Southern Comfort_Chandler's Story

by Shelley Stringer

  John came down the stairs just then, entered the living room breathlessly as I handed him his beer.

  “Thanks,” he said, as he took a big swig.

  “So, what do you think?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Well, I think we can sheetrock, bed and tape all three bedrooms pretty reasonably. I have a bunch of supplies left over from another job, and if we need more, I have a friend…”

  Banton interrupted, “I sometimes wonder about this friend of yours.”

  “Hey, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, okay brother?” he quipped back.

  “So what is reasonable?” I asked.

  “Here’s the deal. I’m thinking a trade.” John grinned and winked at Banton.

  “What kind of trade?” I asked cautiously.

  “I suck at cooking, and Banton’s skills aren’t much better. I’m sick of fast food and microwave dinners. Do you cook?”

  I guess, if I was the typical modern type of girl, I would have been offended by the “Oh, you’re a girl so you can cook for the hard working men” thing, but I wasn’t brought up that way. So I replied, “I’m not bad, I used to cook a lot for my mom. She worked late sometimes, and taught me to cook when I was twelve.” I felt the knot again in my stomach, and the tingly sensation in my nose as my eyes threatened to tear up. Come on, Chandler. You have to get past tearing up every time the subject of home or parents comes up.

  “How about you cook dinner four nights a week or so, feed us, and we’ll provide the labor.”

  “Hey, how did I get into this deal?” Banton asked.

  “Well, I thought I might recruit you to help, and then we would get through faster.”

  “I don’t know how much help I would be, but I guess I could take directions and put in some work on the weekends.” He smiled as he studied my reaction.

  “And just how long will I feed you? And how much can both of you eat?” I was mentally adding up my grocery bill, thinking I might be getting the short end of the stick.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll bring groceries and cooking supplies. You supply the cooking expertise and feed us; we’ll do the demolition and construction on your upstairs.”

  “Well, it might involve more than just the upstairs, if we are dining in. We might have to do some work in the kitchen, too,” I explained.

  “Well, let’s start there, and see how it goes.”

  “What if you don’t like my cooking?” I asked warily.

  Banton chuckled, and replied as he laid his arm across the back of the sofa next to me, “I can’t imagine anything you wouldn’t be good at,” He winked. “We’ll buy you a cookbook if we have to.”

  He winked at me, I thought. Was he teasing me condescendingly, or was he flirting ? WOW.

  “Um, sure…okay.” What did I have to lose? And I had to admit, two good looking, strong men in and out of the house every night of the week would make me feel better about living alone. Seeing Banton every night was a definite plus.

  I turned to John. “How will you have enough time to work on this, with going to school and other jobs?”

  “I’m not totally dependent on my construction jobs, my service with Banton in the Navy helps pay my tuition.

  “Both of you were in the Navy?” I asked, a bit surprised.

  “Yeah, we’re both SEALs. Or were,” Banton replied absentmindedly, as he swirled the wine in his glass. “The Navy has us on sort of a ‘hold,’ working on special projects.” He searched around the room, seeming preoccupied.

  “So when do we start, tomorrow night?” I asked as I looked back and forth at them.

  “Sounds great. I’ll start bringing supplies and tools over in the morning. And then I’ll start after class tomorrow afternoon. Just fix a place to hide a key outside so I can let myself in,” John instructed.

  “I have the stuff to fix pasta tomorrow night, would that be all right?” I was already nervous about cooking for them.

  “I promise we aren’t picky. Just give us a quick list and Banton can go grocery shopping this weekend.” John was quick to volunteer Banton for the shopping duties.

  “Oh, Banton can, huh? Okay.” Banton shot him a look.

  “We can work all that out later,” I replied. I wasn’t sure Banton was completely happy with this arrangement, and I didn’t want to irritate him. But he was the one who offered to bring John over in the first place, wasn’t he? It seemed like they were both going to a lot of trouble for the new college girl neighbor down the street.

