Prologue

Mardi Gras

Bourbon Street, New Orleans

" Y ou're going tonight, right?" I should have never called Annie.

My best friend is my biggest cheerleader, but she's like a bloodhound when it comes to encouraging me to meet my goals. That's why I tell her my crazy ideas.

She keeps me accountable.

It's how I made it through my adult years. I'd be lost without her. But right now, as I stare outside my window, my grand plan of approaching a bar owner for an internship on the busiest night in New Orleans seems a little crazy.

Initially, I figured he'd just say yes to get rid of me. But now?

"I'm not sure this is a good idea, Annie." I bite my nails as I look at myself in the mirror.

You can take the girl out of Dutch Pennsylvania, but the beliefs of the Amish? Not so much. I may not live as I once did, but some of the core values, like how to dress, are really hard to break, no matter how long it's been.

"What are you wearing?" How does she do that?

"Don't make me search my room for cameras again." Her snort of laughter annoys me.

"I'm in a dress?" I don't mean for it to come out as a question, but our opinions on the subject differ so vastly that I'm not sure what she'll think.

"Describe it," I roll my eyes at her tone.

"Yes, Mom." I take a deep breath.

"Ew, don't compare me to that bitch." I ignore her and start to describe the pattern.

"You're being obtuse, Leah. How long is it? Can you even see your knees? How about the color? So help me if you say gray," I cut her off to save my eardrum from the shrill octave her voice is reaching.

"It's blue, and you can see my ankles." Annie sighs.

"Leah, you are going to be walking around half-naked women. It's ok to show a little thigh. Change, now." I glance out my window and see proof that she's right.

A group of girls younger than me flashed anyone who would throw beads at them.

"Fine, but under protest. What should I wear?" I walk to my closet as I wait for her to speak again.

"Hang on. I need to shave before my date. We can get ready together." I listen as she starts the water in her tub.

"Date?" Annie is a serial romantic and is always looking for ‘The One.'

Unfortunately for her, she seems to be the magnet for every bad boy loser within a three-state radius.

"I swear I found him this time. He's perfect, Leah," I tune her out as I put my phone on speaker and pull out the skirt she gave me last Christmas.

It's long and flowy but thin, which is great in this heat. It's also damn near sheer. I pull the dress I have on off and step into the lightweight material. I pull the zipper on my hip up and smooth the fabric down over my lower belly.

"Are you even listening?" Annie huffs, and I smile.

"I always listen. He's perfect, single, and has great hair. He's over six feet, earns six figures, and tonight you'll find out if he's got your six or more inches." I giggle like a fucking schoolgirl after repeating her words.

"Most importantly, his background check is clean!" I roll my eyes as I search for a top to wear and find a modest off-the-shoulder knit sweater I snagged at a thrift shop.

I put on a camisole to give the illusion that I'm dressed like a lady instead of the Jezebel I feel like in this outfit.

"Alright, I changed." I sigh as I slip my feet into a pair of flats.

"Pics or it didn't happen." I stop short and spin back around towards my full-length mirror.

"Fine, but if I don't leave now, I'm going to chicken out." I snap the photo and send it.

Grabbing my keys, I pin the phone to my shoulder and lock my apartment before skipping down the steps and basically running into the crowd on the street.

"Wow, it's fucking loud." Annie's voice is getting harder to hear as I make my way to Royal Street.

"Sorry, the party is in full swing." The music grows as I near a jazz band on the corner.

"OH MY GOD! HELP!" Annie's scream stops me cold in the middle of the street.

"Watch it, lady!" I ignore everyone and everything as I cover my other ear and strain to hear Annie.

"What's the matter now?" I'm used to her dramatics, but she sounds desperate.

"I found a gray hair." Her sobs fill my ears.

For fucks sake.

"Pluck it." I'm annoyed as I start walking again.

She's going to cry wolf one too many times, and no one will come to her aid.

"Are you crazy? Two more will come back." I slow down as I get closer to my destination.

"I'm busy, Annie." I need to cut her off before I lose my nerve.

"My entire life is changing, and now you're busy?" I can't deal with her right now.

I can see the door to Spirits Distillery & Alehouse.

"It's one gray hair, for Christ's sake." I stop and lean up against the building across the street and watch the bartender through the open doorway.

There he is. Fabien Fukuma my future boss. Or so I hope. My degree depends on it. When I first moved to New Orleans, I had one goal: to find the most outgoing, influential man in the city. After three months of asking around, he is the number one answer.

"It's a pub! What the fuck does that mean that my first gray hair is on my vag? Is she used up? Do I need to retire her? Does my cunt get AARP now?" Did she really just say that?

"Jesus, stop being so damn dramatic and get waxed. Problem solved." I glance around me to make sure no one overheard my insane best friend.

"I think she has wrinkles now, too. Should I get Botox?" That's it.

"GOODBYE, Annie." I hang up on her and take a deep breath.

It's now or never.