“Nuh uh. I’m the host, I’ll get you a drink.” Ophelia handed him a Miller Lite out of the fridge. His favorite. He smiled wide, only for a second, then murmured a quick thank-you and turned quickly back to the spread of food.
“How’s Sarah? Is she coming today?” Ophelia prodded.
“Ah…yeah, well. No. We’re not together anymore.” Ettienne shrugged as he filled his plate. He didn’t seem too bothered by the breakup.
“Shit. Sorry. Jade didn’t tell me.”
“No worries. It’s a new development.” Etienne topped his plate off with two pieces of bacon and went silent again.
The music suddenly changed to Ben’s favorite song, which happened to be Ophelia’s least favorite— “Who Let the Dogs Out?”She groaned, looking desperately at Etienne. “Whyyyy? Why does he insist on playing this song at every party?”
Etienne’s wide chest shook from his laugh. “I don’t know, but he can’t be stopped.” He gave Ophelia a sympathetic smile and quickly walked away. Ben was really trying to get everyone into the song, pumping his fists into the air and bobbing his head.Ophelia winced in disbelief that she had actually had sex with this man.
After everyone was properly tipsy and full of biscuits, they piled into Ubers and rode through the city, observing various groups of people in red dresses hopping onto streetcars and catching rides. The early morning energy of the city was electric. The sky was vibrant, and the oak trees appeared grander than ever before, leaves twitching to the rhythm of a saxophone player on St. Charles Avenue. Ophelia rolled down the window of the car and leaned out, listening to the music drift by.
Ophelia felt electric, too. It wasn’t an abnormal feeling for her to have before going out, but this time she was humming on a different plane. It was like her magic was building and ready to burst, and everywhere she looked out of her window appeared brimming with mysticism. The arch of the oak tree, the crack in the sidewalk, the rust of a wrought iron fence. The smallest details captivated her so deeply that she felt the atoms of her body transform.
She took a sip of her to-go drink and let her untapped magic guide her through the revelry.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The friends arrived on Bourbon Street to a river of crimson nylon and polyester. Revelers were dancing, singing, talking, kissing, and the scene looked like hundreds of red fishing bobbers being pulled underwater by varying degrees of intoxication. Ophelia and her friends set out into the depths, weaving through the streets in search of their first stop.
“THE BEACCHHHHHH!” Jade yelled as she spotted her favorite bar from her early twenties.
Ben grabbed the first round of drinks. Ophelia took a big gulp of her gin and tonic with lots of lime. Old-school rap blared through the speakers, sparking Ophelia and Jade to jump on the dance floor. An older man in his seventies began dancing elaborately, spreading his scrawny legs wide while gyrating to “Big Poppa.” His ’80s-style prom dress was flying in the air, revealing a pair of fresh tighty-whities. Giggling hysterically, Jade, Jolie, and Ophelia joined him. By the end of the song, Ophelia was sweating, and half of her drink was on the dance floor.
Their group hopped from bar to bar, grabbing a drink at each place and pausing for a dance. Ophelia made a lot of effort to coax Jack out of his shell, but he eventually left them, mumblingabout how unsanitary and unholy Bourbon Street was. He wasn’t wrong.
Meanwhile, Ophelia had been dodging Ben’s unwanted advances all morning. He was not aggressive by any means, but he’d touch her arm while talking or throw an arm around her shoulder. Ophelia very clearly backed away each time. He grabbed her while dancing, and she suddenly needed to sit because her “shoes hurt.” They were sneakers. He seemed to back off after that.
Eventually, Jade and Luke needed to sober up and relieve Jade’s mom from babysitting. However, the remainder of the friends stumbled into a divey jazz club advertising ice-cold air-conditioning on a tacky white poster board taped to the window. As they walked in, a blast of cool air almost knocked Ophelia backward into the bouncer.
Jolie and her friends staggered in behind her and made a beeline for the bar, where they ordered shots for everyone. Ophelia had made it this far without taking a shot, and she began looking around for a quick getaway. Ben and Etienne were already at a high-top tossing back fireballs with their guy friends. Etienne looked particularly miserable as he swallowed the shot. They caught eyes for a second, and Etienne’s dipped to her lips, lingering on her beauty mark before abruptly looking away. It happened so fast that she was certain she had imagined it.
“Get over here and take this damn shot!” Jolie yelled at Ophelia from across the bar. “Evangeline is on FaceTime!” Jolie waved her phone in the air, and Ophelia could make out a fuzzy image of the youngest Oubre sister smiling on the phone.
“Evangeline! We miss you, babe! I need you to come save me from Jolie and her damn shots.”
“Shots, shots, shots,” chanted Jolie.
“I just want to be clear that I am the nice sister and will not force you to take shots on your bach,” said Ophelia to Evangeline.
“Blah, blah, blah.Iabsolutely will, though.” Jolie cackled. “Bottoms up, bitch!”
The two sisters raised their shots, tossed the cheap tequila back, and slammed the bottom of the shot glasses on the bar top.
“Ack!”
“Can’t wait to see you next week to celebrate!” yelled Jolie into the phone. Ophelia was certain Evangeline couldn’t hear a word they were saying in the loud bar, but it didn’t matter.
The tequila settled in her bloodstream, and just like that, she tipped over the edge to drunk. With loose limbs and loopy heads, Jolie and Ophelia ran upstairs to the balcony overlooking the swell of scarlet on Bourbon Street. The two of them began putting on a show for the crowd with sloppy yet coordinated dance moves from their childhood—high kicks, twirls, and a couple of jazz hands.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” Ophelia shouted through the noise from the street and the loud music coming from inside.
“Good luck,” said Jolie. “The line is out the door.”
Ophelia groaned at the sight of the long line. She contemplated whether she should risk using the men’s bar bathroom, which conveniently had no line. With her gin-induced confidence, she took a deep breath and ran into the men’s bathroom.
