Actor, writer, filmmaker, creating fantastic stories.
Copyright ©2017 by Creole Gaudet. All rights reserved.
No part of this episode may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system – except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper – without permission in writing from the publisher, Creole Gaudet.
Camilla, set in New Orleans, is the open-ended story of Dillon, a handsome young rock musician on the brink of stardom, who meets Camilla, a beautiful girl from a family of wealth.
Just across the levee, the calliope of the Steamboat Natchez is playing against the warning horn as it paddles away into the sunset.
A small group enjoying a horse and buggy ride down Decatur Street has steered their attention towards a merry bunch of tourists gathered around a troupe of teenage tap dancers and jazz musicians, playing for tips.
A young guy, mid-twenties, takes a pause at the bright green sports coupe parked just outside the Stinky Cheek Bar and Grill. He enters to the sounds of The Neville’s, “Sissy Strut”, blasting from the jukebox. The wooden floors groan under his boot heels as he strides towards his favorite spot, a stool near the open doorway.
“Are you eating, Dillon, or just drinking?”
“Eating.”
“Your usual?”
“With fries, please?”
“Fries too?” She grinned, raking her blonde locks away from her bright blue eyes. “You must have worked up an appetite. Band practice?”
“I’m worn out.”
“You’re going to get there. Keep working. You’ll be a star.”
“Thanks, Crystal.”
He was halfway through his catfish po’ boy when he noticed her.
Strands of her full chestnut mane blew ever so slightly under the slow-spinning ceiling fans. Her thin, shapely figure was hugged by a red, rose colored dress.
She stood at the bar, anxiously waiting as Crystal tended to a customer at the far end. “I need change, please!”
Crystal’s head spun around. “I’ll be with you in a moment!”
Dillon watched as she turned towards the video poker machines near the rear. A chair was leaned against one; the other two had players, and at a side table were a middle-aged couple waiting to get on.
She dug into her purse and removed a bill. She held it high. “I need change, please. I’m playing.”
Crystal’s long, skinny legs hurried towards her. “I can only wait on one person at a time.” She glanced at the hundred. “I don’t have it right now.”
“What do you mean you don’t have it right now?”
“I need my change for later on. It’s Sunday, and in about an hour, lots of people will be coming in. It’s going to get hectic.”
“It’s about to get hectic right now. I’m playing that machine…” She looked back, stealing a peek. “People are waiting on it, and I’ve already lost a lot of money that I’m trying to win back.”
“Sorry, I need my change.”
“Okay, what if I ordered another drink?”
“Nope.” There was a slight moan across the room. “I still don’t have it.”
“What kind of bullshit is this?! Where is your manager?!”
“He’s not here right now.”
“When will he be back?”
“In about a half hour or so.”
“That’ll be too late!”
“Not my problem.” Crystal was filled with spite as she traipsed away. She faced a few bottles before picking up the feather duster.
“I hope he’s getting change for your…lots of people.”
Crystal lowered her pitch. “Poker machines take hundreds.”
“If I’d wanted to play a hundred, I would have played a hundred!”
“You’re going to end up putting it all in there anyway.”
Fire shot from the girl’s eyes. “Bitch!”
Dillon stood, cutting in. “I have it. Hold on.” This drew ire from Crystal. He peeled five twenties off a folded wad he’d retrieved from his front left pocket and handed them to her.
“Thank you so much!” She turned to Crystal as she sexily sashayed away. Her voice trailed behind her. “And you’re a terrible bartender!”
Dillon laughed. “Why are you being so mean, Crystal?”
“I was not being mean. She was rude. I have my regulars to take care of. She’s impatient. Thinks she can get whatever she wants when she wants it.”
“She was about to lose her machine.”
“So… Captain save a ho.”
“You did not just call me… Wow! Here’s one for my tab, and the other is for you.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Twenty dollars better.”
“Ha! Look at you, desperado. You didn’t even finish your sandwich. Go save your ho.”
Dillon approached slowly, taking a lean against the side of the one armed bandit, he watched as the girl dropped her second Andrew into the slot. “How’s it going?”
“I’m about to win.”
“Okay.”
“I am, man! Don’t jinx me!”
“Alright, I’m just asking how it’s going?” He paused, taking a beat. “I’m Dillon. What’s your name?”
“Camilla. Please tell me that you did not come over here to shoot your shot…”
“Whoa! Hold on… Don’t come at me like that.”
She stopped playing. “What do you want, dude?”
“You think I can get that hundred?”
“The hundred?”
“I gave you five twenties…”
“Yeah… What kind of shit are you trying to run?”
“What kind of shit are you trying to run?”
She studied him. “You’re too cute to be a hustler?”
“And you’re about the prettiest hustler I’ve ever seen.”
“Me?” She broke into laughter. “I don’t have to hustle anyone. I can promise you that.”
“I can’t tell. I’ll just say that you were so pissed off at Crystal that you actually forgot.”
“Oh my god! I owe you a hundred-dollar bill!”
Creole Gaudet
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