Toulouse and Royal

Chapter One

"Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler"

Marie was, by most standards, a good girl: she attended church every Sunday and Wednesday, was polite and obedient, and always read a passage of the Bible before bed each night. Her early years were unfortunate; she was born in the sinful North -- with its liberalism and blasphemous ideas -- to an aspiring actress who lived only long enough after birthing to grace the name of Marie over the child's auburn crown. Despite all that, however, her aunt and uncle had raised her to be a good Southern girl. She studied hard and maintained her grades, ignoring the allures that often tempted those of her age. She spent her afternoons in her uncle's cafe, helping to bus tables and clean up before the evening shift came. Every Saturday she rode her bike down to the retirement facility to pass time listening to the stories her elders eagerly passed down. At merely thirteen, she was already one of the more respected members of her small community.

New Orleans, however, has a way of bringing out unknown facets of one's personality. Here was Marie -- shy, mature Marie -- seated comfortably at a booth in a smoky bar, her hair down to frame her small face in soft waves. She reached forward to tentatively grasp the glass before, staring dubiously at the amber-colored liquid that swirled at the bottom. "And this is what, exactly?" Sniffing it, her nose wrinkled at the strength of the liquor.

The man across from her, a lanky, roguish-looking man with a smile that reached all the way to his eyes, guffawed deep in his chest at her expression. "C'mon Darlin'. Would I lead you astray?" Adrian Saunier, as he had introduced himself to her earlier when he found her lost and stunned on the street corner, was a college professor and part-time street performer, playing the guitar in local jazz clubs when not perched on his spot at the intersection of Toulouse and Royal. The corner, as he had explained to her, had been his favorite place for the last 30-odd years, since he had been about her age. He had taken her to a nearby bar he knew the owner of, Yo Mama's over on St. Peter's, and ordered each of them a whiskey and the one-pound burgers Yo Mama's was famous for. "It's a little taste of the Big Easy."

Skeptical, but easily trusting the man who had taken her under his wing, Marie sipped the beverage. The second the liquid touched her tongue, she felt as though pure fire was racing down her throat. Coughing and spluttering, she glared and Logan through tear-streaked eyes. The man laughed, clapping her on the back. "There ya go, Darlin'. Welcome to the real N'Awlins." He raised his glass in a toast and Marie clinked hers to it while Logan cried happily, "Laissez les bon temps rouler!"

-x-x-x-

Four hours later found Marie and Logan, after a brief visit to the New Orleans Voodoo Museum, seated with five others around a poker table at Cosimo's Lounge. It had taken a few hands for Marie to master the finer complexities of the game, as well as her entire month's allowance, but she was now holding her own against the grown men. "Ha!" she crowed triumphantly, laying her cards down on the table -- three of a kind in fives. She glanced at the other players, her green eyes reflecting interesting shades in the cigar-smoked air.

"Damn," one player cursed, slamming his full house facedown on the tabletop. "Ya win again, Little Lady." He nudged the five dollars he had bet towards her, and the others followed suit, regardless of their hands.

Grinning, but rolling her eyes at the obvious display of goodwill, Marie collected her "winnings." She flicked a look at the clock on the wall as she shuffled the cards, noting that her curfew was in a half an hour. "Alright Gramps," her new friend grunted at the nickname. "We got time for one more game." She was just about to deal the hand when a new voice spoke out of the dingy air.

"This a private game or can any one join?" Marie, along with Logan and the other men, turned to face the newcomer -- and Marie's jaw dropped for the first time in her crazy day. He was New Orleans personified into the body of a seventeen-year-old man; reckless, mysterious, alluring, and downright gorgeous. He was tall and lanky, his long frame accentuated by an old oversized trench coat that hung easily on his body, and unkept brown hair that only seemed to suit his carefree personality. It was only when his glinting eyes the same color as whiskey met hers with a smile that Marie realized she was staring. "Remy Lebeau. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Marie closed her mouth and blushed, ducking her head behind a curtain of curls as she dealt an extra hand. Logan looked knowingly from Marie to the young man over his whiskey, then grinned and kicked a stool to the man. "Here ya go, Rems. Join us for a hand." Remy tossed his coat behind him like a cape as he sat, winking roguishly to Marie, who was to his immediate right.

"So, you new around here?"

Marie nodded and responded, pretending to be engrossed in her hand. "Marie D'Ancanto, pleased to meet you."

Remy leaned over to whisper against her ear, smiling as she shivered in response to his proximity. "Oh no, chere. The pleasure is all mine..."

-x-x-x-

Marie managed to make it back to the hotel only four minutes past her curfew of ten, and even managed to not smell like whiskey and cigars when she arrived. Her aunt berated her fiercely for disappearing in a strange city, but was unable to stay mad long. She brushed a lock of her niece's hair behind her ear, softening her tone. "Ah was worried sick."

Marie hugged her aunt fondly. "Ah'm sorry, Aunt Irene." While in her aunt's embrace, a mischievous smile unlike any that had ever previously crossed her angelic face slithered its way over her lips. She had experienced the real New Orleans, and it was in her bloodstream now. As she turned out the light to sleep that night, that same smile was still plastered across her features. New Orleans was surely a disease for which there was no cure.

Not that she really minded all that much.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Notes:

The chapter title is French for "Let the good times roll," and is the motto of New Orleans.

All of the places and locations mentioned are real

Reviewer Responses:

Sweety8587: Ah yes, being in love with a city... I'm glad you enjoyed, and I hope the new chapter lives up to your enjoyment as well!

Guarded Secrets: I'm glad you liked the teaser! There's much more coming!

Ishy: Yes, I know. It was much too short. I'm sorry I was so mean to you by not having it longer... can you forgive me? And I hope I satisfied the crack bunnies. They seem to haunt my nightmares.

They-Call-Me-Orange: So glad you liked it, and I agree. Romy is the best. For sure.

Enchantedlight: I'm glad this little story got off to a good start, and gladder still that you enjoyed it. Here's more!

Chica De Los Ojos Cafe: Glad you liked it!

Shira's Song: My apologies on the distance between you and your city. Glad you liked the story though!

EE's Skysong: So happy that you enjoyed! Here's more of the fic, and thanks for the favorite!