“We thought it would be cute for you to have a little something blue from us,” said Ophelia. “You can wear them this weekend or save them for the wedding, whatever you want to do.”
“Yeah, that would look fire with your white sparkly dress for Friday night,” said Jolie, playfully fanning herself.
Evangeline popped up from the pile of pillows and hugged each sister’s neck. Without missing a beat, Jolie grabbed the bottle of champagne off the bar and filled Evangeline’s glass.
It had been a while since Evangeline lived in the usual path of a hurricane, so Ophelia imagined that the weight of one headed toward her on her bachelorette weekend felt immense. But hurricanes were part of life in New Orleans every late summer and early fall. They evacuated once when they were kids, and that was for Hurricane Katrina, which was utterly devastating, but it was a Category 5 storm in the Gulf, touching down as a Category 3 with a huge storm surge breaking the already flawed levees. There was a huge difference between Katrina and the tropical storm just now forming in the Gulf.
If the hurricane changes to anything above a Category 2, we’ll evacuate,Ophelia thought, calculating a backup plan. Jolie and Ophelia had cars; they could load up the bachelorette party and head to Jackson or Houston. Make a fun road trip out of it. She made a mental note to get triple the food and water supplies at the grocery store tomorrow. It would all work out fine for the weekend.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The three sisters arrived at the historic rental home in the Quarter with a car full of luggage and provisions. If the neighbors were watching, they may have thought the sisters were moving in permanently. They began unloading bags and boxes filled with alcohol, gallons of water, snacks, frozen pizzas, penis straws, boas, and batteries (for both sex toys and emergency flashlights), and enough outfits for the next year. Evangeline’s anxiety was high as Hurricane Oscar’s ominous red cone narrowed in on New Orleans, but, thankfully, both of Eva’s friends were able to board their planes this morning.
Ophelia and her sisters were giddy with excitement as she unlocked the heavy French doors on the side of the house. Entering through the courtyard, she felt like a little girl discovering a secret garden filled with lush tropical plants and a snaking indigo pool. She was instantly in love. The living room was large with luxurious, puffy couches, blush velvet accent chairs, and floor-to-ceiling windows with grand billowing curtains in iridescent azure. The kitchen was like a vision from a perfectly curatedHome and Gardenphotoshoot. Restored pinewood in the form of ceiling beams connected over a floor of smooth, faded brick that looked original to the house.
“First one on the bed gets the room. Thems the rules,suckas,” shouted Jolie as she shot past Ophelia, bounding up the stairs two steps at a time.
Eva followed Jo with a flushed face. “Jo, don’t you dare. I get the biggest room. It’sMYbach!”
It was like they had reverted to their childhood ways as the three of them clambered and giggled their way up the narrow staircase. It was without question that Evangeline would get the best room, but it was her older sisters’ right to tease her about it.
Evangeline chose the main bedroom with a king-size four-poster bed that was so high off the ground that there was a tufted wooden stepping stool that sat next to the bed. Evangeline demanded that the sisters sleep with her because she hated sleeping by herself. Jolie complied easily as she also hated sleeping by herself. Ophelia, on the other hand, absolutely refused. She was the tallest of the three and was built with long legs that needed space to stretch. So she compromised by promising one hour of snuggling each night before retreating to her own bed.
While Evangeline and Jolie unpacked, Ophelia explored the other rooms. Across the hall was a room with two twin beds overlooking a street. Further down the hall, past the bathroom, was a room with a queen-sized bed. The room was light and airy and held less personal trinkets than the other rooms. A vintage, gold-framed mirror sat on the fireplace mantel. Sheer window scarves made of glistening linen draped delicately, framing the two floor-to-ceiling windows. She lifted the dust-caked window and stepped out onto the small balcony overlooking the pool. The balcony held a single metal fold-out chair and matching table with an ashtray, and at the far right was a partially rusted spiral staircase winding down to the courtyard. It was perfect, so she claimed it for herself.
