Kyle listened to every word, looking thoughtful, working something over behind those maybe brown, maybe green eyes. “I love your stories.” He took Colt’s arm, leading him over to a vendor under a yellow umbrella. “Let’s sit and have a drink, and then we’ll go shop for dinner.”
“Sounds good.” One day he would take Kyle to Bourbon Street to the Jean Lafitte, to Marie’s House of Voodoo, to Jackson Square and have his palm read. So many things.
Kyle bought them lemonade, and they sat by the Conservatory Water, watching the little model boats sail the pond. “If you kind of tune out the building back there, they look so real.”
“They got lots of boats from my home too. Lots. You ever been on any?” He’d been on a bunch—airboats and shrimping boats and riverboats and bass boats.
“Oh yeah. My dad has a couple. A thirty-foot sloop and a forty-eight-foot yacht. I’ve been on a cruise to the Caribbean and on a bunch of little boats for fishing. Also canoes, kayaks, stuff like that.”
“How cool is that?” He couldn’t imagine what that meant really, but he knew it sounded important. Sloop sounded like a word in a doo-wop song, sort of like duck shit hitting the water.Sloop.
“You like the water?”
“You cain’t be a bayou baby and not like the water, I don’t think.”
“Well, maybe we’ll get out on a boat sometime.” Kyle finished his lemonade quickly, noisily slurping up the last drops and grinning. “Pardon my Scotchman’s whistle, I guess I was thirsty.”
“Scotchman’s whistle… I like that.” He blew across his straw, making a deep, low sound that made him chuckle.
“Always making music.” Kyle leaned against him. “You want to shop? Do you know what you’re making me?”
“What’s that, cher? Happy, I hope.”
Kyle laughed. “For dinner, baby.”
“Shrimp étouffée, hmm? With a good bread?”
“Sounds perfect. And yes, you’re making me happy.” Kyle kissed his cheek and took his hand. “I’m having a great day. You?”
“I am. This is a good place, so much to see. I bet you could spend a whole life and not get to it all.”
“I basically have, yeah. And the weird thing is, when you live here, you hardly ever see any of it, you know? So busy working and whatever. It’s just hanging out right under your nose.”
Kyle stood up. “Come on, we’ll hop the bus and head home.”
“Is there a store to shop at?” He’d need the holy trinity and Gulf shrimps, if he could.
“Yeah, closer to my place. You need a fish market?”
“Ooh, yeah.” He loved to see all the fishes, see what was good. Sometimes he would go to the market after his long night playing, walk around with all the cooks in their checkered pants.
Kyle smiled at him. “Okay. We’ll start there.”
The bus was a long trip, but he got to see lots of this part of the city out the windows. The park was on the right all the way to midtown and on the left were cool old buildings, with details and carvings and most of them had doormen.
The fish market was a big, open space. Busy and chilly, and noisy too. Whole fish on ice, filets in glass display cases, live lobsters and crabs.
He wandered, happy as a pig in shit, looking at all the different seafood. The redfish was gorgeous, and they did have Gulf shrimps, head on. “I need two pounds of them, please, sir, and a redfish.”
“Whaddya makin’, my man?” The older man behind the counter got to work.
“Étouffée.” If the shrimps were nice, next time he’d make barbecue ones. Or gumbo. “The fish, he just wants to come home and be eat up.”
“Nice. Fresh clam juice on the end there if you need it.” The guy weighed the fish and handed it over.
Kyle leaned around him. “I don’t think I’ve ever had redfish.”
“No? We’ll have it with…. You got rice?” He needed celery, peppers, onions, some parsley and tomatoes….