New Orleans chapter 6

New Orleans

1990's

Mayson's  Grandfather had grown up in Louisiana and had ran for higher ground as soon as he could.  If he was still alive she wasn't sure if he would approve of her returning.  She felt like fate had kept whispering get to New Orleans!  Her car windows were open and the damp thick air took over the car. She put the hand written directions from her cousin Dwayne on the passenger seat.  It read- take the 10 almost like you're going to the river, veer to the left then look for the Claiborne Ave exit,  find Rampart and your there.  Be sure to find legit parking, be smart. Yes Cousin Dwayne was sending an innocent into debauchery, sin and magic and all he could do was hope she was smart!  She dipped and swooped her car, veered left and found herself in some part of the Quarter.  She took one way, then another one way until she found a huge expensive parking lot next to the river.  She had an interview as a bartender on Bourbon Street in twenty minutes.  She dodged traffic on Decatur and entered the Quarter. Her little heels clicked over the cobblestone streets.  She had a throwback to the 20's red dress on and had put her waist length hair up into a big bun tied up with a red scarf that made her white hair pop.  Even with the light floral dress and hair up she felt like she had just stepped out of the shower and had forgot to turn the fan on.  She was glad she had put minimal makeup on or it would have been melted all over her face.  People got used to this right?   She straightened her shoulders and walked with confidence and purpose.  “Nothing screams prey like a gal looking around with map in hand” her cousin Dwayne had instructed her.  Mayson  knew Bourbon was four blocks from the river and she found she could have just used her nose to find it.  The sun baked the booze, trash and sweat into the flesh of the street, the taint of lost inhibition she thought to herself.  In the months to come the distinct smell would become less repulsive and oddly comforting.  The street could have been just like all the others in the Quarter.  It had attractive charming old buildings, classic storm shutters, ornate iron work except Bourbon had sacrificed her virtue for the city.  She bared the scars of a million forgotten nights,  She was drenched in neon and shocking signage.  Bourbon was unique and tragic. Mayson loved everything it represented a place caught in a different time, depravity, freedom and the ability to re-invent yourself.

She asked the young man attending the marble counter bar on the corner of Conti and Bourbon if she could talk to Eddie?  “I have an appointment for 10:00 with him." The guy gave me a lopsided grin and picked up the phone at the back of the bar. “Hey Eddie’s ten o’clock is here.”  He placed the phone back on the cradle and pointed to the bar stools around big barreled tables scattered down the narrow floor space.  “You might as well have a seat it could be a bit."  I half lip read all of this since stereo speakers mounted throughout pounded a foreign hip hop mix.  Inviting you to come in and party!  Naturally this was the place to party, an empty daiquiri bar at ten in the morning, who could resist?  The bartender could resist.  He was sitting in the far corner balanced on a little stool perusing the Gambit newspaper.  He was an interesting fellow dressed in black battered heavy boots. He was wearing paint stained faded and torn Levis that had been washed over and over for many years with a black loose fitting T-shirt that he had cut the sleeves off.   His intelligent face and strong features were only marred by large shadows under his eyes.

A tall man came through a side entrance finding me the only person in his bar.  He waved me to step outside away from the obnoxious music.  Eddie was a big and tall Eastern man.   His high end track suit said casual but his slick hair and touches of gold bling said something else.  He looked at my  resume, “So baby you can work all holidays, all shifts?”  Mayson  nodded, “yes no problem I don’t have any dependants or commitments.”  “Baby you have to work hard and do whatever you’re told to do?”  She should have been offended by all this baby stuff but it sounded like Eddie called everyone baby and she wanted the job so she tried not to flinch when Eddie said “well dress sexy and be here at six tomorrow night.  Don’t expect to be done until four or five in the morning.”  Malory smiled generously at the slick man “that sounds great I will be here!” “Go get your paper work from Deacon and bring it in tomorrow with you.” Eddie pointed to the tired artist in the corner and popped back in the service door without a goodbye.  Deacon stood up and grabbed the paperwork from a back counter. “Welcome to the Peach Peach Inc.   Fine establishments providing an array of fabulous flavored daiquiris to hundreds of tourist idiots nightly! " I gave a little giggle and shook his big hand grabbing my w2’s.

