“Hey Momma, you meet Kitty Cat yet?” Shelby giggled before stumbling past us and out the screen door.
“Kitty Cat,” Mason mocked, getting my attention. He leaned over the bar and stared at me, his blue eyes mesmerizing orbs. He had a bit of some kind of sauce in the corner of his mouth. Instinctively, I wanted to wipe it away with my finger. And possibly put that finger in my mouth. The thought started a smile on my lips.
“It’s just Kat, Momma,” Russ said, straight-faced. Mrs. Broussard folded me into her arms, giving me a firm squeeze. “It’s so good to meet you, Kat. My sister, Marion says such lovely things about you.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Broussard.”
She smiled, raising her eyebrows. “Perfect pronunciation, but everybody ‘round here calls me Momma—you can call me Dana if you’re not comfortable,” she quickly added.
“Okay,” I smiled. Truthfully, I didn’t think I’d ever be comfortable calling anyone Momma.
“You hungry? I bet you are,” Dana gasped, before I could answer. I was a little hungry, but mostly thirsty. The last time I’d had anything to drink was on the plane.
“Let me get you a plate started,” Dana offered, and quickly made her way around the tins on the kitchen island, loading the blue and white paper plate she balanced on the palm of her hand to the max, and then laid it on the bar. I sat down and studied the contents—most of which I didn’t recognize.
“We’ve got Coke, grape Kool-Aid, milk…” Dana said, holding the refrigerator door open, ready to serve whatever I requested.
“I’ll have water if that’s okay,” I said.
“Sure, sweetie.” Dana closed the refrigerator door, took a plastic cup from the cabinet—purple and gold of course—dropped a few ice cubes in and filled the cup with tap water. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d drank tap water. I drank bottled water at home.
Mason slid a fork to me; a mischievous grin perched on his full, red lips.
“Thank you,” I said, noticing the sauce had been wiped from his mouth.
“No problem.”
I dipped my fork randomly into my plate and came up with a piece of shrimp covered in a reddish sauce. It was spicy and way too sweet for me. Then I took a bite of rice covered in what looked like brown gravy. It was rich and creamy and tasted as if that one bite contained no less than five hundred calories. Dana seemed to be holding her breath as she watched me eat, so I said the food tasted good to soothe her.
“Alright, y’all, I’ve got to check up on these heathens outside,” Dana said. “You help yourself to anything here, okay,” she told me before disappearing out the screen door.
“I’m out, too, “Russ said. He tossed his empty paper plate into the trash and followed Dana outside.
After a few minutes of silently watching me sift through the food on my plate, Mason asked, “So, where is it you came from again?”
“California.”
“What part?”
“Malibu.”
He nodded, his tongue in his cheek, cap pulled down just above his eyes. My pulse quickened. The boy was too beautiful for his own good, and he totally knew it. I imagined he took advantage of his good looks, which might explain Dixie giving me the stink eye earlier.
“Anybody ever tell you, you look like that Malibu Barbie doll?” Mason asked.
“You’re the first,” I answered, bitingly, intentionally squandering the opportunity to make a joke about him playing with Barbie dolls because I wasn’t in the mood to engage him.
I picked up something on my plate, something long and fried. I held it up for examination with a possible frown on my face. Mason laughed. “That there is a frog leg, Cali girl. Tastes like chicken. Eat it with your eyes closed; you’ll never know the difference.” His tone made me want to laugh, but I didn’t. Before I could say anything, the screen door flew open, and Dixie blew inside, her bark-brown eyes glaring at me in disgust. Somehow, I felt that hating on me was going to become a habit for her.
“Mason, let’s go. It’s been your turn for fifteen minutes,” Dixie griped. The two of them went outside without another word. I picked a little more at my plate, finished my glass of water and went back to Garrett’s room, back to crying, and eventually back to sleep.
Chapter 4
I slept late into the next afternoon, something my father never would have allowed me to do at home. But I wasn’t at home and didn’t have to follow my father’s rules—not that he would have known the difference anyway. The moment I decided I wasn’t getting out of bed unless someone made me, my phone rang. I bolted to answer it, kicking at the comforter on Garrett’s bed until my legs were free.
