Bohemian Girl (Southern Girl Series Book 1) Read online

  I reread the message and add a heart emoji to the end of the sentence before hitting send. “Done.”

  “You know, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to make a three-way call with Lawrence when Oliver calls you. The pay phone number wouldn’t show up on her caller ID if you make the three-way connection using his cell phone.”

  Damn. I can’t believe neither of us considered that before Oliver left a week ago.

  “That’s actually a really great idea.” I’m sure that hearing Oliver’s voice would take some pressure off me for a while.

  “I assume he’ll call you on your phone but it’s no big deal. He can make up something about why he’s calling from your number. She won’t think anything of it as long as next week’s call comes from his phone.”

  “It’s a brilliant plan.”

  Porter’s eyelids look like they each weigh a ton. He’s struggling so hard to keep them open. “You should go to your office and grab a little shut-eye. Even an hour would help you feel refreshed.”

  Porter jerks at the sound of my voice and opens his eyes. “Can’t. Got too much to do.”

  He gets up almost in slow motion and stretches. “I’m all good as long as I’m up and going. I’m due a second wind any minute now.”

  “Whatever you say. But don’t exhaust yourself to the point that you’re shit for the festival.” I’m already short one partner. I can’t afford for another to check out on me too.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be in top shape this weekend.”

  I feel bad for the guy. He’s under so much stress.

  Porter stops in my doorway when I call out his name. “I’m not a brew guy but let me know if you need help with anything. I can follow directions.”

  “Thanks. My new assistant starts in the morning, but I’ll give you a shout if I need an extra hand.”

  “Have you met him yet?”

  “No, but Molly thought he was the best candidate for the job.”

  Molly has an amazing bullshit meter, which means she also has an affinity for hiring good employees. “I’m not worried then.”

  After Porter’s gone, I return to work on the inventory numbers, but my eyes keep darting to Oliver’s phone every few minutes. It hasn’t alerted with an incoming text, but I press the home button to check anyway.

  Lawrence Thorn has captured my attention, which means I’m the one sitting here unable to concentrate on work while waiting for a reply text from her. Pathetic. Fucking pathetic since she believes that she’s texting with her brother.

  I can’t concentrate on the numbers, so I convince myself it’s a good idea to scroll through Oliver’s old texts with his sister. I need to learn how I should reply to her in the future. At least that’s what I tell myself.

  Within minutes, I learn one thing about Lawrence Thorn: she has a colorful sense of humor and enjoys a good laugh. In fact, she’s quite funny.

  I’m still running through the texts between Oliver and Lawrence when my own phone rings. I don’t recognize the number so it has to be Oliver. “Lucas Broussard here.”

  “Hey, Lucas.”

  “Oliver. I’m glad to hear from you. How’s it going?”

  He sighs heavily. “Can’t lie. This week’s been shit.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “At least my counselor is easy on the eyes.”

  I take another look at the photo of Lawrence and her friends. “Yeah. A pretty woman is always a plus.”

  “I’m doing better than everyone else in this place.”

  “Are you in with hardcore addicts?”

  “Oh yeah. The patients in this place are blowing my mind.”

  “It doesn’t sound like a place you need to be.”

  “I wouldn’t be if I had another choice. But the good news is that I have a lot of time on my hands when I’m not in a session, and I’ve been thinking about ways to expand the company. We have a lot to talk about when I get out.”

  “I’m eager to hear your new ideas.”

  “How have things gone with my sister this week?”

  Well, shit with nuts in it. I was hoping we could skip that conversation. “We have a small situation.”

  “What kind of small situation?”

  “I may have missed replying to a few of her texts.”

  “How many is a few? ’Cause I’m doubting you mean three.”

  “I’m not sure. Ten?” That’s probably greatly underestimating it. “Maybe fifteen. But no more than twenty for sure.”

  “That’s not a situation. It’s a catastrophe.” Oliver mutters a few obscenities. “Is Lawrence freaking out?”

