Labor of Love (9 page)

S
aturday we only worked until noon.

Tank drove us back to the dorm with the promise he and Brady would be back to get us in an hour. No way were we going to spend time in the French Quarter without getting cleaned up first. I was going through clothes like crazy. Tomorrow I definitely had to make time for laundry. Or else buy some more clothes.

Hmm. Buying more clothes might be the way to go.

I dressed in a denim miniskirt with cargo pockets on the sides so I could carry money and an ID without having to lug around my backpack. I put on a tank with skinny straps, slipped on sandals, and used a banana clip to get my hair up off my shoulders. I picked one
string of red beads to wear. I didn't think I'd be adding to my stash tonight, but I wasn't completely saying no to the possibility.

“Nice,” Brady said to me when he and Tank picked us up.

We parked at their hotel, then started making our way through the French Quarter.

“I know just the place for lunch,” Tank said. “The home of the original muffuletta.”

Central Grocery had been housed in the French Quarter for nearly a century. As we walked inside the red emporium, the tantalizing aromas of salami, cheese, and garlic wafted around us. The worn floor creaked as we made our way around the aisles—displaying various containers of olives, pickles, and spices—to the counter where they took the food orders. The menu was pretty simple. Only one thing was served—the muffuletta. We ordered two to share, because the round sandwich is huge and piled with salami, ham, provolone, olive salad, and other special ingredients.

“Want to split a Barq's root beer?” Brady asked.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Why don't you grab us some chairs?”

Off to the side was a counter with stools where people could eat. The store was small, the eating area even smaller, but we found four seats together.

“It smells really good in here,” Jenna said.

“Yeah, it does.”

“I am
so
hungry.”

Brady took the stool beside me and unwrapped the sandwich. It was huge, cut into quarters. I had a feeling that one piece was going to be enough for me, and I wondered if we should have just ordered one for the four of us to share.

But Brady and Tank had monstrous appetites, and in no time the sandwiches were gone. They were delicious, and the root beer just topped it off.

I felt incredibly stuffed as we walked out of the store. I didn't think I could have eaten a pecan praline if it was given to me free. Okay, I could have. My theory is that sugar melts, so it doesn't fill you up.

Once we were outside, Jenna pulled me aside.

“Tank and I were thinking of going off and
doing our own thing, but I wanted to make sure you were okay with that, with being alone with Brady.”

“That's cool.”

“You sure?”

“We've been alone before,” I reminded her.

“I know. I just didn't know if you wanted a lot of alone time, because I was thinking we wouldn't hook back up until later tonight.”

“I'm fine, Jenna.”

“Okay, then, we'll catch up with you at the ghost tour.”

She took Tank's hand and led him away.

“What was that about?” Brady asked.

I shrugged. “Just Jenna being silly. They want to do their own thing.”

“I'm not surprised. He's got it bad for her.” He suddenly looked guilty. “Don't tell her I said that. I mean, it should come from him.”

“But it would give me a chance to play psychic,” I teased.

“Don't. Please.”

I pretended to think it over for a bit. Then finally I said, “Okay.”

“You were never going to tell her, were you?”

Smiling, I shook my head.

Holding hands, Brady and I walked to the French Market. It's a covered flea market, so we were at least out of the sun. There were so many vendors.

“This probably isn't the place to be if we're going on a ghost tour tonight,” I said, thinking of hauling anything I bought around all day.

“If you find something you want, we can always take it back to my room,” Brady said.

“Do you like shopping?”

“Not particularly, but I really like people-watching, and this is a great place for that.”

“So you're okay if I stop and look at stuff?” The one time I'd taken Drew shopping with me, he'd moped around and totally spoiled the day. He said guys had a gene that prevented them from having patience at a mall. I didn't buy into it, though, because my dad always went shopping with my mom.

“Look all you want,” Brady said. “I've got no appointments to keep.”

“Except for the ghost tour,” I reminded him.

“Well, yeah, but that's not for a while yet.”

We strolled up and down the aisles. A lot
of the vendors were craftsmen, displaying various items they'd made. Some of the vendors had really inexpensive products—knockoffs, trinkets.

