“—but there’s someone I want you to meet and I’m not sure if we’ll miss her or not.”
I raised my brow. “A…a her? You’ve had contact with the female species? I don’t believe it.”
He pointed at Perry. “I’ve had intimate contact with this one.”
“You son of a bitch,” I snarled, ready to jump him.
“Guys!” Perry yelled, putting her arm out in front of me. “Dex, calm down. You, ginger balls, you shut the f**k up.”
I laughed. “Ginger balls, that’s my girl!”
He smiled venomously at her. “The very balls you—”
Before I had a chance to knock his face in, Perry was there first, kicking him right in the shin with her Doc Martens. Her violence surprised even me, and I stood there, shocked and impressed. And maybe a bit scared.
Maximus was shocked too, groaning and rubbing his leg. “Have you gone f**king crazy, Perry?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Maybe I have. If you say another f**king thing about what happened between me and you, I’m going to show you what else I can do to your balls, you hear me?”
“Jesus,” he swore, straightening up, “all right, all right. You’re not much of a little lady after all, are you?”
“I never was. Now tell us where the hell you want us to go and who the hell you want us to meet and why.”
Maximus looked at me and I shrugged. I was going to let Perry do her thing. This inner bitch of hers was giving me a hard-on.
“All right,” he said, wincing a bit as he shook out his leg. “There’s a girl I used to know, our contact. I want to see if she still works at the bar, the one I used to work at. It’s just here in the Quarter on Royal Street.”
“So let me get this straight,” she said slowly, “this girl is our contact and you don’t even know if she still works at the same place. Haven’t you been in contact with her?”
“Not since I left.”
I frowned at him. “Maximus, you do know what the term ‘contact’ means, don’t you? It generally means you’ve been in contact with the person.”
“Yeah, well I reckoned there wasn’t time. Besides, we don’t need her, we can investigate the haunted house on our own. I just thought we should get her involved.”
“Why?” Perry asked, leaning back on one leg, full of attitude.
He slowly tilted his head back and forth, considering the question. Finally he said, “Because she’s a lot like you guys.”
“What do you mean like us?” I asked warily.
“She sees ghosts, too. She’s…pretty special.”
“And what’s her name?” Perry asked. “This special ghost girl?”
“Rose,” he said, almost sadly. “Her name is Rose.”
And with that, he turned and left the room, heading down the staircase. I had a feeling that Rose was more than just a contact to him. How much more, well I guess that was something we were about to find out.
I nodded at Perry. “Grab your purse. At least we’re going to a bar.”
I think we were all going to need a drink at this point.
CHAPTER SEVEN
We got to the bar by walking down Bourbon Street for a bit, just to get a feel for the place. Perry and I stopped at one of the bars that were open to the street and ordered two sickly sweet Hand Grenades to go, sucking back on that antifreeze while we navigated the early crowds and puking frat boys who’d probably been drunk all day. And how could you not be? I mean booze to-go? Public drinking was encouraged? Suddenly every bad vice I had was begging to come back.
Rose’s bar on Royal Street was further away from the touristy crowds, a large place filled with live jazz, crazy cheap drink specials, and locals having a good time. I was in heaven, especially with the hot woman at my side.
“Do you see her?” I asked Maximus as we stood in the doorway, surveying the room. Most people were sitting near the jazz band, though a few of them were playing pool, and a handful were sitting at one of the two bars.
He shook his head.
“What’s the name of this place?” Perry asked.
“It’s nameless,” he said absently, walking toward the jazz set-up, searching the seats in front of it. A lanky woman with giant br**sts and an afro to match was singing sweet sadness, while two old hep cats played easy drums and mellow bass.
“Ugh, this makes me want to play,” I mumbled to myself, feeling the energy of the music seeping through my bones, revving my engines.
“The bar has no name?” Perry went on, still stuck on it.
I nodded to a coaster on the closest table. “Nameless is the name.”
“What happened to your hand grenade?” she asked, noting my empty hands.
“I drank it.” I turned to her. “Do you think they’d mind if I went up there and sang?”
She frowned at me. “Don’t you dare.”
“Hey, I know you find my voice sexy.”
“Dex, you’re one of the best singers I know and I’d love more than anything if you were to sing for me. But please don’t go tossing that woman out of the way. Let’s not get ourselves kicked out when we just got here.” She appraised me more closely. “You’re in a real shit disturber mood today.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Maybe the drummer would let me take over. He’s got to be what, ninety-years-old? If he keeps playing, he could die.”
“Dex,” she warned. “Come on, let’s get you another drink while he looks for her.”
“Yes, a drink oughta have me thinking clearly.”
We went to the closest bar and took a seat. There was no bartender, so I leaned over to the man next to me, an old grizzled thing with a beard that reached the table and said, “So if there’s no bartender, do we just help ourselves?” I reached over the bar in jest when suddenly I was face to face with a woman.
“You touch any of my booze and I’m putting this shotgun under your chin,” she said, her voice sounding as sweet as she looked, contrasting with her threat. She was around my age, maybe a bit younger, late twenties, and slender with a wide, tanned forehead, grey-blue eyes and curly, white-blonde hair that frizzed a bit at the ends. Pretty thing.
I grinned at her and raised my hands. “I don’t see a shotgun.”