“So, you’re not helping me from the kindness of your heart?” Freddie folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes.
“There’s something going on between us and as much as you’d like to ignore it, I’m not going to let you.”
“This isn’t the time or the place for this discussion,” Freddie said through clenched teeth. “And for the record, there is nothing between us but two incidents that shouldn’t have happened.”
“Incidents? So that’s what we’re calling it now?”
She rolled her eyes and tugged at her ponytail. “Cleveland, don’t do this, okay?”
“Do what?” he asked innocently.
“Can we just go now?” she said with a hint of an attitude in her voice.
Cleveland rose to his feet, took enough money out of his wallet to cover their breakfasts and stepped aside so that Freddie could exit the booth.
She stalked out of the restaurant in silence, because the last thing she wanted to do was think about what she and Cleveland had done between the sheets. Everytime she thought about the feel of his lips against hers or the way he felt inside her, she got weak. Weakness was something she couldn’t show. Not now, not ever.
Still it felt as if his gray eyes cut through her soul every time he looked at her. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t eat or look him directly in his eyes at the restaurant. The sooner she found her father, the sooner Cleveland could get back to Atlanta and they would never have to see each other again.
Could she handle that? Of course I can, she thought as she slipped into the car. Cleveland will forget about me as soon as his feet hit the Georgia red clay. She glanced at him as she drove. If things were different, then maybe she and Cleveland would’ve had something more than a few rolls in the hay. But he had to understand that she didn’t want a relationship with him or anyone else. Not until she knew why her father was running and why he’d abandoned her.
“Are you all right?” Cleveland asked after Freddie started the car.
“I’m fine.”
“Listen, I know this is hard for you. But after you find your father, you’re going to have to ask yourself, how am I going to live without Cleveland.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head as she threw the car in reverse. “What you should ask yourself is, ‘Why am I so stupid that I’d piss off the woman driving, who will leave me in the middle of nowhere.’”
“You’d be back,” he quipped.
“Please shut up,” Freddie snapped. “Do you take anything seriously?”
“I do, but you need to loosen up. You’re wound way too tight and you’re too young to have a heart attack.”
Freddie pressed the gas pedal down and took off, causing Cleveland to hold on to his seatbelt extra tight.
“I won’t say another word as long as you slow down,” he said, shooting a sharp glance at Freddie.
“That was me loosening up,” she said as she slowed the car.
“Uh-huh,” he said. “Judging from that crowd, I think that’s the town hall up ahead.”
As they approached the town hall, Freddie scanned the crowd looking for her father. Did he look the same as he did when she’d last seen him? Her father had a distinct look, long black wavy hair pulled back in a ponytail, a caramel complexion and a beard like a pirate.
Scanning the crowd, she didn’t see him. Freddie felt like a ten-year-old all over again, sitting on the front steps waiting for her dad to show up.
“Why don’t you park the car so that we can look around,” Cleveland suggested.
“That’s what I was going to do, but you’ve noticed that they don’t take too kindly to strangers around here,” she said.
“Then I guess we need to make friends,” he said once she stopped the car and parked.
Cleveland hopped out the passenger side and headed to the throng of volunteers standing near the entrance of the town hall. Everyone turned and looked at him, immediately sensing that he wasn’t one of them.
“Hey,” he said to the crowd. “Who do I need to talk to about volunteering?”
One man stepped up and gave him the once over. “You’re not from around here are you?” he asked.
“No. I’m from Atlanta, but my wife and I saw what was still going on here and we want to help,” Cleveland said smoothly.
A red-haired woman, dressed in a pair of denim overalls and a pink baseball cap, pushed the man aside. “Don’t pay attention to Earl. We’re glad to have you. Come over here so we can sign you and your wife up.”
Cleveland turned around and saw Freddie standing behind him with a fake smile plastered on her face.
“I’m Estelle,” the woman said as she led them to the booth where the volunteers were to sign in.
“Cleveland and this my wife . . .”
“Winfred Babineaux,” Freddie said.
Estelle stopped in her tracks. “Babineaux? Are you from New Orleans?”
Freddie nodded.
“Oh dear, I have to ask you this, you’re not related to Jacques Babineaux are you?”
“Has he been here?”
“Not that I know of, thank God. But everyone in the Gulf knows what he did. We don’t need your help or that kind of trouble around here.”
“Ma’am,” Cleveland said. “We’re not here to start any trouble and we just want to help.”
“What did Babineaux do to make him the pariah of the Gulf Coast?” Freddie asked, her voice desperate.
Estelle motioned for Freddie and Cleveland to step to the side with her. “All my life, I’ve always heard that the only good Babineaux is a dead Babineaux. Jacques Babineaux is a cursed man for what he did. If I were you, I’d go back to where you came from and I wouldn’t tell anyone else that you’re a Babineaux.”
“Look, lady,” Freddie said. “If you know something other than conjecture and legend about my father, then tell me.”
“Father?” Estelle said, her eyes widened in disbelief. “Jacques is your father?”
