Read Online License Invoked by Robert Asprin - Free Book Online Page B

want.”
     
     

Time Scount 5 - License Invoked
    Chapter 6
    Elizabeth had barely taken three steps outside before she was drenched in sweat. The heat and humidity of New Orleans wrapped itself around her like a hot, wet blanket, all prevailing and merciless.
    Pausing in an attempt to orient herself while fighting off a sudden wave of dizziness, she turned to her companion, only to find him chatting with the doorman she had passed without really noticing.
    “Hey, Boo!” the uniformed man said. “How ya doin', man? Ah didn't see you come in.”
    “Came in off Conti,” Beauray was saying, all the while exchanging a bewildering series of handshakes and palm slappings with him. “No sense fightin' the crowds if you can walk inside.”
    “You got that right!” the doorman responded, throwing his head back in an exaggerated laugh.
    “How's that pretty lady of yours these days?”
    “Mean as a snake, and that's a fact!”
    “Umm. Mr. Boudreau?” Elizabeth began. “I hate to interrupt, but . . .”
    “Be right with you, darlin',” Boo said, holding up one finger in restraint. “Say, Willie. Did you see a cute little thing come out of here a while back? Green hair?”
    “Hard to miss her,” the doorman said, nodding. “She and the folks she was with headed up Bourbon towards St. Anne. Lookin' to party would be my guess.”
    He made an offhand gesture to indicate the direction.
    “'Preciate it, man,” Boo said, holding up his hand for a parting palm slap. “Got to roll, now. You tell your lady that Boo said, `Hey,' hear?”
    “Later, Boo!” the man said, waving, then returned to his duties with an aloof, deadpan expression.
    “Sorry 'bout the delay,” Beauray said, putting a hand lightly on Elizabeth's back and steering her into the street. “I figured it would be worth the time to be sure we was lookin' in the right direction.”
    Thus began one of the strangest, most memorable walks of Elizabeth's life.
    The world-famous Bourbon Street was closed to vehicular traffic at this hour, but was nonetheless choked with pedestrians. At first, Elizabeth was overwhelmed by a kaleidoscope of apparently random noise, music and lights.
    “NO cover charge! NO minimum drinks!”
    “ . . . feelin' tomorrow, just like I feel today!”
    “Spare change?”
    “Oooh, Darlin'! Lookin' GOOD!”
    “ . . . Can't touch this!”
    “Lucky Dogs! Get your Lucky Dogs! Right here!”
    Within the first block or so, however, a certain order became apparent to her in the seeming chaos.
    Most of the crowd were tourists or sightseers. They traveled in groups or pairs, lugging their cameras or hand-cams with them like identifying badges. While some of them wore three-piece suits that marked them as conventioneers, the majority were decked out casually in shorts, new T-shirts sporting New Orleans designs ranging from the silly to the obscene, and some of the most ridiculous hats it had ever been her misfortune to see. They moved at a leisurely pace, stopping often to look in windows, listen to the music radiating forth from various bars, or to take pictures of each other standing next to street signs, the little tap dancing kids, or even trash cans.
    “Table dances! World famous love acts! NO cover charge!”
    “Crawfish! Best eating in the Quarter!”
    “ . . . Hey now. Jump in the river now . . .”
    “ICE cold. Get your ICE cold Coca-Cola here!”
    In the space of a few blocks they had walked from Conti, Bourbon Street featured at least eight bars with live bands and/or singers, eight more with recorded music blaring from speakers, six shops featuring exotic dancing or other delights (“wash the girl of your choice!”), more than twelve souvenir shops selling masks and feather boas, coffee and beignet mixes in yellow cans, hot sauce with health warnings printed on the labels, metallic-covered plastic beads in a rainbow of colors, and the ubiquitous tasteless T-shirts. Every one of the shops overflowed with tourists.
    Overhead on