Chapter Text
Jade had known that Grandpa had been sick.
She’d known for months, though she had made a point of knowing very little beyond that. There had been letters, which she left unopened on the mantle.
She told herself this was a kindness. Better he remember her as she had been than what she was now.
The truth is she had been terrified of him—terrified of what she might do when she saw him. Smelled him. She feared she would look at her grandfather and see not the man who raised her but a piece of meat. So she stayed away.
But now he’s gone, and she’s finding out from the lawyer on her doorstep in a black suit, who offers her a letter with her grandfather's signiature.
It was a humid June morning, and grandpa was dead. His house—his mansion—was hers now.
The lawyer did not linger for long.
There were of course papers to sign, condolences to offer, and a great many things Jade was meant to understand about estates, investments, and property. She could feel her eyes glaze over when the lawyer began to explain them over the hum of his automobile idling outside. When he left, she realized the letter was still in her hand.
Grandpa's handwriting stared back at her.
She set it gently on the table, face down. She’d read it later.
She packed her meager belongings into a bag and left.
By nightfall, Jade is back in New Orleans.
Even after the sun had gone, it is still sweltering. The heat clings to Jade's skin as she steps onto the street, thick with the smell of the river and something sweet and cloying. A streetcar rattles somewhere farther away as people spill out onto the sidewalks dressed in evening clothes. Women laugh from beneath cloche hats, and men gather in clots to smoke. Music drifts out of open doorways into the night. Jade pulls her overcoat tighter around herself and keeps walking.
She finds herself outside a speakeasy only a few blocks away, intrigued by soft music and clamor of voices. The door's tucked away, almost private. Inside, a band is playing something lively. Beneath the music, Jade can distinguish the din of voices from the clinking of glasses. Dancing feet beat a steady rhythm against the floor.
She hesitates just inside the door. The room is crowded, smoke wafting through the air. No one seems to notice her, too wrapped up in their own lives.
She finds a seat in a dark corner at the end of the bar, setting her bag down on the bartop.
Jade watches the patrons for a while. A woman at a table laughs so hard she nearly spills her drink. Her companion catches the glass, smiling fondly at her, and she playfully swats his hand away. Jade finds herself smiling at the interaction with a pang in her chest that eventually becomes too much. She tears her eyes away, suddenly incredibly aware of the heat in the room. She takes several steadying breaths of smoky bar air.
She keeps her eyes trained on the bartop as the band picks up in volume, the trumpet and clarinet trading phrases, their voices nearly drowned out by the percussion and the stomping of feet. It’s nearly overwhelming, but Jade had wanted this, needed to be out of her own head for once, so she let it wash over her.
She looks up when she hears footsteps approaching from the other side of the bar, eyes narrowing a bit as she tracks the bartender. When they make eye contact, he finally speaks.
“You know, most people come here to drink.”
She tilts her head to look up at him from her stool, forcing herself to straighten. He’s got messy blonde hair that's slightly damp from the heat. Strangely, he’s wearing dark-tinted glasses, so much so that she can barely see his eyes. Jade wonders why he’s wearing them inside, and at night no less.
Belatedly, she realizes he’s waiting for an answer. Her mouth goes dry, but she manages to get out, “I don’t drink much.”
The man looks at her for a moment. It's difficult to read his expression behind his cheaters, but she thinks he’s puzzled.
“This is a bar, you know,” he says.
She tilts her head at him. “Yes?”
Dave can’t help but be intrigued by the strange woman sitting at his bar. She’d come in lugging a bag nearly as big as she was, her form almost fully obscured by a large black overcoat. She is otherwise unassuming, save for her piercing, almost predatory green eyes. The main issue, though, is that she hasn’t ordered anything, and he has a business to run.
He waits a moment for her to elaborate, looking at the empty space in front of her. She does not.
“So,” he finally says, “are you planning on ordering anything?”
“Do I need to?”
Dave thinks she might be messing with him, but she seems so completely genuine. It’s almost endearing. He glances around the room at the other patrons. “That’s usually how it goes, yeah.”
She appears to think for a moment. “What do people usually order?”
Dave chuffs. “Depends. Beer, whiskey, gin…” He gestures at the shelves behind him. “You want something sweet?”
She smiles, grasping onto that idea. “Sure. Whatever you recommend is fine!”
He gives a small nod and turns to the shelves. She watches as he deftly scoops ice into a shaker before adding a measure of liquor.
“You new in town?” He asks over his shoulder.
“I grew up here, actually!”
He eyes her curiously. “Really? Haven’t seen you around.”
She sighs. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t have.”
Dave wonders if she's being cryptic on purpose, or this is just how she talks. “Um," he says. "Welcome back then.” He sets her drink down in front of her. “Here. Let me know what you think.”
Jade looks down at the glass. She hadn’t exactly enjoyed alcohol when she was alive, and her appetite has almost completely diminished since. Still, she lifts the glass to her mouth and pretends to take a sip, offering him a small approving smile.
“Good,” he says, turning to another customer.
Jade finds herself watching him as he works, enraptured by the easy way he talks to customers. She realizes that when he was talking to her, she had almost forgotten herself, like some small bit of unrest that existed constantly within her had been soothed.
