Charlie immediately backed away, keeping one eye warily on Grayson, who hadn't moved after the man had said her name. He was still trying to stop his nose from bleeding, and she felt a small flare of vicious pride. 

That feeling served to chase away the last of her shock. A thousand memories re-framed themselves in her head. She hadn't known him any better than he had known her.

Her hip and shoulder were throbbing from where they had met the concrete, but of the two of them, he certainly looked the worst for their encounter. Flipping her hair out of her way, she looked up at her unintentional rescuer and said, "Yeah. Who are you?"

"Mr. Robicheaux sent me. For reasons beyond me, he seemed to think you might need some help." The man glanced at Grayson disdainfully before turning back to Charlie and eyeing her now ripped jeans. "I do hope you weren't planning on wearing that to meet with him."

Charlie's mouth gaped open, her mind buzzing and blank. Then, she shook her head. "Mr. Robicheaux?"

The man grimaced, then said, "Remi."

"He sent you?" she asked, frowning deeply. "Sent you to what? Make sure I wasn't going to stand him up?"

A shiver skittered its way up her spine. If this was some sort of strange headhunting, he was certainly being aggressive about it. Still racking her brain, she couldn't decide what Remi could possibly do that would lead to any kind of suitable opportunity for her.  

The man leveled intense brown eyes on her, giving her a once-over that was distinctly distasteful. Charlie raised an eyebrow, arms crossing over her chest defensively, Grayson all but forgotten. 

That was, until he opened his mouth. "Look man, we're a little busy here. So if you don't mind—"

"I do mind, unfortunately," he cut in with efficiency. In fact, everything about this man screamed efficiency, from his neatly trimmed hair to his shined shoes.

Charlie looked between the two men, then looked down to find a bruise slowly forming on her arm. She hadn't realized that Grayson had grabbed her there. It made her grimace to think about the bruise that was probably blooming on her throat as they stood there.

Blowing out a massive breath, she raked a hand through her hair, then said, "I just need to get some stuff out of his apartment. Including something I can wear to meet Remi."

"Mr. Robicheaux," he corrected sternly. "His employees don't address him as anything other than that."

Charlie snorted, wondering what the hell he meant by 'employee', but let it go. "What's your name?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

He pursed his lips. "You may call me Leon."

She waited for a second, then decided she wasn't going to get a last name. Rubbing absently at her aching throat, she said, "Well Leon, would you mind giving me a hand here?"

He blinked slowly, obviously put out by her request, but all he did was nod sharply. "Do you have a place to store your belongings until Mr. Robicheaux can work out a few other arrangements?"

Charlie scoffed. "I haven't agreed to anything yet, you know."

Leon smiled thinly at her, like he knew something she didn't. Walking briskly toward the apartment building, making her scramble to catch up with him, he said, "Mr. Robicheaux has a way of getting what he wants."

"So do I," she huffed. He held the door open, and she looked over her shoulder, peeking at Grayson still standing on the sidewalk behind them. Shaking her head, she said, "I don't care what he can do. It just depends on what he has to offer."

"Doesn't it always," Leon said, starting up the stairs. 

Once they reached the right floor, Charlie took the lead, walking toward the open door. Thankfully, Ms. Brandi had yet to return. She went into the apartment, Leon following her inside.

Charlie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously, glancing at Leon again. Her voice smaller than she intended, she asked, "How can Remi help me? He failed to mention how he can fix any of my problems."

Leon gave her a dry look. "Mr. Robicheaux has a rather... diverse business. My guess is whatever your particular skill set entails, he believes he might be able to utilize those skills."

She wasn't sure she really liked how he said the word 'skills'. 

When frowning at him didn't provoke a more concrete answer, she sighed and said, "Okay, so what does that mean? Is he lookin' to give me a job or..."

She trailed off as a thought she disliked immensely popped into her head. Curling her lip, she said, "I'm not whoring myself out to him. Jesus, you sleep with a guy one time and he—"

"I can assure you," Leon cut her off sharply, "Mr. Robicheaux has no need for something like that."

