Felix’s footsteps ate up the short block to Bourbon Street. He needed a drink.
He started to turn right, to head to Lafitte’s, a dark moody tavern, but he changed his mind and turned left, letting the neon lights of the flashier bars splash over him. The street was still jumping, partygoers stumbling in and out of clubs, clutching plastic cups, wearing Mardi Gras beads.
The thought was to be anonymous, to go unnoticed on the busy street, but all it did was remind him that he was alone, always alone. He told himself this was his world, that of entertainment in exchange for money, that he was the game show host with a revolving door of contestants.
It might be how he had to exist, but it didn’t mean he had to like it.
A woman stumbled in front of him and Felix grabbed her arm to steady her. She tried to glance back and thank him, but her eyes were glassy from alcohol, and the movement of her head threw her off balance again.
She couldn’t make eye contact with him.
Felix let her go and her friend locked arms with her. They tottered away and Felix cut down Orleans Street and headed home.
There was nothing here for him.
Regan finished hanging every last photograph and piece of art in her living room, pounding viciously into the plaster with her hammer, angry with herself.
Felix had known all along that she was attracted to him.The thought that he might think she had made up excuses to see him was a very mortifying fear. It rolled around and around in her head, a refrain of insecurity. Why had he left like that?
Unable to stand it anymore, Regan sent Felix a text message. She wrote, Thanks for coming over, and hit SEND before she could change her mind.
Three hours later she finally fell asleep on the couch, Camille’s journal in her hands.
Felix never answered.
Chapter Nine
“You look like shit,” Chris told Regan over dinner the next night. “You should hit your dermatologist up for something to hide those dark circles under your eyes.”
Regan set down her salad fork so she wouldn’t throw it at him. “Thanks for the advice. And brutal honesty.”“What are friends for?” He made inroads into his cranberry walnut salad, either totally unaware he had hurt her feelings or not caring.
Chances were, he just didn’t care. There was probably a lesson in that for her. She should take a page from Chris’s book and worry less what other people thought of her. “I’m not getting any sleep. I keep having those weird dreams, and last night, I think I saw a ghost.” She described Camille to him. “It was really unnerving.”
That hadn’t been the only thing that was unnerving. The image of Felix’s face, his light eyes boring into her, popped into her head.
“I think it’s cool you have a ghost. Not that I would want to live there, but I think it’s very trendy and great fodder for dinner parties. What did you do? Did you try to talk to her or leave the house or what?”
She picked her fork back up and fiddled with it, staring at her mixed greens. “I stared at her until she disappeared, then I called the voodoo priest, the one who is going to be at my party. He came over.”
“Oh, really?” Glee crept into Chris’s voice. “Is he cute? Or is he like a hundred years old with hairy knuckles?”
“He’s not old. He’s our age. And cute is not the right word to describe him. Striking is more accurate.” Regan shrugged. “He’s hot.”
“Now we’re talking. So he was all reassuring and sexy, controlling the freaky shit in your house... Please tell me this is going somewhere interesting.”
“Well, we talked. And he’s kind of hard to read, but it was nice to have company and he believes me without question about the occurrences in the house. Then he said something I was not expecting.”
“Yeah? What?”
It was embarrassing to say out loud, but Regan wanted a male opinion. She dropped her voice. “He said, ‘You want me to f**k you, don’t you?”’
Chris’s eyes went wide. “Hello. That’s hot. So you said yes and he threw you against the wall, didn’t he? Oh, my God, I’m so jealous.”
That wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. “No! I told him to get out of my house. Don’t you think saying that to someone you hardly know is rude?”
“Umm ... was it true?”
“Well, maybe, but it’s still rude.”
“Why?” Chris looked genuinely puzzled. “Why play games? Just say what you’re both thinking. I think that’s just a time-saver.”
Was that really the male point of view or was that just Chris? Regan frowned. “Yeah, but when he said that, I had no way of knowing if he was going to reciprocate the sentiment, so it made me uncomfortable. Embarrassed. What if I said yes and he said, ‘Thanks for the ego boost,’ and left?”
“See, this is where women need to get a grip. No man is going to throw a question out there like that unless he is thinking that he totally wants to nail you. It’s like he’s handing you a permission slip to sign. Trust me, if you had said yes, it would have been up-against-the-wall sex.”
There was a pause while Regan contemplated that actually happening. Felix’s hands on her shoulders, her waist, in her hair, peeling off her clothing. His mouth on hers, on her br**sts. The wall hard behind her head, her back as he stroked her to the first of many orgasms...
Regan put her hands on her cheeks and cleared her throat. That definitely would have been more fun than hanging art and falling asleep on her couch alone. “Really? Well, I guess I blew it then.”
“Yeah, well, let’s be honest here. Are you really a casual sex kind of girl? You’ve always been relationship oriented, you know. Can you really have sex with this guy and not worry or fixate on what it means?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Part of me thinks casual is just what I need after my marriage, but I am fascinated by him, I can admit that to myself. If I have sex with him, and it’s good, I’m going to want to again, I’m sure. Part of me thinks maybe it’s not a good idea to be involved in any way with a man right now, casual or otherwise.”
“Which might be why you freaked and tossed him out of your house. It was more self-protection than fear that he didn’t want you in return.”
Feeling depressed, she abandoned her fork yet again. “So I’m supposed to just do what? Never have sex again? Have sex with someone I’m not even interested in? I don’t think that will work at all.”