by Cora Kenborn
“Where are you going?” I asked, racing to catch up with him.
“To find an antacid and alcohol. And not necessarily in that order.”
Twenty minutes and a pack of Rolaids later, Pope and I sat at a dive bar on Canal Street. I’d never been there before, but after Pope said it was low on prices and tourists, I was sold. Too many bars in New Orleans catered to the beads and tits crowd, and that wasn’t my scene. Especially since Addie came back into town.
Holding his beer by the neck, Pope turned it up and downed half of it as patrons waved dollar bills at the bartender. “So, that was interesting.”
“Babs is harmless.”
He snorted, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “So is a car until it runs over you and drags you across the highway.”
“You just have to read between the lines with Babs. She’s a little rough around the edges, but she means well. She loves those girls more than life itself, and in her own way, she’s just trying to protect them.”
Whoa. Where did that come from?
I just spent the last hour being interrogated by Bam Corleone and his geriatric enforcer, and now I was defending them. What was wrong with me? Apparently, not only had Addie mindfucked me, but her entire family had crawled into my brain and worked some Dubois black magic that had me justifying every psychotic move they made.
Jesus, I have it bad.
Pope shot me a look out of the corner of his eye. “By threatening to shove our balls down our throats until we suffocate?”
“I didn’t say she was conventional.”
“I think she hates me. Especially since Savannah went back to Terrebonne after our last fight, and I brought her back. When Sav gets mad, she says a lot of shit she doesn’t mean. We both do. We’ve made a lot of mistakes, and we seem to keep making them.”
He frowned, and my eyes darted around the room uncomfortably. I wasn’t into this much guy-bonding, and Pope was starting to share more than I was comfortable with. A small part of me wondered if I’d made a bad call in inviting him here.
“I keep thinking there can’t possibly be another ‘thing’ we have to get past, but I’m continually proven wrong,” he added.
Against my better judgment, advice fell out of my mouth like some fucking talk show host. “Man, there’s always going to be ‘things’ with Sav. That girl is a perpetual thing.”
He shook his head, his jaw tight. “You don’t know her like I do.”
And here’s where the pissing match begins.
“No? I’ll bet you I know more about her than you do.”
“Doubtful.”
“Okay,” I proposed, throwing a twenty-dollar bill on the bar. “I’ll bet the next two rounds that I can name five things about Savannah you don’t know.”
Diving his hand into his pocket, he produced an identical twenty-dollar bill and slammed it on top of mine. “You’re on.”
At that moment, I realized he thought I was bluffing. The guy seriously thought I was hustling him and that I didn’t grow up living and breathing everything Dubois like they were the first family of Terrebonne.
Welcome to class, officer.
“What’s Savannah’s favorite color? What’s her middle name? What sport did she play in high school? What was her first boyfriend’s name? And what’s her biggest fear?” Crossing my arms, I sat back with a shit-eating grin I knew had to reach from one ear to the other.
The smile that had just painted Pope’s face slowly faded to a bewildered scowl. The prominent vein in his temple pulsed with tension, and although I genuinely liked the guy, the alpha male in me ate that shit up with a spoon.
Sitting back in my chair, I made an unnecessary production of clearing my throat and ticking each item off on my finger just to be a dick. “One, it’s black because Sav thinks colors are for pussies. Two, it’s Lynn, and she hates it. That’s why you don’t know it’s her middle name. Three, she tried out for the volleyball team but ended up getting into a fight with some girl for getting in her way, so they cut her. Four, it’s a trick question because Savannah doesn’t believe in labels, so she didn’t have boyfriends in high school. And five, she’ll tell you it’s snakes, but honestly, it’s disappointing her sister because she’s the only one who matters to her.”
I felt victorious until Pope’s face turned white. “Did you and Savannah…”
The horrified look on his face threw me, but once I realized what he meant, I wanted to punch him. “Hell no! Jesus, man, Sav is like a sister to me.” Relief flooded his face, and I swore I saw a trace of crazy fade from his eyes. I couldn’t fault him for it. If I sat next to a man I thought had stuck his dick in Addie, I’d lose my mind. “No, we’ve just always clicked that way, ya know? We just get each other.”
