by Lynn Shurr
“Creamy vanilla,” Rachelle shouted.
“None for me,” Xochi said.
“That’s okay, you can share mine.” He claimed the freshly made loaf of chocolate pecan as well as Rachelle’s choice before he backed away from the counter. “One of my favorite stops when my parents brought me here long before it became a discount mall. I wasn’t sure they still had a Fudgery.”
“And a branch of Café du Monde along with a food court,” Rachelle informed him. “We’d better get a real lunch before we snack on fudge.”
They settled on MOOYAH Burgers with cups of thick cut fries, shakes for Junior and Rachelle, unsweetened iced tea for Xochi. She asked for her turkey burger in a lettuce wrap while Junior piled the extras on his double along with the free mushrooms and grilled onions. Rachelle went for the classic cheeseburger. As the other two sucked their mint chip shakes, Xochi watched Junior eating with his childhood glee, the juices from the messy burger cascading down his chin. Xo reached out with a napkin, but Rachelle sopped up the mess before it reached the thin line of his beard. Maybe she never had changed his diaper, but she’d sure wiped his face more than once when it was still baby smooth. Her fingertips tingled as she recalled running them along that scrim of beard the other night. Damn Rachelle for usurping her job!
“Let’s hit some of the dress stores before this lunch goes to our hips,” she said.
“Puleeze! You had an Iceburger and tea. Good thing I don’t have to worry. I could use a little more padding, but I just burn the fat off with my boundless energy. That’s how I got into salsa dancing. Needed an outlet,” Rachelle informed them. She finished the very last fry in the cup she’d shared with Xo and wiped her fingers with a napkin. “Good to go shop for dresses.”
Xochi suspected adult ADHD in her friend’s case, but refrained from saying so. Rachelle had no education, no boyfriend, and two crappy jobs. She could afford to be kind to the woman who wanted Junior. Except Rachelle wasn’t his type. But, who was? He’d admitted to having experience somewhere along the way. With whom? Anyone she knew? Probably not considering the age difference. And why did she care? “Yes, dress shopping. Maybe you want to leave, Junior.”
They moved out of the food court and back to the region of high-end shops. Junior paused by the mall’s version of Café du Monde. “I’ll wait here, get some coffee and beignets, watch the ships go by on the river. Come get me when you’re finished.”
Before they were out of sight, he’d gotten in line for his dessert and beverage and remained in the area for all two hours of their excursion into woman world. Most men would have bailed, so add steady and reliable to Junior’s résumé. Sharing his fudge with two small children while a tolerant star-struck mother watched, he sat on the deck just beyond the glass door and pointed out a cruise ship moving ponderously past. “Bet it’s on its way to Mexico with two-thousand people on board,” he told the kids who stared, awed and chocolate smeared. “I’ve been there. Cool place.”
Add good with children. Xochi shook her head. She needed coffee to clear her head, but Rachelle had other ideas.
Her dancing buddy dashed over to Junior. “We should hit that wine bar now. I need to refuel.”
Junior carefully wrapped his fudge, high-fived his new friends, and accepted the shopping bags Rachelle thrust at him. He went along willingly to sample Louisiana wines. Xo figured with his size and bulk, he could probably down an entire bottle without feeling the effects. She recognized that warm, relaxed feeling spreading through her body after three small samples and cut herself off. Rachelle held out her glass for numbers four, five, and six. Junior purchased a stone fruit wine and bottles of traditional red and a white to go as if to make up for her mooching. “Hey, they got wine smoothies, too,” Rachelle hinted.
“It’s getting on five o’clock, and I want to treat y’all to dinner at Coop’s. Save room for the best jambalaya in the city. We’ll eat early since you have a cemetery tour at eight.” Deftly, he steered her into the concourse again and toward the exit.
When had Junior become so diplomatic, so grown up? Xochi recalled his gentle handling of Stacy and her illness as they stepped into the heat that pressed down on them like a panini grill. “Do we gotta walk?” Rachelle complained. “Let’s take the trolley, huh.”