Like Brady had said, the most fun was just watching the people, seeing their excitement when they discovered a find, listening to them haggling over prices.

“Hey, I was wondering if you'd do me a favor,” Brady said after a while.

I gave him what I hoped was a sultry smile. “Depends what it is.”

“I want to find something to take back to my youngest sister. I was hoping you could help me figure out what would be a good thing to get her.”

Did he think all girls liked the same things? I didn't have a clue what his sister might like.

“How about a box of pralines?”

He shook his head. “She'd yell at me for screwing up whatever diet she's on when I get home.”

“She yells at you?”

“Oh yeah.”

“And you want to buy her something?”

He shrugged. “It's what brothers do.”

“Not mine.”

“You have a brother?”

“Yeah, but he's twelve.”

He grinned. “He's probably too young to appreciate you.”

“Maybe.” I squeezed his hand. “There's so much we still don't know about each other.”

It was weird, because we hadn't grown up in the same town or gone to the same school. I didn't know all the details of his life, but I felt like I knew him.

“What's there to know? I have a mom and a dad and three sisters, one who likes to get presents. I go to Rice, majoring in architecture. And I like you. A lot.”

He made it all seem so simple, and I knew that he probably wanted me to say back that I liked him…a lot. But I couldn't. Even if it was true. So instead I asked, “Why the Kansas City Chiefs?”

“What?”

“Your hat.” He wasn't wearing it today. “Why that team?”

“My oldest sister lives in Kansas City now.
I went to visit her, went to a Chiefs game.”

“So you're not necessarily a fan?”

“Nope, Houston Texans all the way. So, you and I have something in common.”

“Uh, actually we don't. That first night at dinner, I just said that to have something to say. I'm not really into football.”

“That's just un-Texan.”

I knew what he meant—in Texas, football is king.

I grimaced. “Yeah, I know.”

“Might have to do an intervention here. Take you to a Rice game.”

It was the first time he'd said something—anything—that hinted at us seeing each other when our time here was finished.

My concern must have shown on my face, because he said, “Sorry. Forgot. We're just summer buddies, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, just for the summer. That was our agreement.”

He studied me for a minute. “Okay. Let's go souvenir shopping.”

We stopped at a table of handcrafted jewelry.
He spent about twenty minutes looking over the various selections, asking me my opinion. My favorite piece was a delicate silver chain threaded through a fleur-de-lis charm.

He decided to buy it for his sister.

“I trust your judgment. If you like it, she will, too,” he said.

“She might not.”

“She will.”

“Do I remind you of your sister?”

He scoffed. “No. No way.”

“So our tastes might not be the same.”

“I can tell you they're not. You have better taste.”

He always made me feel good about myself.

“My pockets are a little roomier,” I said. “Want me to carry it for you?”

“Sure. Thanks. Good thing I didn't get her a box of pralines, huh?”

I laughed. “Yeah.”

We spent some more time walking by the stalls, looking at the various offerings. Then we slipped on our sunglasses and walked back into the sunshine.

It was hot and muggy so we went to the aquarium, to cool off in the air conditioning as much as to view all the exhibits. When we were walking, we'd hold hands. When we were simply standing, looking at something, Brady would slip his arm around me and hold me against his side.

Needless to say, I found an excuse to stand and watch a lot of things.

I loved the way that I fit up against him. My head nestled right into the little curve of his shoulder. His arm would come around me and he'd rest his hand on my stomach or my hip. And sometimes he'd kiss the curve of my neck and shoulder.

It all seemed so natural. So right. I couldn't imagine not being with him.

We rode the streetcar down to the Garden District, famous for its mansions. We got off the streetcar at one end and began walking back up toward the French Quarter. The nice thing about walking through the Garden District was that the area had so many trees we were almost always walking in the shade.

“I think that's Anne Rice's house,” Brady said when we got to the corner of First Street and Chestnut.

It was a white two-story house with a balcony on the second floor.

“She lives in California now,” I said.

“But doesn't this seem like the perfect place to write about vampires and witches?” Brady asked.

“Yeah, it does.”

“Wonder if it'll be on the tour tonight.”

I shrugged. “Have you ever been on a ghost tour?”

“Nope. How about you?”

