The Wedding: Dark Romance

by Sienna Mynx

  His eyes open and they connect with me.

  “Brick?”

  He stares at me. I can feel so much emotion by just looking into his eyes. And my guilt sends seizures of tears from me. I go to his bedside barely able to control myself. I weep so hard I have to put my hand to my mouth to stifle my cries. I heard from Marcel about the beating they put on Brick. How they let him drive off half conscious. He ran into a pole and almost caused a major accident. My brothers did this. I’ve never seen such viciousness in my family.

  “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  Brick moves two fingers. I take his hand and kiss it. His finger grazes my chin softly. His touch says volumes. “I love you too, Brick!”

  I want to say so much to her. I feel like an invalid. Fuck this, I am! I must look like a monster to her. She’s crying and explaining and all I want to do is touch her. To tell her that this wasn’t her fault. None of it. I would pay this price or any price to have her. Instead of listening to her apologies I stare at her strange attire. She’s wearing nurse scrubs and a lab coat. It’s amusing to me that she even put the surgical mask over her mouth.

  Coco brings down the mask and leans in. She kisses my lips and her tears drop to my face. I need to feel her tears. To feel something. I’m frozen in this state. It’s the best medicine she can give me.

  “I’m not marrying Xavier. My father has disowned me. My mother has left him. She’s in Shreveport. My grand-mère … she won’t speak to me. I’m staying with Georgie now. Brick. Are you going to be okay?”

  I can move my right hand. At first it was my fingers. Now it’s my hand. I grab hers and squeeze. Her eyes light up like a child at Christmas. I let go of her hand and move my hand to signal I want to write something to her.

  “You want to write?” she asks.

  I pat the bed yes, since I can’t move my head or even open my mouth. She turns and looks around the room and finds a notepad and pen. She comes back grinning. I wish I could bottle that smile. Something tells me I will need it in the months to come. She puts the pad under my hand and I take the pen.

  Your brothers are in trouble

  “I know, Brick. The police have already questioned them. My oldest brother is back in Texas, I don’t know where Nathan is, he took off after they made him… do this to you. Matt, Bobby and Keith are back in the Gulf.”

  You have to tell them to not come home.

  Pops is looking for them.

  She looks at me and I look at her. It dawns on her what I am saying. But just to make sure she understands what I’m saying I write it out clearly.

  Pops will kill them.

  “Marcel said that he wants blood. That he wants revenge. But Marcel says it will blow over eventually.”

  It won’t.

  “Oh my God,” she puts her hand to her chest. I can see the vitality drain from her face. She looks at the words as if they were a loaded gun aimed at her head. And she should be afraid. A bayou swamp death is the worst kind of death. Pops and my uncles will feed their bodies to the gators.

  I’m sorry baby.

  “What do I do? My family won’t even talk to me. They won’t even look at me,” she says. “How do I stop Pops?”

  I will try to stop him.

  You talk to your mother and get the message to your brothers.

  Don’t come back to New Orleans for a while.

  “Okay. I will call mama and tell her. How do we stay in touch? What did the doctors say? Your face, what is wrong with it? Your mouth? What did they do to you? I don’t have my cell phone anymore Brick. You have to reach me at Georgie’s. I don’t know if I can get back in to see you. I’m so scared.” She starts to cry. I tear off the page and write to her.

  I love you.

  Be with me.

  Be patient.

  “I love you too, Brick. Your father wants to kill my brothers. This is my fault. I knew I would provoke my family. Now look at you. I can’t let your father kill my brothers. I have to go to the police.”

  No. No police. Never the police.

  Trust me. It won’t help.

  I will stop it. I swear.

  Just warn them. Okay?

  A nurse comes in. Before I can write another word Coco turns and walks out. She leaves so abruptly I grunt. I crumble the paper I was writing. The nurse frowns at Coco and then looks at me.

  “Everything okay, Mr. Bondurant?”

  I write on the pad. She walks over and picks up the pad and stares at it. Then she says: “You want me to call your father? To have him come back?”

  I blink at her. She nods and walks out. I have to do something to stop Pops and I only know one thing to do. One way. For her, I’ll do anything.

  My mother answers on the first ring. I’m sitting at the table with Georgie and Marcel.

  “Hello?” she says.

  “Ma, it’s me. Coco. I have Georgie and Marcel with me.”

  “What’s wrong now?” my mother asks. I can hear the fear in her voice. I look at Marcel and then to Georgie. After seeing Brick and returning to Georgie I told her we had to go to the police. I don’t care what Brick said, I met his family. I saw what Pops put him through as an act of love. I know it can only be even more deadly for my brothers. I can’t let my brothers get hurt or murdered. No matter how much I hate them for what they did.

  Georgie begged me to let her call Marcel. And together we all agreed to do this Brick’s way. According to Marcel a war with the Cajuns is never-ending. They live for this. Pops would burn everything Larue to the ground and his family would gladly go to jail for it. They have in the past. No one, however, got close to Pops.

