I was expecting her to say “yes,” she called them as soon as she got to the room. Instead, she shook her head no.
“They’re probably worried,” I pointed out.
She shrugged. “I’m grown.”
That was not a Lila Kate response. I couldn’t decide if I liked this change or not. I’d grown up knowing there were two things I could depend on. That my dad was never going to make me forget what was expected of me. And that Lila Kate Carter was going to always do the right thing.
She’d just blown that out of the water.
“You’ve been grown awhile. What made you decide to embrace it?”
She didn’t look at me. She kept her gaze straight ahead. “Life.”
That was all she was going to say. Life. As if that made sense. I was in New Orleans babysitting her, and she was dressing like . . . like . . . like a fucking girl I’d pick up in a club, giving me one-word answers, and rebelling against everything she’d ever done.
I pushed for more answers. “What inspired this fit of rebellion?”
The pinched frown that came over her face was interesting. There was something, but I doubted if she was going to tell me. At least not yet. Our journey had just begun. Eventually, she’d tell me.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” was her final answer.
I didn’t push. I would let it go for now. “Fine. So tell me what is it you want to see on Bourbon Street?”
This brought a smile to her face. “I have no idea. I just want to see it. And can we get beignets? I’ve always wanted to try the real things.”
“Yeah, we can. Beignets are better if you eat them sober. Let’s do that before we hit Bourbon Street.”
I expected her to tell me she didn’t plan on drinking. But she didn’t. She just nodded in agreement. Jesus. I hoped she wasn’t planning on getting drunk. Not dressed like that.
“How far can you walk in those shoes?” I asked.
“Miles.”
I started to argue and decided to let it go. If she wanted to walk in them, it wasn’t my business. Her toes could hate her later.
Lila Kate dropped her bags off quickly. She grinned like a little kid on our way to get beignets. I kept waiting for her to complain about the shoes she was wearing, but she never did. She seemed completely taken in with the scenery around her. Watching her experience New Orleans was more fun than my first trip. She was soaking it in. We had to stop to watch a group of guys doing a street show, flipping over people. Then we had to stop to watch a kid dance. Both times she left tips and clapped excitedly. It was fucking cute. That was the side of Lila Kate I knew. The innocence that only she made appear beautiful.
When the white powder from the beignets got all over her hands and shirt, she laughed as if it was the best thing that had happened all day. She dusted it off with ease, and then asked if there were places to go dancing.
Night had finally started to fall, and it was time to take her to the center of it all. Lila’s wide-eyed wonder as we entered Bourbon Street from Canal Street made me wish I had a fucking camera. Just to remember this. I needed a drink. My head was getting all fucked up. I needed to drink and get shit straight. Not think about taking photos of Lila.
“We’ll start here and make our way down,” I told her turning into a bar with live music. It was hit or miss with these places. You just had to go in them all until you found the best music. Most of them had the same drinks.
Lila beamed as we walked into the first bar. It was already crowded; the music playing was old eighties rock. I went directly to the bar. “What do you want?” I asked her.
“I don’t know. What do you suggest?”
“You’ve drunk before, Lila.
“Yes, but I always order the same thing. I want to do something different. Be someone different.”
“We’re in New Orleans. Why don’t you try a hurricane?”
“Sounds good to me.”
I wasn’t into drinking the sweet shit, but most girls liked that kind of drink. I ordered a Jack Daniels and a hurricane. The bartender was a female with creamy tan skin and clear blue eyes. The top she was wearing left little to the imagination, and I didn’t mind enjoying the view. When she turned to get my order, she winked at me and although I knew those lashes were fake they were hot. So were her ass cheeks hanging out of the shorts she had on. God, I loved Bourbon Street.
I glanced back to see Lila Kate studying the place as if she needed to memorize every detail. She was fine, so I turned my attention back to the bartender. She swung her hips as she walked back my way carrying the drinks. “I get off at two,” she said as she slid them in front of me.
“I’ll remember that,” I replied and gave her a fifty. “I don’t need change.”
She looked over my shoulder. “The girl with you?”
“A friend,” I replied.
“Well, your friend may need some help,” the bartender told me. Snapping my attention off her nipples I could see through the thin fabric of her shirt, I looked around to find Lila Kate.
Two guys were saddled up beside her doing their pretty boy flirting. She seemed nervous but was smiling and talking to them. When her eyes swung over in my direction, I saw the uncertainty there, and I moved toward her.
This was going to be a long night. Maybe I should have ordered a double.
Lila Kate
“IT’S THE FUCKING clothes,” Cruz muttered to me after he handed me my drink then slipped his arm around my waist and moved me away from the two guys who had been trying to convince me to come to some frat party they were having nearby.
“What is?” I asked confused.
“The guys. You dress like that, and you’re gonna have guys swarming.”
He sounded annoyed. After I had just watched him all but drool over the bartender who might as well have been wearing a bikini. Or heck, topless. I could see through her thin white shirt from where I was and she wasn’t wearing a bra. I looked classy compared to her.
“There is nothing wrong with my clothes,” I spat back at Cruz. Then took another drink of the delicious concoction he’d gotten me.
“Skirts too short and you’re showing off your stomach.”
I spun around and glared at him. “That waitress you were ogling is barely clothed. Her bottom is hanging out of her shorts! And you’re saying I’m not dressed okay? But you enjoyed seeing her naked boobs through that top that is pointless.”
He scowled. “You’re not like her.”
What the heck? “You are a pig!” I yelled then stormed past him into the street. I needed my distance because I was tempted to toss this red drink in his face.
“Lila!” he called out behind me. I kept stalking off. I had no idea where I was going, but I was going somewhere. “Lila, for Christ sake stop!”
I ignored him.
“You’re being dramatic,” he said and I thought about that. Maybe I was a touch sensitive. So I slowed down. This street was packed with people, and as exciting as it seemed it probably wasn’t safe for me to get lost on.
“All I am saying is you look . . .” he paused and rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. “You look like fucking Snow White has decided to go naughty. Okay? It’s very fucking erotic to see someone who looks like you dressed in something like that. The waitress in there—a guy expects her to dress that way. She looks like a porn star. You look like a Disney Princess dressed up like a porn star, and that is exciting to a man. Don’t ask me why. I can’t explain it. We are all bastards, okay?”
I studied him letting his words sink in. Then I started to laugh. I couldn’t help myself. It wasn’t the drink because I’d barely drank any of it. The way he had just described me was hilarious.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked, his face frustrated and confused.
I caught my breath and then laughed some more. He watched me like I had lost my mind. When I could finally breathe enough to form a sentence, I said, “You just called me a Disney Princess porn star.”
Cruz kept his frown at first, and then he slowly started to grin. “It was the best example I had.”
I took a sip of my drink. “I don’t look like Snow White.”