by June Shaw
“Don’t you call me Mister, either,” he said. “I’m Gil. And your name, lovely lady, is…?”
Color flooded Stevie’s cheeks. She giggled. “Stevie Midnight.”
“She’s my first cousin,” I said.
“I’m sure Cealie’s told me about you. But with the years creeping up, I forget. Please excuse me,” Gil told her.
“No way are years creeping up on you,” Stevie replied. She kept grinning at him like a flirtatious thing was going on at her end. Then she addressed me, “But I doubt if cousin Cealie mentioned me. I sometimes think she’d like to forget I exist.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I gave her hand a friendly squeeze and smiled at Gil. “She’s one of my favorite relatives.”
I let go of Stevie’s hand and discreetly pinched my right palm. Hoped my lie wasn’t a big one.
“Come join us at our table,” Stevie told him, still wearing that silly expression. Her eyes actually sparkled. Her cheeks stayed rosy.
No, don’t join us. What would Gil and I say in front of you?
“Thank you. I will.” Gil swung an arm out, letting us lead the way.
“But we were almost through eating,” I said.
Gil saw my smile vanish. He looked amused. He widened his smile at me, probably looking forward to seeing me squirm while I tried to explain our relationship to my cousin.
She stepped out ahead of him. I walked behind Stevie toward the table where we’d sat. Gil touched my lower back. His hand remained, its heat shooting pleasant chills to significant parts of my body.
“Here we are,” Stevie said, reaching our table. “Oh, everything’s gone.”
Gil no longer touched me. He looked unhappy. “I’m sorry that happened.” He stepped toward our waiter.
“But we were finished with everything,” I said.
He spoke to the waiter for only a second.
Jake Bryant came rushing to Gil. “We need to talk.”
Gil nodded. He smiled at our waiter, who hurried away. Then Gil came to us. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to join you.” He glanced at Stevie. His gaze held on mine. “I’ll look forward to seeing you another time. Soon.”
“So nice to meet you,” Stevie said, accepting his handshake. “You certainly will see us again real soon.”
Gil gave my shoulder a light squeeze. And then he was gone.
Then I breathed.
“Oh. My. God.” Stevie leaned toward me. “That man is gorgeous.”
My throat stayed tight. I nodded.
“So tell me how you know him. Oh, Cealie, you have a real hunk there.”
I shook my head, finally loosening my throat so words could seep out. “No, he’s not mine. Not my hunk.” I shook my head.
“Then tell me how he can be mine.”
Okay, I didn’t really want to renew my relationship with Gil. But I sure didn’t think my cousin should try to hop in where I left off with him.
“He’s a grown man. He can be with whoever he chooses,” I snapped.
“Whomever,” she said, correcting me.
“Yes.”
“You own a copyediting agency and don’t know that?”
“Of course I know it, but the word sounds pretentious. I don’t say whomever unless I need proper grammar. I don’t try to sound proper with you.”
“Whatever.”
“Whomever,” I said.
Soon I could hear Gil’s voice. I quit talking and listened. He stood a few feet away from us, past tables filled with customers, and I could hear his annoyed tone with Jake. So unlike Gil to raise his voice.
A distance beyond them, I was surprised to see Father Paul Edward and his female escorts still here. They sat on stools at the bar, all laughing. And was that orangey drink in the priest’s tall glass liquor?
“She’s not!” Jake Bryant told Gil. His angry voice made customers at nearby tables stare at them. So did we.
Gil touched Jake’s arm and tilted his head toward the rear of the building. They walked off, toward what would be the main office. There, Gil would let Jake share all of his complaints without other people listening.
“At least we know what that’s about.” Stevie made her fingernails tap dance on a black square of our tablecloth.
“I don’t even know who he’s talking about, so how could I know the problem?”
“I’ll guarantee you, he’s talking about Babs.”
“How would you know that?”
“Uhhh.” Stevie touched her temple.
