Page 4 of January (New Orleans #1)

“I n 1718, the French Quarter was founded as a military-style grid of some seventy squares by a naval officer named Jean Baptiste Bienville. The French Period legacy endures in the town plan and central square, church of St.Louis, Ursuline Convent, and street names like Bourbon and Royal. You’ll also see it in the mix of Creole culture, everyone’s favorite Mardi Gras, and more as you continue on with your trip. I hope you enjoyed our tour today. If you have any questions, I’m happy to answer them, but if not, this is where I leave you to go about the Quarter on your own,” Melinda said.

She gave nearly the same speech at the end of every tour as well as began with similar words, liking the idea of bringing everything full circle when it ended. She had completed the Garden District tour earlier and had planned to wrap up her day in the office, but an influx of walk-ins had the office in need of another Quarter tour. Jill was already out on another, and Melinda was the only one around, so she took the fifteen college-aged people who were likely still on their winter break and wanted one last weekend of fun. While they did get college students on tours often, they didn’t always get them for the Quarter tour. Typically, they just walked around, entered the bars, left the bars with drinks in hand, and entered new ones. This group hadn’t had any questions, which didn’t surprise her, and when she wrapped it up, they all dispersed. Two of them had tipped her, so at least she’d made a little extra by doing the additional tour.

“Hey, you’re still wearing your work clothes,” Bridgette noted, walking up to Melinda in the middle of the street.

“I was going to go home and change. Had to take an unexpected tour. And you’re early.”

“I was going to start without you,” Bridgette replied, her green eyes hitting the old lantern light, allowing the golds to bounce around the orbs.

“That bad of a day?” she asked.

Bridgette looked her up and down and said, “Actually, you’re hot, and I plan to go home with someone tonight, so keep the uniform. I don’t want you to distract them.”

Melinda laughed and said, “Thank you?”

“Oh, please. You know you’re gorgeous. I’d date you if I were at all interested.”

“I think there’s still a compliment in there somewhere,” Melinda replied.

“Obviously,” Bridgette told her sarcastically. “But if you must change, I can get us a drink and find a table before the place fills up.”

“I guess I ’m not looking to take anyone home, so it doesn’t matter how I look,” Melinda replied.

“That’s the spirit,” Bridgette joked, looping her arm through Melinda’s and turning them around to head toward the part of the street where there were rainbow flags.

There were gay places all over the city of New Orleans, but most of the gay bars were in the north section of the Quarter along the Lavender Line, a strip of St.Ann Street that intersected with Bourbon Street. When Melinda did go out on the Quarter, which wasn’t all that often anymore, she typically ended up there, where she felt more comfortable.

Her friend, Bridgette, was a couple of years older than Melinda’s twenty-five, but she hadn’t grown up in New Orleans. Her family had come here from Baton Rouge when she was in high school, which was where Melinda had met her. Despite Bridgette being two years older, they’d become friends until she’d graduated, and they’d kept in touch until Bridgette was out of college. Her family owned a small, independent greeting card company where Bridgette worked and would take over one day. If someone had just met the woman, though, they likely wouldn’t have pegged her as someone who enjoyed writing and drawing greeting cards that spoke of love, well wishes, and happiness, but Bridgette loved the company and her job. She knew she’d never be a millionaire, but Bridgette wasn’t the kind of person to care about that. She liked seeing the cards that her company had created in the small gift shops in the city and around the state of Louisiana, which was primarily where they were sold.

“Okay. I’m ready,” Bridgette told her.

“I know. That’s why we’re going out.”

“No, I mean, I’m really ready.”

“Bridge, you’ve said that. You’ve got me wondering if you’re maybe saying it a few too many times because you’re not actually ready.”

“Well, I just had my heart broken, Mel. Give a girl a minute.”

“I’m not the one looking to meet someone.”

“For the night, not for forever.”

“Why don’t you just swipe right on someone and tell them your intentions?”

“I tried. No one struck my fancy. But I’m hoping if I see someone in person, they might, and I might finally have someone else touch me because my right hand is exhausted.”

Melinda laughed and said, “They make things for that, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Those are exhausted, too. I’ve got three different ones charging right now, actually, just in case I need them later.”

“It’s been, like, six months, Bridge,” Melinda noted as they walked.

The crowd wasn’t yet massive, but it would be soon. Even in the off-season, the streets would be packed.

