by Sienna Mynx
“How about you wash and I dry?” I ask her.
“Dishwasher.” She then points to the machine under the counter to her left. “I rinse and you load?” she suggests.
I check the time on my watch. It's almost noon now. I don't have to be on Dauphines until after six to open the Bone Room. Still I got some errands to run. I wasn't planning on spending my Friday with a beautiful woman who can talk about everything from music to football with me for hours. My cell phone rings to my back pocket. I remove it and step away and out of the kitchen to take the call.
“Yeah?”
“Where are you? I'm outside your place now,” Marcel says.
“What?”
“I set up a lunch meeting between you and Domino. To discuss the gig. Remember?”
“Oh? Shit. Sorry brother. I forgot.”
“Forgot? Nah, Brick. Don't do this shit, ya heard me? You promised to not flake on me. You and Domino need to be on the same note when we speak to this label. I can't pitch the idea without you both.”
“I know. I know. It's not that. I’m…” I bite down on my lip. Coco asked me for discretion. She was adamant about no one knowing I was here. It was a strange request but being it was her grandmothers place I understand. However, this was Marcel. What harm could telling Marcel do?
“I got caught up. I'm with Coco. At her place.”
“Wait… what? Coco doesn’t have a place. No you aren’t.”
“I am. I'm in English Turn. Can we reschedule?”
“Are you fuckin kidding?”
“Bro, she…” I stammer, and he cuts me off.
“Is playing you.”
“Marcel, man back off.”
“I’m serious. She’s in your head man. You were supposed to take her home, get some pussy and move on!”
“I—”
“She has a fiancé, Brick. Ask her, and get your ass down to the Quarter before we blow this!” Marcel shouts at me and then hangs up.
I’m stunned. I stand there on empty looking at the phone. As I approach the kitchen I hear her lovely voice. And I realize she isn't alone. She's speaking to someone. I freeze. The conversation is brief and she ends the call before I step in. But the look she gives me is all I need. She’s been playing me from the start.
“Hey? I was about to go looking for you.”
Brick isn’t smiling. Did he just get bad news?
“Who was that on the phone? Your fiancé?” he asks. The question is like cold water thrown in my face. I’m startled and surprised plus a little pissed. There’s no point in denying it. I just can’t imagine how he’d gather I had a fiancé from a quick conversation with my mom.
“So it’s true? You’re getting married?”
“Who told you that?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? Wow. Wow. So what is this, it’s how you and your man play? You pick up men in bars and what does he do? Watch? He in here somewhere? Waiting to jump out?” Brick looks around. I frown, not sure if he’s telling a joke or being serious. And then the accusation in his eyes nails me and I know he’s deadly serious.
“I could explain, but I don’t like your tone of voice. I rather you just leave.”
Brick pauses. There’s a gleam of anger in his eyes that feels like a threat. It’s not what he says or does. It’s just a mean look that tells me he doesn’t get practice at controlling his anger often. But I hold my ground. I just met him, we had fun. I don’t owe him anything. This wasn’t a date and we both damn well know it.
“C'est sa Couillon!” he says and turns on his heel and walks out. He either called me a coward or fool. It’s enough to provoke me. I storm after him. But Brick has long strides and moves on a mission. He’s at the door before I can catch up to him. When I step out on to my porch he’s hopping into his ride.
“Brick? Wait!”
He fires up his corvette and speeds toward my gates. I go back inside to hit the button to open the gates. I’m certain if I don’t he’ll drive straight through them—he’s that riled up with anger. Why the hell is he angry? We just met. And why the hell do I care? I slam the door and I want to stump my feet and scream. Instead my foot hits something else. It’s his saxophone case. He left it.
Who’s the fool now?
It wasn’t until I ran two stop signs and a traffic light that I realize that I’m acting like an idiot. I’m losing it. I turn up the music and set it to blast to match my anger. I’m proud of myself. I’m my fathers’ son and I have a raging Cajun temper. Hell, a spilled drink could have me cursing in French for an hour straight. But I’m confused too. What the fuck just happened? I meet a woman. And she’s more than fine, she’s different. Not the average differences I find due to my tastes and the women I cross in N’awlins. No she’s got this air of pampered sublimity to her. Something I can see, feel and even fucking taste when my head is between her thighs. And suddenly I catch a feeling of wanting her.
It’s bullshit.
I shift into fourth gear and speed through the next light. A car slams on breaks and I shoot the guy the middle finger.
“Embrasse moi tchew!”
I yell for him to kiss my ass and keep going. It’s then the sirens start blaring.
“Fuck! Fuck!” I hit the steering wheel. I decrease speed and pull over to the side of the road. The officer is on a motorcycle. There’s no talking my way out of this. And again I’m pissed. At the moment I still don’t know what has my emotions tangled into knots in my chest.
“Keep your hands on the steering wheel—”
I put them both there and count down from ten. I need to cool off. I’m liable to unzip my pants and tell this motherfucker to have his wife suck my dick rather than apologize or show contrition for breaking the law.
“Brick?”
I look up. The officer removes his Rayban’s. It’s Cleve. He takes off his RayBan sunglasses. Cleve is from Acadiana region too. He and I played ball together when I was in the tenth grade.
