Bayou My Love: A Novel

by Faulkenberry, Lauren

  “Hey.” He lifted my hand to his lips. “No more. It’s killing me, seeing you so sad.”

  “Angry tears,” I said, my voice cracking. “I’m not sad. I’m furious. It just comes out this way.”

  His lips moved against my fingers. “We’ll fix this. It’s going to be fine.”

  “I hope so. Because right now I feel like I hitched a ride on the Titanic.”

  He smiled. “You’ll see.”

  Behind us, a familiar voice growled, “Well, ain’t that sweet.” My whole body stiffened.

  Remy stood next to the table, his hands on his hips, so close I could see the dirt on his fingernails.

  My stomach churned. Jack stared at me and gave me the slightest shake of his head.

  “Saw you on TV, champ,” Remy said to him. “Doing the whole city proud, aren’t you?”

  Without raising his eyes, Jack said, “We’re trying to have dinner here, Broussard. Or didn’t you notice?”

  “Well, where are my manners,” Remy said, his voice deep. “Am I interrupting something between you and Miss Firecracker here?”

  I kept my eyes steady on Jack’s. They seemed to darken to the color of spruce.

  “Really, darlin’,” Remy said to me. “You didn’t strike me as the desperate type.”

  He pulled a chair from behind him, shoved it up against the table and straddled it, leaning his elbows over the back. “I got to tell you, sweetheart, you’re wasting your time with this one. I was hoping he’d be out of the picture by now so you and I could pick up where we left off.” He winked at me, and I dug my fingers into the edge of the booth. I wanted to beat his face into the floor.

  “Leave us be,” Jack said, his voice low. “I’m only asking once.”

  “Or what?” Remy said, laughing.

  “You’re wasting your time,” I said. “All these games of yours.”

  His laugh, hollow and deep, raised the hair on my arms.

  “We know what you’ve been doing,” I said. “Don’t think for a minute you’ll get away with it.”

  Jack kicked me under the table, but I stared straight at Remy.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

  “It’s only a matter of time until—” I said.

  Jack stepped on my foot and interrupted. “Don’t make a scene here,” he said to Remy, his voice cool and even. “I like Brenda.” Jack looked at me, willing me not to say anything else.

  Remy grinned. “I didn’t come to make a scene, Mayronne. I came to say I hope y’all find that crazy arsonist soon. It’s a shame y’all can’t seem to catch him.”

  I couldn’t stand that smirk any more. I stood and poured my glass of beer right into his lap.

  Remy jumped up out of the chair. His shirt and pants were soaked. He leaned close to me, and for a second I thought he’d hit me for sure. But he just grinned and said, “Is this your way of trying to get my clothes off, sugar? I do love a gal that likes to play dirty.”

  “Get out of here,” I said, my voice low. “Before I think of something to do with this empty glass.”

  “You should listen to the lady,” Jack said, standing.

  “Hmm,” Remy said. “You know what they say about gals with hot tempers.” He slid his finger along my jaw, and I grabbed his hand and twisted it backward as hard as I could. He struggled for a moment against my grip, clearly surprised. But he slipped out of my grasp easily when he put his weight into it and squeezed my wrist so hard it stung. He gave me a look that chilled me down to my toes.

  Jack stepped between us, forcing Remy to drop my arm, and said, “You know, your brother got all the brains in the family.” He kept his voice quiet, but it didn’t make a bit of difference. We were the most interesting thing in that diner, and everybody stared at us like they were soaking up the details so they could run home and tell all their friends later.

  “Don’t you dare talk about him,” Remy said, his eyes turning cold. The muscles in his arm tensed as he gripped the back of the chair.

  “Hell must’ve been full,” Jack said, his eyes narrowed. “That’s the only way he’d go before you.”