“No. I'd say I was skeptical, except after Sara's reading, I have a feeling that after tonight, I'll believe in ghosts.”

Brady chuckled. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

We were walking along, holding hands again.

“I didn't think you believed in psychics,” I said.

“I don't…or at least I didn't. But yours seemed to be right on and the one I had—”

I stopped walking and pulled him back to face me. “You had a reading? You didn't say anything. When was this?”

“The day I met you.”

“Was it with Saraphina?”

“No, someone else.”

I grinned broadly. “Come on! Spill it! What did she tell you?”

He removed his sunglasses and held my gaze. He looked so serious that I got a little worried. What could she have told him? Was it bad news?

He cleared his throat, took a deep breath. “She said, ‘For you, I see life is good.' Which didn't make any sense at the time, because some stuff was going on in my life that wasn't good, so I figured it was a con, something she probably said to everyone, but then…”

His voice trailed off, and I realized where this was going.

“My ‘Life Is Good' hat,” I whispered, goose bumps erupting along my arms, in spite of the heat of the afternoon.

He grinned. “Yeah.”

“Spooky. Way spooky.”

“Oh yeah.”

I furrowed my brow. “What was bad in your life?”

He shook his head. “Nothing important, nothing that matters anymore, anyway. Now, life
is
good.”

And he drew me close and kissed me. No doubt a ploy to stop me from prying into his past.

It worked, because when he kissed me, I could hardly think at all.

W
e caught up with Tank and Jenna a little before nine in front of Sara—Saraphina's. It was hard to think of her with her psychic's name now that I knew her as a normal person. Almost normal, anyway.

As long as she didn't give me any secretive, off-the-record readings.

Amber was coming back, just as she'd predicted. But she'd also predicted some hurt when that happened. I didn't like the idea of that. Not at all. Although maybe it would be something simple, something not too painful—like another splinter, or a sunburn. Something small. But then, why bother to mention it?

Palling around with a psychic had its drawbacks. It was one thing for her to give me a
reading when I was paying for it, but when she told me something she saw because she felt compelled to tell me—well, quite honestly, it made me worry.

Nearly a dozen people stood around, waiting for our hostess or tour guide or whatever she would be calling herself tonight.

“I don't believe in ghosts,” Jenna said—three times—like a mantra.

Which made me think maybe she did believe in them. She sounded nervous. I knew she didn't like scary things.

“I have a feeling Sara will have us convinced before the night is over,” Brady said.

“Yeah, well, just don't let go of my hand,” I ordered. “And hold me close if I get scared.”

“I hope you get scared,” he said in a low voice near my ear.

“Me, too.” A delicious shiver went through me. “I can practically guarantee it.”

He was standing behind me, and he tightened his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. He dropped a kiss onto my bare shoulder.

Oh yeah, I might get scared, but it would be the good kind of scared, where we held each
other close and laughed. Or maybe just kissed. I was starting to like him so much—and that scared me most of all.

When she finally arrived, Sara was dressed all in black, a black, hooded cloak swirling around her. It seemed like the fog was trailing in behind her. Her vibrant red hair was the only visible color. She was wearing it down and it flowed past her shoulders.

“Good evening,” she said in a very melodramatic, haunting voice. “Does anyone not have a partner?”

Everyone was already paired up.

“Good,” she said. “Now, I want you to hold your partner's hand and no matter what happens, don't let go. People have been known to disappear on the streets of New Orleans and never be seen again.”

A chill went through me. Yeah, she was going to have us believing in ghosts.

“We are known as the most haunted city in the country,” she continued. “And sometimes the spirits get jealous of the living. If you listen closely as we walk through the streets, sometimes you'll hear them crying, sometimes you'll
hear them singing, sometimes you'll hear them dying.”

I squeezed Brady's hand and rose up on my toes, so only he would hear me. “Are we sure we want to do this?”

“Oh yeah. And if you get so scared you need someone to sleep with you tonight—I'm there.”

I didn't think I was going to get that scared, but who knew?

And okay, quite honestly, snuggling up with Brady appealed to me. It was frightening how quickly and how hard I was falling for the guy.

