The Lunatics 2: Push Tumble & Fall

Tuesday 2:30 p.m.

"Wasn't all that sure what you wanted to drink, so I got you dem Moroccan coffee. Don't worry it ain't got no funny juice." Harlan sat cross-legged on the plush gold pillow. A petite woman about mom's age brought us a purple hookah water pipe.

"Black Cherry Chocolate," she announced. Her voice was phlegmy like she had smoked too much. She lit a long match. She placed the flame on the black charcoal disk, and the scent of the chocolate was the first to hit the air.

"I've never been here," I said sitting on the opposite side of Harlan. The pillow felt cool on my thighs. While other places in the Quarter offered promises of bars open around the clock with loud music, bottomless whiskey shots, pool tables and darts, the Basement Bazaar promised an ambiance of the night no matter the time of day. With all its shades drawn, candles everywhere and a single Hindi musician playing sitar swaying back and forth, the place felt like Arabian Nights 1909.

"Wasn't all that sure you'd dig da hookah," said Harlan.

"As long as it has no nicotine," I said.

"You always this squeaky?" asked Harlan.

"Squeaky clean? Only on the outside," I said, and he laughed. "It's not my choice."

"We always have a second choice." Harlan smiled, and his eyes squinted. Hookah was not the only thing he'd been taking, and it was obvious he was feeling no pain. A bag of Remedy sat by his drink.

"What's with the Remedy, it's like the norm for you," I said. "You should be dead by now."

Harlan took the first inhale from the hookah, held it for a few seconds, then titled his head back and exhaled the trail of fume from his lips. "It doesn't affect me like dem other folks. I dunno why—it just doesn't."

"Maybe you should be studied," I said.

"Reckon I should."

He passed the hose to me, and I didn't bother to change the mouthpiece. I held the plastic cone between my teeth before my lips enclosed it. I closed my eyes and took a deep inhale, and even though it wasn't cigarettes, it was close. I needed this. I held it hard in my lungs until I felt the rush in my head, and when I let the smoke out, I made an involuntary sound of pleasure that Harlan found amusing.

I took a couple more hits before passing the hose back to him and with each exhale the sitar music became louder. "You sure this has nothing in it?" I asked.

Harlan held up the menu. The sign read "Basement Bazaar" All Nicotine Free Products.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Back at the house, after I dropped you off, you were concerned."

"Everyone is fine," I said and looked right into his eyes. "I was just bored, so I came to see you."

"Really?" Harlan took another toke of the hookah. "Den why don't you look so fine."

"I'm fine."

"Yes, you are."

I must have made a face because he immediately explained.

"Don't worry, I will behave." Said Harlan.

A couple of girls next to us were making out. They both had long hair. Two bottles of wine sat on their table next to a red hookah water pipe.

"They seem to be having a time," I said.

"Everything that happens at the Bazaar doesn't happen," said Harlan.

"You mean like if it happens at the Bazaar . . . ?" I said.