Chapter 66
New Year’s Eve was here at last. Stacey had arrived safely and, most surprisingly, on time and now the three of them jockeyed for position in the suite that suddenly seemed far too small as they hurried to get ready. John finished first and soon said his farewells as the guys had to leave early for sound check. They promised to meet up with him later and he made them swear they would get there in time for the show. Loyal oaths and promises out of the way, he kissed Gen and dashed out the door.
While Stacey took a shower, Gen laid her ensemble out on the bed: one skimpy red halter style top covered in square red sequins that primarily swathed only the front of her torso and not the back (which caused her to thank the weather gods for giving her the most marvelously mild December weather she’d ever witnessed), one recycled leather mini skirt from her Buffalo trip, wide weave fishnet stockings (which she hoped didn’t look too trampy because she thought they were awfully fun), and a pair of high heeled black shoes (which she prayed didn’t cause her too much pain over the course of her evening). She planned to top it all off with a bejeweled tiara with multi colored stones that was overly grand but perfect for the evening. She felt like a little girl playing dress up… and that’s exactly how one should feel on New Year’s Eve, she decided!
When Stacey emerged from the shower revived and fragrantly refreshed in her fluffy robe, she admired Gen’s knack for dazzling party wear assembly. “This is gonna be the sparkliest New Year’s ever, I’d say!” she said with a wink. She escaped to the sitting area to collect her outfit as well, which she laid out beside Gen’s. Hers consisted of a slinky silver camisole also encrusted in beads and sequins (which she’d found on sale at Dillard’s in March for a mere $5.99- a fact which almost made her regret having to remove the price tag), slender black tuxedo pants with a satin stripe down the leg (which weren’t exactly cheap, but they were perfect for tonight… and she thought she looked damn good in them), and black sandals with silver beads which, like Gennie’s, had very high heels and were accompanied by a silent prayer for a painless evening.
Upon laying eyes on Stacey’s shimmery evening attire, Gen gasped with glee as she pulled a black top hat from her bag. “This hat is perfect for your outfit!” she exclaimed. This was no ordinary black top hat. This was a garishly decorated hat, festooned with feathers, glitter, tinsely doo-dads and even tiny champagne glasses and an itty bitty bottle of bubbly affixed to the brim. It had been a real toss up which hat she would adorn her head with tonight, but when she saw Stace’s outfit, she knew she’d made the perfect choice.
Together the two friends got ready for their big evening, dividing their time between the full length mirror where they could assure themselves of a wrinkle free appearance and the bathroom mirror where they painstakingly applied makeup and, most importantly, bright red lipstick- something they had never gone without on any New Year’s since they’d known each other in high school.
Those vital procedures complete, they hurried down to the ground floor with the intention of eating a fast meal in the hotel restaurant. Much to their disappointment, they found that the café had closed and the restaurant was now open for its New Year’s Eve dinner buffet.
“Yeah, at seventy five bucks a head, they’d better be giving me the dishes as souvenirs!” Stacey mumbled when they caught wind of the price.
“And make the waiter be your personal servant for the evening!” Gen tossed in.
Thinking this to be an outrageous sum to squander on a meal that was more of a utilitarian nature rather than a decadent one, they chose to try their options as they hit the town. The plan at this point was to cruise down Bourbon Street and check out the bars and, more importantly, the crowds, then head over to the House of Blues for the show.
As they walked the short distance to Canal Street and over to Bourbon, they found that as flamboyantly as they were dressed, they barely stood out in the eclectic crowd they encountered on the famous party avenue. It was only seven thirty, and already the party atmosphere was in full swing!
Their first stop was a daiquiri bar that prided itself on having the largest daiquiri selection in the universe. Upon laying eyes on the seemingly mile long line of swirling silver machines, neither Gen nor Stacey felt inclined to disagree with their claim. They quickly found their way to a bartender who efficiently fixed them up with a pineapple banana concoction and something he called the “new years surprise”. Stace found that it tasted like peaches and strawberries- not a very surprising combination. Drinks in hand, they set out once again to delve deeper into the heart of New Orleans Party Central.
