Cover to Covers (13 page)

“I know that! Is that why you called me, to gloat about getting back together with her?”

“No.” He tapped his fingers on the thigh of his jeans,
gratified that he had rattled her practiced patience. “I need to speak with Gary. Business.”

“Be careful, Tyler. She broke your heart last time when she left for New Orleans, and she will do it again.”

“Maybe this time it will be different. We’ve both grown up.”

“Your body grows up, darling, but your mind is just as stupid as it was when you were young. That’s the little irony of life. You may appear wiser because of gray hair and wrinkles, but it is only an illusion. Wisdom only comes to us when we’re dead.”

“Always the optimist, aren’t you, Mother?”

“I’ll get your father.”

“Stepfather,” Tyler quickly corrected.

“He’s been more of a father to you than…don’t start, Tyler. You’ll give me another migraine if we go around in circles again about your father.”

“I thought the migraines only came when we talked about Peter.”

The silence on the line this time was completely expected. He knew mentioning that name would always elicit his mother’s ire.

“You know I don’t like talking about him, Tyler. I’ve told you that before. And please, don’t get that nasty attitude like you always do whenever you bring up your brother.”

“At least I
talk about him. You act like he’s dead.” His hand tightened on the phone.

“He is dead to me. It’s been thirty
-six years since he left us. Not a word in all that time means he has to be dead. I said my good-byes long ago, Tyler. I suggest you do the same.”

“Not until I have proof. I won’t give up hope.”

“You’d better, or it will destroy you just like it—here’s your father.” He heard the phone being passed away.

“Tyler?” a man’s
gravelly voice echoed over the line. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Gary. I hope you don’t mind but I need to ask you a favor.”

“I take it this is about the company?”

Th
at uncomfortable knot in Tyler’s chest tightened. It was his usual reaction whenever he discussed business with his stepfather. “Yeah, I have a situation developing with that pipeline we are trying to run down from our gas wells in Oklahoma. It seems the state legislature is blocking our building permits.”

“Sounds like the usual political bullshit. You pay off the right guys?”

Tyler withheld the insolent retort he wanted to let loose, not wanting to upset his stepfather. “Yeah, we locked in the locals a while ago, but I need someone at the state level. You still know people there?”

“You know you have to pay off at all levels in this game, Tyler. ‘Men are more easily governed through their vices, tha
n their virtues.’ Napoleon said that.” An episode of light wheezing could be heard over the phone. “Hal Askew is an old poker playing buddy of mine,” Gary went on, sounding a little out of breath. “He’s a majority leader of the Oklahoma State Legislature. I’ll give him a call in the morning and set him straight. He can be swayed, but you’ll probably have to wash his hands in return.”

“What does he ask for?” Tyler
questioned, familiar with the art of gift giving to political cronies.

“Trips abroad mostly
, usually for him and his wife. I sent him to Italy twice when he got some of my projects pushed through committee. First class all the way, cost me a boatload, but he has a lot of clout in Oklahoma. You need him.”

“Fine, just let me know what he wants. I’ve got to get this pipeline deal closed in the next six months.”

“I’ll pass that on.” Gary took a ragged breath and then coughed. “Anything else? You taking care of my baby? I didn’t build Propel from nothing to have you run it into the ground.”

Tyler bit his tongue, not wanting to remind the man that he had been
successfully running the company for ten years. When Gary had been forced into retirement, Tyler had hoped his stepfather would let loose the reins of control over Propel, but Tyler had been wrong. He figured no matter what he did, Gary Leesburg would never see him as anything other than a second-rate replacement. “I’m taking care of the business, Gary. You got the last P&L report. We’re doing very well.”

“Could always be doing better, Tyler,” Gary said in his usual
patronizing way. “Your mother complains that you’re working too hard.”

“No harder than you did, Gary.”

“If I hadn’t had that damned heart attack, I’d still be running Propel. The only reason I left you in charge was because you’re Barbara’s son, and I thought you could handle it.”

“I am handling it, Gary,” Tyler replied, tempering the irritation in his voice.

“I heard something about New Orleans. You there on business for the company?”

The bright lights of the Mercedes-Benz Superdome came into view as the car reached the top of a high rise on the I-10. “No, I’m just taking a break for a few days
, and catching up with an old friend.”

“Well, don’t stay away too long. Things fall apart when no one is at the helm.”
Gary coughed again. “I envy you. I feel like I am getting absolutely senile puttering around this house all day.”

“
You need to take it easy, Gary.”

“So
the doctors keep telling me. I’ll get back to you about Hal Askew tomorrow, so check your messages.”

“Will do, and thanks.”

“Your mother wants to talk to you again.”

“Forget it,” Tyler returned. “We’ve already said enough.”

Tyler hung up, feeling more anxious than relieved by the phone call. Dealing with his mother always brought out the worst in him. After all the years of battling with her to be the successful son Gary needed, he was not surprised that their every conversation ended badly. Tyler never blamed his stepfather for his mother’s frenzied ambitions for her son. Gary had always given him the opportunity to make his career choices without any added pressure. But his mother always pushed Tyler to go above and beyond, especially when it came to making Gary happy. It was if she were making up for the loss of one son by forcing the other to be perfect. That had always been the underlying reason for the tension between them. Peter. Thirty-six years later, and it still hurt to think of him.

“We should be there in about ten more minutes,” Clark
reported from the front seat.

Tyler
shook off the past and focused on the businesses spread out along the lower portion of the famous St. Charles Avenue. To his left, a green trolley hummed along the center of the avenue, reminding him of the uniqueness of New Orleans.

