"Well, I thought we could add a few newer songs to the set. I thought it would be cool if you could do the pirate thing during one of them."
"Oh I could see that. ‘Ar ya wee harlot, come to me, come to me now or I’ll make ya walk the plank’." He demonstrated.
"Well, not quite like that." Laurel laughed. BJ guffawed. "But something along those lines."
"By the way, thank you for deciding to sing ‘Goddess of Desire’ again. My vocal chords were killing me every time I had to sing it." Steve seemed relived.
"Why did you decide to sing it again?" BJ asked once he calmed down.
"I figured two things. The first was fuck the label. I’m a lesbian, I wrote the song, and they can get over it. The second was I’m already out, why hide it?" She followed her own brand of logic. "What are they going to do, fire me?"
"Nope, not with the way we’re progressing. Who’d have thought it?" Steve asked. "We’re a long way from playing in Beth’s garage."
"Yeah really. It’s weird. I didn’t really want to do this, I still don’t really, but it’s kinda cool to sit back and think about how many people would kill to be us." BJ commented.
"I thought you were getting used to life on the road?" Laurel asked. "You certainly have gotten used to the groupies." It was one bad thing about sharing a room. Whenever he had company, she was forced to wait in the lobby or in Steve’s room. Jenna had protested enough that they finally gave in and let her have her own room. It seemed a small price to pay for their sanity.
"That’s your problem I think." BJ looked as if he had been inspired. "You need to find a groupie and get a little."
"Thanks, but no thanks."
"You know, I think he’s on to something. You’d relax a lot easier if the toxins were allowed a chance to leave the building." Steve advised. Laurel had the ability to be seen as one of the guys and they often treated her as such.
"I’ll think about it." In truth, she had thought about it. She thought about it a lot, but she did not know how guilty she would feel the next day. "Wanna race?" She asked, more to take her mind off their suggestion than a desire to prove herself in competition.
"Sure."
"No thanks. I’ll referee." BJ declined.
"Alright then." Laurel made her way to the end of the pool. "There and back again?"
"That’ll work." Steve took his position beside her.
"On your mark, get set, go." BJ yelled. It was not a large pool, so the race only lasted a few minutes.
"Now that was almost fun." Laurel commented as she slicked her hair back.
"Only because you won." Steve grumbled.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Even though she did not care about swimming as a sport, she could not let herself lose. She was too competitive a person. "Come on, let’s go find something to eat." The exercise made her hungry.
"After a shower." Steve suggested. "I hate going around smelling like a pool."
"Meet ya in the lobby in twenty?" BJ asked.
"Make it thirty." Laurel corrected. "We’ve got to take showers too."
"Good point. See ya in a few." The drummer used the ladder to exit the pool.
"Damn. I forgot a towel." Laurel pulled herself from the pool without the benefit of the ladder. "Oh well. Guess it’s drip-dry back to the room. Come on, Muggster." She freed the puppy of her confinement. While Laurel was in the pool, Muggster wrapped her leash around the chair and table several times.
"See you later." Steve headed off toward his room.
"Yep." She pulled her shorts back up. The weight of the water caused them to hang low on her hips. "Come on, girl. Let’s go get a bath."
***
Nicole decided working freelance had drawbacks and advantages. The drawbacks were that she did not make a decent salary and she only got assignments maybe twice a week. Had she not been living back in the house, she would have been in trouble. However, the only things she was required to pay for now were food when she ate somewhere other than the house, clothing, and entertainment. Melba added dog food to the list of necessities she purchased every week, so Nicole did not have to worry about that either. What she did worry about was boredom. Since she only worked at most two days a week, she was left with a lot of time on her hands. She was not concerned about getting into trouble, rather she was concerned with the amount of time she spent thinking. The free time was as much a disadvantage as it was an advantage. The advantage was that she had been able to mentally clarify a lot and the work, when it came, broke up the monotony of thought.
