New Orleans! Page 2

  Whenever Alfie and Emilia started a new adventure, there was always a moment of confusion while Alfie waited for his senses to adjust. In Hong Kong he’d arrived in the middle of a busy sidewalk. This time, he was in the dark—literally. But he could hear music: loud horns, rippling piano, steady drums. It sounded kind of like the jazz they had just been listening to with Zia Donatella, but even more lively.

  As his eyes adjusted, he reached out for Emilia’s hand, relieved to know she was there, too. She always was, but Alfie was still getting used to these trips of Zia’s, and he never knew what to expect.

  Just then, someone rushed by carrying a tray full of steaming-hot food. Alfie and Emilia stepped aside and realized they were in a doorway looking out into some sort of club. Small round tables with little lamps packed the dark space. Many of the tables were empty, but there were a few people dotted around the room, and they all faced the stage. Hot lights lit up five musicians who played the music with their whole bodies, leaning into the piano and drums, swinging their horns, and tapping their feet.

  “New Orleans!” Emilia said.

  “I think so,” Alfie said. He could still feel the heat of Zia’s gumbo on his tongue.

  “They look young.” Emilia pointed to the band. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the wail of the trumpet, which was being played by a boy who looked about their age. The drummer seemed to be their parents’ age, but most of the band were older teenagers or maybe in their early twenties. “And there’s a girl!” Emilia added.

  Sure enough, a girl in cut-off jeans and a black fedora was playing the clarinet.

  “I can’t wait to meet them,” Emilia said. “We’re going to meet them, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Alfie said. They always met someone their own ages when Zia sent them on an adventure, so he figured New Orleans would be no different.

  When one song made its way into the next, the piano player hollered for applause. He seemed to be the leader of the band. When that song was over, they immediately rolled into the next one. This one was about cornbread and butter beans, and it was sung by the piano player. He had a strong, thick voice, and people clapped along as he performed.

  “They even sing about food here,” Alfie said. Emilia nodded and bobbed her head to the music. In the middle of this song, each one of the musicians took a little solo. Alfie paid extra attention to the drummer’s fast beats, tapping his fingers against his legs in rhythm. The crowd applauded after each solo, and Alfie and Emilia joined in.

  “They’re really good!” Emilia said.

  Soon, the music came to an end, and the piano player said, “Thank you! We are the La Salle Royale Band! Come back and see us real soon. Good night!”

  “Come on, let’s go meet them!” Emilia said, leading the way to the side of the stage.

  “What are we going to say?” Alfie asked his sister.

  Emilia thought for a moment. “We can say we’re visiting New Orleans with our school. And that we got separated from them or something.”

  “No,” Alfie said. “Then they might try to help us find our group or take us to the police station.”

  “True,” Emilia said, still thinking.

  “They’re pretty good, aren’t they?” A boy about fifteen or sixteen appeared next to Alfie and nodded toward the stage.

  “Yeah, they were great!” Alfie said.

  “I guess I’m a little biased since they are my family.” The boy laughed. “I’m Rex,” he said.

  “I’m Alfie.” He shook Rex’s hand. “And this is my sister, Emilia.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Rex said. He glanced toward the front of the stage and furrowed his brow. Alfie followed Rex’s gaze. The piano player was talking to an older man. Alfie could tell Rex was straining to hear their conversation. Alfie tried to listen, too.

  “Sorry, Virgil,” the older man said. “We all need to make money.”

  “We just need a little more time,” the young man, Virgil, said.

  “As I told your parents, I can give you till the end of the month,” the man said. “But that’s the best I can do.” He put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “You know how much I love your family, and we all miss Mama Minnie, but . . . if things don’t pick up, there’s nothing more I can do.” Virgil looked down and nodded.

  Rex turned back to Emilia and Alfie, a smile slowly returning to his face. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to my family!”

  Alfie and Emilia grinned. Their adventure was beginning.

  “Nanette!” Rex called to the girl who’d been playing clarinet. “Come meet Alfie and Emilia.”

