Bonbons and Betrayal: Book 3 in The Chocolate Cafe Series (4 page)

“Let me,” Louis said, and watched as the wild haired stranger bent over his lighter like a nervous girl on a first date.

“Thanks,” the boy said. “It’s terrible in there. Horrible. He’s finally decided to join them, up there on that stage with all the….” His face twisted in disgust. “Accolades and false praise. They look at him. They look at him like he’s some sort of genius but I can tell you. I can tell you personally, and from experience, that bastard is no genius.” He spoke so rapidly that Louis almost had trouble following him. He found himself leaning over the boy slightly to decipher the rapid fire of words and anger that shot out of him.

“You mean Paul? Good old Paul. The jury seems to be out on the man this evening, that’s for sure.”

“Good old Paul? Good old Paul? You should… You should wash your mouth out. Wash it out with soap. Good old Paul.” Louis watched carefully, gleaning what he could out of every blink and gesture the kid made. Old habits died hard. He watched the boy bring the cigarette to his lips with seizing hands.

“I’m Louis, by the way. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Randall Eisenhower. Professional patsy to fat-cat morons like Creed. It’s a tough job but someone’s got to…” For a second, Randall’s eyes flickered up into his head and his entire body jerked forward. Louis made a move to grab him should he fall, but the boy managed to right himself before he toppled over.

“You should sit down,” Louis said, gently steadying him by his elbow.

“I should sit down,“ Randall mumbled. “I should sit down. I should sit down and shut up.“ He suddenly flung his arms wide. “Let the magnificent Paul Creed have the floor. Let the magnificent Paul Creed open this vein right here and take what he needs.” He turned his wrists, thinner and bright white in the alley way light, toward Louis. “He should open them up and take a good, long, drink. He’s taken everything else…” Randall was suddenly interrupted when the door opened again. One of the bartenders slid out and onto the top of the stairs.

“Popular spot,” Louis said, a little disappointed he didn’t get to hear the end of Randall’s escalating rant.

The bartender glared suspiciously at the two of them over his cigarette. Randall quickly lowered his wrists, skittish, as if he had been caught in the act. What act remained to be seen.

“I gotta get back in. I’ll go back in. I can’t miss the finale. I can’t miss the big, heart wrenching acceptance speech. Oh no…” He began to walk past Louis but stopped. For the first time since his odd performance began, he made direct eye contact with the detective.

There it was again,
the same look he had noticed in Deena Shelat's eyes. He had been broken, too, perhaps even beyond repair.

“You won’t believe him will you? Will you? No, I don’t think so. I really don’t.” Randall Eisenhower threw his cigarette, barely touched, into the same puddle that already housed Louis’ match. “You can’t believe him.” Randall muttered and scuttled up the stairs.

The bartender, unimpressed and bored, opened the door for him. Without a glance in his direction, Randall went back to face whatever was making him so furious.

Or whomever.

“My friends and I would love four of your finest slices of pepperoni pizza. Make sure they’re extra greasy.” Paul Creed smiled the kind of dazzling smile that had the power to send even an exhausted middle-aged Persian man on the hunt for the perfect slices.

“Four slices, my friend. Coming right up.” The man, somewhere in his mid-seventies, seemed to brighten up every time Paul moved.

Mac was too drunk for her own liking, but even in her hazy state, she could see that same effect working on her best friend. Brie hung off Paul’s compact frame like a monkey. She would’ve picked nits out of his hair if he’d let her. She had never seen Sabrina so smitten. Not her Brie. Not brilliant, rebellious, free spirited Brie who had never sought out a man in her life, let alone draped herself over one in public.

The pizza man returned from the back of the fluorescent-lit restaurant with four slices of pizza. They were perfect. Unlike the depressing looking others that were stuck on a perpetually spinning display in the case, these were obviously fresh out of the oven.

“Your perfect slices, for the perfect couples,”
the
man announced proudly. Paul smiled again.

“You’re a good man,” he said. “A good man. Thank you, my friend.” He slid a fifty-dollar bill across the counter and took the slices. The man gasped and began thanking Paul profusely. Paul casually handed the slices on their paper plates to the group, barely acknowledging his obvious generosity. “What do you think? It’s a beautiful night. You guys want to walk?“

Brie, perhaps the most intoxicated out of all of them, gasped far too loudly. She pushed her hair out of her eyes where it had slipped out of her headband.

“You’re right. It is lovely. Beautiful night. Let’s go walk and eat pizza.” She announced it as if she had never heard of a more brilliant idea. Paul was clearly pleased at her enthusiasm and hooked a finger under her chin, raising her mouth to his for a kiss.

It was all Mac could do to stop from shuddering.

“Sounds wonderful,” Mac said. “Little bit of NYC rainwater on a slice never hurt anyone.” Brie and Paul were too busy kissing to register her sarcasm. Louis however, snorted slightly as he bit into his own ‘extra greasy’ pizza.

The kiss finally ended with a resounding smack.

“You are a beauty.” Paul said, toying with one long strand of her hair “Where did you come from?”

“Mackenzie Bay.” Mac said shortly.
“
Let’s walk, shall we?”

The foursome stepped out onto the sidewalk, as vibrant and alive at 2am as it would be in the middle of the afternoon. Taxis whizzed by on the wet streets, sending fans of dirty water up on the sidewalk. Every shop door was wide open and from them came the sounds of loud conversations and music distorted by cheap speakers. It was seedy. It was a little bit dangerous. It was the perfect backdrop to showcase Paul Creed’s roguish charms and almost unbelievable good looks.

