by W E DeVore
“Yes, ma’am. He is.” Q looked down, afraid she’d start to cry again if she maintained eye contact with Ben’s mother.
Mrs. Bordelon turned back to her roux, and said, without looking at Q, “He’s crazy about you. Haven’t seen him like this. Ever. Not even with Angela. He was more worried about getting to you than he was about getting his head cracked open. Boy’s got his priorities all out of whack, if you asked me.”
“I agree,” Q said trying to smile and failing. “Is his skull fractured?” she asked hesitantly.
“No, thank the Lord. He’s got a severe concussion and eleven stitches on the back of his head, but that thick skull of his held.”
Mrs. Bordelon shook her head in amazement and picked up the cutting board, pouring the diced vegetables into the roux, steam rising with a hiss. She stirred until the vegetables and roux were completely combined, then reached for the bottle of fish stock and slowly poured it in.
She suddenly stopped and looked Q squarely in her eyes. “I know you’ve been through a terrible ordeal and I know you’re worried about Ben, but I have to tell you that if you’re going break my son’s heart, you need to leave right now and don’t come back.” Q didn’t say anything. “I mean it, Q. If you don’t love my boy, you leave.”
Q stared steadily back at her. Mrs. Bordelon scrutinized her for a few long moments then finally smiled, satisfied. “Go on now and get the others, I expect they have loads of questions for you. Those girls have been after their brother to meet you for weeks.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, and call me ‘Mama B.’ Everyone else does, besides you're family now.”
She blushed and quickly crossed the kitchen to open the door. Ben’s sisters all stopped talking the moment Q's face appeared in the living room. His nephew sat on the floor, leaning back against the edge of the coffee table and searching through the channels on the TV.
“Y’all can come back into the kitchen now. I’m alright,” Q said.
The women all stood up and instantly walked towards her. Mama B was right. They had loads of questions.
“I’m the one who told him to ask you out,” Anita announced proudly.
“But he didn’t though, did he?” said Yvonne. “Danielle and Emmy are the ones that finally got it done.”
Anita looked at her younger sister, clearly annoyed. She broke into a nearly perfect Ben impersonation, her voice several octaves lower and gravelly, “It’s bad for business, Nita, you never mix business with pleasure.”
It was Danielle’s turn to show off her best Ben impression, “She’s a musician Danny, they all crazy.”
“I’ve been tryin’, Yvie, I’m tellin’ you, she’ll just say ‘no’.” Yvonne aped, throwing up her hands in frustration.
“You should hear the way she talks to the guys in her band. She’s a fuckin’ ball buster like you, Gracie.” Grace growled.
Q finally broke out into a full laugh. Making fun of their only male sibling was apparently a favorite pastime of the Bordelon sisters. They were soon imitating the way he fixed his hair, the way he shaved, the fastidious way he fixed his collar and cuffs after he pulled on a suit coat. Q stood back and watched the performance, amazed. The only child of a workaholic widower, Q had grown up mostly alone, living with her grandmother, wondering what being a member of a big family would be like. She was happy to be quiet and watch the show.
Ben’s father walked in and said, “Alright y’all, settle down. Your brother needs some sleep.”
Ben’s sisters all did as they were told and started to clean up the kitchen. His father wrapped Q in a huge hug. He held onto to her for several minutes, until Q felt herself start to tear up again and she pulled away, wiping away the tears that slipped out.
He gave her a long worried look before declaring, “Time to go, girls. Mama and me will take the first shift. Two of y’all come back in a few hours.”
Each of Ben’s sisters hugged her one by one. As Mama B finished getting the gumbo and rice in order, Ben’s father sat down at the kitchen table. He pulled out a sheet of paper from the breast pocket of his shirt.
“These are the instructions from the hospital. He’s supposed to stay in bed for forty-eight hours and has to be watched constantly for the next twenty-four. You see that big A.M.A. on the top? The dumbass wouldn’t stay in the hospital.”
