Under My Nose
Bella Swan needs a change in pace, a slower groove to enjoy the simple pleasures life has to offer her. She moves from the Big Apple to the Big Easy, from subways to streetcars, from nouveau chic to historically
quaint, from a large Manhattan apartment near Park Avenue to a shotgun house with her eccentric aunt, in Mid City and off Canal Street. She's ready for love, commitment and that happily ever after, but does she have the patience to wait out her heart's desire? It's frustrating to be right, "under his nose".
Chapter Nine:
BPOV: (part two) afternoon ...January 2
It's a bright, sunny day with the temperature of fifty-eight, breezy degrees, not a cloud in the blue sky or a hint of humidity. I would comment on the fresh, clean air, but we are at the stables and fresh and clean would be the last two words I would use to describe the odors coming from the stalls.
Julia wears a headdress of red, white and blue feathers, fanning a half-moon over her head, with large, patriotic rhinestone gems on the leather straps that match her embroidered, firecracker, leg-warmers. She looks like a New Year celebration or a Las Vegas showgirl. Well, she does have long, shapely legs!
I watch Edward help Hank hook Julia up to the carriage. Once they finish strapping this and hooking that, Edward turns to me with a huge smile. "You ready?" He extends his hand out to me.
I walk to him as he grabs my hand, and cups my elbow to help me into the backseat. Hmmm, did fingertips brush my backseat?
"Are you warm enough?" he says with a concerned look and a blanket in his hands.
"Oh, I'm fine, thank you." I look at the blanket. "It's not that cold, Edward."
"I'll lay it on the seat, should you get cold." He places it next to me and looks up.
I look him dead in the eyes. "Were you looking to tuck me in again?" I bat my eyelashes like the flirt I am.
With a huge smile, he says, "Peut-être que j'étais." (Maybe I was.)
I arch my eyebrow and cross my arms over my chest. "Ah, i francesi." (Ah, the French). I hum, "Vous êtes un grand flirt cet après-midi, Monsieur Cullen." (You are a big flirt, this afternoon, Mr. Cullen.) Que dois-je faire avec vous? (What am I going to do with you?)
"Que voulez-vous faire?" (What do you want to do?) He is very breathy.
And with a smart-ass grin, I say … into his eyes … very close … very slow, "To take a … tour!" I lightly bite my teeth over my lip.
He smiles, yet I see a flicker of disappointment, drops his head, and slowly looks up at me. "Okay." Ah, he flashed his million dollar smile under his facial fur.
He hops up into the front driver's seat, takes the reigns and gently says, 'C'mon, girl' to Julia not me.
Julia moves forward, as Edward turns quickly to tell me we are on the way to the Quarter. He wants to start from the beginning and take me to every stopping point on the tour.
We make our way up one street and down another and somehow we are among the other carriages.
We pass Garrett and tell him we are off on a test tour. He tells us to have fun, and he'll see us later. I want to bake him a banana bread and slice it with butter. Also, slice it with cream cheese. We'll try it together.
Jimmie jogs quickly from Cafe du Monde crossing the street, holding a large coffee and a bag of beignets, sees me and shouts, "Bella, doing some sight-seeing?"
I giggle at him, "I'm doing a touristy thing!"
He smiles brightly, "Come by and see me later."
"Will do," I answer and send him a wave.
Edward asks who he is, and I tell him an artist from around the corner; no more, no less.
The wind catches my hair all over my face, and I roll my stocking hat on my head. Edward gruffly tells me to put on the blanket, and I have to ask, "What is it with you and this blanket?"
He acts all pissy. "It's windy."
"Did I do something wrong to upset you?" I sit forward.
I get a quick, 'no'. He gives this shake of his head and gruffly moans, "I don't like that guy. These artists can't be trusted."
I openly sigh. "Okay."
He lets out another long moan. "Bella, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."
I reach for his arm and give him a squeeze. "Don't be nervous, just do what you planned, Edward." I give him a reassuring smile. "You'll be fine." But I get the feeling he was upset about something else.
He tells me how he wants to introduce the couples to New Orleans and the French Quarter and make them feel comfortable. It's all about the city; that the French Quarter is the heart and soul of the French to the Spaniards. He explains the historical architecture from the colors of the buildings to the wrought iron balconies. And what truly captures my interest is his portrayal of the pirate Jean Lafitte and his brother, Pierre. I listen and hang onto every, single word.
