by Chiah Wilder
That evening, the old fortune teller rose from the chair, her knees cracking, when her doorbell rang. The wooden cane in her hand clacked on the wooden floor as she went to answer it. Peering out the curtained window on her door, her face tightened. What does he want? She paused, debating on whether she should let him in. A gust of wind rattled her windows at that moment and her cat skedaddled across the floor, disappearing under a worn couch.
“Germaine, I know you’re in there. I have to talk to you. It won’t take long.”
Pushing down the apprehension that clawed at her psyche, she turned the lock and opened the door. He walked in and smiled at her. His suit was perfectly pressed, and there wasn’t a hair out of place. “How are you?”
“I’m doing okay. Why are you here? You already gave me my money for the month.”
“You’re all business, aren’t you? I came over to talk to you about something. Come on, let’s have a seat.” The tall man threw her a toothy smile, and she didn’t trust him at all. Evil surrounded him.
He sat down when she did, then spread his hands on his thighs. “We have a slight problem here.”
Madame Vincennes tucked a loose strand of silver hair into the bun on top of her head. She stared hard at him, her sharp blue eyes clear and young. Her orbs held the echoes of her youth, unlike the rest of her. The lines in her face were deep and saggy, like the skin no longer had a connection to the skull underneath it, and age spots gave her skin a coffee-stained look. She gave him a twisted smile. “What’s the problem?”
“You’ve not been entirely silent about that night, have you?” His stare was piercing.
“I have. You made it very clear what would happen to my children and grandchildren if I told anyone.”
“And receiving two thousand dollars a month hasn’t been too shabby.” He crossed his leg and smoothed down his pants.”
“Mon Dieu, just tell me why you’re here.”
“Why did you send Rock the mojo bag?” His face was taut, his eyes narrowed into slits. A damp chill gripped her like a hand from the grave. “You didn’t think I’d find out about it, did you? And the note telling him that his father didn’t kill his mother was stupid.” He pressed his lips together and they looked like a slash across his face. “Actually, it was… suicide.”
This is the night I’m going to leave the Earth. Mon Dieu, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have chastised Delphine this morning. I would’ve told my family I love them. Her eyes misted as she stated to her would-be killer, “I’ve been having what happened on my conscience and in my soul for too long. I couldn’t let a son go to his grave thinking his père murdered his maman. I need to have peace.”
“I understand.” He rose from the chair and moved behind her. “And now that you cleared your conscience, I’ll clear mine. I can’t have any loose ends. You understand.” Then he placed his cold hands around her skinny neck and squeezed.
Her hands flew up to her neck as she tried to pry his away, but she knew she was no match to his strength so she let them fall to her lap. She noticed the soil beneath her fingernails from constantly digging in her garden for her mojo bags and healing spells, and she was ashamed that her children would see it on her corpse. She would’ve cleaned them had she known.
As he choked the life out of her, her gaze drifted to the wedding portrait, a surge of joy filling her as she realized she’d see her François again. Then the pictures of her children and their families danced in front of her, and a heavy sadness weighed on her. She’d hoped to be around for a few years longer.
Dark spots shrouded her gaze.
The clawing panic of not being able to breathe began to dissipate until it was all gone.
Chapter Fifteen
They parked in front of a nice two-story brick house in a neighborhood where everyone had well-maintained lawns and shrubbery. Before he turned off the ignition, Isa and two children ran down the concrete walkway toward him. He grinned and his eyes sparkled when he saw his niece and nephew.
“Rock, you’re really here,” Isa said as she threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheeks. “I kept telling Charlie I wouldn’t believe it until I saw you in the flesh. Let me look at you.” She pulled back and gave him a quick assessment, then threw her arms around him again.
“Mom, let us in,” a young boy said as he tried to squeeze between Isa and the Harley.
