Bayou Bubba

by Sam Cheever

  Pim nodded. “That’s the stuff.”

  Felonius Chance had walked out of my life eight months earlier, and the only things his current trophy wife and I could figure out he’d taken with him were a bag of gold he’d kept in the safe in his office and three cases of bourbon. “That’s my father’s favorite.”

  “Quality stuff,” Pim nodded. He glanced past me and nodded. “Closing time.” He shoved the basket of coins toward me. “You want a bag for those?”

  I shook my head, grabbing the basket and dumping it into my purse. I nearly groaned as I hefted the bag back onto my shoulder, the strap digging into my bones from the weight. “Thank you.” I offered the big man my hand. He squeezed it lightly as he shook it. “It was a pleasure, Felicity. Come back again.”

  “I will.” The smile I gave him was sincere. I liked Pim Gordon. Like the other residents of Bent, Alabama, he was a character.

  But his was a character I could appreciate.

  4

  It wasn’t until Cal parked the Jeep outside room number nine that I realized I was looking at an entire night alone in a hotel room with the yummy Cal. When he opened the driver’s side door and climbed out, my limbs seized up and I suddenly didn’t think I could get out of the Jeep.

  Cal stuck his head back inside the car, fixing me with a perplexed look. “Are you all right?”

  I looked at him, my cheeks burning. “I…”

  Something in my expression must have given away my fear because Cal’s expression softened. “Do you need to be alone for a while?”

  I swallowed the thickness in my throat and nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

  Cal nodded. “That’s fine. I can go get us a pizza and some beer?”

  Despite my panic, his offer sounded wonderful. “Thanks, Cal.”

  He returned my smile and my stomach jumped a little. There was heat in his blue eyes. For the first time since he and I had met that morning, Cal Amity looked at me like I was someone he might like to get to know better. Instead of someone he could barely stand to be around.

  Unfortunately, that made my sudden terror worse rather than better. I grabbed the door handle and wrenched it open, all but leaping out the door. I was halfway to number nine before Cal called out. I turned to find him holding up the key.

  “Ha. Ha, ha,” I said, impressing him with my searing wit. He threw me the key. I flung my hands awkwardly into the air, like ping-pong paddles facing the wrong way. The key hit the edge of one hand, glanced off, and pinged against the window of number eight.

  “I’ll be back in about forty-five minutes,” Cal told me.

  I bent down to pick up the key, and the door to number eight opened. I turned my head and saw a large pair of slippers, a short pair of black socks, and a long, wide expanse of hairy shin. Cranking my gaze upward, I took in a pair of blue cotton boxers and a yellowed wife-beater, all topped off by a thin, cotton robe that hung open to just below wide, bony knees.

  Mr. Graying Ponytail!

  He wore a necklace of some kind of long, curved ivory-colored beads. I couldn’t help thinking it was a strange accessory for a man his size and temperament.

  Mr. Graying Ponytail glared down at me. “You knocked on my window?” He sounded like he’d been eating ashtrays for a decade.

  I straightened quickly, nearly overcorrecting, and stumbled backward as dizziness swamped me. Holding my forehead, I tried my wit on him. “Ha. Ha, ha. I guess I was bending over for too long.”

  Nothing on his face moved except one bushy brown eyebrow. It eased up in the middle as if somebody had tied a string to it and tugged.

  “Ha. Ha, ha,” I said again, backing toward number nine. “Sorry. It was all a mistake. My keys hit your window.” I held the keys up as if they were proof of what had happened.

  The second eyebrow eased upward.

  I jangled my keys, walking backward. If I tried really hard, I could really annoy him. “I’ll just…” I held his gaze as I fumbled with the key, afraid to look away for fear that would be the moment he’d strike. I dropped the keys twice. “Ha. Ha, ha.”

  He crossed massive arms over his chest, watching me like one watches the clowns at a circus. Look at the buffoons trying to stuff themselves into the silly little car.

  Finally, the key slid home and I turned it, plunging through the door and slamming it shut behind me. I turned all the locks and leaned against the closed door, panting from nerves. It was just my luck that Mr. Scary would be habitating right next to us.

