Chapter Twenty

Remy skipped lunch in case he had to endure another Broussard Burger challenge. Though the setup in the Barn stayed the same with Old Broussard at the head of a table surrounded by his minions, no smell of fried onions or french fry grease filled the air, and no food appeared. NuNu only poured coffee from the big granitewear pot. Remy accepted his cup, but failed to offer so much as a thanks. Thanks for what? Trying to burn down the Queen and putting a bigger rift between him and Julia?

The old man missed nothing with those piggy eyes sunk in the flesh of his face. He called the meeting to order by saying, “First, NuNu got somet’ing to say to Remy.”

NuNu kept his watery, bloodshot blue eyes on the floor as he balanced the coffeepot on the edge of the table. “I guess I jumped the gun trying to burn down the Queen. Just thought I’d help things along since it seems like the Italian bitch is leading you around by your dick. Never thought you two would be out there naked in the bayou.” His wisecrack earned a few snickers

Some apology. “Julia saw you, and so did I because you didn’t have the sense to run instead of watching. I lied to keep you out of jail, NuNu. Claimed the man who started the fire looked like her intern, but the sheriff knew better. I should have saved myself the trouble since your coworkers covered for you.”

“Damn right dey did if dey wants to keep dose jobs,” Old Broussard interrupted.

“Next time, don’t do me any favors, NuNu. Lots of saleable salvage might have been destroyed. Another thing—if you ever speak of Ms. Rossi in those terms again, I’ll come next door and use you for karate practice.”

“Pussy whipped,” NuNu muttered.

Remy pushed back his chair. “You want to start now?”

Old Broussard held up his pudgy hands where a wedding ring dug deep into the skin. “Enough. Bot’ of you had your say. Se donner la main.”

Reluctantly, Remy shook his distant cousin’s hand and dropped it as if it were a hot baked potato. “Don’t try to help me again. Julia and her people are watching the place around the clock. Next time, there will be more witnesses.”

“You go now, NuNu. We got business here don’t concern you, no.”

As NuNu slinked away, Remy handed the old man and Slick copies of the proposals made by Jonathan Hartz. They were the only folks around the table who counted. Their heads began to shake almost immediately. He doubted if they read a single word.

“Everything he offers is a great deal. If he buys me out, I’ll give you half the profit. We build Black Diamonds later. If I go into business with him to restore the Queen, your investment will be placed in a special account kept separate to fund Black Diamonds when an alternative location is found. It’s win-win.”

“You t’ink we got you da land cheap so you could blow us off and go into business wit’ dat etranger rich man, heh?” Old Broussard’s chins shook in multiple-layered anger.

Still, Remy pushed him. “I didn’t ask for your help in buying the Queen. I could have managed that on my own.”

Slick made his only comment. “Ha! Good one.”

Ignoring the insult, Remy continued. “None of this means Black Diamonds won’t be built. In fact, you could invest in the Queen too, and sell out when she’s up and running for a nice profit if it’s about the money lying idle. You have to realize with the property under a no demolition injunction, we might not be able to proceed with our original plans for years.”

“Not about pousse-pousse.” Old Broussard rubbed two fingers together as if he held a wad of money. “Dis is about family. Who you loyal to, Remy, who?”

“The Broussards of course.” Though in his heart of hearts, the place where Julia claimed he wanted to restore the Queen, he wondered if that were true. He hadn’t been raised here. His parents resented sending him to spend his summers in Chapelle with the demanding Patty, not to mention setting up his business here lured by a free bit of land and support for his project. They’d warned him.

“You tell Mr. Bi-yon-aire no deal. Den get your daddy or granddaddy to fight dat order.”

Since his father fled to Mandeville years ago to avoid doing the family’s legal business and escape Patty, Remy doubted he’d get involved now. His grandfather might come out of semi-retirement to fight the preservationists. He’d always been about progress, but touted Jonathan Hartz as among his best friends. Doubtful if Hartz thought the same. In the end, Guidry Broussard owed his political success to his cruder relatives and a pushy wife. Yeah, he’d fight the injunction free of charge even if it aggravated his grandmother.

Remy picked up his papers. “I’ll tell Hartz what you had to say.”

“You do dat. Don’t let us down, you.” Old Broussard enveloped Remy’s hand in his fleshy grip for a shake surprisingly strong and bone-crunching as he made his point.

Remy didn’t wince or rub his fingers afterward. Show no fear was always good advice when dealing with dangerous animals. He nodded goodbye to everyone else at the table and NuNu listening at the entrance to the kitchen. His anger rose as he drove away from the Barn. He could have bought the Queen without help in a fair auction. The deals Hartz offered were excellent for everyone. Why couldn’t one hog-headed old man see that?

He’d sleep on it—without Julia in his bed. She’d never be there again if he sided with his relatives against all reason.

In the morning with a clear head, Remy Broussard vowed make his decision for better or worse, richer or poorer, and whatever came next with Julia and the Queen.