Release Me Page 17

  Payton shook his head. “I’m just giving the woman options.”

  “She doesn’t need options,” Toby said, thrusting his body between them. He was so close to punching the hell out of Payton he could almost feel his fist hitting the side of the man’s head.

  “Toby.” Sienna caught his shoulder. “Here’s Aria. I think this would be a good time to go over some of the things we discussed.”

  Aria sidled up next to him. She was obviously star-struck by the night’s honored guest.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Aria said, gushing like the barely post-teen that she was. “I cannot believe I’m standing next to Isaac Payton. I thought I would die when I heard you were in the audience tonight.”

  “I heard about this brand new singing sensation performing at my former college teammate’s new club, so I had to check it out. Of course, I didn’t realize I’d get to see another former teammate. Toby and I go way back,” Payton finished with a wink of an eye and flash of his bleached teeth.

  “I didn’t know that,” Aria said, looking at Toby as if he was somehow more important because he knew the great Isaac Payton.

  “I’ve got tons of stories about my old friend,” Isaac answered her. “Why don’t we all go back over to my table and catch up. Drinks are on me.”

  “I don’t think so,” Toby said. The smirk on Isaac’s face pissed him off. “I’ve got more important things to do.”

  “Oh, c’mon, Toby,” Aria pleaded. “Please.”

  He rolled his eyes, but relented.

  A prisoner on his way to the electric chair probably had more of a bounce in his step than Toby did, but he still managed to make it to the side of the club Isaac and his entourage had commandeered.

  Sienna and Aria sat next to each other at the round table, and instead of taking the available seat next to the woman who was openly worshipping him, Isaac chose to sit next to Sienna.

  The hairs on the back of Toby’s neck stood at attention.

  There was no way his ex-teammate would give up the opportunity to be idolized by an adoring fan in exchange for a cold shoulder. Unless he was looking for a challenge.

  As Isaac went on about the glamorous life of an NBA superstar, Aria looked on the verge of melting into a pool of mush. Sienna, on the other hand, wasn’t in any danger of being blown away by Isaac’s hot air. With every word he said, Toby could see Sienna’s face stiffening to the point that he figured he’d have to throw her in a sauna to loosen her skin. And, Isaac, being the idiot of the decade, as usual, didn’t seem to take the hint.

  “So,” Isaac turned toward Sienna. “Tell me about what you’ve done to help out Toby. Being creative isn’t his strong point. At least, it never was on the basketball court.”

  Toby gritted his teeth and counted to five in an attempt to control his temper.

  “Hmm…the team that drafted him didn’t seem to think so,” Sienna countered smoothly, folding her hands on the table. “I’ve played ball with Toby more times than I can count, and although I hate to admit it, I was fooled quite a few times by some of his trick moves.”

  “Wait!” Isaac said. “Are you the one Toby used to call Cee Cee? You’re that Sienna?”

  “I am,” Sienna answered in an even colder voice.

  “Oh, man. Toby used to talk about you all the time. He forgot to mention you were fine as hell.”

  “Toby knows I do not appreciate being discussed in that way,” Sienna answered smoothly.

  Thank God Sienna had such a good head on her shoulders. The girl was reading the situation like a book, and not falling for a thing Isaac said. But that wasn’t enough to stop Payton. Refusing to storm out of the club, thus giving Payton the satisfaction of knowing his jibes still ate at him, Toby sat there for the next hour, drowning in pure humiliation, as the man he once called a friend did his very best to make him feel like nothing.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You’re concentrating pretty hard there,” Sienna said as she scooted onto a high back barstool and balanced her pool cue next to her.

  “I want to make sure I cover all of my angles,” Toby answered.

  He picked up his beer and strolled to the other side of the table, his feet sticking to the grimy, slightly uneven floorboards. A thin haze of cigarette smoke hovered just above their heads like a threadbare blanket, the wall of colorful neon beer signs bathing them with an ethereal, vivid hue.