  In a blur, Remy grabbed Jack by his collar and spun him into a headlock. The chair tipped over, and I moved to separate them, but they crashed into the next table, knocking the ketchup bottles and salt shakers to the floor. A group of diners stood, backing away from their table as Jack wriggled free of Remy’s grip. Remy pulled his fist back by his hip and swung, catching Jack right below the eye. When he swung again, Jack blocked his fist and nailed him in the jaw, knocking him backwards. Remy stumbled, but caught his balance and lunged again, his teeth gleaming against his skin. Jack ducked his punch and backed into a booth. Plates crashed to the hardwood floor, glass splintered. Remy drew his fist back, but before he could throw another punch, the cook came barreling down the aisle and grabbed him from behind, locking his arms by his sides.

  “Brother, how many times we got to throw you out of here?” the cook said, a cigarette dangling from his lip. His face was red, his short hair damp with sweat.

  “This ain’t got nothing to do with you,” Remy growled.

  The cook, his apron splattered with grease, grinned as he cranked Remy’s hand toward his shoulders until he winced. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “My diner, my business.” He held Remy easily, one hand drawing the cigarette from his lips and thumping the ashes into a cup on the table. He glanced at Jack as Brenda sidled between them.

  “You two want to roll around like a couple of alley cats, you take it outside,” she said. “Unless you want to spend the night in jail.”

  “You want me to call the sheriff, Brenda?” the cook said. “You just say the word.”

  “Sorry,” Jack said to her, smoothing his shirt over his chest.

  “You ain’t begun to know sorry,” Remy said. “But you will.”

  The cook tightened his grip and pushed Remy toward the front door. “That’s it,” he grumbled. “I’ve had enough of this shit.”

  I stood behind Jack, one hand gripping the back of the booth, one over my mouth. All around us, diners stared, their forks frozen in midair. It seemed I’d never be able to have an uneventful night out anywhere in this town.

  “What is wrong with you, Mayronne?” Brenda said, waggling her finger at him. “You are better than this. What’s gotten into you?”

  “I’m real sorry, Brenda,” Jack said again. “We’ll go. Send me a bill for the damage.” He glanced around the room, his head lowered. Part of me wanted to crawl under one of the tables and hide, but part of me wanted to kiss him right there in front of everybody.

  The diners stared as the cook shoved Remy out the front door. Jack was still red from his shirt collar to the roots of his hair.

  “I’ll get you a couple of doggie bags,” Brenda said, her voice still stern. “That boy deserves a knuckle sandwich every now and then.” Walking past him, she paused, then said close to his ear, “But next time, don’t do it here.”

  Jack nodded and left a few bills on the table that would have covered dinner three times over. He placed his hand on my elbow and steered me to the door. The customers’ eyes followed us as we passed, then quickly turned back to their plates. The chatter started up again only as we reached the door.

  Outside, it felt twenty degrees cooler. “Way to pretend he’s not there,” I said.

  “The circumstances changed.”

  “I really wanted to deck him while you had him distracted. You think fighting dirty makes me a bad person?”

  Jack opened the Jeep door for me, giving me a look that said he wasn’t entirely put off by that idea. “One of us in a brawl is bad enough. That wasn’t exactly the relaxing dinner I had in mind.”

  “So we’ll have it at home.” I leaned toward him as he climbed in. “How’s your eye?”

  “Fine,” he said.

  A cut over his eyebrow was bleeding. When I touched it, he winced. “It’s starting to swell.”

  �
��I’ve had worse.”

  He cocked his head, staring past me into the parking lot. A soft rain was falling. At the back corner of the lot, Remy leaned against a rusted-out pickup, smoking a cigarette. When Jack started the car, he turned his head in our direction, smoke swirling around him. We pulled onto the road, and I watched him in the side mirror, growing smaller in the distance. The rain fell harder, but still he leaned against the truck, one foot propped on the tire, like he was waiting for the rain to wash something away.

  “His first punch is always a left hook,” I said.

  Jack turned to me, his brow furrowed.

  “Just for future reference.” I pulled the box of shrimp from the bag and popped one in my mouth. “It’s a pattern with him. He’s fairly predictable.”

  He looked at me like I was some puzzle he was missing a few pieces for, and his lips tightened in a thin smile. “Don’t eat all those without me,” he said, nodding toward the bag. “We can’t exactly show our faces in there anytime soon.”