I had no idea whether this meant she had figured out their problem or she was psychic and guiding spirits told her. Or maybe she had a headache.
“We should go,” I said, catching the eye of our waiter. He headed in our direction, his cart filled with meals. “Can I have our check please?” I asked.
“It’s taken care of.” He set shrimp and corn soup in front of me and added a plate of shrimp stew and lima beans.
“I’m sorry, you’ve made a mistake.” I set the soup back on his tray.
He returned the bowl in front of me. “I did, ma’am, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken your dishes away without finding out if you were finished eating.”
“That’s no problem. We were done. Thanks, but we don’t want this.”
“Speak for yourself.” Stevie grinned at the seafood platter placed in front of her.
Our waiter gave us fresh iced tea. He set a strawberry daiquiri next to my glass. “Can I get you something from the bar, ma’am?” he asked Stevie.
“I hardly ever drink,” she said, which surprised me. She’d yanked whiskey out of her kitchen cabinet to dump in our coffee after I’d tripped over her visitor. Now she eyed my glass holding the red drink. “But I’ll have one of those.”
“Right away.” He walked off, and Stevie seemed to be eyeing his butt.
“Did you lose something back there?” I asked.
“He probably goes to college, and he used can instead of may to ask me about a drink. I’m a teacher. Maybe I should correct him,” she said and grinned. “I could give him lessons. Private ones. Free.”
I forced a grin to meet hers. I’d never known Stevie to come on to a guy. I hoped going after real young ones wasn’t a new thing for her now that she’d aged. Of course, she’d never had a guy of any age that I’d known of. I’d never thought she was really interested.
Now as I picked at my food and she tore into hers, I considered the concept unthinkable. How could any woman not want to have a man around?
I ate limas and shook my head. No, I didn’t want one, at least not now. Maybe one day I’d want to settle down again. And then if Gil was still available, I’d surely seek him.
Sighing, I stabbed a shrimp from my stew. I needed my mantra. I pictured draping myself with it: I am woman! I can do anything. Alone.
“Yum,” Stevie said. “Try one of my stuffed crabs.”
“I couldn’t fit anything else in here.” I patted my belly and with the opposite hand grabbed a silver shell off her plate. Crabmeat cooked with the Cajun trinity of onions, bell pepper, and garlic filled the tin. Topped with crunchy browned breadcrumbs. I wolfed it down with no problem.
“And here’s a shrimp.” Stevie handed me a fried one.
I chewed and pointed to my plate, letting her know she could have some of my dish.
If her fork came toward my plate, I missed it. I stared at the place where Gil had gone, hoping he’d come back. I watched, disappointment sinking in, and turned toward the bar.
Yep, the priest from Stevie’s stop-smoking group was still there. I knew I shouldn’t butt in but determined I would, especially now.
Instead of having two women with him at the bar, Father Paul Edward now had four.
Chapter 8
“I didn’t think I’d eat all that,” Stevie said after our second plates were almost empty. We still sat at our table, sipping frozen strawberry daiquiris.
“I’m guilty of gluttony,” I said. “I’m going straight to hell.”
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“Maybe.” She sipped her drink. “And maybe me, too.”
Considering damnation made me glance again toward the bar. I’d already looked for Gil and hadn’t seen him again, but Father and his four women still chuckled and drank back there. I felt like I’d need a wheelbarrow to tug me off with everything I’d eaten and wasn’t too interested in going to see about the preacher and his women friends.
But I was Cealie. You like to butt in, Gil sometimes told me, which I knew wasn’t true. You like to control, he’d also said, giving me the urge to map out his future with him alone and missing vital male parts of his anatomy.
I slipped a large tip under my plate. “Father Paul Edward is still here with those women. Let’s go find out what’s going on.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t.” Stevie leaned sideways for a better look at the bar. “Is he holding cigarettes?”
“Let’s get closer to see.”
“Maybe he’s holding some out of habit,” she said, “and getting ready to light up once he gets outside.”
