by Cora Kenborn
“Don’t you dare die on me,” I screamed while trying my best to perform the piggy Heimlich. With a hack and a wet cough, a ball of something slimy and brown fell from his mouth and into my lap.
Gross.
Kevin squirmed and snorted unhappily in my arms until I released my death grip and allowed him to move back to his nest.
“Ungrateful bastard,” I grumbled, digging behind my seat for the McDonalds bag I’d discarded a couple hundred miles ago.
Once I’d retrieved a few crumpled napkins and cleaned up Kevin’s mess, I vowed never to let him have beef jerky again. At least not whole pieces. I wasn’t a monster. Crisis averted, I cranked the engine and tried to pull back on the road, but the entire van shook with a thump, thump, thump as it inched forward.
Fuck!
Hopping out, I rounded the hood only to find that I had a flat tire. No, not just a flat—the motherfucker was shredded.
“Argh!” I kicked the side of the 70s monstrosity with everything I had.
That felt good. Like really good.
“Stupid Atticus, you fucking mooch! Stupid degree I can’t even use! And this stupid fucking van!” I screamed, punctuating every point with a solid thwack of my boot against metal.
“Whoa, what did that van ever do to you?” a deep voice called out from behind me.
I spun around too quickly, and my boots slipped on the gravel shoulder sending me straight onto my ass.
“Jesus, girl. Are you drunk?” The man was backlit by the sun, so I couldn't see his face as he came closer.
And this is how I die. On the side of the road next to a spray painted van, all because I fed my pet pig beef jerky.
"Savvy? Is that you?"
I squinted and shielded my eyes from my place on the ground.
So, maybe he wasn't a serial killer.
“Who…” I started, but my words cut off as he came close enough to block out the sun and let me finally see his... beard?
Hot damn, what a beard it was. Breaking from my momentary distraction, I forced my eyes to travel up instead of down just to collide with bright blue eyes that crinkled at the corners with his wide smile.
“Zep?”
“The one and only,” he laughed, giving me a wink.
Zep LeBlanc was in my sister’s class in high school, but that didn't stop him from being the crush of every female in the parish. I wasn't exaggerating. When he walked into a room, little girls giggled, teenagers swooned, and grown-ass women fanned themselves. All but my sister, of course.
He reached out a hand, and I let him pull me up from my perch in the dirt. "Thanks, Z," I said, dusting off my cutoffs.
“You gonna tell me what's got you playing whack-a-mole on the side of the road?”
“Flat tire.”
He walked to the front of the van and examined the damage. “More like shrapnel. You got a spare?”
“Uh, I'm not sure,” I stuttered.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Not sure?”
“Well, it's not exactly mine. I, uh, borrowed it?”
He laughed and shook his head. “You know what? I don't even want to know.”
I grimaced. “That's probably for the best.”
I opened the slider as Zep headed toward the back searching for a spare. Securing Kevin's harness, I let him roam around on his leash before plopping my ass on the shag carpet.
“Is that a pig? On a leash?” Zep asked, coming around the van with the spare I didn't know I had in one hand and a tire iron in the other.
“Yep,” I said, emphasizing the 'p' and swinging my legs.
He just shook his head. “I’d expect nothing less from you, Savannah Dubois.”
I laughed. No, I suppose he wouldn’t. No one was ever surprised by my antics. It almost took the fun out of it. Almost.
“So, how are you going to get that thing on?” I muttered, mainly to myself, while examining my useless tire. “We lucked out with the spare, but I know there’s no jack hiding back there.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got one in my truck. I’ll have you fixed up and on the road in no time.”
Zep and I chatted as he worked, and I found out he’d moved to New Orleans a few years back. I listened enraptured as he told me stories of nights spent wandering the French Quarter.
Excitement and anticipation buzzed under my skin. I’d only been to New Orleans once, even though I’d grown up less than an hour away. “So, you actually live in the middle of the craziness?”
“Not quite in the middle. I live just out of town. It’s close enough to get my hurricane fix whenever I’d like, but I can still drive back home for Sunday supper with my mama.”
