Big Easy Bonanza

out in flop sweat. This wasn’t at all what she had in mind for a first conversation with her sister—in a public place with a murderer waiting outside; with the other taking the lead; without time to rehearse.
    “I came here today just to see you, I guess. I thought we could talk another time.”
    “What do I look like?”
    The question caught Talba offguard. In her view, Janessa looked awful; unacceptable. Badly in need of a big sister. “You look fine,” she said.
    The girl lapsed once again into silence.
    “Look, I don’t care what you look like. Did they tell you why I came looking for you?”
    Janessa nodded, not speaking.
    “I’m your sister,” Talba said, as much to inform herself as the other, to see how the words would sound.
    For the first time, Janessa looked her full in the eye, her face ablaze with hostility.
    Talba’s stomach did a little flip. She pulled her hand from Janessa’s grasp and looked at it. “Maybe I don’t need polish today.”
    To her amazement, the girl burst out laughing.
    “What’s so funny?”
    “You look like you think I’m gon’ bite you.”
    “You look like you’re going to.”
    Janessa reached for Talba’s hand. “Come on. Let me polish ya nails.”
    “You sure?” Talba was no longer in the mood.
    “Yeah, I’m sure. Let me pick the color.” She turned around for a moment, surveying her rainbow. “This purple here.” She looked closely at the label. “Professor Plum. Whatcha think that means?”
    “Who knows?” Talba brushed aside the subject. “Why are you mad at me?”
    Janessa began shaking the bottle. “I ain’t mad at you.”
    “You’re acting like it.”
    “I’m gon’ polish ya nails, ain’t I? Didn’t I pick a special color and everything?” Her voice was furious.
    She was still wondering what to say next when Janessa solved it for her. “You a singer or somethin’? What’d that lady mean?”
    Talba smiled, not quite knowing how to break it to her. “I’m a poet.”
    “You a what?”
    On impulse, she said, “
I
am a Baroness.”
    “You a what?” the girl repeated.
    “That’s my stage name. The Baroness de Pontalba. What I do is, I write poems and I perform them for audiences.”
    “Poems? Ya mean like, ‘Roses are red, violets are blue?’ ”
    Talba was starting to be amused. At least the girl was talking to her. “Well, something like that. Are you into rap at all?”
    “Yeah, some. I mean, everybody is, I guess.”
    “Well, think of it like this. If the lyrics of rap songs weren’t part of a song, they’d be poems.”
    Janessa paused in mid-operation, holding Talba’s pinkie delicately in one hand, the polish brush with the other. “What you mean? The
whats
of rap songs?”
    “The words. The lyrics are the words.”
    “Oh.” The girl broke out in an unexpected smile. “You mean you write, like, words for songs.”
    “Only without the songs.”
    Janessa frowned in frustration.
    “Look. I’m performing at a restaurant in a few days. Why don’t you come hear me?”
    Janessa looked away—not down this time, just anywhere but at Talba. “Ain’t got no money to go to no restaurant.”
    It was funny. They were talking about everything but the fact that they were sisters.
But what did I expect?
Talba thought.
Were we going to compare nose shapes?
“Let me call you,” she said on impulse. “We can work something out.”
    Clearly embarrassed, pushed into a corner, Janessa said nothing, just continued her clumsy purpling of Talba’s nails.
    Talba felt trapped. However unwittingly, the woman was holding her prisoner as surely as Sergeant Rouselle had. And by the same token, Janessa was
her
prisoner.
Already we’re acting like family,
she thought.
We’re stuck with each other.
    That thought amused her enough to get through the experience, and when the time came to go, she said, “Think about it.” She left a generous tip.
    The whole process had taken an hour, an hour of tension and boredom and disappointment and triumph, but not an hour in which she had a moment to worry about the man tailing her. He had all her attention now. She could think about Janessa later. That was way soon enough.
    The Le Sabre was nowhere in sight but she’d expect these guys to be halfway professional. Where next? She knew where she wanted to go, but just in case, she thought she might go shopping first. There were plenty of stores at the Riverwalk to while away an hour or so.
    She took St. Claude again, keeping a watchful