by Cora Kenborn
“Addie?” All the tension released from Savannah’s body as she reached across the seat and grabbed the hand from my mouth, holding it in hers. “What’s up with you and Zep?Sometimes you two look like you want to drive a 4x4 across each other’s faces, and other times it seems like you want to devour one another. Which is it?”
I stiffened as I made the turn that’d take us down the long winding driveway toward Sugarbirch Plantation. “Psychology is over, and there’s no time for drama class, dear sister. We’ve arrived at Professor Humpsalot’s house. Time to get it and split it.”
Pulling up to the circular driveway, Savannah slammed her door and pointed a finger at me again before reaching for Kevin Jr. in the backseat. “Don’t think we’re done with this. There’s something you’re not telling me, and I’m going to find out what it is, whether you like it or not.”
I mustered another laugh as I pulled out my key and stuck it in the door. “Ancient history is better left in the past.” I glanced up at the freshly whitewashed wood of the hundred-year-old plantation house. “But modern history, well, that’s where you’ll find all the action.”
“Did you steal a blunt from Babs before we left?”
I tried to turn the key and grimaced. “No, but, I think one might help right about now.” I tried to turn my key again. “What the hell?” I twisted it the other direction to no avail. Then it hit me. “Motherfucker!” With one finger on the doorbell and the other banging on the wood, I hit them simultaneously, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Open this damn door, Roland!”
Before I could slam my palm again, the door swung open, along with my mouth. “May I help you?”
Well, someone had to. The poor thing’s outfit got mauled by a bear and made it out only half intact. She wore what I could only assume was once a black miniskirt with bright red cherries all over it. Every time she moved her leg, her ass cheek fell out as if it was gasping for air and making a break for it. The long sleeve red shirt she wore would’ve been cute—on a toddler. The only thing that halfway made it modest was the long carrot red hair draped over her chest. Still, the fabric was so strained, I could count her ribs and every dimple on her overinflated boobs.
“Holy shit, are those things rea—”
I punched Savannah, achieving the intended desire of knocking the wind out of her. “Who the hell are you?” I growl. I was in no mood for pleasantries.
She grinned, revealing veneered teeth rivaling the Day-Glo whiteness of Roland’s. “Brandi, with an ‘i.’ Who are you?”
“Adelaide, with an M-r-s.” I glanced around her and dangled my key in her face. “Why are you in my house, and why doesn’t my key work?”
She tilted her head with the confused look of a two pound Chihuahua facing a nine-ounce ribeye. “M-R-S,” She spelled it out, ticking the letters off on her fingers. “RoRo?” She called into the house. “What does M-R-S mean?”
RoRo?
Gum popped behind me. “Oh, she’s a special kind of stupid. Her IQ must match how many dicks she can fit in her mouth.”
My arm swung backward again. “Savannah!”
A familiar deep voice boomed from behind the front door and moved forward. “What’s wrong, baby?”
His good mood tanked and his face fell when he spotted me standing on the front porch. I had a similar reaction, but it was more aimed at his sudden transformation. He’d traded in his normal three-piece suits for a pair of khakis and a light green golf shirt. The fucker looked almost beachy.
“Oh, Adelaide. It’s you.”
Had I been dropped into an alternate universe? Up was down, left was right, and Roland Bordeaux was in khakis. Life made no sense. “Oh it’s you? What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Roland?”
Pursing his mouth, he arched a disapproving eyebrow. “I see you’ve picked up some bad habits while you’ve been away.” Tilting his chin, he glanced around me and smirked. “A pleasure, as always, Savannah.”
“Eat shit, RoRo,” Savannah shot back, blowing a huge bubble in his face and sucking it back in.
The scene was too much. The past week had been too much. My life had been turned upside down, and no one seemed to give a damn. Pappy was dead, Zep invaded my life again, and my husband apparently had shacked up with Ginger Snatch.
“Where did you meet her, Roland? Was she selling Girl Scout cookies at a strip club?”
