?”

From the way his mouth shaped itself, I thought he could be biting the inside of his lower lip to keep from laughing.

“Have you been lobotomized?” I spoke slowly, with perfect enunciation, and mimicked sawing my own head open.

He gave his head a slight shake and stared at the floor. This time he couldn’t stop the smile.

Gotcha.

“Look at that,” I said. “Signs of intelligent life.”

Maybe his brain muscle was as well developed as the rest of them.

“Are you going to your room,” he asked, “or back downstairs?”

“He has a voice!” A deep one. “Wherever you’ll follow. That’s where.”

“I’m your bodyguard,” he said in a monotone. “I have to follow you.”

“To the ends of the earth.”

“Your room or back downstairs?” he repeated.

In one quick movement, I reached up and pulled off his earpiece. It slapped down against his chest. “Turn it off.”

He clicked a button, and the green indicator light switched to red.

“I’m staying right here. You’re going to talk to me,” I said.

The downstairs door slammed shut. We both jumped, and his whole body tensed.

“Hallie?” Dad barked out the question.

“I’m here.”

“Come down.” Most everything Paul Girard said was a demand.

I didn’t budge. “I just finished class, and I’m still in my robe.”

“There’s a guard with you?”

“Yeah. The new one who looks like a linebacker and stares at me while still managing to avoid direct eye contact.”

He made it now. His grayish green peepers locked on to mine. The potential of disapproval from my father made him respond more quickly than any of my feminine posturing. I’d have to remember that.

Dad answered after a few seconds of silence. “I’ll be waiting in the library.”

“Library. Right.”

Dad’s fancy Italian loafers slapped across the hardwood floor. The sound echoed up the stairwell.

Once it disappeared, I stared at the male specimen in front of me. “Talk, or I’m not moving. I’m going to stand here until my dad comes looking for me. When he does, I’m going to untie my robe and back away from you like we’ve been doing something inappropriate. And just so you know, there’s nothing under this silk but skin.”

His Adam’s apple convulsed in his throat.

“There’s only one thing you can do to make me go in my room, put on my clothes, and get my fine ass to Daddy’s office.”

Silence.

“Tell me your name.” I smiled. “That’s all. Just your name.”

The words came out so softly I couldn’t hear him. I leaned in close and he made a strangled noise.

“Repeat that, please?”

“Junior. Ta’ala. But everyone calls me Dune.”

“Where are you from, Dune?”

“I thought I only had to tell you my name.”

I pulled at the tie of my robe, loosening the knot. It had been way too long since I’d had someone to amuse me, and I planned on taking full advantage.

“Samoa,” he said in a rush.

I raised my eyebrows.

“Island in the South Pacific? Similar to Hawaii in landscape but less touristy?”

“I know where Samoa is,” I said. “So you’re Polynesian?”

“Afatasi. Half. My mom’s from New Zealand.”

“How did you end up here?”

“I needed a job, and I had to do something with … this.” He looked very confused as he gestured to his big body.

My smile was slightly predatory. I had some ideas about what he could do with it.

“Are we done?” he asked, regaining composure. “You need to get to your father’s library.”

“We’re done. For now.”

I let the robe fall off my shoulders, making sure Dune saw a good bit of back before I closed the door to my room. Call me hard up for entertainment, but getting him fired was going to be fun.

Dad wanted me downstairs only to tell me he’d be out for the evening, which was the equivalent of a dangling carrot. I wanted to play with the bodyguard, but cabin fever was getting to me.

It was nice to have options.

I dressed in a bustier and a pair of red leather pants, pulled my hair back in a slick ponytail, and then climbed down the side of my house, courtesy of the decorative pattern of horizontal bricks. I didn’t put on my stilettos until I was on the sidewalk, heading for the waiting cab. I plumped my lips on the ride over, gave the girls a little something extra, and changed my eye color to brown. I topped it off with a tiny, and definitely perky, button nose.

The cab dropped me at the corner of Bourbon and Saint Philip. I slipped into Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop.

Free. Breathing the air. Riding the rush.

