1. Chapter One
Chapter One
Justin Watkins
“I came here for the food, local ambiance, and to hang out with you. I absolutely did not come here for that crap. I refuse to go inside. Have you lost your mind?” I asked my best friend and co-worker, Eve Murray.
“You are a stick in the mud, Justin Lee Watkins. It’s your twenty-fourth birthday, and we came on this trip to have fun, which seems to be something you’re allergic to.
Now, come on. I made the appointment and paid for the time.
You’re going inside.” Eve stomped her size-six foot, not that it made much impact.
We were in New Orleans, Louisiana. It was only my second trip to the city, and I was ready to let the good times roll, as had been touted during the tourism commercial Eve and I saw while watching an award show in June.
That’s when Eve came up with the idea of celebrating my twenty-fourth birthday in The Big Easy.
Going to see a fortune teller—or medium as the sign read—wasn’t on my Bingo card for the year.
Eve had alleged it was my birthday present, but it wasn’t my idea of having a good time.
The reason behind said gift? That was even more disturbing.
I, Justin Lee Watkins, was in competition to become the world’s oldest virgin.
At least, that’s what Eve always said. Trust me, it wasn’t a title I actively sought.
I was an introverted nerd, and when I met a guy—and thanks to Eve’s vivacious personality, I met a lot of them—I clammed up, stuttered, and usually hid in the stall of the men’s room of whatever bar, club, or grocery store we happened to be in.
“What the hell is this supposed to prove? Huh? No. I’m not going inside.” I pointed to the hokey looking sign over the door, “Madame Stella is a grifter who takes advantage of anyone dumb enough to darken her door.”
“Oh, poo-poo. God, your parents did you no favors by homeschooling you, rest their souls. Didn’t they have public schools in your part of Missouri?” Eve leaned against the window, a stubborn glint in her eye.
She was one to talk! Eve grew up on a five-hundred-acre sod farm nestled at the base of the Ozark Mountains in Southwestern Missouri. Her hometown was called Pine. Not Pine Hill or Pine Bluff. Just Pine. At least Sweet Springs, where I grew up outside Kansas City, had a stoplight.
Eve released a frustrated, overly dramatic sigh. “Come on. Please? It’ll be fun. Herbst and his friends are meeting us here. Pleeease?”
I rolled my eyes. Tommy Herbst was Eve’s latest boyfriend.
He had played football at our alma mater, University of Missouri-Columbia, and Eve had lusted over the dude all through college.
When he graduated, he was picked up by the USFL and currently playing for the NOLA Jazz.
During the short season, Eve worked from Herbst’s house on the outskirts of New Orleans, and in the off season, Herbst lived with her in Kansas City, which was next door to me and not my favorite thing in the world.
Raucous male laughter exploded nearby, and I turned to see Herbst with a few of his friends headed in our direction, one of which was Kirk Dunston, Herbst’s stunningly handsome agent.
What Kirk did for a third-rate quarterback playing in a league that had a ten-week season was beyond me. To each his own.
“Hey, baby.” Herbst greeted Eve before turning to me. “Bookie.” Herbst thought he was a comedian, the poor dumb jock.
The term, bookie, had a more salacious meaning that Herbst had yet to comprehend. He thought it meant someone who kept a company’s books, which wasn’t remotely close to what I did.
I specialized in financial planning, both personal and business.
I was new in the game, having only worked for two years at Korr Financial Services in Kansas City, Missouri, but after I sat for my upcoming certified financial planner—CFP—exam, I would be able to attract more business clients of my own, or so I hoped.
“Hello, Justin. Good to see you again.” Kirk extended his hand to shake mine like a civilized human. “These jokers are...” Kirk continued the introductions.
I stopped listening, simply enjoying the sight of his lips moving. I hoped I didn’t have that stupid dream again about Kirk sucking me off on the field of a football stadium full of people. I didn’t think I was an exhibitionist, but then again, I didn’t really know what or who I was sexually.
