by Lynn Shurr
As she approached her place, she bundled her long hair with one hand and held it up off her neck to let the slight breeze dry the sweat trickling down her back. With the chemise clinging tightly to her breasts, she thought only of getting out of her stylish getup and into something cool and comfortable. A young man with a thoroughly professional looking camera stepped from beneath the staircase leading to her apartment, said, “All right!” and snapped her picture.
“What are you doing?” she challenged.
“You are Cassie Thomas, right?”
“Yes.”
“Jackpot!” he shouted and took off running in excellent athletic shoes.
She considered pursuit, but too hot and tired to care what student prank was afoot now, made her way up the stairs and into her unit where the air conditioner blasted out a significant amount of cold. She only hoped she wouldn’t find herself plastered all over FaceBook or some other media outlet with her head attached to a nude body. This close to finishing her Master’s Degree, she could not afford to lose her job.
Her roommate, Kim Wong, glanced from her computer as Cassie breezed through the living area on her way to the bedroom. Resembling a little China doll with her small stature, black bangs and short bob, Kim laid claim to being third generation American but still had the Asian work ethic driving her toward a medical degree.
“Hey, Cass, some guy, not that sweetie, Howdy, came looking for you. This jerk bangs on the door and takes my picture when I open up. Says ‘You Cassie Thomas?’ I say, ‘Do I look like a frickin’ Cassie Thomas?’ and slam the door in his face. Anyhow, someone is out to get you.”
“Yeah, and he did. Who knows what’s happening the way my life is going. Not that I don’t deserve everything that comes my way.”
“You lay more guilt on yourself than my Chinese grandmother could, and she’s really adept at it. You should call your honey and talk out your problems. I bet he still loves you.”
“When a man says you have destroyed him among other choice accusations, I doubt he ever wants to hear from you again.”
“Well, you’re the psychologist. The human mind is messier than a heart transplant. I’ll stick to healing the body. At least you know if a wound heals.”
“We have anything for lunch?”
“Half a cold pizza, some Ramen noodles, iced tea, beer, a couple of apples and a bag of salad past its expiration date. If you avoid the mushy stuff in the bottom of the sack, you can probably get your greens for the day. We do need groceries.”
“I’ll go on the weekend. It’s too damn hot to shop today. The eggs will boil in their shells. So, cold pizza and expired salad it is. Good enough to keep me going until Saturday.”
If she’d stayed on campus and not ventured to the Winn-Dixie, Cassie might never have seen herself plastered on the front page of a tabloid at the grocery store as she waited to check out. She always chose a long line in order to get a free read of her guilty pleasure while waiting. But, there she was looking right at herself. The photographer hadn’t focused so much on her face as her breasts straining that chemise. He’d caught the curve of her arm holding up the mass of her hair like a model posing for a sensuous picture, but someone had Photoshopped her battered laptop case into oblivion. With her lips partly open from sucking in the hot air on her trek across campus and her startled blue eyes wide, she did look every bit like a woman the magazine could dub Howdy’s Hottie.
Howdy’s Hottie Causes Sinners Slump
A reliable source told this reporter that ace kicker, Howard “Howdy” McCoy, has not been able to split the uprights since his breakup with LSU graduate student, Cassie Thomas. Last season, McCoy led the league with a ninety-seven percent success rate in kicking field goals and PAT’s. His golden toe lifted the Sinners into the playoffs but could not keep them there.
During the off-season, informants say McCoy fell hard for the voluptuous psychologist, a frequent visitor to quarterback Joe Dean Billodeaux’s ranch where she visits her son, Thomas, adopted by Joe and his wife, Nell. Presumably, the couple met there and only months later were spotted at the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas. Friends suspect an elopement gone awry. Bellagio maids who do not wish to be named confirm that Thomas abandoned McCoy in their luxury suite. The kicker secluded himself in the room and emerged only after being routed by his mother, well-known cabaret singer, Mariah Coy. He left behind a shambles of empty liquor bottles, pizza boxes, dirty dishes, and sheets.