“Hang on.” Rock chuckled. “I gotta get off the bike.” He swung his leg over the leather seat, then wrapped his arms around Isa and her children in a big bear hug. From the corner of his eye he saw Clotille standing off to the side, watching the family reunion. She’d done a great job traveling the long distance from Colorado to Louisiana on the back of his bike, and, to his surprise, he’d fucking loved her warm arms clinging around his waist. The way her tits pressed against his back was a major bonus. He normally liked riding solo but every once in a while, if a chick was an especially good lay, he’d reward her by taking her for a spin on his Harley. In his experience, chicks were suckers for that kind of thing. But having Clotille hold on to him was something entirely different. It was like they fit together, their bodies molding as one.
Don’t start these pussy-assed observations. It would have felt good if any chick’s tits were against you for that long. Remember, she’s lying to you and keeping too many damned secrets. Not fuckin’ interested in figuring it all out.
“Is that Clotille?” Isa whispered in his ear.
“Yeah.” He turned to her. “Clotille, get over here and say hi to Isa. These two hoodlums are her kids.” He picked up a giggling child in each arm. “Maybe we need to go shopping to get you some presents.”
His niece’s and nephew’s eyes lit up. “Did you bring us anything from Colorado? Are the mountains really as big as they are in movies?”
“Michael! That’s not polite.” Isa’s brows knitted.
“It’s perfectly okay to figure out what kind of loot you’re going to get. Yeah, I got you something, and yeah, the mountains are big as hell.” He laughed and set the two kids down next to Clotille, who had sidled up beside him. “Isa, you remember Clotille.”
Isa nodded as her eyes scanned the other woman. “Yes. It’s been a long time. How’ve you been?”
Clotille smiled. “I’ve been okay. It has been a long time. Look at you—a house, family, husband. It must be nice.”
Watching her children rifle through the saddlebags on the Harley, she shoved her hair out of her face. “It can be, and sometimes not so much, but I don’t know what I’d do without these two petits.” She ruffled Michael’s and Aline’s hair. “Vite alors! Let your Uncle Rock come into the house.”
Rock pulled out a multi-colored stone with an acrylic dome over it and a tarantula sitting on it, immortalized forever. He handed it to Michael. “You can find these creeping around in southern Colorado. The rocks are found in the Rocky Mountains where I live. See all those gold streaks?”
Michael’s eyes opened wide as he took the gift in his small hands and tapped on the dome. “Cool. Uncle Rock gave me a spider. Look, Mom. Is that real gold?”
Rock nodded. “Real gold flecks.” He handed Aline a doll with long blonde hair in ringlets dressed in prairie clothes with several other outfits.
Aline’s hazel eyes sparkled. “Thank you, Uncle Rock.” She shyly took the doll he handed her and hugged it tightly.
“Let’s go in the house. Charlie’s still at work, but he wants to take us all to dinner when he gets home.”
Clotille’s eyes darted to Rock. “Yeah, well, we’re kinda bushed. It’s a damn long ride, you know?” he told Isa.
“I didn’t even think about that. I’ll call Charlie and tell him we’ll go out tomorrow. We can have pizza tonight.”
“Pizza! Yay!” The two kids jumped in the air and then dashed up the walk to the house.
Rock laughed and slipped his arm around Isa, pulling her to him. “I’ve missed you. Your kids are pretty fuckin’ cute. It’s good to be back.”
> She looped her arm around his waist and they went inside as Clotille followed behind.
When Isa and Rock were alone at last—Clotille had lain down for a nap and the children were playing—he sat at the kitchen table, guzzling a bottle of beer. “You mind if I smoke in here?”
“I don’t want you smoking pot around the kids.” She brought over a pitcher of lemonade and placed it on the table.
“The kids aren’t around.”
“I know, but the smell and all.” She poured the lemonade in her glass. “Charlie wouldn’t like it.”
He slipped the joint back in his pocket. “That’s cool. I can smoke later in the open.”
A worried frown crossed her forehead. “Be careful. It’s not legal here. I mean, if you really want to, we could go out on the patio.”
