Happy
Mardi Gras, y’all! I’ll be honest – I’m
having to work at my Mardi Gras mood this morning, looking out at the cold, grey
Texas rain with a cup of coffee and a chunk of grocery store king cake. A girl’s gotta summon a little imagination on
a day like this. And what better way
than to dive into my book, The Getaway Girls: A New Orleans Tale of Monsters,Mayhem and Moms? Sure, Tolstoy it ain’t –
but if you’re up for a quick, wild ride through New Orleans with some kickass
ladies, a cocky Irish actor, a crew of petulant vampires – and of course,
flesh-eating scavengers – then this book’s for you! It’s a little bloody, a little bawdy – but it’s
fun. Really. Check out my video if you don't believe me: The Getaway Girls New Orleans Rap.
So to
keep up a NOLA spirit, I’m thinking about one of my favorite places in the Big
Easy – the Hotel Monteleone. As Syd says, “nothing bad could ever happen to you
in the Monteleone.” Or could it? Read on . . .
___________
Evie had been tapping
furiously at her phone when she noticed a tattooed man standing too close and staring
at her through a heavy curtain of black hair.
He towered over her by at
least a foot and his greasy hair fell past his shoulders. Skin-tight jeans that needed washing clung to
his thick legs and he wore a battered leather jacket over a mud-colored t-shirt. Although Evie couldn’t make out his face, she
caught a glimpse of tribal tattoo designs wrapping around his neck, his hands,
and presumably the rest of his flesh.
“Can I help you?” Evie
asked in a snotty voice.
“No,” he answered in a
deep, scratchy grumble, “But I can
help you.”
Evie raised her eyebrow.
“I know Carl’s after your
friend. And I saw who’s in the bar with you. Declan. That stupid movie star’s telling you crap about how he’s
gonna save you, I bet.” He leaned closer
and whispered, “He’s lying. You should
call the cops.”
Evie peered at his face,
but still she couldn’t see a thing but the hair. “I’m trying to, but my phone
won’t work in this damn lobby.”
The man pointed to a
hallway, “You can get service over there.
Come on, I’ll show you.”
Evie hesitated. “Why
don’t you just tell me, and I’ll get
my friends.”
He shook his head, muttering,
“You can’t let Declan know you’re gonna call the cops, he’ll try to stop
you. Come with me now.” He grabbed Evie’s elbow.
She jerked it back out of
his grasp. “No offense, but I know you even less than Declan, and he at least
has manners. Thanks, but no
thanks.” She tried to walk past him but
suddenly he was pushing her down the hall.
“You gotta come with
me. Call the cops before Declan sees
you’re gone.” He shoved her around a
corner and disappeared into a doorway.
She peered into the room,
a small windowless enclosure fronted by a wooden counter guarding suitcases and
empty wheeled luggage carts. The creamy
white paint peeled just a little and the carpet was green and musty; it was not
a room meant to attract attention. A
slight vibration stirred the hot air but the man was nowhere in sight.
“Hello?” She called out, and stepped one foot
inside the space. She held up her phone and with trembling fingers, pressed the
9 and then 1.
Suddenly, thick arms
jerked her off her feet, quickly hustling her behind a stack of bags where her
struggling body was hidden from sight. A
hot, hairy hand covered her mouth, and bristly whiskers brushed her cheek as the
man whispered, “Shut up!”
Scared, she did as she
was told. The stench of English Leather
and stale cigarettes filled her nostrils and then she smelled something
fruity. A Styrofoam cup sloshing with
icy red liquid was at her mouth. “Drink
it!” The man ordered, lifting his hand off her lips to yank open her jaw and
pour the sickly sweet hurricane down her throat.
“Good girl,” he snarled,
as she gagged. “Drink it all down.” She gulped as much as she could, until the
cup was empty. The man tossed it to the
ground and leaned over her, his jacket shadowing her eyes. She could feel his
stubble pressed against her neck as he laughed.
“That should keep you quiet till the others come for you.”
“My friends?” Evie asked, panicked.
He laughed again, coldly.
“Not your friends. Someone’s looking for
you, and they asked me to babysit. I
slipped something nice and strong in that drink, honey. You won’t even know
your name by the time they get here.”
Then he shifted so she
could see his face. A thick silver ring
pierced his septum and the tattoo Evie had spotted on his neck curved around
his cheeks and chin, framing his face in permanent black ink. He brushed hair back from his forehead and Evie
gasped. His eyes were bright,
traffic-signal yellow. The pupils on the colored lenses were narrow feline
slits. He stared her without blinking, looking less like a man and more like a
shaggy black panther.
“You’re cute,” he
said. “Too bad for you.” Then he cold-cocked her in the chin and all
the lights went out.
__________
Want to read more? Click here to read the entire first chapter or buy the book. It's only $4.99, folks - cheaper than a bowl of gumbo!
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