by Sienna Mynx
“Xavier didn’t want it?” he teases.
“It wasn’t his to have. Even he knew that.”
Brick squirts the gel into his hand and slicks his dick. He then parts my buttocks and slicks my hole. My body stiffens and my heart races, I bend my knees a little to raise my ass to him while laying flat to my stomach. Brick’s cock nudged and probed before an inch slides in and my entire body constricted and forced him out. I gasped. Brick kissed my cheek and relaxed me with his hand beneath me stroking my sex. He thrust into me again and I received him. Mouth gaped wide with shock and startling satisfaction. In and out he went until I near thought I would pass out. My entire body suffered sensory overload. I cried out for mercy and the sex game ended. I still don’t know how long it lasted. But Brick pulled out of me and I gripped the sheets and shuddered with relief. He left the bed. He cleaned himself and me. And then again pulled me into his arms.
“What happened,” I panted.
“I only want to cause you pleasure. Not pain.”
“I can do it Brick. I want too. I do. I want something for you.”
“This is for me. For us. And anything we do we do for each other.” He lifts my chin so I can look up at him. I realize in that moment there are tears on my cheeks. He kisses them away. “I can lie here and hold you all night without making love and it would be still be the most special night of my life, Coco.”
I touch his face. “We lost so many years. Wasted years.”
“And we have so many years ahead of us,” he reminds me.
“I want to make love,” I kiss him under the neck and he groans. “In the morning. On the beach. Before the sun bakes the sand. We go out by the shore and I lay on my back….”
“Mmmm,” I moan and my eyes flutter shut.
“And you get on top.”
“Yes, keep going.
“You give me the ride of my life.”
I smile. “I can do that,” I yawn. “Wake me up. Okay? Promise.”
“Anything for you my sweet Coco. Anything.”
Chapter Thirty
A Week Later -
The plane touches down and I’m suddenly jostled awake. I lift my head from Brick’s shoulder and work the kink out of my neck. He takes out his ear buds and kisses me on cheek until I turn my face and can kiss my lips.
“Hi, sweetie,” I tell him and smile.
We are finally back in New Orleans. It feels like ages since we left. First our wedding, and then all the festivities for Georgie and Marcel consumed our lives. I had to spend the night away from Brick while I celebrated and hosted the bachelorette party and Brick threw a bachelor party for Marcel. Yes it was fun. But even that short time away from him made me crazy with anxiety. Was he drinking? Did he get into an argument with anyone? Was he upset? I felt so guilty over doubting him when I saw him again. Brick was mine again, so I needed to trust it.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Yeah, I am,” I tell him. We debark from the plane and go through the airport hand in hand. My large diamond sparkles brighter than the overhead lights from my finger. I keep looking at my ring and wedding band. I keep remembering the night of our wedding how we held each other and talked about our future instead of making love. How many kids Brick wanted. How many plays I wanted to direct. His desire to be a saxophonist again. I want to go to the courthouse right away to file for our marriage license. It’s killing me. I don’t say so, though. I mentioned it about a hundred times on the flight. I think Brick’s picking up on my anxiety. I can’t shake it. I know he loves me and he’s mine but I keep waiting for something or someone to step up and destroy us all over again.
Instead of disaster we find our luggage without incident. Brick loads the luggage on the cart and roll it out of the airport in search of a cab for me. Brick’s Ferrari can’t fit my luggage so he gives me the address to meet him at his place. Once I’m in the cab and alone, I call my agent.
“Hi, Bill.”
“There she is! My Tony award-winning star!” Bill says.
I laugh. “Thanks, but I won weeks ago.”
“Honey, my phone is ringing off the hook. I have six appointments booked for you this week. What time do you land?”
“That’s why I’m calling. I have news.”
“Lay it on me. Because I got news for you too.”
“I got married!”
“Say again?”
“Married. I got married. I am married.”
“Wait honey, when were you dating someone?” Bill asks.
