“Well, yeah. I wouldn’t think Clara was into Devil worship,” Jake said sarcastically.
They laughed at the thought.
“I guess we won’t be getting any answers from her tonight.”
Jake nodded. “Maybe we can talk to her tomorrow.”
“Make sure I’m there when you do. She never answers any of my questions. Maybe you’ll have better luck,” Luc said.
Later that night, Luc was in his room getting ready for bed. He opened his window, turned on the ceiling fan and the standing fan in front of the window. He wished Frank would put in central air, but he’d said suffering builds character. Then again, he was usually traveling in the worst of the summer months. When Luc brought that to his attention, Frank claimed if he got any more character, no one would be able to stand him.
Luc pulled back his covers and noticed something on the floor. He got down on all fours and looked under the bed. There he found another one of those ornate designs in yellow powder like the one upstairs in the attic. It was similar, but not the same. He decided to leave it be. He knew the housekeeper only meant him well, so it had to be some kind of blessing to protect him like the stupid rooster foot hanging from his neck.
He just hoped he didn’t roll over on it in the middle of the night. That would hurt like a son-of-a-bitch to get one of those damn claws stuck in his chest. He pulled the covers down to the end of the bed and left them there before he situated himself across the sheet. As he lay on his back with his hands locked behind his head, he watched the ceiling fan. After awhile, the blades began to spin slower and slower.
Luc found himself in Grandmama Leclere’s backyard in Iberia Parish, where she was hanging the wash. “Jon-Luc, hand me a pin.”
He did as he was told and gave her a clothespin from the basket he was holding. She attached it to the sheet and moved along the line. “You are a special boy. You know that, don’t you?”
He shrugged his shoulders and handed her another clothespin. “Well you are. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
Luc knew he was in his five-year-old body. It was a beautiful spring day and the irises bloomed within the wildflowers. The smell of roses wafted up and tickled his nose. It was a scent he always associated with Grandmama Leclere. Her home was filled with bouquets whenever they were in season.
“I know your papa is very strict, but he loves you. Don’t take it to heart.”
“Yes, Grandmama.”
She leaned down and took his face in her hands before she kissed him. “That’s my good boy. Now you go along and play with your friend.” She took the basket from him and nodded her head toward the sugarcane fields before she headed back into the big old farmhouse. Jon-Luc noticed Charlotte waiting for him amongst the towering cane and ran off to play hide and seek.
When Luc awoke, the scent of roses lingered in the room. The sun peeked through the plantation shutters and the temperature was already on the rise. He stumbled down the hall to the bathroom. After showering, he returned to dress for the day. As was the deal, he was to look for employment.
He galloped down the back stairs to the kitchen and found Clara pouring a cup of coffee. She made it New Orleans style with chicory. Luc grabbed a mug and helped himself to the pot. “Good morning, chère.” He kissed her cheek.
“Stop that you silly boy.” She swatted at him, but a smile teased her lips. “Go sit.”
Luc turned and saw the giant pot on the stove and knew that meant only one thing. “Are you making beignets?”
“Never you mind. Do as you told.”
“But it’s not a holiday, is it?”
Clara rolled the dough and began cutting it into one-inch squares. “I can make them when I want.”
Luc circled her in his arms from behind. “You’re the best, Clara.”
With her free hand, she slapped at his hands. “Stop that. Go on now.” Luc lumbered over to the table and pulled out a chair. “May I ask a question?”
“You ask, I may answer or not.” She kept her back to him as she continued with her preparations.
“Why did you get so upset last night after I told you about my vision?”
“We do not speak of such things.” She shook her head. “Bad juju.”
“But why? Don’t you think I should know if something bad is going to happen to me?”
She dropped the knife with a clatter and rushed over. Luc was frightened until she took his face in her hands. “No. Bad things not happen to you. Aunty Clara say so. You get me?”
He nodded. “But what about the boy?”
She shook her head slowly. “You no can help him now.”
“How do you know?”
