Rescued By A Kiss (The New Orleans Go Cup Chronicles Book 1) by Colleen Mooney Page B

of combo locks. Use them.” Jewel said.
    “What’s going to happen when your manager sees me in here with Isabella?” I asked.
    “If you knew half of what goes on in here, the dog won’t faze him. Trust me.” Julia kept changing out of her clothes and into her costume. It took her forever to get the smallest articles of the costume affixed to her person so as not to move or fall off. I didn’t see how it mattered since there was nothing left to the imagination even with them in place.
    Dancers and bartenders all wore the same costume, the bare minimum. Julia’s costume was the same get-up as the girl at the door. Julia’s started with a Tuxedo jacket over the pasties which she would remove before making her way into the exotic part of her performance, i.e. the pole.
    The top hat covered more than the rest of the costume put together. You could put Julia’s, I mean Jewel’s, entire costume in the hat. All the dancers wore the same long gloves, tuxedo bow tie, G-string, pasties, and top hat, but added their own accessories to make them stand out as performers like tuxedo jackets, feather boas or giant fans.
    Once I had most of her clothes stuffed into three compartments and locked, I asked her for directions to the ladies’ room. She instructed me to leave the broom closet, umm, dressing room, go to the hallway and look for the first door on the right marked with an L for ladies. I left Julia holding Isabella until I came back.
    The door to the ladies’ room was narrower than the average width of standard doors. Everything in the French Quarter was built smaller. These structures are over 200 years old, and built for smaller people long before beignets and daiquiris added to the need for oversized doorways. People were shorter and smaller and had smaller feet, so steps were narrower with a lower rise and interior doorways didn’t need to be very wide. I had to turn sideways to get through the door into the area with the toilet and sink. Once inside, I sat, grateful for a quiet moment alone. As I contemplated my next move I heard snoring. I stopped thinking about how to get back into Charity when the snoring grew louder and added on a whistle chaser. I looked up and realized the sound came through the vent directly over my head as I sat on the commode. I gathered myself up as fast as I could, and ran to find Julia.
    “Julia! There is someone hiding in the ceiling in the ladies’ room looking through the vent when you squat!” I said in a frantic whisper.
    “What?” Julia didn’t stop putting on her makeup. “I told you to call me Jewel in here. There are always Peeping Toms in there.”
    “This guy is not peeping, he’s snoring and he’s in the ceiling.”
    “What do you mean in the ceiling?” She stopped applying eyeliner and looked at me.
    “Come and see, or rather, come and hear.” I said leading her to the ladies’ room. At the door I put my finger to my lips to keep quiet so we wouldn’t wake him up. We both couldn’t fit so I pushed Jewel/Julia into the room with the toilet so she could be under the vent. I pointed to the vent above the toilet. We both heard it, a low exhale with a whistle sound followed by an inhaling stutter-snore. I was holding Isabella who cocked her head, the same as we did, trying to figure out what was up there.
    We backed out of the bathroom and when we got in the hall Jewel said, “That dumb bunny. I bet he crawled up from the men’s room side.”
    “I think you should call the police.” I said, thinking this provided an opportune time to leave during the confusion. I wanted to get my car and continue on my mission even if I had to do it without her help.
    She said, “You’re right. Wait here.” She ran off and returned with Pinky, the manager.
    Pinky looked to be in his fifties, wore his hair in a neon pink-spiked mohawk and carried a cat-o-nine tails over the shoulder of his sleeveless leather vest, no shirt underneath. His six pack looked like it was