He was nice, he was fun, and he was hot. I just liked the way I felt when we were together. Like we were part of something.

“Follow me as we seek out the lost souls of New Orleans,” Sara said in that spooky voice she'd perfected. It sent more chills over my flesh.

Must have sent chills over Brady's, too, because he put his arm around me, like holding hands wasn't enough to keep us from getting lost. We headed up Royal Street.

“New Orleans history is rich with hauntings. Some of the spirits are here because of
something left undone. Some feel compelled to remain and re-create the circumstances of their death until justice has been gained. Most spirits are playful, causing mischief. Especially those who died as children. There are rare accounts of spirits causing harm, but rest assured that you'll all be safe tonight. The spirits know me, and they know we mean them no harm. That we mourn their passing, and that we're here to remember.”

“That doesn't sound too bad,” I whispered, starting to relax.

I felt something brush against my bare calf. I looked down, but there was nothing there. I shivered.

“You okay?” Brady asked.

“I thought I felt something.”

“Like what?”

“A cat maybe. A very, very soft cat. It was just a light touch.”

“Probably nothing.”

“Probably.”

But it hadn't felt like nothing.

“Over here we have a mansion that reflects our city's dark history,” Sara said.

We stopped in front of a large gray building as Sara told us about Delphine Lalaurie and her physician husband. Wealthy, they were known for their lavish parties until it was discovered that they were monsters, performing surgical experiments on their slaves.

“Within the manor,” Sara said, “there have been reported sightings of a man walking about carrying his head.”

A shudder went through me.

“Is that what she calls being playful?” I whispered.

Brady chuckled. Did I sound spooked? I thought I sounded spooked.

“And on foggy nights, you can hear the screams of those who were abused within those walls. They are still crying out for justice.”

Sara took us down Orleans Street, where on rainy nights the ghost of a priest who'd led a funeral procession to bury the remains of wrongly executed men could be heard singing.

Brady tightened his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder. I felt breath whisper across my neck. I told myself it was his. It had to be his.

“Thank goodness it's not raining,” he said.

“Really.”

“Are you believing this stuff?” He sounded totally stunned.

I twisted my head around. He was grinning.

“Don't you?” I asked.

“No. This is all bogus.”

Was it? I didn't know anymore.

At 716 Dauphine Street, Sara told us about the ghost of a sultan who was murdered along with his wives and children and now haunted the four-story house.

“One of my favorite spirits remains here,” she said. “I'm fairly certain it's one of the sultan's children. It likes to tickle necks.”

I felt a light prickle over my neck. I hunched my shoulders and turned to Brady. “Don't.”

“What?”

“I know you're trying to scare me.”

“What are you talking about?”

What
was
I talking about? Because he was holding my hand, and no way he could have touched my neck without twisting around—and that I would have noticed.

Maybe it had been a moth or a mosquito. Some little insect of the night.

Every street she walked us along had tales of horrific murders—a man had killed his wife and the ghost of his wife had killed his mistress. What was that she'd said earlier about ghosts not causing harm?

Although the night was warm, I felt chilled. At one point, I thought I saw an apparition—a woman in a white nightgown—but it was gone so fast that I couldn't be sure.

When we'd circled back around to Sara's shop, she seemed really pleased with herself. Maybe because it looked like several people were pale. I probably was, too.

“In two weeks, John and I will take you on a vampire tour. He loves fresh blood! Sleep well,” she said, before whipping her cloak around her and walking off. It seemed as if she disappeared from sight sooner than she should have.

“Okay, that was creepy,” Jenna said.

“You mean the tour, or John liking fresh blood?” I asked.

“All of it. Sara was a little out there at the end.”

“I can't see Ms. Wynder with a vampire,” I said.

She laughed. “Me either.”

I figured they'd laugh if I told them that I thought I'd felt something. So I kept quiet, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. New Orleans was definitely a city for those who believed in the supernatural. And even those who didn't could have their skepticism challenged.

“Anyone hungry?” Tank asked.

I wasn't, but I welcomed anything to take my mind off the tour.

 

We went to McDonald's. Not very New Orleans-ish, but it was late and they were open. And the lights were bright—I suddenly had a love of bright lights—so there were no spooky things lurking about.