He stood up. “Let’s go.” He ambled out back and lit up his joint, the mellow effect taking hold as he smoked. “Clotille doesn’t want her family to know she’s back in town. She really doesn’t want anyone to know right now, so don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“Okay, but why?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s got some shit going on with Armand and her mom. She wants to lay low for a while before she tells anyone.”
Isa smoothed her hair off her face. “I never would’ve recognized her. But then I didn’t really know her. She never came to the house when we were growing up. You always went to her. I just remember seeing her when I started high school and she was a senior. We never even talked. Are you two back together?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I’m just helping her out, that’s all. She got herself in a bad situation in Colorado, so I’m just trying to make things smooth for her. She feels awkward being here ‘cause she feels like she’s imposing since you two didn’t really know each other.”
“Tell her I love having her here. And it would be great if you two got back together, especially since it seems like you both have been miserable without each other all these years.”
He sniggered. “I don’t remember being all that miserable.”
“I’m talking about a real relationship, not sex. You know there’s a difference. Henri is close to marrying. He and Suzette have been going out for over a year. Her family owns Petries, the department stores.”
“I’m sure Henri loves her money.”
She tapped his arm. “Oh, you. He’s very much in love with her.” She lowered her voice. “And her money.” She covered her mouth with her hand and laughed.
“I’m done smoking. Let’s go inside. It’s too damn humid. I forgot how awful it can be.”
After they settled on the kitchen chairs, she poured them both some lemonade. He took a deep breath and finally asked, “How’s Pa doing?”
Her fingers touched her parted lips as she looked at him with wide eyes. “Not so good. He’s in the prison infirmary. He was getting better, but he fell ill again. I’m real worried he’s not going to make it.” He jutted his chin out, his jaw clenched. “I was planning to see him. Do you want to go with me?”
“I’m not sure.”
She licked her lips. “Think about it and let me know.”
He shoved his chair back. “I’m going to check on Clotille.”
“Are you going to share a room with her?”
“Not sure ‘bout that either. A bientôt.” He walked out of the room and went downstairs to the guest room Isa had given to Clotille, knocking softly on the door.
“Come in.”
He went into the room, making sure to lock the door after he closed it. “How’re you feeling? It must’ve been a brutal ride for you.”
She smiled. “It was pretty intense. I didn’t think my butt would ever have feeling in it again. I guess twenty hours on the back of a bike will do that, huh?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Imagine if we’d ridden straight through.” He went over to the bed, bent down, and kissed her deeply. “That’s for being such a good sport.”
She grasped his arms and yanked him down before she sat up, the sheet falling off her. He held his breath when he saw her rounded tits and pink nipples, he reached out and pinched one of her nipples. “You got beautiful tits, chérie.” Dipping his head low, he pulled one of the buds into his mouth, licking and sucking it until it hardened. He fucking loved feeling a nipple harden under his touch. He moved his mouth to her other one. Her gasp made his desire heighten, and when she squeezed his inner thigh a low moan came from his throat.
She palmed his thighs, hips, and belly, then unbuttoned his jeans and slipped her warm hand inside. Breathing heavily he waited for her to touch his cock, but her hand stayed right above it, her fingers lightly pinching his skin. Fuck! I’m going to blow my wad if she keeps up this teasing shit. But the truth was he loved it. The women he screwed usually went for his cock right away and it was nice, but the anticipation he was feeling with her at that moment was more than hot.
With her other hand, she lifted his head and kissed him gently on the lips. “And that’s for being such a kind soul and helping me out.”
The desire in her eyes sent him over the edge and he crashed his mouth against hers, sucking her bottom lip with such intensity that he was sure it would be bruised. He wanted to fucking devour her whole. “What the fuck are you doing to me, chérie?” In response, she wrapped her fingers around his throbbing cock and squeezed. “Fuck,” he groaned, then bit the side of her neck hard. Her whimper was his undoing. He gripped the sheet and tore it away from her, then ripped off her panties before he stripped. He searched through his jeans pockets. “Fuck,” he said under his breath.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have a goddamned condom in my pocket. Fuck. It’s in my bag upstairs.”
