Swamp Happens: The Complete Swamp Bottom Series

by Cora Kenborn

  Panicking, I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling at the roots until my eyes watered. What the hell were we going to do? How would I get Savannah out of jail in time to make it back to New Orleans without anyone finding out?

  Oh my God, how the hell was I going to walk into the sheriff’s office with a bag of weed tucked inside my bra?

  As Deputy Doogie turned Savannah around and led her toward his squad car, she called out over her shoulder, “Come to the station as fast as you can!” Four steps later, she came to a complete stop and twisted around with a panicked look on her face. “And for God’s sake, whatever you do, don’t call Pope!”

  WARRANTS & ONESIES

  Book Seven #getwhereyouregoing

  Some say the past is behind you.

  But what do you do when it handcuffs you while it's back there? Or shows up on your doorstep with flowers and an apology?

  Others say you should live in the present.

  But what happens when it arrives four weeks early? Or changes a fairytale wedding into a three-ring circus?

  Everyone says the future is unwritten.

  But what if a fortune teller predicted it one drunken night, and now it’s all about to unfold in the most outrageous way possible?

  68

  Designated Drivers

  Adelaide

  Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana

  A day of innocent bridal preparations had gone from last-minute jitters to my elderly grandmother chasing a sheriff’s car down residential streets like a bat out of hell.

  As much as I knew what a disaster it would be, I couldn’t argue when Babs made an impressive leap over the console into the driver’s seat of the truck and turned the ignition. There was no way I could sandwich my belly in between the seat and the steering wheel and not crack a rib. I closed my eyes and offered up a quick prayer that if God would let me live through this, I’d be a better sister, daughter, granddaughter, girlfriend, cousin…hell, I’d even smile at Duck’s ass once in a while.

  “Move ass, crazy lady,” Babs hollered, taking both hands off the wheel to flip a double bird at a woman crossing a busy intersection with a handful of bags. “I in hot pursuit.”

  Oh holy shit.

  “Ten and two! Hands on ten and two!” I screamed, pointing toward the unmanned wheel, convinced I’d have a heart attack before we got there.

  Not only was I scared for my sister’s future, I now feared for my life as Babs rammed into curbs and clipped road signs like it was an everyday hobby. Multiple pedestrians screamed, darting across crosswalks as she played a spontaneous game of Frogger. In her defense, the old woman could barely see over the dashboard and hadn’t possessed a valid driver’s license since 1982.

  As the panicked look in my sister’s eyes flashed through my mind, I couldn’t help but worry about her wedding. She was getting married in less time than it took for me to pick out a pair of shoes. The guest list had been confirmed, flowers ordered, reception planned—all of which would be useless if the bride was behind bars. A million what-ifs ran through my mind as Savannah’s final words rang in my ears.

  “And for God’s sake, whatever you do, don’t call Pope!”

  So, what was the first thing I did after the squad car carrying my sister drove away?

  I called Pope.

  As Babs continued muttering to herself, I reached for my purse, digging around until my fingers closed around my phone. Taking a deep breath, I dialed his number and waited. I had no doubt she’d kill me for this, but sometimes a sister had to do what she felt was in her sibling’s best interest.

  Or what was in her own best interest, because I was seriously about to throw up. And honestly, what good would I be to Savannah while projectile vomiting all over the place? Besides, Pope was a cop. If anyone would know what to do, it was him.

  Justification is a gift.

  “Addie?” Pope answered, concern in his voice. “Is everything okay?”

  “Well…” I drew out the word, stalling for time so I could find the right way to tell him his fiancée had just been hauled off to jail. “There’s been a slight problem.”

  “Problem? What problem? What the hell is going on? Is Savannah all right?”

  I paused for a moment, contemplating his question. “Depends on what you consider all right.”

  Pope was not amused with my stall tactic. “Don’t fuck with me, Addie.”

  “Oh, physically she’s fine,” I assured him. “Never better. Healthy as a horse.” I had no idea why I kept skirting around the subject, but the words refused to come out.