  The thwack of dented balls clashing upon the occupied pool tables competed with the bluesy music flowing from a boom box, circa 1983, sitting on the far edge of the bar.

  Toby took a slow pull on his longneck, letting out a satisfied sigh at the rush of the icy liquid trickling down his throat. But the cold beer did nothing to cool him down. Toby was still steaming over what had gone down at the club earlier.

  Isaac Payton had personified arrogance as a cocky freshman back at St. Johns, but now that he was a credible star in the NBA, his head had swelled to gargantuan proportions. Toby was surprised he could fit it inside that silver Maserati he took off in after leaving the club.

  He had spent the last few years trying to ignore the hype surrounding his former teammate’s career, but it was impossible. The man had everything Toby had ever wanted—fame, endorsements, contracts, a great career. Isaac Payton was living his life.

  He could still remember lying in the hospital bed and watching Isaac go in the first round of the NBA draft. The stinging metallic taste of bitterness still lingered on his tongue. Seeing his former teammate tonight had dug up memories Toby had hoped to keep buried deep. Witnessing Isaac’s success and seeing the throng of people crowding at his feet tonight had nearly torn the small shred of confidence he had regained. No matter how popular Aria became on the local music scene, he had a long way to go before he could ever hope to experience the success Isaac enjoyed.

  Toby took another long gulp of his beer in an attempt to wash away the depressing thoughts.

  “Are you going to take your shot, or what?” Sienna asked.

  His mouth curved into a grin at her teasing impatience.

  After all these years, Sienna was still doing her best to ease his pain when she knew he was hurting. He hadn’t had to say anything; she’d seemed to know what seeing Isaac had done to him tonight. When he’d tried to go home after leaving the club, Sienna wouldn’t let him. She’d practically dragged him to this all night pool hall/rib joint, claiming she was hungry and needed to unwind.

  For the past two hours they had managed to get slamming drunk, but when Sienna foolishly suggested they play for money—ten dollars a ball—Toby got serious. He was up two hundred dollars.

  Toby bent low over the table, and set his sights on the eight ball. “Black-eyed Susan in the right corner pocket.”

  The cool wood slid between his fingers a couple of times before he jutted the stick forward, propelling the cue ball across the worn green velvet and connecting with his target. The eight ball clicked against the others already in the pocket.

  “You should just sign over your paycheck,” Toby teased.

  He guessed the look she sent him was supposed to be a glare, but it wasn’t convincing.

  Earlier, Toby had been surprised by her skills. She explained that she had gotten into pool while attending Spelman, when her sorority had played in a competition against one of the Morehouse fraternities. But those skills had rapidly deteriorated when she switched from drinking beer to apple martinis. She probably didn’t realize she was too drunk to do anything more than keep herself upright.

  Her pool skills had not been the only thing affected by the alcohol she had consumed tonight. Sienna’s inhibitions had loosened considerably. Toby was convinced some of the things she had said tonight were straight out of a porno flick. The more inebriated she became, the bolder she had become.

  Like now.

  She sat on the edge of the pool table while he took his next shot, her unbearably short dress inching even higher. Toby’s eyes were drawn to her smooth, delicately muscled thighs
as she crossed her fabulous legs. They glistened as if they had been sprinkled with pixie dust by a fairy hell bent on driving him crazy.

  She leaned over, thrusting her chest out a little, and whispering in his ear, “Make sure you get it in the right hole.”

  Toby nearly missed the cue ball, but his shot still managed to go in.

  Sienna cursed as she scooted off the pool table.

  Now that he’d won most of her money, she was angry, which Toby vastly preferred. Maybe now she would lay off with the suggestive comments that had him ready to crawl out of his skin.

  “Move,” she said, edging past him, and nearly falling over her feet.

  “Whoa, there.” Toby caught her, clenching her curvy waist in his hands.