“That’s quite a sight
.” Tyler pointed out the window to the trolley.

“Yeah,” Clark agreed. “Until you try and cross the neutral ground and end up dodgin’ them things. Always gotta look out for streetcars
‘round here.”

“What’s a neutral ground?” Tyler
inquired. 

Clark lightly chuckled. “Sorry. Ya’ll call them medians. In N’awlins, there ain’t no medians, only neutral grounds. Anythin’ that divides a street in two in this town is called a neutral ground.”

“That’s an odd name for it,” Tyler commented.

“The term goes back to the days when the French Creoles were livin’ in the French Quarter and the Americans occupied the other side of Canal Street, now called the CBD. The two groups always had tensions because of their different lifestyles, manners, and languages, but Canal Street was literally the one place they could go and not have any fights. So, it became the neutral ground and the term stuck in the city. That’s how you always know somebody’s from here. When they say neutral ground and not median, you’ve got a real New Orleanian.”

“Interesting bit of history, Clark.”

“It ain’t history to us. It’s just the way of things. There’s so much tradition in this town, that’s what I love about it. Nothin’ changes. Oh, I’m sure we have our detractors out there, ‘specially since Katrina, but people
here are pretty devoted. I think that’s what’s hard for outsiders to understand. But you gotta be from here to get it.”

“Actually, it would explain a great deal,” Tyler remarked.

The commercial buildings on St. Charles Avenue gave way to stately mansions and architectural landmarks. Tyler watched in fascination as the streetlights cast an eerie glow on the homes, making them appear more horrific than historic, and awakening images of vampires, ghosts, and any other number of supernatural creatures that he had read about in books set against the backdrop of the Big Easy.

The Town
Car took a left across the “neutral ground” and his gut twitched with misgivings. While the car maneuvered down narrow, bumpy streets with smaller, but still charming homes, Tyler debated if he had been a bit hasty in his decision to drop in on Monique. He figured he had been doing what she wanted, but as his journey came to an end, he began to consider if she would actually be as welcoming to him now as she might have been twenty-one years ago.

When Clark pulled the car in front of a raised gray and white, three-story home, Tyler was reminded of Monique. The house was like her in a way, not as ornate as others he had passed on the way down St. Charles Avenue, but reserved, classic, and distinctly unique.

Modest white Doric columns decorated a short porch and also supported an equally short second floor balcony. Rising from the second floor was a steep, slopping roof with dormer windows set on either side. A black iron fence ran about the edge of the property with manicured gardens of green shrubs in front. The porch lights were out, and none of the long windows facing the street had any light shining through them, making Tyler question if anyone was home.

He remembered what Chris
Donovan had told him about Monique returning to New Orleans instead of attending her next convention, and speculated if perhaps she had gone on to fulfill her commitments.

“You sure someone is waitin’ for you?” Clark asked, reading Tyler’s mind. “Looks like no one’s home.”

A sudden flash of light from a second floor window made Tyler smile. “She’s there.”

Clark put the car into park and Tyler grabbed his overnight bag on the seat next to him. But when he
put his hand on his door, Clark was already opening it for him.

“I hope you have a nice stay in N’awlins, Mr. Moore
.” Clark moved away from the passenger door and to the back of the car.

Tyler stood from the car. “I hope so, too.”

He waited for the young man to lift his suitcase from the trunk as he slung his overnight bag on his shoulder.

“You want me to take this to the door for you?” Clark
held up the suitcase.

“No, thanks.” Tyler
took his suitcase. “I’m good.”

“Just call again if you need a lift back to the airport, Mr. Moore.” Clark stood before him. “It’s been nice meetin’ you, sir.”

Tyler extended his hand to the young driver. “Clark, it’s been a privilege. I wish you all the best.”

Clark shook his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Moore. Have a good time.”

Tyler waited as the young man went around to the driver’s side and climbed back behind the wheel.

After the
black car had pulled away from the curb, Tyler turned to the imposing recessed oak door with a decorative glass fanlight above, and squared his shoulders.

“Here we go.”

Chapter 10

Tyler entered the small black gate and progressed down a slender, red-bricked pathway to the front porch steps. He climbed the steps and listened as his footfalls echoed across the porch. Dropping his suitcase before the front door, he pressed the brass doorbell on his left.

The distant sound of chimes could be heard coming through the thick oak door. Seconds ticked by, and he could feel his heartbeat speed up as he listened for movement within.
Lights suddenly shone through the fanlight overhead.

“Who is it?” a woman’s voice called.

“Moe, it’s Tyler.”

At first, nothing happened. There was no rattling of
security chains or creaking as the old door gave way. Tyler listened and after a few tense moments was relieved to hear the clap of a deadbolt and see the porch light above the door come to life.

When she opened the door, he detected the hint of lilac in the air. Then, he saw her bare feet on the dark hardwood floor. His eyes traveled up her faded blue jeans to her rumpled T-shirt, and he noted how her dirty-blond
e hair draped around her shoulders. When he gazed into her face, her simple beauty enthralled him.

The faint pink blush on her cheeks stood out against her porcelain high cheekbones. Her deep gray eyes were
resplendent beneath the porch light, accentuating her dark eyelashes. The dim light highlighted the curve of her jaw, and her pink lips appeared paler, but still as full and round as he remembered. He wanted to reach out and sweep away the wisp of bangs hanging in her eyes, but then the light changed and her eyes drew together.

“What in the hell are you doing here?”