Charlie raised an eyebrow, then looked away. After all, what right did she have to say anything scathing about the man? She was the one who'd slept with him.

Shaking her head, she went back to gathering her things, pulling a nice, strapless black dress out of the very back of their shared closet. She shook it out, smoothing a few wrinkles and showed it to Leon. "Will this work?"

Leon eyed the piece of cloth critically, then said, "I suppose it will have to do."

She narrowed her eyes at him, opening her mouth to say something that would have most likely been rude. But before she could, Ms. Brandi appeared in the doorway. Holding a few, flattened cardboard boxes in her hand, she said, "I could only find two. Do you think that'll..."

The older woman trailed off as she peered at Leon through the glasses balanced precariously on the end of her nose. Charlie leapt forward and gently extracted the boxes from her grip. "Ms. Brandi, this is Leon. He's a..." She frowned at him. What was he? Then she shrugged lightly. "He's a friend. You don't have to worry about helping me pack. Leon here's strong enough to carry both boxes. Like I said, what I have isn't much."

Ms. Brandi pursed her lips and gave Leon a thorough once-over, which made him shift uncomfortably before he turned a subtle glare on Charlie. She smiled broadly and tossed the boxes at him. He caught them, then sighed and folded them before starting to neatly pack her clothes into them. 

Briefly she wondered what the hell he did for Remi.

Charlie turned back to her former landlady and embraced the woman again. Ms. Brandi returned her hug, rubbing her hands up and down Charlie's back. Murmuring, she said, "You ever need anything, baby, and I'm just a call away."

"Thanks," Charlie whispered, once again overwhelmed by the show of affection. Pulling away before she could tear up and make a fool of herself, she said, "I'll still come by to help you out. If you don't mind making the usual payment."

Ms. Brandi rolled her eyes dramatically to the ceiling. Glancing conspiratorially at Leon, she said, "She eats more than she should physically be capable of consuming. If you're taking her in, make sure to increase your grocery list twofold."

"We'll make sure she stays well fed," Leon said stiffly.

Charlie raised an eyebrow at him for that comment, wondering who exactly we was. Then she said goodbye to Ms. Brandi, explaining that she and Leon had a previous engagement concerning that opportunity she might be able to take.

Ms. Brandi had given him one last hard look before giving Charlie one more hug, threatening bodily harm if she didn't come to visit.

After she was gone, Charlie cautiously edged toward the window that looked down onto the street. Grayson wasn't there, and a small sigh of relief left her. The outburst of violence had shocked her, but it wasn't something she was a stranger to.

She had just never expected it to come from him. Then again, she knew what a loss of control could turn a person into, so maybe she shouldn't be so shocked.

"You need to hurry and get dressed," Leon said. "Mr. Robicheaux isn't the kind who likes to be kept waiting."

"Well he's going to have to deal with it," Charlie said, maybe a little too snidely. She snatched up the dress. "I spent the day with a man who has a bad case of bronchitis. He's got a nasty cough, so I'd like to shower if you don't mind."

Leon didn't seem to have much of a response to that, so he just nodded curtly, turning back to the pile of clothes on the bed. Charlie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, going into the bathroom.

She stepped into the shower, swearing as the water ran over her opened blister, making it sting. Moving quickly, she scrubbed the hospital off her skin, then got out and straightened her hair, leaving it to hang in silky sheets around her face. The tips hung just past her shoulder, doing something to hide the faint purple fingerprints beginning to outline themselves on her skin.

She shimmied into the dress, struggling for a moment with the zipper. But she refused to have to ask Leon, and after a few moments of clothing gymnastics, she got it to the top. With a sigh, she applied a light coat of foundation, mascara and demure maroon lipstick. 

Then she frowned.

With a shake of her head, she wiped the maroon off, and replaced it with a bold cherry red. The color somehow managed to bring the blue of her eyes out. Taking a small, calming breath, she looked at herself for a second longer, then put a band-aid over the blister and slipped on a pair of strappy black heels—a gift from Jazira. 

She had been fairly successful in fending off any logical arguments for why she shouldn't go meet Remi while in the shower. She wouldn't know until she heard him out. So she gathered her things from the bathroom and yanked the door open.

