“Sounds good. This is a different city than I’m used to, but all of them are, I think. Everyone has a different vibe.”
“What are you used to? You mean compared to home?” He was so curious. He needed to know more about Colt, more about where he was from and what influenced him.
“I been to Baton Rouge, Nashville, Memphis, Atlanta, Dallas, Houston, Austin. They’re all different. I love New Orleans the best, then Austin. It’s a music city too. Down to its roots.”
He nodded. “New York is heavily rooted in music too. You’ll see it everywhere. Jazz clubs and other nightclubs with amazing vocalists, street musicians, buskers in the subway.” There was no shortage of music in the city. “What makes New Orleans your favorite? Just because it’s home? The kind of music? The vibe?”
“It’s home. I grew up in Houma, but my daddy played there. It’s a special place—there’s magic on the streets, voodoo queens and priests, bluesmen and witches.”
Voodoo and witches. Like Johnson and the Devil, he would have considered them little more than spooky stories before he met Colt. He wasn’t sure where he stood anymore, if he was honest, but he understood that his lover believed in those things deeply, and he had no intention of insulting Colt. “I don’t know if I believe in all of those things, but if I ever go, I want you to be my tour guide.”
“I’d be honored.” Colt winked over the top of his coffee cup. “And none of them things care a bit whether you believe, honey. You make yourself happy, and they will too.”
“I’m pretty good at making myself happy.” He leaned closer to Colt, smiling back. “You’re pretty good at it too.”
“I do try, cher. I do. This is some nice coffee. I like.”
“That’s my little bit of magic. I make a great cup of coffee.” He’d finished his, in fact, and got up to take his things to the sink. “Are you ready?”
“Lemme grab a shirt and my boots. I brought an extra. Shirt, not boots.”
“Don’t rush, baby. I’m going to clean up here.”
“Oh. Oh, I’ll help. That ain’t right, you washing up alone.” Colt jumped right up to help.
“Dishwasher, baby.” He pointed. “I’m fine. You go on and get ready. We’ll get out of here faster. Don’t forget sunglasses and your phone for pictures.” The glare was something else from up high.
“I’m on it.” Colt kissed him, deep and hard enough that he saw lights for a second, and then Colt was off like a shot.
He licked his lips, the coffee tasting even better with a splash of Colt in it. Fuck, those kisses were never going to get old. His mind could have wandered after Colt all morning, he couldn’t help but go over that dance in his mind, Colt playing for him and reading his intention so well. And the way they worked together like they shared?—
Whoa.
Okay, so that was crazy.
He was just a little dance-drunk, right? Still caught in the music. In Colt’s music. In Colt himself, and he still couldn’t understand why. He needed to figure it out, figure out what they were doing. He’d invested before in people who had other places to be, and while Colt was interested in New York now, he knew the type. A gig would come up in Chicago or Austin, and Colt would be off, fascinated by a new place. Whatever that was that had happened this morning in his studio felt real but fragile and rare. He needed to understand it.
Colt came back to him, singing softly in a lilting patois, hands finding him unerringly.
“Oh, look. A shirt.” He smiled and let Colt pull him in close, exploring the fabric with his fingers.
“I know. I’m all dressed and pretty for you.” Those black-button eyes twinkled for him, wicked and playful. Joyous.
“So pretty I could just eat you up.” He kissed Colt’s nose. “Let’s go play tourist.” He wriggled away, actually wriggled like he was four or something. God, those eyes made him giddy.
“Works for me, cher. I’m good at playin’, me.” Colt shot him a wink and grabbed his hand. “Allez!”
Lord havemercy,they’d done looked and seen and heard, and the sun was shining, and he was having the best time a man could with clothes on.
They went up into shining buildings and down into the earth. They walked a million miles, Kyle laughing and leading him from one fascination to another. This time to Central Park.
“We’re here!” From Strawberry Fields, they’d taken a nice walk around the south end of the lake, and now they were looking at Alice, sitting on her toadstool, bronze and bigger than life. Kyle just about looked like he was fixin’ to bust with happy. “Oh, the Mad Hatter is wonderful. My favorite of them, I think.”
“I seen a play once about Alice being lost in the bayou, and the Queen was Marie Laveau.” The hatter had been Baron Samedi, and the hare had been a zombie, jittering about. Best had been M’sieu Lapin as a rougarou, the crazy beast chasing le feu follet into the darkness. He’d loved that, the way the people had been all in black, running with fairy lights to give the monster bunny something to chase.
“Okay, who is Marie Laveau? You’ve got to be sick of me asking you to explain things all the time. I’m sorry.” Kyle rubbed his arm, looking honestly apologetic but interested.
He knew Kyle was curious and liked to know things. “Oh, Lord, Lord. She is a voodoo queen from my neck of the woods. Damn powerful, so the story goes. Some say they saw her walking the day after she died. If you have a wish you need spelled, you can go draw an X on her grave, but you got to sneak in, these days, so it better be a powerful need.” Wandering St. Louis No. 1 was taking your life into your own hands, especially after dark.