Awestruck, I watched the multi-colored buildings swish by—there was no separation between them, as though the entire city were connected, one long heaping heart, each artery pumping blood to the next chamber.

Perhaps it was age that helped me see it clearer now; I was barely twenty-one when I came here last, and the whole place looked different now. The Gothic-inspired moldings and lacy wrought iron, the shotguns next to the Creole cottages—this amazing patchwork of French, Spanish, and Caribbean influences meshed into this unbelievable tapestry. There’s no other place quite like it, that’s for sure.

“Leblanc and Landry, right?” the driver asked, breaking the spell that had overcome me.

“That’s the one.” The Leblanc-Landry mansion was in the Garden District, close enough to Bourbon Street and the festivities of downtown, but also with an air of seclusion on its acre of land surrounded by tremendous old oak trees.

Mara and I had pored over the pictures dozens of times, planning and planning. Well, it was mostly her—I just nodded and went along with whatever she said. I’d quickly learned that there was no ‘team’ in teamwork with Rosalee’s best friend Mara; she ran the show and you either assisted or got the hell out of her way.

Leblanc-Landry was secluded and romantic, with its hidden courtyard, freakish old trees, and cotton-candy architecture—it was perfect, all but the price. When I’d agreed to help plan Rosalee’s bachelorette party, I hadn’t agreed to foot the bill.

Mara had promised to pay me back before the trip—I’d put most of it on my credit card. But here I was, in New Orleans… and she still hadn’t paid me. Mara, with all her trendy clothes and accessories, the pricey makeup and designer haircut, without a dollar to her name, apparently. There were so many excuses—she needed to ‘move some money around first’; she was waiting for an owed payment from her employer; she lent too much to her sick relatives…

I’d heard it all from Mara over the last few months. At first, I’d been inclined to believe her. But then she never paid me back. And despite running up the bill in my name, she spared no expense for the party, either.

I had to face it. I’d probably be stuck with my three nearly maxed out credit cards while Mara got all the credit for the party from Rosalee and the other attendees…

Unlike Mara, I wasn’t a trust fund kid with a degree to fall back on. I had to work for every penny I earned at my job and her thoughtlessness when it came to paying me back was enough to make me clench my teeth every time I conjured up her face or name…