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“Mel, what are we doing here?” She whispered to him, no longer bothering to pretend through her phone.
“The combination is eight-six-eight-nine.” He nodded at the lock.
Anastacia looked up and down the street finding only a few dark souls who kept their distance with Mel at her back. Sighing, she spun the numbers on the lock, slipping into the building when the door opened, making sure to close it securely behind her.
Stepping into the space, the new windows let in enough light for her to see that the walls were covered in maps of the different neighborhoods around the city. Bourbon Street and the Quarter, emphasized by the outline of a bar along the far wall.
“Welcome to the bar.” Mel chuckled, pulling himself up to sit on the lip of a small circular stage in the center of the room. Tables were stacked to one side with small replica statues shoved into a corner, ready to be set out along with the tables.
“This is the bar you were starting with Jason?” Anastacia’s eyes scanned an upper level where patrons would be able to stare down at the stage. Images of the Garden District flooded the upper level, the railing decorated with fake foliage that gave architectural nods to the neighborhood homes. The other walls showcased different neighborhoods or landmarks. “It’s amazing.”
“It’s not quite done, but thanks.” Mel’s weak smile was punctuated by the sadness in his eyes as he stood up and crossed to the middle of the space, pointing as he spoke. “Each area celebrates a different landmark or neighborhood of the city. From the Quarter, to Gentilly, to Lakeview, to Mid-City, and more. We chose specific foods for the menu to show the culture and mixture of New Orleans, the history, and the people thriving from the past and into the future.”
Anastacia watched Mel as he turned toward each section, rattling off stories or historical facts of the neighborhoods or relics of the city’s past. He turned giddy going from one fact to another, his hands running through his hair as he forgot something, only to backtrack to it. He reminded her vaguely of a master of ceremonies as he presented his world to her.
“Not to mention the Voodoo and the spiritual side of the city," he finished, gesturing to a section of the wall between her and the bar.
“Now you’ve got my attention.” She smiled and sauntered to where he pointed. Portraits of people long gone were hung at the side of the bar. Under each image, mysterious framed items or short stories accompanied the most notable figures. Anastacia’s eyes caught the figure of a woman toward the top corner of the mural. There was a nagging sense of familiarity, but with how many ghosts she ran into, she was sure she had crossed paths with the woman. “Who are they?”
“Voodoo priests and priestesses, magic users— oh! There’s a vampire on there too!”
“A vampire?”
“Yup, he stirred up quite a scare back in the day. I didn’t read too much about him. It’s not something I felt was believable. I mean, come on, vampires?”
“Says the disembodied spirit of a murdered man.” She chuckled and read over all the small snippets of information again before running her fingers over the maps. “Everything’s so detailed.”
“Drove Jay nuts how detailed I wanted it. But if you’re gonna do something like this, you do it right and you do it respectfully.” He beamed, watching her take it all in. “I love the history of the buildings, the sights, the people and where they came from. Who their ancestors were and how they shaped the city into what it is, what it continues to be.”
An unfamiliar ache spread across Anastacia’s cheeks as her smile felt like it stretched to the edges of her face. He was high on the passion he felt for the city, excitement pulsing off him, coaxing a giggle from her lips.
“What?”
“When I first came to New Orleans, I was trying to find a job and thought I would take a jab at being a tour guide. I kept getting lost and got all the buildings and streets mixed up. Not to mention the dark souls who liked to chase me. I would have sucked at it,” she explained as she crossed the room to sit on the edge of the small stage. She watched him until he sat down next to her. “You would have been a fantastic tour guide. You have the passion to make it spectacular.”
He chuckled, “You know, I was jealous of you when you told me you see spirits.”
“For the love of God, why?” She scrunched her nose.
“You get to see the city and its history in a way no one else could dream of. I understand now how terrifying it is, but to see history replayed and have the chance to speak with those who made the city...”
She looked him over. Really looked at him. His dark hair hung loosely over his ocean blue eyes, hiding his passion and intelligence with humor. There wasn’t a single word to describe him. Sure, he was handsome, sometimes even cute, but there was more to Mel. Something tended to flutter in her chest and her throat because of his smile. It was rare to find someone, dead or alive, who cared if she laughed. Even rarer was to find someoneshewanted to make happy in return.
“I’ve never thought of it that way. Thank you.”
He paused, opening his mouth to say something, but stopped, mouth hanging open.
“What?” She felt his gaze, but it wasn’t heavy. Instead, it was warm, comfortable.
Something told her he was about to tease her again, but once their eyes met, he swallowed hard as if swallowing his words. He shifted in his seat. “Our bar would have been all about the history and essence of this city. I wasn’t born here, but I visited enough with my dad throughout the years. It’s become my home.”
Shrugging, his eyes dropped to the floor.
“I’m sorry you never saw the dream fulfilled.” Anastacia's voice cut through the melancholy that had settled.
“There’s nothing you could have done to stop my death.” Resignation pulled his shoulders forward. “It was only a chance meeting you even got to see me in the flesh. Lucky you.”
“Your beignets,” she remembered.