“Holy fuck man, when did you get this?” Cleve is looking over my car.
“Pops. He gave it to me months ago.”
“Nice. Now, why you out here trying to kill folks.” Cleve spits tobacco.
“Bad morning.”
“Yeah, looks like it,” the cop agrees “Aye, I was thinking of doing an upgrade of my own. Something in the budget but a little sleek and fancy. You know? Think you can help me out?”
I glance up to Cleve. I know what he is asking. Pops deals in cars. But not like an average buyer or seller. Some of the most priceless foreign cars in our dealerships are stolen ones that he flips and scrubs clean VINs for resale. He’s got a criminal network that sends vehicles out of the gulf in containers to foreign buyers. One phone call to my brothers and I can put him in a car of his choice, with the papers clean.
“What you looking to get?”
“Wife’s pregnant, man. She wants one of those Mercedes trucks. You know I can’t afford that on a cops salary.”
“Yeah, I can help you out.”
Cleve spits a stream of brown tobacco juice away from my car. Others drive past slow thinking that there is something to see. Well they are missing the real transaction. Me greasing my way out of a ticket the Bondurants way.
Cleve touches my car. “Nice… well yeah, couldn’t get away with bringing this baby home. I’ll bring her to the Mercedes dealership this weekend if that’s cool.”
“I’ll handle it.” I extend my hand. Cleve shakes it.
“Now slow your ass down. Seriously. You could have killed someone.”
“Will do,” I say and before Cleve is back to his motorcycle I’m doing zero to sixty flat and swerving in and out of cars as I please. My temper has cooled some. I can reflect and not explode. So what I met a beauty. So what the sex was the best I’ve had sober or drunk in months. It happens. I’ll be more careful where I stick my dick next time. I don’t need the kind of drama an engaged rich girl
could bring. To hell with it.
It would take me around twenty minutes to arrive home. I got home in half that time. And Marcel was right there, pacing on the sidewalk. My boy waited. He looks up at me and I can see he’s pissed.
“Sorry brother, I got held up. Get in and let’s do this.” I tell him and gun the engine on my corvette.
“Too late. Domino got there ahead of us. He’s talking plenty of shit about you Brick. And then told the agent he’s pulled out.”
“Aww hell.”
“This is some bullshit Brick! Bullshit!” Marcel shouts. “I worked on this for months. And you two muthafucka’s have blown it. One meeting. One fucking meeting Brick! The most important meeting of our career and you forget about it?”
I turn off the car and get out. I have no come back. This was as important to Marcel as it was to me. Maybe even more so. Marcel has had it tough all his life. He’s even done some time in Angola. He’s trying hard to get his business management gig off the ground. We’re friends. Best friends. And I fucked him over for a girl I barely know.
I scratch my head and wince over the dilemma. I don’t apologize. I never apologize. Sure, I’ll say sorry bro this, or sorry bro that. But that’s regular talk. To apologize is an admission of weakness. It’s a fucked up way of thinking instilled in me by my Pops and Smoke. It’s just not done.
“What can I do man, to fix this? I can make calls.”
“Not for this. It’s not something your father can buy you into. These are industry people. And they don’t give a shit about anybody but their artist. This was our chance to prove ourselves. And we blew it.”
“Well fuck man, I can’t fix it if you are going to stand here and bitch about it.”
“What did you say to me?” Marcel stepped forward. I come off the car and stand my ground.
“I said stop bitching about it!”
Marcel takes a swing and it lands on my jaw, but I’m already countering his attack I gut punch him and slam him on the ground. All the anger that I can’t explain has surfaced. And we are on the sidewalk fist to cuffs, wrestling, beating on each other. Me and him in our best threads. Rolling around in muck and shit now in the street. Ms. Mabelle comes out of her house to watch us for a moment and then goes back inside. When Marcel puts me in a chokehold I can’t get loose. The fight is over. He lets me go and I kick him as we separate. He kicks me back in the side when he stands.
We’re both panting and wincing. Marcel extends a hand. I glare at him. He smiles. I take his hand and let him pull me up to my feet. We’re laughing and we can’t stop. I shove him. I have too. He was choking me and it hurt. I need some of my pride back.
“You going to replace this fucking shirt,” Marcel said.
“Yeah, well go inside. Take one of mine. I got plenty,” I say and walk around my car holding my injured side. I go to my trunk to get my sax. I open it. The boot is empty. It’s not there. “Shit!”
“What?” Marcel asks.
“Muthafucka!” I slammed the trunk down.
“What?” Marcel asks again.
“My sax. It’s back in English Turn.”
“Coco’s house?”
“Yeah, I got to go back and get it.”
“Whoa… slow down.” Marcel steps in front of me.
“Get out of my way Marcel. You know I don’t roll anywhere for long without it.”
“I get it. I know how you are. But you need to chill. I’ll have Georgie pick it up.”
“Fuck that! I want it now.”
“She stays near her. I’ll call her and have her bring it over.”
Now I’m confused. Since I’ve met Coco Marcel and Georgie have been throwing up warning signs. It’s not her fiancé. I get I’m missing something.