“Yes, and I think he’s here.”
“Mon dieu,” Estelle said, pushing her hat back from her forehead. “Wait here.”
Freddie and Cleveland exchanged confused looks. “Let’s just go,” Freddie said. “This is just another dead end. I’m sick of this.”
“Wait, maybe Estelle knows more than she’s letting on. Why did you tell her that you were his daughter?” Cleveland asked.
“Because I don’t do subtle and I’m tired of this bullshit. I want to find this man and get the hell away from here.” And you, she added silently. “If my father is here, he’s probably . . .”
“Right behind you, darling,” a man said. Freddie and Cleveland turned around. The man that they thought was Earl stood in front of them. “Can’t believe you got married, I always hoped I’d be able to give you away.”
Freddie folded her arms across her chest. “I have a hard time believing that.”
Babineaux nodded. “I guess you would. How’s your mother?”
“I didn’t come all this way for small talk.”
“I imagine not, but this isn’t the time or the place.” He nodded toward Cleveland. “Can he be trusted?”
She nodded. “Why don’t we go somewhere private,” Freddie suggested as she tossed the car keys to Cleveland. “Will you wait for me?”
Though Cleveland figured Freddie and her father needed privacy to hash out whatever they had to talk about, he didn’t want to leave her alone with a purported murderer, father or not.
“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” he asked as he headed for the car.
Freddie looked at her father; he was truly a master of disguise. He was completely bald, had lost the earring and started wearing a pair of tortoiseshell eyeglasses.
“You look different,” Freddie said.
“That’s the plan. After all, people are looking for me,” he said.
“Tell me about it.”
Jacques smiled and opened his arms to her, but Freddie didn’t move. “So, you can�
�t give your old man a hug?”
“When I needed to hug you, you were nowhere to be found,” Freddie snapped.
Folding his arms across his chest, Jacques rocked on his heels and sighed. “There was a reason for all of that and . . . Is that man really your husband? How do you know he isn’t like the other guy and is trying to catch me for the money?”
Freddie shook her head. “Don’t you dare try and change the subject,” she said. “Don’t worry about who he is. You owe me some answers.”
“We can’t talk out here,” he said. “Someone might hear us.”
“But that lady knows who you are,” Freddie whispered. “How do you know that you can trust her?”
“She’s family,” Jacques replied as he pulled a scrap of paper and a pen from the pocket of his overalls. “This is where I’m staying. We usually get back there around six. Come alone. I don’t trust that guy. He looks shifty.”
“I can’t help that I’m attracted to shifty men, look at who my father is.”
Jacques leaned in and kissed Freddie on the cheek. “Let me walk you to your car, unless you are really here to work. I mean, we need all the help that we can get.”
“No, I have my own rebuilding to worry about. I’ll drop Cleveland off at the hotel and then come back. Will you still be there around seven?”
“I’ll wait for you,” he said. “That’s the least that I can do. And I promise I’m going to answer all of your questions.” When they got to the car, a slow smile spread across Jacques’ face. “I see you kept her in good condition.” He ran his hand across the fender.
“It’s the only thing of yours that Mom didn’t get rid of,” she said as she slipped inside the car. Cleveland was already behind the wheel.
“And you let him drive?” Jacques said through clenched teeth. “This is a Babineaux baby.”
“Then I guess that explains why you abandoned it,” she snapped, her voice filled with attitude.
“If you feel this way about me, then why did you go through all this trouble to find me?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Because I want to know why you . . . Let’s just talk about this later.”
“Fine,” he said as he leaned in to kiss Freddie on the cheek. She turned her head quickly.
“Let’s go,” Freddie said to Cleveland as she closed the door.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes. Thank you for coming here with me, I appreciate it.”
Cleveland glanced at her as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Well, I’m glad that I could help, but you and your father didn’t look as if you all had resolved anything.”
“Look, your concern is touching, but misplaced,” she said as she leaned back in the seat.
“So, I’m supposed to act like I don’t care after coming all this way with you?”
Freddie closed her eyes and didn’t answer. The sooner that they got back to New Orleans, the sooner she could get rid of Cleveland and get back down to Pass Christian and talk to Jacques.
“Freddie,” he pressed.
“What?”
“Are you going to tell me what happened with you and your father?” he asked, cutting his eye at her.
“There’s nothing that you need to worry about,” she said. “We’re going to talk later, especially since I know where he is.”
“He didn’t seem too happy to see me behind the wheel.”
Freddie sighed, “That’s because he doesn’t really trust a lot of people. Especially after what happened with the last person who tried to help me find him.”
“Oh, I hope I didn’t make things worse,” he said, his voice filled with concern.
“No, you didn’t, but I really wish that you’d just drive and be quiet,” she said. “I’m sorry, you’ve done nothing but help me and I’m being rude.”
Cleveland chuckled, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but you are.”
Freddie ran her hand over her hair. “Let me make it up to you, I’ll buy you lunch when we get back to town. I know a great restaurant off the beaten path where we can get some gumbo and crawfish.”