"And no one could call him a pirate and live. A privateer that owned the waters of the Gulf of Mexico," Edward tells his tale. "He commanded a fleet of ships larger that the US Navy. There were times he was a ruthless and murderous pirate, and other times he was a civilized, businessman conducting trade and commerce. He was loved, hated and feared. He was a legend in his day, for absconding simple men and turning them into smugglers, thieves and businessmen. He owned the waters of the Gulf and Caribbean coast. But his thievery wasn't all in selfish vain. He traveled in parts of the US that the government simply forgot about or refused to give aid to. He clothed and fed thousands, redeeming his character.
"So, he was an altruistic rogue?" I ask.
"Yeah, and he was a charmer. Women were very drawn to his good looks and height," he says very easily. "He was a wealthy man and dressed to fashion."
Edward turns to look at me, and I can see that underneath his wayward hair and casual clothing he could be quite the stunner, quite the pirate, Jean Lafitte. I shake my head and pay attention.
"His brother, Pierre, was into slave trading. With all the cheap help, they ruled New Orleans and their many women."
"Ah, so you are basing this tour on the Lafitte brothers?" I question.
"Part of it. I also want to cover the intrigue of the voodoo priestess, Marie Laveau, too. This city has many layers, Bella."
"I'm beginning to see that. Sorry to interrupt," I apologize.
"No, I want to encourage questions. I don't want to sound like a history book. The reactions of these couples are important to me," he says so very softly, as if he is lost in thought.
"Please, go on with your romantic and magical tale," I urge him on.
"Well, Jean was sought after by friends and enemies. Andrew Jackson asked for his help in securing the city, during the Battle of New Orleans.
While the Governor had a $500 reward over Lafitte's head for anyone to bring him in, Lafitte turned it around and kiddingly placed a $5000 reward for anyone willing to bring the Governor in."
I laugh, "Mr. Lafitte was a character with a sense of humor."
"And a man who appreciated the finer things in life." He stops the carriage in front of a small tavern at the corner of Bourbon and St Philip Street. "This was Jean Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop. A place he sat with his men to plan his raids and travels."
Edward's voice fades into the background, as I take in the small building with shutters for doors and windows with stucco walls and brick. I can hear him say that it's the oldest building in the United States that is used as a bar and candles are it's source of lighting. I close my eyes and hear the shouting of Lafitte's anger and see a scene of an argument.
"I do not care what you want to do, Pierre. I agreed to secure this city, and secure I will do. I gave my word. Andrew Jackson needs our help, our men, our supplies. Have you no pride for your home? We will not lose to these scoundrels that believe they can win against us. We do not lose. We will not lose our homes. We will not lose our possessions. And we will not lose our ladies fair."
The young woman of blonde hair and bulging bust serves the ale. Jean grabs her by her flowing skirt and places her on his lap, cupping her chin in his hand and staring her in the eyes. "Mademoiselle, would you not wish me to protect your fine, pale skin and lovely, ruby lips?" he playfully smiles at her, while running a finger over her cheek down into her cleavage. Hmm, she happens to look an awful lot like me, and Jean looks an awful lot like Edward.
"Our business is finished." He throws his arms in the air with his eyes steaming into hers. "Leave us!" All the men leave with haste, while Pierre, 'tsk, tsk' his way out. "Now, how would you like me to protect you, fair beauty?"
Jean runs his hands down her back, and she does not speak. She only stares into his eyes. "I think I will take you!" And with that, Jean wraps his arms around her, running his hands up and down her back, and passionately kisses those ruby, red lips. She responds in the like, pulling his long hair and bringing him closer to her panting body.
"Oh, Monsieur, protect my body." She sloppily kisses his face and neck.
"Oh, oh, oh, ooooo." She clumsily gets up and straddles his lap, wrapping her legs around him.
Jean tries to tear at her clothing, only to tug enough for them to heavily fall on the floor. With grunts and moans, they roll around while in the throes of passion.
I open my eyes to see Edward staring at me. Giving him a playful smile, I shrug, "What?"
He takes a long gulp of air. "You were panting."
