The older one was attractive, in a rode-hard-and-put-up-wet sort of way. clearly a working girl from the French Quarter, there to barter for safe haven. The one who stopped conversation and wrenched neck muscles was her daughter. Seventeen, if a day, wavy blonde hair, long tanned legs; she looked as sweet and as innocent as a Renaissance Saint. The mother sashayed up to the bar and began to speak with Roy-Boy. The girl stood smiling uncertainly in the center of the room, all male eyes turned her way. She was clearly uncomfortable, so I tore my gaze away from her perfect profile and directed it back to the book in my hand. But my ears were on the conversation a few feet from me, and I listened as the hooker/ mother pimped her virgin child to Jabba the Hutt.

The deal-making didn't last long, and I watched Roy-Boy actually lick his plump lips as the mother walked back to her daughter and spoke softly for a moment. A cry of protest arose as the girl glanced in Roy-Boy's direction. Her mother shushed her quickly and led her to a table to continue their talk.

Gotta admit, it was intense, watching the girl cry as her mother motioned to the chaos outside, browbeating and coercing her into compliance. I knew who carried the day when the whore crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair, satisfaction written across her face. The girl sat stricken in pale, her eyes staring in shock. I slammed back my glass of Chivas in one swallow.

I recognized the whore, or at least her type. My own mother held a similar occupation when I was growing up. Betraying a child for a month's rent comes easy for some people, but it's the first time you're shafted that you always remember the most. I had a feeling that this kid would think about today each time the lights flickered during a thunderstorm. I poured another scotch and tried to repair the crack in my crumbling emotional foundation.

As the influx of survivors slowed, I changed to a table as far from the bar as possible. I was sick of looking at Roy-Boy's face and my musckles were cramped from being wrapped around the legs of the barstool all day. The hooker headed over to the jukebox and began making moves towards the rich businessman, his wife's eyes going mean and her lips getting thinner as she glared at them. I watched over the rim of my scotch as the whore's daughter rose and began to walk towards me. She was a looker, a young Michelle Pfeiffer, sweet as fresh buttermilk on a summer morning. Katrina, the jealous bitch, roared outside and I could barely make out the girl's words.

"Hi. My name's Lila." She held out her hand and I just looked at it. Embarrassed, she turned red and lowered it to her side. It still wasn't enough to keep her from perching nervously on the edge of the chair opposite me.

"You don't say much, do you?" her slim fingers savaged a paper napkin.

"Not much."

"He says he'll let me and my Ma stay here."

"I heard. Do as he says, and he keeps his word."

"We gotta pay him and we ain't got no money."

"I figured."

"It's the only safe place we could git to. The water and the wind... he'll put us out in it, if he don't git what he wants."

"Likely."

"Could you help us? Ma's desperate. She says I gotta fuck him."

The way she looked at me, all sad and hopeful, made me want to rip off my beaten-up face and hide it under the table. I found myself regretting those years in the ring like never before. Beauty and the Beast colliding in New Orleans...

"He's always got an angle."

"It's just... I kinda hoped the first time would be special." She wiped tears, shining like diamonds, off of her cheekbones. I handed her another napkin and tried to ignore the twist in my heart.

"Most people would laugh, considering Ma's line of work. But I never let any of her Johns come near me... Could you help us? You're big and you can make him leave us alone." She bit down on the tip of her thumb, and a tear dropped as I watched. When she removed the thumb, I saw a crescent imprint of her teeth on the flesh. I swallowed another swig from my glass, hard.

"I'm the man's muscle, kid. I do as he says, and I get to stay here, just like you and your old lady."

"I guess we all got a price."

Her voice had gotten smaller. It was hard to hear her with the howling wind and the trees screaming as they were ripped from the drenched earth around the nightclub. I saw her blanche as Thibodaux, stuffing his face behind the bar, wipe gumbo off his chin and leered across the room at her. Poor, God damn kid. What a way to lose your cherry.

"You're on your own, honey. He owns the place and he's got us all over a barrel. Every solitary soul here has met his price. Had to or face them 'gators swimming around down on Bourbon Street. The two of you ain't no different."

She stood up and I saw that her slender legs could hardly hold her steady. She smiled at me, a glimpse of the sunshine swallowed by the storm outside and I felt my insides rip a bit.

"Thanks for listening." she squared her slim shoulders. "You know, you ain't so ugly. And I think you gotta good heart. Don't let him drag you down too far."

I watched her walk back to her old lady's table, then headed for my room, depressed and suddenly desperate to get out of the bar. I sat by my window and watch the logjam below. Rooftops, cars, corpses, all clogged the streets beneath the hotel. Best as I could see it, there was no way out for the kid. Her mother had made the deal with oyi-Boy and Lila would just have to pay the piper. Still, she had kind words for me despite my refusal to help. That hadn't happened to me in decades. Few people bothered to look past the chipped face to see if there was something more than the thug on the outside. No matter how much I put away, there was no getting Lila out of my head. I passed out till late in the evening.