“Hello,” I answered as quickly as I could snatch my phone out of my bag.
“Hi, Kat. It’s Marion.”
I’d hoped it was one of my friends calling, Olivia, especially, but maybe Marion had news about my dad, or even better, she’d called to tell me I could come home.
“How was your flight yesterday? Are you getting settled in okay?”
So, she wasn’t calling to say I could come home.
“Landing always makes me nauseous, but other than that, the flight was fine. I met your sister last night and all of her kids—besides Garrett. They’re letting me stay in his room.”
“I know Slidell is different than what you’re use to, but they’ll take good care of you. Louisiana’s a beautiful place. Have the girls show you around; maybe drive out to New Orleans and do some shopping or catch a baseball game in Baton Rouge.”
From the sound of it, I wasn’t going home any time soon.
“How is he?” I asked.
“The same, but don’t worry, Kat. He’s a fighter. Everything will be okay.” I wasn’t sure I believed her. “I’ll check back in with you in a day or so,” Marion promised before hanging up.
My dad and Marion used to work together at Manger Mutual. She’d worked in their legal department, but ditched that job for an opportunity at a high-end law firm a few years ago. At the time, my father was a financial planner but had recently been promoted to Chief Financial Officer. I asked my dad once if he and Marion were dating because they spent so much time together. He laughed and said, “Can’t a guy and a girl hang out and be friends without the world assuming otherwise?” He was mocking me. I’d said the same thing to him a week before when he’d asked if anything was going on between me, and Trey Parsons, the boy next door. There wasn’t, so I had my answer. His and Marion’s relationship was platonic.
Since I was up, I got dressed and was making the bed when Bitty swung Garrett’s bedroom door wide open. “Good, you’re up,” she chirped. She was wearing the polka-dot bikini top and cut off shorts she’d had on the day before. “We’re goin’ out on Lake Pontchartrain. Momma packed sandwiches and stuff for us. You wanna come with?” I didn’t, and she must have sensed it.
“Oh, c’mon, Kat. You have to come. It’s only for a few hours, and it’ll be fun—more fun than bein’ here by yourself.” She bounced up and down in front of me, her pigtails flailing, a hopeful smile on her freckled face.
“Okay, I guess.”
“Yay,” Bit cooed and marched off, announcing to everyone that I was coming with them.
I put on my bathing suit, a dark pink bikini I’d only gotten to wear once since buying it. I threw a brown crocheted tunic cover-up over the suit and slid my feet into the only boat appropriate shoes I’d brought, my Dolce flat sandals.
The same group as yesterday loaded into Mason’s truck. During the fifteen-minute trip to where the boat was docked, Dixie glared at me with fire in her eyes. I pretended not to notice, but felt if given five more minutes, she actually might have caused me to burst into flames.
Mason steered his truck off the road, down a gravel driveway and parked beneath several Live Oak trees. Russ, Cody, and Ben hopped out of the back of the truck, took down the tailgate and unloaded three five-gallon gas containers, and started down a stone footpath weaving through the Liv
e Oaks.
We had Live Oaks in California, just not like these. These Live Oaks were massive; with beautifully scattered canopies and long, gnarled branches twisting through one another, drenched in low hanging Spanish moss swaying in the breeze.
“C’mon,” Bitty called, waving an arm at me. I realized everyone else was gone.
“Sorry,” I said, and ran to meet her.
The boys finished dumping gas into the boat’s tank as the girls climbed aboard. The maroon and tan pontoon sat beneath a covered dock with a red tin roof and was bigger and newer than I’d expected, with plenty of room for everyone to spread out.
Cody took the captain’s chair. Shelby snagged the seat beside him. Logan snuggled next to Bit; Crystal sat in Russ’s lap, and Dixie wedged herself as close to Mason as she could get, leaving me and Ben the odd ones out. I hoped the others didn’t try to set us up, or that Ben thought I’d be willing to hook up with him just because he and I were the only single people left.