“So, what do I do?”
“Figure your shit out, that’s what.”
“Wow, thanks, Zep. Why didn’t I think of that?” Rolling his eyes, Pope pulled his beer to his mouth.
“Sav is a straight shooter. Always has been. If you dick her around and lie, you’ll lose her. It’s that simple. Plus, I’ve gotta tell you man, as much as I like you, if you hurt her, I’ll fuck up what’s left after Babs is done.”
“What is it with you people and threatening cops?”
“I don’t see a uniform, Nancy,” I pointed out, motioning to his jeans and button-down shirt. “Besides, why are you asking me for advice? Haven’t you noticed I’m in a fucking threesome with Addie and her douchebag ex?”
“Do you want some insight into Addie?”
“Don’t need it. I’ve known Addie a hell of lot longer than you. There’s nothing you could tell me I don’t already know.”
After motioning to the bartender for another round, Pope’s eyes took on a squinty glaze I didn’t like. “Are you sure about that? Addie and I come from similar backgrounds, Zep.”
“Really? Did you take the same class on how to make me want to drive an ice pick into my temple?”
Pope chuckled. “One thing I don’t understand is why you didn’t seem surprised when Bam-Bam brought up my family.”
“Oh, that you’re a senator’s son and loaded as fuck?”
His forehead wrinkled. “How did you know?”
“Do I look stupid to you, Pope?” I asked as we shifted to accommodate the crowding bar. “It’s not exactly a common name, and if you think I don’t look into everyone who hangs around Addie, then you don’t know shit about me. The minute I saw you talk to her outside that bar at Mardi Gras, I did recon on your ass.”
Placing his beer down, Pope crossed his arms and stared at me with a mix of respect and intrigue. “Then you knew I was hiding it from Savannah. Why didn’t you rat me out?”
“You obviously had your reasons,” I explained, giving him enough of an answer to placate him while still being vague enough to protect Addie and Savvy should I end up being wrong about him. “It’s not like you’re some serial killer hell-bent on mounting all the Dubois’ heads on your wall. I figured you’d come clean eventually.”
“And if I didn’t?” he asked, tipping his beer toward me.
“We wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
I knew who Quentin Pope was and who he was connected to. I knew who his daddy was and how he could buy and sell every damn one of us five or six times over. Savannah may not be blood, but I wouldn’t sit by and watch her get fucked over by any man, regardless of how many offshore bank accounts he had.
“Understood.” Taking another long drink, he sat thoughtfully for a moment before pulling the rug out from under me. “Here’s the deal about Addie—”
All I could muster was a hardened look. “I don’t remember asking.”
Ignoring me, Pope rubbed the corners of his mouth and continued. “Addie and I both had controlling male figures in our lives who manipulated us with money and placed expectations on us not a lot of people could understand.”
“Addie’s not that person anymore.” I didn’t need him to tell me who Addie was. I knew th
e woman she’d been and the one she’d become. It didn’t matter whether she was the innocent girl who’d saved me from a life on the streets or a broken trophy wife. She’d always be the light to my darkness.
“People don’t change overnight, trust me,” he offered, the muscles in his neck tightening. “It’s hard to break away from that type of power. It leaves scars. Roland Bordeaux is some prick, I’ll tell you that.”
That got my attention. “You’ve met him?”
He nodded. “First time I met Savannah. It was when Addie and Savannah went back to Shreveport to get Addie’s things, and Bordeaux called the cops on her. I got the call. You should’ve heard the way he talked to her. Man, I didn’t even know her then, and I wanted to kick his ass.” He balled his fist as if reliving the moment in his head. “If I hadn’t been in uniform, I might have done it as a gift to humanity.”