  I listened until I heard Mr. Scary’s door slam and then slouched toward the bathroom. I needed a long, hot shower to ease my nerves and soften my stress-stiffened muscles. Then I would deal with the next problem.

  Surviving the night with the very tempting Cal sleeping in the next bed.

  Cal pulled the Jeep up to the curb in front of Bent’s Eats and we went inside. I stumbled toward the nearest empty booth and slid into it. My vision was blurry from exhaustion. I yawned widely enough to crack my jaw as Cal slid in across from me.

  His lips quirked up at the corners. “I can’t believe you’re still tired. You went to bed at eight.”

  Yes, I had. Because it was either that or trying to make small talk with a man who thought small talk meant using small words in even smaller sentences. I wasn’t going to tell him that I’d lain awake all night listening to him breathe and wondering why he hadn’t tried to kiss me.

  I knew it didn’t make any sense. Earlier, I’d been worrying that he would kiss me. Unfortunately, even I had never been able to explain my own tendency toward schizophrenic sensibilities.

  “Coffee?”

  My head shot up. “Yes! Please,” I all but screamed.

  The woman holding the coffee pot didn’t even blink. The waitress looked like she was used to dealing with crazies. She poured black gold into my cup, and I thanked her before taking a quick sip.

  Cal held his mug up for her to fill. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. You’re new in town, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I’m Cal Amity, and this is Miss Chance.”

  I waited for the usual smirk over our names, but the woman just nodded. “It’s nice ta meet ya.” She set the pot down on the table and pulled out a ticket book. “What can I get y’all to eat?”

  Cal ordered a massive breakfast with eggs, bacon, and sausage, and a side of pancakes. I ordered an English muffin.” The waitress, whose nametag dubbed her Estime, ambled toward the kitchen with our order.

  “She’s very calm,” I observed.

  Cal sipped his coffee. “The sheriff told me to talk to her about Bubba. Apparently, he came into the café on a regular basis.”

  My eyes would have widened in surprise if they weren’t limp from lack of sleep. Remembering Pim’s description of Bubba as filthy and stinky, I said, “That must have been fun for the other customers.”

  Cal shrugged.

  Halfway through my cup of coffee, I realized I’d never told Cal about our neighbor at the motel. “Hey, have you run into the guy in the room next to ours at the Backwater yet?”

  Cal ripped the paper off his straw and dropped it into his water glass. “What guy?”

  I frowned. “The guy in number eight. He’s kind of scary looking. He came out of his room last night while I was trying to get inside.”

  Cal stopped sipping his water and set it down, fixing an intense look on me. “Did he hurt you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Because I was too busy worrying about you jumping my bones and then being disappointed when you didn’t. I shook my head. “He didn’t hurt me. He just stood there in his underwear, looking all judgmental.”

  Cal’s eyebrows lifted.

  “Yeah. Just like that.”

  A few minutes of silence and sipping later, Estime returned with too many plates for one woman to carry. Somehow she managed. Settling plate after plate in front of Cal, she looked at me and frowned. “Oh, that’s what I was forgetting. I’ll be right back.”

  I rolled my ey
es as Cal dove into his food. He tucked a fork full of eggs into his mouth and then realized I didn’t have anything in front of me. “Where’s yours?”

  “She forgot it.”

  He set his fork down.

  “Go ahead, your food will get cold.”

  “I’m not eating until you do. My mama taught me better manners than that.”

  “Really, go ahead.”

  His expression turned to stone, and I knew it reflected his will. A more stubborn man I’d yet to meet. It’d been an asset while searching for my father when everyone else had given up, but it was a titch annoying to deal with on a daily basis.

  Estime finally arrived with my muffin.

  Cal pulled the picture of my father out of his pocket. “I was wondering if you’d ever seen this man around the café?”

  Estime took the picture and nodded. “That’s Bubba. ’Cept he doesn’t look like this anymore.”

  Cal took the photo back from her. “He comes into the café?”

  “Every Sunday, during church services. He likes to get a slice of strawberry cream pie before the church people get here and grab it all up.”