“Oh, I think a little walking right now might be a good idea. We don’t want to arrive too early. We’ll stay in the shade.” Junior set out bedecked with Loft outlet, Forever 21, and high-end purse bags, not to mention a sack of fudge and a clinking carrier of wine bottles. No one mocked him, unwise to laugh at a guy that big who could carry so much in his two hands.
Xochi hung onto her own modest purchases, a scarf streaked in purple, hot pink, and silver that would match the handbag so well, and an inexpensive lace halter dress in coral with a plunging neckline from Charlotte Russe that would make Junior’s eyes bug out when he saw her in it. Not her thought, but Rachelle’s when she’d modeled it in front of her. Maybe that idea had been way back in some secret chamber of her mind and better stay there. Xo planned to hang it with her dancing dresses, would never wear it anywhere else despite Rachelle’s opinion that if she had boobs that big she’d flaunt them, too.
Rachelle draped an arm around Junior’s shoulders as if to say I’m with this guy. Didn’t he have enough to carry? Perhaps, she needed the stability he offered as they dodged crowds of tourists, kids tap dancing for coins, and stretches of uneven pavement. They neared Jackson Square lightly perfumed with the odor of mule dung from bags hanging beneath the haunches of the carriage animals this late in the day. “Carriage ride?” Rachelle swerved toward the first in the line.
“No, dinner.” Junior steered her away and past the park. Not much farther on, they entered Coop’s Place with its unpretentious exterior façade and blinking video poker machines illuminating the dim interior. The air smelled slightly of smoke, not from cigarettes but rather from the meat used in their specialties’: duck and tasso ham. Being early, their group had little trouble getting a table, but what amazed Xochi was the greeting extended to Junior by the hostess, bartenders, wait staff, and manager, all of whom appeared to know him. He introduced his companions and asked the ladies if he could order for them. Both nodded.
“Rabbit and sausage jambalaya for my friends. Make that the Supreme. I know it’s not breakfast, but could you whip up a Hangtown Fry omelet for me?”
“For you, Junior, anything. This young man right here bussed tables and worked in the kitchen free in exchange for learning how to cook our recipes. Never wanted to take his share of the tips. Everybody in the place loved him.” The manager gave Junior a friendly slap on the back. “You got their order?” he asked a waitress hovering at his elbow.
“Sure. Great to see you again, Junior.” Petite and pretty with a black China doll haircut, her face made edgy with piercings through her eyebrows and nose, the oriental girl gave off a vibe that told Xo there might have been more than tips shared between them. Or maybe she imagined that. “Drinks, ladies?” their waitress asked. “I know Junior wants a Turbo Dog.”
“Unsweetened iced tea,” Xochi said, primly.
“You have margaritas?” Rachelle asked.
“The bartender can make one.”
Junior squeezed Rachelle’s hand. “She’ll have iced tea.” When Rachelle pouted with her thin, red-coated lips, not attractive with magenta hair, he said, “You have to work tonight. Kiki, you finished with art school yet?”
The waitress shook her head. “Another year and I hope I won’t be serving food anymore for a living. But, with art you never know.”
“You have talent. You’ll make it. Say, if you still have that oriental screen you painted, I can afford it now.”
Her almond-shaped eyes lit. “There’s no one I’d like to have it more. Where are you staying—in that spectacular retro condo? I’ll deliver it personally tomorrow afternoon.”
“Um, no, with my friend, Xochi here.”
Xo narrowed her eyes at him. S
o, he had stayed at Daddy Joe’s place and worked in the city when she assumed he’d been carousing with his football buddies in Cancun or Cozumel like Mack did. He needed someone to show him around New Orleans, did he?
“If that would be awkward…” Kiki said.
Xochi denied it. “Not at all. Junior is a childhood friend I’m putting up until he gets his own place. Besides, I’m going out Sunday afternoon. You’ll have time to visit.”
“You are?” Junior took a turn at being surprised.
“Connor has a few hours off. We’re taking a picnic to City Park to see the sculpture garden.”
Their waitress endorsed the date. “That’s a great idea! Be sure to go inside NOMA and see the art if you have the time. I hope you like the screen since I guess you’ll have it for a while.”