A faint, weird sound escapes me, and I can't seem to find the words to explain my daydream. I look around, eyes looking everywhere, but at Edward, and biting the inside of my cheek. "I kind of let my imagination run away with me." I make that small sound again and look up at him.
"You were mumbling something about protecting your body," he kids me.
I mumble into my hands that are over my heated face. "Um, yeaaaaah, I was!" I flush, blush and turn beet red.
"When you turn back to your normal color, maybe you'll tell me what you were dreaming about." He laughs … too much.
The ride back to the stables is silent. Although, I do hear Edward quietly chuckling to himself with shaking shoulders. I ball up my fists ready to pop him one, if he continues laughing at me.
We arrive, I quickly hurl myself out of the carriage, and into Julia's stall.
Edward shouts after me, "Bella!"
I start to pick up my pace and run into the building. Moments later, Edward breathlessly enters holding Julia's reigns. "Bella, why did you take off like that?"
I pout, "I'm not used to being laughed at." I continue to pack up my things.
I hear him draw in a large breath. "I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing at you."
I turn to look at him, pointing a finger at him. "And don't say you were laughing with me, because I wasn't laughing."
Just as Edward is about to open his cowardly mouth, he stops as a tall, slender blonde guy walks into the stall. He gives me a nod and smiles, then, stares Edward down. "Am I interrupting anything?"
Edward breathes easily. "Hey, Jazz. I'd like for you to meet Bella." He looks at me. "Bella, this is my best friend, Jasper."
Jasper walks over, bends to take my hand, and I shake his firmly. "Nice to meet you, Jasper."
"The pleasure is all mine, little lady." He politely gestures and pats my hand.
I look around awkwardly. "Well, since Jasper is here, I'm going to get going," I blurt out.
"But I thought I was taking you home?" Edward innocently questions.
I'm not nasty in my behavior, but I'm not exactly a warm fire. "No, don't worry about it, I'll take the streetcar." I hastily move to the door, with basket in hand. I don't look at him. "I'll see you later." I turn to Jasper. "Again, it was nice to meet you, Jasper." He nods.
I walk outside and hear Jasper say, "What the fuck did you do?"
EPOV
I watch her leave the stall.
I want to call after her.
I want her to stop.
My feet stick to the floor. Jasper says something, but I don't hear him. "What did you say, Jazz?"
He glares at me, "I said, what the fuck did you do?"
I scratch my head. "I really don't know."
"Well, she seems to have handed you your pink slip." He grunts. "I've never seen a girl ever tell you off. That was weird."
"Do you think she was mad?" I ask.
He scratched his head and thinks. "She was kind of cool, Edward."
"Man, we were flirting." I start to pace in front of Julia. "Well, I thought we were. Then, she cut me off."
"Yeah, I heard that part about how you were laughing at her." He sighs. "Man Edward, that just downright stupid. You never laugh at a lady. Alice would have nailed my nuts for that."
"She doesn't come on to me, Jazz. She's nice and sweet, and I don't think she's interested in me," I admit.
"When did you meet her?" he asks.
"Last night."
"She paid for a ride with you?" he asks.
"No, she works at Cafe du Monde. I bought a coffee from her. We talked and I asked her to come on a ride."
Jasper examines me and looks at my face close up. "You like her."
"Yeah, I like her. I want to know more about her." I excitedly grab Jasper. "But Jazz, she rides, I let her ride my Glide."
Jazz wiggles his eyebrows, "Well, I'd say you know her pretty good, man!"
I shove him. "Fuck, she rode my bike, you asshole!"
"Man, you're giving me mixed signals. You think she isn't into you, yet you let her ride your bike." Jasper quips.
"I don't know what came over me."
Jasper puts an arm around my shoulders. "Edward, I think you met your match."
"Jazz, she's not into me like that." I moan.
"Then, make her into you, Edward. I've never seen a female walk away from you," he states.
"Really? I think you just did." I take a brush and wipe down Julia. She moves in the opposite direction, swatting me with her tail.
"Not you, too!" I complain to Julia.
BPOV
I'm so mad I could spit, but somehow, with great fortune, I manage to miss Aunt Sally and beat the kitchen up making banana bread.
I feel better.
I fill the loaf pan with half the batter, sprinkle brown sugar and chopped almonds in the center and then add sliced, banana pieces, about one inch in thickness. Pouring the rest of the batter into the pan, I sprinkle the top with brown sugar, cinnamon, almonds and banana slices. Two pans go into the oven, and I begin to clean up.
