Outside the Window

Part 7

           Mandy hired a real estate agent, and he'd shown Mandy pretty much every house under four-hundred thousand dollars. "Well, Mr. King, thanks. I'll call when I've picked a house." Mandy gave Reginald King, the agent, a brief smile and turned away. She hailed a taxi, then got out at the Ritz. It was week four in her stay, and she'd gotten sick of macaroons and uncooked sausage. She'd finally decided on a house. It was a two-story, Victorian-style house. It had white everything on the outside, and a light gray roof. It wasn't new, and it smelled like it, too. It had a white marble pathway leading to the house, with a white lantana bush in the middle of the walkway. It had gray double-doors, and cyan stairs leading up to the porch, which held two bonsai trees. It looked nice, so she bought it. It was pretty big, though. She'd wanted a small house, but this was nice. She knew her pets would love it there, especially Ginger. Ginger would love the big front and backyard, and love the big new house. Smoky would be interested, but not as excited as Ginger.  She loved this house from the first time she saw it. She knew this on had a good chance on winning her over, but she checked the other houses to be sure. She picked up her phone. She held it in her hand, in the middle from the hotel bed and her face. Then she put it to her ear.

Ring ring. Ring ring. "Hello? You've picked a house? That one? The old one? OK, I'll call the owner. Bye." Mr. King hung up, and Mandy  lowered the phone from her face. She had to wait to buy the house, because Reginald had to get the owners, organize a meeting, and settle the purchase. In the meantime, she had no idea what to do. She'd been to every museum, tourist trap, restaurant, point of interest, and historical site there. Then, she decided she needed some personal time. She needed to think. She put her phone on the charger, and walked out the door. She walked around for some time, then came across a man. He had taut and tan skin, and was wearing a black vest over a shiny purple long-sleeve shirt, and pants matching the vest. He had a golden monocle on his left eye, and an Abraham-Lincoln-style hat on, and appeared to be handing out pamphlets that no one would take. She had nothing better to do, so she walked over to the man.

          "Hello, sir. What're you handin' out?" Mandy asked the strange street man. "Oh, just papers for da fiddlas'." the man said. He had a heavy N.O. accent, and used the most incorrect grammar Mandy ever saw. "The fiddlers?" Mandy asked, not knowing who they were. He muttered something in Cajun-French, then said "Dey only da best band on da Earth!" He used his hands to express 'best' by putting his hands together then moving them apart in opposite directions. When her face showed no sign of recognition, he rolled his eyes. "Dey be performing on Bourbon t'night. Take a flyer." He handed Mandy one, and walked off. It wasn't expensive at all, and she needed some fun. She decided to go.

TO BE CONTINUED... OR NAH!