Where The Numinous Awaits

Ch. 2: Legend's Gang

August 14 | Day

I studied my reflection in the glass facade of the New Orleans Century Luxe Hotel. Adjusting the sleeve of the crimson valet uniform, I turned to survey the fit and fondled the braid-trimmed neckline that covered tattoos climbing to my ears. A fleeting glimmer of red and gold scales appeared on the edge of my cheekbones, and a serpentine dragon that only I and others like me could see slithered over my shoulder and disappeared into my chest.

"First day?" A chipper voice approached me from the right. I lifted my chin in a pseudo-nod as I faced a curly-haired college kid in a similar get-up to me. "Knew I didn't recognize you. Curtis usually works this shift." He squinted at my name tag. "Don. Nice to meet you."

I forced a smile. "And you are?" Not supposed to be here.

"Oh, I'm Jerry," he said. "I pick up weekends with Curt occasionally. There's some big car show this week, and I know they're gonna tip like crazy, so I had Shauna to put me on the schedule. By the way, don't let it bum you out. You'll get used to the way these stuck-up rich people talk to you."

"What do you mean?" I knew what he meant, but. Keep chatting with me. Don't go into the breakroom where your buddy Curt is hogtied.

I glanced around at the busy area, where streetcars rattled by and tourists strolled with shopping bags. It was an obnoxiously sunny day. Palm trees lined the boulevard, and across the street, a motorcycle was idling in the shade. A woman with long pink and blond-tipped dreadlocks, who was incredibly attractive, strolled past me, catching my attention. I followed her with my eyes until she disappeared into an economy motel behind Century Luxe.

Nothing in my demeanor changed when my concealed earpiece crackled to life: "Target sighted."

I laid a hand on Jerry's arm. "I'll take the first one."

When Jerry saw the sleek gray two-seater that pulled up moments later, he ruefully shook his head. "You lucky son of a gun. I want the one after this."

"No problem." I smiled.

The driver of the vintage, mint condition sports car pointed a finger at me as he climbed out. "I don't want to see a single scratch on this thing when I get it back." He then begrudgingly dropped the key into my hand. His wife slid out of the car and tucked a fur shawl around her ivory shoulders. She eyed me with a predatory smile before they slinked into the hotel.

Once in the car, I fired up the engine, pulled away from the front entrance, and tapped my earpiece. "Target acquired. Get ready for the Okey-Doke."

"Okey-Doke in progress," replied my best friend David Cho.

I saw in the rearview mirror the motorcycle zooming up behind me. Before I could ease into the hotel parking garage, the bike zipped around to the driver's side, and a gun was leveled at my forehead. I slammed on brakes. "Oh, my God! Don't shoot!" I yelped. I threw up my hands as a crowd began to gather, and onlookers shouted for help.

"Get out of the car! Get out of the fucking car! Give me the keys!"

"I'm getting out," I whimpered, fumbling with the door. The key hung loosely from my thumb, and I kept my hands up and my head down. "Pl-please, don't hurt me."

"'Please, don't hurt me! Please, don't hurt me!' Give me the fucking keys," David taunted.

I hid a smirk and whispered, "Laying it on thick."

Grinning, he snatched the key from my grasp and hopped into the vehicle. "Take care of my bike," he said discreetly. When the souped-up motorcycle fell to the ground, I saw him wince.