And so it begins...

The rain came down fiercely flooding the street, the young limo driver listening to the radio watched the drops slowly trickle down the windshield as he sang along to Elton Johns Rocket Man. The car was parked in an open lot in the middle of a Lousianna shopping mall looking rather inconspicuous.
His phone rings, lighting up the cab of the car, he whispers "finally" to himself.
"Yes sir", the driver answers the phone trying his best to sound older and professional.
"Mr. Jones would like to be picked up at St. Charles in 20 minutes", the voice was instructive and all business, the limo driver responded with another "yes sir" as he hung up and started the car in a single motion.
It took him less than 5 minutes to pull up to the hotel where he expected his passenger to arrive. The Night Stand Inn was a local place situated in the nicest part of St. Charles Street, quite small with an old district design, but it had been renovated recently and has brought in a higher class of clientele as a result.
Though it was customary for a driver to step out of the car in anticipation of their guest's arrival to open the door, in this rain the driver knew he would be soaked instantly, so he waited until the approaching man was almost to the car before opening the driver side door to get out.
"That's quite alright son, I see no reason for us both to drown in this here devils water", the man's accent thick with a Mississippi slang quickly opened the car door for himself and jumped in the back seat as the young man retreated back to the driver's seat thankful he would avoid getting drenched.
"I know I should be used to this southern weather but I'll tell you what, no matter how many times I get drenched by this Bayou piss it never ceases to amaze me how quickly it come down.", the man laughed at his own joke, but the limo driver gave little more than a courtesy smile before asking for a destination. "Where to sir", the young man asked.
"New Orleans and let's not spare the rod, I need to be on Bourbon Street before the bars close", the figure in the back seat leaned back and pulled out his cell phone. "If you don't mind son, I would like some privacy", the passenger spoke while looking into the rearview mirror to catch the driver's eyes. "yes sir" the driver replied as he rolled up the soundproof, tinted divider.
Mr. Jones dialed the number manually, awkwardly fingering his iPhone like it was the first time he had ever used it while muttering under his breath "Nothing I hate more than these blasted modern devices, I'll tell you what".
The phone rang several times before the sweet sounds of Cajun southern swing graced the ear of Mr. Jones. "Jack you red devil son of a bitch, to what do I owe the pleasure", the youthful voice brought a smile Mr. Jone's crooked face.
"Emile, your voice has the tender touch of a women, I could swear every time I hear it I get an erection", They both had a hearty and extended laugh at Emile's expense. He was used to it, only 20 years old when he was turned kindred, in some ways, it's a blessing to be immortal and young, but it was a never-ending opportunity for friends and enemies alike to take a swipe at him and Emile knew that Jack Jones had probably spent a good 20 minutes coming up with that one.
"You remember a few years back when I told you that one day I would come down to New Orleans for a drink and make all your dreams come true?", it was a rhetorical question and Jack expected no answer. "Well today is that day my friend. I'm in a Limo heading for Bourban street and it's about time we had that drink".
Emile was somewhat startled, he had always hoped that his connections in Mississippi, Connecticut, Milwaukee or at least New Orleans would pay off, but as the decades passed, he started to wonder if any of it would ever add up to anything. Jack Jones was one of his hopefuls from the Bayou, a well-connected kindred with an exceptionally uncanny ability to collect information and a talent for fucking up frequently enough to wind up in Emile's pocket. Taking a moment to read between the lines, Emile knew that this was either the payoff or another clean-up job.
"If I was a betting man, and I am, I'm guessing you fucked up again and need a favor, so how about you spare yourself some embarrassment and just tell me what you need", Emile had enough bullshit to deal with this week, he didn't have any desire to babysit a visiting vampire from the swamps, so he approached the situation with some classy passive aggression.
The line was quiet for a moment and now Emile was smiling, Jack Jones was good at making jokes when he had time to work them out in advance, but he was no Jonny on the spot. "Now now, that is no way to speak to a man that holds your golden egg, I'm not coming for any favors, I'm coming to wipe my ledger clean, you hear".
Emile gave it a moment, was this really it, years of work coming together in a single phone call.
"I don't suppose you want to give me a sneak peek at what you have?" Emile asked choosing his words carefully.
"Ah, I see I have your attention. Well, seeing as I got nothing else to do but sit in this here car, I suppose I could offer you a little tidbit or two", Jack's attempt at building suspense did little more than annoy Emile but he had no choice but to play along.
"Let's have it", Emile said bluntly.
"You remember that black girl named Erzulie you were so fond of back in 68", Jack asked with a grin you could hear over the phone. Emile unabashedly responded, "of course I do".
"Well she took her Blood Disco out to Chicago and she's been laying down some groundwork for a few years now. Apparently, she's been very successful and word is that the prince of that city is about as useful as tits on a bull. Now the way I see it the timing is ripe and all we need now is an operator", Jack took his time as he spoke, stretching the words.
Emile knew there was far more to the story, but he also knew Jack wouldn't tip his entire hand here and now. "So what's the hiccup", Emile asked, there was a catch, there is always a catch, he figured Jack would at least give him that.
"Word travels fast and there are a few dicks in the barrel", Jack had been waiting to use that one for a long time. "From what I hear, The Turncoats are already sniffing around the goods, whatever time you have, it's not going to be much", Jack finished.
Emile knew that Jack was looking to make a score, he would hold out the important stuff until they met in person. He'll be expecting to get wine and dined long before he tells him anything useful, it was fairly certain at this point he got everything he was going to get over the phone. It was time to turn on the southern charm.
"The champagne is on ice, I will have some pretty girls for you to play with and of course you'll stay with me in the finest establishment New Orleans has to offer. I do hope you are ready for an old southern boys party", Emile laid it on thick.
"Well that is more like it, I will see you in a few hours", Jack hung up the phone.
"And so it begins....."