CHAPTER 4

Several blocks of Bourbon Street were closed to traffic. The area was a mash of bodies, noises, and smells. I hadn’t expected one of those noises to be the clip clop of horses’ hooves or one of the smells to be manure.

But the police were patrolling on huge horses, and big horses left behind big business.

“Watch out,” Brady said, slipping his arm around my waist and hauling me to the side before I stepped in something I absolutely didn’t want to. He laughed. “I think my shoes just became disposable.” Although we’d missed stepping into a big mess, the street was trashed.

“Mine, too. Definitely.”

I smiled up at him, not sure why I suddenly felt very comfortable around him. Maybe it was the revelry surrounding us. Maybe it was everyone shouting and laughing and having a great time. The attitude was contagious, something I wanted to embrace.

I was suddenly very glad to be sharing all this with a guy. Not even Brady particularly, just a guy. Because it seemed like the kind of partying that required holding hands and being part of a couple.

People were acting wild, crazy, totally uninhibited. Dancing, yelling, hugging, kissing, laughing. It wasn’t all because of the drinking going on. Sure, some people were drinking freely in the streets, weaving in and out of the crowds. I’m certain a lot of them were drunk on booze, but many were simply drunk on having a good time.

When everyone around you doesn’t care what anyone else thinks, why should you?

A guy bumped into us, staggered back, and raised his fist in the air. “Rock on!”

He swerved away, hit a lamppost. “Rock on!”

Brady drew me nearer. “That dude’s going to be seriously hung over in the morning if he already can’t tell the difference between a post and a person.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

I didn’t know why I asked that. It was rude. But I think I was looking for a flaw. He couldn’t be this perfect. I wanted him to be not so nice.

He grinned. Obviously he didn’t take offense at what I’d said.

“I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”

“What are you—a law student?”

“Architecture. We’re all architecture majors. It’s part of the reason we’re here.”

“To help rebuild.”

“That, and to appreciate what remains.”

He made it sound so noble, so . . . un-Drew. The only thing Drew had appreciated was the spotlight, which hadn’t bothered me at the time, because it had made him—made us—seem special. I’d never considered him self-centered or selfish, but now I wasn’t so sure.

Brady and I walked in tandem, following Tank and Jenna. Their height made them easy to keep in sight.

The street didn’t have a shortage of bars, which you’d probably expect of a street named Bourbon, although the name didn’t really refer to booze. At the time New Orleans was founded by the French, the French royal family was the House of Bourbon and Rue Bourbon was named to honor them. Yes, I’d spent a lot of time on Wikipedia, looking up facts that were probably only interesting to me. Which is why I didn’t share that one with Brady.

We stopped just outside a corner daiquiri bar. The huge doors were wide open. People walked in, got their drinks, and strolled out. Behind the counter were several huge vats of frozen drinks, so it didn’t take very long to get served. The tables inside were crammed with people watching a baseball game on the TV hanging on the wall.

“I don’t get that,” Brady said.

“What?”

“You’ve got all this stuff happening out here, and people are in there watching TV. I can watch TV at home. Why come here if that’s what you’re going to do?”

“Maybe New Orleans is their home.”

“Maybe.”

“Or maybe they’re huge baseball fans.”

“Still. I believe you gotta experience life, not watch it.”

He looked at me like he thought I should agree. I didn’t know what to say. Up until this summer, my experiences were pretty limited. I didn’t want to get into an experience-listing competition.

“I’m making a run,” Tank suddenly said.

He went inside, leaving Jenna on the sidewalk. She had her cell phone out, pointed it at me, took a picture, and winked. For her Facebook page, no doubt. As proof to Drew that I’d totally gotten over him. Moved on.

Who knew pictures could lie?

It was only then that I realized I was still nestled snugly against Brady’s side. I didn’t want to be obvious about easing away from him, which meant that I stayed beside him because there was no way to move away without being obvious.

So, okay, maybe I was just looking for an excuse to stay close. The weight of his arm around me felt really nice.

“You’re not going to get something to drink?” I asked.

He grinned and winked. “I’m not going in to buy something, but yeah, I’ll have something. Tank’s the only one who’s twenty-one. I might get carded if I tried to buy it, but I don’t usually get carded once I’m holding it.”

I wondered if that was part of the reason he kept stubble on his chin, so he’d look older. It was considerably darker than his hair. It gave him a rough, dangerous look. Which gave me a thrill. To be with someone older, someone who looked like he could be trouble, someone who wasn’t Drew.

“Sounds like you have a system,” I said. There I was again, being snide, trying to find that elusive flaw. What was wrong with me?

“I believe in partying hearty. And tonight we’re pedestrians, so the only crashing that will take place is when we hit the beds.” He gave me his sexy grin. (Did he have any other kind?) “Who am I hurting?”

Tank came out with a frozen red drink.

“Strawberry daiquiri,” he said. “They give a free shot of Sex on the Beach, but I couldn’t bring it out, so I was forced to drink it myself.”

“But you’re always willing to make the sacrifice,” Brady said.

“You bet! Let’s party!”