“Oh, I think Junior will be getting his own place real soon.” Xochi gave him a hard stare.
“Well, better put your order in before we get too busy. Nice meeting you.” Kiki knew when to make a quick exit.
An awkward silence fell over the table like a checkered cloth. The clink of billiard balls and a wailing song on the jukebox filled the void. Rachelle did her best to combat it. “Man, I already love this place. No kids allowed because of the poker machines.”
Junior tried to keep up his end. “You don’t like children?”
Rachelle possessed a rather hawk-like nose that didn’t lend itself to wrinkling but the rest of her expression said no. “I’m the oldest of eight. Guess who had to take care of that brood when Ma went to work. Me, me, me. I’ve wiped enough snotty noses and dirty faces to last a lifetime.”
“I noticed you were quick with a napkin back at the food court. Thanks.”
“Yeah, I got the skills, but I don’t want any of my own. Moved out as soon as I could. How about you?”
“Only child of older parents.”
“I used to dream about being an only child.” The beer and iced teas arrived. Rachelle gulped half her glass after adding several packets of sugar. “Thirsty from that trek over here.”
That and all the wine she’d swilled, but Xochi kept her self-imposed silence until Kiki set down an overflowing bread basket. “Extra for you, Junior.” Then, she mumbled ungraciously, “Just what I need, extra bread,” as the other two helped themselves and slathered on the butter.
“So, you want a family?” Rachelle asked just prior to stuffing her face with French bread.
“Well, I wasn’t lonely with all the Billodeauxs around, but I think I’d like to have more than two but way less than twelve.”
Xochi forgot she wasn’t speaking to him. “You won’t have any children! Your wife will do all the work of squeezing out those huge, big-headed babies you want. Twelve pounds, you were a twelve-pound baby. Your mother had to have a section done to get you out.”
Rachelle gulped and not on her iced tea. Under her garish makeup, she turned a little pale, covered all that with a laugh, a comment, and a change of subject. “Xo is way more fun at Paco’s. Anyhow, you ever been on a cemetery tour, Junior?”
“No, never had time for it when I was in the city.”
“Because I could get you in free tonight. I’m just learning the tour right now. Mostly I bring up the rear and make sure we don’t lose anybody. You could help me wrangle the tourists. I’ll bet there won’t be any purse snatching with you around.”
“I don’t have any other plans, do I, Xo?”
“I wouldn’t know. Your plans are your own same as mine.”
“Okay, I’ll go.”
The food arrived with Kiki deftly setting the healthy portions in front of them. Junior’s omelet burst with fried oysters, bacon, and cheddar cheese next to a pile of fries. Large bowls held the rice mixture displaying cubes of ham, chunks of rabbit, curls of crawfish, and a rim decorated with sizeable shrimp. A nice topping of chopped green onions gave color to the dish. Xochi was forced to agree with the best jambalaya in the city designation.
“I know how to make it, but it’s getting the right ingredients like that tasso,” Junior said, not bragging, just saying.
“You can make it for me anytime. Let me have one of your oysters.” Rachelle opened her mouth, and he popped one in with his fingertips. Evidently, he had no problem sharing food or a fear of germs. She closed her lips and left behind a suggestive red ring around one digit. Who knew where that mouth of Rachelle’s had been in the last twenty-four hours? What Xo didn’t like was her friend’s usually lovely pink aura indicating her eternal optimism that she’d finally pick up a good guy at Paco’s or in a bar and live happily ever after rather than using her round heels to rebound again and again. That aura had picked up little tinges of Junior’s deep violet. Xochi couldn’t deny Junior’s good guy status, but really, could he be falling for Rachelle?
When Kiki returned to ask if everything was okay, she noticed the girl’s sunny yellow aura had also acquired a corona of indigo. Did everyone love Junior or did that strength of his simply rub off on them? “Box, please.” Xo said. “I can’t eat all this.” Meanwhile Rachelle mopped her bowl with another slice of bread.
Junior finished the last of his fries and asked for the check. Maybe the waitress got that extra glow from the thirty percent tip he left. “We’d better get going if we want to walk Xochi home and arrive at the voodoo shop in time for the seven o’clock tour.”
