He was grinning now. “Interesting.”
“Right? So I made one.” I sipped my water. “That’s actually how I ended up at your bar. The voodoo love potion was one of the things on the list. And so was this—” I waved around at the restaurant. “Playing tourist and local.”
He tilted his head, eyes glinting. “So I’m part of your little game?”
“Pretty much,” I said, laughing.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “So where’s this infamous vision board? I feel like I need to see what I signed up for.”
“Oh, it’s at my hotel,” I said, reaching into my purse. “But I have a picture.” I scrolled through my phone and handed it to him. “Behold: the masterpiece.”
He took the phone, and for a few seconds, the only sound between us was the low jazz playing in the background and his quiet laughter as zoomed in to read. “You really made a list,” he said, shaking his head.
“I’m nothing if not organized in my recklessness,” I said proudly.
He laughed again, handing the phone back. “Well, I’m honored I made the cut. And I gotta say—‘playing tourist and local’ sounds like a good time.”
“It’s supposed to be,” I said, sipping my drink, watching him over the rim of the glass.
He leaned forward just a little, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Good. Because I know the perfect place for our next stop.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, eyebrow raised. “Should I be scared?”
“Probably,” he said with that smooth, teasing tone. “But you said you wanted to feel something, right?”
I smirked, feeling my heart thump once, hard. “I guess I did.”
He grinned, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. “Then buckle up, Lyrix. The real tour starts now.”
5
Lyrix
We left the restaurant with full stomachs and happier hearts. I was still laughing about how good the stuffed omelet was when we turned the corner and suddenly ran right into a wall of sound.
A brass band was coming down the street, horns blaring, drums pounding, people shouting and waving white towels in the air.
“Oh my God,” I said, eyes wide. “I like this!”
Maison grinned, already pulling his phone out to record. “Second line, baby. Welcome to a New Orleans.”
It was pure magic. People were dancing like the street belonged to them, and honestly, it did. One man in a linen suit was twirling his cane. Women in dresses waved their fans in sync with the horns. Even a dog had on Mardi Gras beads.
Maison was in it instantly, jumping straight into the crowd. The music swallowed him up, and all I could see was his tall frame moving with perfect rhythm, that easy smile spreading across his face like he was exactly where he belonged.
“Come on!” he shouted over the band, waving me forward.
I shook my head, laughing. “I don’t dance sober in public!”
He grinned. “Then this is the perfect place to start.”
Before I could protest, he was already making his way toward me, moving through the crowd like music guided him. He reached for my hand, and something in me just… gave up trying to be chill.
“Maison!” I laughed as he pulled me closer.
“Lyrix,” he said, smiling down at me. “You said you came here to feel something. So feel it.”
The horns hit a high note, and suddenly the energy was contagious. Someone behind me yelled “Ayyyeee!” and the whole crowd joined in. The beat picked up, the drumline hit a roll, and before I knew it, I was moving.
