Vieux Carré Voodoo Read Online Free PDF

him. All he needs is a run through the washer and he’ll be just fine.” She
kissed my cheek. “Your beads are all up in the front of the carriage. You know
what to do.”
    I did. She wanted me to stand up front, next to the mule
driver, and throw beads from there. She figured I’d get everyone’s attention and
then they’d notice the Devil’s Weed sign behind me, which would be good for
business. Dad handed me a go cup filled with mimosa—it was their drink of choice
for the parade. I climbed up front, hugging my brother and sister.
    “Nice outfit.” Storm smirked. He’s a lawyer, and loves
nothing more than giving me shit. He’s put on a lot of weight since the flood,
and his face is starting to take on a permanent reddish hue.
    My sister Rain punched him in the arm, making him yelp. Rain
is beautiful, married to a doctor, and loves nothing more than giving Storm
shit. “You’re just jealous because there’s not enough Lycra in the world to fit
your fat ass.”
    I laughed as Storm spluttered a bit. I left them to their
bickering and climbed to the front. I said hello to the other riders. Most of
them worked for my parents at the shop. They were an eclectic mix of Goth kids,
adorable young lesbians, and a couple of cute gay fraternity boys from Tulane,
proudly wearing their Beta Kappa letters. Mom and Dad treated them like members
of the family, and they all worshipped Mom and Dad. Then again, there weren’t
many employers in the world who kept their workers supplied with the best pot to
be found in southeastern Louisiana. They were all nice kids, but my favorite was
Emily, a cute lesbian who shaved her head and performed with a street band. She
had an amazing voice, better than most with lucrative recording contracts and
hit records. She’d come down for Mardi Gras from Chicago one year and decided to
stay. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and she put a strand of gold beads around
my neck. “Was afraid you weren’t going to make it,” she said as she gave me a
big hug.
    “And risk the wrath of Mom? Perish the thought.” I grinned
at her, stepping over the rise at the front to the driver’s bench.
    “Hey, Scotty.” Tanner Strickland was driving our carriage.
He used to work for Mom and Dad in the shop for a few years while he was getting
his master’s at Tulane. He was working on his PhD now, and worked driving
tourists around on buggy tours of the Quarter. He was a nice guy, his handsome
face concealed by a heavy beard. His fiancée, Anna, was a living statue in
Jackson Square—a brass bride. “Hope the rain holds off until we’re done.” He
whistled and grinned. “Nice outfit.”
    “Thanks, Tanner.” I stood on the bench next to him. Bags and
bags of beads lined the floorboards. I reached down and grabbed a couple of
handfuls, draping them over my arms. Just as I did, the carriages in front of us
started moving.
    I really had cut it close.
    Another gust of cold, damp wind made me shiver as the
carriage started rolling and I struggled to keep my balance. It’s not easy
balancing in a moving vehicle, and the last thing I wanted to do was take a
header off the stupid thing. Eventually I found my center of gravity and looked
off into the distance. The clouds in the distance over the West Bank were dark
and ominous looking, and the way the temperature kept dropping by the minute was
not a good sign.
    “Let’s get this party started!” I yelled back to everyone in
the back, and they cheered.
    There’s nothing like riding in a parade in New Orleans, even
a small one like this. Everyone in my family—excluding me and my
parents—belonged to one or more Mardi Gras krewes. Rain had let me ride with her
in Iris one year, and that had been one of the best experiences of my life. The
ladies of Iris know how to party—I was hungover the rest of the day and almost
missed the parades the next day because I was afraid to be too far away from a
toilet. The