  “Oh please. Not one of them would have complained if you’d knocked him out cold.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “These, by the way, are fabulous,” I said. “Might be worth a brawl.”

  “This isn’t a joke, Enza. Remy’s not a guy to take lightly.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? He nearly burned the house down with me in it.”

  “You shouldn’t have accused him,” he said, his voice low. “The last thing we need is for him to get desperate.”

  “Well if he knows we’re on to him, maybe he’ll get scared and back off.”

  “Guys like him don’t get scared.” He said this like there was no room for argument.

  We rode in silence. At last he said, “I don’t want you going out by yourself any more. Not until this is settled.”

  I laughed. “What are you, my mother now? Come on.”

  “I’m serious,” he said. “If he’s coming after you, it’s to get back at me. And there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make me suffer. If he thinks you’re important to me, then that puts you in danger.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but the stern look on Jack’s face made me stop. He wasn’t just being protective—he was worried. I shivered at the thought of just how far Remy might go to hurt one of us. Rage was nothing to be taken lightly.

  Then I wondered exactly how important I was to Jack. He meant more to me than I was ready to admit. One thing at a time, I kept telling myself. Finish the house before resolving whatever this was between Jack and me. I’d been foolish to think I could have a simple fling with him. The feelings I had for him were growing stronger by the day, but I had to tamp them down long enough to finish the job I came here to do. I needed to separate these two forces that were vying for my attention or else they’d rip me apart. And if that happened, I’d likely lose them both.

  ~~~~

  We went back to Buck and Josie’s to spend the night. The two of them had gone over to their friends’ house for poker night—at first they’d threatened to cancel, but we insisted they go. I didn’t want anyone else being put out. Now I was glad they weren’t home to see Jack come in with his bruised face.

  After we ate, I poured myself a bourbon and curled up on the couch while Jack took a shower. I closed my eyes, letting the hum of the katydids lull me into a stupor. A giant moth beat its wings against the screen behind me, fighting to get to the lamp light.

  At last Jack came out of the bathroom, his hair wet. He was wearing a clean plaid shirt and a pair of jeans with a hole in the knee. He poured himself a drink and sat next to me on the sofa.

  “You should let me take care of those cuts,” I said.

  “Ah, it’s nothing,” he said, touching his eyebrow. Remy had landed a couple of good punches before the cook had pulled him outside, still grappling and swearing. Jack had come out with a bruise on his cheek and cuts on his chin and eyebrow.

  I went into the bathroom and dug in the medicine cabinet until I found the barest of first-aid essentials. Jack waved me away when I tilted his chin up and dabbed some alcohol on his eyebrow.

  “A couple of these are deep,” I said, looking at them under the lamp light.

  “I’m fine,” he said, turning his head away.

  I climbed onto his lap, my knees by his hips. “Hold still,” I said. His body tensed beneath me, and he stopped squirming.

  “Only scratches,” he said, his eyes steady on mine.

  “I know, tough guy. Just humor me.” I dabbed the cut on his jaw first. “Does that hurt?”

  “No.” He rested his hands on my thighs, and a tickling heat traveled over my skin like an electric current.

  I swabbed some ointment on his eyebrow, and he flinched. “Sorry,” I said. They didn’t look bad enough for stitches, but I put a tiny bandage on the deepest one to hold it together. “How about this?” I asked, touching the bruise around his eye. “Does that hurt?”

  “A little.”

  I kissed his brow lightly, just above the cut. “And here?”

  “No.”

  I kissed him on the neck, just below his jaw. “What about here?”

  His hands slid beneath my skirt, up to my hips. “No.”

  With my lips barely touching his, I said, “And here?”

  He sat still, but didn’t kiss me back. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  He placed his hands back on my knees and said, “Maybe we’ve been thinking about this backwards. Maybe I need to get as far away from you as possible.”

  “What happened to ‘I’m not letting you out of my sight’?”

  He sighed. “If Remy’s after me, then the worst thing I can do is stay near you. That just keeps you in danger.”

  “So you don’t want to stay with me, and you don’t want me alone. That doesn’t leave a lot of options.”

