Page 1 of Phantom
Prologue
ONE YEAR AGO
Scarlett
Ifloat on the musical notes hanging in the air. Each one is loud and percussive as they all dance out of the open doors of the Bourbon Street bars. When I spin around, I can capture the high ones and sing them at the top of my lungs.
The tempos are slower versions than I’m used to. Buteverythingisso slowright now.
Even the laughter around me sounds sluggish, battling with the upbeat jazz radio that started buzzing in my head a week ago.
All the words and beats and melodies jumble together. The ones in my head clash with the ones in the street. I’m not sure which I’m hearing loudest at the moment. They’re all blending together into a harsh cacophony.
I stop spinning and stick my tongue out, wondering if I’ll be able to taste the powdered sugar scent that wafts out of Café Beignet, despite it being a few blocks away.
“Get her the fuck out of here, Jaime.”
I stutter to a stop and whip around to face the voice that rumbles low, yet can still be heard above all the chaos in and around my mind. It raises the hairs on the back of my neck and makes me shiver as I curve my long black curls behind my ear.
But when I spin toward the deep bass, I can’t find the owner, only my best friend, Jaime. My poor bestie bites his fingernails and glances around us. Weariness and defeat dull his usually vibrant brown eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, only my voice comes out strange. It takes me trying again to realize my tongue is still out. I roll it back up into my mouth like a chameleon and giggle.
Jaime only curses in Spanish under his breath, looking more defeated than ever. “She’s sick, man. I can see it in her eyes, like you said.”
Who is he talking to?
Confusion tries to filter through the fog in my mind, but I physically wave it away. “You’re no fun.”
“We have to go, Scarlett,” Jaime answers with a wobbly smile, obviously trying to put on a silly face to distract me as he waves my high heels at me. “Let’s put your knockoff Manolos back on—”
I stomp the dirty ground with the balls of my feet and whine, “But theyhurt.”
“Too bad, girl. I told you not to wear them to the Quarter, but you didn’t listen to me, so now here we are. Either put them back on or I’ll have to carry you. Hurry up, though. The cops are already thinking you’re straight uploca.”
“Well, that’s rude—”
He reaches for me as I pout, but I twist away, nimble on my bare feet.
“No way,High-may!High-may!High-mayyyy,” I belt his name out in an off-key tune and keep my eyes peeled to find a date for my friend so he’ll finally lighten up tonight. A superhot, short, college-aged touristy looking guy passes by at the perfect time and I grab his hand.
“Come here! My bestest friend in the whole wide world desperately needs to get laid. He’s no fun when he hasn’t gotten a good dick in a while.”
“No joda, Scarlett.” He snatches my hand away from the other guy’s and wraps his arm around my shoulder, keeping me flush to his side. “Of course you’d find the sexiest guy on Bourbon Street right when I have to get you out of here. Where the hell is this wingwoman energy when I actually need it?”
“All the fun in me died with my dad.” A high-pitched laugh escapes me, even though a sharp, knifelike pain in my chest tries to break through my euphoria.
“Meirda, Scarlo, I’m sor—”
“Nope!” I roll out from underneath his arm and shove my hand into his apologetic face. “No, no, no. No more sadness! I already did all that. I couldn’t get out of bed for a month and now I feel free! I’m going to fly… dance… no, wait!” I stab my finger at the nearest glowing neon sign. “Let’s get a drink!”
“You spent all your money in less than twenty-four hours, Scarlo. You’re broke.”
My bottom lip pokes out. “Please? Pretty, pretty, pretty please? I’ll pay you back, I swear!”
“Dominguez!” that sexy, grumpy voice shouts between us again. “I’m on my way. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
I try to pretend like I don’t hear it because I’m not sure whether it’s just another frequency joining the jazz radio in my brain, until I realize Jaime’s got someone on speakerphone.