I shook the hands of the three guys with him, having no idea what their names were, nor did I care. I knew more people than I wanted to know. I didn’t need to know more.
“Happy birthday, Bookie.” Herbst stepped forward and picked me up, spinning me around, and dropping me, the big oaf. Thankfully, I caught myself before my ass hit the jagged concrete of the sidewalk.
Eve gave me an apologetic glance before she took Herbst’s hand. “We don’t want to be late, babe. Come on, Justin.”
Herbst opened the door and Eve pushed me inside, the rest of the crowd following like the lemmings I believed them to be.
“May I help you?” An attractive middle-aged white woman dressed in a Mrs. Roper-esque caftan with her strawberry-blonde dreadlocks piled high on her head and held in place by a colorful scarf greeted me.
I turned around and grabbed Eve’s arm. “You made the booking. You talk to the lady.”
She giggled, of course. “Hi. We have a seven o’clock appointment with Madame Stella. Murray, party of seven.”
Trepidation and embarrassment consumed me. Going to a voodoo priestess, or whatever she called herself, was such a bad idea. Like a marching band coming down Bourbon Street, my virginity was about to be trotted out for all my companions to witness.
Herbst was probably already aware of my virginal status but having Kirk Dunston know my truth would be an incredibly humiliating revelation, especially on my twenty-fourth birthday.
“Ah, yes. Y’all are here for the séance. Which one of ya is the birthday boy?” The woman looked at the other guys in our party before they parted like the Red Sea and there I was in the spotlight.
“Uh, yeah, that’s me.” Where had my professionalism gone?
“If y’all will follow me, I’ll take ya into the salon where Madame Stella communes with the spirit world.
” The woman picked up an odd glass incense burner that had smoke coming out of it and led the way to a curtained-off section toward the back of the shop.
There were all sorts of candles with religious pictures on the front.
A whole display case had statues and various other scary symbols.
Shelves were filled with different sizes and colors of drums, which I found very odd.
“What’s all this shit?” one of the three stooges behind me asked.
“Madame Stella is a practitioner of Santeria. Each color and object symbolizes...”
I tuned out the rest of it because that Sublime song popped into my head and the lyrics had me stifling a laugh as I turned to Eve, who wore a million-dollar smile. I rolled my eyes at everything in front of me.
It was all a bunch of crazy superstition. I wondered when Madame Stella was going to give us the speech: “For a hundred dollars more, I can contact [insert name of dead relative/friend/famous actor].”
We were taken through a brown door into a room with all sorts of colorful curtains on the walls draped with beads.
There were some of those religious candles lit around the room and placed dangerously close to the curtains for my taste.
In the center of the table was a lighted bowl where some sort of fog or smoke was rising from. Dry ice?
There were eight chairs around the table, one of which was occupied by a black woman who looked a lot like the white woman out front, down to the charms she had woven into her gray dreads.
They were living up to the stereotype firmly fixed in my brain of anyone who read tarot cards, claimed to be a psychic, or had any mystical powers of any sort.
It was early September in the south, so of course, the room felt as hot as the devil’s taint. I glanced around to see no fans or windows of any kind. God, with so many of us in the room, were we going to suck up all the oxygen and die? Happy birthday to me!
The canned lights dimmed overhead, and a dramatic spotlight shined up from the floor, putting Madame Stella’s face in shadow. “I am Madame Stella. Why have you sought my services today?”
All eyes turned to me. I crossed my arms and gave Eve a rude stare. “Nuh-uh. You booked it.”
Eve rolled her eyes. “It’s Justin’s birthday, and the best birthday present I could give him is a discussion with the world’s greatest lover, Ramon Blanco. Unfortunately, Ramon died—”
“There is no such thing as death. The spirit inside us leaves this plane and moves on.” Madame Stella’s voice was eerily deep all of a sudden.
“Okay, uh, Ramon’s spirit departed in 1996, but we’d like you to summon him so he can give my friend some tips to...”
Wait for it.
“Lose his virginity.”
Again, all eyes on me.
