Bayou Brides

by Linda Joyce

  Stunned, she smiled and moved away. He wasn’t Rex. No 12/8 beat. No heat swirling inside her. But had the universe tilted? What triggered all this unwanted attention? Had Momma paid a voodoo woman to put a love spell around her? What other explanation could there be? She certainly hadn’t changed her perfume.

  “My bag and coat are in the waiting room. I’ll grab them and wait for the taxi out front. Thanks for your help, Cooper.”

  A few minutes later, after settling in the backseat of the cab, Nola began counting. “One, two, three, four…” She forced herself to focus on the numbers in their correct order to stop her thoughts from slipping to Emile, Cooper, and most of all, Rex.

  “Five. Six. Seven. If Rex hadn’t been drunk…” She would’ve been so tempted to join him for the night. The longing in his eyes. The tenderness of his touch. The warmth of his hands on her… Her body craved what he offered. If her heart were a book, pages would be filled with anticipation about him. But her brain held up a large red octagon with bold white letters spelling STOP.

  “Shake it off. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.”

  Finally, she was inside her apartment. She slid out of her dress and stepped into the shower. What would it be like if Rex joined her, sliding soapy hands over her body? Would he wrap her in a clean pink robe and whisk her off to bed? Make love tenderly. Exploring each other’s bodies.

  With the blues playing softly in the background, her heart thumped to the 12/8 rhythm whenever her thoughts turned to Rex. Longing filled her.

  “Words might lie. Music never does. But like all good songs, they come to an end. What’s the ending with Rex?”

  ****

  Rex opened one eye. His head pounded. The aromas of bacon and coffee floated to him. He flinched when a giggle came next. Glancing toward the windows, he found no light seeping in around the edges of the drapes in his bedroom. The clock illuminated the time. Five thirty a.m.

  Another giggle reached his ears. Then a bang of a pan.

  “Shit,” he groaned. “If they’re having sex in the kitchen…”

  Pulling on sweatpants, he padded downstairs. “Hey,” he called out to announce his presence before the kitchen came into view and hoped they heard. Given the pounding in his head, he didn’t dare yell. “Everyone better be decent in there.”

  Following the scents and sounds, he rounded the corner to the kitchen. Marquis sat at the large island counter on a barstool with his bare back to Rex. Kayla, dressed in a tank top and an apron, appeared to be wearing nothing else. She stood on the other side of the island, facing Marquis, running a pan across the gas cooktop.

  “Good morning, Rex. Did we wake you?” He’d never seen his sister chipper and glowing in the morning. She gave off a shine that was too damn bright for sunless five thirty a.m. Especially given the alcohol haze still clinging to his brain.

  Marquis swiveled on the stool. Rex started to avert his eyes. Thankfully, his friend wore basketball shorts.

  “Breakfast?” Marquis asked.

  “Coffee,” muttered Rex. He raked his fingers through his hair. “Can’t you keep it down? And no sex on the countertops. I would never be able to get that image out of my mind.”

  Marquis’ chuckle rumbled deep. “At least give us credit. We stayed in the pool house last night.”

  “In fact, we haven’t been to bed yet. I’m off to work as soon as I finish here.” Kayla beamed.

  Rex nodded. “Yeah. Yeah.” They had shown some consideration. Given the cacophony Kayla created making breakfast, if they’d been rockin’ out last night, even with Kayla’s room on the other side of the house, he would’ve heard them. Sound traveled easily through the mansion.

  “Want to join us?” Kayla slid a mug of hot coffee his way. “I’ll cook your eggs next.”

  “No, I’m going back to bed. Don’t wake me.”

  As he walked away, he heard a drawer open, the sliding of metal against metal, and the drawer closed with a quick snap.

  “Ohhh,” Kayla giggled. “I like that.”

  Rex flinched at the whack.

  “Like that?” Marquis asked.

  Rex turned back. Kayla was slightly bent over the counter. Marquis raised a spatula and quickly brought it down, but it barely tapped its target—Kayla’s ass.

  “Hey, have some respect,” Rex called out. “Wait until I’m asleep again. Or better yet, go back to the pool house.”