When she was not at her grandmother’s side, Nicole could usually be found rummaging around in the attic. When not in the attic, she was practicing the violin or reacquainting herself with the piano. When that would fail to keep her interest, she would explore her grandfather’s library. She was starting to do anything to keep her mind quiet.
It was not as bad as it was during her first two months in New Orleans. She understood more now about herself and her relationships with most other people. Still, she had her own share of demons to vanquish, and that was a lot more tiring than most people would imagine. What amazed her was how much better, much stronger she felt after triumphing over a childhood fear or an anxiety formed in early adulthood.
The one thing she had the most problems with at the moment was the truth about her heredity. Adia’s little secret was something Nicole could have died quite happily without knowing. It set everything she ever thought about her family and herself on its side. Nicole was caught dead center in a private environment versus genes debate. It was more turmoil than perhaps it should have been, but the one thing she had always been able to count on no longer existed. If her father really had been the result of a liaison between Adia and a Greek sailor, than Nicole was not truly an Hebert. At least she no longer considered herself one. It was one more element she had to account for in redefining herself.
"Hey, are you the photographer from the paper?" A tall blonde made her way over to where Nicole was standing.
"Yeah. Nicole Hebert." It was automatic.
"Jenny Phelps. It’s nice to meet you." She offered her hand. "I’m a photographer for one of the magazines. Well, freelance anyway."
"Actually, I’m freelance too." It was the first time Nicole had met another freelance photographer. "You don’t sound like you’re from around here."
"I’m not. My home base is outside of Boston. I just came down here to find some work and a different locale."
"That’s gotta be fun." She wondered if she would ever find herself doing the same thing. It actually appealed to a small part of her that craved instability.
"It is, actually. This thing doesn’t start for a few more minutes. Where were you going to set up?"
"Somewhere close to the stage." Ironically, a Greek ship had requested permission to dock at the old port. It was no longer used much, but the City officials had agreed. Nicole had been asked to cover the docking ceremony. She really did not expect much brouhaha, but knew that the Mayor wanted good press. He was scheduled to greet the ship’s captain and officially welcome the crew to New Orleans.
"No tripod then?" Jenny asked.
"Nope. I don’t like them unless I’m shooting portraits or something." One thing Nicole had always been complimented on was her steady hand. She rarely needed to use a tripod.
"Cool. I don’t use one either. Let me tell you, if you scorn the tripod, you get a lot of weird looks." The blonde laughed. "There was this one time in France when I was taking pictures of Notre Dame amidst a crowd of street rats and tourists. It was hard keeping the shot steady with all the shuffling, but I managed to do it. The other guys there were all pissed because they had these large tripods and people kept tripping over them."
"Now that would be something to see." Paris was one place Nicole always wanted to visit. "Did you get pick pocketed?"
"No. I kept everything in a pouch under my clothes. One of the other guys did though." Jenny turned to look at her. "How new are you to all this?"
"All what?"
"Freelancing?"
"Brand new. I worked for a paper for a while, but got into a conflict with my boss. I quit and struck out on my own." It was not quite true, but it sounded more impressive than the real story. For some odd reason, Nicole wanted to impress this woman. Jenny seemed older, and Nicole guessed the blonde was maybe in her mid thirties.
"That’s basically how I started." Jenny elbowed her way to the front of the stage area. Nicole followed. "You’re local though aren’t you?"
"Yeah. I grew up here. How can you tell?" She asked as she readied her camera. The City officials and the higher ranked officers from the ship were milling about on the stage.
"You’ve got that soft, well bred Cajun accent. Bet you didn’t even know you had one, did you?"
"Not really, no I didn’t." Nicole paid a little more attention to Jenny’s words. "You’re local to Boston?"
"Born and raised. I’ve worked hard to lose the accent though."
"That explains the West Coast accent you have then. My brother’s got one." She noticed movement toward the center of the stage. She was glad all she was required to do was snap a couple of shots. Someone else was there to write it, but she did not know whom.
"Interesting. Oh well. Here we go."