The room is still noisy, but it feels lonely. She waits only a bit longer before deciding she's had enough for one night.
Dave looks up just as she disappears out the door, a cascade of dark hair escaping her oversized coat. He finds too much money beside her glass, frowning at it a moment before pocketing it. Weird.
Jade spends the rest of her night pacing her grandfather’s too-large house. She still can’t think of it as hers. Not when everything about it is so clearly Grandpa. It seems like no one has changed a thing since she was a little girl. It doesn’t feel as familiar and comforting as she’d like. Instead, she feels like a ghost in her childhood home.
When the sun goes down the next evening, Jade can’t get out of the house fast enough.
She walks the streets of New Orleans without any particular destination in mind. Still, she finds herself on a familiar street. She blinks at the door in mild surprise. She could go elsewhere, but something draws her in. She pushes open the door, and is met with music and clinking and laughter.
Dave looks up when the door opens, expecting another customer. He feels his eyebrows raise when he recognizes the strange woman from the night before. She seems to have changed to a silk dress or skirt, but it's difficult to tell beneath the bulk of her coat. He watches as she makes her way to the bar, considerably less hesitant than she’d been the night before.
After picking through the crowd, she takes the same seat she’d had the night before. He rounds the bar to her.
“Back again?”
She looks up at him with wide eyes. “Yes.”
He begins preparing something behind the bar. “Same as last time?”
“Yes.”
He pauses. She didn’t exactly seem to enjoy it last night. Then again, maybe she’d just been nervous. “You liked it?”
Jade realizes she did like it, in a way. She liked the idea of going to the bar for a drink; something about it was so human. “It was nice,” she says.
Dave shrugs, giving her an amused look as he finishes her drink. “So,” he says, “what brings you back?”
“My grandfather died,” she says simply. “I inherited his house.”
Dave freezes, arm half retracted. “Oh,” he says lamely. Then, seeming to realize that’s not what one should say, he tacks on, “I’m sorry.”
Jade nods, any awkwardness regarding the subject matter apparently lost on her. “Thank you.”
Normally, Dave wouldn’t pry. Then again, normally people just tell him things, especially with a few drinks in their systems. “You were close?”
Jade smiles sadly. “He raised me.”
“Oh,” he says softly.
“Do you work here every night?” She asks before he can fully respond.
“Most nights,” he says, following the conversation she’s laying before him. He grins. “Why, you planning on making this a regular thing?”
Jade finds herself flushing for some reason at that. “Maybe.”
His smile widens. “I’ll hold you to that.” His eyes catch on her coat. It must be ninety degrees in here. “You planning on taking this thing off?” He asks, gesturing towards the long sleeves.
Jade nods, as though the concept of removing one's coat, or perhaps being hot in general, has only just occurred to her. She slips it from her shoulders, revealing the black silk dress underneath. Dave finds himself looking a moment longer than he means to, eyes catching on the line of her shoulders and how the silk catches the light.
If Jade notices his eyes lingering, she doesn’t address it, simply folding her coat over the back of her chair.
“You know,” he says after a moment, “I never got your name.”
“It’s Jade.”
“Dave,” he responds. His stomach flips when she repeats it back to him. “So, Jade,” he says, leaning on the bar, “what do you do?”
Technically, Jade thinks, she does nothing. She’s not able to work a normal day job, and Grandpa’s inheritance makes it so that isn’t exactly a concern. Still, she answers as honestly as she can. “I’m a botanist,” she says.
He whistles lowly. “Botanist. Sounds fancy.”
“It’s not really fancy,” she says. “I study plants.”
“Yeah, I figured,” he says facetiously. Then, “What kind of plants?”
“Local ecology, mostly. Louisiana has very interesting flora.”
“Like what?”
“I’ve been doing some reading on cypress swamps. They alter the water around them, and a bunch of stuff relies on them for shelter!”
Dave can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “So the trees tell the water what to do?”
“Sort of! Their roots hold the soil together, and they slow the water down. It changes the whole environment around them. Fish and birds use the roots and branches for shelter!”
“Huh,” he says, caught on the way her eyes seemed to light up. “Cool.”
“What about you?” She asks.
Dave blinks. “What about me?”
“What do you do when you’re not here?”
“Mostly this,” he says. “My brother owns the place.”
She tilts her head. “Do you like it?”
He glances around the room. “Yeah. Music’s not bad. And the people are usually interesting.”
She looks around as though confirming his statement. “I suppose they are.”
He looks back over her. “Including you.”
Jade blinks. “Am I?”
“Well, you’ve come two nights in a row and didn’t actually drink anything.”
“I like having it,” she says honestly.
He looks between her and the glass. “Fair enough.”
Before Jade knows it, the band is winding down and patrons are filing out, and she realizes she doesn’t want to leave.
Dave begins clearing the last few glasses from the bar. When he turns back, he finds her still sitting there, coat folded beside her.
“We’re closing up,” he says.
She nods, reluctantly reaching for her coat.
“See you tomorrow?”
Jade pauses. “Tomorrow?”
“You said you were making this a regular thing.”
“Oh.” She smiles. “Okay.”