Page 6 of Carnival Queen

“Stop yelling at me, Lottie! I’m trying to help you here. Let me think. I know we can do something that will get you on that lead float. Just give me a few minutes to think about it.”

Lottie shook her head at her mother, grabbing her Chanel clutch and car keys, she stormed toward the front door of the Garden District mansion.

“Lottie, where are you going?” called her mother.

“To handle things for myself.”

CHAPTER FIVE

After the calls were made, Deanna and the rest of the board were working with the teams in charge of creating the floats. Every parade had a theme, and this year, they were celebrating the foods of New Orleans. Each float was going to be highlighting the specialties of the region. Gumbo, jambalaya, beignets, seafood, and so much more.

“Charles, this looks amazing!” laughed Deanna. “How on earth did you get a thirty-foot crawfish with moving pincers on that trailer?”

“I can’t tell you all my secrets, Deanna,” he smirked. “She’s a beauty, though, isn’t she? Crawfish is a big part of our community and the money that we bring in. She’ll be front and center at the parade.”

“It’s amazing.” She looked around and spotted another float. “Oh my gosh, Harry, that oyster is fabulous! Does it open far enough for someone to sit inside?”

“Well, I could make it that way,” he smiled. “I think we could make sure the hinge stays open, and we’ll place a seat inside. It would look great with a girl inside the shell. I’ll have the boys make sure it’s safe.”

“I love that! She can be the pearl of the float.”

Deanna continued to walk around the massive warehouse that served as their home for developing the entire parade and her floats. Each parade would usually have at least one massive warehouse, some two or three, depending on their size. New Orleans even gave tours of the ‘Mardi Gras Graveyard,’ a famous group of warehouses and spaces that showcased previous floats.

“Miss Deanna?” said a young man, running toward her.

“What’s wrong, Petey? And it’s just Deanna, honey.”

“There’s some girl at the front screaming and yelling. Mr. Oscar said to run and get you,” said the young man breathlessly.

“Great,” she muttered. Following the young man toward the front of the warehouse, she could hear the young girl’s voice getting louder and louder. As it did, Deanna knew exactly who she was dealing with.

“You’re a bunch of stupid idiots!” she screamed at Oscar.

“Enough!” said Deanna. “You will not come into this place of business and act like a fool. Lower your voice, or I will have you arrested.”

The young woman glared at Deanna, obviously used to getting her way with that glare.

“Why wasn’t I chosen as queen?” she said through clenched teeth.

“Although you did well, you did not do as well as some others,” said Deanna. “And this little display is not helping you at all. You are on the court, but I can remove you from that as well.”

“I deserve to know how on earth you believe Louisa Pollock is more qualified than I am for queen of the parade.” Deanna smiled, nodding at the young woman.

“Have a seat,” she said calmly. Lottie stared at her, then back at the table with the chairs. “I said, have a seat. Or leave. Those are your options.”

She took the seat, her arms folded across her chest.

“Lottie, are you aware that folded arms are interpreted as someone who doesn’t want to listen and isn’t open to any feedback?” The young girl just stared at her. “Unfold your arms.”

“Fine,” she said, thrusting her arms to her sides. “Better?”

“No. Not even close. This,” she said, waving her pen in a big circle around the girl, “is why you weren’t selected.”

“What do you mean? I’m much prettier than any of the girls, especially Louisa,” she scoffed.

“Did you read the requirements for queen, Lottie? Never mind. I know that you didn’t. The requirements are, and I quote, ‘…the queen of Mardi Gras must be between the ages of sixteen and nineteen. She must be currently in high school, college, or a vocational school. She should have a B average or above, be involved in extracurricular activities, and spend at least twenty hours per month in volunteer activities.”

“How am I supposed to volunteer when I do all the other things?” she snapped.

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