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“Are we going to see this Geneviève?” Luc asked.
I sighed deeply. “I don’t know, Luc. I’m too tired to think. And hot. And my body hurts. I need to rest.”
“Let’s go home then.”
Woldenberg Park
I snuck into my own home—well, I rented it—through the back window since it was daylight out. I tended to leave it unlocked for this purpose. Who knew who was watching the front. Could be the goons after me or the landlord because rent was due, and as usual, I didn’t have it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of those floor-to-ceiling windows like I had in the front. I suspected theback was an addition at some point. The three units attached to this building were probably all one at some point, but when they were divided for rentals, extra rooms were added across the back. Yay for me. I fell to the floor after having struggled to lift my body over the pane. I crawled to the bed. Every muscle in my body felt like they’d been through a meat grinder. I pulled my clothes off. Luc had already seen me naked, so it wasn’t anything to strip down to my boxers.
I passed out, sprawled across the mattress, without even saying good night.
When I woke, the sun was pouring in the window I’d climbed through, but that wasn’t what had done it. Luc was beside me in the bed, yelling at the top of his lungs.
“Austin! Wake up!”
“Wha…” I groaned and pulled the pillow over my head. If Luc was corporal, he’d probably have beat me with it.
“No, no, no. Wake up. Aus…someone is breaking in the front. Come on. You have to go.”
“What? Shit.” I tossed my boots out the window and grabbed my shorts and shirt from the night before off the floor and hefted my ass back out.
In record time, I pulled on shorts and my boots without lacing them, then tore down the alley and over a small fence. I slipped into the neighbors’ courtyard and out the other side. It was my standard route that ended in a parking lot right on the edge of, surprise…Burgundy. Marigny was on the edge of the French Quarter, after all. I kept going until I thought I was far enough away from the house.
One of the houses a few blocks up had a decent stoop. Of course, it was cement and not the old-fashioned brick that actually added character to the city, but I was not going to be picky. I sat and laced up my boots, catching my breath.
“This is the street, right? For the mambo?” Luc paced in front of me, looking as dapper as ever. His fedora cocked back, striped shirt unbuttoned at the top and tucked into those dark blue pants. He very well could have stepped right off the pages of Roaring Twenties Weekly if that was an actual magazine and not something my overworked brain made up.
“Yes. But it’s a coincidence. Right? We don’t have to go there if you don’t want to.” I had never been so concerned about someone’s feelings. Normally, afuck offand I was gone, caring only about what I needed. I wasn’t entirely sure why Luc was different, but he was.
He stopped with the pacing and sat beside me on the stoop, wringing his hands. “What other choice do we have? I thought about it a lot while you slept, Aus.” That was the second time he shortened my name. Oh, I had noticed it the first time, even sleep rattled. It made my heart do some weird fluttery thing.
“Luc…” I paused, licking my lips. “I don’t have the answers.”
“I know but maybe—”
My stomach growled loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood. Wait. What time was it? The sun was high in the sky and actually starting the daily descent. It had to be around one in the afternoon. “Fuck, I’m hungry.”
“There are restaurants close, aren’t there?” He was right. We were in the French Quarter or just about to be. But…
“I’m broke, Luc. I don’t have a damn dime in my pocket.” I hated admitting that. Hated feeling like a loser. I hung my head.
“No shame in that, Austin.” He put his hand on my shoulder. Okay, through my shoulder. I didn’t feel it, but I understood the gesture. It was nice, though I could blame my situation on nobody but myself. Even if I wanted to find another scapegoat, there wasn’t one.
“Don’t want your pity. I might be down on my luck but—”
“No pity. You think I haven’t been there? A time or two. I think I know how to help you, though. I’ve talked to other spirits over the years, and this is…well, you’ll see. But you’re going to need a hat or a box. Something to collect money.”
“Collect money? It’s not going to rain from the trees.”
“It might in this city. Come on. Find something to collect the money and head toward the river.”
The Mississippi ran along the southern edge of the French Quarter, right through the heart of New Orleans. A popular tourist attraction, the waterfront was about twenty minutes away. On the weekends, there was an open-air market there, and sometimes, if I had any money, I could buy fresh fruit or a meal or whatever. Not today, but I was going to trust Luc, so I headed in that direction, searching for something to put the money in along the way.
I cut across Dauphine, then down Esplanade. We made it all the way to Chartres before I found something useful. Garbage cans were sitting on the corner, and one was stuffed with cardboard. I pulled it all out and sorted through it until Luc pointed out the one he wanted. He’d picked a decent-sized piece, about the size of a shoe box, but it was square. “That will do fine. Now, down to the river.” He was excited and hurrying me along. I couldn’t see his glow in the bright sun, making him seem almost solid. Until he walked through something.
When we got to the river, I walked past the riverboat station and toward Woldenberg Park. We stopped near the Riverwalk Gazebo. There were a few telescope stations along the steps where anyone could look out over the muddy waters of the Mississippi. I had never done that. I didn’t think there was that much to be seen except the big bridge in the distance with its metal spiderweb spanning the water. “This is good. There.” Luc pointed to an open spot down the steps from some modern art sculpture. “Put the box down and stand still.”
I did what he said.
