Chapter 14 Luke
LUKE
The music hit like a tidal wave as soon as we turned the corner. Brass instruments wailed, drums thumped, and the unmistakable hum of a crowd in sync with the beat filled the air.
I hesitated, glancing around at the revelers. People of all ages were moving to the music, some with umbrellas spinning in the air, while others waved handkerchiefs in time with the music. They weren’t coordinated, but it was messy and alive and completely unselfconscious.
Anna walked next to me, her step light and confident, like she belonged here. She was completely at ease. I, on the other hand, felt like a cat dropped into a dog park.
“What is this?” I dodged a kid with a balloon who nearly barreled into me.
She turned to me, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “It’s a second-line parade.”
“A second... what?” I scanned the scene like it might somehow explain itself.
Anna stopped and turned to face me, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the music.
“It’s a New Orleans thing. The brass band up front is the first line, and everyone who joins in behind them is the second line.
It’s a celebration of life. You don’t need a reason to join. You follow the music and let go.”
The heat of her proximity made my pulse quicken. I frowned, trying to focus. “Let go of what?”
She laughed, and the sound was low and intimate despite the chaos around us. “Whatever’s holding you back.”
The crowd thickened as we moved closer to the band, and I instinctively glanced over my shoulder. Hal and Tom weren’t far, keeping their distance but clearly on high alert. They were dressed to blend in and tried to remain inconspicuous as they scanned the crowd for threats.
Anna pressed closer as someone jostled past us, her shoulder against mine, her hip bumping my thigh. She handed me a handkerchief. Her fingers grazed my palm as I took it, and our eyes locked for a beat longer than necessary. “Here. You wave this while you dance.”
I glanced around, my hand tightening on the handkerchief she’d handed me. “I’m not exactly known for my rhythm. And I’m worried someone might recognize me. I mean, this crowd…”
“No one’s looking at you,” she interrupted, stepping close until I could feel the heat radiating from her body. “Here, no one’s concerned with anyone else. They’re too busy living in the moment.”
I scanned the mass of people dancing, laughing, and cheering around us. A man spun an umbrella in time with the music, kids darted between his legs, waving tiny handkerchiefs, and an older woman twirled with surprising energy. None of them even peeked in my direction.
“You’re serious?”
“Completely.” Anna stepped closer still, close enough that her chest nearly brushed mine when she breathed. “You’re just another face in the crowd here: no cameras, no headlines, no expectations. Just let go. I promise, no one’s judging you.”
I let her words sink in, looking around again. She was right. No one cared who I was or what I was doing. They were all too wrapped up in the music, the energy, the moment.
“Wave the handkerchief,” Anna added with a playful nudge. “Move your feet.”
I huffed a laugh, the tension easing just slightly.
“Fine.” I raised the handkerchief tentatively, then swung it in time with the music.
It felt ridiculous at first, like I was a kid at a birthday party, but Anna’s cheers were oddly encouraging.
Slowly, I started to loosen up, moving my feet and trying to match the rhythm of the brass band.
Anna shot me a glance. “See? Not so bad.”
I grumbled something under my breath but couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at my lips. She was right. No one was watching, and I felt like I didn’t have to perform. I could just be.
The band surged forward, and the crowd pressed along with it, sweeping us into the flow. I followed Anna, trying not to bump into anyone, still gripping the handkerchief.
We stopped near the middle of the parade, where a group of kids twirled umbrellas and an older man spun a woman half his age in an elaborate dance move that had everyone cheering. The energy was infectious. Even I could feel its pull.
“Why New Orleans?” Anna asked suddenly, her tone light.
The question caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, out of all the places you could’ve gone, why here?”
I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “Let’s just say, people aren’t exactly thrilled to see my face right now.” Her eyebrows lifted, inviting me to continue. “I needed to lie low. And Topher offered me a place. End of story.”
She didn’t push. She just nodded and gestured at the scene around us. “Well, maybe this is exactly what you need.”