  “Ma, yes, something is wrong. You have to call Daddy. Tell him to get word to Matt, Keith and Bobby. And Nathan too. Tell them that the Bondurants have issued a threat. And it’s serious Ma. They can’t be in N’awlins for a while.”

  “We need to call the police.”

  “It won’t help, Mrs. Larue,” Marcel said. “The sheriffs out in Larouche Parish work for Pops Bondurant. And the cops here won’t do anything on a threat. Brick will deny it if they question him. Plus it will just piss Pops off. The best thing to do is for us to buy Brick time.”

  “Buy him time for what? My children are in danger,” My mother said.

  “Brick can handle his father. He just needs time to do it. For now, until Brick tells us otherwise it’s best everyone leave N’awlins. I’m sorry.”

  “This is a nightmare,” My mother sighs.

  “I’m so sorry, mama.”

  “It’s not your fault baby. It’s your father’s fault. He told your brothers to hurt Brick. They could have killed that boy. Heathcliff started this.”

  “It doesn’t matter who fault it is,” Georgie chimed in. “You need to listen to Marcel, Mrs. Larue. These people, these Cajuns, they’re dangerous.”

  “Okay, let me call your grand-mère, Coco. She’ll talk to the boys and your father.”

  “Ma? Are you okay?”

  “Your father has served me with papers. I have to leave the house in Shreveport.”

  “What? He can’t do that!” I snatch up the phone and take her off speakerphone. “He can’t get away with that!”

  “It’s for the lawyers to decide. He says he’ll withdraw the divorce petition if I apologize and you and I… come home.”

  “Mama, please… don’t let him control you.”

  “This is Larue land, and it’s his money. He’s trying to scare me. I called your aunt Stacie. She wants me to come to Atlanta. I’m going to leave tomorrow.”

  “Let me talk to Daddy. He and I should end this war between us.”

  “No, it’s been this way between us for a long time. He’s not going to change. And I’m not going to put up with him hurting you anymore. Let me call your grand-mère. I need to warn your brothers. That’s most important. I’ll call you back. Okay?”

  “Okay, I love you.”

  “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

  I hang up the call an
d Georgie and Marcel are unable to stop staring at me. I get up from the table and go into her living room. The sofa is my bed now. I plop down on it and feel the burden of defeat.

  “Marcel, can you let us know when Brick has things under control. Tell him that we did what he asked.” Georgie says.

  “Yea, I got this,” he kisses Georgie on the cheek and she walks him to the door. My friend comes over and sits next to me.

  “Don’t worry. Brick is going to stop Pops. He has his ways. Your brothers will be okay.”

  “My parents are divorcing Georgie. My dad is going to war with my mother. She’s strong but he’s stronger. She’ll lose everything. She’ll have to start over at sixty-two.”

  “What can you do? Your father won’t listen to you. I don’t see anyway out of it.”

  “I know who can stop all of this,” I say softly.

  “Pops? Oh, hell no. We not going to no swamp to deal with no hillbillies,” Georgie says.

  “Not Pops. I’m talking about grand-mère. I need to see her.”

  “She won’t see you.”

  “I need to find a way to make her. It’s my Mom’s only choice. I won’t let her be hurt because of me.”

  Georgie puts her arm around my shoulders. I drop my head on my friend and cry.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It took two days before Pops returned. He sent my brothers, he sent my sisters to visit, he even sent Evangeline to check on me. I told them all. I want to see Pops. And when he walked through the door I felt like a boy not a man under my father’s disappointed stare. The nurses had given me a small white board, marker, and eraser to use. My left hand was broken. But my right hand worked just fine.

  Hi, Pops!

  My father read the words and he gave me a sly smile. He walked over to the chair. His brothers accompanied him, one of them in particular came in the room while the other waited outside of the door.

  “How you doing, boy?” Pops ask.

  Better.

  “Good. Good. What’s this I hear about you needing to see me?” Pops asks. He isn’t a man to dawdle with small talk. His time is valuable and he makes sure everyone uses it that way.

  Call it off, Pops.

  My father brow arches. He looks at the white board and then to me. He chuckles. His brother walks around to read what I wrote. They both chuckle. I write more.

  I want to make a deal.

  “What kind of deal?” Pops asks.

  Me. I work for you. No more Bone Room.

  No more saxophone.

  I work for the family.

  Pops brows lower and his eyes narrow on me. I know what everyone thinks. Especially my brothers. They think that Pops spoils me. And it’s true. Sure, he’s capable of putting his fist down on my neck, but in the end I have more freedom than any Bondurant has ever had. He was even promising to give me money to go off to Paris.

  “So you want to go into the family business? No more playing the flute?” Pop asks. My blood pounds in my temples. I wish I could speak to tell him to fuck off. But all I can do is write my response.

  I want her to be okay. Leave Larue alone.

  I will do whatever you say.

  Call off the hit on her brothers.

  Pops chuckles.

  “Well I’ll be damn, Beau. Look at this here. Larue kicks my boys ass and he wants to save them for pussy. Remind you of somebody?”

  My Uncle Beau belly laughs. “Sholl-do. Reminds me of Smoke.”

