“Just realized that if my client takes any of the properties I’m going to show him, I’ll meet my quarterly goal.”
“Niiiiice.” That was from Donna who sat a few feet in the opposite direction. “You are en fuego this year.”
“I’m all about that life,” I said and laughed when Dave mimed making it rain with cash.
“So you don’t mind having Miles Crowe now?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” He hadn’t recognized me. He hadn’t been the diva I’d expected him to be. And getting him into a French Quarter property would make Brenda happy and make me look good. And of course, the math said it would be worthwhile.
And did I really want to give Crescent City Properties a black eye by forcing him to drop me?
“I need to head out and do some research.” I gathered up my bag and waved to Brenda on the way out. One of the things I liked best about my job was that because I was a commission-only independent agent, I didn’t have to report to anyone about how I spent my time. We often had to head out for client meetings and property checks. If I wanted to waste my time by not being productive, I was only hurting me. But I wasn’t a time-waster. I protected my Sundays fiercely, but the other six days of the week, I was hustling. Why let Miles stop me now?
I parked on Chartres and walked to the Quarter, sitting on a bench in Jackson Square to listen to the young men busking for money while I considered possible sites for Miles’s club. It was late spring, the perfect time for tourists to come to New Orleans, and plenty of them milled around the square or stopped to listen.
I was sure a lot of the tourists wondered if they might be seeing the next Trombone Shorty or Kermit Ruffins, but most of them didn’t have an ear to discern the good stuff from the great.
These kids were good, though. Most of the ones who played down here were. They had to be to hustle for money in a city full of so much talent. One drummed on an upturned plastic five-gallon bucket, the percussion of choice for street musicians. Another one was on trumpet, and the third played melodica, a quirky combination of harmonica and keyboard. They were doing a cut from the soundtrack of a Pixar film that had been scored by Jon Batiste himself, a native son who had done the city proud.
Eventually, I turned my attention to the streets leading from the square into other parts of the Quarter, mentally running down each one and considering the vibe. I got what Miles had meant by that. You could get a vibe from a building or a block or a whole city. The Quarter had a personality distinctly different from the Bywater, but even the Quarter’s individual streets had a different feel from each other.
Bourbon Street was out of the question. It was as commercial in its own way as the actual business district was, but with a grittier coating and a pervasive cigar-and-spilled-beer smell. It was always the most packed once tourist season started hopping during Mardi Gras, and locals stayed away. I might not respect Miles’s pop career much, but he wasn’t opening a pop club, which would work perfectly on Bourbon.
A jazz club...Royal Street was okay. Mostly antique stores, and Chartres was mainly historic townhomes with wrought iron balconies and plantation shutters. But St. Philips was a possibility. Or even Governor Nicholls.
Then again, Miles had come up through Starstruck, so he might like how commercial Bourbon was. It definitely had name recognition going for it, and it might appeal to him.
I rose and walked to the different properties I was considering. You could drive in the Quarter, but it was hardly worth it between the potholes and the drunk tourists always staggering into the street. I wasn’t sure which was more annoying. I took pictures and made notes at each vacant site before calling it a day.
I swung by BB King’s Blues Club on the way back to my car and stopped to consider it. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d gone out and heard live music, which was stupid considering I was surrounded by it most evenings.
I hurried to my car and drove home, smiling when I spotted Chloe’s red sedan in its parking spot behind our building.