chapter Five
EVERYBODY HATES A DRUNKEN BIRD
KATIE didn’t know what was weirding her out the most—that she was a vampire or that she was potentially married to Cort, or that she was trying to find out what happened last night based on the comments of a talking parrot.
She knew being a vampire should win, hands down. Vampires really existed, and she was one of them. That should be a totally astonishing and scary realization—but for some reason, it really wasn’t.
She had to be in shock or something. She was a vampire. A real, live—wait, was she alive still? Maybe she was dead. Okay, she could admit that was a weird concept, but for some reason the whole idea of being married to Cort was the thing foremost on her mind.
How was she supposed to process all of this, period? She certainly couldn’t process it all at once, that was for sure. She needed time to think. She needed . . .
“I need a drink.”
Cort stopped his determined stride, turning to look at her. The parrot fluttered its wings at the sudden stop. Both man and bird studied her for a moment.
“Are you alright?”
“What do you think?”
“Katie,” he said, taking a step toward her, but she backed away. She didn’t want him too close to her. Not right now. She knew full well that his nearness would just serve to confuse her more.
Of course that wasn’t a new sensation. She was very accustomed to that particular feeling. She’d been experiencing it since the very first time she’d met him.
She’d just finished the last set of the day with her zydeco band, Beau and the Bayou Band, and she’d decided to stay for a drink with her favorite bartender, Jacob. A usual day on Bourbon. Until Berto Cortez had walked into the Old Opera House, tall and lean and mussed in a perfectly sexy way. She’d been instantly attracted to his swarthy, Mediterranean good looks and charming smile. But she’d especially loved his dark eyes that managed to look sleepy and intense all at once. He’d strolled up to the bar and introduced himself to her and Jacob, telling them that he was the new lead singer of The Impalers and to call him Cort.
From that very first meeting, she had been in serious lust with him, even though she never acted on her feelings. For the last three years, they’d talked only on an amicable level, two musicians working on Bourbon Street at the same bar. Never had Cort been anything but polite and friendly, no signs of attraction. Certainly no signs of lust.
And now they might be married. She might be married to Cort the vampire. And she was a vampire herself. This was nuts.
“A drink is probably a good idea, actually. A little hair of the dog,” Cort said, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she looked like she needed it, or because he himself did. Not that it much mattered, she just wanted some time to process what she knew before they found out anything more.
Katie knew she was a happy, sensible person. She also knew people considered her a good girl. Not prone to drama, or excitement of any kind, really. Downright boring, some might say. In fact, she’d always hated the lack of excitement in her life. That’s why she’d left her dull, small-town existence to play in a zydeco band in New Orleans. Wild, decadent, dangerous New Orleans. But even with this big move, she’d still managed to have a pretty humdrum existence.
Until now. Now she’d managed to find excitement in spades.
Maybe she didn’t really want excitement after all. But she did want that drink.
“Let’s go here,” Cort said, pointing to a small bar across the street.
In all her time living in the Quarter, she couldn’t recall ever noticing this place, not that she cared where they went as long as she could get a very, very stiff vodka and tonic with extra lime.
They walked up a couple of dirty, concrete steps and through the open door of the small, dimly lit room. A few patrons were scattered along a glossy wooden bar, each of them seeming to be there alone, focused on their drinks rather than finding companionship.
That worked for her. Katie walked to the end of the bar and slid onto one of the wooden stools. Cort took a seat beside her, his shoulder brushing hers briefly as he situated himself.
The parrot hopped down from his shoulder to his forearm, then down the bar, waddling a few steps, before whistling loudly.
The bartender looked in their direction instantly.
“Jack and Coke. Jack and Coke,” the bird chanted in its strange voice as the man approached.
“Well, the bird certainly knows how to get service,” Cort said, shaking his head.
Katie probably would have been amused on any other day, but all she cared about at the moment was ordering her own drink and trying to understand what was happening to her.
“Grey Goose and tonic. With extra lime,” she told the bartender. “Actually make that a double. Please.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Cort raise an eyebrow, but then he said, “I’ll have the same.”
“And the bird?” the bartender asked, eyeing the parrot dubiously.
“You heard him,” Cort said. “Jack and Coke.”
“Jack and Coke,” the bird repeated.
The bartender shrugged as if that was a fairly reasonable request and left to fix their drinks. As soon as he was out of earshot, Cort turned toward Katie.
“I think we need to talk, don’t you?”
She didn’t answer, not even sure where to start. Instead, she studied the gold band on her finger. This was just way too freaking surreal.
“Come on, Katie. Talk to me. What are you thinking?”
She decided to just go with the truth. “I don’t even know where to start.”
Cort chuckled, although she could tell it was more out of awkwardness than actual amusement. “I have to agree with you on that one.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment more, trying to decide which of the zillion questions whirring in her head was the most important.
She sucked in a calming breath, then met Cort’s gaze directly.
He watched her with those sleepy, sexy eyes of his, and for a moment, she was lost.
God, what a cliché. What was her damned problem? She had just found out some of the strangest, most traumatic, and frankly most insane things she could imagine, and yet she still managed to find herself distracted by his gorgeous eyes.
