Swamp Happens: The Complete Swamp Bottom Series

by Cora Kenborn

Zep LeBlanc was unlike Roland in every way possible. Roland’s motto was “never let them see you sweat,” while Zep subscribed more to the “Satan sucks my dick” school of thought.

  My ex-husband never made me crave him. I never salivated for the taste of him. The man currently on top of me drenched my panties with a single look.

  “God, Addie, I want you so fucking bad.” I vaguely registered his hand running up the inside of my thigh, chasing my skirt as it slid up and bunched around my waist.

  “Yes.” It was all my pride would allow.

  Dragging his thumb across my lip, he curled the rest of his fingers under my chin and forced my eyes on him. “I need you to touch me first.”

  Not an unreasonable request. However, when I reached for the button on his jeans, my hand shook. My fingertips numbed and weakened as they grazed the metal barrier.

  I didn’t want to ask for it. I didn’t want to admit to needing validation. Jesus, why the hell couldn’t he just take control like a man and fuck the pain away?

  Was that too much to ask?

  I didn’t know I was crying until I tasted the tears—salty and single, just like me.

  Zep winced as he pulled away, letting out a groan while sliding off me. Adjusting himself, he mumbled a curse under his breath and handed me the strap of the seat belt. “Put this on.”

  Something in his eyes made me suck in a sharp breath. “What? Why? I thought you said you wanted me?”

  “I do,” he said, his eyes dulling. “But I want you to be with me because you want it as much as I do, not to punish your ex-husband.”

  Every ounce of warmth in my body chilled. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  Wrapping the seat belt around my fingers, Zep stroked his beard and sighed. “I’ve lived without you for thirteen years, Addie. I won’t settle for less than everything. It’s all of you or nothing.”

  With a slam of the door, duck number twenty-seven took her rightful place at the back of the stage.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

  What had I done?

  The ride home was uncomfortable and silent. After collecting my purse and phone from the truck bed for me, Zep climbed behind the wheel and slammed the door with a finality that made me wince. For half an hour, I sat with my hands folded in my lap while he hid behind a pair of dark sunglasses and choked the life out of the steering wheel.

  I tried to push it all down. I really tried, but all it managed to do was churn the already festering ulcer brewing since I left Sugarbirch. Unable to stand it anymore, I threw my hands in the air and groaned. “The silent treatment? Don’t you have anything to say?”

  “Did that asshole call the cops?”

  Okay, not what I expected.

  “Huh?”

  Pulling into my driveway, Zep tugged off his sunglasses and pointed in front of us. “The cops, Addie. NOPD is sitting in your driveway.” Shaking his head, he threw his glasses on the dashboard. “Look, I know some of the guys on the force. Find out what they want, and whatever your dick of an ex is accusing you of, I’ll—”

  Squinting my eyes across the lawn, I recognized the lone figure sitting on the top step of my front porch. He had his head buried in his hands, and his shoulders hung with the weight of the world. “That’s no cop. That’s Pope.”

  Clearing the distance from the driveway to the steps, I rested my hands on my hips and tilted my head curiously. “Pope? Is everything all right?”

  A dejected, sad look crossed his face as he lifted his bowed head. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, ravaged from the pain hidden behind them. “Savannah’s gone.”

  27

  A Dubois Love Orgy

  Savannah

  Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana

  Céline Dion's “All By Myself” came on the radio just as I pulled off Highway 90 toward my hometown. I blindly punched at buttons until the damn song stopped playing. I loved me some Céline, but damn, that song threw the remaining pieces of my heart in a blender.

  I bumped along the gravel road leading to Babs’ house serenaded only by the sound of Kevin's snores. I hadn't called to let her know I was coming, but as I pulled up, I spotted her on the front porch sitting in her rocking chair. She held a bottle of vodka in her hand like she'd been expecting me.

  No words were spoken as I jumped out of the truck, leaving Kevin snoozing in his little nest and made my way up the porch steps. She handed me the bottle without a word.

  After a few hearty slugs, Babs snapped her fingers at me. “No camping.”

