Mardi Gras by Lacey Alexander (reading the story of the TXT) 📕

the street, and give beads to girls all-too-willing to jiggle their bare breasts for me, then maybe get laid by one of them.

Or maybe I should walk into a store, buy a mask of my own, and pick up girls that way.

Only problem was—none of it sounded any fun. Not the least bit titillating or desirable. Shit, this Mistress Mina thing had hit him hard, harder than he could easily understand. He barely knew her. Why had he cared so much? Why had he wanted so much more of her?

Finishing his dinner, he stuffed his wallet in his pocket, grabbed his keys, and headed for the door, without even knowing where he intended to go.

He set out walking, glad the night was clear and warm—sorry each time he happened upon a group of early revelers getting amped up for the last big party of this year’s festivities. He wanted…he wanted…

Something that felt…safe. Normal. Good.

He wanted to go someplace where he knew there were no worries, where things were easy, comfortable. He could only think of two places that really qualified—Jack and Liz’s place, or Mia’s. He chose Mia, thinking maybe she was lonely, too, given her romantic failure of the weekend just past.

And the closer he got to her apartment, the more right it seemed to hang out with her tonight. Maybe they could just talk, pour their hearts out to each other over a bottle of wine or something. Maybe he’d been foolish all this time—thinking sex was more important than a woman’s personality. Maybe he should try thinking of Mia as more than a friend and see what came of it.

He stopped into a liquor store on the way, grabbing a chilled bottle of Chablis, remembering it was Mia’s wine of choice.

87

Lacey Alexander

Reaching her building, he let himself through the gate that led to the courtyard, walked past the pleasant little fountain that gurgled there, then headed up the neatly whitewashed stairs and down the veranda until he knocked on her door.

She opened it wearing denim shorts, a cute fitted pullover of pale yellow, and a surprised look. “Ty—what’s up?”

Only then did it occur to him to feel slightly sheepish. But he decided to be frank.

“It’s Fat Tuesday and for the first time in my life, I don’t want to spend it partying. I just want to hang out with a friend, drink some wine or something.” He held up the bottle.

“You up for it?”

She blinked. Looked confused. He started to regret coming. Maybe she was busy.

Or maybe he seemed desperate.

But then she smiled. “Sure. Yeah. Come in.” She stood back to offer him entry.

He hesitated slightly. “You didn’t have any big plans for the evening, did you?”

“Me? No. I’m not…you know…much of a partier.”

“Except with tattooed guys,” he said with a grin.

She laughed. “Yeah, except for them.” Before closing the door, she glanced down toward the courtyard, which was quiet and empty, other than some Zydeco music coming from someone’s window, loud enough at the moment to override the sounds of Mardi Gras on the streets beyond. “Hey, do you want to sit outside and drink? It’s nice out—warm.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Sounds good.”

“Let me grab some glasses and a corkscrew from the kitchen. And I have a couple of folding lawn chairs in my bedroom, in the closet, if you want to go get them.” He said, “Sure,” set his wine bottle on a table next to the door, and headed off in search of chairs as Mia went in the other direction.

88

Mardi Gras

Entering her bedroom, he made a beeline for the closet—but was stopped dead in his tracks by what lay on her dresser. Two Mardi Gras masks. One in black with silver cording. The other of purple sequins with dangling beads.

He actually blinked, hard, then opened his eyes again, somehow thinking he’d see them differently.

But no—they were the same. The same very familiar masks. He picked up both in one hand, his stomach wrenching painfully as he tried to make sense of it. Which is when it hit him. Mina. Mia. Mina. Mia.

All along, he’d had the bizarre feeling of knowing her, although maybe at the time he’d perceived it more as wanting to know her. But now, as it all slowly became clear to him…damn, how could it be?

How could his sweet Mia have been Mistress Mina?

My God, the intimate acts they’d indulged in together! The things he’d let her do to him!

Along with the general shock of finding out his seductress had been Mia came the surprise of discovering that apparently she wasn’t the sweet, docile girl he’d always thought. Tim’s little sister, the girl Ty had always wanted to protect, look out for.

Apparently, it was the other way around— he needed protection from her.

Feelings of humiliation, stupidity, and anger warred within him. His hands curled into fists as his body tensed. Why the fuck would she do this to him? Why would she lie, pretend?

“Ty, did you find the chairs okay?” Her voice grew closer as she spoke, until she walked into the room. “They’re behind…”

Her eyes fell on the masks he held. She went pale, still, and they stared at each other for a long, strange moment.

“Why?” he boomed at her. “Why the hell did you do it?” Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open, but nothing came out.

89

Lacey Alexander

“Why, Mia? Or is that Mina? Why did you lie to me? Answer me, damn it.”

“I…I can explain.” She looked panicky, shaky. He thought she sure as hell should.

“Well, start talking.”

Shudders ran the entire length of Mia’s body. How had she been so stupid, letting him come in here? He’d shown up at her door unexpected, and she hadn’t even thought… Oh God. She’d just said she could explain, but could she? “I…I… God, Ty, I just…wanted to be with you.”

He looked incredulous, and she couldn’t blame him. “So you thought it would be clever to put on a mask and a wig and make me think you were somebody