Wait. He was a vampire. Didn’t vampires control people with their gazes? Hypnotized them or something? Was that what he’d been doing to her? Was he doing it now?
“Stop it!”
Cort looked around, clearly figuring she must be talking to someone else. When he realized no one else was around, aside from the bird, which stared at them with beady eyes while bobbing his head, Cort’s gaze locked with hers again.
Her insides leapt. He was doing something.
“Stop doing that with your eyes.”
“Doing what?”
“Making them look that way. Hypnotizing me, or whatever your kind does,” she said.
“What? I’m not doing anything. These are just my eyes.”
She opened her mouth to tell him that couldn’t possibly be true, that no regular gaze could affect her so, but before she could get the words out, the bartender returned with their drinks. They all, bird included, reached for their drinks, but before Katie or Cort could even get the glasses to their lips, someone shouted behind them.
“You two!”
Both of them turned to see who this man was yelling at.
A short, stocky man with chest hair curling out from the collar of his silky shirt barged toward them. And he was clearly not happy.
“I thought I told you two that I did not want you or that damned bird back in my bar,” the man yelled, his voice thick with a Cajun accent.
Cort immediately stood, towering over the other man, but that didn’t seem to intimidate the short guy.
“Listen, buddy, I’ve never even been in here . . .” Cort stopped. “Wait, we were here last night?”
“That’s what I said. And you will never be here again. Go.” The man gestured wildly toward the door, revealing sweat stains under his arms despite the cool weather. “And take that evil creature. Now.”
The parrot squawked loudly in seeming protest.
Cort still didn’t move, except to shoot the bird a warning look. The parrot returned its attention back to its drink, pecking at one of the ice cubes.
“Listen,” Cort said, his voice calm and even, “I’m sorry about whatever happened last night, but we honestly don’t remember it. Could you tell us what happened? Please.”
The man’s angry grimace didn’t ease at Cort’s remorseful apology. “My wife sure as hell won’t ever forget what happened.”
Just then, as if his words had conjured her, a woman, a very, very buxom woman with platinum blonde hair, appeared from behind the bar. Heavy gold jewelry adorned her ears, wrists, and cleavage.
“What are they doing back here?” she demanded in a voice that could only be described as grating. This was clearly the wife in question.
The garish woman stopped short and gave a sharp scream as she saw the parrot, which seemed oblivious to the reaction it was getting. It again poked at the ice cubes in its cocktail.
“We’re really sorry, ma’am,” Cort attempted again with an apology, but he got even less chance than he did with the husband.
“Get that thing out of here. Leave! Leave now!” she cried.
As if the bird understood, it stopped and turned toward the screeching woman. It began to waddle toward the couple in what Katie could swear was meant to be an intimidating swagger.
The woman squealed again and leapt behind her husband, her hands going protectively to her ample bosom.
“Trosclair, make them leave!”
The man pointed at the door again, and this time Katie caught a whiff of his armpits even though he wasn’t close to her. Sweaty old onions. That was definitely the odor.
She grimaced. Apparently vampires did have a heightened sense of smell. Ick.
“We will go,” Cort said, raising his hands in surrender. Whether because of their demands or because of the smell, Katie wasn’t sure.
“We just wanted to know what happened,” Cort said even as he reached for the bird.
The parrot attempted to peck Cort, clearly not pleased to be taken away from his drink, but it did hop onto his arm and crawl up the sleeve of his black shirt back to his shoulder.
“It’s not our job to remind drunks what they did,” the man known as Trosclair said, positioning himself so he could herd both Cort and Katie out of the bar.
They both headed toward the door with Trosclair and his wife following, still pressed to him.
Once they reached the street, the barkeeps stopped in the doorway.
“Don’t come back,” Trosclair repeated.
“We won’t,” Cort assured them. “But really, all we want to know is what happened.”
“Well, I’ll tell you this much, jokester,” Trosclair said in his thick accent. “You should be ashamed of teaching your pet to expose a woman’s breast like that.”
The wife nodded adamantly, her hands still clutching her already half-exposed chest.
With those final words, both Trosclair and his wife disappeared back into the darkness of the bar.
“Jokester?” Cort said with a confused frown as if that label was the weirdest part of what just happened.
Katie stared at him for a moment, then actually found herself laughing, this time a genuine laugh rather than her earlier ones tinged with hysteria.
“I just hope it was the bird he was calling your pet and not me,” she said.
Cort smiled, too. Damn, he was so gorgeous.
Katie’s smile slipped and again her eyes glanced to the wedding band on her left hand.
He caught her action, his own smile fading. “I guess we should just head to the wedding chapel and see what we can find out there.”
Katie nodded. She still had lots of questions, but maybe it was best to find out about the rings first.
They started walking down the cracked, stained sidewalk.
After a few moments, Katie said, “So who do you think was more traumatized by exposing that woman’s breasts, the woman or the parrot?”
Cort’s surprised laugh warmed Katie.
“I think that one might be a draw.”
“Jack and Coke,” the parrot cawed. “Jack and Coke.”
Katie laughed, too.