Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Ten, you’re supposed to bring Phoenix this time?” At least half of my brothers had gotten it right. Well, almost. He and Phoenix still claimed to be just friends after she kissed him in the third grade. Or so he alleged.
“She prefers family functions that ain’t in such …” He took a sip, then said, “Intimate settings.”
You mean she still hasn’t taken your ass serious? Damn.
“It’s just us tonight.” Tennessee knocked his drink back, then grabbed the one he’d left on the table earlier. “Momma’s dealing with a crawfish order from a vendor. They didn’t bring enough.”
“Where’s Tex?”
He rolled his eyes. “May be Texas’s twin, but I ain’t dude’s keeper. We all know he’s been disappearing since high school. Lemme put something on my stomach, then we can get outta here. Get a proper drink.”
Sounded good to me. He ordered Shrimp & Grits the Block while I second-guessed Crab Boil de Cousin Pookie. I didn’t need the drama of cracking crabs, so I settled on Fiya Bayou Salmon.
Momma came to the table as Tennessee pushed the edible garnishes away. My baby brother still wasn’t used to the finer things in life. She glanced at our empty drinks and narrowed her eyes. “Why y’all drinking like that?”
“You first.” I jutted my chin to Ten.
“Nothing.” Tennessee shrugged. “Just relaxing after fighting fires, Momma. I ain’t even got a buzz.”
“And you?” she asked.
I ran my hands over my face and told them how I finally had Madison taken in for vandalizing my car.
“Non … non … you didn’t.” Momma’s Creole accent became so heavy I could only pick out a few words. Yeah, I spoke it, but not like that. When Momma switched to Louisiana Creole, she wasn’t praying. She was summoning strength.
“Bébé, Momma, Mo linm twa.” I pulled out the big guns, telling her “I love you.” The only response I got was the bayou frogs outside the Crescent City going quiet, bracing themselves as if to say, Here we go.
Voice rough with emotion, I said, “I want my wife back!”
“So … so you forced her to date you? What mess is that?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. I was too old for this. Would I say that? Hell, nah.
“Maddy sat in the backseat of a cop car,” she said. “You had her taken to prison?”
“Jail. She didn’t even sit in the women’s holding tank.”
Her look tried to snatch my soul. “Washington! She was a rich little girl when y’all met. Trè riche! Her parents are off somewhere, enjoying their best lives, because they had her the right way. After they were older. Established.” She glanced around her restaurant, and I doubted she remembered we sat on one of the wealthiest streets. Royal Street. The Quarter.
Rolling her eyes, she whispered about the Spencers judging her for having me young, shifting from Louisiana Creole to standard French to English. If this were any other day, she’d have said their names with an extra cuss word between each syllable, then muttered for God’s forgiveness. But she pulled herself back, sipped her lemonade as if it were holy water, and carried on. “Madison has been through enough, mô garçon!”
“You don’t think I have?” I asked, trying not to sound twelve.
Tennessee shifted, as if he didn’t want to be caught in that crossfire.
“Did I say that, mon cher?” Momma’s voice softened, but her hands chopped the air like she was dicing okra. “Y’all had some years I wouldn’t wish on an enemy. But you listen to me good. She’s been alone far longer than you thought. You think Madison’s parents just up and went to St. Barts one day? Non! They set that whole mess in motion. Leaving the other child to take care of her long before they physically left. That bébé wanna sit in her own hurt! She’s not broken. She’s only learning to breathe again.”
“But we’ve been married over a decade.”
“Chut!” Momma snapped her fingers as if she were closing the lid to my mouth. “The love she has for you is a different kinda love. You can’t walk in and unravel what they steal from her heart, non, non.” She shook her head. “The love you got to give her; you can’t rush it. You make a proper roux. Too hasty and the whole pot burns!”
The restaurant seemed to shrink under Momma’s gaze. “Give that there bébé some time, you hear me? If I didn’t still think she loved you, do you think I would’ve borrowed your car to open up a conversation for y’all?”
“Momma, that’s what you call stalking? A segue to communication?” Maybe my voice raised a little because I was still envisioning how I sounded like a circus act while I’d explained the situation to Maddy in that interrogation room.
But Momma didn’t notice the amplification of my voice. She snapped, “That’s strategy, not stalking. So literal, Washington!”