“Is it rowdy?” she asks.
“It’s packed. People are going to be wasted and stupid. Just stick with us, and you’ll be fine.” I make a silent oath for this to be my first and only night of babysitting.
Cooper exchanges a questioning glance with me. Uncertainty is clear in his gaze.
“It’ll be fine,” I assure him.
“Mr. Banks.” A man at the valet desk raises his hand to catch my attention. “The car is ready, sir.”
“We’re driving?” Chloe asks, sounding disappointed.
I nod. “It would take us an hour to walk it.”
Before she can respond, Vanessa takes her hand, tugging her in the direction of the black Mercedes used to drive VIP guests around the city. The three of them squish into the back, and I sit in the passenger seat, next to our driver.
“Chloe, truth or dare?” Vanessa asks.
Chloe laughs. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” Vanessa doesn’t reply. “Dare.”
“I dare you to collect five strands of beads tonight.”
Cooper groans.
The girls laugh.
“Be careful. They’ll arrest you for indecent exposure,” our driver warns them.
“She knows I won’t flash anyone. She’s trying to make me fail,” Chloe explains.
“And you can’t buy them,” Vanessa tacks on.
“So many rules,” Chloe objects.
Vanessa laughs. “You love rules.”
The driver pulls over a few minutes later, and I tip him as the others climb out of the back seat.
Music flows through the air along with the chatter of voices. Buildings line both sides of the narrow street, decorated with neon lights.
Vanessa coughs. “It stinks,” she says.
I nod. “The only time this place doesn’t smell is in the morning after they’ve hosed it all down.”
Chloe’s nose crinkles, but only slightly, her curiosity stronger than the putrid scents of urine, alcohol, and sweat. Her gaze crosses the street and roves over the crowds before she looks back at us, her lips tipped with a smile. “It’s loud.”
I struggle not to laugh, knowing that Chloe Robinson is one of the most observant people and certainly took in far more than the most obvious fact she just shared.
“Let’s go.” Vanessa leads the way, her grip on Chloe tight, pulling her toward the traffic light that allows us to cross onto Bourbon Street.
And without thought, I’m traipsing after them, crossing the busy street as cars honk and men yell their awareness of the sisters.
“I’m going to hate this city, aren’t I?” Cooper grumbles.
Ahead of us, Chloe bestows a smile on an unsuspecting bloke who looks like he walked around with binoculars and a wide-brimmed hat all day. He’s startled by her, caught off guard by her quick approach and even more so by her beauty. She’s too far away for us to hear what she says, but we watch as he takes a strand of beads from around his neck and gives them to her.
She turns back toward Vanessa, victory shining in her bright eyes as she hurries back over to her.
“Yup,” I answer Cooper.
“Let’s get something to drink,” Vanessa says. “I read that there are bars down here that have specialty drinks. I want to try a hurricane.”
Chloe shakes her head. “I think I still feel a buzz from that drink at dinner.”
Vanessa laughs. “It was one drink.”
Chloe shrugs, her attention bouncing between the buildings and balconies and the busy street. “Although, a bar might be a good spot to get…”
I lean closer, missing the last of her words as we pass open doors where the music pours onto the street, competing with the music from other nearby bars and restaurants and the buzz of conversation
Vanessa turns to me, wearing a smile I recognize because while I haven’t seen it on her, it’s the same look a girl gets when she’s about to ask me for something. “Which bar should we go to?”
I shrug. “Depends on what you’re wanting.”
“Fun,” she says. “I want to have fun.” She glances at Chloe, and I understand her intention—she wants her sister to have a good time. I think of our brief conversation at dinner about Chloe being declined admittance to the program she’d applied for and their plans to get drunk, and though there’s a warning in my head saying this could go very badly, I jerk my chin forward.
“There’s a place up here with live jazz music and the best hurricane you’ll find on Bourbon Street.”
Her smile radiates with appreciation.
Then some fucker with too much liquid courage stops in front of Chloe, his gaze lewd and purposefully slow as he takes her in. His glassy stare settles on her face. “You’re so hot, my zipper’s falling for you.”
I wait for her to ask us for help or to make a retort to him—anything except for what she does—which is asking him for some of the beads around his neck.
I slap a hand to Cooper’s shoulder. “You’re going to have your hands full.”
He pulls his chin back. “What are you going to be doing?”
I grin. “The question is who will I be doing? And we’re going to find out soon.”
The bar is crowded when we step inside, and it takes approximately three seconds before news of twins starts circulating through the bar and another two for guys to start flocking their way toward them.
The band is loud, the bass pulsing through my body. The energy in here is enough to give anyone a strong hit of dopamine, leading me to gaze across the sea of people, waiting for the high to take me over and lead me to the nearest hot girl. But my thoughts are tangled with my meetings tomorrow as I consider what the management team is going to tell me and if I’ll be able to offer any suggestions or even ask the right questions to find the root of the issues.
The bombardment of thoughts ruins my mood and leads me to the bar, where I take a seat and nurse a drink. I try to plan for my first meeting and avoid the pull to watch the three of them having fun and dancing.