  “Just like Smoke.” Pops agreed. My brows lower and my gaze bounces back and forth between them in confusion.

  “Smoke ever tell you why they set him up at the factory? Why that Larue motherfucker sent him to prison?” Pops asks.

  I blink to answer no. I then write the word “NO”.

  “Same thing as you, boy. Larue pussy. What’s her name, Beau?”

  “Name is Naelean.”

  “That’s it. Creole girl. Pretty. Real pretty. Said she would defy her parents and marry Smoke when they was teens but her family put a stop to that. Paired her up with that pig shit in a suit, Heathcliff Larue. Forced them to marry. Broke Smoke’s heart. I had to hear about that shit for months.”

  Beau chuckled.

  “Smoke then go and take a job in that Larue Rum Distillery in Lafayette. Just to be near her. Had a plan, too. Was gonna burn that fucker down to the ground. Found some valve issues that Larue was ignoring. But someone tip off that Heathcliff Larue and instead of being a man about it and going after Smoke, he go and have his men push two men into them vats, where the alcohol so hot it melts the skin off the bone. Boils them boys and pins the accident on Smoke. And when I wanted some Cajun justice for it, Smoke sits behind bars and tells me not to do anything about it, because that Naelean woman is pregnant with his son. Smoke’s child. And she plan to pass it off as Heathcliff’s. He doesn’t want her to suffer. He wants to protect that Naelean Larue, just like you want to protect her daughter.”

  The story turns the knife in my gut. Why didn’t Smoke tell me the truth? I can’t believe how tangled and twisted the truth really is.

  Pops wipes his hand down his face. “It’s your call, boy. You want to give up your life, your flute playing, for a girl that wasn’t never yours to begin with, so be it. But this deal is final son. You Cajun. And your ass belongs to me. We understood?”

  Yes, sir.

  “Let’s go, Beau. All this fucking whining from a man that can’t speak makes me want to piss and shit at the same time.” Pops says.

  My uncle chuckles. He pats my leg and they walk out. So goes my dreams. I close my eyes and frustration makes me want to cry.

  She’s agreed to see me. I didn’t think she would. Not after the way she tossed me and my mother out of the house. But after one phone call my grand-mère tells me to come home. Georgie told me not to do it. My mom is in Atlanta now. My family has completely fallen apart. And I may be the only one able to fix some of it.

  When I drive up to the gates I punch in my code and find that it was changed. I have to actually buzz the house. Grand-mère answers and opens the gates. My heart is in my throat. In my head I have played and replayed what would come. I don’t trust myself anymore. I don’t trust my instincts or any of my intuition. I’m more confused about the future as I am about the past few months and my feelings for Brick. I park outside of the house. I see both my dad’s car and Nathan’s car in the drive. Nathan’s here? The burden is great. So great I can’t even sigh. I’m just frozen with my emotions.

  I wish I could call Brick. I would love to hear his voice, hear him tell me everything would eventually be alright. But I haven’t seen or heard from him since I snuck into the hospital. Brick told Marcel it was best that I stay away. Well that’s not true. My heart is broken and I have no one to share that pain with. Being away from Brick now is more torture than being away from my family. And what of Paris? Are we still going? Will he ever be able to play the saxophone again?

  Defeated with so many regrets I get out of the car and forget to turn off the engine. I have to get back inside and turn the car off before heading up the stone steps to the front door. And just as I go inside the place I used to call home my father is the first person to greet me. I’m frozen to the spot.

  “Colette. Before you speak to your grand-mère I want to talk to you,” he says.

  “Yes, sir,” I agree.

  He walks off and down the hall. I follow. Grand-mère is sitting in the parlor with her reading glasses on looking at the iPad I bought her for Christmas last year. She doesn’t look up. I don’t speak. First, I need to talk to my father. And I know this is a conversation we should have had since I was sixteen. Now, I’m a woman. But even as a woman I feel like his little girl being called down to his office to be chastised.

  My father waits in what we call his ‘smoking room’. It’s the only room in the house that grand-mère allows him to smoke his cigars in. He takes all his business calls and meetings here. I rarely come in here for anything.

  “Ha
ve a seat.”

  I do.

  My father sits at the edge of his desk. He stares down at me. I find it hard to maintain his stare. I keep looking away and then back into his eyes. “I want to apologize to you, baby-girl. Never in my life have I ever laid a hand on a woman, let alone a woman in this family. What I did to you, I regret, Coco. It’ll haunt me, forever. I won’t ask you to forgive me. Not yet. But one day I hope you will. I’m your daddy. I’m supposed to love you and protect you. That’s my job. And I let you down when I hit you.”

  I appreciate the words. A small part of me wants to get up and hug him and be his baby girl again. But a bigger part of me remembers Brick in his hospital bed, unable to speak. And there’s something about the way he says the words, something about the way he looks at me that keeps me trapped in my seat.

  “As for what your grand-mère tells me. The threats from the Bondurants...”

  “It’s true, daddy. They’re dangerous.”