Page 2 of January (New Orleans #1)

“J ill, have you seen my list?” Melinda asked.

“Nope. Have you seen mine?”

“I’ve got them,” their boss and company owner said, laughing as she held out two pieces of paper. “I swear, you two.”

“If you’d only get an app, we’d have our lists on our phones, and we’d never lose them,” Jill remarked.

“I like it,” Melinda said, taking her list from the boss lady. “It’s old-school, and I appreciate simple.”

“There you go. See, Jill? Simple.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Jill laughed and took her own list. “So, cemetery today. Where do you go?”

“Garden District,” Melinda replied.

“Your favorite,” Jill said.

“I do love it.”

“A lot calmer than the Quarter,” Jill replied.

“And it’s a longer tour, so I only have it while you have the cemetery and Jackson Square today.”

“True. But we take a break at Café Du Monde, so I get coffee and beignets that are often bought for me by tourists who also still tip me.”

“I like my tips in cash,” Melinda pointed out. “I can’t pay my rent in beignets.”

“But if I eat ten beignets, I won’t be hungry for dinner later, so I’ll save money there.”

“Okay. I know I pay you both well enough to pay rent and eat,” their boss said, rolling her eyes at them.

“Do you want to grab lunch before we have to be back here?” Jill asked Melinda as she stared down at her list. “Only seven today?” she asked her boss.

“Off-season,” the woman replied. “And I’m going to run to the bank to drop off the deposit.”

“I only have six,” Melinda replied, looking down at her list of people who had signed up online for her tour. “We could get some walk-ins.”

“Likely, a few, but you two go to lunch. I’ll be back in ten minutes and run the desk if we do.”

Melinda was grateful for both her job and her boss. She’d been working at NOLA Guides since she first turned nineteen. Growing up in the city had given her an innate love for it, but over the years, she’d recognized that even if she hadn’t grown up here, she’d still be in love with the people, the music, the art, the atmosphere, and yes, even the humidity. Sometimes, it was so thick, Melinda brought a second uniform shirt to work because she’d sweat through the first one while walking around the city. They offered over a dozen different tours at NOLA Guides, and over the first year, she’d trained to give all of them and even made up one of her own that had since been added to the roster. Skipping college had been a risk, but it had been a good one, in her opinion. Now, she was twenty-five, and she knew she wanted to do this for a long time.

“You really like the Garden District tour?” Jill asked when they left the office and turned right toward their favorite Po-Boy place.

“Yes. Why?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t really change all that often. Every once in a while, a new celebrity moves in, and I guess that’s exciting for a few tours, but I prefer the Quarter because it’s different each time.”

“Not really. Same bars. Same galleries just on the other side of those bars. Same drunk tourists.”

“No, the old tourists go home, and new tourists show up.”

“Same behavior.”

“Maybe. But I like to think about each of them having a different story. Yesterday, I made up at least ten reasons why people were in town. One of them had her heart broken by her boyfriend and was sitting at a table, looking all forlorn, until a woman approached her.”

“Ah. I can guess how you turned that story around,” Melinda said, laughing a little.

“She left more than satisfied, and her broken heart was broken no more,” Jill replied.

“Was that in your story or in reality, though, Jill?”

“A woman did approach. She just borrowed an empty chair and walked off. But, in the story, the broken-hearted girl had a very sexy time on the dance floor before she got taken into the bathroom, causing a longer-than-usual line to form outside. They left after that, and the hotel room smelled like sex the next morning.”

“My God, you have an active imagination,” Melinda said, laughing some more.

“You don’t do that at all?”

“What? Imagine people having sex?”

“No, make up stories when the tour is dull and the tourists you’re walking around with aren’t really all that interested in what you’re saying.”

“Not really. I’m usually focusing on what I’m saying, even when a pre-teen is on his phone behind his parents, hoping they aren’t watching him post about how bored he is to his friends.”