Leon watched her silently as she dumped the items into the emptier of the two boxes. She took one more look around the apartment to make sure that nothing of hers had been left, then picked up a box. Briskly, she said, "Help me put these in storage, then we can go."

Still without a word, he followed her down to the small storage room next to Ms. Brandi's apartment. She placed the boxes in a hidden corner, then Leon turned on his heel, striding out to the street. Amused, Charlie caught up with him, her eyes widening at the expensive Mercedes sitting on the curb. The white paint glowed in the street lights.

He held the passenger door open for her, and she slid in carefully, terrified that she would smudge something. She was very conscious of how hard her heels were pressing into the light tan floor-mats over a carpet in the exact same shade.

Little bits of shiny chrome shone out throughout the cab. The smooth leather seat stuck a little unpleasantly to the bottoms of her thighs. Everything was spotlessly clean. She folded her arms over her stomach, looking blankly at the ghostly reflection of herself in the window, the only thing really visible her blood-red lips.

Leon slid into the driver's seat and twisted the key, the car purring to life. They drove in silence, Charlie starting to doubt this course of action more and more.

She brushed sweaty palms against the skirt of her dress, her mouth dry as she remembered Jazira saying there was something a little off about Remi. It hadn't been given a great deal of thought by her, but now it was painfully obvious that this was probably the stupidest thing she'd ever done.

And this coming from the woman who'd been willing to marry someone she didn't truly love, all for the benefit of having a balanced checkbook and a bank account not constantly wanting for a deposit. 

By the time they turned onto Royal Street, she was debating on another high-heeled sprint down the streets of New Orleans. But then the car was being pulled to a stop and there was a whirl of activity.

She was helped out of the car by someone she didn't consciously see, but was certain wasn't Leon. Before she knew it she was inside and being ushered up a set of stairs, her fingers barely skimming the dark wood of the banister railing. 

Distantly, from other rooms, she could hear bright conversation, laughter, the chink of cutlery on china. 

"You'll be in the King's Room tonight, ma'am. Someone will be with you in a moment."

Charlie blinked, taking a moment to gather herself at the door of the room. At first, all she saw was the rich, wine-colored carpet and the matched chairs, the silky white tableclothes covered in sparkling dinnerware. The gold and cream patterened wallpaper, the chandelier in the center of the ceiling.

She'd never been inside Brennan's. 

Movement on the far side of the room, next to the black marble fireplace but away from the window, drew her eye. The lights were dimmed, but she knew immediately who it was.

Remi stood, holding out a chair, waiting for her. Slowly, she made her way to his table and let him help her into her seat. He sat down next to her, undoing the button of his jacket. She wondered why he hadn't sat across from her.

Then she watched as he looked to the two doors, then the windows across the room. He relaxed slightly, his back to the wall.

The low light was caught in the black material of his suit, making the crisp white shirt beneath it even more eye catching. The dark green tie he was wearing matched the handkerchief in his pocket. 

They both matched his eyes. 

Charlie was glad she'd elected to wear the vibrant red lipstick. 

He watched her for a moment, seeming to consider something. She forced herself not to shift uncomfortably. Her palms were still clammy with nervous sweat. 

"Since I'm picking up the tab it seems like the least you could do was show up on time," he finally said. He leaned over, displaying the gold watch on his wrist, turning the face to her. She stared blankly before realizing that the time read 8:50.

Scowling at him, she said, "You're lucky I came at all."

Remi raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused. He opened his mouth, but at that moment the door cracked open, a smartly dressed waiter with menus tucked under his arm coming in.

He gave Charlie a bright smile, but before he could say anything, Remi said, "We'll start with the crawfish cannelloni," he paused and gave her another of those speculative stares, then said, "and the DH Holmes for the lady."

Before Charlie could protest at the assumption, the waiter had smiled and nodded, swiftly leaving them alone once again. She glared at him. Unruffled, he asked, "You like shrimp, don't you?"

She did. But he didn't need to know that.

Remi nudged a wine glass toward her, but she shook her head. Her voice a little huskier than she intended, she said, "I'm still recovering from the last time I drank with you."

