Big Easy Escapade Read online

  Joan Rylen

  Also by Joan Rylen

  Named one of “20 recent releases, worthy of attention…”

  — Maggie Galehouse, Houston Chronicle

  “The book is SASSY and FUN. All women can identify with the escapades of the characters. Couldn’t put it down!”

  — Rebecca Lopez, senior reporter, WFAA-TV (Dallas)

  BIG EASY ESCAPADE

  By Joan Rylen

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2013 Rita Rox, Inc.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, dialogue, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imaginations or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights.

  Lyrics of Josh Weathers used with permission.

  ISBN 13: 9780985673642

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013948757

  To Mom, if I can be even half the mother you are, my daughter will turn out amazing. Thank you for being a great Mom, teacher and friend.

  Love, Robbyn

  To Gran, Your sassy Southern ways have guided me well and filled my heart with love. Thank you.

  Love, Johnell

  P.S. You’re not allowed to read this book.

  Prologue

  Detective Leffall pointed a latex-clad finger toward the built-in dressing table. “Be sure to get the vase, flowers and the card.” White lilies, lavender roses and pink calla lilies lay strewn across the table and floor. A water-logged card read, “As always, I’ll be watching. Love, H.”

  Heat radiated from the bulbs outlining the mirror, spotlighting a disarray of cosmetics, body paint, glitter and hair products, several of which had fallen to the floor. Leffall pushed aside a few of the costumes that hung from a rack on the wall, then knelt and inspected those on the floor. Using his pen, he lifted a feathered bustier, revealing a broken hanger and a hot-pink, fake fingernail tip.

  “Record all the clothes and rack, and especially this hanger and what looks like her fingernail.” He let the bustier fall back into place, next to a jungle outfit. He stood and glanced around the room while the crime scene videographer recorded the mess. His eyes stopped on the strappy, metallic, five-inch heel in the doorway.

  “Looks like our girl pulled a Cinderella. You see the other one anywhere, Bud?”

  Bud turned the camera to the lone shoe, then scanned across the floor. “Negative.”

  Leffall paused in the doorway, looking into the dressing room. “This one feels different.”

  Bud kept filming. “They all feel different.”

  “Dammit,” Leffall said and sighed as he continued looking around the room. “When you’re done here, meet me by the back door.” He walked toward the rear exit and knelt to get a better look at an abandoned phone, the green message indicator light flashing, waiting for its owner. Bud’s Nikes squeaked coming down the hall.

  “The screen is cracked. Get a close-up of that.”

  Bud zoomed the camera to the hot-pink phone, then down the hallway in both directions.

  Leffall shouldered open the back door. The stench from the dumpster across the alley reminded him of another crime scene that hadn’t turned out so well. He walked down three steps and over to a uniform. “Dumpster’s been checked, right?”

  The young officer nodded. “Yes, sir. We did an initial search, didn’t see her.”

  “I want someone to go through it again. I’m missing a stripper shoe. The match is in the doorway of the dressing room.”

  Leffall clicked his pen as he walked back toward the club. A Plexiglas dome covered a security camera, angled down at the entrance.

  To no one in particular, he said, “Hope that thing works.”

  Chapter 1

  Vivian stepped off the escalator, into baggage claim, just as the buzzer sounded on carousel two. The belt jerked to life and bags pushed through the plastic dividers. Her UT burnt-orange, grandiose suitcase was in the middle of the pack. She went to check the monitors for Wendy, Kate and Lucy’s flights, but before she could pinpoint the Denver arrival, she heard, “Hey, sexy momma!”She turned toward Lucy’s cheery voice but didn’t see the familiar face she’d known since sixth grade. Lucy’s normally auburn, curly hair was now almost black, and straight. Dark eyeliner around her sparking green eyes was a new touch, too.

  Lucy met her at the monitor and wrapped Vivian in a big hug. “You look great!”

  “So do you,” Vivian replied, “and I like your hair, but it’s just so different. When did you do it?”

