by Sandra Hill
Sonnier had still been talking while Ivak’s mind had wandered.
“Anyhow, we got into a tussle and the douche bag ended up trying to bite me on the face. I turned at the last minute and ended up with a scratch. He ended up with a bloody nose.”
“Did you get written up?” Ivak asked with alarm. The boy could lose all his privileges with just one incident.
Sonnier shook his head. “There were no guards nearby at the time.”
So many things with that scenario struck a wrong note with Ivak. “What were you doing at Cypress?” It was one of the places where criminals were assigned to hard farm labor. Half of Angola’s inmates lived in the Main Prison, while the other half lived in four out-camps among the eighteen thousand acres, some of which were planted in corn, cotton, and soybeans. “Aren’t you supposed to be working in the prison newspaper office?”
Sonnier’s face reddened and he shrugged. “I was looking for someone.”
Ivak knew in that moment who Sonnier had been seeking and why. There was a particular hardened, too-evil-to-redeem inmate—Ivak knew because he’d tried—who had testified against Sonnier over a prison murder a few years back. This was not good. Sonnier was probably seeking revenge, which would have placed him in a state of enough sin that he drew the attention of a Lucie in the area, always sniffing about for the next victim.
Meanwhile, Sonnier just kept walking, trying to get away from him. Ivak couldn’t let him go now, even if he wanted to. “Where we going, my man?”
“We are not going anywhere, my man. I’m going to the visitors’ area to divorce my sister, Gabrielle.” Surprised at his own revelation, Sonnier glanced over to him. “Why the hell did I tell you that?”
Ivak shrugged. “I have magic powers. So, what unforgivable thing did your sister do to yank your chain?”
“Gabby has given up her life for me. For fifteen years she’s done nothing but work for my release. She even became a lawyer to help me, for chrissake.”
Ivak cringed at Leroy’s taking the Lord’s name in vain. “So, you demanded she do all those things for you?”
“Of course not! Sonofabitch! Will you leave me alone?”
“Well, that makes sense then,” he said, ignoring Sonnier’s rejection of his company. “Divorce her because she loves you. By the way, I’ve never heard of siblings divorcing each other. Is that some kind of prison law concept?” Prisoners were always researching law books and coming up with crazy new ideas to help their cases.
“Drop dead, asshole!” Leroy snapped and stormed ahead of him.
Been there, done that. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about this?”
“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”
Believe me, I would if I could. But wait. Leroy had stopped abruptly in the doorway, almost causing Ivak to walk into his back. “Forget about the hooker bus. God bless Gabby. No divorcing her today.”
“Huh?”
“My sister brought me my very own bimbo.”
“That is love,” Ivak agreed, stepping around Leroy to get a better look.
“And she brought one of the Golden Girls, too. The grandma one, but I thought that old bird died. Maybe this senior babe is the pimp . . . or is that pimpess? Nah!” Leroy frowned with confusion. “Something isn’t right with this picture.”
Ivak wasn’t looking at the statuesque beauty with a big mass of black hair wearing a sleeveless red dress with a wide belt and matching stiletto heels, or the blonde midget in a black-and-white polka-dot dress with matching headband. Nope, Ivak’s eyes were riveted on the woman in the middle, a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman in baggy shorts and a loose tank top, in deference to the ninety-in-the-shade temperature today, probably a hundred and ten inside with no AC. Unlike the bimbo, she wore no makeup, and her hair was pulled off her face and piled on top of her head with a claw comb. She clearly tried to hide her true appearance, but Ivak was a woman connoisseur from way back. He knew a gem when he saw one.
But it was more than that. Ivak’s heart was racing, and his palms had gone clammy. His favorite body part, if it could have talked, would be shouting, Mine, mine, mine! He had to concentrate to keep his fangs from emerging, as they were wont to do when he was in high emotion. This was the worst possible thing that could have happened to Ivak, at this time and in this place.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Leroy asked. “Your face is so white, you look like you might faint.”
Without warning, Ivak’s loins caught fire, and he sank to his knees, just as Vikar had predicted. “I think I’m going to be sick. Or in love.”
