Labor of Love Read online

  Brady and I walked in tandem, following Tank and Jenna. Their height made them easy to keep in sight.

  The street didn’t have a shortage of bars, which you’d probably expect of a street named Bourbon, although the name didn’t really refer to booze. At the time New Orleans was founded by the French, the French royal family was the House of Bourbon and Rue Bourbon was named to honor them. Yes, I’d spent a lot of time on Wikipedia, looking up facts that were probably only interesting to me. Which is why I didn’t share that one with Brady.

  We stopped just outside a corner daiquiri bar. The huge doors were wide open. People walked in, got their drinks, and strolled out. Behind the counter were several huge vats of frozen drinks, so it didn’t take very long to get served. The tables inside were crammed with people watching a baseball game on the TV hanging on the wall.

  “I don’t get that,” Brady said.

  “What?”

  “You’ve got all this stuff happening out here, and people are in there watching TV. I can watch TV at home. Why come here if that’s what you’re going to do?”

  “Maybe New Orleans is their home.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Or maybe they’re huge baseball fans.”

  “Still. I believe you gotta experience life, not watch it.”

  He looked at me like he thought I should agree. I didn’t know what to say. Up until this summer, my experiences were pretty limited. I didn’t want to get into an experience-listing competition.

  “I’m making a run,” Tank suddenly said.

  He went inside, leaving Jenna on the sidewalk. She had her cell phone out, pointed it at me, took a picture, and winked. For her MySpace page, no doubt. As proof to Drew that I’d totally gotten over him. Moved on.

  Who knew pictures could lie?

  It was only then that I realized I was still nestled snugly against Brady’s side. I didn’t want to be obvious about easing away from him, which meant that I stayed beside him because there was no way to move away without being obvious.

  So, okay, maybe I was just looking for an excuse to stay close. The weight of his arm around me felt really nice.

  “You’re not going to get something to drink?” I asked.

  He grinned and winked. “I’m not going in to buy something, but yeah, I’ll have something. Tank’s the only one who’s twenty-one. I might get carded if I tried to buy it, but I don’t usually get carded once I’m holding it.”

  I wondered if that was part of the reason he kept stubble on his chin, so he’d look older. It was considerably darker than his hair. It gave him a rough, dangerous look. Which gave me a thrill. To be with someone older, someone who looked like he could be trouble, someone who wasn’t Drew.

  “Sounds like you have a system,” I said. There I was again, being snide, trying to find that elusive flaw. What was wrong with me?

  “I believe in partying hearty. And tonight we’re pedestrians, so the only crashing that will take place is when we hit the beds.” He gave me his sexy grin. (Did he have any other kind?) “Who am I hurting?”

  Tank came out with a frozen red drink.

  “Strawberry daiquiri,” he said. “They give a free shot of Sex on the Beach, but I couldn’t bring it out, so I was forced to drink it myself.”

  “But you’re always willing to make the sacrifice,” Brady said.

  “You bet! Let’s party!”

  We started walking up the sidewalk, stepping into the street when the crowds were thick on the sidewalk outside the bars that had entertainment. Music wafted out through the open doors. I wasn’t familiar with the tunes but hearing them live made me want to follow their rhythm. I thought I could probably become a fan. Expand my musical horizons.

  When we passed through some shadows, Tank passed the drink back. Brady took it and offered it to me. Okay. I wasn’t old enough, but I didn’t want to seem like a prude, either. I compromised and took a very small sip. It was tasty, so I took another. I was pretty sure all the alcohol was on the bottom and I’d lifted the straw up some, so I was drinking from the middle. The alcohol-free zone. Sounded reasonable to me. Not that a cop would buy into my reasoning.

  A vision flashed through my mind of having to call Mom and Dad to bail me out of jail. Wouldn’t that be just great? I wondered if that was how things worked for Saraphina. Pictures just flashed through her mind and they could mean nothing, something, everything. How did she know which ones mattered?

  Brady didn’t bother with a straw. He just gulped down some frozen concoction. We passed another bar, and Tank went inside.

  I looked around. “Where’s Amber?”

  Jenna turned in a slow circle, then shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “She and Sean ducked into one of the bars we passed back there to listen to the music,” Brady said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

  How had I missed that? I hadn’t seen Amber and Sean slip away. I guess maybe I was paying too much attention to Brady. But sitting down and listening to a band sounded like a terrific idea. One way to keep my shoes semiclean anyway. But then, I also wanted to see everything there was to see out here, too.

  “We can go back there if you want,” Brady said.

  He didn’t say it with much enthusiasm. I didn’t know him well enough to read between the lines, but I had a feeling that he wanted to keep walking. I didn’t know how I knew that. I just did.

  “No, I’d rather explore.”

  “Great! Let’s at least go to the end of what they’ve got blocked off. See what other stuff they’ve got going on. Then we can head back, find the bar they’re in.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “I’m known for my plans.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yeah. That’s what architects do. Draw up plans.”

  He gave me a smile that seemed to say I was part of those plans. Or maybe I was just reading things into his expression that I wanted to be there. Maybe he was really talking about blueprints. Although part of me was hoping for the more personal meaning. We were having a good time. And I suddenly wanted to have a good time. A really good time. Show Drew that I was finished moping about him. Have Jenna post a hundred of those pictures for him to see.

  Tank came out of the bar with a yellow frozen drink. “Banana,” he said, boldly offering it to Jenna.

  She took it without hesitating.

  We started walking up the street again.

  “More?” Brady asked, holding the strawberry daiquiri toward me.

  “Uh, no, but thanks.”

  I felt like a total downer, but my parents had let me come here because they trusted me not to get into trouble. Trust was a heavy burden, a double-edged sword. Too many clichés to name. But I didn’t want to do something the first night that would have me back home the second.

  Brady finished the daiquiri, crumpled up the plastic cup—why do guys always feel a need to crumple whatever they’ve been drinking out of?—and tossed it in a nearby trash can.

  “We need to get you some beads,” he said.

  I was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about buying me any that were hanging in the windows of the many shops.

  Guys stood on balconies, dangling beads, and yelling at girls walking by. Whenever a girl lifted her top, a guy would toss her a strand or two. Unless he was totally wasted, in which case the beads landed on nearby trees or shrubbery. Beads were pretty much all over the place.

  “I’ve decided not to do everything the first night,” I said. “I want to leave something for later in the summer.”

  Brady chuckled, leaned near my ear, and whispered, “Chicken.”

  Okay, maybe I was. I’d never even lifted my shirt for Drew.

  “Don’t look so serious,” Brady said. “I’m just teasing.”

  “I guess I don’t know you well enough—”

  “To share what’s underneath that tee?”

  “To know when you’re teasing,” I corrected.

  “There is that.”