  Lucy tugged on a strand and shrugged. “Yesterday. I don’t know why. I guess I needed a change. Do you hate it? Be honest.”

  Vivian touched it. “No, I’ve just never seen you with straight hair. It’s a good change.”

  “Where are the other girls?” Lucy asked, referring to their childhood friends, Wendy Schreiber and Kate Jameson.

  Vivian had known Wendy since kindergarten and Kate since ninth grade. They’d all grown up in a working-class suburb southeast of Houston, Pasa-“Get-Down”-dena. Nobody knows where the “Get-Down” came from, though they joke it’s either to shield yourself from the high winds of a hurricane or the occasional refinery explosion, both of which the four girls had been through. Just another day in the Get-Down.

  “Monitor shows they just landed. Should be here any minute,” Vivian said.

  “Good, because I’m ready to boogie on Bourbon.”

  “Yeeehawww! Now that’s the Lucy I’m looking for!”

  Yeehaws echoed from the escalator and they looked up to see Wendy and Kate waving and shouting, wearing matching green T-shirts. As they got closer, Vivian could make out the details of the shirts. The top said “Wendy’s last hurrah” in emerald green letters and had the four of them portrayed as caricatures. Vivian standing under a Bourbon Street sign, slinging a boa around a guy’s neck, Lucy and Kate, doused in beads, hurricane glasses held high cheersing, and Wendy, also holding a hurricane but wearing a veil and sash that said “bachelorette.”

  “Hey there, soon-to-be-married lady!” Vivian gave Wendy a big hug, then Kate. “I love the shirts!”

  “Yeah, they look great,” Lucy said, reaching out and touching Kate’s. “Love the soft cotton and the V-neck.”

  Kate squeezed her back. “Thanks, I made them online. Thought we needed something to commemorate the trip.” She whipped two more out of her carry-on. “You gotta change into your getaway gear!” She tossed them to Vivian and Lucy.

  “Yes, go change!” Wendy clapped.

  “Okay, we will, but first I have something for you,” Vivian said to Wendy, reaching into the outside pocket of her suitcase. She pulled out a gold sash decorated with purple, sparkly letters that spelled out Bachelorette. Condoms were glued here and there, along with little mini-penises and shamrocks. “I made it and you gotta wear this the whole time we’re here.”

  Wendy shook her head and made no move to grab it. “Oh no, no way. I’ll wear it tonight on Bourbon, but that’s it.”

  Kate delicately placed it over Wendy’s head. “We knew you’d say that, but we’re here to celebrate you getting hitched, so you’re wearing it! Plus, it’s decorated for St. Patty’s day!”

  “Yes,” Vivian said. “It’s a multipurpose penis Patty sash!”

  Wendy threw her head back in defeat and laughed. “You guys are too much.” She straightened it out and grabbed her suitcase. “Y’all go put on your shirts. Let’s go!”

  Vivian and Lucy hust
led off to the restroom to don their new duds, while Wendy and Kate hung out with the bags. New shirts on, the girls headed outside to the taxi stand. An Astro van made in the previous century pulled up. The cab driver opened the back and assisted with their luggage, his underarms and back wet with sweat. Lucy gave everyone the look, then climbed inside, inspecting her seat before sitting down.

  Once everything was loaded and the van was in gear, the driver asked, “Where to?”

  “Hotel De Lis on Canal Street,” Kate instructed, then she turned to the girls. “Have y’all been watching that ‘Swamp People’ show?”

  “Uh, no,” Lucy said.

  “I’ve seen the commercials, it looks awesome,” Vivian said. “I just don’t have time to watch trash TV.”

  “It’s not trash TV,” Kate, the brainiac, said.

  Wendy dropped her sash, which she was inspecting. “If it hasn’t been mentioned on Ellen Degeneres, I haven’t heard of it. What the hell are Swamp People?”

  “Choot ’em! Choot ’em!” Kate yelled.

  “Choot dat alligata!” the driver shouted, making a gun with his fingers.

