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on, but they were all escaping her. And she was beginning to feel like a fool.
    Was she worse off-mentally or emotionally-than she had thought?
    No!
    Susan was still staring at her. And she didn’t seem to be concerned about her crystal ball but about Lauren herself.
    â€œWhere are you girls staying?” Susan asked.
    â€œThe Old Cote,” Deanna said.
    Susan frowned in puzzlement. “I don’t know it.”
    â€œIt’s a lovely place, made up of several cottages. It was kind of a family compound before the storm, but they’ve opened it up as an inn now as way to recoup some of their losses. The grandmother—the family matriarch, I guess—is enjoying it, so I guess the place will stay around for a while. I found it on line,” Deanna said, her enthusiasm for their little discovery evident.
    â€œBut where is it?” Susan asked.
    Deanna seemed a little surprised by the fortune teller’s persistent tone. “Off Conti and a good bit back from Bourbon, luckily. The noise is great when you’re part of the party, but when you’re trying to sleep, it can be a bit much.”
    â€œYou have to move. Move into the biggest, most crowded hotel, and room together, stay together, until you can get out of New Orleans,” Susan warned.
    â€œBut we’re not leaving,” Heidi said. “Not for several days. This is my bachelorette party.”
    Susan shook her head, a look of dismay on her face. She stared at Lauren, and Lauren knew that her own expression must have shown the woman that she was already feeling silly and skeptical, as if she had been the target of a trick—or a joke.
    â€œYou have to leave.”
    â€œOh, please,” Deanna said impatiently.
    â€œI’ll pay you for the damages,” Heidi said, starting to sound irritated.
    â€œYou came for readings. You’ve had them, and now you have to leave,” Susan said.
    Heidi pulled out her wallet and tried to give Susan money, but the woman only backed away. Heidi set the money on the table, shaking her head. Then she linked arms with Lauren, pulling her away. “You do not get to pick the fortune-teller anymore,” she said, dragging her along.
    As they put some distance between themselves and the Square, Deanna burst into laughter. “Didn’t you feel as if we had just walked into an old horror flick?”
    â€œI’m sure she was going to tell us to beware the bite of a werewolf any second,” Heidi agreed, and then she, too, burst into laughter.
    â€œAnd you! You fell for all her tricks,” Heidi told Lauren.
    â€œI did not,” Lauren protested, but silently she was thinking, Yes, I did. It was creepy as hell in there.
    She felt like an idiot now, though, as they passed Royal Street, nearly at Bourbon. Bands were playing loudly from several corners, the sound of jazz mixing with rock.
    â€œWe need a drink,” Heidi said. “Name your poison.”
    â€œMeow,” Deanna said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe Cat’s Meow. Karaoke,” Deanna said.
    â€œYou must be joking. We suck,” Heidi said.
    â€œAnd that’s why we’re perfect for karaoke,” Deanna said happily.
    â€œI need a lot more to drink for this,” Lauren said. The two of them had her laughing, buit karaoke was no more her style than mystical readings. “Wait!” she said, stopping in her tracks and forcing the others to stop, too.
    â€œWhat?” Deanna asked.
    â€œI’m only Heidi’s slave. Heidi, you don’t really want to sing karaoke, do you?”
    â€œYou bet I do!” Heidi said.
    Groaning, Lauren found herself dragged into the bar.
    It wasn’t that bad. The host was a handsome, well-built black man with an exceptional voice. His choice of music was great; the place was hopping. The entire room actually seemed to enjoy the rendition of “Summer Nights” that Heidi and Deanna laughed their way through.
    But when