He shot me that look. The one that always had me cowering in the corner, afraid of my own shadow. Afraid I’d somehow made him mad enough to send me back to the swamp a jilted woman.
“We’re in love, Adelaide. It’s not something I planned.”
I blinked repeatedly. “You didn’t plan it? Oh, that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.” Inhaling dramatically, I swooned with my hands pressed against my heart. “So, on your way to the office one day, you accidentally made a wrong turn and dollar bills just flew out of your pants and into Bambi’s ass crack? Is that it?”
“It’s Brandi, and it wasn’t like that. We talked.”
Throwing my head back, I laughed with my arms spread wide. “About what? What kinds of cartoons she likes? Oh, maybe which YouTuber’s videos are the most amazeballs? You’re into YouTube, right, RoRo?” I couldn’t help the contempt in my voice. It dripped with it. It oozed like a festering blister that needed to be popped.
“That’s enough, Adelaide.”
Oh, but I’d just gotten started. “You made me dress every day of my life like the most asexual person on earth while this is what you wanted?” I flung an arm out at Brandi with an ‘i’ “Someone who looks like she gives hand jobs on the highway?” By the time I’d finished I could feel my neck turning red, the blood rushing to every extremity with undue force.
Roland just smiled that calm, unflappable smile I’d come to loathe. “See? This is exactly it, Adelaide. Has she said one word?” He ran a hand down Brandi’s arm. “No, Brandi knows her place. She lets me handle things like a wife should. She doesn’t test me.”
“We all should be tested!” I screamed. “For one of the countless STDs Brandi with a fucking ‘i’ has probably given us!” I stared at him a minute because the words coming out of his mouth just didn’t compute with a normal human being. It was like the day we said “I do,” someone vacuum sucked my brain and had it cryogenically frozen until four days ago. Apparently, they just set Roland’s on fire and played kickball with it until it disintegrated into a chauvinistic dust storm.
“I need you both to leave, now,” Roland bit out, his jaw ticking with repressed rage. Gripping the door with extreme force, I saw his forearm twitch as he prepared to slam the door in our faces.
Something inside, me—sweet Adelaide Rose Dubois—snapped.
A primal howl crawled out of my chest and let loose on the front porch as I wedged my foot in the door as he attempted to close it. With the force of an army behind me, I shoved into the door, knocking Roland back and Brandi flat on her ass. Reaching for the staircase, I motioned for Savannah to follow me. “I’m getting my shit, Roland, and you’re going to sit down and shut the hell up while I do it.”
“By the way, that BMW is mine, Adelaide. It stays here.” I stopped halfway up the stairs as Roland shoved a palm in front of my sister’s face. “Do not bring that pig in my house, Savannah.”
Stomping back down, I scooped up the pig, still wrapped in his Pampers, and whipped around with fire in my eyes. “His name is Kevin Junior Bacon Cheeseburger, and he took the biggest shit you’ve ever seen all over your camel colored leather seats.” At the top of the stairs I yelled back down as Savannah bumped into the back of me. “Oh, and he had Babs’ beer can chicken for dinner, so I doubt that squirt’s coming out, boss.”
Right before I slammed the door to the bedroom, I heard Roland’s voice booming from the bottom. “I’m calling the police, Adelaide. You’ve broken into my home, and Savannah has a history of stealing shit. If you don’t want to be arrested, I suggest you, your sister, and your cheeseburger leave.”
> Setting Kevin on Roland’s side of the bed, I kicked the door shut and paced. “This isn’t happening.”
Savannah leaned against the wall, her face pale and her eyes constantly darting to the window. “Ads, I think we should go.”
“What?” I felt my face contort into a mask of shock and disgust. “This was your idea, little sister. You wanted me to get my shit. You wanted me to stand up for myself. I’m getting my shit, see?” I pulled out another suitcase and began dumping clothes and jewelry inside. “And I stood the fuck up for myself down there. Were you even paying attention? I was a rock star!”
She swallowed hard. “It’s just…” In the background a faint siren wailed, indicating that Roland hadn’t made idle threats. “Oh, shit!”