That inspired a small smile. He looked thoughtfully at the tablecloth, long lashes shading his eyes. Her gaze travelled around the room again. She felt distinctly out of place, but refused to let it show.

An impossibly deep silences descended between them. She tucked her hair behind her ear, not entirely sure what was happening here.

"What happened?" he asked quietly. Her fingers stilled where they had been playing with the edge of the tablecloth. 

Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his. His gaze was fixed firmly on her throat. She refused to duck her head. It wasn't her fault. It had taken her a long time to learn that, and she refused to let this one night undo the learning of that lesson.

Wishing she had taken him up on his offer of wine, she shrugged. "That fiancé didn't take too kindly to me leaving." As an afterthought, she said, "Ex-fiancé."

"Ah," Remi said softly, brow lifting in understanding. He didn't say anything else. 

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking," she said dryly.

He shook his head, mouth quirking to the side. Their food was brought in, and Charlie had to scramble through her mind to remember which fork was a salad fork. 

First fork on the left. She sighed to herself when her memory didn't betray her.

"No need to ask. You're here, you're fine."

That seemed a tad callous to her, but she didn't need his sympathy, either. Shrugging one shoulder, she took a bite of salad, caught off guard by the strange but not unpleasant tang of strawberries. 

Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything other than a power bar today. She speared a small shrimp hiding in the asparagus, savoring the succulent flavor. Thankfully, Remi didn't appear to be the chatty type.

Not that she'd had that impression before. She smirked, laughing at herself. Thinking about being in bed with him every time she saw him probably would end up with her in bed with him again. 

She hadn't realized that she'd been staring at him until he tilted his head, raising a questioning eyebrow. Giving herself a mental shake, she said, "Why am I here?"

Remi looked around. "Am I not allowed to treat a beautiful woman to a nice dinner?"

Now she scoffed. "You're not just treating a beautiful woman to dinner. You said you had an offer."

"Right to business then," he said with a sigh. He wiped at his mouth with a linen napkin. "So I did. You said last night that you're a medical student?"

"I have one more interview," she hedged. By this point, she was almost positive that she was in. If she could pay.

But what did that have to do with anything?

Remi nodded graciously, though something a little dark flickered in his eyes. Agitation, maybe? Or... irritation. 

His index finger tapped once against the table, making the water in a nearby glass ripple. "And your plans after that?"

"After school?" she clarified. When he nodded, she shrugged. "I'll be placed in a hospital to go through my residency."

"Will you be leaving New Orleans?" he inquired, and Charlie narrowed her eyes. The question in and of itself was innocent enough, but there was just something about the way he said it that made goosebumps prickle over her bare arms.

"That's the plan," she said stiffly.

"Mm," he hummed. Giving her that half-smile, he said, "Never met someone who didn't love this city."

She snorted. "It's not the city I have a problem with. It's the fact that if I'm not careful my mother hunts me down and begs me to support her drug habit. Or to bail my father out. Again."

"And if that could be stopped?" he asked, tone disinterested. That only made her think he was extremely interested.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, watching as Remi's eyes caught the movement. Careful not to mess up her makeup, she touched her tongue momentarily to her upper lip. "Why are you asking me this?"

"I find myself in need of someone who knows their way around..." He trailed off and smiled slightly to himself. "Who can take care of other people. Some facets of my business come with certain... risks. I need someone who can negate those risks."

She blinked, setting her fork down. A small laugh huffed out of her, her smile growing by the second. What in the hell was he talking about?

"What?" she asked, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice.

He took an envelope out of his jacket and placed it on the table between them. When she didn't touch it, he used a single finger to slide it toward her.

"I pay for everything you need right now," he said, looking serious, "and you come work for me, no questions asked, no refusals."

Her eyes flicked down to the sinister envelope. She couldn't have said what made it sinister, other than the circumstances surrounding its appearance. Her breath huffed out in disbelief and she looked up at him, her eyebrows drawing together. 

His eyes narrowed in a way that made her think 'no' would be a poorly chosen answer. Trapping her in his gaze, he said, "Work for me."