“Got a ton of chicks knocked up.”
“That too, and you’re done dwelling on the fact that he’s no longer in your life. So you’re in like a shit ton of debt you’ll probably never get out of, but so what! You still have you. You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. Aren’t you glad you found out now—not when you’re like fifty and old as fuck?”
“Ummm, I’m not glad I found out at all.”
Trudy shrugs. “Well, same. I mean, this is all fucked up. But you can’t let him win. You need to get up and get back out there.”
I shake my head. “You’re kidding me if you think I’m ready to date again. Like, ever.”
Trudy slaps her hands onto her hips. “Who said anything about dating? I’m talking about just going out again and enjoying life! Fuck it, let’s take a trip. Anywhere. A place with lots of booze and no rules.”
“I don’t think I’d be the best company right now. Maybe ask Patti or Deb—ouch! Why did you just slap me?”
“You’re out of control! This whole not wanting to party thing you’ve going on—I don’t know this person. The Katie I know would never turn down an opportunity to hang with her besties and get drunk.”
She may be right. I’m not one to pass up a good time. But that was the old me. The new me is tame and gentle. Has a drink limit and a curfew. Tries not to swear and makes smart decisions. “God, you’re right. I am out of control. What have I turned into?”
“June fucking Cleaver. But it’s okay. You have me to change that. Just prepare to leave your parents’ couch, shower, and possibly put a toner on your hair—that shit is way too blonde—and let me handle the rest! Cool?”
She doesn’t give me a chance to reply before grabbing my hand, tugging me off the couch, and dragging me toward the kitchen.
“Now, let’s go eat. I smell your mom’s meatloaf. I’m starving.”
4
This is insane. Who just shows up to the airport and books the first flight available? “You know this is frowned upon by the government, right? We’re gonna get flagged and probably probed.”
“Dude, we’re fine. People do it all the time.”
“Show up at airports asking for a ticket to paradise?”
Trudy rolls her eyes, moving up in line. “No. They look at you with envy wishing they could just pick up and be as spontaneous. Trust me.” The last time I trusted Trudy, I found myself overserved in Mexico jumping off a ramp that wasn’t there and broke my ankle in three places.
When it’s our turn at the counter, Trudy instructs me to let her do the talking.
“Good morning, can I see a license and boarding pass?”
“Good morning,” she leans in to read the attendant’s nametag, “Marie L. My friend and I are on a mission. We don’t have a destination in mind, but my friend here, she’s in major need of freeing the demons placed inside her by the devil himself: her ex. And it’s my duty to take her away, cleanse her soul, and help her reclaim what she’s lost.”
I smack her. “Trudy!”
“See? She has hatred in her heart. She’s become violent and out of tune with her inner harmony. I need you to send us somewhere she can be rejuvenated. Body and mind. preferably body, ’cause sex cures all—ouch! Jesus, devil woman!”
“Stop talking about—”
“I know just the place,” Marie says. Her nails clank on the keyboard as she fires away on her computer. “Ah...yes. Here we are. Two seats. And they happen to be first class.”
“Oh, I can’t pay for first—”
Trudy throws her finger up. “Shut up. You know you’re not paying for shit on this trip. It’s my treat.”
“Trudy, you know I can’t let you do that.”
Marie hands us the tickets. “Don’t worry, ladies, there was no charge for first class. My treat.” She winks. “I appreciate your livelihood and think this is just the place for your cleansing and recreational needs.”
Trudy and I both lean over, examining the tickets. “New Orleans?” we reply in unison.
“Ahhh yes, music, cuisine, and vibrant nightlife—not to mention, spirits and voodoo magic. You’re looking to free those demons and cleanse your soul—that’s the place.” She prints out another set of boarding passes and hands them to us. Her attention turns to me, her eye contact striking, as if she can sense what I feel. “When you’re there, visit Erzulies Voodoo Lounge in the French Quarter. Head all the way to the back and ask for Tituba. She’ll fix you up.”
Tituba? What kind of name is that? Before I can ask, Trudy pulls us away and Marie is onto the next customer.
“That was kind of strange, don’t you think? Did you see the way she looked at me?”
“No. She seemed fine. And who are we to complain? She just hooked us up with free first class!”
While she drags me through security, a weird pull draws my attention back to Marie. Through the thick crowd of travelers, our eyes collide. There’s a strange shift in the air, and it’s as if I can read her thoughts. Embrace the journey ahead.
“Did you just hear that?” I ask, as if the woman is right in front of me.
“Hear what?”
“The lady. You didn’t just hear that? She said ‘embrace the journey ahead…’”
Trudy stares at me confused, then rolls her eyes. “Girl, you need a drink. The second we get through security, we’re starting. The next twenty-four hours are going to be something you’ll never forget.”
A buzzing sensation prickles at my nerves. I have a feeling there’s too much truth to her statement.
We’ve only been in New Orleans for an hour, and I’ve been in awe since we deboarded the plane. During the short cab ride from our hotel, our driver goes on and on about the city’s beauty and things we must experience while we’re here. Live music plays from all corners of the street as
