The Setup by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online Page A

toward the door.
    “Until tomorrow night, then.”
    Her words floated softly to him. And then she was gone.
    Jefferson stood there for a moment, just staring at the closed door wondering if he had imagined the whole thing, including Sylvie Marchand. Especially Sylvie Marchand.
    But then he shook his head. No, the woman was real. He hadn’t imagined her. His imagination had never been that creative.
    Turning from the door, he went to phone Blake to let him know that he had arrived. Maybe in more ways than one.

CHAPTER FOUR
    J EFFERSON NODDED his thanks to the bartender—Leo, according to the name tag pinned to his navy blue vest—as the man placed the chunky glass of scotch and soda before him. The man’s face showed more than a little mileage, even in this light. He nodded and withdrew.
    Blake and Jefferson had gotten the last two empty stools at the bar. Tucked away in the far corner of the hotel across from the retail shops, the dimly lit bar was doing brisk business tonight. Tomorrow was the Twelfth Night celebration, the official beginning of the Mardi Gras season, and tourists and natives alike were starting the partying early.
    Soft blue lights played off the surface of his drink, and Jefferson raised the glass to his lips and took a healthy swallow. He could feel the bitter liquid burn its way through his chest down into his stomach. Only then did he turn toward Blake and say what had been burning with equal fervor in his brain.
    “She’s too young for me.”
    Sighing, Blake shook his head. The reason he’d pushed so hard to get Jefferson to come down herefor the reunion in the first place was to counteract this delusion of advancing age his friend seemed to be suffering. Forty-seven was the new thirty-seven, and the last time Blake had looked, thirty-seven was not considered old in anything but dog years.
    He swirled the ice cubes in his glass, listening to them clink against one another. Tipping the glass back, he took a long swallow of the Southern Comfort he’d ordered.
    “Jeffy, I’ve already said this more than once. It’s all in the mind.” To emphasize his point, he brushed his index finger against Jefferson’s temple. “The way you’re acting, Mother Teresa would be too young for you.”
    Jefferson raised his eyes to Blake’s. “Mother Teresa’s dead.”
    “My point exactly.” But that point, he could see, was not piercing the haze around his friend’s brain. He leaned in to Jefferson. Because of the din in the crowded room, he brought his lips close to his friend’s ear. “We only go around once in life, Jeff. You’ve got to loosen up, make the most of it.”
    Resting his drink on the bar, Jefferson placed both hands around it, as if surrounding a thought and trying to contain it. “I already went around once in life, Blake. I got my law degree, married a beautiful woman and had a wonderful daughter with her.” His mouth curved as fond memories rushed back to him. Memories of Donna and falling in love for the first time. The only time. “The way I look at it, I’m way ahead of the average man.”
    He didn’t mean to look at Blake when he said that, but there it was. Blake might be the one whose social book was bursting at the seams, with a different woman coming into play each month or so, like the changing faces of pinups on a calendar, but he’d had the richer life, Jefferson thought. He was the one who had experienced real love.
    And, most importantly, he’d had a family. Blake had only ticket stubs from the various trips he’d gone on, the various clubs he’d visited, the various functions he’d attended. Things like that might have eaten up Blake’s time, but they didn’t create the kind of memories that Jefferson would have wanted for himself.
    “You’re only forty-seven years old, for crying out loud, not a hundred and forty-seven.” For a moment, Blake’s attention seemed to be drawn away by the smile of a blonde, two stools over, who was wearing a very