  I don’t think sending a picture of yourself with friends at the beach drinking beer constitutes freaking out.

  “No, but she has called and left several messages asking you to call her back. I think it would be a good idea if you did. We can call her three-way and my number will be the one to show up. You can tell her you had to use my phone. If she calls back, she’ll get me, not some random person walking by the pay phone. Next Sunday we’ll do it again using your phone.”

  “I guess that would work.”

  “I should catch you up before we call. She’s at Tybee Island today with Ivy and Kelsey. She texted a picture of them at the beach drinking Pale Hazels. Porter says they do that a lot.”

  Oliver laughs. “Yeah. They’re always clowning around like that.”

  “Well, these clowns are wearing bikinis.”

  “I’m missing out on seeing Ivy and Kelsey in bikinis? That sucks.”

  I pick up his phone and look at the picture again. “Trust me. Nothing about this picture sucks.”

  “Shut up, dude. My sister is in that picture.”

  “You never told me your sister was so…”

  “So what?”

  I recall what Porter said about Oliver being overprotective of Lawrence, and I decide to forgo the use of the word hot. “Pretty.”

  “You think my sister is pretty?”

  “Yeah.” Among a lot of other things I don’t dare mention.

  “I know you and I’m certain that pretty is a substitute for a different word you’re thinking. So keep your eyeballs in your head when it comes to Lawry. As far as you’re concerned, she’s prohibited. Forbidden fruit. Untouchable.”

  “You seem to have a very low opinion of me when it comes to women, but let me tell you something. I’ve never been a man who toys with women’s feelings and I still don’t. I’m clear with any woman who comes into my bed. It’s sex and nothing more.”

  “Which is fine as long as my sister doesn’t join your harem.”

  I wonder what the hell he thinks I could do to his sister given that I’m here and she’s in Savannah. My cock’s impressive but it doesn’t reach Georgia.

  “Anything else you need to tell me?” Oliver asks.

  I’ve had so little communication with Lawrence this week, there’s nothing to tell. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then let’s make this call.”

  Lawrence’s phone is already ringing when I switch over to connect Oliver. “You’re there?”

  “I’m here.”

  One ring. Two. Three. “Hello?”

  “Hey, sis. Is this a bad time? You still at the beach with Ivy and Kelsey?”

  “You little shit. I’ve been trying to reach you for days. Why haven’t you called me?”

  “I have called you. Just now.”

  “You know what I mean, ass monkey.”

  I read Lawrence’s texts to her brother and thought she was funny, but hearing her smart-ass mouth is so much more entertaining.

  “I’ve been super busy with the festival. Every free minute I’ve had has gone to preparing for it.”

  Lawrence hesitates. “I know you’re busy, but I’ve been worried because you haven’t responded to half of my texts. And the ones you’ve sent didn’t sound like you at all.”

  “I’m sorry, Lawry. I don’t know what to say except that I’ve been swamped with work.”


  “I understand but please don’t ignore me again. I don’t like it.”

  “I promise to not ignore you but I need you to bear with me. I’m having some phone trouble and had to order a new one. I won’t get it for a couple of days so don’t be worried if you can’t get me.”

  “Whose phone are you using now?”

  “My business partner’s. You can call this number in case of an emergency.”

  “Lucas Broussard? The partner I’ve never met?”

  “Don’t act as though that’s my fault. You’d have met Lucas years ago if you ever left your business long enough to come and visit me.”

  “You’re one to talk, Ollie. You never come home.”

  “I come twice a year, which is two times more a year than you come to Birmingham.”

  “That’s not by choice. You know how much work it is running your own business.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Who knows? Maybe I’ll surprise you one day soon and pop into Birmingham for a visit.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “All right. I guess we’ll see then, won’t we?”

  “How is the witchery shop?”

  Witchery shop?

  “You can be such a sack of assholes sometimes.”

