King of the South

by Read, Calia

  The woman looks at the two of us. When I first set my eyes on her as I burst into the room, a red haze briefly covered my gaze. It was unexplained and unnecessary but disappeared within seconds. Now, I feel pity. If someone is not prepared for Livingston and me, you can feel as though you’ve been swept into a hurricane. By the time we’re done snarling at one another, all the poor, unsuspecting people around us are a bit lost, scratching their heads, and saying, “What just occurred?”

  “Livingston, I need to go.” The woman gives me a furtive glance before she shoots Livingston a sultry smile that even a blind kitten could read. I barely suppress the urge to gag.

  I lean in toward her and lower my voice. “In case you’re wonderin’, the man who you were moonin’ over used to call his underwear wiener wear when he was a boy.”

  I have the satisfaction of watching the female’s eyes widen and Livingston’s mouth dropping open. “How do you know that?” he says.

  I wickedly grin. “You are forgettin’ your sister is my closest confidant.”

  He arches a single brow, and my grin fades. “By that logic, your closest confidant is my only sister, and I know you captured a tadpole in the pond while you went fishin’ with your brother, named it Milton, and then cried when it died.”

  “Milton lived a short but wonderful life,” I defend as I continue to try to grab my bow back.

  “Milton also needed water to live,” Livingston points out, continuing to hold the bow above his head.

  “I was eight!”

  The sound of the door slamming in the distance causes us to look toward his open bedroom door. Slowly, I turn back to him. “I think your darlin’ just left.”

  Livingston narrows his eyes. “Are you pleased with yourself? Your antics scared her off.”

  Honestly, I do feel a bit better. I’m still upset about Miles’s will and how Livingston reacted, but I don’t have the burning desire to kill him over it. “So, who was she?” I ask.

  “Why?”

  “She doesn’t appear familiar to me.”

  “Because she isn’t from Charleston.” He scowls. “Care to tell me why you’re smilin’ so?”

  Shrugging, I lace my fingers behind my back, and try to ignore how unclothed he is. The first few minutes were okay, but I can’t seem to stop taking peeks at him. “I just find it interestin’ that you’ve been intimate with every woman in Charleston and now have to set your sights on the ladies in surroundin’ towns.”

  “Clearly, not every woman.” Livingston’s expression cuts right through me. It’s as if he sees a shapeless woman dressed in a burlap bag. To him, I will forever remain his sister’s childhood friend and best friend’s sister.

  “I must say, thank you for gettin’ dolled up for me, le savauge.” He waggles his brows as he reaches the tip of the bow around me and taps the ends of my unbound hair hanging down to my waist.

  I swat him away, trying my best to shove down the peculiar feelings that rise to the surface when Livingston gets too close. He simply has a way about him that is so very … male. Even half- clothed and bedraggled from the night before, he still looks charming.

  He just had a woman in his bed not two minutes ago!

  That does the trick. Instantly, I come to my senses and take a step back. For Livingston’s part, he does the same, and much to my relief, he grabs his shirt, sliding his hands through the sleeves. Livingston knows me too well and keeps the bow behind him. He can have it his way for now, but I will leave with what I came with.

  “What is it you must speak with me about?” He begins the process of buttoning his shirt.

  This almost feels more distracting than having his shirt off. Clothing yourself is an intimate act that should be done in private. Livingston is so at ease with his body and surroundings. I find myself surveying his room as though this is my first time visiting.

  “My brother’s will.” I jab a finger in his direction. “Shall I recite to you what it entails?”

  Livingston frowns momentarily, and then his eyes widen before he smirks. “It’s comin’ back to me now. You’re my ward, correct?”

  The word ward is like nails on a chalkboard, and I grind my teeth. “No. Not quite.”

  “Ah, but I think you’re mistaken. I’ve read my fair share of documents. The will was quite clear: you are under my care.”

  “I’m not an orphan child left on the streets!” I burst out.

