Lousiana Hotshot

her. Sure. He’d just love it. He’d probably love a few other things as well, and that was the dicey part. How long could she hang out without having to put out?
    One thing, she thought ironically, she did have groupie credentials; she’d been with a musician the night before. For all the Baron knew, she went out with a different one every night of the week.
    The strategy was dangerous, but it might be the shortest distance between two points. Before she went to bed, she left a message on Eddie’s phone telling Eileen she’d be late, she had an errand to do.
    She woke up to a downpour.

Chapter 11
    Miz Clara banged on her door. “Sandra, you gettin’ up? Who you think you is? Queen of the May?”
    That was what the title of the poem was about. When she was a little girl, her mother used to do that, and she’d think,
If my daddy were here, he wouldn’t treat me like that. He’d treat me like I really was Queen of the May.
    She rolled over and laughed at herself. Queen of the May indeed! Where in hell had Miz Clara even gotten the phrase?
    She thought:
What shall I wear to a prayer breakfast? Ah, I have it. How about a nice white shirt and a blue skirt?
    Uh-uh. Not if I’m playing a groupie. That calls for Baroness clothes.
    But if Eddie comes to work, he’ll fire me.
    She ended up in flowing bronze with a change of clothes in her car. But as it turned out, she just could not make herself get out of her car and walk blocks in the pouring rain, ruining her Japanese silk kimono and her cute sandals that went with it. Absolutely couldn’t. Anyway, was a sodden groupie sexy?
    How about if I surveil him?
she thought, and wondered if she’d just invented a word.
    The idea appealed to her. She parked half a block away from the Ramada Inn, where the breakfast was being held, and about fifteen minutes later the Baron walked out along with one of the men she’d met last night, and got in a warm, dry limousine.
    Right decision for once, she thought, and took off after the limo, trying to remember the name of the man with the Baron. Kassim, she thought. These people all ran together.
    The limo turned around and threaded its way back down St. Charles to the interstate. Evidently it was going to New Orleans East, where Baronial Records was. She followed on 1-10. The car took an East exit, all right, but it didn’t go to Baronial Records. Instead, it stopped at the Shoney’s near Home Depot.
    She did a double take. Shoney’s? All the money in the world, and these guys were having fast food. She figured they’d send the driver in for supplies, but instead, four men tumbled out of the limo and went in as if one of them wasn’t one of the hottest stars in the country. She parked in the lot, thinking the groupie routine wouldn’t fly in this all-male atmosphere. These dudes were definitely not going to be in the mood for chicks.
    The rain had let up, and she could actually see pretty well through the window. The four guys met two others, and they all sat down to have breakfast. Real breakfast, unaccompanied by prayers.
    The record company was pretty close— maybe this was a hangout, someplace where the Baron knew he could go and be left alone.
    Surely you wouldn’t take a business acquaintance to Shoney’s. And she recognized three of the men— Kassim, Raynell, and the Baron’s brother, Thomas. These were probably the rapper’s best pals, and the brother fit the description Millie had given: he was pretty much a toad and had a name starting with an “T”.
    She decided to take a chance— if it paid off, she was the hottest shot in Louisiana. If it didn’t, she didn’t think she’d lost anything.
    She got out her camera and her cell phone, got the number from information, crossed her fingers, and dialed Shoney’s. Someone answered on the fifteenth ring.
    She said, “This is Cassie from Baronial Records. Is Toes in there with the Baron? I’ve got a little emergency here.”
    The employee who answered put the phone down on the counter and went over to the table. She could see just fine, but she couldn’t hear. What did the woman say? Did she say “Is one of you Toes?” or did she say, “Emergency at the office”?
    Oh, who cares?
she thought,
I’ll just photograph them all when they come out.
    But her heart speeded up when the Baron’s brother got up to take the call.
    Could it be this easy? She moved her car, so she’d be in a better position to photograph them when they came out, but even so, she