The blunt-spoken Coy offered us this quote, “I wish the hell my boy would get over her or go after her because he is a damned mess right now. Howdy, if you read this, get up off your ass and take care of it.”
Returning to Louisiana, McCoy spent the summer volunteering at Camp Love Letter, Billodeaux’s retreat for seriously ill children and their families. Even this distraction failed to end his obsession over the fair Miss Thomas with whom he has had no contact since their parting. Since returning to the Sinners summer camp, Howdy has been unable to score, dare we say, because he cannot score with Cassie. His pre-season PATs stand at zero. Cassie Thomas, what must a guy do or not do to get your attention?
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she whispered. An inset picture of Howdy in his black and red uniform only made her heart squeeze harder. He smiled directly at her with that wonderful, loopy grin of his, certainly the most innocent Sinner that ever lived, and she’d ruined him. The article had the story completely wrong, naturally. She hadn’t left him, exactly the other way around. He’d made no attempt to get in touch with her, to apologize, but for what? Everything he said rang true, except for her being a whore of course, and she couldn’t disprove that. Lots of college girls slept around during their four years on campus, and he’d lumped her in with them. As for the cause of his slump, Mariah and his new found family shared the blame.
“Lady, move it,” a harried mother said as the toddler in her cart strained small hands toward a pack of gum in the impulse purchase racks.
The checker asked, “You gonna buy that?”
She shoved the tabloid onto the moving belt and unloaded her groceries after it. Once she returned to the apartment, she’d have to figure out a way to help Howdy without doing further damage. But how, but how?
Opportunity called before Cassie got the containers of yogurt and fresh bag of greens into the fridge. “I saw that tabloid story about you and Howdy,” Nell said. “Having been their target when Joe and I were seeing each other, I know how you must feel.”
“Awful. I don’t know what to do. It’s his family situation causing his problems, not me. He made it clear he never wanted to see me again. I stayed away from Lorena Ranch all summer because of that when I wanted to see Tommy so badly, wanted things to be the way they were before Vegas. I still don’t know who his father is.”
“A fellow named Chet Lovell who left him a brother and two sisters, all sort of grasping.”
“Believe me, Nell, it could have been worse.”
“Joe is taking care of the family problems. I do think you two need to talk. Say, I have skybox seats with some of the team sponsors at the opening game. Want to attend? You can stay with us over the weekend. Nurse Wickersham is in the Madame Pompadour room, but we still have plenty of space since the kids are in Chapelle. Howdy lives a few floors down, you know.”
“I’ve been there.”
“Who knows, you might run into each other in the elevator, or possibly one of you could bring yourself to knock on a door.”
“I could see that happening if you think that door wouldn’t be slammed in my face.”
“I’m fairly sure he regrets his rash words, Cassie. But men, they don’t know how to say it. So, get yourself down to New Orleans right away, okay?”
“Absolutely. Thank you, Nell, for this and for forgiving me about going after Joe. You have a big heart.”
“That’s not all that’s big about me right now. Wait until you see.”
THIRTY-TWO
Cassie waited nervously by the entrance to the skybox.
Several middle-aged men and a young guy, some carrying laptops, entered, giving her the eyeball in passing as if she were an item on the buffet spread out in the back of the room. They took the seats up against the glass overlooking the field. A latecomer with their group slowed as he approached her and said, “You want to sit with us, honey?”
“No, thanks. I’m waiting for friends.” She hadn’t dressed this way to pick up businessmen on vacation, but for Howdy. He should be able to see her form-hugging, scooped neck scarlet top from the field—maybe. Her low-slung skinny jeans were black of course, to carry out the Sinners’ color theme, and belted with a wide studded leather band. Black high heels ramped up her height. In the crook of her arm she carried one black and one red plastic thunder stick, the promotional items for the opening game of the season.