“We should take him back, Mr. Bordelon,” Q said.
“I agree, and the name is Ben or Daddy. No ‘mister,’ you hear? You’re family now. You saved our boy’s life. And if you can convince that moron to go back to the hospital, I’ll bring the shotgun to the wedding myself.”
He winked at her.
She blushed all the way to her ears and took the instructions from Ben’s father as a diversion.
“When did he take his pain pill?” She was barely able to read the words on the page. Her eyelids felt thick and sluggish.
“He didn’t. Wanted to wait for you. Afraid it’d make him get some sleep like the doctor told him to do. Like I said, dumbass.” He stood up and kissed the top of her head. “Go on up and get yourself some rest. You look like you’re about to fall over. Send the twins down, we’ll be up later with dinner.”
Q walked as quickly as she could, without running, up the stairs to Ben’s room. The Playboy twins gave her a hug as soon as she entered, blew kisses at Ben, and quickly left.
“They like their new nickname.” Ben smiled. Q didn’t get it. “The Playboy twins.”
“Oh god, they must hate me,” she answered from the doorway.
“They thought it was hilarious. Especially, the part about them making you all jealous. That was Annabelle’s idea, she’s all kind of proud of herself, there’ll be no living with her after this.”
“You’re an asshole,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorway.
Ben smiled wanly from the bed. He was very pale and had a large bandage on the back of his head. “You gonna come in or just stand there?”
She rushed forward and lay down next to him. They held each other for several minutes until Q sat up and stroked his face. “How’s your head?”
“Hurts. And I’ll have a bald patch for a minute or two.” He tried to smile and grimaced.
“You should take a pill, baby, and get some sleep.” She picked up his hand in both of hers and kissed it.
“In a minute.” He pulled her back down to his chest. Q slipped off her shoes and curled beside him.
She laid her head on his chest and looked up at him. “You should be in the hospital.”
“So should you. Besides, why would I want to be stuck somewhere where I can’t see you naked?” Ben tried a grin.
“What makes you think you’ll be seeing me naked?” she asked with a half-smile.
He reached down and touched her face. She flinched. “Oh god, your face.”
“You should see the other guy,” she said without thinking and immediately felt too sick to do anything but clutch Ben’s hand. “I killed Niko, Ben,” she finally whispered. "He was going to kill both of us, but I…How am I supposed to live with that?”
“Tell me what happened,” he said quietly.
“Not now, baby. Later. You’re safe. I’m safe. The bad man is dead and the people that hired him should be O.P.P. by now. Take your pill. Let’s just get some sleep. I don’t think I can stay awake much longer.” She fought the weight of her own eyelids, her eyes burning with fatigue.
“I don’t need a pill. I need you to tell me what happened before you try to find a reason to leave again,” he said as firmly as he could. Ben struggled to sit up and suddenly turned white.
“Oh god! You need to go back to the hospital,” Q exclaimed, jumping out of bed. “I’m getting your parents and we’re going. Now.”
She turned to leave the room and he reached for her hand before easing back into bed. “I’m alright. I just need you to stay.”
Q picked up the glass of water on the nightstand and opened the prescription bottl
e next to it, fishing out a pill and holding it out for Ben. “You’re taking a pill and going to sleep, now.”
Ben refused. “You and me are going to have it out right here, right now, Clementine. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Angela, but damn, woman, when are you going to start trusting me?” Ben grimaced and his voice trailed off.
“Ben, what on earth are you talking about?” She looked down helplessly at the pain pill and the glass of water and said, “Baby, I’m tired. So damned tired I cried at least five times while your family was being so sweet. My body aches, my soul aches, my fucking lip is killing me. I’m all out of fight. You want to fight this out tomorrow, I’ll give you a doozy. But for now, please take the goddamned pill, Ben, and let’s get some to sleep.”