“So you come back often?” I asked, feeling ashamed that I’d avoided coming home.
“Not all of us were in a rush to run away,” he said softly, looking at me over his shoulder. He was trying to be gentle, but his words still stung.
I averted my eyes and toed at the dusty gravel. “Some of us just had get away to find ourselves.”
“Must be a family trait,” he grumbled.
My head jerked up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I didn’t mean any offense, Sav. It’s just that your sister seemed to have the same idea. I haven’t seen her in nearly a decade. I guess she found herself a new life and liked that version better.”
I opened my mouth to defend my sister, but closed it when I couldn’t think of anything to say. He sounded almost sad, but that didn’t make any sense. Zep and Addie hated each other. He should’ve been happy to see her leave.
“Well, she’s here now,” I hedged, knowing full well my sister was going to be seven shades of pissed that I’d let that cat out of the bag.
His eyes flashed as he stood up, the new tire in place. “For the funeral?”
“Yeah,” I sighed, still not able to wrap my head around the fact that my grandfather was gone.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Savvy. Your Pappy was a good man.”
I barked out a laugh. “He was a grumpy asshole to everyone that wasn’t blood, but yeah, I guess he was a pretty good guy.”
“That’s the truth,” he smiled. “Well, you’re all set to make your grand return home.”
I hopped out of the van and gave Zep a tight squeeze. “Thanks for coming to my rescue. You’re an all right guy, Z.”
“It was my pleasure, Sav. I’ll see you at the funeral.”
“Uh, yeah, see you then,” I stumbled, watching as he retrieved his tools and headed back to his truck.
He’s going to Pappy’s funeral? Oh, boy.
Addie would blow a gasket. Maybe if she didn’t know beforehand, her manners would force her to be polite, and my poor Pappy’s wake wouldn’t turn into Godzilla versus King Kong.
Yeah, that’ll totally work. I hope.
3
A Date With The Colonel
Adelaide
Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana
There was a chill in the air, so I’d replaced the god awful crocheted shawl Savannah wore the minute it slipped off her shoulders. I’d restrained myself from asking what underpass hobo she’d lifted it off of as I covered her. She shivered and tilted her chin, flashing me one of her trademarked half-smiles. I would’ve smiled back if we both weren’t holding white roses and standing by Pappy’s pine casket. It hardly seemed like the time for sisterly bonding.
There hadn’t been time for much of anything since my return to Terrebonne. After hugs, tears, and a few suspicious glances at my bare ring finger, my time back home had been a whirlwind of well-wishers bearing inedible casseroles, flower deliveries, and a trip to Walmart with Savannah to buy a shitty black dress I’d never wear again.
Everyone tried to pull information out of me as to why Roland hadn’t come with me. Yet again, Babs rolled her eyes to the ceiling, asking God to make her a great-grandmother before senility had her burping the dogs and giving the kids a flea bath. I didn’t have the heart to tell her to put a bib on the Chihuahua and go for it
.
Children weren’t in the cards for me. Roland made that clear years ago. He even threatened me with a vasectomy. I laughed as I shook my head at my own stupidity. If I’d known then what I knew now, I’d have given him one myself.
“You always used to say, ‘a man should always fish hard. He can rest when he dies.’ Rest in peace, Pappy. You’ve earned it. I love you.” Savannah placed her white rose on the top of Pappy’s casket, trailing her fingers along the edge. I watched a tear rolled down her cheek, and my stomach flipped. Savvy wasn’t a crier. Between the two of us, she was always the stronger one, and it unsettled me to see her so emotional.
Brushing a piece of her long dark hair out of her tear-stained face, I placed my own rose crossways on top of hers and kissed my fingers, placing them on the casket. “We’ll take care of Babs, Pappy. Don’t worry.” As Savannah bit her lip to hold back more tears, my arm went around her waist on its own accord—just like when we were kids. I was the older sister by five years, not that it mattered much. Savvy was the aggressive one. She always held her own and never needed typical big sister protection. If anything, it was the other way around. However, when my little sister found herself upset, only I could calm her down.