Prison creates strange bedfellows . . .
“Ain’t this nice?”
Gabrielle looked at Tante Lulu as if she was crazy. They were sitting on folding chairs at metal tables in a prison visiting area that could only be described as bleak, despite the faded mural on one wall that must have been painted by a prisoner. The smell of pine-scented cleaner rose from the newly mopped floors, and institutional cooking wafted from a cafeteria somewhere. Whistles blew periodically to signal that inmates were to be counted before moving on to some new activity or place, like Pavlovian mice. Bars, barbed wire, and armed guards were front and center, everywhere. And it had to be over a hundred and ten degrees inside, without any air-conditioning. “Nice?”
“Well, I was ’spectin’ ta see chain gangs outside and jailbirds inside walkin’ around, carryin’ them homemade knives made from tin foil, and lookin’ at us wimmen with hungry eyes lak we was an afternoon delight.”
“Oh good Lord!” Gabrielle muttered.
“Remember Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke? Yum! I woulda shared a cell with him anytime.”
In all the years Gabrielle had been visiting her brother at Angola, she’d never once seen a Paul Newman look-alike. Not even close. More like the nut cases in Stir Crazy. Or bad-ass criminals like The Sopranos or that hardened ex-Angola inmate in Urban Cowboy. And chain gangs? They’d been outlawed years ago.
“Tante Lulu, you know this isn’t regular visiting day,” Charmaine said, as if movie celeb convicts would be here on regular visiting days. “They only let us come this afternoon as a special favor to you.”
And wasn’t that an amazing concession, one Gabrielle had never been able to gain on her own?
“I didn’t know you and the warden’s mother used to double date with the Jemeaux brothers. I dated Jimmy Joe Jemeaux one time, but he had hands like an octopus.”
“So did his grandfather,” Tante Lulu said.
Gabrielle did not want to be picturing Tante Lulu engaged in a make-out session, not even a young Tante Lulu.
Charmaine winked at Gabrielle, as if they shared a joke.
Gabrielle felt as if the joke was on her, but then she saw Leroy in the doorway, and she plastered on her positive smile, the one she always wore when visiting Leroy, no matter the news. But he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were riveted on Charmaine. No surprise there. Everyone they’d passed in the past half hour had practically tripped over their hanging tongues.
Gabrielle stood and waved for her brother to come join them.
That’s when she noticed the man rising from his knees at Leroy’s side. He was the same height as her brother, about six foot four, but his shoulders were broader, his waist and hips narrower, every bit of exposed skin striated with muscle. Long blondish-brown hair was tied at his nape with a leather thong. A designer stubble adorned his classically sculpted face . . . in fact, he resembled that male model with pure, sharp Nordic features in those glossy magazine cologne ads. But no designer clothing on him and no denim prison garb, either. Nope, he wore an odd, little white turtleneck collar under a black muscle shirt that hung loose over tan Bermuda shorts. His big feet were exposed in a pair of rubber flip-flops.
She was staring at the man . . . and couldn’t stop herself.
His blue eyes were fixed on her, as well, even when he stood and then leaned against the wall. He shook his head from side to side, as if in disbelief.
&
nbsp; “Who is he?” she whispered at the same time her brother asked, “Who is she?”
She blinked several times to clear her head.
Leroy was gawking at Charmaine.
She reached up to hug her brother and whispered in his ear, “Forget about it. She’s married, happily. With children.”
“Shit! That figures. Here I thought you brought me some good news, for a change.” He sank down to a chair at the table and folded his arms over his chest, his lower lip extended like that of a petulant child denied a treat. In his case, a woman. Jeesh!
“I have brought some good news.” Quickly, Gabrielle introduced Tante Lulu and Charmaine to Leroy and vice versa, then added, “They’re going to help me get you out of here.”