  “Then what?”

  “She got ass hauled to pokey,” Babs called out right before laying her fist on the horn while yelling Russian obscenities out the window.

  I closed my eyes and groaned, regretting the decision to put him on speaker phone.

  “She what?” he roared, and I heard the distinct sound of brakes squealing in the background.

  “It’s not what you think,” I sputtered, trying to smooth over Babs’ less than tactful approach.

  “Then you’d better start explaining, Addie. I think I’ve been pretty fucking understanding through all of this, but there’s only so many surprises a man can take.”

  “Yes, she’s been arrested,” I admitted, the words sounding even worse out loud than they did in my head. “But it really wasn’t her fault.”

  “Jesus Christ. This just keeps getting better and better.” His breathing sounded hard and ragged through the line. “Is she okay? I mean, they didn’t hurt her, did they?”

  “No. She’s a little freaked out, but she’s more worried about how you’ll react.”

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he transformed into full cop mode. “What’s the charge?”

  “It was a bench warrant for unpaid fees from a destruction of property charge.” Then, I had a stroke of genius. “Listen, I don’t know how interconnected you officers are, but if you could make some calls, that’d be—”

  “Where are you?” he interrupted.

  “Terrebonne.”

  “Meet me at the sheriff’s office. I’m on my way.”

  The only thing worse than walking inside the local sheriff’s office to bail your sister out of jail was walking inside the local sheriff’s office to bail your sister out of jail with a bag of weed shoved in your bra. Every time I walked, the bag slipped out of my cleavage and hung over the middle of my bra, making me look like I had a third nipple.

  Faking a sneeze, I covered my mouth with one hand while frantically tucking the bag back inside my bra with the other. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this. Do you know how uncomfortable this is?”

  “Try hiding bag in lady cave. Now that cause problem.” Giving me a wink, my grandmother shuffled in front of me, leaving me standing there gagging like a cat coughing up a furball.

  Because once your grandmother informs you the bag of marijuana that’s currently residing between your boobs has been in her old lady vag, you’re never the same.

  Still dry heaving, we continued into the small room, and I realized I had no clue what to do or say. I’d never actually been inside the sheriff’s office in Terrebonne Parish. When Savannah would get in trouble for doing stupid shit as a teenager, Daddy was always the one to go there to smooth things over with Sheriff Tucker and talk him into letting her go.

  However, as we moved into the small room, I didn’t have to do or say anything. That was already being taken care of when we found my sister handcuffed to a wooden chair screaming obscenities at a wide-eyed Deputy Doogie. For half a second, I actually felt sorry for the guy. He had that deer caught in the headlights look that people usually got when Savannah unleashed the beast on them.

  Of course, then I remembered that he’d hauled my only sister away from me in handcuffs, so I happily stood back and watched the show.

  Savannah jerked on the cuff again, her eyes a little demonic. I’d seen my sister pissed, but she looked like any second some unholy force would overtake her bo
dy and kill us all. “Do you understand who I am, Doodle?”

  Apparently, Doogie noticed too, because he backed away slowly. “It’s Doogie, and yes, ma’am. You’re Savannah Dubois.”

  “No,” she said, cracking her neck like it was about to spin around. “I’m going be Mrs. Quentin Pope tomorrow. Do you understand what that means?”

  Babs shifted her feet, causing her orthopedic shoes to squeak against the floor. Doogie glanced up, his face filling with relief that we were there and then subsequent horror when he realized our presence added to the body count.

  “Does she ever stop?” he whispered out of the side of his mouth.

  “Shhhh.” I placed my finger over my lips to silence him. Partially, because I wanted to hear her response, but mainly because I was worried about his safety. I wasn’t entirely convinced two steel circles could contain her.

  Sighing, Doogie faced Savannah and settled his hands on his hips. “No, I don’t know what that means, but I’m pretty sure you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

  “It means I’ll be a police officer’s wife. How do you think your boss is going to react to you arresting a fellow officer’s wife, huh, Doodle?”

