Cain laughed. “Told you. But don’t beat yourself up. Your first one was always going to suck, and I screwed you over extra hard by ditching town in a year when it fell so early.”
“You’re allowed to have a life, boss.”
Cain had been tossing a mini basketball from hand to hand, but for a moment, he held it in his right hand and just stared at it with a frown. “I’m allowed to have a life, yes. I’m just afraid I walked away from it.”
“I disagree,” Megs said, sitting down across from him. “You’re just discovering a new part of it. A family member you didn’t know existed showed up, and you’ve got to explore that.”
He resumed tossing the ball, adding a little more snap to the motion than before. “What if this is my family? I’ve got a thousand people on my payroll, and that’s not counting the wives and husbands. You, Amy, the twins.”
“Amy and the boys do miss you,” she admitted. “Jamie, in particular, has been a nightmare because his new piano teacher is trying to force him to learn Beethoven, who you told him is boring.”
“Whoops.” Cain grinned, unrepentant.
“But we’ll be here. And if you decide to move to New York for good, we’ll visit. I mean, the Lego store alone.” She studied him. “Are you moving? For good?”
“Not up to me. I don’t even know if I’ll get the job.”
“They’d be idiots not to know that if you can come in here and untangle the Mardi Gras mess I made in a couple hours, you can run anything. But in case they are a bunch of fools and you don’t get it… you’ll be back?”
Violet held her breath.
The ball tossing slowed. “I dunno. Maybe. Probably.”
Violet’s heart sank just a little, even though she wasn’t surprised.
“Nothing to keep me there if I don’t get the job,” Cain continued.
Her heart sank a little further.
“What about your grandmother?”
Cain grunted.
“And maybe… the girl?” Megs said in a taunting tone. “Violet’s sweet. And gorgeous.”
“Megs. Shut up.”
“What’s that I’m hearing?” She lifted a hand to her ear. “Definitely not a denial, that’s for sure.”
The ball stopped again, this time because Cain tossed it at his manager, who batted it away with a laugh.
Biting her lip, Violet quietly crept away, a jumble of confused emotions.
Twenty-Three
Come on,” Violet said, reaching toward Cain’s neck for the beads, then laughing when he grabbed her wrist. “You’re not going to give me a single strand? You’re wearing, like, fifty.”
“You know how this works, Duchess.” He pointed to a group of giggling women who lifted their shirts and were rewarded with a dozen strands tossed at their feet from one of the balconies above.
“And I told you, it’s watered-down prostitution to show your boobs in exchange for jewelry.”
“Huh, I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said with sham regret as he twirled the beads on his finger.
“How’d you get so many?” she accused.
“Earned ’em.”
Proving his point, Cain turned to one of the balconies, which was crowded with middle-aged women, and yanked up his shirt. The women whooped and ogled.
Violet didn’t whoop. She did ogle.
Beads rained down at Cain’s feet as he laughed and pulled his shirt down. “See what happens when you put out?”
“Pathetic.”
“Come on. You only live once, Duchess. What if this is your only Mardi Gras? It’s a Bourbon Street tradition.”
Violet chewed her lip. “I’m not wearing a cute bra.”
“I’ve seen worse.”
“Gosh, thanks. Wait, how have you seen this one?”
“We’re sharing a room,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but I purposefully waited until you went into the bathroom to shower before changing.” She crossed her arms and gave him a playful glare.
“Huh. The door must have cracked open.” He didn’t look the least bit apologetic.
Old Violet might have gotten her feathers ruffled, or at least been embarrassed. New Violet was a little disappointed all he did was peek.
“So, what’s it gonna be?” He nudged her, pointing up at the balcony. “You gonna earn your beads, or no?”
She bit her lip. “You can’t tell Edith.”
“Yes, because that was my first order of business. To tell my grandma about all the breasts I’ve seen.”
“You called her grandma!” Violet said, in delight. “Usually it’s Edith or a clipped grandmother.”
“Fine. Whatever. Can we please not talk about her at the same time I’m trying to get a glimpse under your shirt?”
Violet looked around at the happy, slightly drunken revelry of Bourbon Street. Yesterday, Cain had told her to imagine the messiest, happiest, sloppiest party in the world, and so far the reality was surpassing every expectation. Restaurant and bar owners were handing out gold, purple, and green beads by the handfuls. The street was practically coated in them. All she had to do was pick up a couple of strands.
“If I do this, you have to promise not to peek,” she said, turning back to Cain.