“It’s a long beautiful story. I’m in Louisiana, it might be a few weeks before I can get back to New York.”
“Colette! Sweetheart, no, absolutely not. You are the talk of Broadway. I got Katie Couric on line one wanting to do an interview. And Oprah wants to do a special on you and your family.”
“Wait, my family? What?”
“You haven’t been watching television? Two days ago your father and grand-mother gave an interview with the Today show. They went on and on about your Creole history in Louisiana and who you are famously connected too. It was fantastic.”
My stomach drops. “No. No.”
“We should have given interviews… I told you….”
“How dare they!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t believe they would stoop this low! How do I stop them, Bill? I want a media black out on them. Immediately.”
“Colette, we can’t stop it. That horse is already out of the stall, baby-doll. Your brothers plan to do an interview too. I just got news from Vanity Fair that they are trying to trace your story back to some family in New Orleans, the, ah, Bondurants?”
“Who gave them the Bondurants name?”
“Your father. He said the musical was based on a man, named Byran Bondurant. Said it was a true story of your life.”
“This isn’t happening.”
“Sweetheart you’re scaring me. What’s going on and who did you marry?”
I hang up on him. My heart races so fast I can’t talk. With shaky hands I dial my father’s house in Shreveport.”
“Larue House,” a woman answers.
“Marlie?” I ask.
“Yes? Who’s speaking?”
“Coco.”
“Oh hi! Heathcliff, Coco is on the phone!” My father’s wife says excitedly. “Hold on, honey. He’s been trying to reach you for weeks, congratulations on your award. We are so proud of you. Your father threw an award party over here to watch. He’s so proud. Okay. Hold on.”
“Coco? Hey baby girl….” My father lets go of one of his deep throated laughs. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Really? You thinking of more ways to represent me in the press?” I seethe. My father goes silent. “How dare you give an interview without my permission and drag grand-mère into it!”
“Now wait… a minute—it was your grand-mère’s idea. We tried calling you but you have twenty people between us and you. So, you wait a minute baby girl and show respect.”
“No! I’m going to tell you this once and you better hear me, daddy. If you speak to the press, if grand-mère does, I will go public with every dirty secret I know about you and our family. I’ll give them an interview that’ll have you removed from office!”
My father scoffs. “You need to watch who you’re talking too. You don’t have any power over me, little girl. That time in New York has cost you your common sense.”
“Oh really? You think I don’t know who you are daddy? What about those deaths over thirty years ago at the distillery that sent an innocent man to prison. What about your seething jealousy over Mama since you found out about her affair? Huh? Who told you to stay married to her and claim Jalen as your own? Grand-mère? Why? To cover up the nasty scandal? But you never forgot, did you daddy? And let’s not talk about your recent crimes. Like forcing me to marry Xavier knowing he was gay!” I shout at him. “And having Nathan beat Brick to death and being the reason that Nathan was nearly killed. Should I speculat
e or tell the press the facts? Huh, daddy? What do you think?”
My father goes silent.
“Call my brothers. Call everybody with the last name Larue and you stop them from talking. If you don’t I’ll write a new musical. And this one will be all about the Larue’s a dying family of Creole privilege and selfish-over indulgence, featuring you!” I hang up on him. The cab driver is looking up at me in his rearview mirror. We arrive to the front of Brick’s sky rise and he’s on the sidewalk waiting for me. I wipe my tears and get out of the car with the best face of smiles I can. He’s grinning and helping me.
“Here’s the key. Go on inside. I’ll get the door man to help me. I’m on the twelfth floor in apart 1205.”
“Brick… I…”
“Go,” he says and kisses my brow and then pats my backside. I pause. Should I tell him now or wait? He’s helping the cab driver. I go inside as if I’m walking on a tightrope, I’m so worried and stressed. In his condo I can see an arial view of downtown New Orleans. I go over to the window and stare out across the distance and I can see the Super Dome. Brick comes in with the door man lugging all my things. My phone is buzzing so much I turn it off. When he’s done I open my mouth to speak, and before I can say anything the phone in the condo rings.