“Give me a goddamn break!” He looked pointedly at first Charmaine, the quintessential bimbo, then at Tante Lulu, who had to appear old and weak. He couldn’t be more wrong. In the two days she’d come to know these two women, Gabrielle had been given innumerable reasons to admire Charmaine’s intelligence, and the old lady was the strongest woman she’d ever met. “What’re they gonna do? Hold a friggin’ bake sale for my benefit?”
“Watch yer mouth, boy,” Tante Lulu warned, whacking him on the arm with her folded Richard Simmons fan. “Yer in no position ta be turnin’ down help, wherever it comes from.” She took a small St. Jude candle out of her pocket and shoved it into Leroy’s hand. “They wouldn’t let me bring in any little plastic St. Jude statues ’cause ya might melt it down into a weapon. Talk about!”
Leroy squeezed the candle angrily, probably hoping to break it in half, to no avail. He glared at Gabrielle then, stunning her with the pronouncement, “I want a divorce.”
“What?” all three of the women exclaimed.
“I want to divorce you, Gabby. You’re no longer my sister. You are no longer my lawyer. I don’t want you to visit me anymore. I’m putting you on my official black list. It’s over. No more wasting your time and mine on a hopeless cause.”
“Bullshit!” Gabrielle said before glancing at Tante Lulu with a shrug of apology. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Tante Lulu tapped her fingertips on the candle that Leroy still held in his hand. “Hopeless ain’t a word St. Jude recognizes.”
“Y’all gotta believe, sweetie,” Charmaine added.
“I believe, all right. I believe I’ve landed in the middle of some senile dingbat circus.”
“Are you sayin’ I’m a dingbat?” Tante Lulu narrowed her eyes at Leroy.
“Are you sayin’ I’m old?” Charmaine narrowed her eyes at Leroy, too.
Both of them wore so much mascara it was a wonder they could hold their eyelids open at all.
“Now wait just a minute,” Gabrielle said. “Leroy, Tante Lulu and Charmaine have already done a lot to help you. You should be grateful, not antagonizing them.”
He continued to glower at them all, waiting for an explanation. Her brother was not making a good impression, but instead of being mad at him, her heart ached with sadness. He was a good guy caught in a bad place. He had no reason to think that his situation would get any better.
“First of all, don’t you think it’s odd that I’m here visiting on a nonvisiting day?” She arched her brows at him. When he didn’t answer, she went on, “Tante Lulu arranged that, with help from Charmaine’s husband, who used to be an inmate here. He’s outside right now talking to the head of security about some concessions we want them to allow you.”
“Concessions?” he asked, unable to maintain his silence. “Have aliens stole your brain? They don’t give concessions to inmates, especially lifers.”
Gabrielle waved a hand dismissively. “We can discuss that later. The most important thing is that Tante Lulu, through her connections, has managed to get you another parole board hearing in November.”
That news stunned Leroy. “That’s impossible. Inmates only get one chance every few years, if that.”
“You’d be surprised what you kin do when you rely on the big guy.” Tante Lulu pointed to the St. Jude candle now sitting in the center of their table.
“And that’s not all,” Gabrielle went on. “Tante Lulu thinks there are some folks in the governor’s office who might be open to a commutation, if all else fails.” Gabrielle took Leroy’s hands in hers. They were trembling. Both of them.
“Why . . . why would you be willing to help me . . . a stranger?” Leroy asked Tante Lulu and Charmaine.
“ ’Cause yer sister asked us to. ’Cause St. Jude is allus lookin’ fer hopeless cases ta make hopeful. ’Cause it’s the right thing ta do. ’Cause we can.” Tante Lulu shrugged. “But you gotta have help from the inside, too. We cain’t do all the work.”
Leroy straightened, instantly suspicious. “How?”
“Well, you gotta behave yerself. Not get inta trouble.”
“And not piss off any more politicians . . . at least for a while,” Charmaine contributed.
“And work with us within the prison,” Gabrielle said. “Maybe we can influence that guy who was a star witness against you.”
“Us? Within? I don’t like the sounds of that.” Leroy was shaking his head, already rejecting what they wanted to do, even before he knew what that was. “No way are you getting within a mile of Little Eddie Hebert. He’s vicious as a rattler in a bucket.”
