Prologue

Vayla

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The low hum of the office projector swallowed the usual Monday morning chatter, a dull mechanical drone that felt heavier than it should’ve. It buzzed from somewhere above us, vibrating through the fluorescent lights and settling into my bones like a low-grade headache. I tapped my pen against the margin of my notebook, the repetitive click the only thing keeping me awake. Staying up late to finish a report no one would thank me for suddenly felt like a personal attack.

I glanced around the conference room. Half-lidded eyes. Slouched shoulders. Coffee cups clutched like lifelines. The air smelled faintly of burnt espresso and printer ink, a scent I’d come to associate with routine, deadlines, and the slow erosion of joy.

“All right, team,” Mr. Hawkins said, clapping his hands once, sharp, and decisive. The sound cut through the haze like a gavel. He leaned back against the conference table, crossing his arms, his expression unreadable. That was never a good sign. “I’ve got a last-minute assignment.”

A collective groan rippled through the room.

“We need two people to head to Mobile, Alabama next week for a client event,” he continued. “Short notice, but important.”

Mobile. I blinked. The word floated in the air, unfamiliar and oddly heavy.

A ripple of unease moved through the room. Someone sighed loudly. Another person flipped open their calendar with exaggerated annoyance. I glanced down at my own planner. It was color-coded, overstuffed, and already teetering on the edge of a  burnout. Travel wasn’t on my agenda. Not this week. Not ever, if I was being honest. Then my best friend, Genesis Phillips shot out of her seat like she’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“I’ll go,” she said, voice bright, posture confident. “I’m from Mobile. I know the city. I can handle it.”

Of course she was. Genesis was like that. She was quick on her feet, unafraid of the spotlight, and  the kind of person who leaned into opportunity instead of sidestepping it. Her energy alone could wake the dead. She wore her confidence like a well-tailored blazer: effortless, intentional, and impossible to ignore. Before anyone else could react, before Mr. Hawkins could even nod, Genesis turned in her chair and locked eyes with me.

“And Vayla should come with me,” she added smoothly. “She’s sharp, she doesn’t complain, and she’ll actually make sure the work gets done.”

I froze. The room went quiet. Too quiet. Every head turned in my direction. I opened my mouth to protest. I had plans to rest, recover, and quietly exist without disruption. I’d already mentally mapped out my lunches for the week. Traveling meant packing, schedules, small talk, and being on when all I wanted was to disappear for a few days.

But instead of objecting, instead of listing every reasonable excuse I had, I nodded.

“Sure,” I heard myself say. “I can go.”

Genesis grinned like she’d just won something.

“Perfect,” she said, already standing. “Pack your bags. You’re about to see my city the right way.”

Something about the way she said it made my stomach flutter.

 

The following week arrived faster than I expected.

One moment I was folding clothes with mild resentment, and the next I was rolling my suitcase through the glass  doors of the Renaissance Mobile Riverview Hotel. The polished floors gleamed beneath soft ambient lighting, reflecting crystal chandeliers and muted gold accents. The place smelled like citrus cleaner and quiet luxury, the kind that whispered instead of shouted.

It was far more upscale than anything I’d   for myself, but the job was footing the bill, so I swallowed my guilt and let myself enjoy it. Genesis breezed through check-in like she owned the place. I followed, dragging my suitcase behind me, eyes darting from the marble counters to the massive windows overlooking the water.

When the elevator doors slid open onto our floor, Genesis swiped the keycard and stepped aside.

“Go ahead,” she said, smiling knowingly.

I dropped my bag and went straight for the window. The city stretched out beneath me layered, glowing, and alive. The river shimmered in the distance, reflecting the early evening sky, while lights flickered on one by one like the city was slowly waking up. A massive cruise ship sat docked nearby, its lights twinkling like a floating city of its own.

“Is that a Carnival cruise ship?” I asked, pressing closer to the glass.

“Probably,” Genesis said casually. “They dock here all the time.”

I didn’t move. Something about the view tightened my chest, like I was standing on the edge of something bigger than a work trip. Something unknown. Something that made my pulse quicken. I didn’t know what Mobile had in store for me yet, but I had the distinct feeling it wasn’t going to be boring.

 

The work event itself blurred together in a haze of seminars, polite smiles, handshakes, and name tags. I nodded when expected, scribbled notes, and smiled until my cheeks ached. Genesis worked the room effortlessly, laughter trailing behind her like a signature. By the time we made it back to the hotel lobby, my feet throbbed and my brain buzzed.

“I’m not ready to call it a night,” I admitted. “There’s gotta be something to do around here.”

Genesis tapped her chin thoughtfully. Before she could answer, the receptionist leaned forward, her Southern drawl warm and melodic.

“You know what y’all should do?” she said. “The Mardi Gras tree lighting is tonight. It’s right across the street in the park. You really don’t wanna miss it.”

Genesis’ eyes lit up.

“Oh my God,” she said. “I forgot that was tonight. That settles it. We’re going.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Tree lighting?”

“Mardi Gras,” Genesis said like that explained everything.

I imagined something quaint. A few lights. Maybe a small crowd.

I was wrong.

 

Mardi Gras Park was alive. A brass band commanded the stage. There were two trumpets, two saxophones, a trombone, and drummers whose rhythm pulsed straight through the soles of my shoes. The music wasn’t just loud; it was alive. It moved people. It demanded participation.

The crowd spilled into every open space. People were dancing, laughing, swaying with drinks raised high. Children darted through the crowd clutching glow sticks, their laughter piercing and free. Adults leaned into the night like they had nowhere else to be.

Food trucks lined the street, their windows glowing. The air was thick with the scent of fried food, sweet, powdered sugar, sizzling meat, and spice. Smoke curled into the night sky. Somewhere close, wings sizzled, the aroma rich and irresistible. We grabbed tacos wrapped in foil and a basket of wings dripping with sauce. We ate standing up, licking our fingers, laughing between bites.

This wasn’t a gathering. It was a celebration. When the mayor took the stage, her voice barely cut through the excitement.

“Tonight,” she said, “we honor a tradition centuries old. Mardi Gras began here in Mobile. And tonight, we light the tree to mark the official start of the season. Laissez les bons temps rouler! Let the good times roll!”

The crowd erupted. The tree ignited in a burst of purple, green, and gold. Thousands of lights shimmered as confetti rained down like metallic snow, catching in hair, on shoulders, and in the folds of jackets. My breath left me all at once.

Genesis nudged me. “Told you. You’re gonna want to come back for the weekend before Fat Tuesday. Friday through Tuesday. It’s magic.”

I laughed, caught in the rhythm, my body moving without permission.

Somewhere between the brass notes and the glow of the lights, something shifted in my chest. I hadn’t said it out loud yet, but I felt it. I was hooked.

And as the city hummed around me, daring and bright, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Mobile wasn’t just welcoming me. It was inviting me to stay, to feel, and to fall into something I never saw coming.