A Perfect Mess

by Zoe Dawson

  He bounced in time with the music, his fingers stretched over the keys of the battered piano, which was a poor, beat-up cousin to the baby grand he had at home.

  As he got to the last verse, Verity glared nervously down the bar while Boone passed us and a woman took his place behind the bar. He picked up a guitar and joined in. From the kitchen, Braxton emerged, and when he walked past River Pearl, he spun and went the rest of the way backwards until he hit the stage, blowing her a kiss. She flipped him off. Picking up a fiddle, he slipped right into the music like a ‘gator slipped into the swamp. I watched River Pearl’s face, since she was turned toward Booker. She narrowed her eyes at him and her mouth tightened.

  She turned away, almost as if she couldn’t bear to look at him.

  “Those damn gorgeous Outlaws,” she snapped.

  “Tell me about it,” I said.

  “This is for you, sugar,” Booker called out, looking at me. As soon as the first note sounded, I took a deep breath. The bluesy melody of Blue Bayou settled over the crowd. Some people moved together to dance slow and easy. Others returned to their tables to simply listen. I was spellbound. His voice, rich with a smoky passion, crooned the words as he sang to me. The experience was seductive, intimate, and wholly unnerving.

  “You’ve always had a thing for Booker.” River Pearl glanced at Verity, who rolled her eyes and nodded. “What does your aunt think of you hanging out with him?”

  “My aunt’s in a coma at Secrest hospital in Lafayette.”

  Verity’s hand flew to her mouth and River Pearl reached out and touched my shoulder. “Oh, I’m so sorry. What happened?”

  My stomach churned. “The sheriff isn’t sure. I got a call a couple of days ago in the middle of the night telling me she fell or was pushed down the stairs. She’s still in a coma, but the doctor says she’s at least holding her own, and maybe her brain just needs time to heal.” Then I shook it off before the rush of emotion could turn into tears, and returned to the original question. “You know I’ve never cared about Booker’s reputation. I care about who he is as a person, and I know Booker’s character.”

  “The Great Bleacher Bracelet Incident.”

  Verity laughed, and it made her face lighter, more carefree. Exactly what a nineteen-year-old should look like.

  “I’ve missed you, River Pearl.”

  She grinned and nudged Verity. “I missed you, too, sweetie. We should get better at staying in touch.”

  “I agree. So, did you go on that mission to Kenya, Verity?”

  Verity toyed with her cocktail napkin, and then met my eyes. “Yes, of course. I’m a good little girl. Really, I was in the middle of nowhere, dust, wild animals and no shower or blow dryer. I’ll never forget the past year,” Verity said. “It was interesting, but I don’t think I’m cut out to be a missionary.”

  I studied Verity and realized she was being evasive. Looked like I wasn’t the only one of our group who had a secret they didn’t want to share.

  “It’s not like I get a say in anything. He still treats me like I’m six years old.”

  “What does he want you to go to college for?”

  “I’ll be lucky if I can go to college. He would love to marry me off to that seminary protégé of his, Billy Joe Freeman. Like I want to live a barren and pious life. He mentioned accounting.”

  “Oh, hush my mouth. How boring. No offense, Aubree,” River Pearl said, after a sip of her virgin margarita.

  “None taken,” I said.

  Both of them had left before the incident on Wild Magnolia Road. I felt like I was betraying my friends by not telling them what happened. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t the only one involved.

  “I’m sure his plan is for me to marry that guy, stay here, and do the books for the church as a dutiful little wife. Can you imagine that? I would wither away and die.”

  “Then you have to make sure he understands what you really want to do. Now that this mission is out of the way, you can make some definite plans for college, maybe even show him what courses you’d take, and for how long, to become a fashion designer. Tell him you want to be a fashion designer.” River Pearl said.

  “I don’t know that I can.”

  “I will help you out. I’m going back to New York City in the fall. Maybe I can line up a photographer and some publicity for your line.”

  “Seriously?” The glum look on her face disappeared. “You’d do that for me?”

  River Pearl smiled and nodded, squeezing Verity’s shoulders. “Let’s have lunch and you can show me your sketches. You do have sketches, right?”

  “I do. I have actual garments.”

  “Very cool. I’d love to see them.”

  “I would, too,” I said. I really missed these girls.

  “My dad wants me to do something meaningful,” Verity said, giving Boone another sidelong glance full of…anger. I didn’t think she even knew him. Could I be wrong?

  “This is meaningful. You’re covering people up so they’re not running around naked.”

  “Who’s running around naked?” Booker said with a smile as he came back up to us.

  I raised my brows. “Out of context, Booker. Entertainment over?”

  “For now,” he said, giving me that branded Outlaw grin.

  Boone was back behind the bar and Braxton had disappeared into the kitchen.

  “You guys can really play,” River Pearl said.

  “And sing. Great voice, Booker,” Verity said.

  “Thank you, ladies. If you’d like to see us sing some more, I’m having a private party next Saturday, and you’re both invited. I might even get Brax to sing in Cajun French.”

  “Brax knows Cajun French?” River Pearl asked.

  “Yes, we have Cajun relatives on my mom’s side.”