I loved Lafitte’s because it was dark; the tourists always put on a good show, and I appreciated the colorful pirate history. Built in the 1720s, it was the oldest bar in the country. Jean Lafitte had buried treasure under the open fireplace, and on occasion, he’d been known to show up in the flames to give a red-eyed glare to scurvy knaves interested in his loot. I ordered a cherry lime mojito and took a table in the corner by the bar.

Once my drink arrived, I pulled out the plastic sword loaded with fruit and popped a cherry into my mouth.

I almost choked on it when my bodyguard pulled away my glass. He had on a white long-sleeved shirt, a chocolate brown vest, and an ivy cap. Surprisingly delicious.

“You can’t have that.”

“The hell, you say.” I tried to take the drink back, but he held it over my head. I couldn’t reach it, even in my heels. “I thought I gave you the slip. I’m kind of impressed. What’s your name again?”

“Dune.” He sniffed my glass before fishing out a sliced lime and ripping the fruit away from the peel with his teeth. “Virgin.”

“Says who?”

“I was talking about the drink.” He slid my glass back onto my table.

“I wasn’t.”

He looked up, and I fingered the neckline of my bustier to see where his eyes would go. They stayed on my face.

Hmm. Passed the douche test.

“No one carded me,” I said, “and I didn’t offer to show ID, so of course it doesn’t have alcohol. Bartenders are smart, especially in the Quarter.”

“Here’s an idea,” he said. “How about you bottoms up with your citrus Shirley Temple and I’ll take you back home?”

I sat back in my chair and took slow sips, studying him. He had a strong face, a wide jaw, and a bow-shaped upper lip. He smiled, because he realized I was staring at his mouth. I met his gaze.

His eyes were so damn sweet. There was no other word for it. His lashes were thick, and a scar sliced through his left eyebrow.

He was still smiling. Because I was still staring. I drained my drink. “I need another one.”

“You sure you don’t just want to grab a bottle of water at home?” he asked.

“Yessir.”

“You’re going to make this hard on me, aren’t you?”

“Most definitely.”

He reached for my glass and fished out the remaining cherry. “Here’s an idea.” He was smiling with his eyes again. “How about we negotiate?”

Dune

Chewing on the fruit gave me a second to gather my thoughts. I stared at her. “You look different.”

An obvious statement, which was why it had to be said.

Hallie raised her brows and sucked on the end of the plastic sword that had been in her drink. Her hair was as dark as usual, but her normally hazel irises were a deep brown. “Do I now?”

The changes were subtle, because her body was slim and tall like usual, but something was off. “Yeah.”

She smiled and leaned over to rest her elbows on the table. The angle and the bustier were doing a number on her cleavage. Her cleavage was doing a number on me—that was the difference. There wasn’t usually so much of it. I made a great show of not looking.

“Not one bodyguard has been able to catch me once I got into the Quarter. I’m offended—maybe impressed—that you’re here.”

“You run away a lot?”

“Every chance I get.”

“Why?”

“You’ve met my father.”

Tossing the plastic sword onto the table, she stood up straight, giving up the attempt to draw me in, and finally allowing me the opportunity to breathe normally.

“He’s not so bad.” I shifted on my stool.

“Are you kidding me?” The once-over she gave me could’ve been an X-ray. “If you’re in his corner, why haven’t you already started dragging me home?”

Because you’re lonely, and you aren’t alone right now.

Relief I hadn’t said it out loud made me a little light-headed. “I’m not a caveman. I don’t drag. And I was hoping, maybe, I could convince you to go back with me by asking nicely.”

“You aren’t going to threaten to tell my dad? That’s what they usually do: get all blustery and self-righteous and make a big point of how much trouble I’ll be in when I get home.” She shrugged. “But I never get in trouble, and they always do. You’re smart, Dune Ta’ala from Samoa.”

And just a few minutes ago, she’d acted like she couldn’t remember my name. “I need this job.”

She stepped closer and I caught the sparkles on her shoulders and neckline. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

“No. Maybe.” I needed her to move back. I needed to stay objective. I didn’t need to know that she smelled like buttercream frosting. “Yes.”

“So back to negotiations. Here’s the deal. You stay here with me for a little while, let me have some fun, and we can go back together.”