He stared at her in silent defiance. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Q slammed the pill and the glass of water down on the nightstand and started pacing the room. “Fine, you want to do this now? Goddamn! Your mother is right. Your priorities are completely out of whack. You almost die. I almost die. I just shot and killed the closest person I had to a girlfriend, who, by the way, turned out to be a fucking hit man hired by a United States Senator and his crazy fucking wife to kill Pete’s woman, and me, and you’re worried about a stupid fight we had a million and a half hours ago? What in the hell is wrong with you?” She crossed to the closet and took off her torn jeans and t-shirt and pulled one of Ben’s t-shirts from a hanger. She turned so he could see the welts that spotted her naked body and held out her arms. “Perspective, Ben. You wanted to see me naked? Well, here you go.”
He flinched as he saw the extent of her injuries and his eyes filled with tears. Q pulled on the large t-shirt and took a deep breath to calm down before continuing. “Here’s the deal, I’m not going anywhere and neither are you, and I’m not talking about you resting your clearly concussed brain, or me getting some sleep for the first time in three days. My apartment is smashed to hell and covered with your blood, my blood, and god knows what bodily fluids of Niko’s. You wanted me here? I’m here. Take the win for fuck’s sake.”
“I don’t want you here just because you have nowhere else to go, Q.” Ben whispered, turning his face to the window.
“Of course, I don’t have any place else to go. You made sure of that, you fucking asshole.” Q looked up at the ceiling in frustration. She put her hands on her hips and regarded Ben still looking out the window. “Look at me, damn it.”
He obeyed and she spoke clearly, enunciating each word to make sure he understood. “No place feels like home anymore unless you’re in it. You are stuck with me, Ben Bordelon. I do not have a home if you are not in it. You hear me?”
Ben’s body relaxed and he watched her in silent admiration.
Q continued, “I just had to promise your mama I wasn’t going to break your heart, and you better be willing to make the same promise to me. I find out that some of those women hanging off of you aren’t a blood relative, and you are going to be in the deepest pile of shit you’ve ever seen. Especially the Playboy twins… And don’t you dare ever tell someone that I’m a ballbuster or a crazy musician again. What the fuck?”
“Shit. The hens have been talking.” The smile that crept across his face during her tirade widened as he looked at her.
“The hens? The fucking hens?? Those women love you. Dote on you. You are completely spoiled.” Q muttered, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” She picked the pill and the water back up and crossed to the other side of the bed to sit next to him, holding them out in front of her. “And if you die on me, I will personally hunt you down and rip your soul back from the afterlife. Don’t you leave me, Ben Bordelon. Don’t you even think about it.”
Q wiped away several tears as quickly as she could with the back of her hand, before shoving the pill at him. “I love you, now take your goddamned pill and go the fuck to sleep.”
Ben finally complied, still smiling silently at her. She lay down next to him and lifted his arm to nestle into his chest, struggling to get comfortable against her body’s litany of complaints. “I’m going to sleep and so are you. We’re not going to talk about what happened last night and you are going to rest that hard head of yours, before you end up with brain damage or something.”
“Ballbuster,” he murmured sleepily, his finger lazily tracing the back of her neck before clutching her tightly to him.
She closed her eyes. Ben held her silently. She listened to his breath rise and fall, slowing as his body relaxed into sleep. Her own tense muscles responded and were soothed with the even rhythm of his breath and heartbeat. The wind blew through the leaves of the live oak outside and two cardinals sang at each other from the branches, “Secret secret secret. Secret secret secret.”
Ben’s parents moved around in the kitchen below. Q took in a long, deep breath and exhaled deliberately. She closed her eyes and sang, softly, slowly, barely remembering the words of a long forgotten prayer:
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu,
Melech ha Olam, shehekianu, v’kiamanu, v’higianu
Laz’man hazeh.
[Blessed are You, our God, Creator of time and space, who had supported us, protected us, and brought us to this moment.]