  Nanette snapped her clarinet case closed and hopped down from the stage, holding her hat as she jumped. “Hi!” she said.

  “That was really great!” Emilia gushed. “We loved your songs.”

  “Thank you.” Nanette looked pleased. “You guys here for Jazz Fest?”

  “Uh, yeah. Yes, Jazz Fest!” Alfie said without thinking.

  “We’re on a school field trip,” Emilia chimed in.

  Alfie elbowed Emilia’s side and gave her a look. He thought they’d decided not to use that story. The last thing he wanted was to end up on the evening news or something. “But our aunt lives here,” he added quickly.

  “Nice,” Nanette said.

  “Are those all your brothers?” Emilia asked, gesturing to the stage.

  “All except for the drummer,” Nanette replied. “He’s a family friend. But the other three are. Four in all, including Rex. Lucky me, right?”

  Just then, the trumpet player hopped down next to Nanette and Rex. Nanette pulled him under her arm and rubbed his head. “But they’re not so bad. Especially this guy. This is my little brother, Theodore. He’s eleven.”

  “It’s Teddy,” the boy said, patting his hair. “And I just turned twelve. Nanette thinks she’s a big shot now that she’s thirteen.”

  Alfie nodded and smirked. “My sister’s one year older, too. I know the feeling.” He liked Teddy already—they both had shortened nicknames and slightly older, slightly annoying sisters.

  “This is Alfie and Emilia,” Rex said.

  “You guys gonna eat dinner with us?” Teddy asked.

  Alfie and Emilia looked at each other.

  “Or is your school group waiting for you?” Nanette asked, glancing around the club. “Where is your school group?”

  “Oh, they already left,” Alfie said. “Our school trip is done, but we’re staying with our aunt this weekend, and she knows where we are.” He hoped he sounded convincing. Zia Donatella did know where they were . . . kind of.

  “Well, if nobody’s waiting for you, you’re welcome to join us. We were just about to head back to the kitchen,” Nanette said.

  “Sure, if that’s okay,” Emilia said.

  “Have you had real New Orleans–style food yet?” Rex asked.

  “Not really,” Alfie said. “We’re definitely ready to try it. We’re hoping to eat our way through New Orleans!”

  “You came to the right place, or the right family, then,” Rex said, leading the way to the kitchen.

  Alfie and Emilia smiled at each other. Everything was going perfectly so far.

  Alfie and Emilia followed their new friends past the doorway where they first arrived and through a swinging door into the kitchen. There was a long rectangular table in the corner near the dish-washing station. It was already piled high with plates of food.

  “Thanks, Gus!” Rex called to one of the cooks. The man nodded and waved a metal serving spoon.

  “The cooks always save leftovers for us,” Nanette told Alfie and Emilia. Alfie wasn’t exactly sure what all the food was, but it looked—and smelled—great.

  As if reading his mind, Rex started pointing out all the dishes. “We’ve got blackened catfish, red beans and rice, collard greens, and cornbread.”
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br />   Just then the two older brothers burst through the kitchen door.

  “We have guests,” Rex told them. “Alfie and Emilia are in town for Jazz Fest, and they want to eat their way through the city.”

  “Welcome to New Orleans. I’m Jules,” said the young man who played the trombone. He grabbed a piece of cornbread and stuffed half of it into his mouth.

  “Short for Julian,” Teddy added. “He’s nineteen, but he acts like he’s the youngest.”

  “Not true,” Jules said through the cornbread. “It’s just that Virgil here is so good at being the old man that I don’t dare take the honor away from him.”

  Virgil gave a half smile, but stayed focused on dishing his plate. Alfie thought he still looked upset from his conversation in front of the stage.

  “Virgil plays piano and also writes some of our songs,” Teddy said.

  “What instrument do you play?” Emilia asked Rex.

  Rex shook his head and finished chewing. “I don’t,” he said. “I tried saxophone like our mom, then I tried drums like our dad, but I just never really got into anything.”

  “Your parents are musicians, too?” Alfie asked.