  “Maybe, but I’m actually being serious. How is business?”

  “No complaints except my landlord raised my rent another two hundred bucks. Greedy bastard.”

  “But you’re okay, right?”

  “I’m fine. Just two hundred bucks poorer every month but what can I do? I’m in a prime location.”

  “You’d tell me if you weren’t all right?”

  “Of course. Sales have been up every quarter since I moved the shop to River Street. It was a great decision to relocate. You wouldn’t believe the tourist traffic I get.”

  “I guess the drunks finish the ghost tour and want to buy some voodoo supplies before they leave the market.”

  “There you go with your assholery again.”

  “You know I’m playing because I want you to smile. And be happy.”

  “I am happy. Really.”

  “Business aside, what about your personal life?”

  “Single and loving it. I do what I want, whenever I like. No one to answer to and I like it that way.”

  You and me both, Lawrence Thorn. You and me both.

  “How are you?”

  Oliver hesitates for a moment, and I’m not sure if he’s going to answer his sister.

  “Not great.”

  “I thought as much. Have you seen or heard from Eden?”

  “You mean since the night I walked in on her fucking another man in my bed?”

  Whoa. I didn’t know the shit had gone down that way between Oliver and his ex.

  “I should put a curse on her. Make every stringy red strand of her badly dyed hair fall out.”

  A curse?

  “You shouldn’t say things like that. If something bad happened to Eden, I’d wonder if you and your magical trinkets had a hand in it.”

  “I was kidding, Ollie. Remember the law of attraction. Positive attracts positive. Negative attracts negative. So have faith. Karma will take care of Eden.”

  “And I’ll be in the front row enjoying the show.”

  “Don’t let it bring you too much joy. Instead, surround yourself with positivity and rise above it.”

  “Right. I need to run but I’ll try to give you a call next Sunday after things settle down with the festival. And please don’t worry if I don’t reply to your texts this week. It’s going to be a really busy week.”

  “I understand.”

  “Love you, sis.”

  “Love you, too. Try to enjoy the festival. Don’t run yourself ragged and miss out on all the fun.”

  “You got it. Talk soon.”

  I think I hear the sound of Lawrence ending the call but I keep quiet. If anyone is going to screw this up, it’s going to be Oliver. Not me.

  “You still there, Lawry?” Oliver asks.

  No reply.

  “We’re all clear.”

  “What is up with your sister?”

  Oliver chuckles. “If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me that.”

  “Seriously.”

  “Lawry is a lot of things: free-spirited, bohemian, alternative. She has a lot of thoughts and practices that some people find odd.”

  “Are you talking about witchcraft and voodoo?” I’m from Louisiana. I know a lot about that kind of shit, and I don’t like any of it.

  “My sister doesn’t dabble in the craft or magic. However, she is into unconventional things like auras, holistic healing, aromatherapy, and herbalism. She’s a huge believer in the power of positive thinking. Cause and effect. Karma, as you heard. Stuff like that. All innocent.”

  “So she’s bohemian?”

  “I’m not sure any one label fits Lawry. Just when you think you know her inside out, she shows you a completely different side you didn’t expect. She’s ever-changing.”

  She’s independent and driven to be successful, yet she’s a carefree nonconformist. What an intriguing combination. And frankly, I’m a little captivated by her.

  Sorry, Oliver. I know you said Lawrence is off-limits but I’m thinking it might be time to pay our Savannah customers a visit. And perhaps a gorgeous bohemian sister too.

  4

  Lawrence Thorn

  I knock but don’t see a single light through the window of Ollie’s apartment. I’m certain that is his pickup in one of the parking spaces and his motorcycle parked under the breezeway.

  Maybe he’s out with friends? Because it’s way too early for him to be in bed.

  Good thing I have a key. Unless he changed the locks after Hurricane Eden. If that’s the case, I’ll be forced to blow my surprise visit.