Gen decided that they hadn’t “done New Orleans” right unless they had a hurricane at Pat O’Brien’s. Down the street they marched, a little slower and a lot more jolly than they were just a couple blocks back. They reached the famed drinking establishment and soon found a seat in the courtyard in back.
Animated and lively, their laughter caught the attention of all but the most intoxicated of bar patrons. One such man was even brave enough to approach them. So involved were they in their own merrymaking, that they barely noticed his advance until he spoke.
“Ladies,” he began in a slow, slurred, southern drawl. “To what do I owe the incredible good fortune to happen upon such fine, and might I say, well dressed and unescorted young ladies as yourselves?”
His long-winded greeting put Stace and Gennie into fits of laughter.
“Did you just say hello?” Stacey asked, bubbling with giggles.
“I suppose that I did,” he smiled and eyed her as though he imagined himself as something of a modern day Rhett Butler.
“Really? Well, hi,” she smiled back with more of a restrained laugh than a sincere smile.
“How come two such fine looking ladies don’t have gentlemen with them this evening? No lady should be unescorted on New Year’s Eve, especially in New Orleans,” he flirted in a desperate attempt at making some inroads for himself.
“We aren’t exactly alone. They’re just not here,” Gen presented to him matter of factly.
“But where on earth could any man go that would be better than sitting right here with you two good lookin’ ladies?”
Stacey rolled her eyes. This one was trying too hard. “If we told you, you’d never believe us.”
“Aw, try me, now. I’ll believe anything you tell me, sugar.”
Gen and Stace exchanged glances and tried not to laugh. Should they get rid of this loser now? Or should they hang on to him and make him squirm? In the end, they decided to be nice… and only make him squirm a little.
“The guys are at House of Blues,” Stacey volunteered.
“And they left you to the wilds of Bourbon Street to fend for yourselves? That’s downright shameful!”
“Nah, we’ll do
better without ‘em. It’s hard to earn beads with your boyfriend beside
you!” Gen giggled.
“Aw, now you ladies are talkin’! Gonna try to get ya some beads, are ya?”
“Sure are!” Gen grinned. She knew he didn’t believe her. She wasn’t sure what it was about southern men, but they always expected ladies to be so demure. Gen was many things, but definitely not demure. “As soon as we finish these drinks!”
“Well, if you don’t mind, I was planning on checkin’ out the sights on Rue Bourbon myself. I may tag along at your heels.”
Stacey shrugged, “Eh, whatever you want. What’s your name anyway?”
“I’m Jack. And what might your names be?”
Before any words left Stace’s mouth, Gen volunteered some information. “I’m Roxy, and this is my friend Lola.” She somehow managed to get the words out without laughing.
Stacey was valiantly restraining her giggles as she extended her hand. “Hi Jack, I’m Lola… Lola Bama,” she smiled pulling her last name from a book she’d read on the plane.
Gen’s outburst of laughter was caught in her glass so fortunately he didn’t notice. She watched for a little while as Jack flirted with “Lola”. Once they’d both finished their drinks, they tried to escape thinking that Jack would rather stay behind with his friends, but no such luck. Just as he’d said, he tagged along at their heels- so they made him carry the bags with their souvenir hurricane glasses.
After a little carousing and a lot of drinking, the two girls (sans their southern gentleman) somehow made it to the backstage room at the House of Blues before the show began. The atmosphere was one of lively celebration; lights were dim, the champagne was flowing, and cheerful holiday laughter filled the room.
As soon as John spotted her, his eyes lit up. Gennie loved the way he always looked genuinely happy to see her. She was glad that he never tried to hide his enthusiasm for her … and if he did, well, she was grateful that he really sucked at it. The funny thing was though, that the closer he got to her, the more his expression seemed to change to one that could probably best be described as curious astonishment- his wide eyes inquisitive and his mouth agape.
“Please tell me you bought all those beads!” he groaned as he laid eyes on the plethora of cheap (and some not-so-cheap) plastic necklaces adorning her already sparkling frame.
“Um… nope.” She tried gallantly to keep from grinning. “I earned these beads, baby!” she slurred with her sorry attempt at a New Orleans accent.
