Read Online King of the Mutants by Samantha Verant - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Samantha Verant
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bike, is going to be alright?”
“She’ll be right as rain and spit shined in the morning. I’m an honest man. Never go back on my word.” Billy Bob grabbed the wad of bills like a crazed monkey going after a banana. “Pleasure doing business wichew. You boys hungry? ’Cause I’m hungry enough to eat the south end of a north bound skunk. Dinners on me and then I’ll show you to your beds. Ol’ Henriette, why, she made up the best jambalaya this side of Congo Square’s ever done seen and I’d hate for fine fellows like the likes of you to miss out.”
He glanced down at my duffle bag, which moved around on its own.
“Maybe you want to take your dog out of the bag? I don’t have a problem with ’em. Sure he’d like some of Henriette’s sausage, and it’s not like Louisiana’s finest gives a hoot.”
Busted again. Been had. Time to move on.
Honestly, food sounded good, and it was a free meal…sort of.
“Come on, boys,” said Billy Bob as if we didn’t have a choice in the matter. “Let’s say we go and grab us some grub.”
We followed him to his Boogaloo Bar and sat down in a noisy corner. The patrons in the bar were rowdy and drunk. Six burly guys that wore black leather motorcycle vests embroidered with “The Devil’s Spawn” on the back sat next to us, crushing empty beer cans on their heads. Billy Bob said hello to them, sat down, and ordered three bowls of Jambalaya from a walkie-talkie. He added an extra order of sausage for Snaggletooth.
A chain-link fence surrounded the stage on the far side of the room. On it, one guy sang, another strummed a washboard, and the last played a piano accordion. They had mad skills. My exhaustion kept me from jumping onto the stage to jam with them. Their beats kind of had some hip-hop and reggae influences, as far as I could tell. And the crowd on the dance floor, well, they went crazy—singing, dancing, yelling, and generally having a good ol’ time.
I found myself wondering what purpose the fence served. My answer came when a full beer can smashed into it, then another. Yet, the band played on with huge grins. I wish I’d had that kind of protection performing at Grumbling’s. I managed to muster a smile, despite just being taken for a ride.
While we waited for our food to arrive, Billy Bob grilled us with questions. “Where you boys really heading off to this time of night?”
Freddie began, “We’re on our way to New—”
I kicked the motor mouth in the shin. I didn’t want Billy Bob to know any more of our business. “We’re in New Orleans because I need to find some woman named Sarah,” I said curtly.
“You’re going to need a whole lot more than a first name. Maybe ol’ Billy Bob can help you out? I know a lot of people ’round these parts. Got a last name?”
I racked my brain. What was it? My tail tingled with remembrance. “Feena.”
“Sarah Feena? Don’t think I know anybody called that.”
My expression didn’t hide my disappointment. Billy Bob’s face puckered in concentration, mouthing the name over and over again.
I instantly perked up when he said, “Now Serafine, the first name, is fairly common among the Creoles. The most famous one is this Hoodoo queen who lives deep in the Bayou with the gators. Heard all sorts of tales about her, and if’n it’s trouble you looking for, well, you’re going to find it with that one.” He leaned forward, a maniacal sparkle twinkling in his eye. “Heard she put the gris-gris, a wicked curse, on some kid. Heard the kid’s mother caused Serafine problems. Now the kid’s so ugly, you’d have to tie pork chops to his ears so even a dog would play with him.”
“Yeah, but doesn’t she see the future?” I asked.
“You shouldn’t be messing around with crazy stuff like that. Why on earth would you do that for?”
I didn’t respond because even I didn’t know the answer. All I knew was that every bone in my tail told me I needed to find her. Thankfully, our food
“She’ll be right as rain and spit shined in the morning. I’m an honest man. Never go back on my word.” Billy Bob grabbed the wad of bills like a crazed monkey going after a banana. “Pleasure doing business wichew. You boys hungry? ’Cause I’m hungry enough to eat the south end of a north bound skunk. Dinners on me and then I’ll show you to your beds. Ol’ Henriette, why, she made up the best jambalaya this side of Congo Square’s ever done seen and I’d hate for fine fellows like the likes of you to miss out.”
He glanced down at my duffle bag, which moved around on its own.
“Maybe you want to take your dog out of the bag? I don’t have a problem with ’em. Sure he’d like some of Henriette’s sausage, and it’s not like Louisiana’s finest gives a hoot.”
Busted again. Been had. Time to move on.
Honestly, food sounded good, and it was a free meal…sort of.
“Come on, boys,” said Billy Bob as if we didn’t have a choice in the matter. “Let’s say we go and grab us some grub.”
We followed him to his Boogaloo Bar and sat down in a noisy corner. The patrons in the bar were rowdy and drunk. Six burly guys that wore black leather motorcycle vests embroidered with “The Devil’s Spawn” on the back sat next to us, crushing empty beer cans on their heads. Billy Bob said hello to them, sat down, and ordered three bowls of Jambalaya from a walkie-talkie. He added an extra order of sausage for Snaggletooth.
A chain-link fence surrounded the stage on the far side of the room. On it, one guy sang, another strummed a washboard, and the last played a piano accordion. They had mad skills. My exhaustion kept me from jumping onto the stage to jam with them. Their beats kind of had some hip-hop and reggae influences, as far as I could tell. And the crowd on the dance floor, well, they went crazy—singing, dancing, yelling, and generally having a good ol’ time.
I found myself wondering what purpose the fence served. My answer came when a full beer can smashed into it, then another. Yet, the band played on with huge grins. I wish I’d had that kind of protection performing at Grumbling’s. I managed to muster a smile, despite just being taken for a ride.
While we waited for our food to arrive, Billy Bob grilled us with questions. “Where you boys really heading off to this time of night?”
Freddie began, “We’re on our way to New—”
I kicked the motor mouth in the shin. I didn’t want Billy Bob to know any more of our business. “We’re in New Orleans because I need to find some woman named Sarah,” I said curtly.
“You’re going to need a whole lot more than a first name. Maybe ol’ Billy Bob can help you out? I know a lot of people ’round these parts. Got a last name?”
I racked my brain. What was it? My tail tingled with remembrance. “Feena.”
“Sarah Feena? Don’t think I know anybody called that.”
My expression didn’t hide my disappointment. Billy Bob’s face puckered in concentration, mouthing the name over and over again.
I instantly perked up when he said, “Now Serafine, the first name, is fairly common among the Creoles. The most famous one is this Hoodoo queen who lives deep in the Bayou with the gators. Heard all sorts of tales about her, and if’n it’s trouble you looking for, well, you’re going to find it with that one.” He leaned forward, a maniacal sparkle twinkling in his eye. “Heard she put the gris-gris, a wicked curse, on some kid. Heard the kid’s mother caused Serafine problems. Now the kid’s so ugly, you’d have to tie pork chops to his ears so even a dog would play with him.”
“Yeah, but doesn’t she see the future?” I asked.
“You shouldn’t be messing around with crazy stuff like that. Why on earth would you do that for?”
I didn’t respond because even I didn’t know the answer. All I knew was that every bone in my tail told me I needed to find her. Thankfully, our food
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