The Perfect Neighbor Read Online Free Page A

Delta it was like sex. It dragged something out of you, put something back. And when it was over, it was always too soon.
    In the back, Cybil drifted into it, slid down into those low, bluesy notes, rose up with the sudden wailing sobs. It was different, she thought, watching him play than just hearing it through the walls. Watching him, there was more power, more heartbreak, more of that subtle sexual pull.
    It was music to weep by. To make love to. To dream on.
    It caught her, focused her on the stage so she didn’t see Delta moving toward her table.
    “What’s your pleasure, little sister?”
    “Hmm.” Distracted, Cybil glanced up, smiled vaguely. “It’s wonderful. The music. It makes my heart hurt.”
    Delta lifted a brow. The girl had a bright and pretty face, she mused. Didn’t look much like a lunatic with that tipped nose and those long-lidded eyes. “You drinking or just taking up space?”
    “Oh.” Of course, Cybil realized, a place like this needed to sell drinks. “It’s whiskey music,” she said with another smile. “I’ll have a whiskey.”
    Delta’s brow only arched higher. “You don’t look old enough to be ordering whiskey, little sister.”
    Cybil didn’t bother to sigh. It was an opinion she heard constantly. She flipped open her purse, pulled out her driver’s license.
    Delta took it, studied it. “All right, Cybil Angela Campbell, I’ll get your whiskey.”
    “Thanks.” Content, Cybil rested her chin on her fists again and just listened. It surprised her when Delta came back not with one glass of whiskey but two, then folded that glamorous body into the chair next to her.
    “So, what are you doing in a place like this, young Cybil? You got a Rainbow Room face.”
    Cybil opened her mouth, then realized she could hardly say she’d followed her mysterious neighbor all over Soho. “I don’t live far from here. I suppose I just followed an impulse.” She lifted the whiskey, gestured with it to the stage. “I’m glad I did,” she said, then drank.
    Delta’s lips pursed. The girl might look like a varsity cheerleader, but she drank her whiskey like a man. “You go wandering around the streets alone at night, somebody’s going to eat you up, little sister.”
    Cybil’s eyes gleamed over the rim of her glass. “Oh, I don’t think so. Big sister.”
    Considering, Delta nodded. “Maybe, maybe not. Delta Pardue.” She touched her glass to Cybil’s. “This is my place.”
    “I like your place, Delta.”
    “Maybe, maybe not.” Delta let loose that rich laugh again. “But you sure like my man there. You’ve had your pretty cat’s-eyes on him since you came in.”
    Thoughtfully, Cybil swirled her whiskey while she debated how to play it. Though she had no doubt she could handle herself on the streets—or anywhere else, for that matter—Delta outweighed her by at least thirty pounds. And as she’d said, it was her place. Her man. No point in making a potential new friend want to rip out her lungs at their first meeting.
    “He’s very attractive,” Cybil said casually. “It’s hard not to look. So I’ll keep looking if it’s all the same to you. I doubt his eyes are going to wander when he’s got someone like you in focus.”
    Delta’s teeth flashed in a brilliant grin. “Maybe you can take care of yourself after all. You’re a smart girl, aren’t you?”
    Cybil chuckled into her whiskey. “Oh, yeah. I am. And I do like your place. I like it a lot. How long have you owned it, Delta?”
    “This? Two years here.”
    “And before? It’s New Orleans I’m hearing in your voice, isn’t it?”
    Delta inclined her head. “You got good ears.”
    “I do, actually, for dialects, but yours is one I couldn’t miss. I have family in New Orleans. My mother grew up there.”
    “I don’t know any Campbells—what’s your mama’s maiden name?”
    “Grandeau.”
    Delta eased back. “I know Grandeaus, many Grandeaus. Are you kin to Miss