Later in the evening,Evangeline’s friends, Annie and Catherine, arrived at the French Quarter rental home. Annie was exhausted from her travel and kept smoothing down her ginger curls, which had shrunk from the humidity. Catherine naturally arrived in full force with unwanted chatter about Hurricane Oscar.
“So what’s the plan with this hurricane coming toward us?” Catherine asked as she tapped away on her phone.
“Oh, Eva,” said Annie. “I can’t believe a hurricane is coming this weekend!” Annie sat next to Catherine and propped her feet up on the coffee table.
“It will be completely fine,” Ophelia said enthusiastically. “We are going to have a slumber party tomorrow night in lieu of trekking through the nasty rain.”
“Good,” said Catherine, grimacing at her phone. “Because a curfew was just put in place. No one can go outside after seven p.m. on Saturday anyway. Great. How am I supposed to get back to work in time if they stop flights too?”
“God, I’m sorry, y’all,” said Eva.
“Don’t be sorry,” piped in Jo. “We are going to have a great fucking time. We’re going out tonight!”
In an effort to turn the mood around, Jolie put on her pop star playlist, and the energy shifted from anxious to playful as the friends loosened up and began dancing and singing along to their favorite songs while drinking cheap champagne.
They had plans that night at the House of Blues to see the sisters’ favorite band from their high school days, Ivy Savage and the Drifters. The sisters idolized the lead singer Ivy, with her raspy, rock n’ roll voice and her stunning collection of short, sequined dresses. She was iconic to them, the cool chick they always wanted to be.
Evangeline, Jolie, and Ophelia dressed in similar tight, shimmery dresses for the concert to honor their teenage idol. Ophelia found all three dresses— white, gold, and silver— at a vintage store by her house and bought them with zero consultation from her sisters. They were too perfect. Evangeline lookedstunning in the iridescent pearl dress and the baby blue strappy heels that Ophelia and Jolie gifted her. Both Jolie and Ophelia had golden brown hair from their dad and knew the gold dress would look better on both of them than the silver, so Ophelia threw on the gold dress before Jolie was able to protest.
Once everyone was ready, they exited the house with linked arms and hot pink solo cups filled to the brim with booze and clambered down the uneven streets of the Quarter as light mist began to envelop the city. They were sirens dripping in shimmer, courtesy of well-applied makeup, striding on sharp, weapon-like heels. Their calves and thighs flexed with each step. Hair cascaded down their backs as pearls of precipitation clung to their tresses. Ophelia imagined them as mermaids washed ashore from the banks of the Mississippi. Here for the night to wreak havoc on all who crossed their path. They were truly glittery and glorious.
The swell of potential filled Ophelia. That feeling that only a night out can give, the taste of the unknown.Who will I meet? What will happen? Where will we end up?
The friends arrived at the House of Blues with enough time to snag drinks before the first act. Downing the last of her champagne from the walk, Ophelia ordered a round of drinks for the group. Thankfully, the venue wasn’t full yet, and they were able to grab a table near the side of the stage. Ophelia had her eye on a standing spot, front and center, for when Ivy took the stage. When more people arrived, she would need to claim it, but for now, as people milled about, she rested her feet, knowing she would need them for the next several hours. Around the dented wood table, the sisters casually chatted about their excitement for the concert, while Evangeline’s friends continued to worry about Hurricane Oscar.
“I wonder if we should check into a hotel outside of New Orleans tomorrow. Hotels usually have generators, and I don’t want to be stuckin a rental without electricity,” Catherine whispered to Annie, widening her eyes in seriousness.
Ophelia found Annie and Catherine’s fretting tiresome, soshe distracted herself by looking around the room, observing the multitude of patrons chatting and drinking. As if her eyes were drawn to him with a magnet, she recognized a man at the bar.
“Jo.” Ophelia nudged her with her elbow to get her attention. “Look at the guy in the black tee by the bar. The hot one with good hair.”
“Oh yeah, def hot,” said Jo. “Who’s that?”
