The Red-Hot Cajun

by Sandra Hill

  He mentioned a sum of money that was astounding even to Valerie, who was used to overblown television salaries. “Do you all have agents?”

  She spoke for all of them. “We’re all using my agent. We’re having lunch with her today. She’ll contact you about negotiations.”

  Mr Anderson leaned back in his swivel chair. ‘The sweet part of all this is that we might have an open slot in the fall. One of the shows we had planned down in the Everglades fell through.”

  That was the best news of all. Valerie knew how urgent time was in Rene’s opinion when it came to the coastal erosion. The sooner this played the better.

  He called in some of his associates, and they did their presentation again. Everyone was enthusiastic, giving suggestions that would make the series even more appealing.

  For the next few days, they were involved in details that hadn’t occurred to her, even with all her experience in television. Everything from voice overlays, choosing which film went in each segment, taking publicity photos, the whole works.

  In the evenings, she and Rene ate out in a different restaurant each night. Sometimes they went dancing. Once they saw a Broadway show, a musical, which they both enjoyed. And then, oh my, then they made love. She didn’t delude herself that Rene had fallen in love with the city, but he had adjusted very well. She could see him here.

  At the end of the week they decided that she would stay here in New York to handle this end of the program, while Justin and Rene went back to Louisiana to get additional footage that was deemed important.

  Before they left, Mr Anderson said, “You realize this series is going to upset a lot of people.”

  “Oh yeah!” they all said, smiling at that prospect.

  “That fire on the boat is probably just the beginning.”

  “As my Tante Lulu always says, you’ve got to stir up the flour if you want a good roux,” Rene said.

  Everyone laughed at that homespun wisdom.

  Before they left the building, Mr Anderson pulled Val aside. “Do you have any plans to return to Trial TV?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Oh yes. A few heads are going to roll shortly, and I have an idea. Well, we can discuss it later.”

  Valerie got a call on her cell phone, just as they were about to leave the building. It was for Rene, from his brother Luc.

  “No! When? How bad? Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit! No clues, I assume? That figures. Those sons-a-bitches just never let up, do they? All right. I’ll be back soon. Keep in touch. Bye.” He clicked the off button and stared at the phone.

  “What? What is it?” she asked. Justin was equally alarmed by the one-sided conversation.

  Rene took a deep breath, then looked at her. “The bastards burned down my cabin... the one I was building.”

  “Oh, Rene.”

  “I was afraid of this,” Justin said. “They’ll stop at nothing.”

  They all nodded sadly. What could she say? She knew how much Rene” loved that place. She squeezed his arm in sympathy and made noises about being able to rebuild, but she doubted he had insurance on the place.

  The two guys flew back to the bayou that night, and Valerie stayed behind, as planned. Little did she know just how long the separation was going to be.

  I’m not missing you at all

  Rene was missing Val like crazy.

  He was staying in Tante Lulu’s guest room, lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Is it too late to call her?

  For the past two weeks, he’d worked like the devil to finish the documentary filming with Justin, to complete the sale of his town house, and put out feelers for a new place closer to Houma, to decide about a new job, to clean up the fire debris from his bayou property, which was a total loss, and to help his family plan Tante Lulu’s birthday bash. You would think he’d be too tired at the end of the day to think about anything but hitting the sack. Not so.

  He hadn’t said the words—out loud or to himself— but he was pretty sure he had fallen head over boots in love with Val. It was the first time in his life that Rene had ever entertained the notion so he couldn’t be sure. But, yeah, he loved Val.

  He smiled to himself. Who would have thunk it?

  Justin was back in New York working with Val on the project. He should have gone back himself by now, but he kept putting it off. On the one hand, he wanted desperately to be with Val again. But he wanted them to be here, on his turf. Selfish of him, he supposed, but there it was.

  Does she love me? he wondered. He thought so, but he couldn’t be sure.

  He glanced over to the St. Jude statue in the corner of the bedroom; Tante Lulu was an equal opportunity giver of St. Jude statues, and Rene had received his share, too. He thought he heard the statue say, Absolutely. It was probably wishful thinking on his part, but it made him feel good to think she might return his sentiments. If she doesn’t, I’ll make her fall in love with me. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Seduce her into love.

  Just then, the phone rang. He picked it up on the first ring, not wanting to wake up his aunt, who’d gone to bed about nine.

  “Hello,” a sultry voice drawled out.

  “Hi. I was just about to call you.”

  “Why?”

  “I miss you.”

  “Come here then.”

  “I can’t. I have work to do here.” It was the truth. He had to protect his family and work with authorities to track down the culprits. He had job interviews scheduled for this week, too. He’d been offered several positions, but he wasn’t sure yet what he wanted to do. In the meantime he’d gone back to working on the frickin’ doctoral thesis. Luckily he’d had a copy back at his town house. “Why don’t you come here? Besides, I have something to show you.”

  She laughed. “I’ve already seen it.”

  “Not that. I saw a small house out here on Bayou Black today that I’m thinking about buying. I’d like you to look at it first.” How’s that for coming as close to saying, “I love you. Will you come live with me?”

