Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“No, no. I need backup.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m off duty,” I informed him.
“No such thing,” Lang stated, hand on the small of my back as he did his usual and steered me through the crowd toward his father, who stood up from the table as soon as he saw us approaching. I hadn’t paid much attention earlier, but his burgundy suit was absolutely stunning with his glossy black wingtips. In contrast, his wife, Selah, gave off a far more bohemian vibe with her linen palazzo pants, oversize blouse with a tank top underneath, and gladiator sandals. Drea dressed much the same, her long tunic top blending in well with her wide-leg capris. But whereas Selah had her long hair styled up with a headwrap, Drea wore hers in butterfly locs.
“Your hair is beautiful,” I complimented her.
“Oh, thank you,” she said as we shook hands and she held on a bit too long. “My father said you’re a marshal like Langston, that you’re actually his partner.”
“I am. It’s my job to watch his back when he kicks down the doors.”
We met Ford then, Duke’s second-born son after Lang, and then Maynard.
“Congratulations on Juilliard,” I told him. “That’s amazin’. I hope you love New York.”
“Have you been?”
“Once very briefly to transfer a witness. I’d like to go back, though. It’s nice that y’all are drivin’. That’ll be a fun trip.”
Duke walked away then to say hello to someone who’d called his name.
“Your family has been very welcoming,” Selah told Lang. “Most of all, your mother. I didn’t remember that about her.” She stared at him as she spoke, and I felt like she wanted him to say something.
“What is it that your mother is always tellin’ us?” I prodded him.
His gaze locked with mine for a long moment, and then he looked back at her. “My mother says that everything happens for a reason. She calls it God’s plan.”
Selah nodded.
“Well,” he continued, “I don’t know about God, but certainly the universe knows what it’s doing.”
“What do you mean?”
“My mother could not have made a life with a musician. Far too many variables. She likes things planned. Bills paid on time, the mortgage, money put into a 401(K), and of course, a community of people around her built over years.”
Selah listened to him.
“What you did before you got the place in New Orleans, being on the road,” he rumbled, his voice as warm as his eyes, “no, ma’am, not with her kids.”
“It was very hard in the beginning, but now we have a home base, have for the last ten years, so that’s been great.”
“Good. It’s clear you and Duke were meant to be, and so my mom made her peace with him going. It doesn’t mean she’s unhappy you’re only visiting,” he finished with his wicked grin that made everyone, even Selah now, stare at him in open-mouthed wonder.
It happened to him a lot. He bespelled all kinds of people in the course of a day. I knew. I was the one walking beside him, having to remind people to chew, or put down the coffee cup, or not walk into a wall.
And yes, without question, Selah’s children were very attractive, but Talia was a goddess, and her brother, whom I was head over heels for, was stunning. And with Lang, what added to his allure was the easy charm and how special you felt when you had all his attention. Maybe Duke was like that too, or had been once.
“Well,” she said, a bit breathless, which could’ve been strange since she was, after all, his stepmother, but since they had no relationship, she was simply a woman in momentary thrall to the virile man in front of her. “We have to be on the road soon. I’m so glad to have met you and your sister.”
He couldn’t say I feel the same or the feeling’s mutual or any other prosaic thing one said in response because it would have been a lie. Lang tried hard to never be insincere because it bothered him when people were fake with him. So instead he murmured, “Thank you,” because being polite was always good manners.
Duke returned then, and motioned behind him. “I had my old friend Charlie come on by to say hello. Do you remember him?”
Lang smiled. “Remember him? Del and I just went to his grandson Tito’s class when they had their career day to talk about being marshals.”
“Yes, you did,” Charles Blanchard said. He was one of Etta’s oldest friends, along with his wife, Denise, who I noticed was standing with Talia and Ethan, and he slipped around Duke and hugged us. “You were a big hit, boys,” he praised us. “My grandson was very happy, and I was his hero.”
“You have grandchildren?” Duke asked him.
“He has seven,” Lang told his father.