  “Will Boone be there?” Verity blurted out, and then blushed so hard you could see the flush in the dim light.

  Booker smiled and nodded. “He will.” He looked at me. “Are you ready for dinner?”

  I made plans with Verity and River Pearl, hugged them both, Verity a little harder because she looked like she needed it. Slipping off the bar stool, I followed him back to our table. When we were almost there, I punched him in the arm.

  “Hey, you getting physical with me, Walker?”

  “You’re a jerk.”

  He chuckled. “I bet you thought that baby grand was just for ego show?”

  “I did.”

  “Ha! Judger.”

  “Guilty as charged.” I sat down. “You keep surprising me left and right.”

  “I know, right? I’m a little more interesting than stats.” He gestured with his fingers towards himself, looking smug.

  I pantomimed with my index finger and my thumb. “A tiny bit.”

  My phone chimed and I glanced down at it. Are you all alone in that big, empty house?

  I kept my face even and worked on not reacting at all, but my heart sped up and fear trailed icy fingers down my spine.

  Booker was talking to the waitress. I had no intention of spoiling his dinner.

  The waitress set a steaming bowl of gumbo down in front of me. The mouth-watering aroma was so strong it even overpowered my fear.

  He grinned. “Dig in. You’ll want seconds.”

  He was right about that. After we finished, I followed him out to the packed parking lot. The phone seemed like a live coal in my tote.

  I wasn’t looking forward to spending a sleepless night alone in my Aunt Lottie’s big, empty house.

  Chapter Six

  Booker

  Something was wrong with Aubree. I could tell. She’d enjoyed the meal and the music, so what was eating at her? I also felt a bit hurt that she hadn’t confided in me. I followed her up the walk to her door, and after she opened it, she turned to me.

  “I thought we were past secrets,” I blurted.

  Startled, she met my eyes, and when hers filled with fear, I couldn’t stand it. “Tell me what’s wrong. You’re making me crazy
.”

  “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to ruin your night.”

  “It’s our night, and you won’t ruin it unless you never want to see me again. That would ruin my…life.”

  “No. It’s definitely not that. I got another text.”

  “Fuck.” I crowded her into the house and closed and locked the door. “Let me see it.”

  She pulled her cell out of her bag. No wonder she was holding it so tight. I read the message and wanted to hit something so bad, preferably the bastard that was texting this shit to Aubree. If it was Langston…

  “He’s trying to intimidate you.”

  “I know. It’s working.”

  “Fuck.”

  “That was two fucks in, like, two seconds. You’re making me nervous.”

  “I’m sorry. It pisses me off. I can bunk here tonight on the couch.”

  She gulped. “Are you sure it’s not too inconvenient?”

  “No, Aubree. It’s not inconvenient. I’m not leaving you when you’re scared. I’ve slept in worse places than on a couch in a fancy house.”

  She nodded. “You should stow your car in the garage. I would hate it if it got vandalized on my property. The code for the door is 77985.”

  “Got it. Be right back.”

  “I’m going to change.”

  God, I hoped it wasn’t into those barely-there shorts. I wasn’t here to seduce Aubree. I was just hanging around so she wouldn’t be scared. Please, please, don’t let her be in those shorts. Or I’d be the one to be seduced.

  When she let me back in, I breathed a sigh of relief. She was in a pair of black stretchy pants with a white stripe down the leg and an oversized gray top with no bra straps in sight. My mouth went dry. Hey, did that mean she didn’t have one on at all. I tried to steer my mind away from that image.

  “I was thinking it would be great to have a fire, but my aunt always built it. Would you mind?”

  “It still gets chilly here in May, and I don’t mind.” We went into the fancy room with the fireplace and I started on the fire while she set up her laptop.

  “We can watch a movie if you’d like. My aunt has wireless. The TV is in another room, but I want to be near the fire.”

  “Sure.” A year ago I would have given a limb to be here next to Aubree. But a year ago I was a broke-ass no-account in this town. I was still a no-account, but no longer broke. I had something to offer her, but I was too much like my father to ever be the kind of man she would want or deserve.

  The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

  “I think my aunt has some apple pie in the fridge. Want some?”

  Apple? For a second I thought she read my mind. But no. Pie, that’s right. How perfect. “Sure.”

  She disappeared into the kitchen as I got the fire going. I moved to the couch, settling into the cushions, staring at the flames.

  I was ten years old the day my father left. Angry people had come to our tar paper shack to find him, bringing the steely-eyed sheriff with them. My mother had been interrogated, and she had cried. I remembered how her tears had cut through me, and I knew with the anguish of a small child when I learned that my father was never coming back. At the time I hadn’t known he was a con man. It was only later, when I had been “educated” by the town, that I knew what a no-account my father had been. He’d pulled off the biggest con of all, making his family believe he was going to stay and show the town that not all Outlaws were lying, thieving, good-for-nothing bastards.

  The day he disappeared was the first time I had heard that phrase, but it surely wasn’t the last.

  When those men had shown up, I’d run, small and scrawny, barefoot and dirty-faced, running like I’d been the thief they accused my father of being, shame burning in me. Running to escape the dark mark that always seemed to hang over us all. My feet slapping on the worn dirt path, I’d run into the bayou.