  Unfortunately his words were met with silence.

  “Val?” Oh, my God! She doesn’t love me after all.

  “Why are you buying a house on the bayou? I thought when you sold the Baton Rouge town house that you would...” She let her words trail off.

  “You thought what?”

  “That you would move here.”

  Is she nuts? “To New York City?” he asked, disbelief ringing in his raised voice. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because I live here,” she said softly.

  Tone it down, big boy. No need to be offensive. “Oh, baby, I do want to be where you are, but I felt like I was suffocating in the city. I would die there.”

  “I thought you enjoyed yourself here.”

  “I did.” Well, the part where we made love a lot. “But only for a visit.” Like once every ten years or so. “Why can’t you live here?” We could make love a lot here, too. He knew his question was foolish before it left his mouth.

  “My work is here.”

  “You were able to work on the TV documentary here,” he argued. “Maybe there are other documentaries you could work on. Or you could practice law. Bet Luc would hire you.”

  “Rene”,” she chided him gently. He could hear her take a deep breath. “I was offered another job at Trial TV today. Elton was fired and I have free rein to develop my own nightly show. They’re giving me five hundred thousand dollars a year with an escalator if the ratings do well.”

  His heart sank. She’s making plans without consulting me. Hell, I’m making plans without consulting her. What does that say about our relationship? Do we have a relationship? “Well, I can’t compete with a half mil so that’s that.” His heart sank even more.

  He heard her gasp as if he’d sucker punched her. ‘That was unfair, Rene. It’s not about money.”

  Then why did you mention it? “Ambition, then.”

  “What’s wrong with ambition?”

  “It doesn’t warm the co
ckles on a cold night.”

  “I’m not the one with cockles.”

  “I was making a joke.” You gotta laugh sometimes, or else you’ll cry.

  “Guess I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

  Me neither, actually. “Val, you can’t be serious about me living in the city. What kind of work would I do there?”

  “That’s the good part. With my new job, if I accept it, I would have the authority to hire people.”

  “Me? On TV?” Frankly, I don’t give a rat’s ass about TV. The only thing I ever watch is the news and ESPN. And, you, of course.

  “Mr Goodman did say you are very photogenic.”

  Uh-huh. Me, the Fabio of Trial TV. Giving commentary without my shirt on. “Give me a break.

  That was a film about the bayou, something I know at least an iota about. What would I do on a court TV show?”

  “Maybe you could be the average guy on a panel. You know, each program would discuss the hot trial of the day. We could have defense and prosecution lawyers, a jury analyst, and you, the average guy giving his opinion.”

  Ithink I’m gonna puke. “Nice to know you consider me average.”

  “You know what I mean. You’re just being difficult.”

  No kidding! “Val, I am willing to compromise on lots of things, but there is no way in hell I am ever going to live in a city again. I did it in DC and hated it.”

  “So what then? A long-distance affair?”

  “No. I’m too old for that crap. Can we talk about this, in person?” Oh, shit! Now, I’m thinking of marriage.

  What the hell’s wrong with me? I want marriage; she wants sex on the hoof.

  “What’s there to say, Rene?”

  A lot! “I could say why I was calling you tonight, but I guess it’s too late for that now.” Don’t say it, Rene. Do not say it now.

  “What?” she snapped. “You may as well tell me anyhow.”

  Oh, go ahead, the voice in his head urged.

  “I love you,” he said, and hung up.

  He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he—Val stared at the dead phone in her hand.

  Did Rene just say what she thought he said? It couldn’t be. Could it?

  And did he hang up on her? No, he wouldn’t do something so immature. Would he?

  She pressed speed dial. He answered on the first ring. Before she could say hello, he blurted out, “Forget I said that. It was a slip of the tongue.”

  “Oh, no, no, no. Those are words that cannot be taken back once they leave your lips. Tell me again.”

  “No.”

  “Please.”

  “I love you. God help me, I love you.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Val, if you don’t say something soon, I am going to crawl through these phone lines and wring your neck.”

  “I love you, too,” she said in a voice hardly above a whisper.

  “Are you crying? Dammit! Don’t you dare cry.”

  Then she hung up on him. Really, what more could she say?

  He loved her, she loved him, but they could not be together.

  She cried in earnest then.

  Tears on her pillow

  “Now I’m mad,” Rene said the second Val picked up the phone.

  “Why?” She sniffled.

  Icannot stand to see a woman cry. I was only a little k id, but I still remember my dad making my mother cry. I do not want to become my father. “Because you pulled the typical girl trick. Cry and you can get whatever you want.” You are a piece of work , LeDeux.

  “That was not a trick. It was real,” she sobbed.

  Iknow. “Well, then, I’m sorry if I made you cry.”

  “You should be. It’s your fault. You made me fall in love with you, and now you’re going to dump me.”

  Iapologized, but I am not going to let you run all over me. “Uh-uh. I am not doing the dumping.

  You are dumping me.”

  “No way!”

  “Okay,” he said, exhaling with disgust, mostly at himself. “So we aren’t dumping each other. What are we doing?”

