Page 63 of Bourbon Truths
“Fuck yes.” She fist-pumped the air.
Instantly I regretted my decision to let Pepper drive. If she drove anything like Goldie, I would be needing a barf bag. According to Jett, Goldie was by far the scariest driver he’d ever been in a car with. Apparently she liked riding on the sidewalks, treating pedestrians like bumper cars, and defying any and all speed limits. With Pepper’s “fuck off” way of life and her free spirit, I could imagine what I was in for.
“Where to?” she asked after we got in, and she started the engine. She gripped the steering wheel tightly and pumped the gas a few times while we were still in park.
Jesus.
“Easy there, Mario Andretti. We’re just driving to the French Market.”
“Let’s see how fast we can get there,” she said, pulling into traffic and slamming on the gas. I flew back into my seat and my hand instinctively went to the “oh shit” handle above the door.
“Unless you want me puking in your lap, slow the fuck down, Pepper.”
Pepper laughed and dropped to the speed limit. “Jett was right. This is going to be fun.”
I should have known Jett had spoken with Pepper. He’d probably told all the girls about my drinking binge and asked them to be extra annoying around me. I wouldn’t put it past him. It would be his way of teaching me a lesson.
“Just fucking drive,” I replied, relaxing into my seat and pressing my throbbing head against the propped up hand that rested on the window.
“What kind of present are we getting?”
The girls didn’t know about Madeline. Only Jett knew, but he wasn’t able to come with me this year, so he’d sent the next best thing. She would understand my need not to talk about it, unlike Goldie, who would be asking a million questions. Babs was pre-occupied with helping out at Justice, and Francy and Tootse were no use because they were either too occupied with each other or Francy was trying to explain everything to little blonde Tootse. I would rather take Goldie over Tootse and Francy, and that was saying a lot.
Answering Pepper, I said, “A present for a little girl.”
“Um, that’s an odd thing for you to be getting. Care to explain?”
“Nope,” I replied, resting my head against my window.
And that was that. We sat in silence as Pepper drove to the French Market. We could have easily walked from the hotel, but I wanted to go straight to Madeline’s house afterward, and with the bitch of a hangover I was nursing, walking up and down the vendors row at the Market was going to be hard enough.
Since it was a Saturday, the Market was full when we pulled up, but we were lucky enough to find parking on a side street. With my sunglasses covering my bloodshot eyes, we walked through the Market, dodging tourists and avoiding the cheesy souvenir stands. I was looking for something handcrafted and original to New Orleans. Ever since the first time I’d bought Madeline a gift, it had been a tradition of mine.
I had no clue if she actually liked what I got her, or if she even opened the box. Her mom could have flagged the boxes as something from a psychotic and not even given them to her. If that was the case, I would continue to bring her presents on her birthday and Christmas because she deserved them, even though they might not be given to her.
“What about a voodoo doll?” Pepper suggested, grabbing a creepy-looking one off a table.
“Probably not the most appropriate gift,” I replied, trying to avoid eye contact with the doll’s wandering eyes.
“I had them when I was young. They never worked though. I asked for my teacher’s hair to burn every day, and every day she walked in with a full head of hair. Damn thing was a hoax.”
“That is so disturbing on so many levels, I’m not even going to ask.”
“Best you don’t.” Pepper smiled at me and continued to walk down the aisles of vendors.
We passed a vendor selling knock-off sunglasses and looked at each pair, examining the color and size.
“You know we’re not shopping for you, right?” I placed my hand on her back and leaned close so she could hear me over the bustling crowd.
“Can’t stop a girl from shopping.” She smiled back at me. “Hey, what about a necklace?”
Pepper led me over to one of many jewelers in the Market, but there was something about this vendor that was a little different. Her necklaces had more of a French feel to them rather than the typical beading. Silver pendants, dangling on delicate strands, were displayed on black velvet stands, catching my eye.
“These are kind of nice,” I said, looking at a circular pendant with a purple gem stone in the center. “But are they too old for a little girl?”
“Maybe,” Pepper said, eyeing a chunky turquoise necklace. I didn’t like it, but who was I kidding. I knew nothing about jewelry, so who was I to judge?
“Fancy meeting you two here.”
