fourteen ◌ welcome to nola

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All the coffee in the world couldn't keep me awake. Despite the robust taste, and the high-intensity caffeine of an extra shot, the warm liquid that flowed through my veins like a ferocious tidal wave only kept me wired. I was alert enough to fight off an armed man with only my fists and a butter knife, but exhausted enough to curl up on the airport floor and knock out. The commotion of LAX was nonexistent in the early morning hours and the soft hums of the surrounding travelers grew comforting.

As I struggled to keep my eyes open, my head bobbing sporadically, I noticed a pair of legs clad in black jeans trudge by. A folded piece of paper dropped, fluttering to the floor right in front of my feet. I lifted my head in search for the source, only finding the calm airport terminal and the back of Liam's head as he strolled away.

"There's something underneath your seat," Harry's deep voice reverberated against my eardrums as his warm breath tickled my bare neck.

I met his unreadable green eyes before glancing down at the open note in his hands. The messy handwriting scribed against the back of an old Trader Joe's receipt, instructed me to check beneath the chair I was situated on. Keeping it subtle and unsuspecting, I reached down to search for whatever what Liam needed to give us.

"An envelope?" I questioned out loud, observing the square package in my hand. "Why couldn't Liam just hand this to me. He was literally siting right behind me."

"Tash, we're about to board a plane to a new city, to rob a fucking bank," Harry spoke harshly, his words dripping with aggravation. "Liam can't be seen in public passing contraband to us in public."

"Then why wait till now? He had all morning to dish out unauthorized envelops," I pointed out, my snarky tone matching Harry's.

"I don't know, maybe he forgot," Harry guessed with irritation, though something told me that he had his own theories, and was unwilling to share.

I peeled open the envelop's flap and opened the slot to reveal two plastic cards. I dug my fingers inside to pull out its contents and wielded the badges towards Harry.

"New identification," he examined the rectangular laminates with scrutiny. "Best fake I.D. I've seen," Harry paused, squinting at me in suspicion. "Why are you grinning like that? You look like Norman Bates."

I flashed my I.D. card with a smirk, physically flattered over the information on my new identity, "it says I'm one-hundred-five pounds."

"Liam definitely rounded down by a lot," Harry snorted, clearly enjoying his cynical remark.

"You're a cock waffle," I punched him in the arm, though the impact didn't seem to faze him.

I sunk into my seat waiting till we could board the plane. First and business class were granted the luxury of entering the aircraft, and fifteen minutes later, economy seats were allowed access. As I walked down the aisle of seats, passing families with tantrum-ridden toddlers, businessmen, and wild college-aged travelers, I quickly glanced down at the boarding pass in my hand. On the way to my seat, I found Liam sitting in a row next to an elderly couple. He and I made quick eye contact before returning to an engaging conversation with his seat mates.

"Harry, you're in my seat," I groaned, fixating my weight onto one hip.

"No Tash, I am not," Harry flashed his boarding pass and sure enough, he was assigned to sit right next to me.

"Can you trade with Niall or something?" I protested. Yes, I was quite the whiny brat, but in that moment, the words spewed out of my mouth like vomit.

Harry looked up from the magazine on his lap to shoot me a deadly glare. He was, incontrovertibly so, done with my fuckery. With a sigh of defeat, I stood on the tips of my toes to reach the overhead luggage compartment.

"Let me help you there, ma'am."

With a familiar tone, but laced with an American accent, a voice suddenly crept up on my right side as the alcove softly opened like a fluttering wing. Niall gazed down at me with a goofy grin before winking from behind a pair of glasses. He continued down the aisle, his hand gently resting on my back as he strolled by. A small blush swirled on my cheeks as I watched Niall walk away and plop down on a seat next to a business woman. I threw my duffle bag into the compartment before dropping myself into the seat next to Harry.

"Don't think that's a smart idea," Harry advised haphazardly, flipping a page of the glossy booklet.

"What's not a smart idea? Your hideous man bun?" I lifted my eyes to glance at the curly locks gathered at the back of Harry's head.

"Your infatuation with Niall," Harry ignored the insult and went on a nonstop ride to his unwanted opinion.

"I'm not infatuated with Niall," I scoffed, grimacing at Harry's tacky claim.

"You sure about that?" Harry challenged with a smirk. He refocused his eyes from the bright photos in the magazine, to me. "Because the blush on your cheeks and the way you checked out his ass as he walked down the aisle says otherwise."

"First of all, I wasn't checking him out," I assured, though I wasn't so positive if my statement was 100% true. "I was merely admiring Niall, who is as sweet as a summer's day. Unlike you, Harry," I sneered. "You are a pretentious thundercunt."

"You know Tash, I'm not entirely convinced of your statment."

"I don't need to convince anyone, especially you."