  “Talking.”

  “Are we getting anywhere?” Because it sure feels like we’re stuck in idle.

  “No. I think we need to talk in person.”

  Hallelujah! “That’s what I said from the beginning. But I can’t come there right now. I just can’t.”

  “You’re worried about your aunt?”

  “Yeah, I am. Come here, Val. Please.”

  There was a long pause. “I do want to meet with my mother. We have things to resolve.”

  “About your father?” She’d told him about the news her aunts had imparted to her. Sounded like her mother had a lot of answering to do.

  “Yes. And I need to know whether she had anything to do with the bombing or the fire.”

  “When?” How about tonight?

  “Next week.”

  “I can’t wait.” And I mean that just like you think I do.

  “Me neither.”

  “I love you, babe.”

  “I love you, too, Rene”. Are we going to be able to work this out?”

  My gut says no, but my heart says yes. That infernal voice in his head advised, Go with your heart.

  What he said was, “I don’t know. I honestly don’t.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Shot through the heart

  “Valerie! I didn’t know you were back in Houma.”

  Simone stood and came around from behind her desk in the plush office of Breaux Real Estate. Her mother was wearing a pearl-gray silk shirtwaist dress and even lighter gray pumps. There were pearls at her ears and at her neck. Her dark hair was impeccably groomed. The epitome of successful businesswoman.

  “I came here from the airport. My luggage is in the outer office.”

  “Shall I have it sent to the house?” She was about to reach for the phone.

  Valerie shook her head. “No. I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town, and I’m staying at a hotel tonight.”

  “How does that look, that you don’t stay in your own home?” She glared at Valerie in a way that in the past would have made her cower. No more!

  “I really don’t care about appearances at this point. And, frankly, it hasn’t seemed like home to me for a long time.” If ever. She sank down into a chair in front of the desk and set her purse and a folder on the floor.

  Her mother was about to say something more, probably something cutting, but then seemed to think better of it. She went back to her chair behind the desk. “Why are you here, Valerie?”

  “I came primarily to see you.”

  Her mother arched her perfect, dyed eyebrows. “You’ve done enough harm by barreling ahead with that... that propaganda piece. What next? A National Enquirer expose?”

  Valerie ignored the venom in her mother’s voice. “There are two reasons I want to talk with you. Did you have anything to do with the boat bomb or the fire at Rene’s cabin?”

  “No,” she said without hesitation, “but I must say that I think both were well-deserved.”

  Valerie gasped at her mother’s insensitivity. “How can you say that? Someone could have been hurt or killed. I, your own daughter, could have been on board that boat.”

  Her mother dismissed that possibility with an airy wave of her hand. “It was no accident that the boat was empty when the dynamite was set off.” She paused, then to avoid culpability added, “In my opinion, anyway.”

  “You know who did it, don’t you?”

  She shrugged. “I have my suspicions.”

  “Have you told the police?”

  “Of course not. Why would I do that?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do?”

  “It depends on what your definition of what right is, doesn’t it?”

  “How about the telephone calls and Rene’s mortgage being called in? Did you have anything to do with those?”

  Her mother just smiled smugly.

  Valerie shook h
er head at the hopelessness of trying to reach her mother. “There are things I know about you... and our family. If you do one more thing, just one, you are going to read about yourself in the local newspapers.”

  Her mother’s face reddened with anger. “Are you threatening me?”

  “Damn right I am.” She picked up the folder from the floor and held it up for demonstration. “There’s stuff in these folders that would blow the lid off this town.”

  “You are an evil child.”

  “Think so? How do you think your colleagues would treat you if they knew you used to lock your child in a closet, repeatedly? What do you think the press would do if I led them to some files that show exactly how you got permits for Bayou Paradise? I wonder how Aunt Inez’s career as a congresswoman would go if it came out that Grandmother Dixie filtered oil money into her campaign coffers? And that’s just for a start.”

  “Get out,” her mother said in a level voice. She never shouted so this was the equivalent of her shouting.

  “Not until I finish. Do you promise there will be no more dirty tricks?”

  Her mother looked as if she’d like to spit on her, but finally she nodded. “Now go, and I don’t care if you ever come back.”

  “Not yet. There’s one other thing. It’s about my father.”

  Her mother rolled her eyes. “That bastard!”

  “All my life you told me that Daddy didn’t want me... that when he left, he was leaving both of us.”

  “So?”

  “I learned recently that my father waged a custody battle for me.”

  “It was just to get back at me. He didn’t really want you.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me that he wanted custody, even partial custody?”

  “Why should I have? He was a weak man. He backed down the minute I threatened to fight the divorce. That’s how much he wanted you.”

  Valerie winced at what was probably the truth. “Has he ever tried to make contact with me over the years?”

  Her mother studied her fingernails and did not answer.

  “Did he ever come back to Houma?”

  “Several times when you were little,” she admitted.

  “And?”

  “It wasn’t convenient for me to arrange any visits. Besides, it would have just set you to whining again for your father once he left. Separations are best when the cut is final.”