  “Yep,” Nanette said. “They’ve got a gig on a riverboat right now. Their friend Sam fills in on drums whenever they’re gone.”

  “Where is Sam?” Jules asked. “He’s not eating with us tonight?”

  “Nope,” Teddy said. “He wanted to catch the end of the Trickster Trio’s set.”

  Alfie took a bite of catfish. It was buttery on the inside and crispy on the outside. The thick seasoning coated his tongue with several flavors at once—peppery, sweet, and spicy.

  “So, what do you think of our place?” Teddy said, gesturing around the kitchen.

  “This is your place?” Alfie asked. He had assumed they just played here.

  “Yep. Didn’t you notice our name on the outside of the building when you came in?”

  Alfie just nodded. He couldn’t tell them they hadn’t exactly come in through the front door . . .

  “It’s also our band name and our last name,” said Teddy. “La Salle Royale is the best club in town, serving the best food. Well, it used to be the best . . .”

  “Used to be?” Emilia asked, dishing up a helping of collard greens.

  A sad look came over Teddy’s face. “Our grandmother passed away suddenly last year. She was the cook in the family, and she’s the one who really made a name for us in New Orleans. The band is great and all, but her cooking was really amazing.”

  “I’m sorry about your grandmother,” Emilia said.

  “We miss her so much,” Nanette said. “Our parents travel a lot with their riverboat gigs, and Mama Minnie was always the one who looked after us, especially when we were younger. Now Virgil’s stuck with the job.”

  “Ah, y’all are pretty easy to deal with,” Virgil said.

  “Virgil doesn’t get enough credit,” said Jules. “Not only does he have to look after the family, but he has to deal with Charlie when Mom and Dad are gone.”

  “Who’s Charlie?” Alfie asked. He scooped up a heap of red beans and rice. It had a creamy, slightly spicy taste that warmed him all the way down to his toes. Zia was right—this was comfort food.

  “Charlie owns this building,” Virgil said. “We lease the space for our club from him.”

  “No offense to Gus or anything, but no one can cook like Mama Minnie did,” Nanette said. “So, since she passed away, things just haven’t been the same here.”

  Alfie thought about all the empty tables he saw when they first arrived.

  “We’ll be fine,” Virgil said. “We always are.”

  Alfie stabbed a bite of collard greens with his fork. “Are her recipes hard to follow or something?” The greens were salty and surprisingly juicy, with bits of bacon adding a chewy texture. It tasted great!

  “Following a recipe isn’t necessarily the problem,” Teddy said. “If you give three trumpet players the same sheet of music and ask them to play, you’ll hear three different versions of the same song. Same with cooking—that’s what Mama Minnie used to say. But following a recipe doesn’t matter, because she never wrote anything down. No one will ever know what made her red beans and rice so great.” He looked down at his plate.

  “Well, we’ve got to figure out some way to bring people back to the club,” said Virgil. “If we can’t . . . good-bye La Salle Royale.”

  “I can’t even think about our place becoming a Cozy Creole.” Nanette shook her head.

  “What’s a Cozy Creole?” Alfie asked. He was already on his second piece of cornbread. He used the crumbly, buttery bread to scoop up the rest of the beans and rice on his plate. He couldn’t help himself. He glanced at Emilia, expecting her to tell him to slow down, but she was just as busy finishing off her piece of catfish. It was hard to imagine feeling disappointed about this food. Alfie thought it was amazing!

  “Cozy Creole is a chain restaurant. Charlie plans on leasing the space to them if things don’t pick up,” Rex said. “The food is nothing close to what Mama Minnie used to make. Hers was the real deal.” Rex pushed his plate away and sighed. “If only I’d started writing her recipes down when she was teaching me to cook. I just didn’t expect her not to be around . . .”

  Everyone nodded in quiet agreement.

  “Finish up, y’all,” Virgil said, breaking the silence. “We need to get home.”

  “Yeah, your aunt’s probably wondering where you are,” Rex said to Alfie and Emilia. “You okay to get to her place on your own? Where does she live?”

  Alfie hadn’t thought this far ahead. Luckily, Emilia spoke up.