When I woke up, the first thing that hit me was the rank odor that wafted from my body. Jeezus, Lila had sat opposite me and I had stunk worse than the sawdust on Destry's gym floor. I rummaged through the closet until I found a clean T shirt and jeans then hit the shower. Swallowed a fistful of ibu tablets and headed for my seat at the bar. The Colombian had been drafted to tend drinks and gave me the evil-eye as he poured me the Chivas I ordered. He wisely held his tongue. Lila sat at the same table as the hooker and I was relieved that nothing had occurred while I was unconscious upstairs.

Then the entertainment began. Roy-Boy took the floor, dressed in full Orbison regalia, his karaoke machine programmed with every song The Voice had ever graced the world with. Then the deluded ass-wipe preceded to stomp all over the dead bones of one of the world's greatest artists. I pray to Christ there's a special place in hell for celebrity impersonators.

The festivities finally got out of hand when he asked Lila to dance. Her revulsion was clear for everyone to see as he ground against her while crooning Dream Baby into her ear. Even the Colombian was looking sympathetic. I thought she was going to faint by the time he released her period he kissed her hand, his piggy, black eyes boring into her soft blue ones. She froze, like a fox does when a Mack truck barrels straight towards it.

"Later, Baby. You and me."

Lila made a small, choked sound and fled the bar. Roy-Boy strutted over to the girl's mother, pausing to pull the tight, white pants from the crack of his ass. Class act if I ever saw one. I downed a sip, eyeballing Thibodaux as I did. And an idea began to form as the fiery liquid slid down my throat.

******

The whore left first several hours later, winking at Roy-Boy as she headed up to their room. I was sure this was it. Motherly advice to a daughter on the big day and all that shit. Roy-Boy followed about fifteen minutes later. The Colombian cut a look my way.

"

"Poor little one. She gonna have a rough night that's for sure."

"Maybe."

"Wish there was somethin' could happen to help her."

"In case you ain't noticed, there's a shortage of miracles in New Orleans these days."

"An hombre with cojones..."

"Might stand a chance if there was someone around to do crowd control."

"These sheep would not be a problem."

"It be worth a suitcase full of blow to however took the job."

"You just hired some backup, amigo."

"I'll bring it by on the way out."

He nodded and began to wipe down the bar. I headed upstairs as quickly as I could. I heard Lila scream as I reached the flight of stairs below her room. I prayed I wasn't too late, and I'm not a praying man. The whore stood sentry at the door and she grabbed my arm as I reached for the doorknob. I punched her full in the face. She dropped like a sack of grits.

I rammed full force into the door. It shattered on impact and I saw Thibodaux between Lila's legs, erect and ready. Her face was covered in tears, sweat and snot and her eyes were wide with horror. He turned just as my hands grabbed his neck. I enjoyed his look of terror more than anything in my life, at least until I began to methodically beat the fat bastard to death. While most of my fury was because of the girl on the bed, I must admit a portion was in honor of Orbison. This son-of-a-bitch would never fuck with Blue Bayou again in this lifetime. I kept on stomping him until I felt a gentle hand on my arm. Lila stood beside me; her gown pulled together across her front.

"Mason, he's dead. We gotta get outta here." Then she reached up and did another thing nobody had done since I was little. She kissed me quickly on the mouth and I felt my heart swell, then burst it's dam. Too bad Roi-Boi was dead at our feet. I could have killed him all over again, for her.

"Alright. Get dressed. I'll gather up some stuff we're gonna need."

"I'll get Ma."

"You gotta be kidding!"

"She's the only one who really saw you come to this room, Mason. Believe me, she'll sell you out for a rock of crystal. She's gotta come with us, baby, like it or not."

"Then go wake her up. I cold-cocked her to get into the room."

She quickly got dressed and rushed out to wake up the hooker. I pried open a small floor safe and remove the briefcase, the cash and the jewelry he had gathered. Everything except the coke went into my pockets. Lila ran back in.

"She's awake. Let's go!"

I took a last, satisfying look at the mess on the floor then walked into the hall.The whore glared at me.

"Wipe that look off your face before I finish the job, bitch."

She looked away but she got off the floor and followed us down. We entered the bar and the Colombian grinned as he saw us. The grin became incandescent when I handed him the briefcase. I heard Lila draw a breath.

"He earned it. Nobody came up to help Roi-Boi, did they?"

She shrugged and took my hand. The crowd parted like the Red Sea when they took in my blood splattered hands and boots. As we left, I heard the Colombian shout,

"My friends, there's a new Heffe in town and you better give me your attention!"