  “You could stay here.”

  “Jack,” I said, frowning. “I’m not putting Buck and Josie out like that.”

  “They’d love to have you.”

  “No. I need to get back to Vergie’s. I’m done being scared.” I already felt silly not going back tonight, despite the nausea that hit me every time I pictured sleeping upstairs in the house.

  “I could send one of the guys to stay with you and keep an eye out,” he said.

  “Absolutely not. It’s you or no one.”

  “While I’d be thrilled to hear that in any other situation, I think in this one you need to reconsider.”

  “I don’t need bodyguards,” I said, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Besides, they won’t take care of me quite the way you do.”

  “It’s nothing to take lightly. Whatever this is,” he gestured in the space between us, “we need to put it on hold. Just until everything blows over.”

  I stared at him, my jaw slack.

  He took my hand. “It’s not safe for you to be so close to me. And I can’t stand the idea of you being hurt because of me.”

  “Jack,” I said. “Don’t.”

  “I can’t be with you if it puts you in danger. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

  “I’m a grown woman, Jack. I get a say in this. You don’t get to decide without me that it’s best you leave.”

  He squeezed my knee. “It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

  “I’m not about to let somebody like Remy decide how I live my life. Or who I spend it with. If he wants to come after me, then fine. I’ll be ready.”

  “It most certainly is not fine,” he said, his hands tightening. “If he’s gunning for me, I want him to come after me when I’m alone. Not when I’m with you.”

  “But I—”

  “End of discussion,” he said, his voice gruff. “I won’t have you in the middle of this.” He lifted me off his lap and set me down as he stood, like he expected me to stay wherever he put me.

  I couldn’t believe he was saying this, that he was leaving me. Especially now.

  “Don’t you ‘end of discus
sion’ me,” I said.

  He sighed, running his hands through his hair.

  “Don’t you dare leave,” I said. “We’re in this together.” My voice started to crack, and I felt a surge of panic, like I had when the flames had reached the ceiling, when it seemed like I’d made a fatal mistake. My throat tightened. It hurt to breathe. “I don’t know what I’d do without—” My voice broke with a sob.

  He strode to me so quickly that I thought he would bolt past me and through the door. But he slipped his arms around me and pulled me tight against him. “Easy,” he whispered. “It’s OK.” He held me so close I could feel his heart hammering against my chest. He stroked my hair, whispering in my ear.

  Still, I trembled.

  “Shhh,” he said at last. “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

  Shivering, I wound my arms around him. I couldn’t get him close enough.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just want you to be safe.”

  “I only feel safe with you.”

  He kissed me on the forehead. “Come on. You’re exhausted.”

  I let him lead me up the stairs to the green bedroom. He pulled back the sheets and eased me onto the bed. Climbing in on the other side, he slipped his shirt and jeans off and tossed them onto the chair in the corner. I turned onto my side, and he pulled me to him. He slid his leg over mine, holding me in place, and at last I felt like the world wasn’t going to explode around me. His lips brushed my ear as he said, “Get some rest, cher. You’re safe now.”

  I felt the sting of tears as I closed my eyes, listening to the night birds calling outside. Lying there with him, feeling the warmth of his body encircling mine—there was no other place I wanted to be. But in a couple of weeks, this would be over. I would leave. He would leave. For the first time, I thought of the house not as Vergie’s, but as another place someone else would live in, a place I could never go again.

  And I hated the thought.

  Chapter 19

  My father’s visit had given me renewed purpose. I was ready to tackle the next round of repairs and prove this was only a minor setback. Nothing I couldn’t handle.

  Jack, after insisting on stopping for coffee and beignets, drove us back to Vergie’s. He licked powdered sugar from his fingers as we pulled into the driveway, and I knew he did it just to punish me for sliding out of his grasp when we first woke. Buck and Josie had already left for the hardware store, so we had the house to ourselves. He’d threatened to keep me in bed all day, whispering his plans in my ear with his limbs tangled around mine. If it hadn’t been for my father’s threats the day before, I would have stayed there and let him make good on all of his delicious promises.