Kiss of Awakening, Page 3

CHAPTER THREE

  Something about the city of New Orleans rubbed me the wrong way, instantly putting me on edge. While I couldn’t pinpoint what made me feel this way, I could say that being here, there was an altogether different feeling than what I’d anticipated surrounding the place. Maybe this was simply because everything I knew about New Orleans had come from reading books and watching television, I wasn’t sure. The atmosphere I had always felt jump off the pages and float from my TV was nothing as intense and lively as what I witnessed the moment we stepped off the plane. In my fantasies, the Crescent City didn’t have such a distinctly ominous energy lingering in the thick air either.

  This place was sensory overkill on all levels.

  Even so, the yearning I had previously felt pulling me toward the city all my life dissipated, leaving me with a sense of uneasiness that I couldn’t explain. Maybe it was because, with coming here, the desire to see my mother had resurfaced, bringing with it new anxieties and worries.

  “Woo, we’re here!” Bree waved her hands in the air like a mad person, her voice a piercing shout. “Hello, New Orleans!”

  People around us stopped and stared. Smiles twisted their lips as they chuckled at the crazy girl obviously not from here. All I could do was laugh, while feeling thankful my best friend had insisted on coming with me. New Orleans was going to be a blast with Bree at my side, regardless if I got to meet my mother or not.

  “Okay, so…we’ve landed and picked up our luggage,” Bree said to no one in particular. She appeared to be checking things off a mental list. “Now we need to find the hotel.” She clapped her hands together, and grinned at me. “Let’s do this!”

  She gripped the handle on her suitcase. I watched her as she walked along the sidewalk toward who knew where.

  “How about we hail a cab,” I called after her, my words wrapped neatly inside a small chuckle.

  “Right.” She lifted her arm high above her head, and waved wildly to gain the attention of a few cabbies passing by.

  Steering my suitcase toward her, I took note to how warm it was here. I’d Googled the weather beforehand, and had been surprised to see it would be in the high sixties to low seventies for our entire trip. The warmth this late in October felt amazing. In comparison with the upper fifties and gray clouds ready to let loose any second I had left behind, I would take this sunshine and gentle breeze any day.

  “Told you this was my lucky shirt.” Bree cast a sideways glance in my direction as a cab rolled to a stop in front of us within seconds.

  I rolled my eyes, but grinned. Her lucky shirt was a green sweatshirt with a wide neck that hung off her shoulders. It had the words “Lucky Shirt” printed across the front with a four leaf clover in the center.

  After stowing our luggage into the trunk of the cab she managed to hail, we climbed in and gave the name of the hotel to the driver. My heart thumped loudly in my ears as I sat beside Bree in the backseat, thinking of how crazy it was I’d just jumped on a plane destined for New Orleans roughly two hours ago, and now, here I was, riding in a cab through the city in search of the hotel my runaway mother had booked a room for me at.

  “What do you want to do once we check in?” Bree asked.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged, my eyes taking in the tall buildings that had such an otherworldly feel to them. These buildings had character. The lights bounced through the night sky and illuminated the city in an array of vibrant colors.

  . Bree bumped into me with her elbow. “Earth to Kenna. I asked if you were hungry?”

  My stomach grumbled, giving her an answer before I could. “Starved apparently.”

  “Me too. We should find a place to eat.” Bree leaned back in her seat, gazing at the city. “Ugh, I’m famished actually.”

  When the cab pulled up in front of The Bourbon Orleans Hotel, I climbed out of the backseat and stared up at the building. I had stayed in a massive hotel before, but this place was something else.

  “Nice.” Bree smiled, gazing up at the length of the building.

  Our driver pulled our luggage from the trunk and set it on the curb. Once I paid him, we started toward the entrance. After checking in, Bree and I took the elevator to the third floor where our suite was. The woman at the desk had called our room the “Bourbon Balcony Left Suite,” but I had no idea what that meant. Upon stepping into the room though, I decided all her talk could be summed up into one word—expensive. My mother had obviously no qualms about spending money on something as insignificant as a hotel room for a weekend.