  He sipped the hot brew before climbing the stairs. Focusing so as not to spill the coffee, he ascended and went to his room, then set the mug on the nightstand. For good measure, he slammed his bedroom door, hopefully shutting out any further noises his sister and Marquis might make.

  Who knew they’d hook up?

  After the encounter the other night at Nola’s, he thought Marquis still had his eye on her. He couldn’t blame the guy for being interested in the enticing singer, but at the same time, he couldn’t have the trumpet player being a player with his sister.

  Maybe it was time for a man-to-man talk to clear the air. Set the tone.

  He would always try to protect Kayla, despite her disdain for his interference.

  Rex rolled over and closed his eyes, drifting back to sleep.

  A little while later, an annoying shove woke Rex.

  Kayla whispered, “You awake?”

  Beside him, he felt the bed move where she sat down.

  “Am now.” Groggy, he didn’t open his eyes. “What’s the time?”

  “Two thirty.”

  “In the morning?”

  “No. It’s Wednesday afternoon. I was worried. You okay? You’ve slept for a long time. Didn’t answer my calls.”

  Rex swallowed as he pushed to sitting. Nola taught band on Wednesday afternoons after school. If he put it in gear, he could make it there in time.

  “Phone was turned off. Whatcha need?” His headache was down to a minor throb.

  Kayla rose and went to the windows, opening the drapes. “I need to talk to you about something important. I want your decision about staying. For a year. I know I talked about buying that condo and moving. But I could be persuaded to change my mind.”

  “About which part?”

  “I want you to stay so I can learn from you. I don’t want to sell the house after all.”

  “Oh?”

  “I want Nola and Marquis to move in here. As you said, we have plenty of room.”

  Rex blinked. Was he actually talking to his sister, or was this an alcohol hallucination? He and Nola under the same roof?

  “You want what?”

  Kayla crossed her arms over her chest. Her lips drew into a thin line. “This is my house as much as it is yours. Just like the business. If I don’t have cash from my portion of the sale of the house, then I can’t support Nola’s band. I’m in love with Marquis. I want to live with him—but not in that cracker-box apartment of his. Seems your suggestion was a good one. Let’s fill up these rooms.”

  “Are you crazy? What will the neighbors think?” They couldn’t run a boarding house, the neighborhood wasn’t zoned for that. But…on second thought, it would be perfect to have Nola living under the same roof. It would create the intimacy they needed to really connect. “Wait. Marquis? He’s going to be in New York all summer.”

  “Well…” Kayla sashayed back to the side of the bed and sat. “That big brother”—she poked him in the chest—“is where I want you to help, too.”

  “Clear up the confusion. My brain isn’t functioning yet.”

  “I want to work in one of your New York restaurants while you work here. For the summer. So I can spend time with Marquis. Besides, how else are you going to make all the changes needed here? It’ll take more than texts, emails, and phone calls.”

  “Kayla. You’re crazy. No. No. No.”

  “No?”

  “First”—he raised one finger—“I want the house. I’ll buy out your share. You can buy the condo, or whatever you want. Make it a commune for all I care. Then you can help Nola. Second, I
don’t want a house full of roommates. Haven’t had one since college. I don’t care how much lust you have for the trumpet player, he isn’t moving in here.” He shook his head. “And third, I am not about to turn you loose in New York. If you want to learn from me, sister, it’s gotta be here. Right now, though, my plan is still to return to New York.”

  “I can see you’re hung over. I’ll give you more time to think about it. I’m open to compromise. But only if you agree to not fire Nola. On Monday when the restaurant’s closed, we’ll have a sit-down and iron out all the details.”

  “Oh shit. I need to call Biloxi Trahan back.”

  “Why?”

  “She wants us to cater her parents’ anniversary party.”

  “Us? Oh, that’s rich.” Kayla laughed. “Nola’s gonna love that.” Chuckling, his sister left the room.

  Rex hopped out of bed, reached for the mug, and sipped. “Yuck.” He hated cold coffee, regardless of the current trend.