“The signs say so. He in the bad place. Best stay away.” She squeezed his chin until it hurt. “You hear me, boy? Stay away.” She turned and went over to the window ledge and retrieved a plate. She sifted powdered sugar over the lot and brought the beignets to the table. “You eat now. No more talk.” Then she went back to finish with her dough.
Luc snatched a warm pastry and shoved half into his mouth, and powdered sugar rained all over the table and his jeans. “Mmm, Clara, spectacular.” He pulled a napkin out of the holder and did the best he could to clean up the mess he’d made.
“’Course they are. I make ’em,” she called over her shoulder.
Luc finished the beignet and grabbed another.
The sound of thundering feet filled the room. Soon Jake was rounding the bottom of the stairs, his hair wet from the shower. “Bonjour!”
“What are you so happy about?” Luc asked.
“No reason.” Jake snatched a beignet on his way by the table. “What’s the special occasion?”
“Jon-Luc pass his test. He now graduate.”
“Hey, there’s no way to know if I passed, I just took the darn thing yesterday.”
“I know.” She came to the table and bopped him on top of the head. “Now you get work.”
Luc sipped his coffee. “You say that like it’s so easy. Who’s going to hire me? I’ve never had a job, so I have no experience.”
“They will, you see.” She opened the fridge and poured two glasses of orange juice before she set them in front of the boys.
Luc turned toward Jake. “What time are you leaving for the bookstore?”
“Ten minutes. If you want a ride, you better hurry.”
Luc downed his juice and palmed another pastry before he scooted back his chair.
“What you say?” Clara’s voice carried across the room.
He turned and noticed she had her hands on her broad hips. He walked over and gave her a smack on the lips. “Thank you for the wonderful breakfast.”
She started sputtering and wiping her mouth. “You, boy, mess me up. Sugar everywhere. Better change.” He laughed as he ran off. On his way up the stairs, he saw her shaking her head and grinning as she turned back to the stove.
Jake’s voice carried to the second level. “What are you going to do with all those pastries? There’s enough there to feed an army.”
“The St. Pierre family have bad break. Their Papa died, very sad. She have five childs. I cheer ’em up.”
The kitchen chair screeched across the floor. “That’s really nice of you, Clara. Have a good day.”
After washing up, Luc changed into his nice jeans and a black polo shirt. He grabbed the classified ads off his dresser before heading down the front stairs. He’d been reading the ‘Want’ ads for weeks, but only found a couple of promising jobs the night before. No experience necessary. He refused to work fast food, so he hoped he had luck elsewhere.
He yanked open the door on Jake’s old Jeep and it groaned loudly, and then squealed again as he pulled it shut. The motor was already running, Jake pulled away from the curb. “Where to?”
“I’ll just go to the bookstore with you. There’s a couple of places hiring within walking distance in the quarter.”
Jake came to a stop. “Did you have a chance to ask Clara about her rituals l
ast night?”
“I tried, but she wouldn’t talk about it. She said it was bad juju. The boy was in a bad place, it was best to leave him alone.”
“That’s just great. We have a Voodoo expert in our own house, but she won’t help us.”
Jake drove a few minutes in silence. “There’s a voodoo shop in the quarter, I guess we can start there.”
Luc stared at him. “But isn’t that just for tourists?”
“Mostly, but they have to know what they’re doing to sell the stuff. Don’t they?”
Luc shrugged. “I guess.”
Jake parked behind the bookstore. “I get off at four. You can wait for me, or take the streetcar back.”
“Okay, I’ll have to see how it goes. If I’m still around, I’ll be at the bookstore by three-forty-five.”
They both exited the vehicle and locked their doors, although Luc never understood why. It’s not like anyone would want to steal the old junk heap.
“Sounds like a plan.” Jake opened the back door to the shop. “Good luck today.”