  “Well, I guess I’d better go look for Beau. He’s probably dug your entire yard up by now.” Banton stood up then, handing me his wine glass as he started toward the front door.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget about leaving me a key,” John reminded me as he followed Banton.

  Banton opened the front door and let John pass through, then hesitated as he turned back to me. “I don’t like the idea of your hiding a key for us, it’s not safe. Can you have an extra key made for us to keep?”

  “I already have one I can give you. Wait and I will go and get it.” I hurried back into the sitting room where I had put my purse earlier, and dug the extra key out of the bottom. I returned to him at the front door, and held the key out to drop it in his palm. He reached up and closed his hand around it, brushing my hand with his. My heartbeat raced at his touch.

  “We’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, then.” He smiled and turned to leave, whistling for Beau as he bounded down the stairs.

  “Okay, see you.” I waved, and closed the door. I couldn’t believe it. I now had a standing appointment to see him every night. This worked out perfectly all the way around. I’d have classes every day until 12:00, a lab on Thursdays until 3:30, and studying before and after I fixed dinner. “The only problem might be concentration if the helper comes often with the handyman…” I said aloud as I shook my head.

  Chapter Five

  Two and a half hours later, I sighed and stretched my arms over my head. I had been on the couch with my laptop, reading everything I could find about New Orleans Voodoo, Hoodoo, Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans, and the African Slave Coast. I was learning there was a vast difference to what I had always seen in movies and the actual truth about the voodoo the slaves in Louisiana brought with them and practiced. It had less to do with black magic, and more to do with integrating their religious practices with Catholicism and the French culture prevalent in the port city at the time.

  I stumbled across something in an old article about Madame Laveau’s obituaries printed in the New Orleans papers. It suggested many believed her to be a vampire or to be a vampire hunter, seeking vampire blood and drinking it, believing it had special powers to keep her forever young. That was an intriguing idea for my creative writing topic; I had just read some young adult novels about vampire romance. I’d always loved “spookers” as my dad called them. After flagging several of the websites into my favorites on my laptop, I shut it, turned out the lamp, and huddled down into the sleeping bag on the couch. Fatigue washed over me almost like a drug, and suddenly I was drifting…

  An olive-skinned man with short, island dreadlocks and bright green eyes leered down at me from above. I could hear the beating of drums all around me. The strange man held a snake high in the air, and began to speak in a foreign language I didn’t understand, French maybe. He danced and jumped back and forth, as if he was about to jump down on top of me. His smile became more sinister, almost vampire-like, his teeth seemed luminously white against his dark features. His eyes glowed a brighter green as he chanted the unfamiliar words. My heart began to pound faster, and I sensed someone with me. I turned, and my mother’s face stared back at me, dead and gray, from inside a freshly dug grave – I suddenly realized I was lying at the bottom of a hole in the ground! I couldn’t breathe…

  “Chandler!” someone whispered forcefully in my ear, like the hissing of a snake. I woke with a start. It was still dark, and I squinted to see around the room in the darkness. I sat up
, confused. I knew I was just dreaming, but the sound of a voice in my ear, as if someone was trying to wake me, had been so real. I shuddered and rose from the couch to check the front and back doors to make sure they were still locked. I retraced my steps in the darkness and heard the stairs above my head to the left creak like someone had put their weight on a step. I jumped and exclaimed, “Who’s there?”

  The creaking continued for two more steps. I rushed to switch on the light beside the front door. I turned quickly back to the stairs, but saw nothing. I felt so silly. Then I thought I saw a glare on the stairs from the light in the hallway, a round, hazy shape, moving upward. As I focused my eyes on the light, it seemed to disappear. The hair stood up on my arms as my imagination ran wild. I thought to myself, maybe I’d picked the wrong topic for my creative writing project. Flipping the light off, I returned to my makeshift bed on the sofa. It was a long time before sleep found me again.