  Grinning, Livingston finishes buttoning his shirt. “That all hinges upon your conduct. If you keep on behavin’ this way to me and bargin’ into my home with weapons, I might have to rethink your future.”

  Feeling more at ease now that he’s dressed, I advance on him. “Oh, Livingston, we both know that will is ridiculous, and you control nothin’.”

  Grabbing my bow, Livingston jabs it in my direction and winks at me. “Ah, but it seems as though your money is.”

  “You can barely place both feet into a fresh pair of pants in the mornin’, so why would I believe you could handle sixty thousand dollars?”

  “That is harsh, Red Rainey. I don’t dress in the mornin’. I dress in the afternoon.”

  With that said, I rub my temples and suppress a groan. I should’ve known there would be no meeting of the minds, but I have to make one last-ditch attempt. “Livingston. Listen to me. Please. This is utterly insane If I’m gonna marry, it shall be for love.”

  Livingston’s brow furrow so tightly they almost connect.

  “What word do you not understand? Love or marry?”

  “Both.” He shudders as though he’s averse to the very idea of love.

  “So you’re not an admirer of love?” I rush out. “That means you don’t think I should be forced to marry someone?”

  There’s a pause before he patiently replies, “I did not say that.”

  I groan in frustration. “I will marry who I decide to marry not because a dowry is danglin’ above my head. It’s positively barbaric!”

  “If any man will have you,” Livingston points out. “Are you forgettin’ that your reputation precedes you, le savauge?”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I cock my head to the side. “We don’t need to dwell on reputations. Must I remind you of yours? We need to dwell on this absurd will.”

  “Agreed.”

  My hands slowly drop to my sides as I stare openly at Livingston with shock. “Truly?”

  “No.” My upper lip curls up as I lunge for him. Livingston chuckles, places my bow behind his back, and holds me at arm’s length. “Rainey, that’s what you get for almost shootin’ me in the ass.”

  As much as I want to pummel Livingston with my fists, it will get me nowhere. I will not win this battle today. I turn to the door, defeated and angry with myself. All I did was encourage Livingston to be an active participant in this will.

  Frustrated at my lack of progress, I shake my head. “What possessed my brother to change his will?”

  “Why are you askin’ me?”

  I cross my arms. “Why do you suppose I am?”

  Livingston’s face remains emotionless. “Rainey, are you suggestin’ I wanted to be in charge of your trust?”

  I’m so incredibly desperate for answers that I’m willing to consider anything as a possibility. “It’s a substantial sum.”

  “Indeed.” He grabs his boots next to his bed. “But it comes at a price. Dealin’ with you.” Sitting down in the chair in the corner, he begins to put his boots on. He keeps a grip on the bow, but it’s not firm enough. While his head is bent, I make my move and snatch the bow out of his grasp. As he jumps from the chair toward me, I toss the bow to my other hand. Livingston stops within an inch of me, our noses nearly touching. I lift both brows and tsk slowly. “Look what I have.”

  “I was doin’ you a favor, le savauge. Women don’t behave like you.”

  “Why not? I can shoot and tie a knot better than most men I know. And pants are far more comfortable than skirts.”

  “If you keep speakin’ in
such a manner, you’ll never find a husband,” Livingston says from behind me.

  Turning around before I can take a deep breath, I find myself in the same position I was in not ten minutes ago. Livingston has his back to me as he walks toward his armoire. I’ve already been dismissed. The arrow moves through the air with a sleek precision that leaves me satisfied. Livingston turns right as the tip of the arrow cuts through the back of his sleeve, grazing his bicep, and settling into the solid oak of the armoire.

  With his arm essentially pinned, Livingston stares at me. Mouth open, and eyes wide.

  Slowly, I lower my bow. I don’t bother to retrieve my arrow. “If you keep turnin’ your back on me, you won’t live to see the end of these sixty days.”

  Feeling pleased with my shot, I give him the curtsy that would make queens throughout the decades weep and my past governesses nod with approval. “Have a good day, Mr. Lacroix,” I say sweetly.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Rainey

  My frustration is a veritable storm, beginning in my stomach and spreading throughout me. Not a single thing will lift my spirits. Well, there is one thing, but I couldn’t even shoot an arrow properly.