  In the swamp I could be anyone, do anything. The possibilities were limitless, no expectations to live up to, no one to judge. I could conquer the water lilies, become king of the bullfrogs, be a pianist, a pirate, a writer, even a hero.

  “Here you go. I put vanilla ice cream on it because I’ve never known a guy to turn down ice cream.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered as I accepted the plate and fork she handed me.

  She hesitated for only a second, then settled next to me on the couch. Not close like I wanted, but that was for the best.

  She tapped through the menu of movies. “Transformers okay?”

  I nodded. “Sure,” I said.

  “Okay, are you all right? That’s three sures in row.”

  I smiled. “I’m an agreeable guy.” I forked up a bite of the pie. It was delicious, gooey warm with the flavor of vanilla from the ice cream filling my mouth. “You didn’t want any pie?”

  “No, I’m stuffed from the gumbo. Your brother is going to make someone a fine wife someday.”

  I laughed out loud, almost choking on my pie. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”

  “Go ahead. I doubt he’ll use his ass-kicking boots on a lady.”

  “I doubt he will.”

  We watched the movie in a companionable silence. Two hours of breathing in Aubree’s sweet scent, feeling her so close to me, close enough to touch. After the movie came to a close, she shut down her laptop and turned to me.

  “Where did you guys learn to play like that?”

  “Gypsies in the swamp.”

  “Seriously?”

  “No.” She punched me in the arm. “Ouch, that’s going to leave a butterfly kiss.” I mocked.

  “Tell me. Be serious.”

  “Serious is no fun. I don’t like accessing old memories a whole hellava lot.”

  “I really want to know.”

  “Do you really? It involves going into The Forbidden Zone.”

  “I thought there were no secrets between us.”

  I nodded. “Okay, but only if you tell me why you didn’t believe I was a no-account white trash in high school.”

  She looked away. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes. I’m going into The Locked Vault for you.”

  “I have terrible childhood stories, too.”

  “Great, we could one-up each other all night, then. The high school story is the payment or it’s no dice, sugar.”

  “Then it’s no deal. I’ve got a great dream about chickens, though.”

  “Aw, you knew you’d get me with the chickens,” I conceded the game.

  The memory came after me like a demon with something I couldn’t refuse, painfully sharp and so bright. It had been such a good memory before my father had left. “His hand had been so big on the piano keys as his fingers rippled over the keys. I wanted my fingers to dance like that, too. I begged him every day to teach me, until he finally relented. He taught me on a really battered old piano he’d gotten from a junk shop. After…after he left, I couldn’t even look at the piano. I was so…so mad. I hated him, and it.”

  “Is that the piano in Outlaw’s?”

  “No. The piano my father taught me on? I set it on fire. I dragged it out of the house and lit it up and roasted fucking marshmallows.”

  Instead of running screaming from the room, she curled her hand over mine, then threaded her fingers in between, tightening them briefly.

  “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

  “No. Well…”

  I grabbed her around the neck and squeezed. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  Once I had my arm around her, the silk of her hair flowing against my arm, I knew I was in trouble. She turned her face towards me. “Sugar,” I said, my voice stalling. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Look at me like that.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “All you’re feeling is sorry for me because of a sad childhood story. It’ll pass. I’m very good at manipulating people. I tell lies for a living and people eat it up.”

  “That’s not it.” />
  “Sure it is.”

  “No, Booker. It isn’t. If it was, then you’d have no compunction about taking advantage of the situation.”

  Fuck logic.

  “I like logic. It’s clear, concise, and hard to argue with.”

  “I’m not the right guy for you. All we could have is a temporary situation. You’re a forever type of girl, Aubree, and I wouldn’t want you to be any other way. But you and me, not in the cards.”

  “You think I wouldn’t take you up on that offer?”

  “What? Why would you?”

  “Because I understand rules. I like them. They define things so there’s no guesswork. I have to go back to New Orleans. I’ve got graduate school in my future, maybe even a doctorate. I don’t know. You’ll stay here because the untamed freedom of the swamp is part of you. I’m okay with that. It would be hard. But I understand that about you.”

  I wanted her and she was giving me the green light. But for some reason, I was still not confident it was the right thing for me to do. Sure, my dick was all for it, but again, that head wasn’t always reliable.

  “We can take it slow, Booker. Explore and take our time.”

  My chest heaved and I closed my eyes against the need expanding inside me. Go slow with Aubree? That would fucking kill me.

  “Unless, of course, you don’t want to…”

  “Are you nuts?” I turned towards her, clutching her upper arms. I carefully watched every change in her expression as I shook my head. “Don’t ever, ever believe that I don’t want you. That is not the truth, will never be the truth.”

  She leaned towards me and did the darnedest thing. She kissed my cheek and my heart turned to pulp.

  “Okay, now that’s settled, I’m going to bed. I’ve got to work tomorrow. You can choose one of two rooms upstairs to sleep in. I’m in the last room down the hall, and my aunt’s room is the next to last. So either the first or second bedroom would be fine. I think I have a spare toothbrush in my bathroom.”