Melinda pulled the old blue door open, practically feeling the wood contract from the unusual cold for the beginning of the new year. Whenever it was humid, though, the door expanded, and they had to leave it open during operating hours because it stuck so much that people would assume the place was closed, causing them to lose out on business. She couldn’t wait until they installed the new glass doors to replace this one soon, but she knew she’d miss the old blue gal at the same time. Melinda wasn’t sure New Orleans truly ever had an off-season, but the spring and summer months were certainly busier than the fall and winter, which made her love the winter months more than most. The lines weren’t as long, and she could chat up the proprietors to find out how things were going more easily .

“Hey, Mel!”

“Hey, Henry,” she greeted back with a wave.

The tall, lanky man with a graying mustache and little puffs of hair on his head gave her a smile and a laugh, despite her not saying anything funny.

“Usual?” he asked her.

“And Jill’s, too,” she replied. “How’s business?”

“Good. Good.” He went to enter their order on his old-timey cash register.

The old man had refused to upgrade to the newer models that had wireless payment options. He took credit cards, and that was as far as he would likely ever go.

“Hi, Mel,” HenryJr. said as he walked out from the back.

“Hi. How are you?” She offered him a polite smile.

The owner’s son, HenryJr., had just turned twenty-two, and as Jill constantly pointed out, he had a massive crush on Melinda, which made her feel bad for the guy since she was a lesbian. Had she been at all interested in men, she might have gone on a date with him. He was lanky like his father but had bulked up a little in his arms and chest. His brown skin was darker than his father’s and his mother’s, which gave him some Hollywood-star vibes, and his smile lit up any room. She remembered him telling her that when they’d shot a film nearby, he’d had not one but two people from the set ask if he was an actor or a model. He preferred the simple life, though, just like Melinda, which was another reason why, had things been different, she might have considered going on a date with him.

“I’m good. One more semester of school left,” he said.

“And then, you’re done with studying,” she joked.

“And then, it’s back here to help take over for the old man.”

“Hey!” Henry lightly punched his son on the shoulder. “This old man has a lot of years left in him. Besides, someone’s got to teach you how to make Mel’s order right because you always mess it up.”

“I do not,” HenryJr. argued .

“He’s so in love with you,” Jill whispered to her. “Look. He’s all embarrassed now.”

“Leave him alone,” Melinda whispered back.

HenrySr.’s father had been the one who had opened the sandwich shop, which had been more of a window back then, and HenrySr. had since expanded it a bit, but it was still only three indoor tables and the window that allowed people to buy even if they didn’t walk inside. On busy days, Melinda could call ahead and walk past the window, and they’d hand her the order. She’d always pay them for it later, but having that kind of relationship with the local business owners was yet one more reason why she loved it here.

After grabbing their sandwiches, they decided to sit at the last empty table and eat before going back to the office, where they both knew they’d just end up eating and working instead of taking a real break. Jill got them both bottles of water, and they sat down, unwrapping their food and looking out at the street through the window.

“So, what are you doing tonight?” Jill asked.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I was thinking about staying in and watching a movie or something. Want to come over? We can make popcorn.”

“Oh, shit,” she said. “I forgot. I’m supposed to hang out with Bridgette tonight. She’s single and, apparently, ready to mingle now.”

“I thought she was still getting over her ex,” Jill noted, taking a bite.

“Me too. But she told me yesterday that she wanted to go out and was at least ready to rebound. Do you want to come with us? I’m sure having both of us there to help her find someone would be better than just me.”

“Nah. I’m not really in the going-out mood. I think I’ll just do the movie-and-popcorn thing alone. Text me if you need me to walk you home if she ends up meeting someone. That, I can do.”

“We’ll be three minutes from my apartment. You know how safe I am. ”

“I do. I don’t know how safe everyone else is, though.”

“I told her that we could go out, and if she doesn’t meet anyone, she can at least get drunk and crash at my place. So, we’ll be fine.”

“You so lucked out with that apartment,” Jill noted.

“I did.” Melinda smiled. “If it had been you who started working at the company years ago, maybe she would’ve let you rent it from her instead.”