  Wendy laughed and said, “What?”

  “It’s a show about people who live in the Louisiana swamp and hunt alligators,” Kate said. “But with their accent it sounds like ‘choot’ instead of ‘shoot.’ ”

  Lucy shook her head. “I can’t believe you watch that.”

  “I’ve been studying up for the trip. It’s actually pretty interesting. One of the guys uses a hook to snatch them off the bottom.”

  The driver nodded his head in agreement.

  “What you’re watching there is not what we’re about to experience here,” Wendy said. “Gator huntin’ is not in my plans.”

  “Hell, only gator I wanna see is one that’s fried and on my plate,” Vivian said.

  Wendy gave her a high-five. “Acme Oyster House, here we come.”

  “You know I’m not really going to eat that right,” Vivian said, reaching up to the vent above her head. Not much air was flowing, and what was, wasn’t cold. “Can you crank up the A/C, please?” she asked the driver. “I’m suffocating back here.”

  Lucy fanned herself. “It’s probably all the humidity.”

  The driver turned the knob, but not much happened. Definitely no increase in airflow.

  Lucy raised her meticulously shaped eyebrows and said under her breath, “Now we know why he has the perspiration problem, don’t we?”

  “Yeah, your hair’s starting to do a little frizz fest already.” Wendy smiled and nudged her with an elbow.

  Vivian rolled down the window and they chatted as the buildings in the business district grew closer.

  They turned off the interstate onto Poydras.

  “There’s the Superdome,” Wendy said, pointing out the window. “The Saints are my second-favorite team behind the Texans. That Drew Brees is a cutie.”

  They went a few more blocks and Vivian pointed to a line coming out of a restaurant in the warehouse district. “There’s the Motha-lode, right there! Mother’s Restaurant. We’re so going.”

  “I brought my expandy pants!” Kate lifted her T-shirt to reveal black pants with an elastic waistband. “I’m already wearin’ ’em!”

  “Even with all the walkin’ we’re about to do, we’ll put on a few,” Wendy said. “But it’ll be worth it.”

  The driver pulled to a stop under the porte cochere of Hotel De Lis. Valets helped the girls out of the van, and the bellman loaded their luggage. Giant planters of lush hibiscus with bougainvillea vines pouring over the sides lined the brick ledge around a fountain.

  The glass doors slid open and the cool air rushed forward, blowing Vivian’s blonde curls away from her face. “I love this place already,” she said, fanning herself with her shirt. “I’ll go check us in since I have the trust fund credit card!”

  The girls cheered.

  On their last trip to the Rocky Mountains, the girls helped to capture a fugitive. Since then, Vivian received a $50,000 reward check from the Thai government and a letter thanking her and the others for helping capture the criminal who had stolen millions in jewelry from one of their diplomats. The girls split some of the money, then put $20,000 into an account they called the Getaway Girlz Traveling Trust Fund.

  “Screw checking in. I’m wearing this freakin’ sash and I need a drink,” Wendy said. “We’re goin’ to the bar first!”

  “Tru dat!” Vivian said, following Wendy through the French doors leading to the Sazarac Lounge.

  “I love this place!” Kate said, running her hand along the back of the cowhide and chrome barstools. “And I love that!” She pointed to the backlit onyx bar, admiring the translucent panels within mahogany liquor shelves.

  The bartender tossed four beverage napkins onto the bar. “Welcome to the Sazarac, ladies. I’m Dabney, what can I get you?”

  “What’s a Sazarac?” Kate asked.

  “It’s a French Quarter concoction of whiskey, bitters, Herbsaint and a twist of lemon,” she answered. “It’s one of our signature drinks.”

  “I’ve had one.” Wendy shivered. “Go for it, Lucy.”

  “Oh what the hell, okay.”

  “I’ll have a Dos Equis for now,” Vivian said, hopping onto a barstool. “Saving myself for drinking debauchery in the Quarter.”