  Oh, do I want to turn around and stomp back to Livingston’s home. I want to pound on the front door and demand he listen. Truly listen. This isn’t a time for tomfoolery because my future is at stake. When I walked to his house this morning, I was out for revenge, yet I hoped he would realize the severity of the situation with a sober mind. In my haste to seek vengeance, I had shown Livingston my cards. He saw just how much this upset me, and now, he’s maintaining that there’s nothing wrong with this ludicrous dowry.

  He’s trying to get underneath my skin, and it’s working. I walk into my home and slam the door behind me. A servant in the foyer jolts at the noise, takes one look at me, and rushes toward the kitchen.

  I need to be alone and think of a better strategy to approach Livingston because anger is getting me nowhere. My feet are heavy on the stairs, and my shoulders are slumped. I feel pulled down by the weight of my worries.

  “Rainey? Is that you, dear?”

  I stop in the middle of the stairs and look over my shoulder. “Momma.” I sigh. “Who else would it be?”

  “To clear your head, you were certainly gone for quite a while.”

  I take my time walking back down the steps. “That’s because I had a lot on my mind.”

  Momma gives me a thorough inspection. She knows I’m being evasive. “Where did you go?”

  “If you must know, I went to speak with Livingston.”

  My mom’s eyes widen with understanding. “Oh, Raina Leonore. You didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  Closing her eyes, she shakes her head. “Whatever did you do?”

  Like a trophy, I hold my bow above my head before I place it on the foyer table. Immediately, my momma rushes to my side. “Is he dead? Severely injured? My God, Raina, will officers be knockin’ on our door? My poor heart cannot take much more.”

  Sighing, I place my hands on my hips. “He’s not injured. And no, officers will not be comin’ around.”

  The sad part is my own momma doesn’t seem convinced. “What possessed you to go over there?”

  “Because …” I take a deep breath. “He … he dismissed me last night!”

  Momma blinks. “He dismissed you,” she repeats.

  “I went to speak to him regardin’ Miles’s will, and he kicked me out of his home!”

  Momma arches a brow, a gesture that says, “And?”

  “Raina, you must apologize,” she says.

  My upper lip curls in disgust. I’d rather drink curdled milk. “Why?”

  “Because you cannot let your anger get the best of you. To begin with, ladies do—”

  “Yes, yes, I know,” I cut in. “It’s not somethin’ a lady would do. But I wanted to reason with him. I wanted him to realize how nonsensical it is for him to oversee a dowry, as if I’m an orphan child with no family.”

  “Livingston is a reasonable man. Perhaps he merely wants the best for you.”

  My brows scrunch together. “The last two times we’ve discussed him, you’ve described him as responsible and reasonable. Do you have him confused with his twin brother? This is Liv-ing-ston,” I pronounce distinctly.

  “I am aware of who he is. If the two of you stopped your bickerin’, you’d see he is a pleasant gentleman. Is pleasant a better word for you, dear?”

  “My Lord. I’ve heard it all,” I mutter underneath my breath. Momma wouldn’t be calling him pleasant or a gentleman if she saw what I saw this morning. An image of his body above that woman runs through my mind. I shake my head to rid myself of Livingston’s naked form. I didn’t anticipate seeing him in such a way. That’s why my heart is pounding so fiercely. It’s nothing to concern myself with.

  “Why are you so opposed to findin’ a husband?” Momma asks.

  “Because to want a husband is one thing. Bein’ told is another. I refuse to let a piece of paper dictate the rest of my life!”

  Momma becomes silent for a moment. She stares at her hands before she lifts her head and looks at me solemnly. “You have no other choice.”

  With those words, my blood chills. I look at her from the corner of my eye. “What do you mean?”

  “If you want to have a chance at marryin’ well, this is it. We have no money.”

