23
Last thing I ever would have put on my bucket list
Malachi—Saturday, July 31—11:02 p.m.
“Blue Streak! Looking good! Got your best girl with you, huh?” some random reveler at the Blue Nile called out as Carissa and I took to the dance floor. We’d just come from an amazing dinner at Dooky Chase’s restaurant in Tremé. I was making good on my promise to take her dancing.
“Yessir, you know it!” I replied and spun Cari in a quick circle before pulling her close. She looked sexy as hell. She was rocking a hot pink halter dress that showed off all her hard work. Her skin glowed and her curly hair was glossy and fell around her pretty face. Even more than looking smoking hot, she looked rested, happy, and carefree. I hadn’t seen her look like this in years. The fact that I had a part in her happiness made me feel ten foot tall and unstoppable.
The live band was excellent. The lead singer was crooning about moonlight on the bayou. I swayed Carissa around the floor, loving every minute of this closeness. I closed my eyes and ran my hand across her smooth back.
“This is nice,” she murmured, tucking in closer to me.
“Mmm. Definitely,” I agreed. The music changed to an uptempo zydeco and I took a step back. “Ready to show me what you’re working with?”
She twirled once with her arms upraised and pointed at me. “Try and keep up, Knight.” She did some complicated footwork that was doubly impressive considering those sexy-ass stilts she was wearing and added some sort of shoulder shimmy.
“Oh, we really dancing? All right, then.” I leaned in to match my steps to hers. We were rocking when a bright flash went off right next to us.
“Mal! Carissa! Smile!” a photographer called out. Then another and another. Suddenly we were blinded by flashes. What the hell?
“Are you two back together?”
“Mal, you ready for your tryout?”
“If Houston doesn’t pick you up, will you come play in New Orleans?”
“Carissa, how’s he treating you this go-round?” The flashes and questions kept coming one after the other.
“You have GOT to be kidding me!” Carissa hissed under her breath.
I linked our fingers and murmured in her ear, “Must be a slow news night. The sooner we give them a photo op, the sooner they’ll leave us alone.”
We posed for a few minutes. Carissa was handling it like a pro. This was an area we’d had problems with before in my playing days. Carissa used to say she’d signed on to be with a man, not a personality, and she hated the whole pseudocelebrity thing. If I could thank the show for anything besides placing me back in her path, it would be getting Carissa comfortable or at least able to bear to stand in the spotlight for a few minutes without being too irritated.
“We’re just enjoying a weekend off. Thanks for all your good wishes,” Carissa stated without really answering any of their questions. As we turned to sit in the VIP section, a young woman with way too many assets on display stepped into our path. “Carissa, you really think you can keep him this time?”
“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” I asked, holding Carissa’s hand tighter when she moved to pull away.
She thrust her chest out, tossed her hair back, and flashed her overly whitened teeth at me. “I’m Leslie.”
“Well, Leslie, that’s rude. Not just rude but also disrespectful. To her and to me. Don’t be that chick.” I stepped around her and led Carissa over to the booth in the farthest corner of the VIP area. I sat on the plush velvet bench and she sat across from me. I tugged her closer until my legs bracketed hers and I could read her expression. I gazed into Cari’s face, trying to gauge what she was thinking and feeling. “You mad?”
She studied me a long moment before answering. “No. Surprised.”
“Why?”
“You never stood up for me in front of the groupies before.”
“Sure I did.”
“No. You didn’t. You laughed it off and told me it was all part of the package.”
I winced because the minute she quoted me, I knew I had said it. “Have I apologized for being an arrogant ass before?”
“You have.” A slow smile started spreading across her face.
I leaned in and nuzzled her ear. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
“This weekend was a good start.” She raised her face to mine and a flashbulb went off again. “This is crazy. We’re not that famous. Well, I’m not that famous. Your Blue Streak mojo is killing us here.”
“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, babe, but you, Carissa Wayne, are now a reality-television star. The flashes are as much for you as for me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Last thing I ever would have put on my bucket list.”
“What IS on your bucket list?” I was curious.
“You want to discuss that here? Now?” She looked incredulous.
“Well, we don’t have to get deep. I just wondered what your ‘before I’m eighty’ checklist looked like.”
She leaned her head closer to mine. “The regular things, I guess. Get married, have some kids, open the youth center, teach a few kids a few things along the way, travel to as many tropical locations as I can, be healthy and happy, surrounded by people who love me.” She put her hands up in a shrug. “Regular, right?”
I nodded. “Funny, my bucket list is the same. Just add win the Super Bowl, hoist the trophy, and do a victory dance in the end zone.”
‘Well, you don’t want much,” she teased.
“I don’t think so,” I teased back. I wanted to ask her if she saw me as her partner for those bucket-list plans, but I wasn’t sure of her answer and didn’t want to spoil this easiness between us if the answer was no. Not right now. We were having an epic weekend. I aimed to keep it that way. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw some guy holding up his iPhone filming us. “Okay, you’re right—this is a little crazy.”
“Mal?”
“Yep?”
“Do something for me?”
“Name it.”
“Get us outta here.”
“I thought you wanted to dance?”
“We can dance in the room.”
“We CAN dance in the room,” I agreed readily.
“We can dance in the room naked,” Carissa said silkily, running her hand up my thigh. I didn’t need any more prompting.
I motioned to one of the staff members and handed him my valet stub. “Can you have that brought around . . . quickly?”
“Yes, Mr. Knight.” He took off racing toward the door.
Cari giggled and mimicked him. “Yes, Mr. Knight.”
I stood up and pulled her with me. “Um-hmm, that’s all you need to say the rest of the evening. Yes, Mr. Knight. Okay, Mr. Knight. More, Mr. Knight.”
Her eyes heated up and she linked her fingers through mine. “So we’re outta here,” Carissa announced to the few people still snapping pictures and invading our privacy.
“Already gone,” I agreed and strode for the door.