“I don’t—”

“Take or leave it.” She leaned forward again, so I stared at the ceiling.

I guessed I was taking it.

Hallie patted the seat beside her. I eyed it and remained standing, wondering if she sneaked some superglue onto the leather so she could make a quick escape.

“I really just want to take you home and get you to bed—”

“Keep walking into that innuendo. Really. I enjoy it.”

“Get you to bed before your dad gets home so I don’t get fired,” I finished, with a sigh. “Please, Miss Girard?”

She put up a hand. “Hallie, if you want to stay on my good side.”

“I’m deathly afraid of your bad side, Hallie.”

Her next move stole my breath. She slid off her stool and put her palms on my chest, ran her hands down my stomach, and hooked one finger inside the waistband of my pants. “Do you dance?”

“I …”

A second finger sneaked in. She pulled me closer.

“Um …” I tried to step away.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

I thought of her bare back, skin as smooth as velvet, and how she must taste. I wondered how she’d respond if I gave in. How far things would go before I caught myself and remembered why I came to New Orleans.

Best to remember why I was here right now.

“Home. I’m taking you home.”

“I could get you in a lot of trouble,” she threatened, trying to play me. Even though I preferred girls who were a little more low-key, if I’d been a normal guy without some higher purpose, I’d have let her play me all the way out. “You’re here. I’m here. Why can’t we have fun?”

“You know why,” I said.

“You aren’t going to give in, are you?”

I shook my head. She picked up her bag and started for the other side of the bar. “Where do—”

“The bathroom. To change.” She pointed to her red leather pants. “Did you want to help?”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to help.”

“Jean Lafitte likes to hang out in the ladies’.” She flashed a wide smile. “Pirates. They never disappoint. Especially when I pretend they all look like Johnny Depp.”

“Fine. Go change. Don’t sneak out a bathroom window.”

“I said I’d go home with you and I will.”

I had no reason to trust her, but she didn’t seem like a liar. A sneak, most definitely, but not a liar. “Forgive me if I have trouble taking you at your word.”

“There aren’t any windows in the bathroom.” She growled in frustration. “You can check, unless you’re afraid of pirates.”

“It’s not like you couldn’t go in and come out a completely different person.”

Her eyes narrowed and she sat back down. “What did you just say?”

“I mean, you have a proclivity for disguises. There’s the shoes. And the eyelashes. The brown contacts. The outfit.”

She shook her head. “Did my dad tell you anything about me?”

“All he said was that you had … an uncanny knack with appearances.”

“An uncanny knack?”

In the span of a second, her face morphed back to its original form, her eyes to their original hazel. I was so fascinated by the transformation that I didn’t react. Big mistake.

She spoke through her teeth. “Who the hell are you?”

“I …”

“I just transmutated.”

When I didn’t react, she huffed in frustration.

“Regenerated, shape-shifted, whatever. Point being, I changed my appearance, and you didn’t freak.” Now she leaned forward. “One more chance. Who. Are. You?”

The music stopped. There was one long beat of complete silence, and the dance music became a lively piano riff.

Behind Hallie, the aged wood of the walls lightened. Lafitte’s used gas lamps instead of electric, but now the scent of grease candles filled the air. The smoke from the wicks grew thicker, heavy in the air.

The building’s structure remained, but the furnishings became more rustic and newer at the same time. Subtle changes—lack of wear and tear on the floors and walls, the clothes people wore. The features of those living in the past blended with those in the present, and neither appeared to notice the other.

I felt as if I’d been on a merry-go-round for too long. I stood perfectly still while the world rushed by, and it left me unsettled.

“It doesn’t know what to pick,” Hallie murmured under her breath. “Past, present, never future. Eeny, meeny, miney, moe.”

Men in loose white shirts with open collars sat along the bar, drinking and laughing. Seconds later, they were college girls with fruity drinks. Then they were both at the same time.

Hallie’s attention jumped from the rips to me, mistrust immediately marring her features.

“You see them.”

“See who?”

The accusation remained unsaid, but it hung there between us like frozen winter breath.

“Truth. Now.” She leaned forward again, gripping the edge of the table. “Why are you here, and what do you know?”