“I hate that motherfucker,” I growled, squeezing the beer bottle in my hand. At just the right pressure, I could pretend it was Bordeaux’s neck. “I called him to put pressure on him about signing the divorce papers. He said some shit about Addie, and it got to me. I told him if he touched her, I’d kill him.”
“I can’t hear this, LeBlanc. Don’t tell me anything I could be forced to use against you in court.”
An incredulous laugh rumbled through my chest. “So, what am I supposed to do? Just take it?”
“Yes,” he said, looking at me like I’d asked him if the sky was fucking blue. “Look, Addie has been pushed around by this dick for ten years, and she’s just now getting her independence back. If you beat your chest and swing from trees like you’re going to throw her over your shoulder, she’s going to push back.”
“Even when I don’t push her she pushes back.”
“Is she worth it?”
Is air worth breathing? Is food worth eating?
“More than you know.”
“Then let her make the call. You need to show her you’re everything Roland Bordeaux isn’t. Show her an entirely opposite world to live in.”
We sat in silence for a good thirty seconds before I finally broke it. “You realize we couldn’t have picked two more stubborn and frustrating women to love, don’t you?”
“Do you?” he asked, tilting his chin.
“Do I what?”
“Love Addie.”
For some reason, admitting to it Quentin Pope didn’t bother me. “Yeah, I do. You?”
“Love Savannah? Absolutely.”
“Then get your game face on for Saturday, officer. You haven’t lived until you’ve been to a Dubois barbecue.” Tilting my beer bottle in, I clinked it against his as his lip curled up at our newly forged brotherhood. “Welcome to the jungle, man.”
40
An Alternate Universe
Zephirin
New Orleans, Louisiana
We hit a wave, and Addie screamed as her ass flew up in the air and slammed back down with a thud. “Is this your idea of not trying to shock me?”
Skimming across the open water on Friday evening, I bit my lip, holding back a laugh as I drove at full throttle, the boat swaying with every wave. Addie held onto the seat with a death grip, and I turned into every swell just to watch her bounce around on the seat behind me. Even with her cheeks puffed out and the wind whipping her hair around her face like a tornado, she still took my breath away.
“Hold on,” I called out over my shoulder, taking a hard right.
Pope told me to show Addie a completely opposite life than the one she’d lived with Bordeaux. There was only one way I knew to do that.
Bring her into my world.
If Addie wanted to be with me, she needed to see the kind of life she’d be agreeing to first-hand. There’d be no tea parties or country clubs on my arm. Addie’s life would go from trust fund to paycheck and champagne to six-pack. Bringing her here this evening was less of a date and more of a test.
As I gauged our depth on the monitors, I caught her staring at me with a mix of fury and curiosity while bouncing her high heel on her toe in time with the motor. She looked completely out of her element in a lacy white dress that hugged her curves in just the right way. There was something insanely hot about a woman who was oblivious to her sex appeal. I knew Addie well enough to know she thought she looked simple, clueless she’d become the official face for blue balls everywhere.
I was so enthralled in trying to catch a glimpse of bare skin under all that lace that by the time I noticed we’d entered a no wake zone, it was too late. Letting out a string of curses, I pulled back on the throttle, causing the bow of the boat to pull up and Addie’s legs to fly out from under her. She landed on her ass with a grunt with her dress bunched up around her hips, and I sucked in a hard breath.
My mother.
Bam-Bam eating a sandwich.
Old men in Speedos.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I forced myself to flip through my mental file of every horrific cockblocking image known to man. I brought Addie out here to show her what I had to offer, not that I could pop my own rod within ten seconds.
Look, Ma, no hands.
Finally managing to get my body at half-mast, I risked a glance at her. She’d climbed back onto her seat and held her long hair on top of her hand with a death grip as the wind pelted her. She was silent, but from the way she pressed her lips together, I knew shit was about to go down. Either she was sea sick or plotting how best to tie weights to my ankles and toss me overboard.