Tante Lulu spoke right over Leroy’s objections. “Yep. We’s gonna work on that talent show here at the prison. Dontcha be worryin’ none. We’ll take care of Little Eddie. Betcha I know his mama, or one of his kinfolks. There are Heberts up and down the bayou. He’ll be squealin’ like a stuck pig before I’m done with him.”
Leroy’s eyes got wider and wider. He turned to Gabrielle as if for help.
What could she do? She was caught in the path of the same Cajun tornado.
“Does Sigurdsson know you’re gonna help with the talent show?” An expression of amusement bloomed on Leroy’s face, replacing the usual gloom.
“Sigurdsson? Do you mean Reverend Sigurdsson?” Tante Lulu asked.
“Can you introduce us?” Charmaine wanted to know.
“Oh yeah! The Rev is right over there.” Leroy turned slightly in his chair and pointed at the man still leaning against the wall, still staring at Gabrielle as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.
Gabrielle realized in that instant that the odd little white turtleneck she’d noticed earlier was actually a clerical collar. Under a muscle shirt? And she recalled her physical reaction to him. Oh my God! I got an instant turn-on over a priest. How pathetic is that?
“Hallelujah! After all these years my prayers are answered. Thank you, St. Jude!” Tante Lulu had both hands crossed over her chest. The expression on her wrinkled face was one of delighted wonder.
Now what?
“Settle down, Auntie. You look like you’re gonna have a heart attack. What’s the matter?” Charmaine had her arm around her aunt’s shoulders and was squeezing her with concern.
“He’s what’s the matter,” Tante Lulu said, pointing at the man against the wall. “An angel. God has sent me an angel.”
Leroy let out a hoot of laughter. “He may be weird for a man of the cloth, but an angel? I don’t think so!”
“Did you take your blood pressure pill this morning?” Charmaine asked her aunt.
“She must be hallucinating,” Gabrielle told her brother.
“I’m not hallucinatin’. Holy crawfish! Cain’t y’all see his wings? They’re blue and misty-like.”
They all looked at the man, who didn’t seem at all discomforted by their joint perusal. And not a wing in sight, as far as Gabrielle could see.
“Armageddon mus’ be comin’,” Tante Lulu wailed, waving her hands in the air like they were at a revival meeting.
“Yeah, well, let’s get a closer look at ol’ Armageddie,” Leroy said, motioning with a forefinger to the man. “Hey, Rev, come on over and meet some folks.”
As if he’d been waiting for an invitation, the man shoved away f
rom the wall and began to amble over toward their table. It might have been Leroy who called for him, but the man’s eyes were still locked on Gabrielle.
And, be still my horny heart, he was even more good-looking up close. In fact, Gabrielle didn’t think she’d ever met another man so compellingly attractive. Her heart was racing and her lips parted. She sighed before she had a chance to check herself.
He smiled, knowing perfectly well what effect he was having on her. Without his even speaking a word, Gabrielle knew she was in the presence of a player. The kind of man who could make a woman melt with just an arch of a brow. The kind of man women like her should steer clear of. She had no time for games.
“Rev, these people would like to meet you,” Leroy said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Charmaine LeDeux Lanier, Louise Rivard, and Gabrielle Sonnier, my sister.” He put particular emphasis on that last, as if warning the man off her. Then, “The Rev. Ivak Sigurdsson.”
It was an indication of how smart Leroy was that he could recall all those names he’d just been introduced to.
“Rev?” the man replied. “Hardly.”
“Aintcha a minister?” Tante Lulu asked, her eyes still filled with wonder.
“Sort of. Just call me Ivak.”
“And you kin call me Tante Lulu. Kin I touch yer wings?”
“Sure,” he said, while the rest of them asked, “What wings?”
Ivak pulled a chair from a nearby table and shoved it in between Gabrielle and Tante Lulu, forcing Gabrielle to move slightly to his right.
While Tante Lulu was touching his shoulder, Ivak turned to Gabrielle, his eyes smoldering an erotic message at her. “Did Mike send you here?”
