by Paisley Ray
Katie Lee snapped, “Don’t forget his cousin, a Louisianan.”
Pulling a large bolt from the bed frame, Jet summoned Francine, “Help me out and hold the bunk for a second.”
“Anyone want a soda?” I asked.
Steadying the bed, Francine had the focus of a bird dog flushing a pheasant from scrub. “What are you implyn’ about my home state? That man was no local. Just an implant.”
“Face it Francine, New Orleans is a world famous den of depravity. Rach almost got killed down there, too.”
“Stop bein’ cooyon,” Francine said. “It’s not the location that almost killed her, it’s her choice in company. When you’re around, Rachael gets into trouble.”
Katie Lee launched her purse. “I will not be spendin’ the year with you flinging Cajun insults.”
Francine ducked. Without any support, the top bunk tipped, and Jet’s tool box and its contents splayed to the ground. Jet jumped backward and knocked into Francine, tumbling them both to the floor.
Pointing her index finger at Francine, Katie Lee hissed, “You take that back.”
From the ground, Francine shouted, “You can’t take back the truth.”
Realizing the altercation wasn’t going to end without intervention, I placed myself between them.
A knuckle knocked our door and pushed it open. I heard a familiar boot-clank shuffle across the linoleum. The man-with-a-plan for anything female had come calling. Hugh Bass, the guy who’d surreptitiously slept with two of my girlfriends at the same time, without either knowing of the other until the end of freshman year, dared to visit.
Hugh had moves like a frisky kitten, and without warning, he pounced. Wrapped in his arms, Katie Lee and I were bulldozed down. “Miss me?” he asked.
“Damn it, Hugh,” Katie Lee shouted.
“Lord Almighty,” Francine sang. “That cursin’ has attracted the devil’s helper.”
“Is that any way to greet me after a long summer apart?”
Francine side-kicked his ass. “Listen here, your head ain’t on right.”
“Hugh Bass,” I squeaked from below. “I’m drowning in armpit.”
He made a meal of untwisting himself from the pile, and his hand groped my behind before he got to his feet. From above he tugged Francine to her feet. Quick as a lizard tail, she grabbed a toss pillow off of a lower bunk and walloped his head, repeatedly.
“Hey, hey now,” he said. “What’s that for?”
Francine moved toward a closet mirror. “You don’t got the sense God gave a gnat.”
Katie Lee sat upright, and he reached his open arms toward her but reeled when she said, “Some nerve you’ve got showing up!”
“I was in the area and thought I’d stop by. Invite my favorite girls to celebrate our one-year anniversary.”
“What are you talking about?” Katie Lee asked.
“The Holiday Inn. I thought we’d all go over to toast sophomore year.”
Not easily spurned, he assessed Jet. Stroking the smooth skin above his lip, he cleared his throat, and in a come-hither drawl said, “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
“Jet,” she said, and asked. “Can you hold the bunk up so I can screw it?”
“I can help you with that,” he said.
Once on my feet, I moved to his ear. “So good to see you, Hugh. Grab my ass again, or sleep with any more of my roommates, and I’ll make sure you think a bag of cold peas down the front of your pants is a good idea.”
“Good to see you too, Darlin’,” he chided.
“How’s Sheila? Are you two still a thing?” I asked.
He scrunched his face and shook his head. Once he and Jet secured the bunk, he slid a hand inside his jacket and retrieved a small postage-wrapped package.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“When I signed in, the sergeant at the front desk asked if I’d bring it on up to you.” Hugh wiggled his eyebrows. “This year, Grogan’s gotten all strict about who comes and goes.”
His bait-and-switch tactic worked. I dropped the Sheila-She-Devil topic and focused on the return postage address. Canton, Ohio. Dad had given me the Ford Galaxie and cash from the sale of a painting I’d refurbished almost a year ago. We were in a recession and business at the shop was slow. I’d seen the books and profits were slim. I couldn’t imagine that he’d send anything else.