"Hey," Harry began raising his arms in surrender. "All I'm saying is that lovey-dovey emotions are a distraction. And you, Tash, cannot be distracted if you want to save your sister."

"Yea, whatever," I grumbled in annoyance shrinking myself into the seat.

So what if Niall caused me to blush? He had an incredibly kindhearted soul who carried only positivity with him. Plus, he was very handsome and I couldn't deny that. There was no inkling that infected me; no threatening clue acting as a warning. Apparently, a flourishing adoration for a blue-eyed darling was a ludicrous notion I had failed to realize. Not until Harry opened his mouth and dished out his judgement, did his words begin to marinate.

The exhaustion became so overwhelming that I eventually succumbed to it. I didn't notice when the plane took off, nor did I notice thirty minutes before, that we were landing into New Orleans. I slept through the entire flight like a hibernating bear-- probably obnoxiously snoring like one too. When I slowly gained consciousness, the muffled bustle of chatter filling my ears, I gradually opened my eyes. My head rested against Harry's shoulder and in realization of this, I tried to rapidly lift my head away. However before I could, I felt a heavy pressure on my temple. Harry dozed off as well and was napping against my head.

"Sorry dude, but my neck is killing me," I whispered, and in one swift movement, slipped my head away from Harry's shoulder.

I gawked at him with wide eyes, examining the sleeping boy whose head was now resting against its own shoulder. My movements didn't seem to agitate Harry, as his eyes were still shut tightly. I felt the plane periodically dip in the air, an indication of the aircraft starting to land. My eyes swept the area, taking in the calm atmosphere around me. I did simple neck movements to massage my tender neck, before meeting the gaze of a cute toddler in the seat across the aisle.

"Hey there," I cooed, waving playfully at the little boy. He shyly grinned, and hit his face against the arm of the woman next to him.

There was a glow that caught my peripheral vision and without a thought, my eyes drifted over to the peculiarity. The phone in Harry's hand illuminated, indicating that it was nearing 10AM. Before the screen faded into black, I caught glimpse of Harry's lock screen. Innocent, silly grins filled the phone's background, instigating only warmth of any onlookers.

"I used to be a counselor at science camp."

Having been caught staring at the phone, I didn't realize that Harry had woken up. My eyes trailed from the device, to a pair of groggy green ones staring right back at me.

"I'm sorry?" I tilted my head with wonder.

Harry pushed the button of his phone, showcasing the background on its screen. Taken from a low angle, the photo was a selfie featuring Harry surrounded by kids of different ages and ethnicities.

"They're some of the kids I used to teach science to," Harry explained. There was a proud glint in his eyes as he spoke about them.

"That's sweet," I commented. I was completely surprised with the fact that this guy held the ability to interact with kids, and more bewildered that children didn't run the other way from absolute fear.

"I'm not always a pretentious tittyfuck," Harry defended.

"I believe I said you were a pretentious thundercunt," I corrected with a playful grin. "But tittyfuck sounds good too."

We landed at the Louis Armstrong airport in New Orleans without issue. From departing the plane, to baggage claim, and even hauling down a cab, the imminent stress was alleviated by the smooth process of it all. Arriving to our hotel in French Quarter, fifteen miles away from the airport, gave me a sense of relief the moment I stepped out of the vehicle. I was met with warm air kissing my cheeks and liveliness igniting from every corner of this iconic town.

"You're starting to drool there, Tash," Harry teased, poking the side of my mouth with a finger. Slapping it away, I shot him an expression dripping with irritation.

"Stop," I ordered. "Can a girl admire some historic architecture?"

The edifice before me resembled something right out of a history textbook. The three story building, with gorgeous iron galleries and flat tiled roofs, stood gallantly at the corner of Royal Street.

"The smell of freshly baked beignets and hot coffee is incredibly strong and irresistible, and all you care about is an old building," Harry quizzically pointed out.

"Every bolt, every brick, every window has a story behind it," I gushed, gazing with delight at the structure looming before me. "A lot of the original buildings were destroyed in the Great 1788 Fires, and because New Orleans was under Spanish rule at the time, they rebuilt with more flame-resistant architecture."

"Wow, you're..."

"Geeking out," I chuckled with a nod. "Yea, sorry. Just excited, that's all. I've been wanting to travel for so long, and now that I get the chance, it's under the most disastrous of circumstances."

It got a little weird after that. I honestly didn't mean to dampen the mood, but I couldn't help but speak out on the truth. I was standing in the middle of a historic city, surrounded by gorgeous buildings, and for most of my life, I've wanted to see them in person. However, instead of allowing myself to immerse my brain in hundreds of years of architectural history, I have to put my focus on saving my sister.

