Read Online Crescent City Connection by Julie Smith - Free Book Online Page A

cheeks, blue eyes, usually a dimple (Sam’s was in his chin), and a curl of blond hair dripping down a broad brow.
    He was a little shorter than Lovelace, but he had heft. Lots of comforting heft. Maybe he worked out, maybe his ancestors had been built like barrels, or maybe it was a combination, but the result was plenty of beef inside his now-damp Ralph Lauren pullover. The shirt was faded purple and he’d tucked it into faded jeans, which in turn topped a pair of running shoes. He might have been twenty-five or he could have been a little older—at any rate, she got the feeling he was a little old for the neighborhood.
    She had the vague feeling he didn’t smell quite right, but it was sufficiently vague that she dismissed it.
    “First of all, we should probably meet don’t you think? I’m Sam Marshall.”
    “I’m Michelle Jackson,” she said, thinking she probably wasn’t fooling him, but at least she hadn’t said “Smith.”
    “Ms. Jackson from Jackson,” he said, and she wondered if he was mocking her.
    She couldn’t be bothered worrying about it. “No, I’m not from here. That is—I was going to move here, but things didn’t work out. Oh, God, I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid!”
    “Easy now. Just take your time.”
    “I came to visit my boyfriend and we had a fight.”
    “Umm-hmm.”
    “And he said he was sorry he’d ever spent a penny on me and I wasn’t worth a penny and he was taking his own back. And he took all my money out of my purse and stuffed it in his pocket and threw my purse out the window. And then …” she thought fast, trying to make it believable that there was no going back “… he leaned over and smacked me across the mouth.”
    “You’ve got to be kiddin’.”
    “And he stopped the car and said, ‘Get out, whore.’ And I just sat there stunned, and he gave me a shove, and I landed on my butt in the street, and he peeled off with my suitcase.”
    “Well, no wonder you’re so shook up.”
    She turned her face and looked into his, about six inches away.
Oh, God, I hope he doesn’t try to kiss me.
    Instead, he said, “Where you from, Ms. Jackson?”
    “New Orleans.”
    “Well, I’ll take you home.”
    “You will?” Finally.
    “Hell, yeah. Been wantin’ to go there myself. Just got to take care of a little business. You wait for me?”
    She nodded, feeling numb. What else was she going to do?
    “Back in ten.”
    She went back in the coffeehouse and found the bathroom. One glance in the mirror convinced her that wasn’t something she should try again.
    She had no idea if Sam would show, but for the moment at least, she didn’t have to think of a new plan.
    He came up behind her. “Hey, Miss Michelle. I want you to meet my friends—Chip and Mimi. They’re going with us.”
    They looked okay—a little rednecky, but not bikers or anything. Both wore jeans and T-shirts, which now made four of them. Mimi had a lot of long curly hair, cut in layers. Chip was tall, had a gut, and he was gray at the temples. She wondered if Sam was even older than she’d first thought.
    “Hey, Michelle. Sorry about your hard luck.”
    Sam said, “Y’all ready?”
    Later, Lovelace couldn’t remember getting to the car, which was a four-by-four, a Blazer or something, or getting in or taking off. She did remember that once they were in the thing, somebody fired up a joint and all three of the others cracked open beers and offered her one, but she was so tired by then she could barely shake her head no.
    She must have fallen asleep right away.
    The drug her father had given her had probably never really worn off, but she had operated on adrenaline for a couple of hours, as long as she needed to, and the minute she could, she crashed.
    She fell asleep sitting up, strapped into her seat belt, Sam driving, the other two in the back.
    She awoke to find someone’s hand between her legs, stroking her. She was aware that that was what had awakened her; she had dreamed about