Free Peggy Holloway - Judith McCain 01 - Blood on White Wicker by Peggy Holloway

drinks. Of course, you can’t serve drinks yet, but tomorrow, you need to go down and apply for an AB card. That’s an alcohol and beverage card. It’s a license. They’ll take your fingerprints, and you’ll have to show some ID showing you’re eighteen. But if you don’t have a record, you should be okay.”
    I felt so disappointed. I knew there was no way in hell to get that AB card. I don’t know how I thought I was going to get a job. I decided to finish out the job for tonight and then try to figure out what to do next. Maybe Rosa could help me.
    “Rosa, I appreciate you letting me spend the night tonight, but I’m not going to be able to keep this job,” I said as we got into her Volkswagen Rabbit at 4 a.m.
    She looked over at me and shrugged her shoulders. “What are you talking about? You were terrific. Frank thought you were adorable. He told me so. What’s the problem?”
    I glanced out the window and noticed we were going toward the street where the apartment complex was where I had slept in the parking lot in the stolen car. Then we actually did turn down Houma. I decided to tell her the truth.
    “The cops can’t find me right now. I have a record. And I’m only sixteen.”
    She blew out a long breath, reached around for the long braid and pulled it over her shoulder and started flipping with her finger. I learned later on that that was what she did when she was thinking.
    “Oh, boy, you really are sixteen. I just thought you looked young for your age. Let’s think about this for a minute. Frank has taken on some girls who just danced and didn’t serve liquor. You wouldn’t make as much, but you wouldn’t have to worry about getting an AB card. The other part…there’s no getting around it. We’re going to have to get you some false ID.”
    My mouth fell open. I had seen stuff like this in movies, but I had never really met anyone who could do it. Well, maybe Dave could have.
    “You know how to do that?” I asked.
    “No, I don’t, but I know someone who can. We’re going to be going to the French Quarter today after we sleep some. While we’re down there, I’ll see this person. You’ll have to go have a cup of coffee or something, because he doesn’t know you, and he won’t trust you.
    “The only problem that I can see is that you’ll need a lot of money. He’s good, but he charges through the nose. And I speak from experience. You have any money besides what you made in tips last night? How much did you make anyway?”
    I began pulling wadded-up bills from my jeans pocket. I counted them as I straightened them out.
    “There’s three hundred and seventeen here,” I said.
    “Whoa, that’s more than I ever made in one night. I take it back. Maybe you will make as much not selling drinks,” she said as she pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex.
    The buildings had two floors and were built around a beautiful courtyard with lush vegetation and a pool in the middle. The buildings were pink, trimmed in white.
    When she saw me looking at the pool, she said, “Oh, that reminds me. I told Frank that you were going to be staying with me, and he told me to see that you worked on your tan. So we’ll have to try to work in some pool time today. We’re going to have a very busy day.”
    Her apartment was a cute little townhouse with a bedroom and bath upstairs and a kitchen, living room, and half-bath downstairs. She had fixed it up in earth tones with vases of dried weeds spread everywhere. She had a big king-sized bed, and I slept with her, but still felt like I was sleeping alone. We didn’t talk much after we climbed in the bed around five in the morning. We slept until two in the afternoon. I slept like a log and didn’t have the dream.
    After we got ready to go, Rosa asked me if I would like to get coffee and beignets in the French Market while we were down there. I agreed since that was one of my favorite things to eat, and I had missed having the chicory