  The spark of electricity that shot through him was enough to light up all of New Orleans. He had to clench his teeth against the urge to pull Sienna’s body even closer to his. He wanted to feel those curves flush against him, to move his hands from her waist to her backside and pull her close.

  Calm down, boy. He silently chastised the part of his body that was getting way more excited than it should. Toby moved his hands from Sienna’s waist to her shoulders. She looped her arm around his neck, trying to gain purchase.

  “Maybe you…uhh…should sit for a while,” he suggested, his hands burning as they fitted against her slightly warmed skin.

  Sienna raised her gaze to his, searching his face. Her breath was warm and sweet with the scent of her apple-flavored drink.

  “I’m good right here,” she whispered.

  Toby took a breath.

  Then another.

  He could have used a third, but then Sienna pressed her chest against his and he lost all ability to breathe. Toby searched her gaze, finding frank honesty in her bright stare. It would be so easy to make those little fantasies that had been running through his mind hard reality. A couple of inches, and his mouth would be on hers. He could almost taste it, was dying to taste it. Would give anything to taste it. Just this once.

  Instead, Toby gently pushed her away.

  “Hold on there, Cee Cee. I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

  “A couple of beers? That’s not enough to get me drunk.” Her slightly slurred words belied her statement.

  “Maybe not,” Toby answered, “But those martinis did a fine job. I think we should call it a night.”

  A sexy, catlike smile curled the corners of her mouth, and Toby knew he was in trouble. But before she could utter another word, Sienna’s eyes widened and she doubled over, throwing up her dinner and about a liter of alcohol all over the floor.

  ***

  Sienna chanced lifting an eyelid and thought better of it. She had been debating whether or not to wake up for the past half hour. Just the thought of letting in the tiniest hint of light made her head spin and her stomach lurch.

  Why did people drink? Ever?

  She felt as if her entire body was going to stage a revolt any minute now, with the spot just beyond her eyes leading the cavalry, and her throbbing temples acting as seconds in command.

  Sienna groaned, wincing at the effort it took just to turn over on the bed. She couldn’t lie here all day, as much as she wanted to do just that. There was too much to do. Figuring out how she’d made it to her bed was first on the list.

  She vaguely remembered going to Ray’s Rib Shack after leaving the Hard Court with Toby. She was the one who had suggested pool. But why?

  Oh yeah, because that jerk Isaac Payton had clowned Toby and she’d wanted to give him an outlet to release his frustration. She’d been afraid of what he would do if he had gone home and spent the entire night thinking about Payton.

  So why had she gotten sloppy drunk?

  Right. Because Toby had looked so good last night that she couldn’t stand to be near him and not touch him, so she’d used martinis as a way to relieve her frustration.

  Big. Dumb. Stupid. Mistake.

  When had alcohol ever done her any good? The last time she drank more than she should have, she’d nearly been raped. It was a lesson she had never forgotten, until last night.

  Maybe it was because she knew, no matter what, she could trust Toby to never treat her the way that monster, Curtis Henderson, had. But that still didn’t give her license to let her guard down the way she had last night. Mixing Toby and alcohol created an entirely different danger.

  God, she hoped she didn’t do anything embarrassing last night. Just the possibility of some of the thoughts she’d been having about Toby actually coming out of her mouth had Sienna ready to bury her head under the covers and not surface for a year.

  Her phone rang, nearly scaring her heart out of her chest. Sienna reached over and groaned as her head brought the concept of pounding to an entirely new level.

  “Hello,” she croaked.

  “I’m surprised you’re awake,” came a voice tinged with amusement. Her stomach bottomed out at the sound of his low murmur.

  “Barely,” Sienna answered. “Did you put me in bed last night?” How embarrassing that she even had to ask that.

  “I gave you a chance to make it on your own, but you didn’t make it past your kitchen floor. I couldn’t leave you there.”

  “Oh, God. I should have stopped after the first martini.”