“Did Clay-boo send somethin’?” Francine purred.
“Open it,” Katie Lee said.
I shook the package. It didn’t rattle. “Clay’s never been to Ohio.” Moving to my desk, I pulled out a pair of scissors and removed the outer package wrap. It was a black box and inside rested a hinged purple-velvet case and a sealed note.
“Looks expensive,” Jet said.
After draping his ass on a corner of my desk, Hugh added commentary. “Rachael is a treasure hunter.”
“That’s an exaggeration.”
Katie Lee dined on argument opportunities and said, “You do have a knack for uncovering things.”
I ignored her.
“Before you open that, make sure it isn’t cursed or booby-trapped.”
Francine had a point. For just-in-cases, before prying the box open, I thumbed the eye of Horus trinket around my neck. A voodoo maven and descendent of Marie Laveau had given it to me, and I’d made a habit of wearing it for luck.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Katie Lee said.
“Ain’t that sparkly?” Francine quipped.
“What the hell is that glob of gold supposed to be?” Hugh asked.
Becoming all excited about the jeweled oyster brooch I held, Jet said, “Crassostrea Virginica,”
“Virgin what?” Hugh asked.
I glared at Katie Lee. Had she told him about my inexperience?
Jet elaborated on her brainiac Latin, “A bivalve mollusk.”
“What?” I asked.
“An oyster,” she said.
Rotating it in my palm the fastener triggered a memory. A few years ago I’d watched Edmond, my dad’s assistant at the restoration shop in Canton, solder a similar fastener when he repaired a vintage tie clip. It was called a trombone clasp since the pin slipped into a barrel, securing the hinge.
Pride welled as Jet told us, “I was born and raised on brine. My family owns the oldest South Carolina oyster harvestin’ refinery still in operation. We pull em’ outta the May River.” Lowering her voice, she turned up the corners of her mouth. “Where I come from, you aren’t a real woman until you’ve eaten a naked half dozen.”
With his nimble fingers, Hugh began to unbutton his cotton plaid shirt. “I’ll get naked with a half dozen.”
“Hugh!” Katie Lee and I shouted.
We unanimously ignored him.
Francine pushed past Hugh to make her way to my desk. “That eatin’ oyster’s been gilded and bejeweled. Look at the big purple gem set toward the bottom. Someone besides Clay must have ideas about your libido?”
I studied the artful intricacies of the shell. “If an oyster brooch is bringing thoughts of libido to your mind, maybe you need to focus on your own womanness.”
Plucking the sealed card from under the wrapping, Katie Lee handed it to me, “Open the note.”
The envelope was weighty, like a wedding invitation. My name had been penned in a decorative loopy script that resembled calligraphy. Sliding my finger to break the wax seal, I noticed the Crane & Co stamp on the bottom. The flat note card had a raspberry colored border that matched the wax seal.
Darling Rachael,
Seeing you are a sophomore, I wanted you to have something special. An old acquaintance willed this brooch to me and since you’re attending university near the coast, I thought it appropriate to gift the oyster to you.
All the best in your school year. Don’t study too much, be sure and have some fun!
Love,
GG
Katie Lee dipped her head over my shoulder. “GG? Who’s GG?”
“Grandma Geneva.”
“Wait a minute,” Francine said. “You told me your grandparents were deceased.”
”My dad’s mom incarnated over the summer.”
“Rewind,” Katie Lee said.
Hugh’s eyebrows almost connected, Jet’s mouth hung open, and Francine twisted her bottom lip under the top.
“Never mind,” I said.
NOTE TO SELF
Hugh is like lint balls on a boucle sweater, always around. Must find out what happened between him and Sheila-She-Devil. Can’t be good since he’s avoided mentioning her. I warned him!
The oyster brooch looks pricey. I’m wearing it because it was a gift and because, from experience I’ve learned that things go missing from dorm rooms.
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