Mason’s arms lay open across the boat’s back seat as he took in the surrounding landscape, offering me a pristine view of his flawless profile—chiseled and wrapped in sun-kissed skin I desperately wanted to taste. He’d taken off his hat, his dark, slightly wavy hair fluttered in the wind. His baby blue shirt sailed across his chest as the hot summer air washed small waves over him. The boy was easy to get caught up in, and staring earned me another eat shit look from Dixie.
I faced the other direction, so it wouldn’t happen again. Unfortunately, turning around put me in Ben’s direct eye line. I smiled slightly just to be nice, but quickly looked away from him. Still, he took that unintentional glance as an invitation to come sit next to me.
“You ever been tubin’”? Ben asked.
“No, but I’ve been sailing a few times.” I said, fiddling with my manicure. I figured sailing was closer to tubing than sunning on a yacht, which I’d done a lot of in recent summers.
“Right here’s good!” Russ shouted.
Cody pushed the throttle up, stopping the boat. Russ lifted a couple crumpled tubes from beneath his seat and the rest of the boys fell in, filling the tubes with air, tying, and tightening the ropes from the tubes to the boat, and readying life jackets and such. Russ offered to let me go first, but I said no. I wasn’t sure I wanted to try tubing at all.
Bit and Logan went first, riding separately on the two tubes and then together on one while Dixie and Shelby rode on the other. Listening to Shelby scream and cuss with laughter as
Cody zigzagged them across the water made me laugh.
Mason sat down beside me and whipped his shirt over his head, easily winning my full attention. “You gonna do it?” he asked me as the boat bobbed to a stop. “I haven’t decided yet,” I said. He grinned crookedly. “You need me to dare you to do it?” His tone made me smile so wide that I almost laughed—until I saw Dixie glaring at me, that is. I already knew: Eat shit.
Later, after everyone else had had several turns, Bit talked me into riding with her while Dixie and Crystal rode together. I strapped on a life jacket, climbed out of the boat, and lay down on the tube’s red and yellow nylon surface next to Bitty.
“Okay, you hold on here,” Bit said, pointing to a handle straight ahead, “and there,” to another on my left side.
Russ drove the boat and had taken it pretty easy, but on the final curve, Dixie and Crystal’s tube bumped into ours. As we skipped across the waves, my hand slipped from the center handle. I was barely hanging on, teetering on the edge when I felt a hard tug at the back of my life jacket. I fell into the water and Dixie and Crystal’s tube ran over me; the rough nylon material burned my skin as it raked across my face.
When I surfaced, trying to catch my breath, Dixie was laughing hysterically. It clicked; she’d pulled me in.
“What the hell, Dixie?” Bit scolded.
“Whattya mean—what the hell, Dixie? How many times have y’all done shit like that to me?” she called back. “Nobody told me we were supposed to handle the rich bitch with kid gloves. If it was anybody else, the rest of you would have been laughing with me!”
Dixie glared at me. “Buck up, rich girl. We do shit different down here. Get use to it or get lost.”
Dixie climbed up the boat’s ladder, threw off her life jacket, and snatched a towel from a nearby seat. Crystal asked if I was okay before following after her. I nodded. I didn’t have any words. Bitty abandoned our tube to examine me. My cheek and forehead were scraped, but I would live. I think what hurt the most was my ego.
Ben held a hand out and helped me off the last rung of the ladder and into the boat. I noticed my knee was cut in the process. There was a little blood, but the cut wasn’t deep.
I wrapped up in my towel and sat down, staring past the bow of the boat. I didn’t want to look at anyone or talk to anyone. What I wanted was to go home—to Malibu.
Without saying, that trip was the last of the day. Mason took the captain’s chair and drove us back to the dock at full speed.
Chapter 5
When we got to the Broussard’s, it was good and dark outside. I slipped out of the truck and went to the back of the house without a word. A dozen flaming Tiki lamps surrounded the perimeter of the back porch. The brash scent of Citronella burned my throat as I walked by. I yanked the screen door open and ran smack into Dana.
“Oh, sweetie, what happened to your face?” she gasped.
“Dixie,” Shelby piped in, sliding past me, before scampering down the hall.