“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
FOUR
By two that afternoon, Luc had been all over the French Quarter filling out applications. Exhausted and hungry, he stopped for a shrimp po’boy. Most of the potential jobs he’d applied for were that of a busboy in the fancy restaurants. The aroma in each place smelled better than the last, but there was no way he could afford to eat in any one of them. A couple of the managers interviewed him on the spot, but most people told him they’d be in touch.
He sipped his sweet tea and watched the tourists outside the window while he waited for his food. He sat up straighter when he thought he saw someone he recognized. He stared at the crowd where he’d disappeared, but he didn’t emerge again. Surely he was mistaken, but he couldn’t seem to convince his heart. It hammered in his chest as if trying to escape. Just as he began to calm down, he thought he saw another familiar face weaving through the swarm of people.
*
Six years prior…
Jon-Luc had been standing outside the Gas-&-Sip for almost an hour trying to get up his nerve. He watched the amount of customers ebb and flow; his timing had to be perfect. The cashier needed to be busy if he was to go unnoticed. There were five people in line. It was now or never.
He slipped in and began filling his pockets; a bottle of water, beef jerky, potato chips and Ding Dongs. He was so nervous, his hands were shaking. He walked out the door just as a woman was coming in.
Certain to hear the man yell at him at any second, he concentrated on keeping his stride confident and even. The moment he made it around the corner of the building, he released a huge sigh of relief. Out of nowhere, a big guy shoved him against the wall.
“Hey, man, this is our territory. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He demanded.
Too stunned to answer, Jon-Luc just stared. He glanced around and noticed he was surrounded by a rough-looking crowd. His heart stuttered. Sweat collected under his arms. He would soon learn the big guy’s name was Gator.
He held him in place with knobby fingers pressed firmly in the middle of his chest. Spike glared at him from the left, on his right was Duke looking just as mean and Piggee stood just behind Gator. Out of all of them, Piggee appeared to be the least menacing, but Jon-Luc would soon learn that was not at all the case.
“I asked you a question, numb nuts,” Gator growled.
“I, ah, I was hungry,” Jon-Luc managed.
“Empty your pockets.” Gator released his hold.
Jon-Luc pulled out the potato chips, which Duke snatched and ripped open. Next the Ding-Dongs; Piggee grabbed those and began devouring them. The beef jerky was barely visible when Spike relieved him of it. He tore open the bag and handed a piece to Gator, who bit off a huge chunk. After he swallowed, he glared at Jon-Luc. “Well?”
“What?” Jon-Luc asked.
“What’s that under your hoodie?”
Reluctantly, Jon-Luc pulled out the bottle of water and handed it over. Gator opened it and downed half before passing it off. In mere seconds everything had been consumed, but Jon-Luc had yet to receive a single crumb.
“You’re going back in there for more,” Gator demanded.
Jon-Luc blanched. He may have gotten away with it once, but twice? In the end, he decided prison was more favorable than what these guys would do to him if he refused. He inched his way around the wall until he could see through the window. There were three people in line. He decided it was a good time while the man was distracted.
That’s when he’d noticed the ghosts of his great-aunts, Minnie and Maude, standing by the door. Identical twins, they always appeared side-by-side holding hands. They were ninety-nine when they’d passed just hours after one another. They shook their heads in unison. He wasn’t sure if it was because they didn’t approve of him stealing, or there was a risk. He hesitated just the same.
“What’s your problem?” Gator pushed him. “Get in there while the Arab is busy.”
The aunts shook their heads again.
“Give me a second,” Jon-Luc replied.
“What for, a green light?” Gator scoffed.
That garnered a round of chuckles.
A pick-up truck filled with teenagers laughing and shouting pulled in. They wore lettermen jackets. Jon-Luc recognized the logo from the local high school. They piled out of the truck and converged on the store like a swarm of locusts. The moment they entered, the guy at the cash register glanced up and frowned.
They threw packages of chips across the aisles to one another, candy bars flew through the air. The man ran out from behind the counter waving his arms and yelling. The aunts nodded to Jon-Luc and he ran inside. He strode over to the other side of the store and filled his pockets.