I steamed ahead toward the collared priest. A woman on a barstool next to him watched me and whispered in his ear. One by one, all in the group eyed us.
“Stevie, how nice to see you,” Father said. He nodded to me. “And your friend.”
“I met you at your meeting. I’m her cousin, Cealie Gunther.” I put out my hand.
His grip surprised me with its strength. “Nice restaurant, isn’t it?” he said.
“It’s a great place,” Stevie answered.
“Who are your friends?” I did a backward sweep of my hand, indicating all four women.
Stevie clutched my arm. “Cea-lie,” she warned through clenched teeth near my ear.
I tugged my arm free.
The priest pointed to the woman on his right. “This is Lark.”
Lark flashed me a big smile. I gave a huge one in return. She turned her smile at Stevie, long, sleek bottle-blond hair slipping over her shoulder.
“And that’s her sister, Clark.” The priest tipped his head toward an identical woman, and Clark nodded.
“Kind of like Clark Kent,” I said. “Clever. Only you’re not a man.”
She shoved up her boobs so they popped halfway above her dress. “Not hardly.”
The priest swiveled toward the women seated to his left. These were the two he’d come in with. They looked even more high-end maintenance than the others. Both wore platinum blond hair to their waists and slinky red dresses. Killer bodies. The bling-bling at their ears and necks appeared to be diamonds. “This is Sue Horowitz,” Father said of the one nearest him, “and her cousin, Lois Fields.”
“Hi, ladies,” I said, and they flipped their heads in small nods. “Y’all look like you could be sisters,” I added, and both gave me big grins.
Stevie was probably about to get mad at me. I wanted to know what a priest was doing out with four sexy women and couldn’t figure any way to find out except to ask him.
Stevie moved close and nudged my back. She cut me a watch-your-step look.
Tough.
I shifted closer to the man so I couldn’t see her. “Father, I’d like to ask you something.”
Stevie’s raspy cough was a threatening bark.
Barking noises repeated, but she wasn’t creating them. This came from Jake Bryant, clearing his throat at the mike. The musicians stopped playing.
What now? I’d never seen a manager speak more than once in an evening. I craned my neck to see him across the dining room but had to move farther into it to clearly see the stage.
“We have a special treat tonight,” Jake said. “We’re having a second joke contest.”
He piqued my curiosity to the max. This was something new for one of Gil’s restaurants.
Jake wore an extra-bright smile, which I determined was forced. He put out a hand in showmanship. “If anyone tells a Boudreaux and Thibodaux joke, you’ll receive a nice gift certificate to return here as our guest.”
“How nice?” a man shouted, making customers laugh.
“Will a hundred dollars do?” Jake asked.
A young woman dashed to the mike. Jake stepped away. I looked around for Gil. Didn’t see him. I watched the woman telling her joke.
“One day Boudreaux called Thibodaux and asked what he was doing. ‘I got me a job at an airport. Wait, hold on. Yeah, flight 3672, you can come in Runway One from the west. Oops, here’s another call. Hello. Sure, flight 219, come on down Runway One from the east. That’s fine.’ Thibodaux hung up from the pilots.
“‘Hey, buddy,’ Boudreaux told him, ‘I just heard you telling one plane to come in the runway from one side and another plane to land in the same place from the opposite end. That could be real dangerous.’
“‘Aw, that’s true. Hold on a minute,’ Thibodaux said. He got the pilots from both planes on the line again and told them, ‘Y’all be careful now.’”
Customers chuckled and applauded. They peered around, waiting for the next person to get onstage. I checked out people at the bar.
Father Paul Edward and his friends were gone.
“What’s the problem?” Stevie asked.
I pointed to the empty barstools. “Did you see them leave?”
“Some of us don’t watch people every minute to find out what they’re doing.”
I guessed she meant I shouldn’t spy on them. “So,” I said, “did he pull out a cigarette to smoke outside?”
