Free 04 Lowcountry Bordello by Susan M. Boyer Page B

slipped an amplifier in my right ear and grabbed the binoculars.
    Moments later, a black limousine negotiated the turn onto lower Church Street. It crawled down the narrow brick lane, with the right-side wheels on the sidewalk at times in order to pass a parked car. It stopped in front of the driveway at 12 Church Street. The driver stepped out. He was a portly gentleman with white hair and a beard, who looked remarkably like Santa Claus in a black suit and chauffer’s cap. He opened the left passenger door, and Olivia the party girl emerged holding a champagne bottle in one hand and a bouquet of champagne flutes in the other, her keys dangling from a finger.
    “Thank you, Santa Baby,” she cooed at the driver. “I’ll be right back with my friends.”
    “Yes ma’am.” He nodded and took in the rearview as Olivia sashayed down the sidewalk in a red dress and heels.
    Just before she reached the door, Nate, who was walking in the opposite direction, bumped into her.
    Olivia stumbled and squealed.
    The driver’s nose lifted, like a hound sniffing the breeze. He took a step in Olivia’s direction.
    Nate grabbed her shoulders and steadied her. “Pardon me, ma’am.”
    In her outside voice, she said, “That’s quite all right, handsome. Why don’t you come along with us? I’m just going inside to get my friends. We’re going to have a Christmas party. We have the limo for the whole day.”
    The driver returned to an at-ease position by the car door.
    Nate let go of Olivia’s left shoulder, then her right. Only because I knew what was happening and had the benefit of binoculars, I saw him slip her keys out of her fingers. “Thank you, ma’am. I’d better not. My wife’s expecting me.”
    “That’s too bad.” Olivia pouted, playing it up.
    Nate nodded goodbye and continued down the street.
    Olivia stepped in front of the door. “Aunt Dean? Aaaa-unt Deeeean . My hands are full. Can you open the door?”
    In the background, I heard steps on the porch. Moments later, the front door opened and Miss Dean appeared. “Lord a mercy, Olivia. What’s all this noise?”
    Though the whole scene was being videoed, I snapped a few stills of Miss Dean.
    “My hands are full. Are you ready?” Olivia turned and called to the driver. “Hey, Santa Baby, can you pop this cork?”
    He rushed over. “Yes, ma’am.”
    She handed him the bottle. “Is everyone ready?”
    “I suppose we are,” said Miss Dean. “I declare, Olivia, this is mighty generous of you, but a little more notice would’ve worked out much better.”
    “Now, Aunt Dean. That would’ve spoiled the surprise.” Olivia held her left hand out towards the driver. He took a flute and filled it.
    “Well, I suppose.” Miss Dean stepped onto the sidewalk.
    Sounds of heels on wood and women chattering drifted across the street.
    The driver passed the glass to Miss Dean, then took another flute and filled it for Olivia.
    A stunning redhead, who might’ve approached six feet tall even without the five-inch gladiator heels, appeared in the doorway. I snapped a few photos with the Canon. Her black slim-fit slacks, lace camisole, and black jacket suggested Forever 21.
    Miss Dean said, “Olivia, I’m not sure you’ve met Lori. She’s only moved in recently. Lori Russell, this is my niece, Olivia.”
    I opened the Voice Memos app. “Tall redhead. Lori Russell.”
    “It’s lovely to meet you,” Olivia said.
    “Likewise.” Lori’s small voice didn’t match her bold appearance.
    The driver, who had the routine down now, handed Lori a champagne glass.
    Miss Dean turned towards the door just as a black-haired girl with pale skin stepped out. “Olivia, you remember Amber.”
    “Of course. Hey, Amber!” Olivia hugged her like they were long-lost sorority sisters.
    I snapped a photo of the odd look on Amber’s face and recorded her name and description.
    A brunette and a blonde joined the group. Miss Dean announced Dana and Heather as if they were being