  I reluctantly took one last swig and passed the bottle back to her.

  She closed her bad eye, sizing me up with the less cataract damaged one. “You going to tell me why you show up here in middle of night?”

  Letting my head fall back against the dilapidated porch railing, I gazed up at the clear swamp sky. This far out in the sticks, away from the lights and noises of the city, you could actually see the stars and hear the songs of the creatures who called the swamp home. It was beautiful, and as much as I loved living in the New Orleans, I missed home.

  “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.”

  “Come now, tell Babs problem.”

  I groaned and scrubbed the tears from my cheeks. “It’s Pope.”

  She clucked her tongue at me, shaking her head. “Always problems with dick.”

  “Ya Ya!” I yelled, snatching the bottle out of her hand and taking another swig. “Fuck men and their stupid lies. Let’s get drunk!”

  Babs gave me a gummy grin. She must've already taken her teeth out for the night. “Vodka fix everything.”

  I snorted. Vodka was the Dubois cure-all for anything that ailed you. We passed the bottle back and forth as I listen to her rattle on about the assholes in the town. The sheriff had come down last week to warn her that shooting another alligator without a permit would force him to arrest her. Naturally, she’d told him to go fuck himself and she’d continue to do whatever she damn well pleased.

  As if Sheriff Tucker would really haul an eighty-five-year old woman to jail. It’d be the talk of the town.

  “I almost forget!” Babs yelled, jumping up out of her chair. The little doll she’d been whittling fell to the ground with a clatter. “I be right back.” She speed-waddled into the house, crop dusting me on the way. I stared warily at the wooden doll on the ground, uncertain and slightly terrified she’d been making a miniature Pope voodoo doll.

  Babs pushed open the screen door and peeked her head out. “Ready?”

  I was about seven sheets to the wind, so I just gave her a sloppy smile and nodded. Squinting through the vodka haze and the dim glow of the porch light, I finally focused enough to see that she held a leash.

  What the hell?

  I followed the line of the black leash down, down, down, until…

  Oh dear God!

  I crab-walked backward as fast as I could, clambering onto the railing. “What the fuck, Babs? Have you finally lost your fatherfucking mind?”

  Oh, man, I was so not looking forward to having to commit her.

  “What? You have pet pig; I have pet gator. His name Fluffy.”

  “There are so many things wrong with that damn sentence. Do you keep a man-eating animal inside your house?”

  Babs just rolled her eyes. “Only nighttime. Don’t want him hurt.”

  She’d finally done it. She’d taken it too far, and there was no coming back. “You don’t want the vicious modern-day dinosaur to get hurt? You’ve got to be kidding me. I swear, I'm in the Twilight Zone.”

  “When Pappy die and my girls leave again, I have no one. Pisshole sheriff say I can’t shoot gator, so I get one for pet to keep me company.”

  I instantly felt the lead weight of guilt settle in my stomach. “Aw, Babs, if you’re lonely then call me. Addie and I can drive down for the weekend.”

  “No, my girls don’t have time to waste with sad, old lady. You have bearded clam digger and Officer McFuckNut.”

  Shame washed over me. We�
��d come back only to move away again, leaving our poor grandmother all by herself.

  God, we were assholes.

  I prepared to beat myself up when I caught a twinkle in Babs’ good eye right before she let out what could only be described as a warrior cry. I had to get her to stop watching reruns of Xena, Warrior Princess.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “A little guilt good for you. Is fine. I have vodka, and now I have Fluffy,” she said simply as if she were talking about a companion dog instead of a swamp monster.

  “Dear God, will you put that thing away so I can get off the damn railing? I’m about to jump out of my skin.”

  “Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Babs grumbled, turning to head back inside.

  As soon as the beast’s tail cleared the front door, I jumped back down, fully intent on continuing my pity party. I wasn’t sure if there was enough booze in the world to drown out the memory of seeing my grandmother with an alligator on a leash, but I sure as hell intended to try.