  I turn my key in the deadbolt and push the door open, praying that I’m not about to walk in on him in bed with someone. “Ollie?”

  The only response I get is a beeping signal warning me to the thirty seconds I have to disarm the alarm before the siren is tripped. “Shit, Ollie. I hope you haven’t changed the code since I was here.”

  I open the cover of the keypad. One. One. One. One. November eleventh. My birthday.

  Whew. Success. That was going to be a hard one to explain when the po-po showed up.

  I flip on the light and can’t believe my eyes. Shit, I know Ollie wasn’t aware that I was coming, but this place is trashed. It looks like it did back in his college days when he and Porter were throwing parties every night.

  He’s made a lot of money the last few years. I don’t know why he hasn’t moved out of this shithole. He should be living in a nice neighborhood in a house fit for a successful businessman.

  My God, why is it so hot and stuffy in here? It’s suffocating. Is the air conditioning on the fritz?

  The temperature on the controller says seventy-six degrees. Seventy-six fucking degrees. Who sets their thermostat that high during July in Alabama?

  I guess Ollie’s at the venue setting up for the kickoff of the festival tomorrow. His absence blows my plan for breaking the news to him tonight about Christie. I had hoped to get that out of the way as soon as possible.

  I have no idea what time to expect Ollie, so I change into my comfies and plant myself on the sofa. I curl up with my current read. Four chapters later, Ollie still hasn’t shown. This impromptu visit isn’t going the way I planned at all.

  I can’t chance being mistaken for an intruder, so I scribble a note to place on the front door.

  Hey, loser. Surprise! I’m sleeping in your guest room so don’t go full-on kung fu fighting on me when you notice someone in your apartment.

  Love, Lawry

  I wake to an empty house and no response to my text, which of course, worries me. Surely, Ollie didn’t stay out all night. He needs sleep. The festival starts midday, and I’m sure that it won’t end until well into the night. Guess our surprise reunion wi
ll have to happen at the festivities. Not what I planned.

  My stomach growls, reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve eaten. I go to Ollie’s kitchen expecting problems. I cross my fingers but my hopes are low for all-natural peanut butter and an organic apple.

  I begin in the pantry and yikes. Pickings are slim. And no peanut butter at all.

  I move my search to the fridge. I hope that all my preaching about pesticides and chemicals used on food has sunk into Ollie’s thick skull but no such luck. What the hell is going on here?

  A few bottles and jars of condiments in the door. Some canned biscuits. A few slices of cheese in plastic wrappers. Processed food. Yuck. Is this how my brother survives? I see my lectures have done zero good, so we’re going to have a serious in-service to reinforce the importance of nourishment.

  You’d think someone who spent the majority of his childhood with too little to eat would keep his kitchen full of healthy food. I know I do.

  “Aww, man. Potted meat on crackers again, Lawry?”

  “I’m tired of it too but it’s all we have, Ollie. I promise I’ll try to bring home an apple or orange from school tomorrow.”

  “Can I have a banana? I haven’t had one in so long. And chocolate milk? Please?”

  “I promise I’ll try.”

  Fruit was a pretty easy steal. The cafeteria workers didn’t notice when an extra piece went missing. The chocolate milk, however, was a challenge. I’m pretty sure they knew I was stealing it, but who’s going to tell an undernourished little girl in filthy clothes she can’t have a carton of milk?

  Not my best childhood memory.

  I close the refrigerator door. “God, this kitchen is depressing me. I need to get out of here.”

  I’m showered and decked out in my maxi skirt and Iron City tee an hour later. My top started out as a boxy men’s shirt so I had no choice but to put my special design on it with scissors. It’s a work of art now.

  “Shit, I’m starving.” Cafe. Vegan. Birmingham. “Let’s see what kind of food Google can find for me.”

  Not a long list but I see a definite contender. “You, Cafe 205, are within walking distance. I choose you.” I could definitely use a little exercise after my long drive yesterday.