This is the first story I've ever uploaded for public reading. Please leave comments---do you like it? Do you not like it? Ideas you may have, theories, et cetera. THANKS!
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Chapter 1
Mardi Gras-Alexander Kovaleski told himself-was absolutely no time to be arriving in New Orleans. Of course, he hadn't really known that it was Mardi Gras, after all, he didn't keep an internal calendar and remembering the celebratory day that lasted a week hadn't been on the top of his priority list. That, he supposed, was what he got for being a Russian Yankee who never traveled during his college spring breaks. Still, he was amazed that he eventually found a parking spot on the crowded streets and was determined to find the building on Bourbon Street that was supposed to be his home. Of course, he had to find Bourbon Street first. All he knew was that he was somewhere on Orleans Street and St. Anne Street.
He got out and locked the car, let his dark brown eyes scan the street with an ability akin to any cop. The heavy, hot breeze ruffled his chestnut brown hair. He wouldn't think about any chance that the brand new Camaro wouldn't be there when he got back, and headed in the direction he believed the music was coming from. He was elated when he finally found a street sign that did, in fact, tell him he'd found Bourbon Street. The street was packed, lined by buildings and full of people who wandered in and out of bars and clubs, beads dangled from women's necks, drunk men tossed beads at any woman who had the guts-or maybe it was one who was drunk enough-to flash their tits for them. Alex could only shake his head and wade his way through the thick crowd. For only being half past three in the afternoon, it was seemingly party central.
He was looking for a place called Juliette's. He wasn't sure what kind of place it was-a bar, a restaurant, a bordello, all he knew was that he was supposed to find his new land lord there, and sign the final papers on his lease. Suddenly parched, he stopped in front of a building that was painted a deep sage green, was three stories, and had a wale of bluesy jazz floating out of the open double doors. He looked up, saw the sign, and shook his head. 'I'll be damned,' he thought and walked inside Juliette's.
The air was heavy, laced with the smell of smoke and liquor with a hint of Cajun cooking that reminded him he was not only thirsty, but hungry as well. The place was packed, any table that sat on the scarred wood floor was full, and nearly every inch of the bar was occupied. A fishbowl of multi colored beads sat on each end, a tall lanky man worked like a flash, pulling taps, setting up shots, and pouring drinks for patrons all while taking bills and making change. Alex watched a woman-a slim and built black haired beauty-saunter past him, flick her eyes over him, and serve him a slow sultry smile that managed to practically stop time. She leaned against a table, accepted a bead necklace from one of the men, and seemed to flirt easily enough as she wagged her finger at one of them who had said something to make her laugh, and gathered beer bottles, all while serving him another long look that had his blood roaring in his head.
He made his way to the bar, leaned against it between a blond in a red tank top and a half drunk young man a little on the pudgy side. And he waited. The waiting allowed him to take in the sights, the way the barman moved flawlessly, how he talked to the patrons, and the way he dragged beads from around his neck and stuffed them into the fish bowl was certainly amusing. A clanking and shattering of glass, followed by shouts had him looking back over his shoulder. The beauty stood toe to toe with a man who looked like he not only had a good foot in height over her, but an added eighty pounds, the bottles she had been carrying were now broken at her feet. She shoved the man back, reached back for a glass of ice water that seemed to appear from nowhere right next to him, and tapped her foot as if she were waiting for some sort of explanation or confrontation. Alex watched her tap a finger to the side of the glass as she angled her head like she was interested in what the man had to say. When a beefy hand snaked out to grab her tight butt, Alex had nearly decided to step forward. The ice water was up ended over the man's head, and almost as swiftly, his arm was wrenched back. The cop in him could appreciate the quick reflexes of another large man in a black t-shirt with the word 'SECURITY' written in white across the front and back. It was almost comical really-the way she ran her mouth so that the big man ended up hanging his head in shame and accepting the broom that another waitress had carried out to him. Alex shook his head and turned back to the bar, obviously not needed.