“I doubt it. You’re like the daughter she never had. You know that NOLA Guides will be left to you when she goes, right?”

“She’s only sixty. Let’s not talk about that, okay?”

Their boss had bought the tour company from someone who had left before Hurricane Katrina and hadn’t ever returned. It had come with the office and two apartments above it. Those two apartments hadn’t had any damage from the hurricane, and after a few years of them being rented out individually, they’d been combined together with an added staircase, making the two units into more of a one-unit townhome instead. Melinda hadn’t ever even seen the space, but when she needed a new place after her lease ended, her boss had walked her up the stairs behind the office and showed her the unit. Melinda had fallen in love with it instantly but hadn’t understood why she was being shown it when she’d been about to be homeless if she didn’t find something she could afford.

Her boss, the woman who had hired her all these years ago, trained her up and, yes, treated her very much like the daughter she’d never had, giving Melinda the keys and telling her that she’d remodeled the place just for her. The rent was more than reasonable, too, and came out of her paycheck. Making jokes about Melinda paying her rent was something special between the two of them, and Melinda often wondered if she’d ever move out of the place. It was old and beautiful, and, thanks to the stonework, it was relatively soundproof, so she rarely heard the goings-on down on street level. It had a back balcony overlooking the courtyard shared by all the buildings surrounding it. She’d made it her own, but she’d also hardly had to do anything to it to accomplish that goal. It had always just felt like it had been built for her.

“I’m thinking about maybe going back to school,” Jill blurted out randomly.

“Huh?”

“For my master’s degree.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Jill said. “I guess I’m just a little bored. I like giving tours. I just don’t know if I want to do it forever.”

“You went to college. You have a degree.”

“In marketing. I hate marketing.”

“Why did you major in it, then?” Melinda laughed.

“Well, I thought I liked it at some point,” Jill replied. “Anyway, I was thinking about something else, but I haven’t decided yet. I thought I could get the degree while I work, and maybe in a few years, when I’m done, I’ll find something I really love.”

“You could always take over the place with me, assuming she does leave it to me one day. It’s a long way off, probably. I know she says she’ll retire at sixty-five, but she won’t.”

“Please, that woman will work up until her second line. But that doesn’t mean she won’t sell it to you before that and just cut back or something,” Jill said, referring to the type of parade historically associated with jazz funerals, because their boss would undoubtedly get one as she’d been a New Orleans institution for her entire adult life.

They finished their sandwiches and said goodbye only to HenrySr. on their way out since HenryJr. had already disappeared into the back. Taking the short walk back to the office, Melinda looked around. Tourists were wandering in and out of buildings and chatting about what they’d bought or what their evening plans were. She smelled seafood and heard jazz coming from one of the bars. To her, New Orleans was always bathed in sound, and she loved that about this place. It was different than Manhattan, for example, which was also bathed in sound, but there, it was city noise. In New Orleans, it was art that surrounded her and kept her safe somehow.

“Looks like we’ve got a few walk-ins,” Jill said, nodding toward the front office door that a family had just pulled open.

“Yours or mine?”

“Family, so I’m guessing Garden District,” Jill replied.

“You’ll get some frat boys soon for your Quarter tour, so don’t be jealous,” Melinda teased as they approached the door.

Jill laughed, and they headed inside, where they walked behind the counter and grabbed their lists. Melinda put on her name tag and walked back outside, where she’d meet her tour group in five minutes. As people slowly began to gather around, she checked their names off her list, and when it was time to start, the family of walk-ins joined them and handed her their tickets. She laughed silently at how easily she and Jill could predict who would join which tour and began her welcome speech.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome to NOLA Guides! I’m your guide today. My name is Melinda, but you can call me Mel, if you’d like. Today, we’re going to be heading to the beautiful Garden District, so if you’re looking for another tour, now is the time to join my colleague, Jill, who is about to head out to the cemetery and Jackson Square.”

“Mom, I want to go to the cemetery,” a boy of about twelve said to his mother.

“Shh! Be polite,” the woman whispered back to him.

Melinda smiled and began the tour.