  “You should have stopped after the second beer. You should have never started on the martinis. You know you can’t hold your liquor.”

  Sienna nodded her head, as if he could see her agreement through the phone.

  “Do you think you’ll be okay for the meeting with the producers today?” he asked.

  “That’s today?” How could she have forgotten about that?

  “In about two hours,” Toby reminded her.

  Sienna stifled another groan. “All I need is a shower and a gallon of coffee.”

  “Breakfast probably wouldn’t hurt, either. I can bring you some of the grits and eggs Mama cooked this morning.”

  “Oh, shut up, please. I don’t want to be within ten feet of food.”

  “You sure?” Sienna could hear the laughter in his voice. “The eggs were over-easy. You know how good it is when the yoke runs over the grits.”

  She hung up the phone.

  Sienna forced herself to get out of bed and into the shower. They were meeting with the producers of A Week in the Life of a Wannabe Star and the crew that would be shooting Aria’s portion of the show would be arriving to start scouting the area and do preliminary taping for the pre-taped segments that would air between the live broadcasts. This was the time for her to be her most impressive, and here she was with a hangover.

  Sienna dressed and headed toward the aroma of the fresh chicory coffee she’d started brewing before taking her shower. She’d need a Big Gulp-sized cup if she had a chance in hell of making it through today.

  She was never, ever drinking again. Ever.

  ***

  Ivana pulled the wire rope hanging overhead, indicating to the streetcar driver that she would be getting off at the next stop.

  It had been the kind of morning that put her usual positive outlook on life to the test. First, her incense supplier had been unable to fulfill this week’s order, which meant she now had unhappy customers. Then, as she’d been setting up the few supplies she did have available, a leg gave away on her table, sending everything tumbling into the street. Ivana had taken it as a sign and packed up for the day.

  She made good money with her booth in the French Market that ran along the river at the base of the French Quarter, but most of her business came from locals who expected her to supply their incense needs in a timely manner. When her supplier was late, she looked bad. She could not afford to tick off her regulars.

  Of course, if she listened to her mother and found herself a “real” job she wouldn’t have to worry about suppliers with flat tires or angry customers. And it’s not as if it would be hard to find that real job. With a Masters degree in International Finance there were more than enough op
portunities, especially living in one of the busiest port cities in the United States.

  But how could she ever be happy dressed in a suit and carrying a leather briefcase again?

  Corporate America was not in her future, despite her mother’s disapproval. Ivana had lived that life for years, and the only thing she got in return was an ulcer.

  She had reached a tipping point when she’d checked herself into a hospital for exhaustion. Michael, her ex-husband, had criticized her, calling her weak, but Ivana knew it was her body’s way of telling her she could no longer live in that world. It had been divine intervention when the night nurse had approached her, claiming that something about Ivana had called to her. She’d talked to her about the work of the city’s Voodoo, and Ivana knew she’d found her calling.

  She was needed right where she was, fighting for the Cause. The number of people caring for this city’s poor and destitute was far too little as it was. She had to carry on the work of the original Voodoo of New Orleans before the religion died out completely.

  “I’m starting to believe you’re following me.”

  Ivana froze at the sound of the rich baritone. The voice sent a chill down her back despite the day’s blazing sun.

  Had this man planted a GPS on her?

  She turned, and at first sight of him, had to beg her heart to continue beating at a normal rhythm. “Let me set your mind at ease, Mr. Campbell. I am not following you.” Ivana hoped she’d managed to pull off the apathetic expression she was striving for.

  “Then it must be fate,” Jonathan said. He was dressed in a suit that was tailored especially for his incredibly built body. It probably costs more than Ivana made in an entire year selling incense. How could anyone be so wasteful when there were so many needy people in this city?

  “I don’t think it’s fate. More like a string of bad luck.”

  “Ouch.” Jonathan put his hand to his chest. “I see the attitude doesn’t take the weekend off.”