Rescued By A Kiss (The New Orleans Go Cup Chronicles Book 1) Read Free Page B

more marriage questions.
    “Try not to get into trouble or bring home any more dogs,” my mother said as I kissed her goodbye.
    Nodding his head toward my rear apartment, Dad said, “Your Mother and I will meet you in our usual spot. You girls go on now and don’t worry about . . .”
    “The stinky dog,” my mother said finishing his sentence. “I guess you better feed it along with the other three after you bathe it. What did you name it?”
    Outside, I picked up our pace to adjust to the chill in the damp night air. Woozie was right. It was a good night to catch a cold and to stay home. My parents’ house was one block off St. Charles Avenue, the major Mardi Gras parade route. We crossed the street and walked past St. Teresa’s Church. All of us, my sister, Dante, all Dante’s brothers, all the families on the block, had made our First Communion, Confirmation, and saw each other there every Sunday at Mass.
    I heard the thunderous approach of the motorcycle escorts. They revved their engines and it sounded like they were only a couple of blocks away.
    “You know Dante will be there on St. Charles Avenue at Lee Circle. He arranges his parade assignment so we can watch the parade together,” I said.
    Julia did an eye roll that made her look like she was going into a coma. “He gets himself assigned where you tell him you’re going to meet your friends so he can keep an eye on you. He’s on duty, so he’s watching for criminals or listening to that chatter from the radio in his ear. You’re in the same place at the same time. Big difference. You get to speak to him in between radio talk? Sounds like fun. Between him, your dad, and your mother, you are never going to get laid.”
    “Dante is just right for me.”
    “Don’t you mean just right next door? Didn’t look too far for Mr. Right, did you? You should be looking for Mr. Show Me The World not settling for Mr. Right Next Door.”
    Ouch. Just for that I will wait until the end of the night to tell her she missed a loop with her belt at the back of her pants. In retrospect she will think her night was ruined.
    She looked around the crowd and added, “I don’t see my friends from work.”
    “Work? Which work?” I asked. After Julia had been laid off from the phone company she found work at The Club Bare Minimum in the French Quarter as an exotic dancer. This was information my mother never needed to know.
    “I have other friends, you know, not just dancers from my current occupation. You should try the night club dancing scene. You might like it. We make great money in tips. Ask Suzanne.”
    “I should take my clothes off and dance naked in front of men for money?” I asked, with as much seriousness as I could muster.
    “It’s sounds bad when you say it like that. It’s a better workout than going to the gym, and I make a few hundred a night. Besides, it would be fun to see your mother go over the edge.”
    We pushed through the crowd that swelled in the street, overflowed onto the sidewalks and up the steps of Lee Circle. We found Suzanne holding a place for us.
    “I’m glad you made it” Suzanne said, smiling. “I was worried you were gonna miss the parade. It’s a big crowd tonight. Everybody and his dog is here. Dante told us you brought home another one.”
    The busybody hotline was working overtime. My business was on the street before me. Julia was right. I needed to get my own place.
    The Flambeaux carriers danced up the street while they twirled poles of fire. The tradition started when floats were drawn by mules or horses instead of trucks with generators. The carriers wrapped their heads and hands in rags to protect themselves from spewing kerosene as they danced and spun the poles. The crowd tossed them money for the entertainment. The real skill required the carrier to bend over in the street, pick up the quarters and not drop or spill kerosene into the crowd or onto the carrier in front of them. Even with all its possibility