A little too eager, she’d arrived early and gained easy access to the luxury level with the ticket Joe left for her at the box office. Finally, the elevator at the end of the corridor opened to reveal a stout woman overflowing a wheelchair and her gray-haired, hatchet-featured nurse. Cassie took a moment to recognize the patient as Nell bloated beyond belief and covered in a tent-like black dress worn in a vain attempt to look smaller. The red scarf tied jauntily around her neck failed to distract from the sheer size of her belly.
Behind them, the ever stunning Joe Dean Billodeaux moved along nervous as a nanny with twins at a water park. He passed the nurse who wore the old traditional white uniform, cap and shoes rather than the more comfortable and friendly scrubs and came alongside of his wife. His lips moved a mile a minute, and Cassie heard his lecture as they came into range.
“You have one pain, your water breaks, you go to the ambulance, quick, quick. No foolin’ around, Nell, no waitin’ till the end of the game, you hear you me. The EMTs know where you are. All you got to do is call this number, and they be ready for you, cher heart.”
Though Nell seemed a little pissed over his concern, Cassie smiled. Anxiety brought out the Cajun in Joe big time. She didn’t run to him for a hug as she would have earlier in the year. Instead, she waited and accepted that he would only give her a nod and a tense smile as they entered the skybox together. The nurse parked Nell in front of a guardrail on the top level.
The businessmen left their seats and lined up to meet Joe and get his autograph. He thanked them profusely for sharing their box with his wife and her friends at the last minute. When asked if he felt he could beat the Falcon’s young quarterback, he replied, “For sure, we’re gonna win.”
“Even with Howdy Doody McCoy off his game?” the guy who had hit on Cassie asked.
“He’ll be on his game today. Just you let Cassie, here, up by the window to provide a little inspiration for him.”
With a leer in her direction, the fellow answered, “She could inspire me to do lots of things. If it gets too crowded, she can sit on my lap.”
Joe frowned darkly as if debating whether to beat the guy up or not, but evidently decided he didn’t have the time. He only replied, “She’s Howdy’s girl. Don’t you forget that.”
One of his cronies, a pencil-necked geek type who had been engrossed in something on his laptop, suddenly took an interest in his surroundings. “You mean we’re sharing our box with Howdy’s Hottie? I Googled her. Sure, we’ll make space for her.”
“To you, she is Miss Thomas. Got it?” Joe said, his expression going from cordial to dangerous in a second, giving them a close up view of the Billodeaux game face.
The geek paled. “Sure, right. Miss Thomas. Great to meet you in person, Joe.”
“This is my wife, Nell. I expect y’all to take good care of her.”
“Jesus, what’s wrong with her?” the less than diplomatic laptop guy blurted.
“Since you mention it, she is great with child like the Virgin Mary, only we’re having triplets, you see.”
The lean and lecherous one shouted, “Way to go, Joe!”
“Thanks. Look, I have to get to the locker room. Enjoy the game.”
He kissed Nell and left the box, but they heard him greeting others as he made his way to the elevator. The commotion in the corridor increased and headed their way. In burst two of the team wives, Precious Armitage, the plus-sized and then some wife of nose guard Calvin Armitage, and the slim and slinky Sharlette Dobbs who belonged to the tight end, Asa. They arrived with a festoon of pink and blue balloons centered around three big Mylar storks proclaiming, “It’s a boy, It’s a girl, It’s a boy.”
Precious tied the balloon bouquet to the railing, “Look at you, girl. You’re bigger than Fats Domino at his fattest.”
Lovely mocha-colored Sharlette leaned over to kiss Nell’s cheek. “Don’t mind her. You’ll lose that weight and then some running after three more. I certainly did after giving Ace his son.”
“You look great as always. How is your boy doing?” Nell asked.
“As well as any child whose father named him Prince.”
“Others have done that before Ace, so he is in good company. I do wish I could wear animal prints the way you do, but right now I’d only look like an obese tiger.”