  “I—I don’t…well…” Doogie glanced back at us, his eyes landing to my right. “Babs, can’t you talk to the sheriff?” he asked, his upper lip beading with sweat. “I was just following protocol.”

  As Babs sucked her teeth away from her gums and snapped them back into place, I let out a low curse. Nothing good happened after the teeth got involved. It was the grandmother equivalent of a girl taking off her earrings before a fight.

  Babs stared each one of us down then let out a snort. “Everyone get in pickle and think Babs can fix. What I look like, cock whisperer?”

  For the first time in my life, I wished I’d ditched homework to tag along with my father to bail my sister out of jail. Maybe I’d have heard what Daddy told the sheriff that had Savannah eating dinner at our dining room table instead of from a tray passed through metal bars.

  My sister actually looked out of place in the tiny one-room building. I supposed being a goodie-two-shoes all my life gave me unrealistic expectations of what a law enforcement establishment should look like. I expected Law and Order and instead walked into Mayberry. The room couldn’t have been bigger than the whole downstairs level of my house. There were two wooden desks in each corner with two chairs situated in front of each one. Other than the one cell that sat tucked in the back of the room, that was the extent of Sheriff Tucker’s office. It was more bland than Zep’s old apartment, and that was being generous because Zep’s apartment had the decorative style of a serial killer.

  Crossing the room, I stood in front of Doogie and my increasingly irate sister as she tugged on the cuff so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if the chair rung flew off and smacked him in the face.

  “Okay, everyone just calm down,” I said in my best big sister voice. “Where’s Sheriff Tucker?”

  Doogie peeked over my shoulder, his eyes never leaving Savannah. “He’s out.”

  “And when will he be back?”

  “Don’t know. It could be an hour, but sometimes he’s gone for the rest of the day.”

  “This can’t happen,” Savannah said, her voice rising in panic. “You have to fix this. I’m getting married. I don’t care who you two have to suck off to make it happen.”

  Okay, ew.

  Risking bodily harm, I squatted in front of her and took her hands in mine. As strong as she looked on the outside, it shocked me to find her hands shaking as I held them. “I don’t know how we’ll fix this, but I promise we will, Sav. Your wedding won’t be ruined. Hey, look at me. Do you trust me?”

  “Yeah, I trust you.” She nodded and squeezed my fingers. The forced smile on her face wasn’t quite believable, but I’d take it over the crazy eyes and maniacal insults from moments earlier.

  “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get this straightened out. There has to be some mistake.” I wasn’t positive I believed the words coming out of my mouth, but both of us needed something to hold onto because it sure as hell wasn’t her sanity.

  “Mistake was drinking vodka and riding clutch on tractor,” Babs piped up behind us.

  Savannah’s face went from shaken to horrified to demonic, the calm demeanor I’d coaxed from her transforming into one summoned from the fiery pits of hell.

  “And your mistake was hoarding all the notices from the sheriff’s office and causing me to get arrested in the first place! Babs, what were you thinking?”

  “Don’t know,” Babs said with a disinterested shrug. “Too busy holding crazy pregnant lady’s hair and being kidnapped on sky bus by ungrateful granddaughter.”

  Guilt was a powerful thing, capable of exorcising Savannah’s inner demon and rendering me speechless. The woman standing before us knew how to wield it like a machete. Savannah and I cringed at her accusation, the demon floor suddenly becoming extremely interesting to both of us.

  “Okay, you’re right. I can’t blame anyone else.” The corners of Savannah’s mouth turned down, and I followed her gaze as it landed on the flip calendar on the desk beside her. “This is my fault, and I’ve got to find a way out of this before Pope finds out.”

  “Ummm.” I faltered. I didn’t mean to, but she caught me off-guard.

  Did I say that the demon had been exorcised? That may not have been entirely accurate.

