"You forget, darlin'. The Quarter lives on tourist money. Not many places will turn business away just because they aren't dressed right."

With that, he led the way into the restaurant's cool interior.

Liz still felt slightly ill at ease as she surveyed the rows of tables with their spotless tablecloths and more than spotless waiters. It certainly looked like an upscale place.

"Boo-ray! What brings you out in the daylight?"

One of the waiters swept down on them, pumping Boo's hand vigorously with one hand while pounding him on the back with the other.

"Hey, Jimmy. Just showing the young lady here a bit of the Quarter," Boo said. "She wanted to see the most overrated restaurant we've got, so naturally I brought her here."

"I'm going to tell Pete you said that," the man said, hastily seating them at a window table. "You just sit here while I go tell him you're out here."

"Say, Jimmy. Before you do," Boo beckoned the man closer, "could you do me a little favor? Call Michelle across the street and tell her to give the couple that just came in special treatment. She can't miss them; the lady has bright green hair. Tell her particularly to pull the explanation sheet out of their menus."

Jimmy retreated, grinning.

"I take it you're known here," Liz said.

"I drop by once in a while," Boo said with a shrug. "Like I told you, most folks in the Quarter know each other."

"What was that bit with the `special treatment' for Lloyd and Fionna?"

"Don't you want them to have a nice meal?" Boo's face was a picture of innocence.

"Don't be evasive, Boo," Liz insisted. "We're supposed to be working together, remember?"

"Well, I believe I mentioned that Lucky Chang's was different. Well, it's not the Chinese/Cajun menu that makes it different."

"Could you clarify that a bit? What is it about the place that requires an explanation sheet?"

"Mostly, it's the help. Did you get a look at them at all?"

"Just a glimpse, but they all seemed to be attractive young ladies."

"You're right. That's what they seem."

Liz frowned, then her face brightened with a mischievous smile.

"You mean..."

Boo nodded.

"That's right. The waitstaff may look female. In actuality, though, they're some of the most practiced cross-dressers and drag queens in the Quarter. I think it could get downright interestin' if your friend Lloyd makes an after-hours date with one of 'em."

They were still sharing the laugh when a black-haired cook dressed in a crisp, white apron emerged from the swinging doors and approached their table.

"Hey, Boo! Where y'at?"

"Pete, how many times have I got to tell you that you'll never get that `yat' accent down well enough to convince anyone?"

He quickly introduced Liz, who was still chortling.

"So, what can I get you folks to eat?"

"Actually, we haven't seen a menu yet."

"Shucks, Liz," Boo put in. "Just tell Pete here what you feel like eatin', and if he can't cobble it together in that kitchen of his, he'll just order out for it."

Suddenly the tensions of the morning slid away from Liz, and she realized she was ravenously hungry.

"You know," she said, "I think what I'd really like is some of the hot Cajun cooking I keep hearing about."

"Darlin', Gen do that for you in a flash," Pete said, charmingly. "How does a bowl of gumbo sound?"

"Make that two," Boo said. "And be sure to make mine extra-extra spicy."

"Mine too!" Liz nodded. "Extra-extra!"

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Boo asked as the cook disappeared into his realm. "I though you British liked your food kinda bland."

"Don't believe everything you hear," Liz said with a smile. "Haven't you ever heard of the English Raj? We invented vindaloo curries. I believe there's more Indian restaurants than Continental in London today. And lately Thai food has been all the rage in England. We adore hot spices."

"Well, all right, ma'am."

True to her word, when the food arrived, she proclaimed it delicious and finished every drop, though in actuality she found it a little disappointing. There wasn't enough spice in the mix to raise a sweat. Still, she felt it would have hurt the cook's feelings to complain or add seasoning, as he had hovered over their table anxiously through the whole meal. Both he and Boo watched her as though they expected her to burst into flames. They looked almost sorry that she didn't seem discomfited. It would have been rude if she hadn't reacted, so she fanned her face with her hand.

"Oh, my," she said, echoing one of her elderly aunts who, it would have astonished both men to know, had lived in India with her army officer husband, and had come home from her years abroad with a book of curry recipes and a trunkful of chilies. Both men relaxed, satisfied, and Liz, with a secret smile, finished her lunch.

Walking back to the hotel, she found herself in a surprisingly pleasant mood. Lunch, with the jokes and the prank on Lloyd, had left her feeling well-fed and relaxed. Even the heat didn't seem as oppressive now. She mentioned as much to Boo, and enjoyed watching his ready laugh.

"It's the Big Easy," he said as he held the door into the hotel lobby. "That's why they call it `the city that care forgot.' Once you get into the pace of things down here, you can just kind of float along and believe that whatever happens, it will all be all right."

"Speaking of that, " Liz said, looking around, "didn't Lloyd say they were going to meet us here after lunch?"

Boo-Boo shrugged. "Well, `after lunch' isn't really a precise time down here. Hang on a second and I'll check with the desk to see if they left a message."

Despite the fact that she had just eaten, Liz found herself idly studying the posted menu for the hotel restaurant as she waited. It was extensive and delightfully varied. She guessed that Boo was right. Eating really was a major pastime down here, and the more you got into the pace of things...

"Sorry, darlin', but we've got problems," Boo declared, materializing at her elbow. "We've got to get over to the Superdome fast."

He had her out the front door and into a taxi before she could collect her wits.

"What is it?" she asked, following in his wake. "Was there a message?"

"They didn't bother to leave one for us," Boo said grimly, "but the desk clerk remembered the message that came in for Lloyd and Fionna. It seems that one of Fionna's costumes burst into flames. This time it was on stage in front of half the crew and the band."

Liz and Boo pushed their way into the mob of people crowding the barrier set up by the firefighters across the rear entrance to the Superdome. Three fire trucks, surrounded by miles of unreeled hose, flashed their revolving lights weakly in the oppressive New Orleans sunshine. An equal number of chunky white vans bearing parabolic dishes on top announced the arrival of the media. Reporters were clustered to one side by a police officer, but it was clear the cordon wouldn't last long.

Liz and Boo showed their backstage passes to the sweating security guard at the door. Very reluctantly, he let them crawl underneath the barrier, while shouldering aside a couple of rabid fans with cameras who tried to follow. After the press of the crowd, the soaring, concrete room seemed cavernously empty, all the better to pick up the noises coming from far down the passage. The roar of voices behind them grew louder. Liz spun on her heel.

"Oh, no," Liz groaned, as the media came jogging toward the entrance, turning the cameras their way. "We don't need this."

"Cheer up," Boo said, waving to the reporters over the security guards' heads. "You can tell your mama you were on American television."