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By Root 531 0

real, Jack. How in the hell do you expect me to turn my back on this thriving family business? I can’t do it. So what if I spent ten years going to school at night to become an architect after I got my business degree. It’s not something I can work at. We both know that. I know you’ll keep offering me a partnership every week, and every week I’ll have to tell you the same thing: Family obligations prevent me from accepting your kind, generous offer. So, tell me: What are you building these days? On second thought, don’t tell me. I don’t want this headache to get worse. What’s who like? Oh. She’s kind of dumpy—you know, thick around the middle, big feet, hair that stands out like a bush. Pop-bottle glasses. Loves dogs, though. She has a twin in case you’re interested. Your loss, buddy. Ah, how long are you planning on staying in N’awlins? That long! Uh-huh. Make sure you treat my dog good. On second thought, I think I’ll call my friend and tell her to drop Zip off at the house. I left a key with her. What time are you getting in? I’ll time it so he’s only alone for a few minutes. He’s kind of skitzy. Yeah, yeah, that’s what I’ll do. No sense getting her and the dog worked up. Call me if you think the flight is going to be late. Remember, Zip knows how to open the French doors, so keep a sharp eye. No, I’m not trying to pull a fast one on you. What gave you that idea? You must be between women. You’re paranoid. Yeah, yeah. See you in five days.”

One last worry off his shoulders. Kind of. Sort of. More or less. Paul smacked his leg in satisfaction. He didn’t trust Jack Emery any further than he could throw him. When it came to women, Jack was like a wild stud in a harem. Once he set his eyeballs on Josie Dupré it would be all over but the shouting. He raced by his sputtering secretary. “You’ll see me when you see me!”

“What about . . . ? When are you coming . . . ?”

“Deal with it or call André. I’m not taking my beeper, so don’t even think about trying to get hold of me. Maybe I’ll never come back!”

Paul jabbed at the elevator. “That’s the stuff dreams are made of. I’d make a hell of a ski bum. Or a beach bum. On the other hand, I’d make one son of a bitching grade A number one architect,” he mumbled as he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby.

Paul settled himself comfortably in the cab that would take him to the park, where he would do his ten-mile run. He squeezed his eyes shut. He’d never asked for this damn job. He’d never wanted to run the family business. All he ever wanted was to be an architect. He hated tradition and responsibility. He wished, the way he wished every day of his life, that he had an older brother, even a younger brother. Hell, he’d settle for anyone willing to take on his job. His mother had been adamant. As the only son you will take over from your father. He’d given up the best years of his life for his family and the business. When was it his turn? When did he get to do what he wanted to do? Never, that’s when. Sure he had a good life. Sure he could take days off, weeks, sometimes. But he always had to come back to Cajun spices and cornmeal. He had to stew and fret over the restaurants. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a peaceful, contented day. Maybe when he was ten or so. No, that’s when it all started to fall apart.

“Screw it,” he mumbled, tossing the cab driver a twenty-dollar bill. He checked to see that the other twenty was still safe in his pocket. After a ten-mile run he would be in no mood to hike back to his hotel.

He started out slow, building up momentum as he stared straight ahead, his mind refusing to let go of his thoughts. What the hell was wrong with André Hoffauir running Brouillette Enterprises? The guy loved the company, drooled over the Cajun spices and cornmeal, plus he was a natural when it came to the restaurants. He knew every aspect of the business and was family, even if he was a distant cousin. Blood was blood. The problem was Paul’s mother. She’d never give the okay to turn the business over to André when she found out Paul