“I loved her, Mel,” Bridgette replied. “And I know we were only together for six months, so I should be over her by now, but I’m not yet.”

“But I thought you were ready.”

“For sex, yes. Sex with a hot tourist who I never have to see again. For a relationship? I don’t know that part yet. But I don’t have to answer that question tonight because I plan to be honest with any of the ladies I talk to. ”

“Where do you want to go?” Melinda asked.

“Anywhere. I plan to hop.” Bridgette pulled Melinda into a bar. “There. A table. Grab it. I’ll get us drinks.”

Melinda headed to the small two-top table and pulled up the chair. Surprised to even find a table and chairs available, she yanked the empty one over closer to her, making it clear that it was hers and that she was waiting for someone she knew to come back and take it. She’d grown accustomed to claiming her space from tourists a long time ago. Then, she watched as Bridgette ordered them drinks and waited for them to be made. Looking around and seeing the mix of men and women in the place, Melinda had a feeling they wouldn’t be hanging out here long. That was confirmed when Bridgette walked back over without their drinks in hand and nodded toward the door. Melinda sighed and followed her out.

“I wasn’t feeling it,” Bridgette said.

“We’re in the Quarter. Do you want to go somewhere else, maybe?”

“I don’t know,” Bridgette replied, sighing and looking up and down the street.

“What about that pub off Magazine? It’s touristy and local.”

“It’s also straight,” Bridgette added.

“But I’m starving, and they have food there. They will also have tables, and they have that balcony where we can sit and check out people walking by. Maybe you’ll find someone there.”

“Doubt it.”

“Well, it could happen when you least expect it.”

“Now, you sound like one of my greeting cards.”

Melinda laughed and walked them out of the Quarter toward where she knew they could order a car. Usually, she walked or took public transit nearly everywhere in the city, but she’d been walking all day and had to take that extra tour, so she was exhausted and didn’t want to have to wait for the bus. Cabs were still everywhere, but shared rides were even more common these days, making it easy enough to hop in a car for a couple of miles when her feet were tired or if she’d had too much to drink. Tonight, she guessed, Bridgette would be the one to do the drinking, so getting some greasy food in her might not be a bad idea.

They got out of their shared ride at the corner of Magazine and Poydras due to a traffic back up and turned away from the casino and in the direction of the pub Melinda had been to at least a thousand times by now. Bridgette followed her inside through the shutter doors after their IDs were checked by the bouncer. The full bar downstairs was already packed, but Melinda knew the upstairs one would be less so. She pulled Bridgette up the stairs and around a corner to the balcony, where there was a line of tables, half of them empty.

“Here,” she said, walking to the one at the end, where they’d have a full view of the street below.

“You stay. I’ll go inside and grab drinks,” Bridgette replied.

Melinda sat down at the metal table that wobbled and waited for Bridgette to return. A few minutes later, her friend walked down holding two beers and looking gleeful.

“What happened in there? Did you get laid in the three minutes you were gone? If so, you really were hard up, if it happened that fast.”

“Shut up,” Bridgette said, chuckling. “No, I didn’t get laid. But I did see the woman who I’m kind of hoping will be responsible for my orgasms tonight. And yes, I said orgasms , plural, because I want more than one.” She sat down at the table and passed Melinda her beer.

“Who?” Melinda asked.

“She’s inside. I had to go downstairs because the line up here got long, and I saw her walk in. Technically, she walked in with someone, but it didn’t seem like they were together. I’m hoping it’s a friends thing.”

“Then, why are you here and not down there, talking to her?”

“She’s on her way up. They ordered food to-go, and the bartender told them to wait up here for it. ”

“Should I disappear for a few minutes so that you look like you’re alone?” Melinda asked, picking up her beer.

“No, just sit here. There’s only one other empty table now, and it’s right behind us, so I’m hoping they take it, and I can eavesdrop and find out if I’m right about it not being a date.”

“I feel like I’m playing a spy game or something,” she joked.

“Shut up. She’s here,” Bridgette said, nodding.

Melinda turned her head.

“Don’t look.”

“You just said she’s–”

“Yeah, but I don’t want her to think I’m being creepy or something.”

“You are being creepy,” Melinda replied, turning back again. “And I’m not allowed to look at her?”

“Hold on. They’re going to sit down. Shit.”