“I’m on the pill and I’m clean. What about you? The club girls have been around.”
“I always use a condom.”
“Not always… remember our first time together?” She smiled and took his hand, pulling him back to her.
“Yeah. That was the only time I did it raw.” He ran his hands all over her body and feasted his eyes on her exquisite nakedness. With her arousal, the tips of her tits had become stiff peaks that taunted him. He pinched and pulled each one, each moan from her driving him wilder with desire than the last. As she arched her back he devoured her flesh with his teeth, lips, and tongue, her pebbling skin making him harder than he’d ever been. He wanted all of her: her body, heart, and soul. And at that moment, as he consumed her, he knew nothing less than that would do.
She was his fucking weakness.
And she knew it.
A couple hours later, they lay tangled in the sheets, completely sated with his arms around her, her hair covering his chest like a blanket. I’m so fucked with her. Now that I’ve tasted her I can’t walk away. Shit, how the hell can I be so wrapped up in her when I don’t even fuckin’ trust her? How does she pussy-whip me like that, and why the fuck do I let her do it?
It was because her hair smelled like wildflowers in the spring, her skin was like silk, her lips were soft, and her pussy tasted like salty honey. He fucking craved this woman, and he was madder than hell that he did. Each time her scent filled his nostrils, her hand touched him, and her whimpers fell on his ear, his damn dick would twitch. He didn’t want her. He’d written her off years back, decided she was a bitch of the worst kind, yet there he was getting hard again as she lay across his chest. Damn!
Maybe she’d bewitched him. He wouldn’t put it past her to have ordered some kind of mojo bag from Madame Vincennes to entice him. What other explanation could there be? He’d never felt this way with all the women he’d screwed over the years, and there had been too many to count. She was the only one who grabbed him. But then, it’d started when he was eleven.
Fuck. I wonder if Madame has something to exorcize a sexy vixen who smells like heaven out of my life.
* * *
The following morning, Rock woke up and reached over but Clotille’s spot was empty beside him. Sitting up, h
e yawned and looked to the bathroom, but the door was open and the room was dark. Figuring she’d already gone upstairs for her morning coffee—she couldn’t function without it—he rose to his feet and went to take his shower.
When he entered the kitchen he expected to see her sitting at the table with a coffee mug in her hand, so he was surprised to find his sister alone. She smiled at him. “Did you have a good sleep?” The twinkle in her eye made him grin.
“Yeah. Have you seen Clotille?”
“No. I thought she was still sleeping.”
“No.” He sent her a quick text and poured himself a cup of coffee. “I wonder where the fuck she could be. She’s not answering my texts.”
“She doesn’t have a car, so maybe she went out for a walk.”
“She went in a yellow car,” Michael came in, his hand clutching the tarantula paperweight.
“Yellow car? Did it have words on the doors?”
“Yep. Mom, do we have any of the cereal with the colored marshmallows?”
Where the fuck did she go, and why did she take a cab? She could’ve asked me to take her. She’s fuckin’ playing her secrets game.
“Do you want some cereal, Uncle Rock?”
He ruffled the boy’s hair and smiled. “Nah, I’m good. You’re a growing kid so you need all that sugar.” He shrugged when Isa glared at him and then stepped out onto the patio, plugging in Clotille’s phone number. No answer. Concern swept through his body as he stared at the blank screen. Where the fuck are you?
He hadn’t even realized he’d stayed out so long until he heard Isa and Clotille speaking in the kitchen. He jumped to his feet and rushed in, his nostrils flaring. “Where the fuck have you been?” he demanded.
She placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side. “Good morning to you. Since you’re monitoring my whereabouts, I met up with a friend. I didn’t want to wake you up to take me. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is I didn’t know if you’d been hurt or fuckin’ kidnapped.”