He made his way to the refrigerator and grabbed a giant bottle of Coke, which he shoved under his zipped sweatshirt. He waited a beat while he watched the man try to corral the group. Once his back was turned, Jon-Luc raced out. The aunts were gone. He made it around the building to the guys waiting and unloaded his pockets.
“Shit, kid, you’re a natural,” Gator said. “We just might have to keep you around.”
At that, Jon-Luc cringed. After they relieved him of all the food, Gator handed him a pack of peanuts. “Here, you earned it.” They went to the back of the building and ate their bounty in the shadows. The sound of sirens had them scattering. Gator grabbed Jon-Luc by the hood. “This way. We have a great place to hide.”
Jon-Luc followed.
Once they were safe, Spike spoke up. “Gator, we don’t even know this kid.”
Gator faced Spike. “Yeah? Well, he’s a better rip off artist than you any day. So shut the fuck up.”
Spike glared at him. From that night forward, Jon-Luc made sure he was never left alone with him for fear he’d slit his throat.
Jon-Luc became the youngest of the crew. Gator started calling him just plain Luc, he said Jon-Luc sounded like a sissy name and he didn’t run with no faggots.
Gator, eighteen, got his name because he lost most of his left hand to an alligator one night when out poaching with his old man. A thick white scar split his left eyebrow. He wore a necklace of teeth that he claimed were from the same beast. He was big and dark, even for a Creole. He could hide in the shadows better than any of them. His papa was in the state penitentiary for murder.
Spike, seventeen, was a short, stocky Cajun with crooked teeth. He must have fallen out of the ugly tree and hit every branch going down. Duke told Luc he’d killed before, so best to stay on his good side. Luc had yet to find his good side, so he kept as far away as possible all the time.
Piggee, eighteen, was a big-ass redneck who grew up in the swamp. His mama ran off when he was little. His papa beat him within an inch of his life. His papa was the one who gave him his nickname. Why he kept it was anyone’s guess, but Luc wasn’t about to ask him.
He too was meaner than a skillet full of rattlesnakes. His
papa got killed in a knife fight. Some say it was Piggee who killed him. He had a liking for tattoos, he was covered with them as far as the eye could see. That was one humongous canvas.
Luc was closest to Duke, nineteen, he was like an older brother. He protected him from the others. His old life was a lot like Luc’s. He too was Cajun and grew up in a middle class family, but his folks died in a boating accident when he was nine.
He ran away from his last foster home at fourteen after breaking both hands of the man of the house. He’d been sexually abusing Duke for years, but it wasn’t until he turned to the youngest kid that Duke did something about it. There was a warrant out for his arrest for attempted murder charge.
*
Luc kept his eyes glued to the window the entire time he ate his sandwich, but didn’t have another sighting of his old crew. They hadn’t exactly ended things on good terms, in fact Gator threatened to kill him if he ever saw him again.
Although nervous about leaving, he knew he couldn’t stay in that sandwich shop indefinitely. So he tossed his trash and headed out into the street, walking in the opposite direction. He arrived early to the bookstore.
When he walked in, he made eye contact with Jake behind the counter. Luc headed down the stacks of books with no particular destination in mind and found himself in front of the alternative religion section. He picked up a book on Voodoo. What he knew about the subject was enough to fill a thimble.
He gazed at the pictures as he flipped the pages. They were about what you’d think you’d see in such a book; an old painting depicting slaves dancing around a campfire, one holding a chicken up by its feet. Another picture showed a woman with a snake around her neck while she held the head and tail.
Jake came up beside him. “I’ve clocked out. Are you ready to get out of here?”
Luc shelved the book and followed his friend out the front door.
“I asked around and I heard about a shop on the next block. It’s said to be the most legitimate source for voodoo in the quarter,” Jake said. They watched the tourists as they strolled past familiar establishments along the street. “Oh, I almost forgot, how did your job hunting go?”
Spirits of the Bayou Page 3