After turning off the ignition, I lowered the anchor over the bow and cinched it off. Grabbing my Saints baseball hat out of the console, I raised an eyebrow before tossing it in her lap. “You’re not gonna puke, are you? I just cleaned this boat.”
Holding her stomach with one hand, she put the hat on with the other and pulled it low over her eyes while tucking a stray hair underneath. “It smells like rotten asshole out here. How do you do this every day and not pass out?”
I couldn’t hold in my laugh as I pulled out my rod and reel and opened the live tank. “You sure have climbed up from those roots, haven’t you, Snow White?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Chasing the bait fish around the tank, I finally caught one and hooked it on the line, watching Addie’s face contort from curiosity to disgust. “Ever been fishing, Addie?”
“Plenty of times.”
Pulling the rod over my shoulder, I paused and gave her a look that called her on her bullshit.
“Okay, once or twice when I was young. Pappy and Sav would leave at the crack of dawn, and I’d watch from the window. It just wasn’t my thing.” Adjusting the brim of the hat, she sniffled and glanced away.
Satisfied with her answer, I released the bail and let the line fly out over the water. “You own half a fishing company, and it’s not your thing?”
“I own half a business, Zep. Business is business. It doesn’t matter what I’m selling.”
As much as it’d probably come back and bite me in the ass, I couldn’t resist a chance to fuck with her. Securing the pole into the mounted rod holder, I issued a challenge. “Sell me.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I said, closing the distance between us. “Sell me on DuBlanc, Miss CEO. You said you could sell anything. So, sell me.” Her breathing picked up as I placed a hand on either side of her ass, boxing her in.
“This is ridiculous,” she argued, her cheeks heating. “I’m not selling you shit. I’m hungry, and you’re supposed to be taking me to dinner.”
“Oh, I will. Just as soon as you sell me on our business. Of course, if you don’t think you have what it takes, we can just—”
“Hi, my name is Adelaide Dubois, and I’m the CEO of DuBlanc Fishery.” On her feet before I could finish my thought, Addie shifted from defensive maritime hostage to corporate shark with a winning smile and polished stance. “I noticed we aren’t your major supplier. Several of your competitors are already using us with happy customers and no complaints. What ca
n we do to make our business your first choice?” Folding her arms across her chest, she jutted her chin out, a look of superiority plastered across her face.
I sat quietly waiting for her to finish, and when she just stared at me with her shoulders thrown back, my mouth dropped open. “I hope you’re showing your tits when you go in there because that’s the worst sales pitch I’ve ever heard. How the fuck do we stay in business? Do we even have any clients?”
“Okay, smart ass. You do it if you’re so good,” she challenged with fire in her eyes.
Ding, ding, ding. Watch and learn, baby.
“Well, Miss Dubois…it is Miss, right?” Standing in front of her, I lightly grazed a hand over her elbow, giving it a familiar squeeze. “Let me be frank with you; I could stand here and list a million reasons why DuBlanc has been in business for over fifty years.” Lifting my free hand, I ticked off my points on my raised fingers. “Among them are stability, longevity, and accountability. But instead, how about I tell you why you should go with us? All our fishermen have worked these waterways since they were knee high to a mudbug. They’re smart, dependable, know the best routes and best spots better than they know the alphabet, and most importantly, you’re not just a client with us. You’re family.”
Addie’s eyes widened, and her arms dropped loosely by her side. “Holy shit.”
“It’s a gift,” I said with a wink.
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew how to sell that like?”
“You never asked.”
While looking down at her hands, Addie’s voice lowered to a whisper. “Zep, I—”
“Big, dumb jock LeBlanc, right? No college degree, just stick him on a boat and tolerate him.”
“That’s not what I—”
“I’ve been around this business my whole adult life, Addie. I know how it runs, and I know how to sell it. I may not have a piece of paper from a fancy college or a trust fund, but I have more to offer than casting a net.” I cringed internally at the one-eighty my challenge had taken, but I was too fired up to back down. I only meant to get under her skin, but being underestimated my whole life had taken center stage.
