Free One Hundred Saints by Yolanda Olson

We’re here for to find a sexy local man too, and I think we found him, didn’t we girls?” she asked, lust taking hazing over her drunken eyes.
    Please don’t touch me.
    “Know anyone interested in a good time?” she purred, stepping closer. My instinct told me to take a step back, but I needed her and two of her friends.
    “I might.”
    “Where are you staying?” she asked.
    Is this really going to be this easy?
    “I don’t live around here. But I can take you back to my place if you’d like to see what New Orleans really looks like,” I replied coyly.
    “I’m game,” she replied happily. “You girls wanna see where Kemper lives?” she asked her friends.
    One of her friends, who wasn’t as intoxicated as the rest of them, was eyeing me wearily. I let my eyes meet hers and she ended up looking away.
    “I’m gonna go finish the bar crawl,” she said quietly.
    No you’re not, I thought evenly.
    “Come on, it’ll be fun. I promise I’m harmless and I’ll have you back in time for the parade. Besides, Larissa wants to have a good time,” I said, nodding at her. She was wavering on her feet at this point and I wondered how much longer I had before she would either pass out or change her mind.
    “Tell you what,” I said, as she looked me up and down again, “I’ve got some moonshine at home that I just dug up a few days ago. You girls can come over and drink while I give Larissa what she obviously came for and then I’ll bring you all back.”
    “I don’t know,” she said cautiously.
    “You girls into magic, by any chance?” I asked suddenly.
    “Like voodoo?” she asked, her eyes becoming wide.
    “How about I show you what an authentic ceremony looks like after I’m done with Larissa? It’ll be ... educational. And free.”
    The four of Larissa’s friends put their heads together. They were obviously concocting a plan in case something went wrong, but this wouldn’t be the first time that I had dealt with more than one martyr.
    “Deal,” she finally agreed, once they broke out of their huddle.
    “What’s your name?” I asked her, the smile on my face widening slightly.
    “Reagan,” she replied, holding out her hand.
    I took her hand against my better judgment, and shook it firmly. I had to gain her trust though, and I knew it was the cordial thing to do. Not taking her hand would have sent up more red flags than she was already fielding and I couldn’t have that.
    “It’s nice to meet you girls,” I said, when we let each other go. “Follow me; it’s a bit of a walk, but I guarantee it’ll be worth it.”
    And Reagan will go into the fire first.

Fourteen
    Emmie
    G rimm didn’t know, but I had been watching him from the balcony outside my room. He was easy to spot in the growing crowd of people, because of the way his white shirt hung open, the tattoos that lined his arms, and how he trudged unhappily along. Nothing of what he had been doing bothered me until I saw him stop to talk to that group of drunken college girls. What really hurt my feelings was when I saw them walk out of sight with him, when he couldn’t find time for his childhood best friend.
    I did what any normal, concerned friend would do. I followed them away from the French Quarter, past the Old Algiers, and into a part of New Orleans that he had always forbid me from going to.
    But today was going to be different, I was going to follow them and see what it was that he was trying to hide from me. I liked to believe that he wouldn’t touch those girls; not in that way, but I only knew the boy version of him and still had to learn about the man he had turned into. I couldn’t help but think that he was hiding something from me. Little things like steering me away from the crazy lady that owned the voodoo shop, and telling me to leave Louisiana, just threw up red flags all over the place for me.
    Should I have cared that everything inside of me was screaming at me to leave it alone? I would imagine so; but