“Tell me more about your app, Paul,” Louis said, through mouthfuls of pizza. He and Mac were walking behind the lovebirds, the perfect position for them to share glances and whisper should the need arise. “I’m afraid I blanked out a bit about half way through.”

At the mention of his highly touted success, Paul peeled himself effortlessly away from Brie. He turned his head to the side to shout back at them. Or was it to showcase that vintage matinee idol profile of his? Mac had the feeling everything this man did had a flattering angle.

“Essentially, it allows the user to communicate with his car.”

“Or
her
car” Mac mumbled. Louis snickered again.

“Imagine a technology that allowed you to control your vehicle remotely, no matter what car you have. No special fob. No complex ‘box’ or anything that clunky. Cartistry allows you to, in essence, remotely control a car – unlock it, start the air conditioning, pop the trunk, check the fluid levels, run an engine diagnostic, directly communicate with the manufacturers, even calculate the exact time you’ll run out of gas. It even allows your car to communicate with you, to text you, like your friends do.”

“That’s quite futuristic, isn’t it?” Louis asked. “That must’ve taken a great deal of work.” There was something about Louis’ tone that Mac found very pleasing. He only used it when he was working, but it was so very charming and so very innocent that even the person he was using it on had no idea they were being manipulated. He was a master at it. “I mean it must be quite complicated developing those kinds of ideas on your own.”

The conversation was briefly interrupted when a group of extravagantly dressed female party goers took over the sidewalk. They all grew silent as they passed Paul, each of them in obvious appreciation of his beauty.

Paul laughed, his bangs coming loose from their dashing sweep and falling over his widow’s peak.

“It was nothing. It’s just the beginning, Louis. I’m working on being able to remotely and safely disable cars as they are being driven. Imagine the impact that could have in your line of work.”

“I…” Brie said, tossing her grease sodden paper plate into a garbage can as she passed. “I am an expert at disabling moving vehicles.”

Mac’s stomach clenched suddenly with embarrassment. Not for herself but for poor Brie. Her mouthful of pizza felt suddenly soggy and disgusting in her mouth.
Not this story Brie. If you want to impress the man, leave this one out of it.

“You do, do you?” Paul asked, wrapping his hand around her waist.

“Sabrina…” Mac began.

“What?” It was Brie’s turn to look back over her shoulder. From the spark in her eye, Mac knew there would be no point in trying to stop her now. She was out for blood with this man.

“An ex-boyfriend of mine decided to help himself to some of my valuables a few years back. He grabbed pretty much all the money I had been saving, took my father’s car in the middle of the night and drove off.”

Paul’s look of concern was dazzling; he was completely affected.

“Terrible. What did you do?”

Brie tossed that too-long fall of hair over her shoulder and shrugged.

“I took my father’s gun and caught up to him on my motorbike… “

“Easy,” Louis said. “Should I be hearing this?”

“When I was close enough, I shot the wheels out. He came to a limping halt and I got my money back.“ Mac watched Paul’s face for some sign of horror or outrage… nervousness even.

Over the years Mac had watched her friend fly this particular red flag on many occasion and it never failed to frighten even the most ardent of suitors off.

Paul registered absolutely nothing but amusement.

“We call it the chaos maneuver, don’t we, Mac?” Brie laughed.

Mac made eye contact with Louis, whose brows were so far up his forehead that they had almost disappeared in his now scruffy mass of hair.

“I suppose we do,” Mac said, carefully.

They were at it again. Paul’s lips were firmly attached to Sabrina’s and their eyes were closed. Apparently, their need for oxygen was the only thing that finally split them apart.

“You are amazing,” Mac heard Paul whisper in Brie’s ear. More a stranger now than her best friend, Brie flushed an ethereal shade of pink and snuggled her head onto his shoulder.

Before she could gag, Mac felt Louis put his hand on her shoulder to slow her down. She watched, gratefully, as the distance between the four of them increased.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Mac said, looking for somewhere to place her now almost soaked pizza.

“Here.” Louis took her plate and piled it on top of his. He effortlessly threw it into a nearby can, frightening a pair of late night pigeons strutting about its base. “Charming, isn’t he?” Louis asked, watching Mac’s expression carefully.

“Too much so.”

“I think Sabrina may need to hear the bad reviews,” he said, as lightly as he could.

Even though she instinctively disliked the man, Mac found herself appalled by the idea.

“You mean tell her what that crazy woman said at the party?”

“Crazy Nobel Prize winners…always ruining relationships,” Louis said dryly.

“And that maniac you told me about in the alley, too. Look at her, it would kill her! I’ve never seen her so smitten. It’s disgusting.”

“I agree. It’s appalling. Still, isn’t it better to do it now as opposed to later when things get… Can they get more serious? I’m not sure.”

Mac was conflicted. Perhaps the worst thing about knowing someone so well and loving them so deeply was the fact that all their sorrows become yours. This girl, the same one that looked like the princess in some urban fairytale in front of her, soaked hem trailing behind her, had been more family to her than anyone. She hated the idea of seeing her hurt almost as much as she hated the idea of ending her obvious happiness.

“Maybe let her enjoy it…for just a few days. Just…” She looked to Louis for agreement. However, the chiseled intensity had returned and he was watching the two of them like a lifeguard on a busy beach. Maybe he wouldn’t be capable of letting her enjoy it. Maybe the detective’s need to protect was stronger than his capacity for empathy.

Sabrina’s laughter rang out, tinkling, louder than the cars and horns and conversations and music. It was a sound Mac had never heard before.