Silence embodied us like a bubble as Harry and I marched to the the hotel room. Placed on the second floor of the building, we climbed the concrete steps and strolled down the wrap-around balcony. From our vantage point, the beautiful streets of French Quarter came into perfect view. Around the corner and at the end of the corridor was room 210.

"Perfect, you guys made it!" Niall stood at an open door with a cheery grin. His lips were covered in white powder as he stepped off to the side in order to let Harry and I pass through.

"Mate, you snort crack," Harry patted Niall on the shoulder as he filtered into the hotel room.

"Ha, ha. It's powdered sugar from the beignets," Niall informed, wiping his mouth using the inside of his shirt.

"You got to the hotel, checked in, and had time to run and grab food?" I raised a brow at the boy. "Were you even on the same flight as us?"

I dropped my duffle bag and backpack on the floor beneath the window. Our room was larger than expected, with two full-sized beds against a wall. A television screen perched on top of a long, rectangular dresser sat opposite of the beds, while an elegant armchair embellished the corner of the room.

"What are you working on?" I stood next to Liam who sat at the desk, going through some extensive reports on his computer. "Looks important. Is this for the heist?"

"Actually," Liam turned in the chair with seriousness. "It's about this hotel."

"This hotel?" I repeated in confusion.

"It's haunted," Liam declared, not a hint of deception in his voice.

"What?" Harry lowly spoke from the other end of the room. His eyes met Liam's and the two shared an eerie moment together. Niall and I looked at one another as well, contorted expressions plastered on our faces before bursting into hysterical laughter.

"You're not serious, are you?" I questioned in between laughs.

"It's a legitimate concern," Liam defended. He jumped from his seat and pointed at the laptop screen. "We're on old, sacred grounds. This building itself holds history far beyond its new carpets."

"Okay, just because this place is old and a little creepy," Niall started with a smile. "Doesn't mean that we're standing in a building infested with the paranormal."

"Come on, Tash," Harry insisted, shoving my shoulder.

"What?" I shrugged, a perplexed undertone to my words.

"You of all people should find Liam's claims to be bona fide," Harry testified with assertion. "You like history, so you know that tons of people have died through out the centuries. You possibly can't look me in the eye and deny that some of those people didn't come back as ghosts."

"And you, Harry, of all people should find ghosts to be something only derived from horror flicks," I countered. "You're a science buff!"

"You know atoms exist, right," Harry tested, crossing his arms, a pointed look in his expression.

"Duh," I drawled, unsure of where this discussion was headed.

"But you can't see them," Harry proclaimed. "Yet, you know one-hundred percent, that they do exist."

"Because even though I can't see such an iota of energy with my naked eye, I know atoms are a thing because there is physical evidence of them," I protested with persistence.

"Okay, same goes for ghosts. You can't see them, so what makes you believe they don't exist?" Harry pointed out.

"An atom is part of matter, and matter are things you can physically touch. Like that desk in the corner, for instance," I gestured for the table— was I actually having this discussion with Harry?

"There are tons of physical evidence out there Tasha," Liam stepped in, conveniently corroborating with Harry. "There are EVP's, photographs, even video footage of chairs magically being violently thrown across a room."

"You guys are crazy," I deduced, plunking myself onto one of the plush beds.

"I'm going to prove to you ghosts exist," Liam promised, and something was telling me he was totally serious.

"You know what actually exists without any evidence needed to prove this?" Niall's lips lifted into an incredulous grin. We all stared at him, waiting for a continuation of words. "The bank that we have rob, is a block away. We should probably do some recon?"

"That bank, is also around the corner from Cafe Du Monde," Liam mentioned, the inflection of his voice hinting at an ulterior motive.

"You want beignets," Harry guessed.

"Niall ate all the ones he brought back," Liam informed.

New Orleans was a gorgeous city, and French Quarter itself was lovely. That Sunday morning near Bourbon Street harbored locals and travelers alike, enjoying all this ionic area had to offer. We ventured to Prime Corp bank looking sus as fuck, but Liam thought it was the best idea not to travel in a huge pack so early in the day. We all left the hotel separately, with ten minutes in between us. We wore hats, sunglasses, and both Harry and Liam wore jackets to cover their distinctive arm tattoos.

It was refreshing to be by myself; to low-key sight see without Harry nagging me, or Liam and Niall arguing about something silly. I was able to take in the beauty of French Quarter, admiring the colorful personalities and wondering what a town like this would feel like at night. Niall seemed to think like I, when his voice filled my left ear with a similar inquiry.

"I wanna know what the night life is like here," he thought out loud, the com in my ear tickling.

"I already know what you're thinking," Liam commented. "And we're not going to find out."

"You're killing the buzz that I don't even have," Niall groaned.

"What makes you think it'd be a smart idea to party here?" Liam questioned harshly.