“Not once.” She twiddled her fingers. “But I’d sure like to.”
I hated to tempt her but really wanted information. “Maybe he’s smoking out there now.”
“Let’s hurry and go see.”
Darn, I did want to check out what the priest and his lady friends might be doing. But if I left now, I’d miss the rest of the joke contest. And Boudreaux and Thibodaux jokes were my absolute favorites. Those two surnames were common down in Cajun country, where Gil’s mother came from, and many good-natured folks in their area loved to share these stories, joking about themselves.
Stevie and I headed for the exit.
“No one else knows a Boudreaux and Thibodaux joke?” Jake asked at the mike. “Then we’ll give the gift certificate to the young woman who entertained us.”
The jokester ran up for her prize. “Congratulations,” Jake said. “I hope more of you will learn some of those jokes because you never know when we’ll have the contests. We’ll definitely have them when a certain person is here.”
I reached the doorway but looked back, heat striking my face. Jake was staring at me.
“What’s the deal?” Stevie asked with the door open.
“Deal?” I tried to sound innocent. “Come on, let’s go.” I went out.
“That manager was talking about you.”
“Don’t be silly.” I made a big show of inhaling through my nostrils to get her interest elsewhere. “Smell that? Somebody’s been smoking right here.”
She studied the ground. “I don’t see any butts.”
“Maybe there are ashtrays on the side of the restaurant.”
She stared at my face.
“I just said there might be.”
“Somebody did smoke close to the door,” she said. “But it must have been somebody lighting up, not putting out.”
I nodded, then pointed ahead. She moved on, and I walked behind, hoping she wouldn’t turn around. I couldn’t keep my smile away any longer.
Gil must have told his manager to have that second joke contest for me. I floated to the car, my thoughts soaring.
No, no, no. I don’t care what Gil does!
Woman here—who can do anything—and without a man. Remember that, Cealie.
Gil hadn’t been around again, and I was disappointed. I tried to convince myself it was only because I missed visiting an old friend. But I didn’t believe it for a second. Gil was hunky. He turned me on.
I needed to stay away from him. Then I could do my own thing. I’d keep discovering what that thing was.
“What?” Stevie spun toward me. “Why are you laughing?”
“I just thought of the funniest thing.”
“Tell me. No, then you might lose your punch. Wait and say it the next time we’re here and there’s a joke contest.”
Great suggestion. If I ever got on stage and said I loved to cook, Gil might roll off his chair, laughing.
Stevie walked past the parking lots. She peeked behind the building where trees stood near a connecting wooden fence. The parking lot was well lit, but not the rear of the restaurant.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Sniffing. Looking.” We returned to her car and got in. Stevie pulled out into light evening traffic.
“You were looking for the priest. Why would he be with all those women? It’s not like they’re his church’s Altar Society.”
“I have no idea. I don’t stick my nostrils into other people’s business.”
“And I do?”
She cut me a look.
Okay, maybe I did like to snoop into some things people did, especially if they were strange. Especially if they affected me.
Both shins bothered me at the same time. I bent and massaged them. They didn’t really hurt. It felt more like pressure, something shoving against them.
A rigid dead man.
I saw him in my mind’s eye as clearly as when I stood next to him on the tall grass. Brown hair, nice middle-aged face, a small wad resembling gum between his lips.
I hadn’t really thought of any gum on his lips before but now realized some was there. He had smelled of vomit.
I stared at my shins. Were those indentations, especially on my right leg? I turned my legs sideways for a different view.
The streets were dark, with only an occasional streetlight flashing by. At this angle, both my legs appeared indented. My heartbeat sped. Would my legs stay this way? I imagined cold, stiff male legs pressing against them.
“Do you see something interesting?” Stevie asked, tone annoyed.
I shifted my legs. Kicked a small package out from beneath the seat. I leaned to push it back. Seeing what it was, I grabbed the pack. “Cigarettes? I thought you quit.”
