Under the Bayou Moon Read Free Page A

way of making her question herself.
    Not that the Palermos had been bad. They’d been wonderful parents, but when she smiled and her dimples showed, she couldn’t help but wonder if her biological mother had those same dimples. When she got nervous and her body got all cold and clammy, she wondered if she’d gotten that trait from her biological father. And the rough circle of skin at the base of her spine…well, she wouldn’t think about that particular trait. She’d grown up in a casino. It was an unorthodox yet loving environment. She’d gone to college, had boyfriends and lovers. For all intents and purposes, she was happy and well-adjusted, or so she thought.
    She and Michael sometimes had knockdown, drag-out fights, like most siblings she supposed. Yet all in all, she was normal…So why did it all seem so fake to her? As if she was living someone else’s life.
    The doors to the elevator opened, and two blonde waitresses in grass skirts and coconut bras stepped off, chatting and whispering. They immediately straightened up when they noticed her. The smiles they pasted on their faces were as fake as the silicone implants threatening to spill out of their coconut shells.
    “Hi, Miss Palermo,” they greeted her in unison.
    Angel nodded curtly to both women, careful not to show her distaste at the amount of fake breasts they were exposing.
    She hated the new outfits the waitresses were now wearing. They were cheap and tacky in her opinion. However, Michael was partially running the show now. When he said he wanted to get more involved in day-to-day decision making, Angel knew she would regret it, but what could she do? Not only was he her partner, he was also her baby brother. She wanted him to become more responsible, and she’d promised their dad she’d watch out for him. She stepped back a bit a let him have his way with a few minor changes.
    Michael decided to make it his priority to bring more business their way. No matter how much she tried to persuade him otherwise. He would not relent when it came to the costume changes for the lounge girls, saying they needed something to attract the customers. The more skin showing the better was his motto. Angel gritted her teeth in memory before boarding the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor.
    The women turned and glanced at her before giggling.
    “Stuck up bitch,” she heard one of them say before giggling again.
    Angel was used to snide remarks. She wasn’t the type to be overly friendly with the staff. Her goal was to be courteous and fair, but she deliberately kept her distance. Some employees didn’t understand the need for boundaries, so they talked about her. For the most part, she didn’t mind; it came with the territory. Managing people was a tough job. What she did mind was mean-spirited disrespect. She’d always had really good hearing. Sometimes it was a blessing and sometimes it was a curse. Angel just wasn’t in the mood to let things slide. She’d see that both women were collecting their final pay by the end of the day. She never forgot a face and she didn’t take outright insults well. They’d learn that fact the hard way before they left.
    •●•
    Jacques Bertrand studied the man pacing before him with hooded eyes. He hated cowards, and Michael Palermo reeked of it. Michael was obviously a rich, pampered, pretty boy with poor self-control, a fact that happened to work to Jacques’s benefit.
    It almost seemed unreal that as his thirtieth bayou moon approached, things seemed to finally be looking up for him.
    “I just need to umm, speak with my sister about this.”
    “Is she aware that I now own your share of the Tiki Grand?”
    Michael turned red and fidgeted behind the large wooden desk, which looked too mature for him. He was of average height, with tan skin and ebony hair. His clothes looked expensive yet disheveled, and unless his senses were playing tricks on him, Michael Palermo was a tad bit high.
    “Since she