  “No freaking way! This is all for us?” Bree dropped her suitcase at the door, and stepped farther into the suite.

  “Wow,” was all I could manage.

  The place was impressive to say the least. With a modern style and charming ambiance, this hotel room was nicer than my damn apartment. Painted red bricks formed an accent wall behind the couch to our left, a sleek coffee table rested in the center of the room, while a striped recliner sat in front of us, and a flat-screen TV hung mounted along the wall to my right. A set of modern-looking stairs made a formation along the wall nearest the windows.

  “Oh my God, there’s an upstairs?” Bree bolted through the room toward the stairs. I watched her as she took them two at a time until she disappeared at the top. “Kenna, get up here! You won’t believe this place!”

  When I reached the top of the black staircase, my jaw nearly hit the floor. A four-poster bed with a sheer white canopy draped around the top fit for a queen was what I found.

  “Isn’t this insane for a hotel?” Bree slipped the palm of her hand along the reddish satin bedspread.

  “Right?” I swept my gaze around the sage green walls and dark-themed furniture.

  Bree flopped down on the bed and patted her stomach. “Okay, so now that we’ve taken in this crazy beautiful place, we need to find some food.” She sat up on her elbows. “But then what?”

  “I don’t know.” I walked over to the desk beside the doorway to the room in search of a brochure listing restaurants or attractions nearby. A binder filled with menus for room service caught my attention.

  “Oh, let’s order something from that.” Bree had moved to where I stood, and was reading the menu over my shoulder. “The room is already paid for, and from the looks of this place, I don’t think ordering one bout of room service is going to break your mother’s bank.”

  Pursing my lips together, I contemplated her reasoning. I was starved and didn’t particularly feel like searching for a place to eat, and then have to wait even longer for the food to be prepared.

  “Okay,” I caved. “What do you want?”

  I skimmed the long list of options available. “How about we get a pizza?”

  Generally, I wasn’t a lover of the greasy, cheesy mess, but right now, I sure could go for an extra-large slice.

  “Yum, that sounds so freaking good right now!”

  I smiled. “I’ll call it in.”

  Picking up the receiver, I punched in the numbers for room service. While I placed our order, Bree crossed the room and opened the French doors that I presumed led out to the balcony. She disappeared from my view for a few seconds before coming back with a wide grin on her face.

  “You have got to check out this view when you hang up!” She beamed.

  I nodded and finished placing our food order. Once I hung up, I set the binder back on the desk and headed toward the balcony. The second I stepped outside, the sights and sounds of the New Orleans nightlife met my ears.

  “It looks like some people are celebrating Halloween a little early.” Bree pointed to a couple dressed in skeleton costumes walking hand in hand down the sidewalk. “We should go shopping for a costume tonight, and ask around to see where the best parties will be tomorrow night.”

  “Maybe after we eat.” My eyes skimmed the street line, taking in the bright blue lights of the place across from us. They seemed to light up its balcony in a ghostly way.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Bree headed back,
no doubt to explore the rest of the room, with an ample amount of excitement in her steps.

  Staring after her retreating form, I wished I had half the enthusiasm about being here that she seemed to harbor. With a sigh, I walked to the side of the balcony and leaned against the iron rods that made it up. My eyes skimmed over everything going on beneath me. I took in the narrow street below, zeroing in on each person as best I could as they passed through the strangely colorful shadows. Jazzy music seemed to stem from nowhere and everywhere all at once. New Orleans was invading my senses one at a time.

  Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply, allowing myself a moment to decompress and enjoy the fact that I was here—I was in New Orleans—as a warm breeze brushed against my skin and through my hair.

  The sound of a large bird flapping its wings close by caught my attention. I snapped my eyes open and turned swiftly the moment I realized how close the noise actually was. I was startled when I saw no bird at all. There was nothing there—nothing except for another black envelope with my name scrolled across the front in my mother’s handwriting.