“No need to go out of your way. I can get home by myself.” Xochi picked up her box of jambalaya and gathered her shopping bags.
Junior loaded Rachelle’s baggage and the wine. “Not going to happen. We’ll walk with you in case any of the dark guys are lurking.”
“Dark guys are all over this city,” Rachelle said, puzzled.
“No arguments. Let’s roll.”
They delivered Xochi to her door. Junior turned over his fudge, the wine, and the hot pink handbag before marching off with Rachelle still loaded with her purchases. Settling in for a quiet evening, Xo put away her leftovers and purchases. She got comfortable and found a movie on TV to pass the time. Her apartment seemed empty without Junior filling the space. He’d soon be back, and they’d have a talk about living arrangements. The tour started at seven, well before dark this time of year. When the movie ended, she checked her watch. Nine p.m., he’d be home fairly soon. At ten-thirty, she ate more fudge than she should have and watched some of the late shows. By midnight, she still sat up waiting for her boy to come home like some over anxious mother. At twelve-thirty, she heard his heavy tread on the stairs.
“Exactly how long was this cemetery tour?” she offered in greeting as he entered the living room.
“Two hours, Mom. Gee, did I break my curfew?” He enjoyed making fun of her concern a little too much judging by the smirk on his face. “Rachelle had to help wait on customers at the voodoo shop where the tour started and ended. Afterward, we stopped in at Pat O’Brien’s for a few drinks, then I saw her home. She lives in a kind of dicey area. I couldn’t let her go alone.”
“She invited you in, right?”
“Yep. I feel sorry for the girl. She tries too hard to get attention, but I didn’t pity her enough to go inside.”
Xo realized she had no idea where Rachelle lived, or in what conditions. They met at Paco’s or the mall or wherever. In fact, her dancing friend had only been to the Canal Street apartment a couple of times, once to sleep off a really bad drunk that made Xochi afraid to put her in a cab and another when a short-lived boyfriend blacked her eye. All this made Xo feel pretty small for being jealous. Yes, call it what it is, jealous of the time Rachelle spent alone with Junior.
“You should have come along, real interesting in St. Louis Number One. All sorts of people buried there besides Marie Laveau: Etienne de Bore who discovered how to granulate sugar, Homer Plessy of the Civil Rights case, Delphine LeLaurie, the sadistic slave owner, and Nicolas Cage who is going to be. He bought a pyramid-shaped tomb in there.” Junior moved to the kitchen and returned with a large glass of milk and a handful of th
e peanut butter cookies he’d baked earlier in the week wrapped in a napkin. “Want one?”
“No, I overdid on the fudge.”
“Glad you enjoyed it so much. You got a little right here on your chin.” He erased it with his thumb and licked its pad. Was he trying to tempt her?
“Did you make a wish at Marie Laveau’s tomb?” She knew what he wanted.
“Heck, no! Rachelle knocked a marker out of the hand of one our group who tried to put an X on it, do the knock, turn around three times, and shout out what you want to Marie. There’s big fine for that now, and the tour company will lose its forty-five hundred dollar license to show the place if they let any vandalism happen. You can still see some of the crosses others made even though the Diocese pressure-washed it a few years back after someone dumped pink paint all over the tomb. There are some dumb shits in this town.”
“Agreed. We need to get some sleep if we’re getting up for early Mass.”
“Yeah, forgot about that.” He gulped the last of the milk and wiped the cookie crumbs from that bit of a mustache before she could do it for him. A tinge of regret passed through Xochi. “About your date with Connor, could I…”
She stood up in her robe and would have stomped her slippers if they’d made any noise. “No! You absolutely cannot go along. And don’t show up accidently at the art museum like Tom did when he followed Alix around.”
Junior’s face mimed hurt. “I was going to say I’d make a heart healthy lunch for you and the doc to take to the park. Besides, Kiki is coming over, remember?”
“Oh, right. No need. We agreed to pick a Central Grocery muffaletta and get some drinks.” The heat rose up in her face.
“You think he’s going to approve of all that ham and salami and cheese?”