“What?” she asked, looking at Bridgette.

“I missed an empty one. They’re sitting, like, three tables away from us instead. I can’t listen in now.”

“You might have to actually walk up to her and ask if you can buy her a drink,” Melinda replied.

“But she’s with someone. What if I’m wrong and they’re together?”

“What if you’re really wrong and she’s straight?”

“This is why I wanted a gay bar.”

“As if no straight woman ever walks into gay bars.”

“But the odds would’ve been more in my favor, though,” Bridgette argued. “She’s cute.”

“Can I at least turn around and look now?”

“Fine. But quickly. And don’t be weird about it.”

Melinda laughed and turned her head around.

“Which one?”

“Blonde. About my age or maybe younger. I can’t tell ages.”

“There are two blondes, Bridge.”

“The one that’s facing us right now. ”

Someone walked by the table, blocking Melinda’s view for a moment, but once they were gone, she was able to see her. The woman’s blonde hair was down and had frizzed a little in the humidity the city still offered this time of year. To Melinda, this made her think that she was a tourist since a lot of the locals understood how to deal with the humid climate when it came to going out and doing one’s hair. She couldn’t tell the color of her eyes from where she was, but they looked soft and kind. Her nose was cute, all buttoned up and the perfect size for her somewhat round face. Melinda smiled and lowered her eyes because she didn’t want to risk getting caught.

“See? Hot, right?” Bridgette said.

Melinda wasn’t sure she’d use the word hot to describe the woman she’d just blushed at the sight of. Cute, beautiful, adorable, and some other words like that? Yes. But hot? She wasn’t sure yet. There was something about calling her hot that made it feel like it was about what Bridgette wanted to do with her and not about how she actually looked. Was she really hot? Yes, she was attractive, so Melinda would call her hot, but right now, she thought she was beautiful.

“Yeah,” she said, turning back to Bridgette reluctantly. “She is, Bridge. Good choice.”

She internally rolled her eyes at herself.

“What do you think I should do now?” Bridgette asked. “Maybe wait for one of them to go to the bathroom or something?”

“I honestly don’t know,” she replied, taking a drink of her beer. “She could be straight, Bridge.”

“Or, she could be a raging lesbian, out with her wife. She’s hot, and I’m horny, Mel.”

Melinda laughed and nearly spat out her beer.

“Too much information?” Bridgette asked.

“Just go talk to her,” Melinda suggested, feeling a tinge of disappointment.

“Okay. I can do that. Will you talk to the other one if they are friends? Be a good wingwoman? ”

“Talk to her? Yes. Sleep with her? No,” she replied.

“You drive a hard bargain, Andrews,” Bridgette said. “Okay. What’s my opener?”

“How about you just say, ‘Hello?’”

“Too basic.”

“Basic? It’s a greeting. Are you going to go with some lame pick-up line she’s heard before?”

“No, I can’t do that, either.” Her friend sighed and took a long pull from her beer. “I guess I can just do a walk-by.”

“A walk-by?”

“Where you walk by them, give them the look, and see if they follow,” Bridgette explained.

“You do that?”

“I haven’t yet, but I’m thinking about it right now,” her friend replied, standing up. “No, I’m going to just do it.”

“Oh, okay. I guess I’ll just sit here and wait.”

“Yeah. I’ll call you over if I need you. If not, I’ll text. Are you good to get home?”

“I was planning on walking when we were in the Quarter, so I’d have to–”

“Shit,” Bridgette interjected.

“What?” Melinda turned around.

“Their food is here. And it’s to-go, remember?”

“They’re leaving?”

“Not yet. I’ll be right back.”

Melinda watched as Bridgette placed her beer down on the table and headed toward the two blondes, walking past them, glancing toward the woman she was interested in, and then entering the bar. Melinda waited because that was what she was supposed to do. A minute later, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Bridgette Musgrave : She didn’t even look up. Not a good sign. Maybe I’m not really ready for this. Can we go? I can try again another night.

Having read the text, Melinda stood, picked up both of their unfinished beers, dropped them into the nearby trash can, and on her way out, she walked by the table in question. Not meaning to, she looked down at the woman who was in conversation with the other blonde at the table, and when the woman looked up and met Melinda’s eyes, she offered her a small smile. Melinda smiled back before she quickly averted her own eyes and made her way into the bar to leave.