My sister started shaking. Literally shaking the minute the siren stopped and the front door slammed. I’d never seen Savvy scared before. As much as I should’ve comforted her, it fascinated the hell out of me. “Jesus, Sav! What’s gotten into you?”
Muffled noises carried up the stairs from the foyer. Cursing low under her breath, Savannah pinched my lips together. I didn’t have time to react before she dragged me to the bedroom door and pressed our ears against it for better listening.
A man’s voice, deep and authoritative engulfed Roland’s. “Yes, I understand Mr. Bordeaux. Yes, sir. I’ll handle it. No, sir, you stay here. I’ll handle it.” As his heavy boots climbed the stairs, Savannah and I tripped over ourselves, pushing away from the door and falling onto the bed. Savannah missed and landed on her ass, while I ended up sitting inside my suitcase. It’d be a small wonder if we didn’t get arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct.
The minute the door opened, I almost fell out of the suitcase and landed next to Savannah. I expected Andy Griffith and got Channing Tatum. Standing at roughly six-foot-one and clad in a blue uniform that hugged him in all the right places, the young officer looked more like one of those hot strip-o-grams than a real cop. His light brown hair was closely cropped, but it was the megawatt movie star smile that had me wanting to ball up inside my suitcase and weep with appreciation. It was panty-flipping.
“Hi, ladies. I’m Officer Quentin Pope, and….is that pig wearing a diaper?”
As if summoned by the devil himself, Roland appeared in the doorway behind Pope, his ears a stop sign shade of red. “I want her gone.”
Officer Pope sighed and ran his palm over his military style haircut. “Mr. Bordeaux, you can’t keep your wife from getting her things.” Turning to me, he offered a kind smile. “However, Mrs. Bordeaux, you need to leave the grounds as soon as possible. This is your husband’s property and your name isn’t on the deed.” Pausing, his eyes dropped to the floor. “That includes you too, Mrs…?”
“Miss Dubois,” Savannah corrected, straightening her spine and dropping her sweater off her shoulder a little deeper. “Savannah Dubois. I’m the sane sister.”
Officer Pope’s mouth quirked up as I crossed my arms. “You need to come with me, Miss Dubois. You’re not a member of the Bordeaux family and unfortunately, I’m going to have to ask you and Piggy Pampers to vacate the premises.” He offered her his hand, and Savannah grinned, willingly taking it with her eyes on him the whole time.
Gathering Kevin in her arms, she paused at the door, her hand resting against the molding as her dark hair swirled over her shoulder. “Ads? Are you going to be okay?”
Was I going to be okay? It was a valid question. I’d been Adelaide Dubois Bordeaux for ten years. My activities included making Roland happy, walking on eggshells, pretending to like people I hated, and changing every fiber of my being.
Yeah. I’d be just fine.
Waving her away, I heard the door close as I returned to my suitcase and glared at it with hatred. All my clothes were ones that Roland had picked out. Tans and pastels stared back at me—clothes that he thought were classic and tasteful. Pantsuits, silk blouses, full length dresses and skirts, along with sensible heels.
Grasping the sides, I turned the entire thing upside down and dumped it all out. Repacking all the jewelry, I tossed in silverware, crystal, vases, and anything of value I could get my hands on. I’d live at least a few comfortable months courtesy of RoRo and Brandi.
All zipped up and ready to leave, a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Something told me that Brandi with an ‘i’ was a temporary fixture at Sugarbirch. I’d done well to last a decade, but I didn’t see her reaching the same milestone. I might as well leave her a parting gift. A welcome to the family gift, so to speak.
Something that I knew she’d really use.
Reaching underneath the dresser, I pulled out a gallon sized Ziploc baggy. I frowned a little. I’d just bought a new stash when Pappy died. Oh, well. I had a feeling Brandi would need them more than me in the coming months.
Grabbing some monogrammed stationary from the nightstand, I wrote a quick note, signed it, and placed the Ziploc on top of the dresser. Holding the rose scented paper to my face, I read it to myself out loud to get the desired effect.