“Dude! You’ve never popped your cherry? Are you religious or something?” one of the stooges asked.
“Hell, why are we sitting here? Let’s find a bar and a backroom. We can get this done right now. A birthday pop!” another added.
Herbst smirked and shifted his gaze to me. “Is it true?”
I had a personal code of honesty. Liars were duplicitous, obviously, or why would they lie? They were untrustworthy in all aspects of their lives, and I wouldn’t abide a liar. So, throwing my own ego aside, I nodded.
“I thought she was being overly dramatic.” Herbst hitched his thumb at Eve, who had the God-given sense to look embarrassed. He then continued. “Are you straight or gay? Do you even know? I mean, if you’re not attracted to someone, then how do you know what you are?”
I definitely wasn’t dignifying his questions with a response.
Kirk, next to me on my left side, cleared his throat. “Not everyone embraces a label, Herbst. How sad you think there’s only two versions of sexuality in your black and white world.”
I laughed at his comment. Even Madame Stella fought to suppress a smile for a moment before she continued her spiel. “Everyone, close your eyes and join hands on top of the table to form a never-ending circle.”
Come on. Who hadn’t seen this movie? It starred Whoopie Goldburg, the late Patrick Swayze, and the fabulous Demi Moore.
Any minute now, the curtains would start to flutter, the candle flames would mysteriously flicker, and Madame Stella’s spotlight would go dark before her body slumped in the chair, only to snap upright and perhaps speak in tongues.
I wished I’d pulled my phone from the pocket of my cargo shorts before we were told to hold hands. The whole scene would have brought me hours of entertainment when I was feeling blue.
I opened my right eye and peeked, just as a breeze fluttered the fabric on the walls and made the candles around the room flicker.
“My spirit guide is here. Say the name of the spirit you seek.”
Why Benjamin Franklin’s name popped in my head was a mystery. My nerdiness knew no bounds. Franklin had his faults, but the guy had the distinction of being the first American celebrity.
Eve spoke up. “Ramon Blanco.”
“Let’s chant it together,” Madame Stella insisted.
Everyone joined her in the chant except me. I tried to pull my hand from Stooge One’s, but he had a pretty tight grip. Fucker.
I still had my right eye open when I saw the light go out under the table. Madame Stella stopped chanting. “He’s here. Ask your questions.”
Eve’s eyes opened and she made a gesture as though I should speak up. I had the feeling this was the end of a very beautiful friendship. I stubbornly shook my head and mouthed, no way.
“Uh, Mr. Blanco, can you give my bestie tips on how to make love? You see, he’s a virgin, and he’s really shy around people he doesn’t know well, especially outside a business setting.”
“God, let the floor open and swallow me.” Did I say that out loud?
“Mr. Blanco, do you have any tips for the young man?” Madame Stella repeated.
Suddenly, there was an electrical charge in the room. Lightning crashed outside, and the sounds of raindrops on the roof had all of us opening our eyes to glance around.
“Crap. I left the sunroof open on my truck.” It was Herbst who spoke first.
Shhh. Don’t get scared. I’m here to help you, not hurt you. I’ll help you, then you can help me.
I glanced around to see which of the brain trust had spoken, but all of them appeared spooked. I ripped my hands from my companions’ grips and stood. “Who said that?”
Everyone turned to stare at me. Finally, Eve said, “Who said what?”
“Who said, ‘Don’t be scared. I’m here to help you, not hurt you.’ Who said that?”
“I didn’t hear anyone say anything at all after that crash of lightning,” Kirk responded.
Madame Stella stared at me and smiled. “You got what you came for.” She stood and left the room.
“What the hell did that mean?” Stooge Two asked.
Eve stood. “Let’s go have some drinks to celebrate Justin’s birthday. First round’s on me.”
We all filed out of the back room and left the shop. The rain had stopped, but the sidewalks and streets were wet. A few people looked soaked to the skin, but the happy atmosphere of the French Quarter had returned.
Let the merriment begin!