Part 12 (2/2)

I frowned in mock disgust. ”Hey, you don't see me pawing you right now, do you?”

I turned over on to my side and pulled her to me, wrapping my arm around her waist until she was pressed up against me. ”Let's just sleep,” I whispered in her hair. ”We've earned it.”

We were out in seconds flat.

Deep N' Easy was located on Frenchman street, just out of the Quarter. Perry and I trailed behind Rose and Maximus as we walked down the rough sidewalk, peering at the never ending vibrancy around us, from the open-air bars spilling out onto the street, to the endless music coming out from all directions, to the various tattoo shops.

I pointed to one of them. ”Ever think of getting a tattoo?”

She shrugged and bit her lip. ”I have some ideas...”

”Tell me,” I said. I never pegged Perry to be one of those types; she seemed too indecisive for that.

She shook her head, suddenly coy. ”No, it would be a surprise.”

”A surprise?” I both loved and hated surprises. ”Is it a picture of my c.o.c.k? Did my letterman jacket give you the idea?”

She rolled her eyes. ”I'm not telling you.” She kept walking, trying to catch up with Maximus and Rose. I waited a few beats, concentrating on her, hoping I could get a thought out of her and find out what the surprise was. All I got was the sharp stab of a headache instead.

I hurried after her and she tossed me a smug look over her shoulder. She was enjoying her tattoo secret too much. I supposed I hadn't been too forthcoming with my ”Within your Light I Lose the Madness” on my back either.

”Is it a fleur-de-lis?” I asked, rolling up my t-s.h.i.+rt sleeve to show her the one on my insanely buff arm. ”Considering there are fleur-de-lis all over the place here, you'd fit right in. And we'd match.”

Her eyes paused on my muscles briefly before her blase look returned. ”That's pretty lame, Dex, even for you.”

”More or less lame than the c.o.c.k?”

”Would y'all hurry up?” Rose yelled. They had stopped outside a bar, the slow thumping of ba.s.s pounding through the brick walls. The light inside was bathing everyone in red.

”Deep N' Easy,” I remarked, reading the faded sign. ”Just the way I like it.”

Rose shook her head, unimpressed, and we followed her inside where we lined up in front of the bouncer. I leaned into her. ”You never smile, do you, Rose?”

She rolled her eyes and told the bouncer our names. He checked us off the list and told us to go inside.

Ambrosia spotted us first, waving casually from a table near the stage where the band slowly rumbled on. Like last night, it was a three piece set-up, but with a somber, coal-colored singer on acoustic guitar. His soul was bleeding out through the strings and I was excruciatingly jealous.

We sat down and Perry immediately got up and told us all she was getting the first round of drinks.

”Tell them you're with locals!” Rose yelled after her. ”Don't let them give you the tourist price.”

Ambrosia smiled at Maximus and I and I felt strangely giddy inside. It didn't make any sense and I had to shake my head to get rid of it. Fortunately, no one else had noticed. They were all staring at the band while Ambrosia explained who they were.

”Dead Frog's Blood,” she explained.

”Poetic,” I said. ”I guess they aren't known for being upbeat.”

She leaned toward me, her eyes sparkling. ”Oh, Mr. Foray, something tells me you know a lot about the blues. Even the blues can have a happy tale to tell.”

”Mr. Foray?” I repeated. ”You make me sound so old.”

”Well, you can't be more than twenty-five,” she said sincerely.

”Is it because I'm immature?”

”That.” She winked at me and then tossed her hair over her shoulder. ”And your girlfriend can't be much more than twenty-one.”

”She's twenty-three,” I explained.

”And how old are you?”

I swallowed. ”Thirty-two.”

”That's quite the age difference. I'm impressed.”

I shrugged. ”You gotta get them while they're young before they know what they're getting into.” I played it off like the age difference between us didn't plague me from time to time. That little niggling fear that I wanted what I wanted from her because I was older and ready for more in life, while she was still young and almost virginal (well, a little more experienced after last night), and probably had fields of wild oats in her left to sow. I didn't want to think about that.

Perry came back with the drinks: a pitcher of local brew for everyone else, a mint julep for herself, and a Jack Daniels and lemonade mix for me. It wasn't exactly what I wanted but it would do the job.

We all clinked gla.s.ses across the table and got down to business. Maximus explained to Ambrosia about the haunted house we wanted to film, while Rose told her that perhaps we were better off looking into the whole zombie epidemic. Ambrosia wasn't as thrilled with that idea.

”Rose,” she said with a smirk, ”sending tourists off into the inner city isn't the smartest thing you could do.”

”We'd be with them,” Rose said, pointing at Maximus. ”We're not tourists.”

”Right, as if that makes a difference,” she said. ”I'm half black and I'd still get held up in seconds, if I was lucky. Trust me, I want to figure out what's going on as much as you do, but I don't think they came here to dig up Voodoo. Just ghosts.”

”Well,” Perry spoke up, a strange fire burning in her eyes as she looked at Ambrosia, ”personally, I think investigating this whole zombie thing is a lot more interesting than the whole haunted house deal. I mean, I hate to sound condescending about the afterlife, but this is something new to us.”

If Ambrosia was put off by Perry's argument, she didn't show it. She smiled gently at her and said, ”You'd be right about that. For as long as I've been studying Voodoo, I've never seen a single case of this happening.”

I laughed. ”Sure, but you can't be much older than...what, twenty-eight?”

”I'll pretend that was a compliment. I'm twenty-six. But I'm a descendent of the great Marie Laveau. Perhaps you've heard of her?”

I sipped my drink. ”I don't know, I hear a lot of things. Who is that?”

Rose spoke up. ”Ambrosia's mother claimed to be the daughter of Marie's son.”

”Not claimed,” Ambrosia said, glaring at her. ”Proven. I have the DNA.”

”Even though Marie's children by Paris both died at a young age of yellow fever,” she countered.

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