CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“Oh, New Orleans,” smiled Archie as he walked out of his Bourbon Street hotel. Women everywhere in very little clothing, in spite of the cold temperatures. God, he loved this place.

He pulled the ball cap down over his eyes and walked slowly down the dark street. It was a Tuesday night, and there were hundreds of locals and tourists wandering in and out of the bars and strip clubs.

As much as he loved pussy, he wasn’t a fan of the strip clubs. You could look but couldn’t touch, and the reality was that most of the women didn’t do anything on the side. They stripped and went home. That was it.

What was giving him happy vibes right now was the food. He could smell the scents of fried oysters, shrimp, catfish, and crawfish. It was mixed with the piss and vomit of Bourbon Street, but it was there. He really wanted to go to one of the better-known restaurants, but that was a risk he couldn’t take right now.

Of course, the wine, beer, and liquor were flowing as well. This is what he missed. Partying until you were piss-ripping drunk, not remembering a thing the next day but knowing you had a good piece of ass because your dick had bruises on it from her sucking.

Yeah, he’d get some tonight and have a little extra fun. Khloe was close. He could feel it, and he was going to teach her some manners. He didn’t even give a shit about her clearing his name any longer.

His father was right about one thing. He’d need to head to Mexico and change his features. Once he did that, he could come back and start an entirely new life. After all, money could buy anything and anyone.

Turning to his right, he saw the line for the famous Pat O’Brien’s hurricanes. The sugary, sickly sweet drinks were notorious for getting more than a few college kids so drunk they were puking red, orange, and yellow for days. Four ounces of rum, passion fruit juice, orange juice, lime juice, simple syrup, grenadine, and orange and cherry slices just for good measure. All mixed together.

Of course, Pat O’s had to do it differently. It was their patented drink mix with the four ounces of rum and fruit slices. He remembered puking it up more than once in his youth. Three cute college girls were standing in the cold, short on brains and material for their skirts. But damn, they had some fine asses, and he wondered if they would be down for a little party.

“Ladies, you look beautiful tonight,” he smiled.

“We’re fucking freezing,” said one of the girls.

“It’s cold, for sure. I’ve got a beautiful suite at the hotel down the street. Care to have a little party, just the four of us?” he asked.

The girls looked at one another skeptically, one of them shaking her head at her friends. The other two girls appeared to be interested, and he pushed a little more.

“Listen, we’ll order some room service, make our own hurricanes, anything you girls want. No expectations,” he said, raising his hands.

“He’s old but kind of cute,” said the girl. He laughed, shaking his head, but secretly pissed at the comment.

“Are you gonna want to fuck all three of us?” asked the other girl.

“Any man would want to fuck all three of you,” he said, smiling. “But it’s up to you. We do what you want, but at least we’ll be in the warmth of my room and enjoying movies, good food, alcohol, and quite possibly great sex together.”

“I think we should go,” said one of the girls. “It’s freezing out here, and I don’t have a coat. You said we’d get into Pat O’s.”

“I didn’t know our IDs wouldn’t work,” whispered the other girl.

“Just how old are you?” he asked. They looked at each other, then back at him. He could tell that they wanted to lie. The truth was, as long as they were over eighteen, he didn’t give a shit how old they were.

“We’re all nineteen,” said the girl.

“So, you couldn’t buy the drinks yourself, right?” he smirked. They stared down at their bare legs, and he knew what their little game was. “Hey, listen. I’m obviously over twenty-one. I’ll buy the drinks, and we have some fun. Seems like a fair trade, don’t you think?”

“I want to go with him,” said one of the girls. “I’m April.”

“April, pretty name for a pretty girl,” he grinned. “What about you?”

“I’m in. Anything to get out of this fucking cold,” she said, shivering. He removed his jacket, placing it around her shoulders, and she wrapped herself in its warmth. “Thank you. I’m Tara.”

“April, Tara,” he smirked. “What about you, sweet thing? Are you coming?”

The third young girl stared at him a moment, then back at her friends. Shaking her head, she looked at her friends.

“I’m going back to the car. I’ll sleep there and wait for you guys in the morning,” she said. “Don’t forget I have to have the car back by noon.”

“Let’s go, ladies. Your friend is missing out, but we’ll have a great time. Warm, good food, great booze, and if we’re lucky, a really good night.”

The third young girl watched as her friends walked away. April and Tara were never very smart about who they walked off with. She knew enough that the guy was way too old for them, and he wanted more than ‘just’ sex. He wanted kinky, crazy sex. She could tell.

With nothing more to do but find a warm place for a while, she stepped inside a burger joint that would be open until three, hoping her friends might change their minds. They were all able to track one another’s phones and she hoped they would find her sooner rather than later and want to go home.

With her fill of burgers, fries, and soda, the manager walked up to her.

“Sorry, honey, but I gotta close now,” she said. “You got a place to go?”

“Yes, ma’am. I was just hoping my friends would come back before I had to leave,” she said with a sad face. She stood and gathered what was left of her meals, shoving them in a paper bag. The manager came back and handed her another bag.

“Here’s some more fries, baby. I’d be throwin’ ‘em out anyway.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at the woman. Turning, the manager grabbed the remote to turn the television off. “Wait!”

“What’s wrong?” asked the woman.

“That man. That man is the one that took my friends!”