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helmet that Lily handed him and slid it onto his head. He latched it beneath his chin, nodded once more to them both, and then started up the motorcycle.
    Tabitha and Lily stood side by side as Daniel roared out of the lot and disappeared into the night. Then Tabitha whirled on Lily. “Girl, tell me he didn’t try nothin’ on you.”
    Lily blinked at her friend. “What?” She looked at her incredulously. “Tabby, we didn’t even stop! We just rode! He was a perfect gentleman and a very good rider.”
    Tabitha eyed her for a moment more and then blew out a sigh.
    Lily sighed as well. “Okay, what’s going on? Don’t think I didn’t notice the warning look you shot him before I got on the bike. I see people pull all kinds of body language with each other in my line of work. What is it you’ve got against your brother having anything to do with me?”
    It was Tabitha’s turn to look shocked. But then her shock melted into guilt and she threw up her hands in defeat. “Okay, okay. You’re right. I’m sorry. I just know what a damned man whore that boy is and I don’t want him to do somethin’ to you that comes between us. That’s all.”
    Lily eyed her warily. There was something in the depths of Tabitha’s hazel eyes that looked suspiciously like a secret. She didn’t want to let the subject drop, but she could tell Tabitha wouldn’t talk about it any further. Not tonight.
    “Fine,” Lily let it go. For now. “I understand.” A wind picked up and rustled the Spanish moss dangling from the oaks overhead. She hugged herself, feeling unusually cold. “Let’s head inside and I’ll make us some tea.” She turned to lead the way back to the porch door. “I think a storm’s coming.”
    “I think so, too,” Tabitha agreed.
    As Lily entered the house, she glanced back to find her friend looking over her shoulder toward the dark road where Daniel had disappeared. She gazed down that ribbon of black as if expecting the very devil to come walking back down it.

C hapter Three: By The Book
    Lily rolled over quietly and peered out the window. The storm had come and gone, as Louisiana storms were want to do in early June. This time of year the gales were quick and dirty and green with heat lightning. They lit up the sky like electric temper tantrums, dumped a million gallons of water on the bayou and then ran away, sated and silent, leaving a sticky, humid swamp buzzing in their wake.
    Now, the moon was three-quarters full and illuminated the rolling grass lawn of Tabitha’s house with a blue glow. If Lily concentrated and squinted her eyes, she could just make out the on and off flashing of a few, precious lightning bugs – or, fireflies – within the darkness of the hedges that bordered Tabitha’s land. There weren’t as many as there used to be, it seemed. Their population was changing, along with everything else in the South.
    Lily sighed. She couldn’t sleep. She’d been laying there for hours, her body unnaturally hot and then cold, her nerve endings so alive that she’d kicked off all of the covers long ago. She’d been thinking about her return to Baton Rouge.
    A lot can happen in a short period of time – and Lily had been gone for a rather long period of time. Within that decade-long spell, the towers had come down in New York, a war had been started, and a hurricane had ripped through Louisiana, forever changing the face of a state once known only for its Zydeco and Crawfish, its gospel hymns and Boudin.
    Lily thought back to her discussion with Tabitha earlier that night as she gazed out at the heated mist now rising from the cut grass and forming dew. She had to admit that, though she was glad to be back in the lap of liberal Southern kindness, she was just as bowled over by the changes as she was grateful for what had stayed the same.
    There used to be a playhouse on College Drive where Lily and her friends paid $15 a piece every Friday night to watch really good and really poor actors