Brick walks over and picks it up. He tries to end the call but the person on the line doesn’t let him. His gaze lifts to me. His face goes slack as he listens. He says yes and that he understands and will be there tonight before he hangs up.
“Pops?” I ask.
“My brother.”
“So he knows, you’re home?”
“Yeah, I had told them when I was coming back. So they knew.”
“Brick…”
“I hear that your father outed me to the press?” he says.
“I wanted to be the one to tell you. It’s an invasion of your privacy. I’m so sorry. I had no idea he would do that. I just found out in the cab. I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for, Coco? This isn’t your fault.”
“It is,” I insist. “If I had given press interviews after I won the Tony award they wouldn’t have went after my family.”
“Of course they would have. You live in the day and age of TMZ. If you become a celebrity you have an automatic target on your back.”
“No, if I had put my foot down with my father long ago, he would have known better than to mess with my life. He does as he pleases with no consequences.”
“I’ll handle Pops.”
“Brick, no…”
“It’s okay. He wants to see me. I’ll go and come right back. We’ll be okay.”
“No!” I take his arm. “I want to face Pops.”
“What?”
“I need to see him. Talk to him.”
“Why?”
“I’m your wife now. Remember. I’m family. He has to see it for himself to accept it.”
“You don’t know Pops. He hasn’t changed in four years. Before we tell him we’re married I need to deal with him. Prepare him.”
“Well I’ve changed. We face him together. That’s how we do this Brick. Every step of the way, we do it together. Okay?”
Brick smiles. Whatever you say, Mrs. Bondurant.”
I kiss him and pull him down on the leather sofa. Before we go to the bayou, I have some wifely duties to fulfill.
The drive into the bayou is so different for me now. I remember nothing of its beauty and mystery. All these years my mind had painted a more commercial, one-dimension viewpoint of the swamp lands and trees. Brick is right. I feel myself being charged with energy and authenticity now that I’m home. Everything is renewed.
“Did Pops or your brothers call you when we were in St. Kitts?” I ask.
“After my rescue from jail I turned my phone off.”
“Where is it?” I ask him.
“Where is what?”
“Your phone?” I ask.
He gives me a sheepish smile and continues to drive his sleek sports car faster than allowed over the rickety bridges we must cross.
“Where’s the phone Brick?”
“In the middle console.”
I open the console and locate the phone. I turn it on. The passcode screen surfaces first.
“What’s the code?” I ask.
“3429,” he says.
I unlock his phone. I immediately go to his text messages. There are over twenty from at least thirteen different women. “Brick?”
“I haven’t spoken to any of them since St. Kitts.”
I delete the messages one by one. I then go into his contact list and start blocking their numbers.
“Hey? Some of them are family and friends Coco?”
I sigh and shake my head in shame.
“I just, I dunno. I’m feeling insecure.”
“Why?”
“Because we aren’t married!” I burst into tears. “We went through that ceremony but it was just words. We aren’t legally married. And now we’re back here.”
Brick frowns. He glances from me to the road and then back to me. “That’s bullshit. What we said to each other is more binding than any legal document from the state of Louisiana.”
“You mean when I couldn’t get my vows out to you?” I sniff and smile.
“You said what I always wanted to hear from you: I want to marry you.”
I shudder with embarrassment. I’m not sure why I’m crying but I am. And then Brick slows down on the road and stops. He throws the car into park. We are in the middle of the forest. No other cars in sight.
He turns my head and looks into my eyes. “You don’t trust me?”
“I do,” I say. “I swear.”
“No, you don’t. Not really. I understand. It’s okay to say so, Coco. We have to be honest. We’re home now and you have concerns.”
“What if he takes you from me? What if he does or says something that makes you regret marrying me? I can’t lose you again, Brick.”
“I’m never going to let Pops destroy what we have. It’s time I face him. And with you at my side I can do it. Please have just a little faith in me. I’ll prove myself to you. Okay?” He takes the phone and rolls down the window. He throws it out.