Wow a job as a bartender on Bourbon!  Well it was a daiquiri bar but they did have a full bar option.  It’s a start she would still put bartender on occupation,  how cool is that?  Next a place to live!  She had an hour to get from the Quarter to a street called Magazine.  Her cousin thought she would like the feel of the area.  With plenty of time to get a few blocks she tried to really soak up the here and now. New Orleans it felt like she had finally come home. It was one of those great days, and time of day where it felt like the sun had managed to soak up the cloak of humidity that sometimes seemed to drape over you.  The sky was blue and the clouds were puffballs not yet turning grey to angrily flash and sob on you in the typical storm soon to come around in the late afternoon.  She was in the residential area of the Quarter and the balconies overflowed with lush foliage.  Colored glass bottles had been broken into the tops of walls to deter you from crawling over.  What was behind those walls?  Perhaps the perfect garden, a fountain in the middle?  She inhaled the smell of Lucky Dog steam, fresh chicory coffee and food seasoned with amazing spices.

Her new apartment although not the fantasy Quarter cottage had its own appeal.  In the heart of what her landlord had called the Irish Channel she had located what must have been a manor at some point.  Three stories high and massive with a large front porch and a green maze for a front yard.  She came to discover this once huge home had been divided into apartments, each original bedroom or parlor perhaps had been separated into tiny distinctive living quarters.  She was led through the main entrance, then out to the back garden.  The caretaker chatted to her about the fun he had creating each space into an apartment.  He opened the tall door revealing rust painted wood floors and what must have been 24 foot ceilings!  He really had used the space wisely.  Tucking a small bathroom into the corner and erecting a loft large enough to fit a bed and dresser.  The tiny stairs up to the loft where almost vertical just waiting for a middle of the night neck break.  The kitchen was an afterthought and the total floor space must have only been 400 square feet. Mayson just loved it and asked if she could move in this instant!  It didn’t take her long to unpack what she had in her car.  She pumped up her air mattress in what she thought was the most intriguing loft.  She found an old missile trunk by the back dumpster and drug it in to put her TV on.  She didn’t have much but really when you had an entire city to entertain you how many comforts did you need at home, and that is just what she was going to do.  She drove back to the Quarter parking in a cheaper lot but still next to the river.  She walked along the large muddy river until she reached Jackson Square.  This was one of the ultimate tourists traps she had been warned.  Jackson atop his large white horse tall and proud.  The Cathedral possessed the backdrop the epitome of New Orleans. Just think this is the only city that could be home to Ann Rice's vampires and witches.   The playwright Tennessee Williams had been inspired here and William Faulkner had lived just down an alley from where she was standing.  Unfortunately the long history was spoiled and made seedy by all the people begging for money scattered in the two block radius.  She wanted to linger and stare but had been warned if you looked to long little tap boys would be in your face palm extended while there mother sat in some corner and waited for the days loot.  Mayson sat down on a bench and pretended to read the paper.  The area was cluttered with artists, some good some good enough.  Men had  painted themselves in gold and were trying to be statues on top of milk crates.  Psychics were passing the day reading books elbows propped on their little card tables.  She started to haze away just soaking in the warm damp air that smelled like gardenia and beignets, she sipped her hurricane (hey when in Rome) and just gloried in finally being here.  Lost in the pleasure of her accomplishment she didn’t notice the plump middle aged women that started to stare then wave at her.

Doris couldn’t believe the charge this slight girl was putting out!  She must read her and find out why she was practically metaphysically glowing.  Doris pushed herself out of her low folding chair as quickly as her over sized body would let and started waving with both hands at the young women with white blond hair.  “Hey, hello, girl, hey you on the bench.”  Mayson looked towards the shouting to see a women dressed like a cheap gypsy desperately waving in her direction.  O what had she done wrong?  Her blending in technique not gawking, reading a local paper, dressed casually was not working she had been targeted  for a tourist sucker.  “Yes, you girl in the red scarf.”  Doris yelled again the bangles on her wrist making a clatter as she continued to wave at her.  Part of Mayson  hated to be rude but wait wasn’t being rude part of becoming a city gal?  She was not going to get fleeced by this bored housewife!