  I couldn’t resist asking. “Pim Gordon says he’s always kind of disheveled.”

  Estime fixed me with a bored look. “He doesn’t wear a suit or anything. His hair’s long and kind of straggly. But he’s usually clean. His clothes aren’t ratty.”

  I nodded, feeling guilty for assuming he’d be dirty just because he was apparently homeless.

  “Does he ever talk about where he lives? Or what he does with his time?” Cal asked.

  The waitress shook her head. “Bubba’s real private and soft-spoken. He doesn’t talk to anybody. He orders his food and sits quietly until I bring it. Then he pays me in cash and leaves.”

  I nodded, but inside my head alarm bells were going off. Felonius Chance was anything but soft-spoken and private. He’d always been a take-charge kind of guy who liked to be the center of attention wherever he went.

  “You didn’t happen to notice which way he goes out of town?”

  Estime cocked her head, looking suspicious. “Why’re you askin’ all these questions about Bubba? He’s not in some kind of trouble, is he?”

  I opened my mouth to assure her that he wasn’t, but Cal ran me over.

  “He might be. We just want to make sure he’s all right.”

  She stared at us for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether we were up to no good, and then said, “He rides his bike South, down toward Alligator Bridge.” Estime started to turn away and stopped. “I don’t know if it means anything, but Bubba didn’t come in last Sunday. I hope he isn’t sick…or somethin’.” She let her gaze skim over us one last time and returned to the kitchen.

  “Bike?”

  Cal dug into his food. “That’s new information for sure. We’ll check out Alligator Bridge tomorrow.”

  “What are we doing today?”

  He swallowed a big bite of pancake, swiping his napkin over his mouth. “We’re going to Stink Island.”

  Shoving all the potty jokes that jumped into my brain aside, I grimaced. Wonderful. I’d always wanted to visit a gator-infested island in the swamp that smelled like bodily waste.

  5

  Turned out, we needed a boat to visit Stink Island, so the resolute Cal and I had driven the few blocks across Bent to rent one. As we climbed in the Jeep, Cal had explained that we needed to talk to the owner, Miles about Bubba anyway. In his words, we could “peg two blue herons with one stone.”

  I skimmed him a glance as we headed for the brick-fronted store. “Well, look at you, all bird watchy and stuff.”

  Cal’s lips turned up in an embarrassed grin. “My dad’s family is from Bama. Dad and Uncle Mike used to bring me down here in the summer to fish in the bayou.”

  My eyes went wide. “So, you’ve been to Bent before?”

  He pulled the wooden screen door open and stepped back to let me precede him into the store. “No, but I’ve been within a dozen miles of this place. These bayous have the best fishin’ in the state of Alabama.”

  I realized with a start that it was the most Cal had ever told me about himself. The new knowledge put gouges in the image of the marble god on a pedestal I’d created for him.

  His marble had become slightly flesh-colored.

  I soon forgot my revelations as I looked around the store. It was filled to burstin’ with stuff. All kinds of stuff. Everything from cans of tuna to sleeveless party dresses. Cal fixed me with a look that glittered with humor. “You okay?”

  My mouth had fallen open as my shopping fixation was engaged. I started down the first aisle like a zombie. I’d spotted a rack filled with purses. “Be right back,” I murmured.

  I vaguely noted the sound of voices as the slightly-less-godlike Cal apparently found Miles.

  I’d unearthed a one of a kind purse, and I was all but oblivious to the rest of the world.

  My heart sang.

  When I approached the checkout counter on the Bayou side of the store a few minutes later, Cal’s ocean-blue gaze locked onto my treasure, narrowing slightly. “What the heck is that?”

  I was undaunted. A man couldn’t be expected to understand the genius of eclectic purse-wear. “It’s a one-of-a-kind, beaded, alligator-shaped purse,” I explained, barely containing my glee.

  And indeed it was. The detail was amazing. The big, bulgy eyes of the critter looked so real I almost expected the gator to snap the grimace right off Cal’s face.

  I handed the bag to the man behind the counter, and he nodded. “These are handmade by a local woman. Her shop is in a cabin on stilts down in the lowlands.