  The smell of frying bacon pulled me from my comatose state. I shifted and groaned at the creaking beneath me as I lay on Babs’ couch. The protective plastic sheeting that covered the 80s abomination had caused my face to feel like it had melted into the plastic overnight. Slowly, I peeled my cheek off, the devil plastic taking at least three layers of my skin hostage in the process. As I stretched, I made the mistake of rolling and completely misjudged the width of the couch, unceremoniously dumping my own ass onto the floor.

  Landing with a thud, I groaned. My head pounded harder than a forty-year-old virgin with a hooker, and my mouth tasted like roadkill. It was the perfect beginning to what was sure to be an amazingly shitty day.

  “Oh, good you’re up,” my mother’s chipper voice sounded from above me.

  Am I still asleep? What the hell is Mama doing here?

  I cracked one mascara-crusted eye open and peered at the blurry figure hovering above the couch where I’d been sleeping moments earlier.

  “Mom?” I croaked, sounding like my voice box had been thrown into a wood chipper. “What are you doing here? Did I go to your house? Where am I?”

  I cringed as she gave me the disappointed mom face. “Glad to see you didn't die of alcohol poisoning.”

  My stomach flipped and somersaulted down a rabbit hole at the mention of alcohol.

  Oh, God, make it stop.

  “Mama, please don’t.” I gagged but forced myself to reel it in. On top of everything, I wouldn’t disappoint Babs by being the pussy who blew chunks the next morning after making it through a whole night of drinking. I was better than that.

  “Oh dear, are you going to be sick? Let me get a bowl.”

  I waved a hand at her in protest. “I’m fine.”

  She twisted the dish towel in her hands nervously. My mother had Addie’s caretaking tendencies times a hundred. If she wasn’t fretting over someone, she was cleaning or fixing something in the kitchen. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Yes, please, you sweet, sweet woman.”

  “Do you want decaf?”

  What the hell? I’m hungover, and it’s God knows fuck o’clock. This is not the time for decaf, woman.

  The sound of Babs’ snort, followed by her spitting in disgust, came from somewhere beyond the living room. “Drinking decaf is like going to hooker for pull job.”

  Good ol’ Babs.

  I hooked a thumb in the general vicinity of Babs’ hacking cough-laugh. “What she said.”

  My mother tsked in disapproval and scurried off to the kitchen, God bless her soul. My mother was the quintessential Southern housewife. She went to church twice a week, volunteered for charity events, and made sure that my father had three home-cooked meals a day. She was practically Betty fucking Crocker. How she managed to deal with having Babs as a mother-in-law without stroking out before she turned forty, I'd never know.

  She came back bearing a steaming mug of coffee that smelled like heaven.

  “Thanks, Mama.” I scooted over to make room for her on the couch, but instead of sitting down, she started to fold the blankets I’d used the night before. My mother never could relax if there were things that needed tidying.

  I took a sip and almost orgasmed. It was liquid gold with the perfect amount of cream and sugar—just how I liked it. “Goddamn, woman! You know how to make a cup of coffee.”

  She scowled at me. “Savannah Lynn Dubois, what have I told you about taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

  Has the poor woman learned nothing?

  I wagged a finger in her direction. “Ah, ah, not so fast. This is Babs’ house, and she doesn’t have those rules.”

  “Oh, heavens me!” She threw up her hands in exasperation, stopping for only a second before diving back into the mountain of blankets. “What am I gonna do with you?”

  “I don’t know. I guess the same thing you’ve been doing with me for the past twenty-five years. Hope and pray I’ll finally turn out to be the proper lady you always wanted me to be and then deal with the crippling disappointment when I don’t meet your expectations?”

  She froze mid-fold her mouth hanging open. “Baby girl, is that really what you think?” she asked, sitting next to me.

  Hell no. It’s too early for a heart to heart.

  “Is what, what I think?”

  Smooth, Sav, she’ll never decode that one.

  My evil powers of diversion had failed me in my time of need. It was official. Vodka was my kryptonite.

  She didn’t even blink. “Do you honestly believe I’m disappointed in you?”