I hesitated before finally giving in, waving the handkerchief in time with the beat. Dancing without a care in the world—or trying to. “So, what about you?” I stepped a little closer to her. “You’re obviously passionate about New Orleans. Why don’t you write about it?”
Her smile froze, faltered, and then quickly shifted into something guarded. “That’s a loaded question,” she said lightly, but her voice had an edge to it.
“Is it?” I tilted my head at the color-drenched scene around us. “You say you’re never going to live anywhere else, and you talk about this place like it’s magic. Seems like it’d be a gold mine for a writer.”
Her laugh sounded forced. “Not everything’s as easy as it looks.”
Before I could push further, she spun away, waving her handkerchief as though the conversation hadn’t just shifted. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder. “The band’s moving. Don’t get left behind.”
I watched her for a moment. Clearly, I’d hit a nerve I hadn’t meant to. But she was already disappearing into the crowd, and I had no choice but to follow.
I caught up to her just as a woman near us twirled her umbrella with dramatic flair and called out, “Come on, handsome. Show us what you’ve got.”
Anna glanced back at me, her earlier tension replaced by a broad, genuine smile that seemed to light up the entire street. “See?” she said, her voice lilting over the music. “You’re almost blending in.”
“Almost?” I echoed, the beginnings of a grin tugging at my lips as I waved my handkerchief in an exaggerated flourish.
She smirked, tilting her head as if sizing me up. “You could use a little more hip action.”
"Hip action?" I attempted what I thought was a sway, moving my hips in what probably looked more like a broken washing machine than dancing.
Anna's hand flew to her mouth, but she couldn't contain the laugh that burst out. "Oh my gosh, no. Stop. You're going to hurt yourself." She stepped closer, and before I could protest, her hands were on my hips, guiding them in the actual rhythm. "Like this. Feel the beat, don't fight it."
The contact sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with the music. "I'm feeling something," I murmured, and she either didn't hear me or chose to ignore it.
"There," she said, stepping back to admire her work, though her cheeks looked slightly flushed. "That's almost acceptable."
"Almost?" I challenged, feeling emboldened.
"Watch this—I'm practically a local now.
" The band had shifted to something slower, more soulful—a trumpet crooning over a steady, hypnotic beat.
Anna swayed with it, and without thinking, I pulled her closer, attempting what I hoped looked like a proper dance move.
I went for a dip, like I'd seen in old movies. Somehow, miraculously, I didn't drop her.
"Practically a local," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper as I pulled her upright.
That's when I spotted a street photographer with a camera the size of a small cannon, swinging it in our direction. My instincts kicked in before my brain could catch up.
"Down!" I grabbed Anna's hand and pulled her behind a group of enthusiastic dancers waving oversized umbrellas.
"What are you—" she started, but I pressed a finger to my lips.
We crouched there, her shoulder pressed against mine, both of us trying not to laugh as we peered through the forest of legs and umbrellas. The photographer panned across the crowd, oblivious that I was hiding three feet away.
"This is ridiculous," Anna whispered, her breath warm against my ear. "The photographer's not from a tabloid. He's just from the local newspaper covering the parade. We look like we're in a spy movie."
"I'm trying to maintain a low profile," I whispered back.
"By army-crawling through a second-line parade?"
A kid with a balloon peered down at us curiously. I waved my handkerchief at him in what I hoped was a casual, "nothing to see here" gesture. He giggled and ran off.
"The photographer's gone," Anna said, pulling me up by the hand. Her eyes were bright with barely suppressed laughter. "You know, for someone trying not to draw attention, you're doing a terrible job."
The band suddenly launched into something fast, energetic, all horns and drums demanding movement.
The crowd erupted with fresh enthusiasm, and Anna turned toward it like a flower to the sun.
She spun her handkerchief with abandon, her laughter spilling out like a melody of its own, completely unselfconscious.
I stood there watching her, this woman who moved through the chaos like she was part of it, like she and the city spoke the same language. In this place, there were no scripts, no lines to memorize. Just life, messy and vibrant. Maybe that's why I was here. Not to escape my life but to reinvent it.