  Pulling on jeans, he finished dressing. He had to make it to Nola’s band practice. She was going to talk to him, damn it! He could only solve one problem at a time. Starting with the excessive payments she was receiving.

  Grabbing for his phone, he looked at the list of recent calls, then pushed a button.

  “Mrs. Trahan? This is Rex Arceneau.”

  “You have good news? Tell me you have good news. Nola talked with you, right?”

  “Whoa,” he laughed. “No, in fact, your sister seems to be on a mission to avoid talking to me. However, Arceneau’s will be your caterer. We need to talk menu. Is now a good time?”

  “My sister didn’t convince you to take this job? No matter. Thank you! I already have a menu and a food list. What if I email them to you now? You could look at them, and then give me your recommendations.”

  “That will work. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

  “Perfect.”

  “And if you don’t mind, I’m headed over to see your sister now. I would like to break this good news to her.”

  Biloxi chuckled. “Good luck, sir. If you’ve got any ancient armor laying around, like a shield and a broadsword, I suggest you take them with you.”

  “Good to know.” Rex smiled. He had the element of surprise on his side. He would disarm her if she had any objections to him catering her parents’ party, with the one thing that she couldn’t resist—music.

  Chapter 15

  Nola scooted her chair closer to the small table in her kitchen. “I’m not going to think about him. I’m not going to think about him.” She bit into half of a warm croissant filled with ham and Gruyère cheese. Before taking the next bite, she slathered the top of the pastry with strawberry jam and lifted it to her mouth. A spot of jam dripped onto her blue caftan before she could catch it. Scooping it with her finger, she wiped the fruity blob on a napkin resting beside the cheese plate holding the other half of her breakfast.

  In her mind, she heard Great-Grandmother Grace’s admonishment over her poor table manners.

  “I know, G.G. Grace, if I’d used the napkin properly, I wouldn’t have a spot on my clothes.” She pulled the napkin onto her lap to prevent a repeat of the mess. Too bad she couldn’t do the same with Rex Arceneau. No napkin could stop the next thought of him from spilling into her brain. The man doggedly refused to leave her thoughts.

  “Focus. Music. Trumpet? Marquis? Curious…” She glanced at the time displayed on the stove. No horn woke her this morning. Her reliable neighbor hadn’t practiced. His first notes were usually her alarm clock during the week whenever he was in town, religious as he was about his practice time. Either he had an early call to drive…or he hadn’t come home last night, but she’d wait a while before worrying too much.

  Finishing her breakfast and café au lait, she headed poolside to dip her toes into the water and make use of a lounge chair in clear view of the gate—until it was time to get ready for band practice. The minute she spied Marquis, she intended to have pointed Q & A with him about Kayla. As for her friend, why had she suddenly taken to not returning phone calls?

  Wednesdays were the one day of the week she had a handful of hours to relax alone. It was the only time she listened to music without picking apart a composition. Instead, she allowed her mood to guide her musical selection and enjoyed it flowing through her like gentle waves of healing water. Settling into a chaise by the pool, she adjusted her earbuds and waited for music to carry her away as though she were on a raft floating with the current down the Mississippi River.

  After the first few chords, an image of Kayla popped into her mind. She held a broom. Her stern expression let everyone know she didn’t barter in her kitchen—a woman in control. So very different from the lovesick woman of yesterday. Did the image have some meaning she needed to decipher?

  “No. Not now. Deep breath.” She practiced her yoga breathing to lessen the tension building in her neck. With each breath in and then out, torment slapped her around. Kayla, her very gifted friend, was pitiful outside the kitchen. Marquis’ trumpet silent and nowhere to be found. Plus, her sister in her professional capacity as Keeper of Fleur de Lis insisted she convince Rex to cater the family party. And what about Leon? How could she convince him to join the band? His chosen path promised a definite future in and out of jail. How could she help him? Maybe a chat with his mother? The police were a last resort. But above all, the looming payment of the lease sat at the top of the heap of her problems waving like a flag.