  The alarm on my cell phone woke me at 7:00 a.m. I got exactly two hours of sleep. All of this time in Baton Rouge by myself, and now I have to start being afraid. Coward! I thought, flinging the covers back.

  My second day of classes was as exciting as my first, and I decided as I left the history building I might linger on campus and work on my laptop while enjoying the warm afternoon. I picked a spot close to the courtyard on a bench placed in the shade of a gigantic oak tree. The branches covered the ground like an umbrella, letting the sun just peek through making dappled spots on the lush green grass beneath. As I glanced up into the branches of the tree and observed the moss hanging almost down to the ground like a curtain, I thought, No wonder there seem to be so many people here who believe in ghosts. Even the trees appear spooky at times. But I had to admit, the trees and moss were beautiful with the sunlight shining through. A couple of hours here might erase the gloomy, uneasy mood hovering from my dream last night.

  I settled into the corner of the bench, opened my laptop, and powered it up. I quickly found the tagged websites I had saved the previous evening. I was deep into reading about the intermingling of Catholicism and voodoo when I heard a loud “Hey, Tex!” I looked around and spotted Jamie waving to me from across the large expanse between buildings.

  “Hey, Jamie! Long time, no see,” I replied sarcastically. I was disappointed I had never heard from him, and he seemed to sense my irritation.

  “I’m so sorry I haven’t called – things have been really crazy with classes starting and all.” Jamie grinned at me as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I replied.

  “Hey, I heard you bought a house you’re remodeling.”

  “How did you know…?” I began.

  “Constance told Chase, and Chase told me. Small circle of friends, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I’d forgotten he probably talked to Chase a lot.

  “Did you go through rush?” he asked, as he sat down on the bench next to me.

  “No, that’s not really my thing. I’m really kind of a home-body. I’m not into the party scene.”

  “Mmm.” He placed his arm on the back of the bench. “I seem to remember you like margaritas, though.”

  “Oh, yeah, I guess I do.” I smiled at him. He really was kind of cute.

  “So, how about that date to introduce you around?”

  “Sure,” I replied.

  “I’ve been really busy with rush and everything, I was the rush captain this year in our fraternity,” he told me.

  “Oh.” I guess I was supposed to be impressed.

  “I’d like to take you to a fraternity party we are having next month. Will you be my date? It’s the second Thursday in October, say about 7:00. Can I pick you up at your house?”

  “That’s a month from now, I’m not sure…”

  “Pencil me in. Please?” He grinned again, and I couldn’t see why I shouldn’t go.

  “Okay. The address is 505 Rue Dauphine.”

  “Got it.” He wrote the address on a notebook he was carrying. “All right, then, it’s a date. I’ll see you then.”

  “Yeah, see ya.”

  It took me totally by surprise. I didn’t really think he would ever call, or I would ever see him again. I wasn’t sure I still wanted to go, but we could be friends, right? And it was something to do to get me out of the house.

  I spent another hour on the bench under the big tree before folding my laptop up and heading home. I stopped on the way at a specialty market I had scoped out earlier, and bought some cheese and wine for Everett. I took him at his word, and didn’t want to disappoint. I also needed some canned artichokes and capers for the dish I planned to fix for my newly hired handymen on their first night of work. I wondered if Everett would still be there when the guys arrived, and how they would react to my new friend.

  Promptly at 6:30, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to a beautifully wrapped bottle of wine in a basket full of assorted cheeses, with some flowers strewn over the side. “I come bearing gifts to the beautiful hostess!” Everett exclaimed as he kissed me on the cheek and gave me a quick squeeze around the waist.

  “You shouldn’t have – but they are beautiful!” I exclaimed as I took the basket from him.

  “Darlin’, I’m already in love! You need some old wicker for the front porch, and some of those old antique funeral baskets for either side of the front door.” He took a turn around the entry hall. “You have simply got to see the broken antique table I have in the back of the store – it’s round, and would be perfect here in the curve of the staircase in the foyer! Oh, look at the shade of green you painted the sitting room! That’s the hottest color in design right now, Sister! I knew you had good taste!”