The ceremony was rather dull. The mayor droned on about anything and everything he could think of for at least an hour. Nicole thought his speechwriter should be fired. By the time he called the Captain to the dais, everyone in the audience was covered in sweat and bored almost to tears. After snapping off a few pictures, Nicole thought it pointless to wait any longer. She turned to see Jenny dismantling her camera. Apparently the blonde had similar thoughts.
"I’m so glad I’m not a journalist." Jenny whispered. "Wanna get out of here and go for a drink?"
"Sure." Nicole readily accepted. She wanted to know more about what it was like to be a real freelance photographer. She was shocked to discover that she also wanted to know more about the intriguing blonde beside her.
"Well, since you’re local, why don’t you choose a place?" Jenny suggested as they made their way through the crowd.
"Ok." Nicole thought about what was close to their location. "Did you drive here?"
"No, I took a taxi. You?"
"Nope. Public transport." As annoying as they could sometimes be, Nicole still loved the trolleys and streetcars. It was walking from Canal Street to the docks that made her wish she had driven. "There’s not much around here. We have to walk back to the French Quarter."
"Well since we have to do that, we might as well go back to the lounge at my hotel. Does that suit you?"
"That can work." Nicole did not question the suggestion.
As they walked, Jenny related more stories of her time abroad. Several of the stories were amusing, and all of them made Nicole jealous. She wanted to travel the world and take pictures of her adventures. It was one fantasy she replayed often in her dreams. In her dreams, she was a famous photographer who traveled the world taking pictures of various indigenous cultures. The crowning moment in her dreams was when a book of her best photos was published and she made the rounds, toasted by academia for her skills.
Since Jenny was staying at the hotel by the Riverwalk, they caught the trolley instead of a taxi. It was cheaper, and it gave the blonde freelance photographer a thrill. She compared the New Orleans system to the one in San Francisco. Having never been to San Francisco but hearing about it, Nicole was eager to point out the benefits of her hometown’s system. She described the streetcar system that traveled daily from Canal Street to the Garden District in great detail. Jenny seemed very interested and asked questions about every little thing. Nicole was embarrassed to admit that she could not answer all of them. However, the information she was able to relate quelled her companion’s curiosity.
"So, what plans do you have for your career?" Jenny asked once they were seated at a table in one of the hotel’s bars.
"I haven’t given it much thought yet. I’ve not been doing this for long. Well, working as a freelance photographer I mean. I thought I’d stay local and work up a better portfolio before trying to catch on somewhere else." Nicole nursed her glass of wine. She had the distinct impression that crossing her limit in this woman’s presence could be as bad as it would be interesting.
"Well, you’re still young. You’re what? Twenty-five?"
"Twenty-seven." Nicole corrected.
"That’s still young. You have plenty of time to make a reputation before you try to put it to use." Jenny’s brown eyes were warm. "I almost wish I would have taken my career a bit slower. I worked for a magazine right after college, but I got in a tight spot and had to bail. I went freelance after that. I blame the influences of travel magazines."
"I can relate to that. Mine was more public educational television and all those programs they showed us in school about Egypt and all those other places of international historical importance." Maybe it was Jenny’s influence, but Nicole attempted to put her education and vocabulary to use in their conversation. She did not want to sound as if she were a country bumpkin. She was far from being one, but she wanted to impress the other woman.
"It’s not easy you know." Jenny cautioned.
"Nothing worthwhile ever is, or so I’ve been told."
"So is everyone from here as well spoken as you are?"
"I wasn’t aware I was that well spoken." She felt the blush creep up her neck.
"Oh, you are as well spoken as you are attractive." Jenny sipped her brandy. "I didn’t make you uncomfortable did I?"
"I’m just not used to hearing compliments from people I barely know." Nicole stared at the table covering. She suddenly wondered if drinks with this woman were such a good idea.
"That’s a pity." Jenny seemed to sense that Nicole was uncomfortable with the conversation. She leaned back in her chair. "So what keeps you here in New Orleans?"