“Let’s go inside and I’ll explain it. Okay? Plus we need to make some calls.”
I’m itching to tell him to fuck off. I can’t believe I left. It’s not a mistake I make. Ever.
“C’mon bro. Let’s talk. Let’s regroup.”
Grinding down on my molars I go for the door. There better be some helluva explanation.
Chapter Five
“Hey, thanks for coming over,” I let Georgie in. She’s looking at her phone and walks inside while popping gum. Georgie has micro-braids, and today she’s letting them hang instead of wearing them at the top of her head. They sway at her waist.
“Girl, Marcel is aggravating the hell out of me. Where is the damn thing so I can take it down there?”
“I’m going to take it.” I inform her.
Georgie pauses in the foyer. I keep moving. I walk to our family room and she’s hurling questions at my back.
“What game you playin’, Coco? Give the man back his saxophone and don’t start drama. You don’t know Brick. He’s nuts about that damn thang. Why you let him bring it ova’ here in the first place? Coco? Coco? Ya hear me?”
I sit down on the leather sectional sofa. Georgie tosses her purse and plops down. She looks pissed, but playfully so. The only thing she cares about is Marcel. And as long as he’s happy, Georgie’s happy.
“I like him,” I say.
“Huh?” Georgie asks.
“I said I like him.”
“I heard what you said. I’m just confused. So what you like him? What does that have to do with his saxophone?”
I look over at it and think of the time he played it in the club. I still get shivers. I love the way he used that instrument. “I dunno. He ran up out of here like the devil was after him or something. And I don’t even have his phone number. But I got that saxophone. I got this feeling that I can get a second chance with it.”
“Wait, Coco, I’m confused. Last night you said you wanted to have fun. And you did. Now it’s done, and it’s ova’.”
“Let me tell you about last night. He was so good. Reminded me of… well forget what he reminded me of. He just got this thing about him. The way he touches me. Kisses me. Georgie. We had sex in grand-mère’s kitchen. Up on the sink. I ain’t going to be able to clean collards in that kitchen again without laughing my ass off.”
Georgie nose wrinkles with a frown. She glances around the family room. “Where’s Nathan?”
“Lafayette. He’ll be home tonight.” I shrug.
“You had Brick up in here? If Nathan had seen him. If the neighbors tell him. Coco, they’ll kill you.”
“Don’t worry. No one saw. And I’m a grown ass woman. I can do whatever the hell I like.”
“This is why I didn’t want you to hook up with him. You playing games, but you doing it with the wrong person. Brick is… Marcel told me some things about him last night. He’s, well… he, uhm, pick another guy to rebel with. Not him.”
“Why? He’s a man. You think it’s wrong cause he white?”
Georgie rolled her eyes. “I think it’s dangerous because his family is dangerous. Don’t you pay any attention to anything in this city? His father has been indicted four times on Rico charges and walked out on all of them. Marcel say they own damn near every politician, including the governor. They swamp people. Live deep in the bayou. The Bondurant’s are even on the police force.”
Now I’m curious. Brick does seem a bit edgy, but not gangster edgy. Jazz man edgy. Other than the fancy car, and the tantrum he threw before he left, I saw no other evidence of his temper.
“It’s exactly my point. He isn’t the kind of man Xavier would know, or my brothers would know. He won’t care about me having a fake fiancé that I’m trying to dump. He’ll be down for a good time. And we’re going on Spring Break. I have a good solid week of no classes to do whatever the hell I want.”
“Justify it all you want, it sounds messy. Why did he leave the thing? And why is Marcel all over me to bring it back? What was the argument about?”
“I told you he was angry before he left.”
“Why?” Georgie asked.
“He found out about Xavier. Thought I was being shady and walked out. I didn’t like the way he questioned me so I l
et him go.”
“So he got pissed about Xavier and you think he’ll be cool with helping you cheat on him?”
“It’s not cheating. Xavier and I…”
“Are engaged. I don’t care if you two can’t stand to be in the same room together. I don’t care if you never kiss or hold hands. I don’t care if you never let him put his hands in your panties Coco. It’s done. The invitations have been sent. The church is booked. The wedding is going to happen. Because you said yes.”
“Now I say no.” I mumble.
“That’s it. That’s what this is about? You going to run the streets with Brick and drag that man into your drama to back your family off? That’s your plan?”
“What else could I do Georgie? I told my mama and grand I don’t want to do it. I told Xavier. What else? Huh? Other than go into that church and embarrass my family I don’t have a whole lot of options.”
“Your logic is so off. Aren’t you suppose to be psychic or something?” Georgie teases. “What do you see in the future?”
“I see me married to Xavier and miserable as hell It’s all about appearances with Xavier and my family. All about him being some big shot Senator someday. I hated boarding school and I found a way out. I don’t want to get married, I know the way out. And I’m going to make my big escape right after graduation, with my jazz man.”
“Ever heard the saying play with fire and you’ll get burnt?” Georgie asks.
“Ever heard the saying no risk no shame?”
“You made that up!”
“I want the shame. So I’m going to take the risk. And I need your help to do it.”