  The words roll so freely from her tongue. It’s almost as if we’re speaking about the weather. I watch Momma’s face for any sign of emotion, but she stares back at me, nonplussed. As for me, I’m stunned speechless.

  I shake my head. “Momma—”

  “It’s true,” she cuts in. “And it’s been this way for quite some time.”

  “How long is quite some time?”

  Momma looks me in the eye. “Since the war started. Your brother was instrumental in keepin’ us floatin’ along, but …” Her words fade as she looks away.

  But he’s gone, I think to myself. My outrage over the will and Livingston’s dismissal did one thing: it was a momentary distraction from losing Miles. Grief is incredibly complex. There’s no right or wrong way to navigate your pain. You can only hang on as tightly as possible and remember that each day you wake up you are far braver than you know. Much stronger than you think.

  Of course, I’m still in the early stages of Miles death, and his absence still cuts like a knife. There’s an extra silence in the house, a sense of finality that was never there before. Sometimes, I tell myself he’s still at war, but then the truth inevitably sinks in.

  Right now, I curl my hands into fists, so my fingernails dig into my flesh. I cannot cry right now. I need to remain focused.

  “When were you goin’ to tell me?” I ask, keeping my gaze focused on the floor.

  “I didn’t believe I should burden you with such information.”

  I gaze up at her. “But you thought when the house and all our belongin’s were bein’ taken from us would be better?”

  Momma sighs. “It will never come to that.”

  A sudden thought occurs to me. “If we are penniless, where is the money comin’ from for my dowry and what happened to all the land Daddy’s family gave him?”

  “Your brother sold the land throughout the years to keep the creditors away. When your daddy died, he left a generous portion of money to your brother,” Momma patiently explains. “Naturally, Miles set the money aside.”

  I don’t know whether to laugh or scream because the irony is Miles received the money, and in my daddy’s will, I was to receive the home on my thirtieth birthday. A home that we were now perilously close to losing.

  “And please do not use the word penniless.” Momma pauses to shudder. “It’s so … crude.”

  “Crude is livin’ on the streets because you lost your house because you have no money!”

  Momma shakes her head. “You worry far too much.”

  “And you worry far too little! Listen to what you’re tellin�
� me.” Just like yesterday, I begin to pace. I’m not an admirer of liquor, but if there was any offered to me right now, I would gladly take it.

  “I am. I’m attemptin’ to give voice to reason so you’ll see the best course of action is to go ahead and accept this dowry. Take Livingston’s help. We need it.”

  “He’s not offerin’ his help,” I say through gritted teeth. “The only thing he’s offerin’ is his vast expertise in tormentin’ me!”

  Momma says nothing; she just merely watches me. I continue to rant; my irritation is mounting. “I’m positive Livingston has no desire to be the executor. Believe me on this, Momma!”

  “You cannot be certain of what his intentions are.”

  Whirling around, I face Momma. My eyes are ablaze. “Oh, I’ve never been certain of anythin’ more in my entire life! If last night was any indication, I don’t know what is.”

  “Since you have no faith in Livingston, then I will. Everything will work out the way it’s meant to.”

  Momma can cling to her faith. What she doesn’t understand is that only people with money are afforded the luxury of faith because they’ve never been told no. As for me, I’ll continue to cling to rationale.

  But the whys of everything going wrong in my life become too great of a burden. Very slowly, I feel myself begin to crack. All I see in my mind are images of my brother, and I need to get away from everybody right now.

  “I certainly hope so,” I mutter to Momma before I rush out of the room. My lips quiver as I race up the stairs. I’m terrified. I don’t know what the future holds. That’s why I snarled at Momma like a feral animal with its foot caught in a steel trap. It seemed just as I was let free from one trap, I fell into another.

  Once I make it to my room, I slam the door behind me and collapse onto my bed. Curling into a ball, I let the tears fall freely, hoping to release the pressure I feel in my chest.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Livingston

  There were many titles and names Rainey Pleasonton wore well throughout her life. Le savauge, Red Rainey, Stilts, and Wild Rainey were just a few.