Another installment. Slightly longer. After an hour+ of surfing the web for the perfect styled club in New Orleans... I wound up with nothing. So, the first generalization of my story. Then next being their addresses, since one is never really mentioned (far as I've learned) for Remy... and I don't want to shop real estate for Rogue.
Thank you to Randirogue for some awesome insight to the Big Easy thanks to her recent trip. This one's for you. :)
Bourbon Street. The heart of New Orleans for locals and tourists alike. Tonight, it was lit up like a Christmas tree. I think everyone here has to come to this part of the Quarter. Bars and nightclubs beckon you at every block, restaurants letting the smells of authentic foods waft out the windows and onto the street. Visitors crave the historics and the nightlife, while the locals come to give those passing by a taste of real Cajun life. They find their hole in the wall and stay there, luring the lucky few to sample a piece of home. Those few leave with wilder and grander stories than the masses. It was my time to turn into a local. Five easy hours here was nothing compared to the permanent vacationers, true. But this place was going to be my home, and I needed to start learning the ins and outs of it all. How better to do that than to wander aimlessly, threading through dimly (if at all) lit alleys looking for secret doors. Doors to places in need of a password, clues hidden in plain sight. I have to admit, I cheated with the first such door I came upon. Or at least tried to.
I tapped on the metal cleverly painted to match the timeworn brick of the rest of the building. The only lights in the narrow space were provided by the bustling crowd and glowing neon of Bourbon. It was obviously a secret little entrance to a back room, hidden from the rest of the wandering drunks. The soft jazz floating through the air only got louder when the door opened as far as the chain lock would allow. The face of a blocky man, obviously serving as a bouncer, filled the three-inch space. His eyes darted around me, no doubt making sure I was alone, then settled on my face.
"Members only," he said softly in a grainy voice.
I applied pressure to a small button, no bigger than the tip of a pencil, on the inside panel of my bracelet. My eyes closed and I dug deep into the back of my mind, using what extra power I'd once gotten from Jean. Mentally, I picked through his brain, finding the right words to say to gain entrance. I deflated internally when I could find nothing. Either there was no right answer, or he knew mutants. So I switched gears and willed him to let me in, just for a bit.
He raised an eyebrow and shut the door. Damn. I was just turning when the door swung open wide enough to allow me passage. His hand encircling my upper arm stopped me as I crossed the threshold.
"One hour, little lady. And you better have something to bet. Next time, just ask nicely instead of fishing around." Busted. At least he seemed a good sport about it. He slipped a piece of paper into the back pocket of my jeans and let me in.
For a "members only" affair, there seemed to be quite a few bodies. Decorations were modest, yet elegant, a lot of drapes and scarves in various colors. There were several card tables set up with varying amounts of players at each one. Above each table was a lamp, each with a bulb supplying only enough light to read your cards. The rest of the lighting came from the small stage set up just to the right of the entrance, gently glowing in purples, reds, and blues. A tall, dark-skinned woman sang softly in French while the band behind her played the melodious jazz tunes.
The jade green of my off-the-shoulder sweater mixed with the lights to make quite an ugly hue, while my jeans and cowboy-styled boots screamed way too casual for most of the clientele. With the amount of smoke in the air, I was glad I'd pulled my thick hair back into a ponytail, leaving only a few white strands to dangle in my face.
I went to the bar in the corner opposite the stage and traded a hundred in for a few little chips. It wasn't much to gamble with, but I hated gambling and hadn't intended to play any cards. Considering the lack of seating anywhere but a table, I didn't have much of a choice. I took my few chips and slid into a chair in a far corner, only two other players sat at the table. One gentleman was running low on funds and the other… well, I assumed he took them.
The winning player was sitting on the back two legs of his chair, a fedora sitting low over his face. His shirt was a satin material and a rich royal blue, the long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He leaned forward, placing all four legs of the chair on the floor, as I sat down and settled in.
"Shall I… deal you in, chere?" he asked in a deep voice, a thick Cajun accent rolling over the words.
"If you don't mind," I said softly.
"Mmmm," he hummed, tilting his ear toward me. "Such a pretty little accent you got there." He tossed me a card, flicking his wrist expertly. He paused in handing our partner his next hand. "Jules?" he said, a sympathetic tone to his voice. "Jules… you in on this one?"
The middle-aged man raised his face in response, his dark eyes red and watery, his glass empty of its scotch. "If you t'ink I'm gonna let you sit here an' cheat me outta my money any longer, you a fool, LeBeau. Shoulda known better'n ta play wit you." Jules turned his tired face to mine. "You watch out, femme. 'Dis guy take you fo' all you got. He got an ace up each sleeve." With that, he rose clumsily from his chair, knocking it over in the process and stumbled to the door. He argued a brief moment with Mr. Blocky the Bouncer, and then tripped over himself into the alley.
"Guess that means he's out," the man in front of me mumbled as he quickly finished dealing. "Since I've never seen you in here, an' you don' look the type ta play much, I'll go easy. Simple five card hand, chere." He looked up at me from underneath the brim of his hat. I saw his eyes glow in the shadow of it. They blazed a bright, intense red. His lips cracked in a half smile I'd seen before.
I lifted my hand and calculated what I had. Nothing. "Three cards," I said, flinging them across the table at him.
"Why, yes ma'am," he purred, sliding my request so far his fingers brushed my knuckles. He pulled away at the small shock.
In that instant I realized two things: I hadn't reactivated my bracelet from digging around in the bouncer, and I was going to lose this hand. I now knew he had a simple diamond flush, which easily beat my flimsy pair.
"Shit," I cursed softly, folding my hand and resigning to the fact that I'd lost twenty-five dollars.
He chuckled. "Round one's over."
I let him deal me in again.
In a glance, I knew I could work with this. "Two," I politely demanded. He slid the cards to me in the same manner. The same shock passed.
"Damn, girl. You been draggin' your feet today?" He shook the tingling feeling from his hand.
Now I knew there was a card hidden on the underside of the table, directly below the deck. As his fingers slid over the top of the deck to draw his card, his thumb would remove the one underneath.
"If you use that Queen under the edge, Ah'll take all your money," I said casually as I arranged my cards. I had a full house with two aces and three tens.
He looked up at me in disbelief. Leaning forward, he whispered to me. "How you figure that, chere?"
"We'll call it confidence. What's your bet, mutie?" I met his eyes, raising an eyebrow at him.
He stilled for a moment, then looked me over. "One hundred an' that pretty trinket o'yours." Once again, he leaned back casually and tipped the chair.
"Ah'll see that," I said, taking one of his many twenty-five dollar chips and placing it with my own, as well as my bracelet, in the center of the table. "And Ah'll raise you… your services."
"What services?"
"You're gonna help me rearrange mah house."
He chuckled again. He laid down his cards. A small flush straight. With the Queen, he would have had a straight flush. But, alas, that ten of clubs I made him draw killed it.
"Mah full house beats your almost-flush any day." I smiled as I replaced my golden bracelet, making sure to brush that little button to reactivate it's very handy technology. "You know, for a card sharp, you really don't hide the best of cards."
"I save the best for last, ma petite." He smiled, lifting his hat with two aces taped to the back. "When shall I arrive?"
"Say… about eleven." I wrote my address on a napkin and handed it to him as I stood. "Much appreciated, charmer."