  “Adelaide Dubois, so help me God, if you did what I think you did, you’re not going to have to worry about shitting on yourself during labor, because my foot’s going to be lodged in your asshole!”

  I wonder if Doogie has another pair of handcuffs lying around? I’m very protective of my asshole.

  Certain that I moved faster than any pregnant woman in the history of pregnant women, I jumped backward, knocking Doogie across the other desk. I was in a fight for my life, and if I was going down, I sure as hell wasn’t going alone.

  “Sav, what did you expect me to do? I’m huge, and she’s crazy!” I insisted, flinging a hand toward Babs.

  “Kiss my dick,” Babs said, not bothering to look up as she stuffed a pack of Post-It Notes from the sheriff’s desk in her purse.

  Savannah’s response was instant. “I expected you to call anyone else! You could’ve called Daddy, Mama, Zep, Bam, hell, it could’ve been fucking Duck for all I care. But I specifically asked you not to call Pope!”

  I was the emotional one. Whenever something bothered me growing up, the waterworks turned on, and I was a blubbering mess. My sister never needed that kind of outlet. Whenever she was upset, she’d just break shit or do something illegal. Being a rebel tended to be her release. That was why when I looked up and saw the tears brimming in her eyes, any rebuttal I had to her outburst died on my tongue. My sister was scared, which scared me.

  Big time.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, clasping my hands in front of me. Which was honestly hard to do and appear remorseful when the baggie of weed between my boobs crinkled like a fucking gunshot in space.

  “Sorry?” she screamed, raising an eyebrow. “You’re sorry? You call me irresponsible and impulsive all the time, but this is worse than anything I’ve done. He just forgave me for lying to him about Patrick, Addie! Do you think he’s going to turn around a few weeks later and be so understanding about this? Jesus!” Her body sagged as she collapsed into the seat, the tears finally spilling down her cheeks. “Sisters are supposed to have each other’s backs. You didn’t have my back, Ads, you stabbed it.”

  I thought the two worst pains I’d ever felt in my life were when Zep turned his back on me and when Roland kicked me out of my own house. I was wrong. Neither compared to the soul-crushing pain of having my little sister think I’d intentionally hurt her. It felt like someone wrapped their arms around my chest and squeezed until there was no breath left in me.

  The agony was so bad, it actually felt like real arms constricting me. I pressed a hand to my chest, but it didn’t do any good. The
pain was still there.

  Because it wasn’t there.

  Gasping, I slid my hand down and the squeezing intensified. Biting my lip, I curled my fingers inward and closed my eyes as a tear of my own escaped.

  “Don’t cry,” Savannah choked out, her voice shaking. “I’m not going to feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for me.”

  Concentrate on her. This is about Savannah.

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or curse, but I felt like doing both. Unfortunately, poor Doogie would probably crap his pants because he’d think both Dubois sisters were insane and about to dice him up into little deputy bites and roast them over an open flame.

  Opening my eyes, I blinked a few times to clear them and let out a couple of slow breaths. Moving back to her side, I dropped down and stroked her hair.

  I’m the big sister, damn it. I’m going to act like one.

  “Everything’s going to be all right, Savvy,” I promised, wiping away a tear. “I swear you’re not going to lose Pope.”

  Everything in the small office became abnormally silent as the door to the office slammed shut, and heavy footsteps moved toward us. Footsteps that made Savannah’s uncuffed hand curl around the chair’s armrest until her knuckles turned white.

  “She’s right. You’re not.”

  69

  Jail Break

  Savannah

  Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana

  Panic.

  Sheer unadulterated panic seized my chest as the blinding light of the midday sun poured into the depressive room and framed my own personal boogieman, who just so happened also to be the man of my dreams. I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat as Pope took deliberate steps into the room.

  He wore his police uniform, a sight that would have normally had me ready to turn his dick into a pogo stick for my lady basement. However, the homicidal look in his eyes dried out my nether regions quicker than a Sahara sandstorm.