  Kate looked over the specialty drink menu. “I’ll have one of the De Lis Delight martinis.”

  “That sounds naughty! Maybe I need one of those,” Vivian said.

  “Says here it’s coconut vodka, blue curacao and a splash of pineapple.”

  “Nah, too sweet for me, I’ll stick with my cerveza.”

  Wendy looked at all the bottles behind the bar. “I’ll have a Grand Marnier 150.”

  “Coming up,” the bartender said and grabbed a hand-painted bottle off the shelf and poured it into a brandy snifter.

  “That looks fancy,” Kate said, whipping out her phone for a picture.

  “It is.” She held her glass up high. “And get a good look ’cuz this is the classiest I’m gonna be on this trip. It’s all downhill from here!”

  Chapter 2

  The girls relaxed in the lounge enjoying their first cocktails of the trip before Vivian checked them in. She mentioned to the front-desk clerk that they were there for a bachelorette party so he upgraded the girls to a room with a balcony overlooking Canal Street.

  A bellman helped the girls to their room and made sure they had everything they needed before opening the French doors to the balcony and pointing out various attractions. “Harrah’s is across the street. You can take Decatur to Café Du Monde and the French Market. Bourbon is a few blocks down. If you want to go to the Garden District I recommend the St. Charles streetcar, which you can catch at Carondelet. It’s a great way to see the city.”

  Lucy slipped him a tip and closed the door after him. She turned around and started dancing in the room. “Woo-hoo! Let’s get this party started!”

  “Let’s unpack real quick, then go find some Cajun cooking,” Kate said, unzipping her suitcase.

  Vivian lugged her suitcase onto the bed. “So is your soon-to-be hubby in Vegas yet?”

  “He’s probably landing right about now,” Wendy said, checking her phone for the time. “I imagine he’ll text me when he and the guys get settled.”

  “So what’s the story there?” Kate asked. “I thought y’all were going to have ‘the talk.’ ”

  Wendy folded a shirt and put it in a drawer. “We did and we hashed out all of the miscommunications we’d had before the Rocky Mountain trip. We love each other and want to make it work, so we figured it out.”

  “So figuring it out equals getting married?” Vivian asked.

  “Yep,” Wendy answered. “And he’s moving back to Houston. Turns out he was offered a great opportunity with his company, so it was kinda meant to be.”

  “We’re happy for you!” Kate said.

  “Thanks. The hardest decision was where
to get married. With his family in North Carolina and mine in Houston, I suggested a destination wedding, but he thought a big wedding in Houston would be best. I’m looking forward to celebrating with everyone, so giving up my idea of a beach wedding wasn’t too hard.”

  Lucy placed the last neatly folded shirt into her drawer and shut it. “So what happened to Mr. FBI guy?”

  “Yes,” Vivian said. “Whatever happened to Waaaaaaaaaade?”

  “Nothing ever really happened with Wade. And it never would, not with his job. We talked a couple times after I got home, and he was in Houston one weekend. We met for cocktails, but it was after the engagement.”

  “How’d he take it?” Vivian asked.

  “He said he was happy for me, but I think he was a little disappointed. I also think he was kind of relieved.”

  “On to serious business — where we goin’ for lunch?” Lucy asked.

  “I have a few places I absolutely want to hit while we’re here,” Wendy said. “Johnny’s Po-Boys is one of my favorites. It’s off Decatur, walking distance. Let’s start there, then see what other kinda trouble we can get into!”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Vivian said, shoving the last of her stuff into a drawer and forcing it to close.

  “Hold your horses, I need to freshen up a bit,” Lucy said, walking to the bathroom.

  “Give it up with the hair, sister,” Wendy said. “In this humidity, it’s either going to get frizzier, wilt or melt.”

  Lucy adjusted her girl’s trip shirt, then she sleeked her hair into a high ponytail and exhaled, frustrated. “That’s about all I can do with it.”

  “It looks cute,” Kate said, then looked at her own reflection. “Maybe I should do mine too.”