"I only assumed you'd want to because that fake I.D. you got Tasha, says she's twenty-one," Niall stated matter-of-factly.

"Speaking of," I jumped in. "Where did you get us fake I.D.'s and why did you wait till LAX to give them to us?"

"It was a last minute request and my contact was willing to give them to me while we were in the airport," Liam explained.

"And who's your contact? Can he or she be trusted?" I questioned, suddenly wondering about any negative repercussions about including some random person into this mess.

"Don't worry," he assured. "They can be trusted."

Liam's voice was laced with bitterness and while I wanted to press on, I decided against it. It wasn't even noon yet, and I didn't feel like having a heated debate— even though our dispute over the paranormal happened only forty minutes ago. The conversation ceased for a few short minutes before I neared Prime Corp.

The bank was situated in between two businesses— a restaurant, and a specialty store selling voodoo artifacts. The storefront displayed a collection of interesting, yet creepy goods including a book of magic, cylindrical candles, colorful crystals, and a collection of talismans. I shuddered from the energy that surrounded the business.

"It looks like all the high-security items are kept in the back," Harry's voice filled my ear.

I switched my attention from the magic shop, to my other surroundings. My eyes darted behind the sunglasses, searching for the other boys, and finding them scattered through out the street. Harry, stood only a few feet away from me, his concentration on the window in front of him.

"Are you checking yourself out?" I asked, though not directly looking at Harry. "I'm not surprised."

"To everyone else, it looks like it," Harry explained. "But I am observing the inside."

"What do you see?" Niall asked.

"It's an industrial-style bank. High brick ceilings. But it looks like the technology has been updated to fit modern times," Harry examined.

"The building looks really small. Not to jinx it, but this might be an easy heist," Niall predicted confidently.

"Then the vault where the money is kept, is only a few yards away from behind the tellers," Harry guessed. He was no longer checking himself out in the reflection of the bank, an instead leaning against one of the iron posts.

"Wait, what street is this?" I questioned, my brain synapsing at an elevated frequency.

"Canal Street," Niall answered. I found him in line at an outdoor vendor selling deep fried frog legs. "Why?"

"We're standing on of an underground tunnel," I informed with a smile. I probably looked like a deranged psycho just smiling to myself, but I was way to excited to not let my lips lift into satisfied smirk.

"Are you saying that Prime Corp has a set of tunnels beneath the building? How is that even possible?" Harry pondered. "New Orleans sits below sea level."

"Bubonic Plague, slave trade..." I simply answered. "The tunnels were used to transport the deceased from the plague in both a hygienic way, and so the people who lived here weren't freaked by all the dead bodies. Also, the tunnels were a means for the slave market."

"So your dad's money is being kept underground," Harry surmised. "In a basement maybe?"

"Yea, most likely," I gathered with certainty. "Wait a second," I brought my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose in search for a figure I have yet to see. "Where the hell is Liam?"

"That's a very good question," Niall noted, his words muffled from whatever was in his mouth.

I stepped away from the cluster of buildings to walk around the street. My eyes darted from person to person, searching for Liam. Because of the hat he wore, and the jacket adorning his body, his essential signifiers were unfortunately covered. Wherever Liam was, he blended into the crowd.

"Sorry guys."

"Liam, where the fuck did you go?" I hissed, inadvertently startling an elderly couple who gawked at me with disgust. How odd it must've been to see some random girl curse at a street lamp.

"Just wanted to round the block," Liam answered. "Wanted to see if there were any alleys or rooftops we could use to our advantage."

"Why did you turn off your coms?" Harry asked.

"Didn't do it on purpose," he claimed. "Accident."

"Well we have a little more than forty hours to complete the task," I disclosed. "We should probably start planning. Also, people are starting to look at me for speaking to a fucking plant."

"Meet you all back at the hotel," Harry declared.

"Hey Tasha, let's take a detour through the St. Louis cemetery," Niall suggested with excitement.

"Down," I chirped. "I'll see you at the entrance. Anyone else down?"

"Hell no, I'm not trying to bring back anything negative into our already haunted hotel," Liam expressed.

"I'll come with," Harry stated.

"Really?" I questioned.

"Not a smart idea, to leave you two alone," Harry blurted, but before I could respond, he quickly added. "The amount of trouble you and Niall could get into are endless."

Harry was such a cockblock.

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» author's note «

Is anyone else starting school again after a wondrous winter break? If you are, I wish you all the best during this academic semester. Study hard but play harder!

I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. I did tons of research on New Orleans and saved a lot of photos of French Quarter. I've never been to the city, but according to my research, there is a set of underground tunnels in New Orleans. They're placed in a different street than from where I placed the ones in this story.

Anyway, I hope I'm doing NOLA justice so far :) Thank you!