That was the weird thing about Sav and me. We were as different as vanilla and chocolate, but as crucial as yin and yang. Somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten that.
Savannah leaned her cheek against my shoulder and wrapped her free arm around my own waist as we stumbled across the cemetery toward my car. Savvy had her face tucked against my shoulder, covertly wiping her snotty nose against the sleeve of my polyester dress when I saw him.
I saw him and my blood boiled a heated level of hellfire I hadn’t felt in years. Not when Courtney Carrington revealed my bloodline to the entire country club to win president. Not when Roland scheduled a ski trip to Colorado with his friends on my thirtieth birthday. Not even four days ago, when he unceremoniously kicked me out of my own house and told me he’d been cheating on me for God knew how long. No, this level of hate, went beyond Roland Bordeaux and the Jezebel of Shreveport.
It went straight to the devil blue eyes of Zephirin “Zep” LeBlanc.
Jerking Savannah’s snotty nose away from my armpit, I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. Not from the cold, but out of pure anger. “What the hell is he doing here?”
Following my glare, she shrugged as if my world hadn’t spun on its axis. “I ran into him on the way to Terrebonne. He said he was going to come to Pappy’s funeral. Didn’t I tell you?”
I blinked at her as if the action would transport some sense into her. “No, you didn’t tell me, Sav! But it sure as hell would’ve been a nice conversation starter when you got here.” I threw my hands in air, gesturing wildly and mimicking her voice. “Hi, Ads. Nice to see you, Ads. Your ass looks good in those jeans, Ads. The douchebag who plagued your entire high school existence is coming to Pappy’s funeral, Ads.”
“Oops.”
“Oops?” I stared at her with an open mouth. “This is not an oops, Savannah.”
Rolling her eyes, she shrugged and wiped her nose on the edge of her shawl. “Okay. Fuck?”
“Don’t you remember what a dick he was to me? He lived to ridicule and torture me.”
“Don’t you think you’re being just a little dramatic?”
“Adelaide Dubois.” A gravelly voice appeared in front of me, causing my pulse to roar in my ears and sweat to bead across my upper lip. Slowly, I lifted my head and collided with a nightmare from my past dressed in faded black jeans and a black button up shirt. “What hole did you crawl out of? I’m assuming there’ll be a parade later in your honor? Maybe a ticker tape for the plantation princess’s homecoming?”
My jaw ticked. “Bordeaux.”
“Come again?” he asked, furrowing dark eyebrows that covered those hateful blue eyes.
“Bordeaux. My name is Adelaide Bordeaux.”
Moving quickly, he grabbed my ringless left hand and smirked. “Rings at the cleaners, Mrs. Bordeaux?”
“Very funny. Don’t you have a boat to be scrubbing somewhere?” Leaning in, I made a big production of inhaling his scent then wrinkled my nose in disgust. “You smell like low tide. Couldn’t you shower first out of respect?”
Actually, he smelled like sea salt and spice. All man. It was intoxicating, and I wanted to drown in it. But I sure as hell wouldn’t tell him that. I hated myself a little as I scanned his ring finger for a gold band.
There wasn’t one.
“What’s wrong, Addie? Never smelled a real, honest, hard working man before? Are you too used to those metro-sexual mannequins up in Shreveport?” A slow, smug grin pulled the corners of his mouth outward until they disappeared into deep dimples.
Ugh. What was wrong with me? They weren’t cute dimples. They were annoying, and he was annoying, and his whole existence reminded me why I left Terrebonne in the first damn place.
Then it hit me. “How’d you know I lived in Shreveport?” Shooting an accusing glare in Savannah’s direction, I rephrased the question, carefully controlling my tone. “Savannah, how’d he know I lived in Shreveport?”
“Lucky guess?” She grinned, raising an eyebrow.
All three of us stood in awkward silence as I shot death glares at my sister while Savannah bounced amused eyes back and forth between me and Zep. I didn’t care enough to look at what Zep LeBlanc did. He could go to hell for all I cared.
