Front Porches and Funerals: A Swamp Bottom Novella

by K. A. Ware

  “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 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 the stripper formerly known as Ginger Snatch. “Where did you meet her, Roland? Maybe amateur night down at the Preschool Pussy Patch?”

  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, unsure if he expected me to buy the line of shit he towed. “You didn’t plan it? Oh, that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.” I inhaled dramatically and swooned with my hands pressed against my heart. “So, on your way to the office one day, you accidentally made a wrong turn to the strip palace and dollar bills flew out of your pants and into Bambi’s ass crack?”

  “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 I could teach Sunday School—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 for spare change?” 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 seventeen strains of Gonorrhea 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 cryogenically frozen it until four days ago. Apparently, they’d 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 it 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, 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, landing on her ass and 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 dress blues, the young officer obviously worked out the way the uniformed hugged him with all the love in the world. 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. Look, 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, but, 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, I’m afraid, 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 ponytail swung behind her. “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, ful
l length dresses, and skirts 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 remotely of value I could get my hands on. There may’ve been a pre-nup, but 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’d 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, in the package and ready to use, 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.

  Six

  Roadside Assistance

  Savannah

  Shreveport, LA

  “A pet pig, huh?” Officer McDelicious asked as we waited on the porch for Addie to finish collecting her things.

  I squinted at his nametag. “That’s right, Officer Pope,” I said proudly, lifting my baby up to eye level. “Meet Kevin Junior Bacon Cheeseburger. He grants wishes.”

  His brows dove towards his nose. “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.

  “Yep, 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 NOLA PD day after tomorrow 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.

  “Dick whittler! Kevin Junior Bacon Cheeseburger, you get your ass back here right this second!” I screamed, running after him and leaving a stunned Officer Pope standing on the porch. I felt like I was on one of those dog shows on TV, but instead of coaching Kevin through an obstacle course, I was the dog being led around by a fifty-pound pork chop.

  "I should start calling you fucking Houdini. You know better than to run from me like that," I scolded Kevin when I'd finally managed to catch him. I was still swearing his name when I cleared the rose bushes and the massive porch of the mansion finally came into view.

  "Fine! I don't want a damn thing from you anyway!" My sister’s shrill voice rang out as she yanked the garment bag out of Roland's hands. Good thing they didn't have much in the way of neighbors with the way she was carrying on. Officer hot pants was leaning against a giant column watching the scene unfold with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

  In a flurry of movement, Addie unzipped the bag and tore out a wedding dress. Miles of tulle kicked up in the breeze threatening to engulf her thin frame.

  Her face, pink with fury, peeked out from the sea of white. "Why would I want to remember a decade of mediocre sex and that God-awful screeching noise you make when you come?" She screamed. “You sound like a drunken seal, Roland!”

  Go, Addie!

  With a strength, I didn't know she possessed, my sister gripped the bodice and pulled. A loud ripping sound echoed into the late afternoon air as she Hulked out and tore the top of the dress clean in half.

  Maybe I should try Pilates.

  Throwing the destroyed dress to the porch she turned to Roland. "You may have stolen a decade of my life with empty promises, but I'll be damned if I’ll waste another second of my time thinking about you. Goodbye, Roland, I hope life gives you everything you deserve."

  Turning on her heels she stomped down the stairs letting the suitcase she pulled behind her thump heavily in her wake. "Come on, Savvy. We're done here."

  Since we didn't actually
have an exit strategy, Pope offered to give us a ride into town, saving us the embarrassment of hoofing it down Sugarbirch’s winding drive.

  Addie's earlier confidence faded, and she shrunk down in to her seat as we drove through the affluent neighborhood she used to call home. It wasn't the first time I'd taken a ride in the back seat of a cop car, and while we weren't in any trouble, it didn't look good for the disgraced wife of Shreveport's elite.

  "Do you want me to drop you off at a car rental place?" Pope asked, his bright blue eyes darting from the road to the rear-view mirror.

  Addie sighed and ran a hand through her tangled hair. "I left all my credit cards at the manor."

  Putting a hand on her arm, I gave it a reassuring squeeze. "It's fine. If you could drop us off at a motel, we'll get a room for the night and figure out the rest in the morning."

  "Sweet Jesus, I've gone from the country club to the truck stop in the span of a week," Addie grumbled, burying her face in her hands.

  I was about done coddling my spoiled big sister. She hadn't been born with a silver spoon shoved in her damn mouth. She was born and bred on the swamps of Louisiana, and it was about time she remembered it.

  "Enough with the damn pity party, Addie. I'm not exactly sure when you became a stuck-up bitch, but it's high time someone knocked your ass off that pedestal. So, what if it's not the Ritz with five-thousand thread count sheets? You've had every damn luxury money could buy for the last ten years and what did it get you? A tool for a husband? Fake friends who’d just as soon stab you in the back as they’d shake your hand? A life apart from a family who, as crazy and unhinged as they are, love you? You were miserable. So, excuse me while I spend the last of my cash to make sure we have a roof over our heads and a warm place to sleep for the night. Shit, Addie, when did you become such an ungrateful twat?"

  Her mouth hung open, lips twitching with the comeback I was sure was on the tip of her tongue. But instead of retaliating with a verbal bitch slap of her own, she snapped her mouth shut and folded her hands neatly on her knees for the rest of the ride.