I leaned against the window and cracked my neck on both sides as I watched the crush of people waiting for the parade to turn down Canal Street. I didn’t know or care which parade this was; I only cared that I was out of the shop and the next piece of flash that someone wanted inked on their body was Delilah’s problem.

It made me wish my boss didn’t have a policy about blocking off time that appointments could otherwise have filled during these three weeks of the year. So instead of challenging artistic pieces, I had tourists wanting shamrocks on their asses and names on their arms.

I scanned the crowd, trying to pick out the next one who’d walk through the door. I didn’t actually care who it would be. I only wanted the distraction.

But I had no idea how big of a distraction I was about to find.

I’D PICKED THE ROOSEVELT BECAUSE I figured I couldn’t go wrong with a Waldorf hotel, even though I’d never actually stayed at one. When the cabbie dropped me off, excitement warred with anxiety as I climbed out of the cab. Sucking in a deep breath as the bellman opened the door, I walked into the lobby covered with gold gilt and intricate tile work.

I can do this, I told myself.

But apparently I couldn’t. At least, not here.

After I waited ten minutes in line, the front-desk clerk stared at me like I was an idiot when I asked for a room and informed him I didn’t have a reservation.

“We don’t have any vacancies. I’m sorry, ma’am, you’re unlikely to find anything close to the French Quarter with Mardi Gras coming up next week.” His words, in that condescending tone, seemed to carry an extra punch to crush the excitement I’d been feeling.

Mardi Gras. How could I have forgotten?

“Do you have any suggestions where else I could try?” I asked, trying to keep a positive attitude.

The front-desk clerk was already looking over my shoulder and waving the next person forward. “I’m sorry, I really have no idea. Maybe someplace out near the airport?”

Dismissed.

I forced a smile and thanked him as I dragged my suitcase across the lobby. When I’d pictured all the traveling I would do while tacking things to my bulletin board, it had never occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to find something so simple as a hotel room.

Making my way through the brass-framed doors, I stepped out onto a sidewalk that swarmed with people. Screams and cheers came from half a block away, and it seemed like that was the direction everyone was heading. CANAL STREET, the sign in the distance read. I heard the music next, and my frustration at the hotel clerk’s lack of assistance faded away when I realized I was going to see my first Mardi Gras parade.

A wide smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. For the first time in my life, I’d be able to check something off one of my Must Do lists. This was living.

With my suitcase trailing me, I tried to see what was happening in the street, but at five foot six, I didn’t have a height advantage on many. All I could see was the back of people’s heads as I reached the crowd.

“I see a better spot across the street. Wanna go?” a girl dressed in a neon-green bikini top, tiny black shorts, and fishnet tights yelled to her friend who was similarly dressed. The other girl nodded, and I made a snap decision to follow them as they pushed through the mass of people. Nothing was going to stop me from seeing this parade.

Avoiding elbows and shouts, I plowed through, lifted my suitcase, and ran across the street.

My first clear view of the street showed the parade still a good hundred yards away. I dodged the people gathered on neutral ground and crossed the next lanes without incident. The crowd swallowed me up on the other side, and a shaft of claustrophobia speared through me when I realized I couldn’t see over them either.

“Show us your tits!” The raucous calls came from every direction, and beads were tossed through the air like confetti.

The Must Do list also mentioned catching beads on Bourbon Street (without showing my boobs), but before I could decide whether catching beads on Canal Street was a suitable substitute, a body crashed into me, catching me off guard. I lurched sideways, tripping over a woman wearing a pair of snakeskin boots that stretched up to her thighs.

“Whoa, watch it!”

I started to apologize, but her elbow flew out and caught me in the ribs, and sent me stumbling further.

Holding on to my suitcase with a death grip, I reached out to catch my fall with my other hand, but my palm connected with something fleshy. My gaze zeroed in on my fingers, and I yanked my hand away.

Oh my God, you cannot be serious.

A penis, painted gold. Connected to a man who was completely naked but for the gold, purple, and green glittery stripes covering his soft body.

“I gotcha, darlin’.” Slurred words accompanied the hands that gripped my arms and pulled me upright.

The naked painted man is touching me. E

Why couldn’t he at least be hot? Seriously, would that be so much to ask?

Abort mission. Abort.

Holding on to my suitcase, I barreled through the crowd and didn’t slow until I reached a break in the chaos at the mouth of an alley, once again behind the crowd blocking the oncoming parade. Crap. Focused on finding another place to stand that would give me a view, I didn’t see the man who reached out and grabbed the back of my pink-and-white polo shirt.

“Hey! You don’t have any beads.” He jerked me around before a huge guy wearing a leather vest with nothing under it yanked me toward his hairy chest.

“I can fix that for her,” the man in a similar vest said from beside him.

“I’m not interested in any beads. I’ll thank you to take your hands off me now.” I twisted, trying to get out of his hold, but the other man grabbed my arm as beer splashed between us, splattering my shirt.

“Hey, you need a place to stay, girl? I got room for you in my bed.” Hairy Chest released me to grab his crotch.

I reared back, latching onto my suitcase as the other guy lunged toward me. I opened my mouth to scream, but a deep voice ripped through the crowd behind me.

“You’re late for your appointment. I don’t like to wait.”

Both men’s attention broke away from me as they turned in the direction of the voice.

What the hell? Appointment?

The voice came closer. “I haven’t killed anyone in a long fucking time, but I’m happy to change that if you don’t get your hands off her.”