  I gave Cal a smug, see I told you so, look.

  “You mean like Baba Yaga?” Cal asked.

  I glared while Miles chuckled.

  Cal shook his head as I paid for my treasure. “Do you have a map of the bayou that will take us to Stink Island?”

  Miles reached beneath the scarred wooden counter and pulled out a photocopy of a hand-drawn map. “I tried the state maps for a while, but folks just kept getting lost. So I drew one up myself.”

  Cal looked it over and nodded. “This is good. Thanks.” He offered the owner his hand and slid me a look as I claimed my new purse. “You gonna take that on the boat?”

  “I am.” I didn’t want to explain to him that one of the reasons I’d gotten the bag was because it had a wide, soft strap that was long enough to wear across my body. The gold I’d reclaimed from Pim Gordon was so heavy my leather bag was cutting into my shoulder. Plus, it had a zipper so I didn’t have to worry about the gold falling out.

  I didn’t think it was safe to leave the gold in the motel or the car, so I was carrying it around with me. My new bag would make that a lot easier. “Let me just run out to the Jeep and switch my stuff over to the new purse.”

  “So what kinds of stuff does Bubba buy from you?” I heard Cal ask Miles as I stepped out into the bright Alabama sun.

  I glanced quickly around before I opened the door of the car and started transferring the gold. A few people were fishing off a nearby dock. Several yards away, two women stood in the shade created by the roof’s overhang, their backs to me, chatting. And a man disappeared around the corner of the building, heading for the water. I frowned, thinking something about him was familiar. But I hadn’t gotten a good look at him. I shrugged it off and started backing out of the Jeep with my newly stuffed purse.

  “Gettin’ some supplies?”

  I jumped, cracking my head on the door frame, and turned, rubbing the sore spot. The two women I’d noted in the distance were standing a few feet away. I realized who they were.

  “Hi, Irene. Dorrie Tae.”

  “Where’s your handsome shadow?” Irene asked.

  “He’s inside. We’re going to rent a boat and search Stink Island.” I must have grimaced a little because the other women nodded pityingly.

  Dorrie Tae stuck her hands into the pockets of her cut
off jean shorts. The shorts were too short on her thick-kneed legs, and the color brought out the deep blue of the veining crisscrossing her calves. “Make sure you ask Miles for some Mentholatum to put under your noses. It helps drown out the stink.”

  Irene nodded.

  “Yeah.” I grimaced again. “Thanks. I’m really looking forward to this.”

  “Oh, you got one of Lena Borne’s purses!” Irene smiled. “She’s in the BS.”

  I grinned. “Yes! I’m so excited. I love it. Does she do any other animals? I’d like to get my BFF in Indiana one. She’s just gonna die when she sees this.”

  “Don’t like her much, huh?” Dorrie Tae snorted and then looked alarmed. “Did I say that out loud?”

  Irene glared at her friend. “Lena feeds her family with those purses. She’s a genius with beads.”

  Dorrie Tae rolled her eyes.

  “You know that’s a real alligator tooth on the pull,” Irene told me.

  “I didn’t know that…”

  The door opened and Cal stuck his head out. “You ready?” He gave Irene and Dorrie Tae a brisk wave.

  I slipped the strap of my new bag over my head and closed the door of the Jeep. “I’ll see you two later.”

  “If you want, I’ll take you out to Lena’s place tomorrow,” Irene said.

  I turned, walking backward toward the store. “I’d love that!” My heel hit the bottom step and I fell, slamming into the second step with my butt. My new bag hit the wood next to my hip with a thud.

  “You got bricks in that thing?” Dorrie Tae asked.

  “Ha. Ha, ha.” I shoved to my feet before Cal spotted me and hurried up the steps, intending to tell him we needed Mentho-something for the stench.

  I was hoping it would help me enjoy the trip up the Bayou, if not our stint on the poo- scented island.

  I lay back against the wood platform at the front of the low-slung metal boat, trailing my fingers through the water and soaking up the sun.

  Cal didn’t speak for several minutes, his thoughts seemingly focused on guiding the boat down the narrow, winding waterway.