  “Stop it. Focus on the music.” Whenever she let go and the music vibrated within her, then the answers to life’s problems revealed themselves. After another deep breath, she cleared her mind and pictured musical notes floating around her in the air. The warmth of the morning sun caressed her skin.

  The ring of her cell phone brought her out of her bliss.

  “Uhhh,” she groaned, pulling her cellphone from the pocket of her dress. Emile Broussard.

  “Nope. Not talking to you until I’m ready.”

  Days were counting down to the due date of the six-month lease payment. Could she put together a fundraiser in a week or two that would net enough to stop the wolf from destroying the musical house she was trying to build?

  “Not a worry for today. You’ll find a way. You always do. Just focus on the music.” Resettling into the chair, she adjusted a small pillow behind her back, hiked the hem of the caftan to just above her knees, adjusted her sunglasses on her nose, and closed her eyes. If Marquis lifted the latch on the gate, it would wake her—if she managed to drift into a nap.

  “Da. Ta. Daa.” A small breath with each count to the music drained tension away. Her shoulders sagged. She started to drift off to sleep.

  “We are family.”

  Startled by the phone ringing, Nola jerked awake.

  If she didn’t answer, Biloxi would keep calling or start texting until she did.

  “Yes, sister, dearest.” She used her sweetest tone, hoping to defuse any bomb her sister might deliver.

  “Good morning, my beautiful, talented, and oh so helpful little sister. Have you talked to Rex yet?”

  Something was definitely up. Biloxi only complimented her this early in the day if she wanted something or she had bad news to deliver. Her sister practiced the “three good things for each bad” strategy of management. “About catering Momma and Daddy’s party?”

  “Well, that or anything else?” Biloxi’s voice lilted on the anything else part.

  Nola frowned. Something was up. “What? Just say it. What do you know?” She steeled herself for bad news.

  “Why are you accusing me of something?” Her sister sounded hurt. She imagined Biloxi fluttering a hand to her chest as though to cover the wound her words had just created.

  “There are problems here in Crescent City. The Big Easy is anything but. So, please get to the point.” Nola sighed.

  “Rex has agreed to cater the party. Be nice to him.” Her sister’s tone switched to authoritative—the one she used whenever projecting her role a
s Keeper of Fleur de Lis. “Look, I called the only other two caterers I would even consider allowing to cater here, and they’re booked—no surprise. We need Rex. We, as in you and I, can’t do without him for this event. It’s the largest we’ve ever hosted at Fleur de Lis. Smooth the way with Rex, and I’ll do something for you.”

  Nola squirmed. Why was it whenever her sister played the “you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours” card that she was the one who ended up with claw marks?

  Squeezing her eyes tight, Nola sucked on her bottom lip. She opened one eye and then the other. “What gift is it you want to bestow upon me?”

  “I’ll give you the money for the uniforms you need in exchange for you bringing the band to Fleur de Lis to play for the 4th of July party.”

  “There might not be a band by then.” The words just slipped out. Her mouth was channeling thoughts before her brain was truly in proper gear. Inwardly, she groaned.

  “Nola. Bridgette. Dutrey.”

  “Forget what I said. I’ll figure it out. Talking with Rex is the least of my problems, even though I know he’s going to fire me.”

  “Oh? So you do know about that?”

  “You know?” Nola sat up, pulling on the arms of the chaise and moving the back of the chair upright. Crossing her legs into a lotus position, she gave her sister her full attention.

  “He mentioned he was going to speak with you…about his need to cut back on expenses. It’s not personal. But I told him you’d be devastated.”

  Fury burned in her chest. “He told you before he told me? And why are you sharing personal information with my boss? Telling him I’d be devastated? Why?”

  “In the corporate world, what he’s doing would be a restructuring of the company. You can’t possibly expect him to close Arceneau’s without trying to save it. What would Kayla do? Besides, you will be devastated. I know how much that job means to you.”

  The words echoed in her mind. What would Kayla do?

  “Nola, you know the old saying, ‘pride cometh before the fall.’ Put yours aside. And I’ll help you. Now, tell me, there’s more to this story than uniforms. Why might there not be a band by July?”