We started walking up the sidewalk, stepping into the street when the crowds were thick on the sidewalk outside the bars that had entertainment. Music wafted out through the open doors. I wasn’t familiar with the tunes but hearing them live made me want to follow their rhythm. I thought I could probably become a fan. Expand my musical horizons.

When we passed through some shadows, Tank passed the drink back. Brady took it and offered it to me. Okay. I wasn’t old enough, but I didn’t want to seem like a prude, either. I compromised and took a very small sip. It was tasty, so I took another. I was pretty sure all the alcohol was on the bottom and I’d lifted the straw up some, so I was drinking from the middle. The alcohol-free zone. Sounded reasonable to me. Not that a cop would buy into my reasoning.

A vision flashed through my mind of having to call Mom and Dad to bail me out of jail. Wouldn’t that be just great? I wondered if that was how things worked for Saraphina. Pictures just flashed through her mind and they could mean nothing, something, everything. How did she know which ones mattered?

Brady didn’t bother with a straw. He just gulped down some frozen concoction. We passed another bar, and Tank went inside.

I looked around. “Where’s Amber?”

Jenna turned in a slow circle, then shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“She and Sean ducked into one of the bars we passed back there to listen to the music,” Brady said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

How had I missed that? I hadn’t seen Amber and Sean slip away. I guess maybe I was paying too much attention to Brady. But sitting down and listening to a band sounded like a terrific idea. One way to keep my shoes semiclean anyway. But then, I also wanted to see everything there was to see out here, too.

“We can go back there if you want,” Brady said.

He didn’t say it with much enthusiasm. I didn’t know him well enough to read between the lines, but I had a feeling that he wanted to keep walking. I didn’t know how I knew that. I just did.

“No, I’d rather explore.”

“Great! Let’s at least go to the end of what they’ve got blocked off. See what other stuff they’ve got going on. Then we can head back, find the bar they’re in.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I’m known for my plans.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. That’s what architects do. Draw up plans.”

He gave me a smile that seemed to say I was part of those plans. Or maybe I was just reading things into his expression that I wanted to be there. Maybe he was really talking about blueprints. Although part of me was hoping for the more personal meaning. We were having a good time. And I suddenly wanted to have a good time. A really good time. Show Drew that I was finished moping about him. Have Jenna post a hundred of those pictures for him to see.

Tank came out of the bar with a yellow frozen drink. “Banana,” he said, boldly offering it to Jenna.

She took it without hesitating.

We started walking up the street again.

“More?” Brady asked, holding the strawberry daiquiri toward me.

“Uh, no, but thanks.”

I felt like a total downer, but my parents had let me come here because they trusted me not to get into trouble. Trust was a heavy burden, a double-edged sword. Too many clichés to name. But I didn’t want to do something the first night that would have me back home the second.

Brady finished the daiquiri, crumpled up the plastic cup—why do guys always feel a need to crumple whatever they’ve been drinking out of?—and tossed it in a nearby trash can.

“We need to get you some beads,” he said.

I was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about buying me any that were hanging in the windows of the many shops.

Guys stood on balconies, dangling beads, and yelling at girls walking by. Whenever a girl lifted her top, a guy would toss her a strand or two. Unless he was totally wasted, in which case the beads landed on nearby trees or shrubbery. Beads were pretty much all over the place.

“I’ve decided not to do everything the first night,” I said. “I want to leave something for later in the summer.”

Brady chuckled, leaned near my ear, and whispered, “Chicken.”

Okay, maybe I was. I’d never even lifted my shirt for Drew.

“Don’t look so serious,” Brady said. “I’m just teasing.”

“I guess I don’t know you well enough—”

“To share what’s underneath that tee?”

“To know when you’re teasing,” I corrected.

“There is that.”

He released his hold on me, which I realized felt strange. Not to have him holding me. I almost felt bereft. But that didn’t make sense. I’d just met the guy.

He moved so he was standing near a balcony. Waving his arms, he was yelling up at the people leaning over the railing. I’d seen only guys on the balconies, but this one had girls, too. Probably in college. When Brady got their attention, he laughed and pulled his T-shirt up and over his head, then he swung it around like a lasso.

Someone bumped against me. I barely noticed.

Brady was buff. Nothing at all like Drew.

I’d tried to interest Drew in various charity runs. He’d always been willing to sponsor me if I was participating, which I’d thought was nice, but I had a feeling that Brady actually ran. And worked out, and engaged in outdoor activities. Based on the bronzed darkness of his back, I had a feeling he spent most of his time in the sun.

I watched as dozens of beads dropped through the air. Brady snagged them. He was hamming it up, dancing around, strutting his stuff. The party girls were whistling, dropping more beads, inviting him up.

Brady was being crazy, dancing around, having fun, not caring what anyone thought.

I started laughing. He hadn’t struck me as being quite so uninhibited, but it was all in the spirit of New Orleans. I think everyone around him was having as much fun as he was.

I was really, really glad that I was there, involved, part of the madness.

Brady turned toward me, holding up all the strands of beads, smiling like some returning explorer who was delivering gold to his queen or something. He dropped them down over my head.

Then, grinning broadly, he wrapped his fingers around them, pulled me toward him, and kissed me.

Right there in the middle of Bourbon Street, with people pushing past us and music filling the night.