“Well, I better get going. I’m going to be late,” he announced as if zoning in on my thoughts.
Good. Your bungalow in hell is probably ready for check-in, asshole.
“Probably,” I retorted, still staring holes into Savannah. Breaking out of my stupor, I shook my head, and attempted to find what composure I’d lost. Placing a hand on Savannah’s shoulder, I steered her toward my car again. “Come on, Sav, we have to go too.” Mustering all my courage, I finally looked Zep LeBlanc in his devil eyes. “Family business, you understand.”
Instead of walking away like any normal, decent person, the cause of so many tearful and sleepless teenage nights grinned that damn shit-eating grin and scanned a slow perusal down my dress. “Of course. And you’re all about the family, aren’t you, Snow White?”
Snow White.
That damn nickname. I hadn’t heard it since the day I graduated and swore I’d never hear it again.
Damn Zep LeBlanc.
“Screw you.”
Savannah elbowed me and whispered, “It’s fuck you, Ads. Screw you is an eighth-grade insult.”
I elbowed her back, a little harder than necessary. “Screw you too, Sav.” As we walked with a brisk pace toward my BMW, I fought with the key fob, pressing the unlock button at least four times before the damn thing clicked.
“He really gets to you, doesn’t he?” Savannah mused, fastening her seatbelt and flipping the overhead vanity mirror down to fluff her messy hair.
“No,” I grumbled, throwing the car into reverse. “He pisses me off. There’s a huge difference.”
“Whatever you say, sis.” A smug smile played on her lips, and an internal war waged within me whether to keep driving or pull over and smack it off.
Not because I was mad at her.
But because she was right.
An hour later, the entire Dubois family sat in a semi-circle in the museum-styled office of my grandfather’s business attorney for the will reading. The place was as tacky as the man who inhabited it. Deer heads mounted on the walls stared at me, watching every move I made with sad, disapproving eyes.
I didn’t care what the will said. I just wanted it over with so we could put this behind us. As my grandparents’ only child, we all assumed that my father would inherit the fishing business my grandfather had built from the ground up. It wasn’t as if we were a rich family, so I didn’t understand why the lawyer kept tugging at his collar like he was at an open confessional.
“So, I say, I say,” he stammered adjusting his black rimme
d glasses and stroking his white goatee, “Charlie came to me about three months ago, and revised this here will I hold in my hands.” Bartholomew Carlisle, Esq. held a stack of papers and waved it to the entire room as if it were the Declaration of Independence. Adjusting his black string bolo tie, he dabbed at his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief he pulled from the pocket of his white suit. “I say, I realize this may be a little unusual, but I abide by the law, and Charlie Dubois followed the law, ya hear?”
Lowering my voice, I leaned close to Savannah’s chair. “Why does he look like Colonel Sanders?” I whispered.
Savannah stared at him and cocked her head. “I don’t know. Why does he sound like Foghorn Leghorn?”
Making the mistake of meeting each other’s bewildered stares, Sav and I held it together for a second before losing our composure and dissolving into barely contained snorts.
“My English better than this assoff,” Babs spat out in disgust.
“Asshole, Babs.” Savannah laughed, holding her stomach. “It’s asshole or jerkoff. Pick one.”
“Girls!” My mother reprimanded us from three seats down as if we were children again. Instead of calming us down, it had the reverse effect, escalating our snorts into full out howls.
The past few days had me in such an uproar. With Pappy’s death, Roland kicking me out, the stress of hiding everything from my family, and now the return of the nightmare from my past, it was nice to finally laugh and unwind. Even if it was at the most morbid place to do it.
I’d just sat back in my chair and zoned into the amusing rhetoric of Colonel Leghorn when my world shifted, tilted, spun 180 degrees, and free fell into the depths of hell.
“Sorry I’m late, y’all. I had to give a friend a ride home, and traffic was horrible.”
My throat burned. “What the fuck?”
“There you go!” Savannah beamed, slapping me on the back. “Welcome to big girl talk!”