The Scandalous Summer of Sissy Leblanc [antikvár]

when you get to he a certain age, you realize that the only thing you have time for is doing exactly what you want. Rule Number Fifty-six The Southern Belle's Handbook ProJ J« Sissy stepped into the main terminal of the New Orleans airport and was captured by that Louisiana aroma that encircled her memory and swept her back in time. On the flight from Washington, she thought she'd been prepared. But she'd forgotten the smell of bourbon and Coca-Cola that permeated the airport even at ten in the morning. In the recycled air, it mixed with the dank, sensual smell of oysters on the half-shell and invaded her very pores. The scent carried her back to that summer almost fifty years ago that ended when Peewee LeBlanc walked into the Paradise Lost and saw her sitting on Parker Davidson's lap and went out to buy himself a gun. It had been a real hot morning. But that's already redundant. If you know anything about summer in Louisiana you know that the heat, moist and heavy, presses down on the pavement until it sends up shimmering mirages, and lovers, looking for a little noontime solace, stick to one another in high-ceilinged bedrooms. But the bar was cool, especially after a couple of tall glasses of bourbon and Coke over cracked ice.