Dear Brandi,
Roses are red,
Roland’s dick doesn’t please.
After you fake it enough,
You’re gonna need these.
-The EX Mrs. Bordeaux
Giggling to myself, I gave the note a little tap, placed it face-up next to the bag of vibrators and dildos, and walked out of Sugarbirch with something that I didn’t have walking in.
Deconditioned Response.
7
Roadside Assistance
Savannah
Shreveport, Louisiana
“A pet pig, huh?” Officer McDelicious asked as we waited on the porch for Addie to finish collecting her things.
I squinted at his name tag. “That’s right, Officer Pope,” I said proudly, lifting my baby up to eye level. “Meet Kevin Junior Bacon Cheeseburger. He grants wishes.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry?”
I stared at him blankly. “For what?”
His eyes narrowed and his lips twitched. He wore the expression of a man trying to figure out if I was a total whackadoodle or just fucking with him. For the record, I was mostly fucking with him.
“You named your pig after the guy from Footloose?”
“Among other things, yes.”
He gave me a tight-lipped smile and nodded once. “I see.”
Shit, I was losing him. Abort mission, abort mission.
I let out a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry, I was just screwing with you. The pig’s name really is Kevin Bacon, but I’m not crazy.”
“You’re not?” he asked, his skeptical tone obvious.
“Nope, and as long as you don’t question my ex, I’m fairly certain I’ll be able to convince you of it,” I said, giving him a wink.
He laughed, sounding only a fraction uncomfortable. “Is that so, Miss Dubois?”
“It is, Officer Pope, or should I call you sir?” I purred, watching as his eyes slightly widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.
Bingo!
I was laying it on thick, but I wasn’t sure how long I’d have with the ridiculously sexy officer, and I wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass.
He cleared his throat and straightened, effectively shutting down his reaction to me. “Just Pope is fine.”
Interesting. Time to change tactics. “Well, Pope, how long have you been a cop?”
A look of bewilderment crossed his face, and he was back to staring at me. I laughed inwardly, throwing him off balance and evading his attempts to get a read on me.
Oh, sugar, you’re right where I want you.
“Uh, I’ve been with the Shreveport PD for about five years.”
“That must be boring,” I sighed, letting my eyes wander from him to the gardens beyond the porch.
He laughed instead of getting offended, and instantly earned another twenty brownie points. “Yeah, there’s usually not much in the way of action. Most of the time, we get called out for a lost
dog or a domestic dispute over property lines. In fact, I’m pretty sure this is the most exciting call I’ve been on in a year, which is why today is my last day.”
“You’re quitting?” I gasped, instantly heartbroken at the thought of a world without him in a police uniform.
A rumble started low in his chest and soon, his shoulders shook and the tips of his ears turned red with his uncontrollable laughter. “You should’ve seen your face,” he choked out, trying to catch his breath. “You looked like I just told you I shoot puppies for a living.”
“I did not!”
“Yes, you did. It was cute.” His laugh faded from amused to professional. “I’m starting with the NOPD in two days, actually.”
“Whoa, you move fast.”
“A position opened up, and I saw no reason to waste time. I put in the transfer request almost a year ago. You’d be surprised how many people want to move to New Orleans.”
“What’s not to love? The music, the people, the voodoo.”
Pope’s mouth quirked up on one side and he shook his head. “You’re something else, Miss Dubois.”
“If I had a dollar for every time I heard a man utter those words… And please, call me Savvy.”
“I much prefer Savannah,” he said, lowering his voice an octave and pinning me with his baby blues.
Holy sweet baby Jesus in the manger, is it hot in here?
I was suspended in time under his heavy gaze, I couldn’t move, talk, or even form a coherent thought. That was until my beloved pet pig decided to go completely insane and ruin the moment.
Kevin squealed and squirmed in my arms. I tried and failed to keep a hold of him. As soon as his little piggy feet hit the porch he was off, tearing down the stairs and past the rose bushes into the gardens.