Page 25 of Cheater Slicks

“She helped herself to the plates of diners who couldn’t finish their meals.”

“So, she stole from them.” I should have known Badb wouldn’t dumpster dive. “Gotcha.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Good thoughts, I hope.”

“What Rollo said about gods being responsible.” He rolled a thumb over one of the beads on the necklace Badb salvaged. “There are gods of revelry.”

The peculiar manifestation of the Midnight Parade wasn’t exactly a party, but gods were multifaceted beings. Most of them, anyway. At least on paper. Gods in the flesh, I was learning, were a whole different kettle of fish.

“Dionysus, Bast, Shiva, Bacchus.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “That’s all I’ve got. I’m not up on party gods.” Pretty sure that Dionysus and Bacchus were the same guy, so that cut me down to three total. “What are you thinking?”

“Bacchus is celebrated widely in New Orleans, but he’s more than a symbol of excess.”

The Krewe of Bacchus was a big deal in The Big Easy, and plenty of celebs had portrayed the goodtime god over the years, but I had trouble imagining him cavorting with the dead. “Oh?”

“Bacchus can be called a dying-and-rising god.” Kierce squinted against the glare as the sun rose higher. “His female followers are called maenads, and they feed the dead with their blood. Maenads can also be called the thiasus, his revelers.”

“The party boy image threw me.” I tugged on my left ear in thought. “I never paid much attention to him in my studies.” I could see now that had been an oversight. “What makes him a dying-and-rising god?”

“Hera was jealous of Bacchus. Of his relationship with Zeus. To punish him, she had Bacchus torn apart by Titans. They devoured everything but his heart. Zeus took the heart and placed it in a mortal’s womb. Semele was her name. She gave birth to Bacchus. Some consider his rebirth as him rising from the dead.”

“That actually makes a tiny bit of sense, so there’s probably a wackier version that’s the real story.”

Kierce cracked a smile, and I soaked it up greedily, happy to have banished his grim mood.

For now at least.

Beneath the striped awning overhanging the sidewalk at Café Du Monde, I stuffed my face with hot, pillowy dough while waiting on Kierce to return with his oysters. I had already sent Pascal back to Vi’s with takeout for Jean-Claude, Josie, and yes, even Rollo. As much as I didn’t want to part from Pascal, he convinced me to let him book a Swyft on Matty’s phone then showed the text conversation promising Josie would meet him at the curb to help him bring up the food while it was hot and fresh.

About to dust the resulting white powder off my shirt, I jumped when my phone rang. I had forgotten how much coffee I tended to drink when I was visiting, and how jittery it made me, but everything tasted better in New Orleans.

“Hey. Carter.” I wiped sugar off my hands onto my thighs, but I still left behind fingerprints. “How’s it going?”

“Your sister isn’t returning my texts.”

“So not great.”

“She also won’t answer my calls.”

“She mentioned something about not being your girlfriend or needing your permission to live her life.”

“I didn’t mean she should run off half-cocked without telling me. I meant she was free to enjoy herself. That she doesn’t have to run every damn thing she does past me.”

“Well…”

“She sent me a picture of her sticking out her tongue like she was about to lick the Bourbon Street sign. Until that exact moment, I had no idea she was even in New Orleans. She didn’t mention it, or the tip on Matty’s possible location.” A low growl vibrated my ear. I couldn’t tell if it was for Josie, for not updating her, or for me. Also for not updating her. “She was wearing a string bikini, heels, and foam. Fucking foam, Frankie.”

Soap, actually. I knew a guy who mixed batches for clubs. Though I don’t think this was one of those times where sharing a fun factoid would de-escalate the situation.

“I was not aware she had done a photoshoot, but that’s very Josie.” I should have been more suspicious when Josie and Pascal hit Bourbon Street on our first night, but even without an agenda, she would have called dibs. “I don’t know what you want.”

“I don’t know what I want either.”

“That’s definitely a problem.” I was glad she couldn’t see the face I was making. “Are yousureyou’re not dating Josie?”

“I made it plain from the start I had no interest in a relationship.”

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