"I just moved back actually." Nicole was glad for the change in subjects. "My grandmother is ill, and since I had left my job, I moved back to help out."
"That’s admirable. It’s not the whole story, though is it? Let me guess. You’ve just gone through a nasty break up, had some sort of legal trouble or you were sleeping with your boss."
"No, I never slept with my boss." Nicole laughed at the very thought. "And I’ve never been in trouble with the law. Unless you count the occasional speeding ticket."
"I don’t think that counts. Now parking tickets will get you into lots of trouble." Jenny laughed. "So that leaves the break up story. It’s universal, I think."
"Especially in country songs." She agreed.
"So what did she do?"
"How did you know it was a she?" Nicole was amazed. She did not think she came off as being gay.
"You ping." Jenny answered simply. "I thought I read you right, and you just confirmed it."
"Ping?" It was a term she had never heard before.
"Yes ping. It’s a term my friends and I use. You know the concept of gaydar right?" When Nicole nodded she continued. "Well, one night we took the concept a bit farther. If the gaydar concept were set on a clock, then people would ping one way or the other. Straights beep on this side of twelve." She illustrated with a knife and her glass. "Bisexuals bleep on the middle between eleven and one, and gays ping on this side of twelve." She put her hand where two o’clock would be. "You ping, though quietly. I couldn’t tell at first."
"And you?" Nicole had never been good at classifying people in that manner. It was one reason why it took so long for Laurel to make her intentions clear.
"I ping." Jenny laughed. "You can’t tell can you?"
"No, I really can’t. I just assume everyone is straight unless they tell me otherwise, or they’re flaming."
"Then this break up, was she your first?"
"No."
"Oh, that would have explained it otherwise. Most new to this life can’t tell until they’ve been around the block a few times."
>
"I’ve only been around this one twice." She admitted with reluctance. Somewhere in her brain, an alarm was going off, but she ignored it for the moment. She knew that if she stayed things could get very interesting. She also sensed it was up to her if things were going to progress. She could not decide if she wanted to continue or not. "My ex-girlfriend was the one with all the experience."
"And that bothered you didn’t it?" Jenny asked. "Want another drink?"
"Yes, but just the one more. I do need to think about getting home soon." She left an easy way out of the situation. "And yes it did bother me, I guess."
"Been there." Jenny stood. "I’ll get this round. I’ll be right back."
Nicole watched her leave. She had to admit that she was attracted to the freelance photographer. It was a relatively new experience. There were not many people Nicole really felt attracted to. For her it was always more than physical. There was something about Jenny that tugged at the edges of her brain. There was an instant connection there that bothered her. It had been the same with Annie. However, the connection with Laurel tugged at her soul as well as her heart and mind. The bassist had a way of looking at her that made Nicole feel ready to melt. There was no comparison. As fun as it would be to spend a few hours in sated bliss with Jenny, Nicole was not ready for it, or was she? Would she regret throwing caution to the wind for the first time in her life and having casual sex?
"You seem to be lost in thought. Was it an interesting trip inside?" Jenny teased as she handed Nicole another glass of wine.
"Yes it was. I seem to be making a lot trips inside lately, but not all of them have been this interesting." Nicole answered honestly.
"Ah, you’re wondering if you should join me upstairs or not?"
"Were you going to ask me?"
"I think I’d be incredibly stupid if I did not." Jenny smiled. "You still love her don’t you?"
"I’ll never love anyone else." Nicole took a large drink of her wine. "And yes, I was wondering."
"Well, I can make you this promise. Love will not enter into it, unless you count the love of another woman in your bed." Jenny sat her drink down on the table and covered Nicole’s hand with hers. "Nicole, you are a very attractive woman. I would be a classic idiot for not telling you I find you very desirable, intelligent, and well spoken. I’m leaving tomorrow. I don’t normally pick up women when I travel, but something about you intrigues me. I think you feel it too, or you wouldn’t have accepted my invitation for drinks."
All That Jazz Page 20