  “We can get there,” she said. “She’s not home right now—she works late hours. But, um, she’ll be there later.”

  “Will you guys be okay on your own?” Virgil asked.

  “Yeah, it’s not a big deal,” Alfie said, trying to sound casual. But he was already wondering where they might go.

  “Because you’re welcome to come to our house until she gets home,” Virgil said.

  “Maybe they should just stay the night since it’s already kind of late?” Teddy said.

  “Well, if it’s okay with their aunt,” said Virgil. “Honestly, I’d rather you stay with us than be on your own half the night.”

  “Maybe we can call her and ask if it’s okay?” Emilia said to Alfie, giving him a look.

  “Yeah, I’ll call her,” Alfie said.

  “You can use the phone on the wall,” Teddy said.

  Alfie wasn’t sure what he was going to do!

  He picked up the receiver and kept his back to the table as he punched in a bunch of random numbers. He pressed the “disconnect” bar just as someone actually said “hello.” Then he started talking.

  “Hello! Aunt Donatella. Yeah, it’s Alfie. Um, we’re at La Salle Royale and we just—you know the place? Yeah, it’s awesome. So, since you’re working late, Virgil La Salle said we could crash with them tonight. Is that okay? Great! Okay, we’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  Suddenly, Virgil was standing behind Alfie. “Can I talk to her?” he asked.

  “Okay. Thanks, Aunt Donatella. Bye!” Alfie quickly hung up the phone. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

  Virgil frowned and said, “I just wanted to talk to her, give her our address and everything. Want to call her back?”

  “Nah, she’s cool,” Alfie said, walking back to the table.

  “So, it’s set!” Teddy said. “You’re staying with the La Salle Royale Band!”

  The walk to the La Salle family house took them along the lively streets of the French Quarter. Alfie loved the rows of beautiful buildings with decorative wrought iron balconies. He tried to picture Zia Donatella dancing all night on one of them.

  They passed by street musicians and dancers with taps on t
he bottoms of their shoes. Large crowds had gathered to watch them all perform. People were clapping and hollering and really getting into the music. One of the dancers, who was taking a break just outside the circle, waved as they passed. “Hey, Virgil!” he called out. “Happy Jazz Fest!”

  It was hard for Alfie to imagine a scene like that in his town. Zia Donatella was right—there was plenty of adventure to be had even in his own country! As they continued through the city, the noise of people and music fell away to a quiet residential vibe. They entered the La Salles’ neighborhood, passing Washington Square Park.

  Rex gestured to the park. “After Hurricane Katrina, we helped set up a free community kitchen here. Luckily our neighborhood wasn’t hit as bad as a lot of the others, so we wanted to help out however we could. Mama Minnie worked night and day cooking for people out here. Virgil and Jules helped serve the food.”

  Alfie nodded. “That’s really nice.” He didn’t really remember Hurricane Katrina, but they definitely had learned about it in school.

  They kept walking past a big four-lane street with fresh green grass running down the center.

  “Alfie, look,” Emilia said, pointing to the street sign. “It’s called Elysian Fields Avenue. It kind of reminds me of that big, famous street in Paris—Champs-Élysées. Am I crazy?”

  “Probably,” Alfie teased.

  “No, she’s right,” Nanette chimed in. “It’s not as fancy here, but this street is named after the one in Paris. Even the name of our neighborhood, Faubourg Marigny, is French. Faubourg means suburb and Marigny is the name of a rich Creole man who settled here a long, long time ago. New Orleans has lots of cool history, if you’re into things like that.”

  “I definitely am!” Emilia beamed.

  They crossed Elysian Fields, and right on the corner at Dauphine Street was the La Salle home. It was a big two-story white house with an upper balcony and a huge front porch. Virgil unlocked the door and let them all in.

  Wide-plank wooden floorboards creaked under their feet as they walked into the foyer. A curving staircase led up to the second floor. Alfie thought it looked like something out of an old movie. There were family pictures on every wall and surface—including on an upright piano in the living room, which led into a huge kitchen.