“All of them? Out there?” he asked, as he pointed in what he figured was the general direction of Bourbon Street. “Really?” He wasn’t sure why, but he was amazed. It really shouldn’t be that unbelievable that his girlfriend would do something like that. In fact, it was actually right down Gen’s alley now that he thought about it. She was a quirky girl and he wouldn’t put it past her to have planned it this way.
“Of course I did! What? You didn’t think I could get this many?” She put on a mock display of frustration. She had to admit that seeing him react this way was rather humorous.
“Did she do it too?”
“Oh yeah! Once I called her a suburban housewife, there was no stopping her!”
He laughed at the thought of Gen taunting her best friend into becoming a bit of a flasher. “So you went down to Bourbon Street and flashed your tits…repeatedly. Did you do anything else? Or was this pretty much the whole evening for you?”
“No, we did a few other things too,” she smiled. “I bought a voo doo doll! That’s kinda neat, huh?” She held up the crude rag doll with the pride of a little girl and her new toy.
He nodded. “Sure, I suppose.” He paused to take a breath and then looked at her with a naughty grin. “Does this mean I have to watch my back? You’re not gonna get me with that thing are you?”
“No. I’m not after you for anything… yet. But, you know… I was thinking you could change your name to the Voo Doo Dolls. Minimum of change required, y’know,” she teased.
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, cause that would be so much better.” He flicked at the sparkly bric-a-brac on her hat. “I thought this was gonna be Stacey’s. You were wearing the crown thing, right?”
“I was… but ohmigod! I have to tell you what else we did!” She grabbed John’s hand and trotted him over to where Stacey stood holding up a piece of paper and recounting her adventures for Robby, who was laughing so hard that tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Oh man, this is too funny! And I thought we had some good drinkin’ stories!” Robby chuckled. “You gotta tell him, Stace!”
John’s eyes darted back and forth between Gennie and her friend. “Do I really want to hear this?” he asked skeptically.
“Dude, this is too good to pass up,” Robby grinned.
“So, we’re strolling down Bourbon Street, just me and Gen and our buddy Jack…” she began.
“Jack… would that be as in Daniels?” John inquired with a knowing smile.
“Um, sure. For the sake of the story, we’ll say his last name is Daniels. Works for me, right Gen?”
“Sure,” Gen grinned. “He was from the south and he sure smelled like whiskey!”
This merited another unenthusiastic eye roll from John. The last thing he wanted to hear was that his girlfriend was getting wasted and hanging out with drunks in the French Quarter… present company excepted, of course.
“Anyway, we go to this bar that’s having all these bizarre drinking contests. They’re pretty funny, actually. And the next thing we knew… Gen and I were getting volunteered and we’re hauled up on stage, you know.”
“This can’t be good,” John said looking to Robby who had this inane grin on his face in expectation of the ‘punch line’ to this story.
“So…. Um… long story short….” Then, beaming, Stacey held up her official document for him to read. The slightly crumpled and beer stained photocopy of a certificate was hastily filled out and declared the bearer “The Blow Job Champion of Bourbon Street”.
“She’s the queen, baby!” Gennie interjected.
They then explained that this was, in fact, a distinguished drinking title earned whilst kneeling and drinking a hurricane through a baby bottle held, incidentally, by a willing volunteer at approximately waist level.
“Good God!” he gasped then paused for a brief moment before the next obvious question popped into his mind. “Lola Bama?”
Once again, Gen and Stace exploded into fit of giggles, joined this time by Robby.
“Well, you don’t expect I’d put my real name on there, do you?” Stacey teased indignantly.
Gen looked her way and shrugged. “I woulda.”
John caught Gen in the corner of his eye. “But you didn’t win, did you?” He then offered Stacey a congratulatory smile. “I’m very…um…happy for you.” He said as a statement that sounded more like a question. “So what’s your secret?”
A mischievous grin fell across her countenance. “Suck hard and swallow fast, baby!” she exclaimed with two thumbs up. She was more Lola than Stacey at the moment and she had to admit that it was a lot of fun.
“Oh. Well, I’m sure Josh’ll be pleased.”