I hope this will be a pleasant memory for Garrett. He seems like such a nice guy.
Aunt Sally walks in, takes a deep breath and smiles broadly. "Oh, I do love you, JujuBee. Yum, banana bread. You spoil me."
I tease, "How do you know this is for you?"
She frowns, "You'd give it to Edward before me?"
"Don't start with being wounded, again. This is for another driver, Garrett. He lost his wife in Katrina. She used to make him banana bread."
Sally hugs me and takes my face in her hands. "You have a heart of gold."
I smile. "I made two loaves."
"Oy, you terrible girl, taunting me with a banana." Forever dramatic.
"No, I'll let Richard do that." I have a big stupid grin, but I regret my comment, as soon as it leaves my mouth.
She peels a banana and takes a huge bite. "And he has such a big banana."
"TMI. TMI." I put my hands over my ears. "You always have to take it too far."
She giggles with a deep, raspy voice, "Oh, and I love it that far!"
I run out of the room. "You're wicked and pervy."
She howls, "All the better to orgasm, little girl!"
I shout from my room, "Slut!"
Aunt Sally takes pity on me, and drives me to the Quarter. She has an entire banana bread to herself when she gets back home. I arrive fifteen minutes early, so I can give Garrett his toasted bread and butter.
Yes, I have some for Edward, too.
I walk up to Garrett, as he is bent over inspecting a pile of pooh.
"Do you clean that up or are there pooper scoopers?" I jokingly giggle.
"Bella, oh no, we have street people who clean the 'poop'." He smiles.
"So, what do you have there?" He stares at the tinfoil package.
"As promised," I peel the foil open and hand it to him.
He bends his head down and takes a huge whiff of the thick sandwiches of banana bread, grabs a piece and pops it into his mouth. He hums with delight. "Now, that brings back memories." He smiles. "It's delicious, thank you." He takes another a bite of the buttered bread."
"The other piece has cream cheese." I announce.
Garrett looks at me, takes the cream cheese sandwich and takes a bite. "Now, that is good," he mumbles nodding his head.
Edward walks over with his head down and very softly says my name, 'Bella'.
I turn to him and hand him the other tinfoil package, and with my eyes down, I awkwardly sputter, "This is for you."
Garrett assesses the uncomfortable air around us and excuses himself. "I need to get a coffee. Edward, would you watch my carriage?"
Edward looks up at him. "Sure."
As Garrett walks across the street, Edward tells me to 'wait here' and runs to his carriage.
He walks back with a single, thornless, yellow rose. He extends his hand out to me and barely whispers, "I'm sorry. I wasn't making fun at you."
I'm speechless with my mouth wide opened, staring at the rose.
"The florist told me that yellow roses are for apologies and I owed you one. She also said that I should have the thorns removed."
I barely speak, "Why?" I finally look up at him seeing his sad look of remorse.
"Something about my explanation," He digs his hands into his jeans pockets and fidgets. "I told her what happened, and she said it was the thing to do, whatever that means."
I nod. "Um, I've got to get to work."
"Okay."
"Edward, I wasn't mad. Well, maybe in the beginning." I sigh. "I've got to go." I turn back to him. "Thank you." I extend the rose out and smile. "And try the bread!"
Garrett meets me halfway across the street, carrying two large coffees.
"Thanks again, Bella." He stares at the rose and raises his eyebrows. "Still friends?"
I bite the inside of my cheek. "Yeah." I look over to see Edward watching us. I wave and hug my rose.
The sweetness of that boy. A yellow rose for an apology. Hmmm, and whatelse does it mean?
A/N: Thank you to my Beta, Sunflower Fran. I appreciate her time, her proper grammar and quick pen. Another great find by PAD!
To Robseve and Postapocalypticdepository (PAD), my pre-readers that give their unselfish time and creative input. Both of these ladies are inspirations and true friends.
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Never Judge by the Cover: 9056924
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And thank you to all the readers, whether you review or not. I enjoy every comment and suggestion. Yes, NOLA (New Orleans, LA) is an exciting place to live. And to combine the old world with the new is a challenge, but the humor is quite a serious business. My objective is for all of you to smile, after each chapter.
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Next up: EPOV