“I fell off of a tube.”
“Dixie pulled her off a tube!” Shelby called from her bedroom. I gave Dana a hard smile, confirming Shelby’s story.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” I lied.
Dana gave me a look that proved she knew better, but wasn’t going to call me out. “We’re gonna boil some crawfish in a bit. Come join us outside if you feel up to it,” she said. I went to Garrett’s room, grabbed my pajamas and toiletries, and went to the bathroom. I got in the shower hoping no one would barge in on me or bang on the door. I needed a minute to breathe.
After using up all the hot water, I pulled myself together and got out of the shower. I found a bottle of peroxide in the medicine cabinet and dabbed a little on my knee. It bubbled on the surface before disappearing inside the cut. I did the same to the scratches on my face. For a moment, I considered covering them with makeup, but decided to leave them untouched for everyone to see, namely Dixie.
Even though I wanted to, I wasn’t going to stay holed up in Garrett’s room all night. I wasn’t going to allow Dixie to think she’d rattled me at all. I was going to take her advice and “buck up.”
I put on an orange and white striped lace shift dress that hit just above my knees and went out to the back porch in my bare feet, ready for whatever.
Russ and Ben were working on building a fire out in the yard. The others were playing cards at the teak table. At least they were talking.
“Cute dress,” Bitty said.
“Thanks,” I smiled.
“Is that a Tommy Hilfiger?” Dixie asked snarkily.
I wanted to laugh. I’d stopped wearing Hilfiger in the sixth grade. “It’s BCBG,” I answered simply.
“You do know that I don’t really give a shit who you’re wearing, right?” Dixie spit.
“Could you come give me a hand, Kat?” Dana asked me. She was standing next to a rolling cart with a butcher-block top near the grill. “Sure,” I said, and broke away from the stare down Dixie and I were having.
Dana hoisted a tall, stainless steel pot onto the edge of the butcher block and began pulling things from it. Lemons, potatoes, onions, corn, and a mix of seasoning containers.
“First, we’re gonna cut up the onions and half the lemons,” Dana said. I took the bag of lemons and cut them in half while she quartered four onions. “Alright, squeeze a little bit of that juice in the pot before tossin’ the lemon halves in.”
Once I’d finished, Dana scooped up the onion quar
ters, banked them over the wall of the pot, and handed me garlic heads to peel and slice widthwise while she measured seasonings, listing off each before landing them in the pot.
“Kosher salt, paprika, garlic, black pepper, white pepper, onion powder, dried thyme, basil, and oregano.”
Dana poured three small bottles of liquid she called “boil” into the pot. “And last, but most definitely not least,” she grinned, “cayenne pepper!” Dana shook the medium-sized container over the pot until it was empty, and dumped in a bag of red potatoes and about two dozen pieces of mini corn on the cob. She filled the pot with water from the hosepipe, and then called out, “That fire ready, boys?”
“Yep, bring it on, Momma,” Russ called back.
Mason and Cody carried the pot to the fire and sat it on a grate with charred brick-o-blocks stacked in the corners below. The raging flames danced beneath the pot, licking the sides, bringing the mixture to a rolling boil almost instantly. Bitty brought out a couple of large bags and sat them on the ground. She untied the tops and dumped the contents into the pot.
Live crawfish.
Russ held a long iron rod in his hand and began pushing the skinny logs away from one another, forcing the fire to simmer down. With the heat lowered, Dana laid the lid on the pot, partially covering the opening, allowing it to breathe.
“You’re in for a real treat, girl,” Russ told me, nodding toward the pot, licking his lips. “We’ve got about an hour before this’ll be ready. Let’s get a drink.” Russ put his arm around me as we walked to the porch. I didn’t mind because it was friendly, not flirty. My friends in California weren’t touchy-feely with each other unless they were dating, so this was different for me, but I kind of liked it. It made me feel included, especially since Dixie had made it clear that I wasn’t welcome.
Someone had turned the radio on a country station and sat out an iced down cooler of canned beer. Cody dug in with both hands.
Two Thousand Miles Page 2
