Jack left work Friday afternoon and began the long walk to the train station and shivered. A storm threatened above and he shoved his hands in his wool overcoat to keep them warm, but when he saw her coming towards him, the coldness of winter melted as she brushed past him on the street, the smell of her perfume lingering behind. He inhaled the fragrance he knew so well, the same scent that mingled with the heat of their bodies on that hot and steamy night in New Orleans. When he reached the station, it was dark and his mind was on anything but the long ride home to Connecticut. She was on his mind. She was still in his heart. The train rumbled in and he boarded taking a seat near the window just in time as a cold wintery mix of snow and rain began pelt against the glass pane. His mind wandered as he traced with his finger a drop of water from the top of the window to the bottom and he remembered again.
He was on Bourbon St. settling in at Bernier's bar and grille after a long meeting with a client just north of there. It was a business trip he had been dreading and with heat of summer bearing down on the city, he would be glad to leave. He was tall, firmly built, with blue eyes, square cut jaw, and had a summer tan. He ran a hand through his hair as he ordered a scotch and soda and glanced up at the TV over the bar where a bleached blonde woman was giving the weather report and had only bad news. More heat with no break in sight. He took off his jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. At least the bar was air conditioned and if he ate there he could stay well past the heat of the day before he headed back towards his hotel. That was the plan anyway.
A few minutes later, the door opened and a woman walked in dressed in business attire, a slim gray skirt, pink blouse opened at the neck, stockings and tall black heels and all of it fit like it was painted on and not worn. Her auburn hair was piled on her head and when she removed her sunglasses her beautiful green eyes sparkled like emeralds. She made her way to a table next to his and sat down facing him. The waiter immediately brought her a glass of white wine and he surmised she was a regular as the bartender already knew what she would order. She tipped the waiter generously and he smiled at her, but not without glancing down at the cleavage that peaked through the v in her blouse.
Jack tried not to stare, but it was if he was drawn to her. There was something mystical about her, some magical energy that kept his eyes focused on her. She looked up and noticed him and smiled before picking up her glass and taking a sip of her wine. He brought the scotch and soda to his lips and did the same, but his eyes were still on her. She didn't seem to mind. Normally he wasn't the kind of guy to pick up a woman in a bar and hated guys that did that kind of thing, but it wasn't something he could control. He knew he had to speak to her so he rose and approached her table.
"Would you mind if I sat with you?" he asked clearing his throat.
"No, I don't mind," she said smiling up at him.
My name is Jack. What's yours," he asked as he sat down next to her.
She stared down at her drink, "My name is Bella."
"It's nice to meet you Bella," Jack said and smiled.
She gave him a half smile back.
"So do you live in New Orleans?" he asked trying to keep the conversation going.
"No, I'm here on business," she replied.
"Me too," Jack said.
And that was how it began. Another round of drinks later and they had told their life stories, the Reader's Digest version anyway. She was married, but he was never around. No children, big house in the city, luxury cars, the works. He told her of the condo he had just bought, the promotion he got so he could buy the condo, that he had no girlfriend, but there had been someone a year or so ago. He told her he lived the bachelor life and loved it. He lied.
They ate together both ordering the shrimp jambalaya. Another round of drinks and it was time to leave. Both sat quietly not wanting to broach the subject, but knowing they had to before it got too late. It wasn't good to be on Bourbon St. late at night. It just wasn't safe.
"Can I get you a cab?" Jack asked.
"No, I have a car," she replied opening her purse to pay her portion of the tab when the waiter delivered the bill.
Jack touched her arm, "I've got this and handed a credit card to the waiting server.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "Maybe I can drop you off somewhere? It's the least I can do."
