Page 29 of Gator

“Living and breathing, huh?” Worm muttered, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. “You sure she isn’t pulling your chain? I mean, you can always wait till the ultrasound. You know, with a licensed professional who’s trained in this shit?”

“Figures you’d be the doubter, Worm,” Braveheart teased with a smirk. “After all, didn’t you tell me last year you saw aRougarouout by the swamp?”

“That wasn’t noRougarou!” Worm snapped, his voice rising. “That was just some fool wearing a costume, trying to scare me and my cousin.”

“Enough,” I said firmly, stepping forward and motioning for the rest to follow. The wooden steps creaked ominously underfoot, each groan of the old planks sounding like a warning. “We’re not here to debate mythical beings or yourmôman’sweekly phone calls, Donut. Stay focused. If Mademoiselle Moriarity knows something, I need her to spill it.”

Donut shoved the last piece of his beignet into his mouth and dusted the sugar off his hands. “If she serves coffee with those cards, we might be in for a treat.”

Juju gave him a sideways glare. “Coffee? You better hope she don’ give you tea laced with somethin’ you can’t pronounce.”

Braveheart chuckled, his laughter echoing faintly as I rapped my knuckles against the peeling door. A moment passed in silence. Then another. The air felt thick, like the house itself was holding its breath. Just as I was about to knock again, the door swung open with the slightest creak.

A woman stood there, tall and regal, with piercing eyes that seemed to see far beyond the present moment. Her presence was unsettling yet magnetic, as though the house itself bent to her will. “So,” she said, her voice smooth but edged, “you’ve come to test fate, Gator.”

The boys exchanged uneasy glances, and I stepped forward, trying to steady my voice. “I’ve come for answers.”

Her lips curled into a faint smile, one that promised more questions than resolutions. “Then step inside... if you dare.”

“Well, that was a fuckin’ waste of time,” I grumbled, storming back into The Bourbon Bar an hour later.

“I liked her.” Donut smiled, kicking off his flip-flops as he made himself comfortable on a chaise lounge before digging into a small bag the crazy woman gave him. “She seemed really nice, Gator. Look at these cookies. They are so small. I can fit one whole in my mouth.”

Rolling my eyes at the idiot as he chucked it in the air and caught it with his open trap like popcorn, I walked over to the bar and sat just as Devlyn came walking out of the kitchen with a bowl of Juju’s jambalaya.

“Oh, you’re all back,” she said with a mouth full of food. “Where did you guys go?”

“Went to see Mademoiselle Moriarity,” Braveheart offered. “She’s famous around these parts.”

“She’s a fraud,” Worm muttered, grabbing a book from his stack in the corner. “All I’m saying is that a medical professional will be able to tell you everything you want to know in time, Gator.”

“But I want to know now!” I shouted, facing the know-it-all of the club. “I gots to know if they are boys or girls. I need to start plannin’.”

“Hold up.” Devlyn sighed, placing her bowl of jambalaya on the bar. “You morons went to a psychic to see what sex the babies are?”

“Well, yeah.” Donut nodded, swallowing another cookie. “Can’t have little fillies runnin’ around here with me half nekkid all the time. Plus, this is a bar. We gots all kinds of people comin’ and goin’ at all hours. Ain’t safe.”

“Oh!” Thore interrupted. “How ‘bout we do that string thing?”

“What string thing?” I asked.

The man frowned. “Nah, it ain’t gonna work. Need her to have a weddin’ ring on for at least twenty-four hours.”

“I’m not wearing a wedding ring,” Devlyn scoffed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the bar. “Besides, are you all seriously suggesting a piece of string can tell you more than science can?”

“Science takes too long,” I grumbled, dropping onto the nearest stool while Worm gave me that smug, superior look he’d perfected over years of reading way too many books. “I ain’t got the patience for all that waitin’. I need answers now.”

Juju, ever the peacemaker, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, maybe we just do it for fun. Ain’t hurtin’ nobody, right?”

Donut piped up, mouth stuffed with yet another cookie, crumbs tumbling onto his bare chest. “What if the string thingsays one thing, and the doc says another? Which one do we believe?”

“The doctor,” Worm said firmly, not even looking up from his book.

“The string,” Braveheart countered, grinning as he leaned back in his chair. “The old ways got more truth in ’em than y’all give credit for.”

Devlyn groaned, rubbing her temples. “I swear, you lot are gonna give me gray hairs before I hit thirty.”

“You already got one,” Donut teased, which earned him a glare sharp enough to cut steel.

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