THE END
Author’s Notes
While QT and The Beasts is a fictional New Orleans band, some of the music described in this book is not. QT and The Beasts set list at Lafitte’s Cove includes the following songs:
Shake and Fingerpop – Junior Walker and the Allstars
Rock Me – Big Mama Thornton
Handy Man – Alberta Hunter
Other songs referenced in passing:
Nobody Home – Pink Floyd
Pusherman – Nina Simone
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns and Roses
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
W.E. DeVore is a musician, producer, and audio engineer who currently pays the bills by writing technical manuals and specifications for professional audio products. In her career as a musician and sometimes rock star babysitter, she has been fortunate to know some of the most entertaining and unique individuals that seem to only grow from the Louisiana soil. She's also experienced some things that a nice Jewish girl from Montana probably shouldn't know about - but it does make excellent fodder for a little fiction. DeVore has lived in Southeast Louisiana for the last two decades and currently lives in Baton Rouge, although her heart will always be in New Orleans - sweaty, dirty, crime-ridden, music-filled wonderland that it is.
To learn more, visit www.wedevore.com.
Follow on Twitter: @w_e_devore
Like on Facebook: www.facebook.com/wedevore
Devil Take Me Down ~ Preview Chapter
Clementine Toledano Mysteries: Book II
Prologue
Her body glides across the room with more swagger than usual, her hips swaying purposefully towards the stage. My eyes follow her undulating, willowy curves and I am breathless with hunger to be near to this creature that is so wondrously, fearfully made.
She steps up onto her pedestal and her bare ankle is momentarily revealed. The sliver of nudity makes the world around me disappear. For this moment, there is only me and the small portion of bared flesh she’s chosen to reveal. I lick my lips and quickly look around to see if anyone has noticed me staring.
No real risk there. All eyes are on her. All eyes are always on her…especially his. Hunting, searching for my angel.
For years, I’ve watched one woman after another – cheap sluts, whores, and temptresses - throw themselves at him, thinking they could take my angel’s place at his side. And now that he’s found the one he wants, she won’t play his game. She won’t be conquered. He is going to lose this time and, like all the others, she will be mine.
But something is different tonight. Different with them both. I saw it as soon as I caught the look on her face when he kissed that dyke sister of his. Jealousy bloomed from her tight little belly button on up to that long white thr
oat. Her turquoise eyes flashed and she staked her claim on him.
All night long she’s touched his arm when she didn’t have to. Smiled when he called her ‘darlin',' instead of rolling her eyes. She’s marking her territory, like a typical bitch. But she isn't toying with him. She’s playing to win.
So, we’re right back where we started, he and I. Two men enthralled with an angel made real. As her hands begin to caress the keys on the piano, I close my eyes and feel her fingers on my skin in every note she creates. Every melody and harmony soothes me as it brings her closer. Then that slow, plaintive melody cuts through the smoke and into my brain like an itch I can’t scratch. And suddenly, all I can feel is Angela, her breasts under my body, her throat under my hands.
Now I know for certain that this creature and I are connected. And I know for certain that she feels it, too. She knows my thoughts and feels my longing. This song and her voice are for me, only for me. It was always for me, licking my ears and slipping down my spine like my angel’s fingernails, inviting me to come closer. Begging me to go deeper. My angel, reborn.
I watch his face and see that, like me, he is in awe of her. This beauty that’s walked into our lives. This creature that proves that God is male. This lovely thing that was made only for man’s pleasure. He wants her. I can see how he wants her. Angie’s betrayal is complete; we are both already gone.
~~~
The bar is empty now, except for the two of them. I watch them from my furtive vantage point, outside in the darkness. I gaze at them through the window. She sits next to him at the bar, her fingers tracing the rim of a martini glass. She eats an olive in four dainty bites and licks her fingertips, inviting his seduction.
I harden to agony as I watch her fingers on his arm, his chest, his hand. He reaches out to brush away an errant curl that’s fallen over her face. She holds his hand in place, giving him the permission he’s been seeking for months. He wraps his other arm around her, reaching for the small of her back. She leans closer still, parting her lips, closing her eyes.