“Well this I can’t believe, Winfred Barker eating humble pie,” Cleveland said as he turned on to the Interstate.
Chapter 11
Once they made it back to New Orleans, Freddie directed Cleveland to a restaurant near the lower Ninth Ward. It was one of the few businesses that came back after the hurricane. Smiling as they pulled into the parking lot, Freddie remembered coming here with her mother and father when she was about four years old. It was one of the only fond memories that she had of her family.
Once upon a time, they had been happy. Though it was a long time ago and much of it was a hazy memory. Just like the day her father disappeared. It was just like the clichéd tale of a dad going out for a pack of cigarettes and never coming back. Freddie had heard the rumblings about her father as she was growing up. Things had gotten so bad that by the time she was going to elementary school, she had a new last name.
The only thing her mother would say about her father was that he was in prison where he belonged.
“You’re quiet again,” Cleveland said as he parked the car in the gravel lot.
She smiled, “I guess I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”
“And seeing your father was a shock, huh?”
“Yeah, you could say that. Can we not talk about him, though?” Freddie said as she stepped out of the car.
Cleveland nodded as he looked around at their surroundings. “Wow,” he whispered, “I guess Mardi Gras didn’t make it down here?” There were still piles of storm debris on the side of the road. A few buildings were gutted and in need of repair. The marks were still on the walls detailing if bodies were found in the houses. It was a different look from the revelry going on in the French Quarter.
“It’s a shock, isn’t it,” she said.
“You’d think this place would be rebuilt by now.”
“It would be if the people that lived here weren’t black and poor,” Freddie said bitterly. Glancing down at her watch, Freddie noticed that she and Cleveland weren’t going to be able to have a leisurely meal because she had to get back to see her father. “We’d better get inside. I have to get back to the hotel and check on everything that’s going on.”
He nodded and headed toward the door. “You were right about this place, it is off the beaten path.” Cleveland opened the door and held it for Freddie.
“And they have the best food,” she said as they walked into the greasy spoon. In a way, it reminded Cleveland of some of the restaurants in Five Points or Sweet Auburn.
There was no hostess to seat them and no pretentious crowd of buppies.
The couple took a seat near the window. Cleveland looked out over the neighborhood and saw no signs of life, no signs of renewal or rebuilding.
“Wow,” he mumbled.
“What?” Freddie asked.
“It’s just the fact that there’s nothing going on out there. No bulldozers moving, no signs of life. It’s just bleak; this can’t be America.”
Freddie stared out the window. “You know, since the storm, I hate cloudy and rainy days.” They both looked up at the sky simultaneously. The sun shined brightly, but from the look in Freddie’s eyes, Cleveland knew a different kind of storm was brewing.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” Freddie said quickly. “I’m just hungry and tired. It’s been a long day already.”
“You can relax when you get back to the hotel, right?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.
She sighed. “Not really, I’m sure there’s some crisis there. That’s just how things work during Mardi Gras.” Nervously, she toyed with her ponytail.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough today?”
She shook her head and dropped her hands on the table. “Cleveland, I appreciate your concern, but you’re wasting it. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time and I don’t need you
to look after me.”
Cleveland placed his hand on top of Freddie’s. “I don’t doubt that. But does it hurt to have someone watch over you?”
Slowly, she slipped her hand from underneath his. “Let’s order so that I can get back to the hotel.”
Leaning back in his seat, Cleveland studied Freddie as she glanced over the greasy menu. A smarter man would cut his losses. He’d gotten a chance to taste her, feel her wetness, and she made it clear that the only thing she wanted from him was sex. He should’ve been fine with that, because that’s how he normally dealt with women. Nothing serious, no entanglements that would last longer than he wanted. But Freddie was different. She was the gazelle and he was the lion.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asked as she peered over the menu.
Before he could answer, an older woman walked over to the table to take their orders. They both settled on the crawfish special and iced tea. When the waitress left, Cleveland folded his arms across his broad chest and looked at Freddie. She met his smoldering gaze.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You tell me,” he said. “I get the feeling that you want to get rid of me because you’ve gotten all that you want from me.”
“I don’t want or need anything from you. See, this is why I didn’t want you to help me. Do you think I owe you something now?”
He shook his head. “Not at all, Freddie.”
She rolled her eyes and watched the waitress walk over to the table with a basket of hot water cornbread. “Why don’t we eat and then go our separate ways? Your visit is almost over and you haven’t had a chance to experience New Orleans. I sucked you into my drama and . . .”
“And we had a great time in your suite and you know that we have something between us. A fire. It’s been building since Lillian’s wedding. I’m game to see where it leads, but you . . .”
“Don’t want anything from you and there isn’t anything between us. You really flatter yourself too much. The sex was good, but it wasn’t earth-shattering,” she spat.
Shaking his head, Cleveland grinned. “You keep saying things like that, but you know that if we weren’t in this restaurant, you’d be all over me.”
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