And actually, once I bit into my burger, I realized that I was hungry. Very hungry. Apparently ghost hunting works up an appetite.

“I don't know if I'm going to do the vampire
tour,” Jenna said as she swirled a fry in the ketchup. “I mean, I don't believe in vampires, but then I didn't believe in ghosts either, but that was before tonight. I think I saw one.”

“Saw what?” Tank asked.

“A ghost.”

He laughed so loudly that several other late-night customers looked over at our table.

“I saw something, too,” I said, feeling a need to support Jenna. And okay. I
had
seen something.

“Probably just someone walking by,” Tank said.

“If they want to believe in ghosts, I'm down with that,” Brady said, scooting closer to me. “As a matter of fact, I'm not certain I want to sleep alone tonight.”

“You're scared?” Tank asked.

Brady glared at him, and I laughed.

Then Tank widened his eyes. “Oh. Right. Right. Babe, if you're scared—”

“I might be,” Jenna said, “but not if you're going to make fun of me.”

They started talking low again, like Brady
and I weren't even there.

“Did you really see something?” Brady asked.

I shrugged, popped a fry into my mouth. “Maybe. I don't know. Could be the power of suggestion. I definitely felt something. On my calf, on the back of my neck.”

“Me, too. On the back of my neck.”

“Really?”

“No. But if it'll make you not want to sleep alone—”

I shoved playfully on his shoulder. “Get over it. That's so not happening.”

We left McDonald's and started walking toward Bourbon Street, as though it was a given that that's where we wanted to end the night.

Since it was Saturday, Ms. Wynder had said she wouldn't do a bed check until two, and I wondered if she'd even bother. What if things got hot and steamy between her and John?

Tank and Jenna were behind us. Brady turned, walking backward. “Hey, we'll catch up with y'all later, at the hotel.”

Then he quickened his pace, pulling me along with him. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You'll see.”

The guy was nothing but surprises, which I liked. Because every surprise was better than the one that came before.

He brought me around a corner, where a horse and carriage were waiting. The driver wore a top hat, very high society.

“Do you go down to the Garden District?” Brady asked him.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hop in,” Brady said to me.

Once he paid the driver, and we were settled against the leather seats with Brady's arm around me, I asked, “How did you know I wanted to do this?”

“It's a chick thing. All girls want to do it.”

“Your sisters trained you right.”

He laughed. “Yeah, but don't tell them that. I'll never hear the end of it.”

And I wondered if I'd ever meet his sisters. It didn't seem likely. I mean, why would they come here? And in a few weeks, Brady and I would go our separate ways.

He wound his finger around my beaded
necklace. “So, are you planning to get more of these tonight?”

“I don't think so.”

“Yeah. That's what I figured. So I didn't think Bourbon Street would be
that
much fun.”

“Watching
you
get beads is fun.”

“Yeah, but we should take turns.”

That sounded like such a couple thing to say.

“I really had fun today,” I said.

“Yeah, me, too.”

I nestled my head against his shoulder.

“So tell me about your breakup,” he said quietly.

I eased away from him a little and met his gaze. “What does it matter?”

He tucked my hair behind my ear. “I like you, Dawn. I think this guy, whoever he is, is still messing with you.”

I looked at the driver. His back was to us. He wasn't paying any attention. And we were talking low. I sighed. “Drew. His name is Drew and he—” I shook my head.

“He what?”

It hurt to think about it, hurt even more to
say it. “He cheated on me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? That's all? Aren't you going to tell me that he's a jerk?”

“You already know that.”

Yeah, I knew that, but I still found some comfort in hearing it. And while I was usually okay with his single okay, right now I wanted more.

“What you need to understand,” he said quietly, “is that I'm not him.”

Then, with his hand cradling my cheek and his thumb stroking near the corner of my mouth, he leaned in and kissed me. Something about the kiss seemed different. Like all the others had been for fun, but this one was meant to be more.

It was kind of scary, but at the same time, I realized that it was something that I wanted.

I felt like I had on the ghost tour. Doubting what I was feeling. Wondering if it was real.

Or would it—like an apparition—disappear, and leave me wondering if it had truly ever been there?