than he should have, he banged his shin on the edge of the coffee table…hard. Gripping the injured limb with his hands, he swore savagely. All he needed on top of his headache was…
He froze, looking at his hands. The scales were back. Remembering what Jerome had said, he forced himself to calm down and breathe slowly. The scales faded from sight.
He would have to be careful of that and work at controlling his temper. All he needed was to involuntarily shape-shift in a public place.
Moving now with careful deliberation, he located a pair of sunglasses and put them on.
Once he was better equipped against the noonday sun, he left his apartment again. On his way out, he stopped by Valerie’s door and knocked. He knew she led more active a day life than he did. He thought it might be nice to share a little company. Besides, she could help him find just what there is to do in the Quarter before five p.m. Unfortunately there was no answer, and he was left to hit the streets alone.
From Griffen’s perspective, the French Quarter by day was a whole new world. By the time he normally got out and about, galleries and shops were closing, restaurants had already switched to dinner menus, and happy hour specials were nonexistent. Always before, when he had been out and about in the day, it had been with a specific purpose in mind. The shopping trip to improve his wardrobe, for example. Now he was just wandering, adrift and curious.
Bourbon Street showed some of the most dramatic changes. Oh, there were still tourists wandering in search of beads and booze. They were fewer, though, and seemed just a bit out of place. As if everyone else had gotten the menu of when the party started, and they missed the note.
What surprised him were the trucks. Bourbon was foot traffic only at night, so it was during the day that deliveries got made. Trucks delivering beer and soda, food and supplies, or just UPS delivering the occasional package were parked up and down the street. Strong men with pushcarts loaded with kegs and boxes moved in a steady stream, preparing the businesses for the night to come.
After a few glances into various bars and hot spots, Griffen decided against visiting the Irish pub. He didn’t really want to see it empty. Or worse, occupied with that certain kind of drunk who really had no place to go. Those desperate, lonely souls were depressing drinking company at best, and though they were around at night, they seemed to disappear into the throng. In the light of day they seemed more apparent. Though he didn’t really expect them in the Irish pub, he decided against taking the chance.
He wandered toward a little bar half a block off Bourbon. At night, it was a homey kind of place, full of service-industry workers, locals, and low-key tourists with more sense than most. He was curious, as close as it was to Bourbon, just what it would be like during the day. Especially since they didn’t serve food, so wouldn’t be attracting much of the lunchtime crowd.
It was empty. The music from the jukebox was turned down low, the twin TVs were muted, and not a soul sat at the bar. The daytime bartender sat engrossed in a novel. She carefully turned the page, put in a marker, and set it down before looking up. When she finally saw Griffen, her face split into an impish grin. He was so surprised he hadn’t yet managed a second step into the bar.
“So, what will it be, Big Brother?”
“Valerie?!”
“No, I’m her evil twin, hidden from you for all these years. You’re letting all my air-conditioning out. Come in and shut the door.”
Valerie stood and started to pour Griffen’s usual. He closed the door, and dazedly took a seat at the bar. As she put the drink in front of him she looked him over critically, smile fading slightly.
“Wow, I didn’t expect you to be near this shell-shocked. I’m going to be charitable and attribute it to a hangover,” she said.
“Well…that is part of it. Just surprised; why didn’t you tell me you got a job?”
Just what she needed, Griffen thought. A regular schedule. All the easier for an assassin to find her.
“Mmm, maybe because I just got it yesterday, and you didn’t get in till seven this morning. I thought sleep just might be a good thing before I joined the workforce.”
“Congratulations, Sis. I didn’t even know you were looking for work.”
“I noticed. That will be four-fifty for the drink by the way. And you better tip. I know where you live.”
Griffen couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled out his wallet. He watched as she made change, and had to admit to himself that she could probably make a killing at the job. Personality, wit, and tight jeans would pretty much guarantee her popularity, with local and tourist alike. Still, something bothered him slightly about the whole thing. She pretended not to watch him as he laid a few bills out of his change for tip.
He also quelled his fears, helped with a few sips of his Irish. The George seemed good enough to find her regular schedule or no. Not a comforting thought, though a little amusing. His personal stalker and possible murderer was professional enough he didn’t have to worry more. Griffen felt like toasting the irony.
“So, how’s the job so far?”
“Are you kidding? Daytime shift may be the most boring thing I’ve every experienced. I’ve sat through English lit classes more thrilling.”
“How long till they get you on nighttime then?”
“Well, I’m swing shift relief now. So I’ll play bar back till I learn the ropes. Figure a couple of weeks to a month.”
“Don’t you need some type of licensing or paperwork in this town for a bartender’s job?”
“Well, uh…let’s just say you aren’t the only one who can enjoy this dragon game sometimes. The paperwork has been ‘taken care of’ for me.”
Brother and sister shared a laugh and Griffen sipped his drink. The alcohol really did help him shrug off the lingering effects from the night before. As he rolled it around on his tongue, he looked over Valerie again, more speculatively. She quirked an eyebrow at him.
“What?” she said.
“No, I think the question was why.”
“Why what?” Her tone was just a bit hard-edged, just a touch dangerous.
“Why this, why the job? It seems just a bit…odd.”
“Yeah, well, so does most of our lives for the past several weeks.”
Valerie started pacing behind the bar, fidgeting with the bar rag and searching for words. She stopped and looked over Griffen, just as he had her. She shrugged her shoulders and leaned against the bar, seemingly at ease. The tension in her shoulders and back was obvious, though.
“Mainly, I was bored.”
“More bored than this?” Griffen waved at the empty bar.
“Well, a different kind of bored I guess. I mean really, Griffen. I dropped out of school; I hopped down to New Orleans. There is only so much lounging around a girl can do.”
“Well, how about going back to school? Transferring credits into LSU or Tulane?”
“Oh, please. I had given up on my degree a while ago; it didn’t interest me in the least anymore. I just didn’t know what else to do with myself, so was going through the motions. Then you needed help, and I had something to do with myself.
“Ah…I left you in the lurch didn’t I?”
“And Big Brother snags the gold ring.”
Griffen nodded and started to frown. He hadn’t really considered that. That Valerie had come to New Orleans because of him and then he had gotten distracted. Hadn’t even known she was looking for work, how out of touch could he be? Valerie watched his expression, reached over, and clouted him on the ear hard enough he almost fell out of his chair.
“Stop that!”
“The hell, Valerie!” He grabbed the side of his head protectively and rubbed it.
“You needed that. No sulking gloom for you.”
“But—”
“Don’t ‘but’ me, Big Brother. Even if mine did get me this job.”
“Sis!”
“Oh, you are so easy to tease. Look, you left me in the lurch, yes, but I left myself in it more. I was back to not doing anything with myself. That’s what this job is about. It works or it doesn’t, that doesn’t really matter.
