It feels like I’m on a movie set, each block an image of perfection and money that turns into a new wave of history. I come to a stop in front of giant cement structures that are equally eerie and beautiful and surrounded by a black wrought iron fence that I follow to where the doors are propped open. The fence winds its way up into an arch that reads: “Lafayette Cemetery No. 1.”
I’ve never seen an above-ground cemetery, and like everything else in this city, it screams of intrigue and history, forcing me to add another item to my to-do-later list so I can remain focused on my current sightseeing list.
I walk by row houses that lead me into a more industrial district, where the heat isn’t as charming, and when a driver slows down to yell something from their window, I wish I’d made Nessie or Cooper come with me.
It takes me a full hour to reach my first destination: Jackson Square. I’m so glad I read the suggestion to approach from Decatur Street to see the park with St. Louis Cathedral in the background and the statue of President Andrew Jackson at the forefront. It’s picturesque; something from a postcard that has me standing in place for several long minutes, taking in the view before I snap a picture and send it along with a quick text to Mom and Dad.
I spend the afternoon checking each item off my list until my phone rings, and Nessie’s face appears on the screen, her tongue out.
“Hey.”
“How’s sightseeing?” she asks.
“I’m moving here,” I tell her.
She laughs. “Me too. I’m pretty sure that bed is a cloud.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re still in it.”
She sighs happily. “Actually, Cooper and I went and tried bubble tea and walked around the Garden District.”
“Bubble tea?”
“Add it to your list. You’ll love it. Also, the Garden District is fab. It’s so beautiful.”
“The French District is pretty amazing as well. You won’t believe some of these pictures I’ve taken. Did you know the city was under French rule, then Spanish, and then French again before America purchased it?”
“Did you know the hotel makes a jambalaya with shrimp and has an outdoor pool with a full bar where they come to your beach chair and take your order?”
“So, you’re telling me you stood me up to hang out with your crush and then sunbathed like a celebrity?”
“Pretty much.”
“I’m eating the beignets I bought you as we speak.”
She laughs. “When are you on your way back? Tyler and Cooper made plans for tonight.”
“What kind of plans?”
“A masquerade club. I looked it up, and it says it’s super hard to get into, and we have VIP passes.”
“We aren’t going to do the bar and club scene every night, are we?”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that question. Where are you? How far away are you?”
“I’m back at Jackson Square. I basically made a giant circle today and came back to get more beignets and coffee at Café Du Monde.”
She repeats my location to Cooper.
“Tyler’s going to send a car to get you.”
“I can take an Uber or a Lyft or something,” I protest.
“Too late. He’s already calling someone.”
“How will I know which car it is?”
She repeats my question.
“He said it’s the same car that dropped us off last night.”
“Did you tell him I can’t remember what car dropped us off last night?”
“Nice. Black sedan.”
“I feel like it’s necessary to tell you I see six nice, black sedans right this very second.”
“Don’t get into the wrong one. You may not get to sleep on our cloud bed again.”
I chuckle. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I was kidding. Stay on the phone with me.”
I do, but it turns out to be unnecessary because the same driver from the night before finds me sitting on my park bench, fingers still sticky with powdered sugar, and calls me by name.
“I’ll see you in fifteen,” I tell Nessie and dust off my hands. I grab the paper bag filled with beignets and my purse, and follow him to the car.
“Thank you,” I tell him as he opens the door for me.
He nods. “Ms. Robinson.”
“You can call me Chloe.”
“You can call me Miles.” He smiles before closing my door.
“How was your afternoon?” he asks, and unlike this morning when Natasha asked me about last night, Miles makes eye contact with me in the rearview mirror, like he’s genuinely interested to hear my answer.
“It was amazing. This city is filled with so much history and beauty and food. I think I could spend two weeks here and still not see everything.”
He chuckles, navigating us carefully through traffic. “I’m glad you were able to come visit. Maybe on your next stay at the Banks Hotel you can stay longer.”
“Oh, I…” I stumble over my thoughts, trying not to sound rude or like the freeloader I kind of am. “My best friend is also best friends with Tyler. I don’t really know him. This is kind of a weird set of events that has us staying here, but we’re very grateful for the experience,” I tack on. “The hotel is amazing.” We drive past the same path of oak trees, the sky darkening to a deep shade of violet behind them.
“Thank you so much for coming to get me. I really appreciate it,” I tell him.
“It was my pleasure. You’re here for one more full day?”
I nod.
“If you want to see something kind of fun, there are quite a few haunted tours. I recommend heading back into the French District, but there’s one on the edge of town that starts at a mansion and will bring you to the cemetery you were admiring. I’ve heard it’s a lot of fun.” He pulls up to the hotel where someone immediately comes to open my door. The trek that took me over an hour earlier this afternoon takes us only fifteen minutes, all of it in air-conditioning.
“Thanks again, Miles.”
He grins. “Have a good night,