“Brick?”
“Put me on your phone plan. I belong to you don’t I?” Brick smiles. I hug his neck. Secretly I am glad the phone is gone. We N’awlins girls don’t like sharing our men either. Brick kisses me and I swear if I don’t stop him soon he’ll have me bottomless and in his lap.
“We have to go. Before it gets dark,” I say and push him off.
He groans and starts the car. “Fine. Let’s go face the boogie man.”
“I’m ready. I promise.”
He drives us through the forest listening to me tell him about New York, and my life there. All the loose ends I must tie up to move back home. He vows to go with me to help move me home, but I insist that he work on getting the club open. He agrees. We arrived at the embankment to the swamp. Brick’s brother waits for us. He gets out of his truck when Brick parks next to him. He looks unchanged. Jessup even wears the same patterned lumberjack shirt I saw him in years ago. He nods at me, and Brick smiles at him.
“Pops home?”
“He’s waiting,” Jessup says.
“Then let’s go.”
I hold Brick’s hand as we walk to the boat and I board with his help. Brick brother says nothing the entire trip into the Bondurant camp. In fact none of us speak. Me, because I’m nervous. Brick, because he’s kissing on me as I sit on his lap.
I wait to see the tell-tale sign of the Bondurant camp. The tall log cabin with four stories sitting out in the marsh and trees. It looks just like our set design in New York when it appears. I can’t believe I captured this place so well from memory when other details weren’t so specific. We arrive to find a few people on the front the porch. One in a rocker. I hold Brick’s hand as we walk toward the house. The door opens and Evangeline is waiting for us. She too looks exactly the same. Th
e woman doesn’t age. Her youth must be part of her magic. She hugs me and I’m reminded of the familiar smell of licorice.
“Bonjou, welcome back. I told you we’d see each other again,” she grinned.
“Hi, Evangeline,” I say
A little girl hides behind Evangeline. There are other children running around laughing and playing but this little girl is familiar. She’s no more than four or five. She has the brightest blue eyes and long blonde hair that is straight and almost golden.
“Is this Moonstar?”
“My name is Star!” she says.
Evangeline smiles. “That’s her. All grown up. Say ‘ello.”
Moonstar hides her face in Evangeline’s skirt. She’s bashful and sweet. Evangeline chuckles and picks her up and puts her on her hip. “Pops is waiting for Brick. You can come with me while the men talk.”
“That won’t be necessary. We’re going to see Pops together.” Brick says.
Evangeline eyes stretch and her gaze levels on me. “You sure you ready for that meeting, Ms. Coco?”
“I’m Mrs. Bondurant now,” I say and show her my ring.
The snide smile to Evangeline’s lips melt. She turns abruptly and walks off without a word of congratulations.
“Well that went okay?”
Brick chuckles. “She’s happy for us. Trust me. Evangeline don’t like surprises. Thinks she knows everything. Guess we proved she doesn’t.” He then puts his arm around my waist and hugs me from behind. “I can meet with Pops on my own Coco. You don’t have to do this with me.”
“No. I want to do it. He and I have never really had a real conversation. I’m his daughter in-law. We should try.”
“Okay,” Bricks says. “Let’s go.”
Together we walk through his family home and Brick stops to hug one child after the next. Seems to be many more kids home than I remember on my first visit. The place is filled with laughter and playful screams of children. It should relax me. But it doesn’t. We make the walk to Pops and my stomach is so sour I feel like I might throw up. I’m reconsidering my bravery all the way up to the door. Brick goes in first and pulls me in behind him.
Pops stands at the pool table. He’s still a tall, brawny man wearing a white shirt stained wth motor oil and sweat. He has on dungarees that hang on his wide hips like that of a plumber. When he leans in to take the shot we can see the crack of his ass. The place is a little more modern. Pops walks around the pool table. He’s playing with a man who looks close enough like him to be his brother. He takes another shot and then looks up at us.