“Yes.” Precious smoothed the jacket of her red satin pants suit over her tremendous thighs. With her dark brown skin, she could make it work. “Big, beautiful women should stick to solid colors. But, I don’t know. I’m still wearing the weight I gained with Calvin’s number four around my hips. Fortunately, Cal appreciates a woman with a little heft to her. He’d crush anyone else when he got on top. Joe probably feels the same way with you being so tiny—usually.”
“Don’t upset her! Honey, we tried to visit when we heard you were in the city, but your watchdog over there wouldn’t let us in. She said you couldn’t have any excitement.”
“And we are exciting, yes, we are!” Precious proclaimed. “But, Joe gave us the heads up. Here we are to keep you company during the game. Wait till you see what we got for you. Sharlette, bring it in.”
Sharlette, nimble even in high heels, returned to the hall and came back wheeling a stroller made for triplets. “Our present to the new babies.”
“That is so great! Thank you.” Nell teared up a little. “Sorry, hormones. Ah, Nurse Wickersham, why don’t you help yourself to some of the food while I visit with my friends? Try the barbecued shrimp.” As soon as her caretaker moved away, she whispered. “She’s a former nun from a nursing order. Nadine found her. At least with that face, she’s no temptation for Joe.”
“Not to mention her age, but what about that one? She still giving you trouble?” Precious asked, not bothering to lower her voice. Cassie, hanging out nearby, blushed the color of Sinners’ red.
“No, we’re good. She’s Howdy’s girl or will be again soon.”
“I sure hope so. Calvin says the kid can’t kick an empty beer can across a street right now he’s so tied in knots over her and his family, but Joe is working on straightening things out.”
“Hel-looo! Is this the right box?” The figure of a woman posed dramatically in the doorway. Her huge breasts led the way as she made her grand entrance. The geek goggled. The lecher gave a low whistle of approval.
“Who the hell is that?” Precious asked.
Cassie spoke up at once trying hard to redeem herself in the eyes of Nell’s friends. “Let me introduce Mariah Coy, famous Las Vegas cabaret singer and Howdy’s mother.” Her voice rose above the pre-game noise like the emcee of a floorshow. There should have been applause.
With a toss of her bright red mane in full bewigged splendor, Mariah moved to crush Cassie against her chest. “You can shill for me anytime, girl. I am so glad you could come today. Joe Dean Billodeaux got me the most fabulous gig right here in the French Quarter and the cutest little bright blue cottage in Musicians’ Village to use during my stay. You know, my boy is just too good for this cruel world and needs you to protect him. I told him he threw away the best thing that ever happened to him when you broke up.”
“She’s available, then? How about you, babe?”
the lech said.
“For you, not at any price. Come on, Cassie dear, we need to sit near the window where Howie can see us together cheering for him.” She tucked Cassie’s arm under hers.
“First, you need to meet the other ladies. This is Nell, Joe’s very pregnant wife,” Cassie said, stating the obvious. “And Precious Armitage in the red. Then, Sharlette Dobbs.”
Mariah, her own leopard skin print dress stretched tightly over breasts and hips, nodded. “It takes real women to bring off the tigress look or wear red satin. Pleased to meet you.”
“I like her,” Precious said. Sharlette agreed.
Putting one leg before the other in a model’s strut, Mariah moved down the steps to the front row with Cassie in tow, possibly holding her up on her impossibly high stilettos. “Young man, you look like a gentleman and um—very intelligent. How about giving Cassie your seat?”
“Sure.” The geek snapped his laptop closed and tripped into Mariah’s breasts in his haste to move. “So sorry.”
“Not the first time that’s happened to me. Won’t be the last. Now you, lover boy, make way for Mariah.” She pointed a one-inch acrylic nail painted black with a tiny Sinners’ red devil mascot decal attached to it at the mouthy guy. He made no move to get up and relinquish his prime spot.
Mariah snapped her fingers, no easy feat with nails that long, and a hulking figure no one had noticed after her startling entrance came to her side. “Meet my bodyguard, Billy. Billy, remove this man.”
“Oh, don’t hurt yourself,” Cassie gasped.
