Romans & histoires New Orleans Slang

A man's voice, dripping with disdain, muttered words that barely registered in my mind, "What's her problem?" Suddenly, a surge of awareness jolted me back to reality. I quickly scanned my surroundings, my senses sharpening. My gaze landed on a stranger who stood before me, wearing a leering expression. His words came out in a crude manner, using slang that was usually reserved for the lower depths of society. "Hey there, cupcake, let's go dance," he said, his audacity sparking a flicker of defiance within me.

New Orleans, Louisiana. At the famous Bourbon Street, where people often find men and women celebrating with whiskey in clasped in their hands, clinking glasses can be heard even from the ones living in the second story building. There was this special day were people would walk and dance in the middle of the street with masks filled with purple, gold, and silver glitter, some even wear purple necklaces and carry skulls that ensemble the voodoo that highly represents the city. Those people who lived upstairs would throw purple and silver jewelry at them from their patios and dance along. Those restaurants they used to go to in the afternoons were astounding. Especially when you eat their spe

Jimmy stopped looking about and gave Vince his full attention. “This is a Vèvè,” said Vince, pointing at the flour pattern. “To summon the Orisha Elegguá, Lord of the Crossroads, opener of doors.” “Is an Orisha like a Loa?” “Yes, but they come from Africa, not Haiti. Elegguá manifests both as a child and an old man. You need a child’s curiosity to find the city beneath the city, but you need an old man’s wisdom to walk its streets.”

He almost sounded genuinely offended. “Sneak, then?” I pulled up the thesaurus on my phone just to be extra petty. “Oh, here we go: how about snoop? Wait, creep is a good one. You’ve definitely been creeping. A creep who’s been sneakily skulking in my library—” Olivier said something in what I presumed to be French, ruffling his hair as he sifted his fingers through it. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”

I listened with half an ear to the men as they talked about their new 'squad' at least that's what Lyon had decided to call it since as he says organization sounds too much like law enforcement and he hates any f*ck that has to do with that f*ckery. His vocabulary is even more colorful than Gideon's, and my brother has got a fine grasp on gutter speak.

“What happened to your friend who was going to drop you?” Mia shook her head, fixing her seatbelt, and I forced my eyes above her neck. Her white shirt had gotten wet from the rain. I didn’t have an extra jacket or a blanket in the car to give her. “She is going to his house for studies.” “Is that the new slang you use?” “Slang?” “Yes, like N*****x and chill. Studies and chill?” Mia’s soft chuckle echoed in the car as rain continued to patter outside as I slowly drove us to her house.

"New Orleans?" "Yep! It's beautiful, Kate. It's like something out of a dream. The streets are cobbled and alive, the buildings have that French charm, and at night the city lights feel like you're walking through music. Jazz spills from every alleyway. I swear, it's magic. It's so beautiful." I smiled, closing my eyes for a moment to imagine it. Rhea twirling in a flowy dress on a humid New Orleans street. Liam chasing her with a camera. Laughter echoing off the brick walls. Freedom. Joy. A life she deserved. A life I deserved also.

I rolled my eyes. "I see you have mouth now, let's go I'm using my break. I need to get back to work. " He didn't wait for my reply as he strode to his truck and got in and started driving. They didnt need to tell me twice before I quickly got in my car and followed him. Alhamdullilah, I didn't get lost today. Ode-fool Oponu-stupid Shey-its like a Yoruba slang used in place of right?

“We hit ’em here—Plaque mine stronghold. It’s their blood supply and their message hub. Cut it off, and they’re deaf and starvin’.” Odessa stood behind him, crimson coat trailing like blood. “Not without numbers. I’ll take two squads to New Orleans tonight. There are old clans in the tunnels. They owe me favors.” Claude grinned, his gold tooth flashing. “Guess I’ll wrangle the swamp folk. Never thought I’d be shakin’ hands with half the bastards I’m fixin’ to, but war makes strange bedfellows.” As Odessa and Claude departed, the safehouse grew quiet. Rio stood on the balcony, watching torches flicker in the camp below.

“Nothing.” “What did you just say?” “I said nothing!” She laughed and held her hands out. “Don’t start or you’ll disturb her.” “Right,” I grumbled. “First night in fuckin’ New Orleans after hours on the road and I’m on goddamn babysittin’ duty.” “Oh, poor thing. Did you want to go and experience the NOLA life?” “Would you have come with me?” I glanced at her over my shoulder and picked up the room phone. I reeled off an order for some beer and a bottle of wine.