Just then an unknown person poked his head in the door and announced that it was almost show time. The fun filled party atmosphere changed to one of business as the guys put on their game faces and made sure they looked, felt and acted like rock stars.
Gen leaned close to give John a kiss. “We’ll be off now. See you in a minute!” she winked.
Before she could escape, he grabbed her by the arm and held her close. “I’m very disappointed, Genevieve,” he mumbled in her ear. “You should’ve won.”
“What? And give you bragging rights? I don’t think so!” she smiled coquettishly before turning on her heel to leave.
After finding their way to the bar and ordering another drink to keep their mild mannered personas at bay, Gen and Stace slowly shuffled their way up to their spot at the front. John always made sure that if she was out in the audience, Gen had a place right in front of him; a gesture he usually didn’t regret. But this evening, fueled by alcohol, the presence of her best friend, and ego (she did have an exceptional number of beads around her neck, and that must account for it he figured), he was beginning to wonder if he would regret that decision tonight.
Things started off pretty calm, but the more frenzied the crowd became, the more Gen and Stacey joined in. New Year’s Eve crowds are always a lot more raucous than usual. Now, take that same crowd and get them liquored up and place them in the heart of the French Quarter in New Orleans, and you’ve got exactly the type of crowd that Gen and Stace belonged in tonight.
He tried not to lose track of the words as he watched the two of them laughing and dancing, stumbling, a few feet in front of him. They were lost in their own world as they sang along, or tried to anyway.
“I’ve got an idea,” Gen giggled in Stacey’s ear right before the band broke into a long instrumental interlude. She slipped a few strands of beads from around her neck while John’s back was turned, then as soon as he was close enough to hear her, she called out to him. “Show me what you got, darlin’!” she laughed wickedly as she dangled the beads before him.
He blushed and turned back around shaking his head. He figured he’d try pretending he didn’t know her at the moment; it seemed like a wise strategy. But the fact that Robby was nearly doubled over with laughter didn’t help matters. It was too late, the front section of the audience had already heard and the litany of catcalls and whistles had begun.
Robby seemed to have much more fun with it than John did at the moment. “Dude,” he commented as they segued into the next number, “You’d better have fun with this cause this is too fuckin’ funny!” He was laughing, but it was almost a reprimand to his friend for being such a stuffed shirt on a night like this.
John clued in to his message, and after a few swallows of a fresh drink, he was ready to go head to head with the two hecklers in the front row. He dedicated the next song to “The Queen and the lowly runner up who couldn’t suck hard enough or swallow fast enough. I think she’s gonna need some practice,” he said with a wink.
When Gen heard this and noticed everyone near her staring at her, she felt a hot rush of embarrassment and playful vengefulness. This was all out war and she was going to get even. For the rest of the evening, she tried unsuccessfully to throw him from his game. Their exchanges were lost on most of the crowd since no one could hear her, but it made for an entertaining show, nonetheless. At one point, a security guard even came over with the intention of removing the “riff raff”, but Robby waved him off. To which the guard responded with a puzzled look and a very confused shrug before walking off.
At a few seconds to midnight, instruments were put aside and champagne was passed out on stage as Robby led the countdown. John emerged from the side stage just before the final moment bearing huge smile and an extra glass of bubbly. As the clock struck twelve, multi colored balloons, streamers, and confetti rained down upon their heads while the sounds system was cued up to a classic rendition of Auld Lang Syne. The audience was filled with drunken and seemingly amorous people who appeared to grab the closest person to them for a New Year’s kiss before breaking into what limited words they knew to the New Year’s standard.
John set the glasses down and hopped off the stage to give Gen a wildly passionate kiss- much to the amazement of the few in the crowd paying attention, who thought this woman was just some random heckler. “I love you, Genevieve,” John said into her ear so she could hear him over the din. “I wanna make this the best year ever.” He pulled away slightly to look her in the eyes, a serious expression on his face. “So I was wondering…”
As he paused to take a breath, the song came to an abrupt end and at once people’s attention was turned back to the stage and consequently to John, who was no longer standing on it. A mêlée ensued as excited women tried to get closer to their idol. Outstretched arms grabbed and pawed at him, forcing him to retreat back to the stage, with an apologetic glance at Gennie.