  “Well, aren’t you?” I wasn’t sure if it were possible for any functioning adult not to be disappointed in me. Hell, I was disappointed in me.

  “Heavens no!” She reached over and took my free hand in hers, giving me a comforting pat. “Darling, you’re adventurous, free spirited, and so spontaneous. I’m jealous. I’d kill for just a teeny bit of your courage.”

  I looked around the room for a hidden camera. “Am I getting Punk’d?”

  After years of experience with my antics, my mother just ignored me and continued. “Now, do I wish that you’d swear a little less and maybe try to act like a God-fearing woman? Of course. But that doesn’t mean I’m not proud of you for carving your own path and saying, ‘screw you, dude’ to anyone who doesn’t like it.”

  My jaw about hit the floor. That “screw you” was the closest thing to a curse I’d ever heard come out of my mama’s mouth.

  “Wow, I guess I didn’t think you thought that highly of me.”

  “Oh, child, you and your sister are the apples of my eye. I’m equally proud of both of you, but you’ve always been different. Even as a little girl, you marched to the beat of your own drum. I’m not saying it was easy bringing you up, but I knew God gave you to me for a reason. It was to teach me patience and understanding.”

  “Yeah, how’d that work out for you? If I recall, your patience and understanding cost you a tractor and a shrimp boat at one point.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d taught that coping mechanism to Addie. My sister did a lot of that pausing and breathing shit around me.

  “I’d blocked that tractor incident out for ten years, so thank you for reminding me.”

  Jostling her with my elbow, I wiggled my eyebrows. “Was that sarcasm? Did my mama just throw a little shade?”

  “Lord have mercy, are you going to let me have this moment or not?”

  This is your mama, I reminded myself. Don’t be an asshole.

  “Sorry.” I pretended to lock up my mouth and throw away the key, but she wasn’t amused.

  “Where was I? Oh right, even when you were little, you were so free and fierce. Oh my, were you fierce. I knew you were never going to be a doctor or a lawyer. You’d never be content living a life like that. What I did know was that whatever you did, you’d be passionate about it and live life to the fullest.”

  “Wow,” I whispered.

&
nbsp; “Not everyone can say that, Savannah. Some of the richest and most successful people on the planet are empty inside. Sure, on paper they’ve got it all figured out, but their life is confined to four office walls. You’ve always been a bit of a wanderer, seeking your next adventure. However, the woman you’ve become is someone special, and she’s someone to be proud of.”

  I felt the tears welling in my eyes, and I forced out a pathetic laugh. “Well, shit, woman, you sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

  My mother threw back her head and raised her hands in a praying gesture. “Lord help me!”

  I reached out and gave her a one-armed hug, balancing my coffee cup on my knee. “Thanks, Mama, I needed that.”

  “Are you ready for breakfast? The bacon is getting cold.”

  God, she was good. Maybe it was because she gestated me for nine months and wrangled me for another eighteen years, but somehow, she knew I couldn’t take any more of the heavy on an empty stomach.

  “Yeah, I’m starved.”

  The ancient, warped floorboards creaked as Babs made her way down the hall. “Is love orgy over now? I come out?”

  “Sure thing, I’m just fixin’ up breakfast. Are you hungry?” Mama asked, her voice sweet at molasses. Her patience with Babs was otherworldly, especially since the older woman seemed to get off on deliberately fucking with her.

  “You make bacon?” Babs asked. “Crispy kind, not wet soggy-cock kind.”

  “Yes, ma'am, I made yours extra crispy just like you like it.”

  Babs nodded and then stopped mid-shuffle. “Cow shit. I have to put good teeth in.”

  Mama piled enough food onto my plate to feed Bam-Bam for an entire day. Due to an unfortunate incident during Pappy's wake that included several feisty members of the church elder choir and a gallon of hot sauce from the Piggly Wiggly, Babs didn’t have a dining table. I shivered at the memory. Because of the absence of said dining table, the three of us sat in the living room, balancing our plates on our knees and eating in an uncomfortable silence.