Page 14 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

Dana was breathless with laughter as George expertly spun her around the six-by-six foot dance floor of the aptly named Apple Barrel Bar on Frenchman Street. Her shirt was drenched through with sweat, but she didn’t mind.

Normally, it would’ve made her self-conscious, but everyone she bumped into was in the same boat. She couldn’t even fathom what New Orleans was like in the summer. But if she could feel this carefree, she wouldn’t mind if she sweat her clothes clean off.

The music was partly to blame. The three-piece rock band was playing their hearts out on the makeshift stage that was barely big enough for one.

Dana couldn’t stop herself from swaying to the rhythm.

George seemed moved by the same demons as he pulled her close, guiding her around the packed dance floor.

He even managed to dip her which seemed impossible in the crowded space.

A place like this would never pass inspection in D.C.

But tonight, Dana was grateful for the leniency of historic properties.

The bodies gyrating with her on the dance floor were clearly over the marked capacity, but things like that didn’t matter when the music and booze were flowing.

Especially once the second line band showed up.

The lively brass band pulled every patron from the Frenchman Street establishments, including the musicians, moving the party to the street.

Dana followed George to the corner, gratefully sucking down the sticky sweet libation he’d offered her in a Styrofoam cup.

She bobbed to the upbeat jazz, watching everyone take turns out-dancing each other.

It was ‘joie de vivre’ in its purest form.

People flocked from all over the world to experience New Orleans’s unique cultural phenomenon.

And now that Dana had a hold of the quintessential feeling of joy, she understood why.

Freedom swelled through her chest with each beat of the music.

It could make her forget anything, even death.

Which was precisely the band’s job during a jazz funeral.

To dance their way into the afterlife and to celebrate the living.

A constant reminder that life is meant to be lived and lived well.

Too soon, the second line musicians moved on, taking their revelry with them. The rest of the street party dissipated, returning to whatever bar they’d spilled from. But George had his sights set on somewhere new and Dana rushed to keep up.

They pushed through the green and yellow glass doors of the Spotted Cat, another iconic jazz club on Frenchman.

It was small as well but seemed gargantuan after the cramped quarters of Apple Barrel.

George raised his hand, greeting those he knew in the crowd.

Two complimentary icy cold rocks glasses were thrust toward him.

Dana accepted the one he passed her, taking a sip of the strong spirits, then pressing the cool glass to her chest.

She’d just claimed a coveted seat at the bar, when she heard a chant pick up in the club. She was both surprised and delighted when she realized the patrons were all yelling George’s name.

“Do you play?” Dana shouted over the din.

George grinned, giving a modest shrug. “When I must.” He downed his drink and placed it on the bar next to her.

He raised two fingers, and two more high-octane cocktails were slung their way.

Dana was still working on her first one.

It burned on the way down, the kind of drink one might say ‘put hair on your chest.’

“What is this?” she asked, downing the drink like George had. “ Sazerac,” he replied. “Drink slow, and don’t go anywhere,” he said, before skimming her cheek with the briefest kiss.

The next thing Dana knew, she was watching her personal tour guide for the night take the stage.

George bowed to the riotous applause and settled himself behind the piano.

He grabbed a purple fedora from the top of the old upright and set it crookedly on his head.

Then, he began pounding the ivory keys like he owned them.

Applause erupted through the bar like thunder. As the rest of the jazz quartet joined in, Dana grinned, letting herself get swept away.