  He continued on and on until he had checked out every inch of the house. We broke open the bottle of wine, and sampled the cheese in the kitchen while I began to prepare dinner.

  “You aren’t cooking all of this for me, Sweetie, are you?” Everett asked.

  “Not all. My neighbors from down the street, Banton and John, will be here any time to work. They plan to work a couple of hours every day, and a lot on the weekends, until we have all the plastering, painting and refinishing done. They work, I cook. That’s the deal.”

  “Sounds interesting. Two guys living together as roommates? Are they…”

  “Definitely not. Total testosterone poisoning there.” I gave him a sideways look – I wasn’t sure if he was asking for himself.

  I put the pasta on to boil, sautéed the chicken, capers, onions, garlic and artichokes in white wine and olive oil, and tossed a salad.

  “Do you cook for them like this every night?” he asked curiously.

  “Well, I don’t know. This is the first night.”

  “Oh.”

  Just then, there was a knock at the door. Everett said, “Oh, let me get it, sweetie. You just keep cooking.”

  He made his way to the front room with his wine glass in hand. I heard him greet Banton and John, introducing himself to them as I finished up in the kitchen. I turned the fire out on the stove and started toward the front of the house. The guys were already in the doorway to the kitchen.

  “Hey, beautiful lady! How’s life today?” John asked.

  “Great. I had a wonderful second day. I even scored a date!”

  “What’s that?” Banton pushed past John and gave me a strange look, his eyes narrowing. I watched his expression curiously as I continued.

  “I ran into a friend of my cousin Constance, she introduced us this summer. He offered to introduce me to the social scene on campus, and take me to a fraternity party next month. So I guess that makes it a date.”

  “Sister, sister…don’t you know you have to run these things by me first!” Everett smiled at me as he shook his index finger back and forth.

  “I’m sorry. I just now thought of it. I guess you two have met Everett. Everett is my first new friend here in Baton Rouge – we met in his boutique yesterday.”

  “Well, thanks, Chandler. I guess
that makes me and John chopped liver,” Banton retorted, seemingly irritated.

  “Oh, right. I guess he’s my third Baton Rouge friend.” I blushed as Banton’s eyes met mine.

  “Well, dinner is ready. You can serve your plates in here, and I finally have some folding chairs and a card table in the dining room, so we can eat in there.”

  “What would everyone like to drink?” Everett asked. I noticed Banton and John had been studying Everett ever since they came in, and I knew what they were wondering. I was anxious to see how they treated him. “I’m drinking wine. Andie?”

  “Wine for me too, please.”

  “Me too,” replied Banton.

  “Got any beer left?” John asked.

  I grinned at him over my shoulder. “Sure – I’ll get it.”

  We ate in the dining room, and the conversation flowed easily from one topic to another. They asked about my second day, Banton asked Everett about the boutique he owned, John and I talked about LSU football, and agreed we would like to go to a home game. Soon Everett was quizzing John about his renovation plans and the two of them disappeared upstairs, while Banton helped me clear the table, lingering in the kitchen as I washed the dishes. He offered to dry. Wow. That put him almost in the category with my dad. Almost.

  “So, where did you meet this guy you have a date with?” Banton asked as he looked at me rather seriously.

  “At a club when Constance and I came to Baton Rouge shopping this summer. He is a friend of her brother Cade. Anyway, he hangs with a group of friends she and her brothers party with. He is from Alexandria – he’s a senior at LSU this year.”

  “What is his name?” He took a glass from me and dried it.

  “Jamie.”

  “Jamie what?”

  I was beginning to get irritated. “I can’t remember. Does it matter?”

  “Well, yes, it matters if you are going out with the guy. What is his major?”

  “I don’t know him well enough to ask him yet. I’ll get him to fill out a resume when I go out with him, all right?” I let the irritation show through in my voice.