I caught my breath and then laughed some more. He watched me like I had lost my mind. When I could finally breathe enough to form a sentence, I said, “You just called me a Disney Princess porn star.”
Cruz kept his frown at first, and then he slowly started to grin. “It was the best example I had.”
I took a sip of my drink. “I don’t look like Snow White.”
“Yeah, Lila, you do. I once wondered if birds dressed you every morning. I was eight at the time, so it made sense back then.”
I laughed again. I had to. He was right. The old Lila was very Snow White-like. She was proper, poised, polite. And boring. That was my past though.
“Okay, I agree. I was very Snow White-like but not anymore.”
Cruz stopped smiling. “Yeah, I noticed.”
“Let’s try this again,” I suggested. Then pointed at a bar across the street. “Let’s try there,” I suggested.
“No way in hell,” he said as he took my elbow. “I’ll pick the place.”
“What was wrong with that place?”
“I’m not ready to take you into a topless bar.”
Oh. “Okay, yeah. You better pick the place.” I agreed.
“How’s your drink?”
“Good. Sweet,” I told him.
“Yeah. Never tried a hurricane. I don’t like sweet,” Cruz said then steered me into another bar with open doors and live music. This time it was more Cajun type music. “I need another drink. You’re coming with me.”
I followed along beside him, and this time the bartender was a man. However, he also was checking Cruz out. I didn’t blame him. Cruz was something to look at. I just didn’t let myself look at him. At least not for long.
I scanned the place, watching the people dancing and drank more of my hurricane.
“Come on, Snow White,” he said once he had his drink.
We walked over and found a tall table with two empty stools and sat down. The beat was different than anything I had danced to so I watched the people who knew how to dance to that music. I learned quickly. Once I was sure I could do it, I finished my drink.
“I’m going to dance,” I told him as I stood up.
“To that? You can’t dance like that,” Cruz argued.
I wasn’t secure about a lot of things, but I was confident in my ability to dance. Feeling the buzz from my drink, I winked at him then walked out to the dance floor where others were dancing. The song started up and I joined in. The style of dance was easy to pick up, and before long I had forgotten about Cruz, Eli and everything else. I was just having fun. Letting go. Being someone else. Someone who didn’t live the same old everyday life.
“You from around here?” a guy asked me after a song ended. He was tall with long dreadlocks and big brown eyes. His thick accent told me he was from around here.
“No,” I replied.
“Who taught you to dance like that?” he asked looking impressed.
“I’m a dancer. I watched and learned.”
“You shouldn’t be dancing alone.”
I started to say more when the music started back up. He held out his hand and raised his eyebrows as if he was issuing an invitation. I raised mine, and placed my hand in his. I didn’t feel like me at all. I loved it.
We began dancing together, and before I realized it, everyone else had moved back and given us the center of the floor. I was twirled and dipped, and we moved like we’d done this dance together before. I had no idea what it was called, but I let him lead and I followed. I heard whistles and clapping. It just kept me going. Once the song ended, my dance partner tilted me back and placed a kiss directly on my lips. That startled me.
I stood up quickly and forced a smile, then turned to walk away, but ran right into Cruz’s arms. He was glaring at my dance partner over my shoulder. “You’re either gonna get me killed or arrested,” he muttered under his breath for only me to hear him. Then he slid his arm around my waist and we left the bar. Back outside and onto the street.
Cruz Kerrington
BOURBON STREET HAD always been fun for me. Tonight was more stressful than fun. Why was I so damn overprotective of Lila? I had barely drunk anything. I stopped at the next bar and ordered a double shot of whiskey. I needed to lighten up. Enjoy this. If she wanted to dance with strangers, she could, and I would let her. I hadn’t come to be a fucking babysitter. I wanted to have some fun too.
“I want something too. No sugar though. Maybe a Goose with soda,” she said over the noise.
I had caught myself before I asked her if she’d had too much. I was acting like the damn hall monitor again. Instead, I ordered it and handed it to her. Then I walked over to the woman that had shots stuck in her naked cleavage and handed her a twenty-dollar bill. She waved her hand for me to assume the position on the table in front of her, then she climbed on top of me straddling my waist and stuck the shot of whiskey in her tits before leaning down to pour it in my mouth.