Chapter Twenty-Four

Always an early riser, a must in her profession where they often tried to beat the heat of the day, Julia tugged her T-shirt over her head at dawn and padded down to the kitchen. Scrambled eggs she figured would be best. Maybe some toast cut into strips and well-buttered. She started coffee, beat the eggs, and rejoiced to find a wedge of parmesan in the fridge and dried chives in spice rack to give the bland breakfast more flavor. Orange juice, probably not a good idea with his sore lip, but she poured some for herself while the coffee brewed and the eggs jelled in the pan. Finding a tray stored sideways in a nook of the kitchen, she loaded the breakfast for two and climbed to the bedroom. No Remy in the bed either awake or asleep.

He’d made his way to the bathroom. As he claimed, his legs worked, all of them. Julia tapped lightly on the door. “You okay in there?”

“Fine. No blood in my urine. That’s good news.”

“I made breakfast. You get to eat in bed today.”

“Sounds good.” He emerged stark naked and moved toward the covers. Though his legs and taut, slim buttocks showed no damage from the rear, he held himself stiffly trying not to aggravate his ribs. Working his way under the spread again, he held out his hand for the plate.

Julia hung onto it. In the light of day, he did look worse. The handsome Remy she’d come to love—no, too soon, make that like very much—might never be the same again. Still, the man on the inside counted more, confident and vital and willing to take a chance on saving the Queen. That’s what mattered. “Better take a couple of these pain pills with your food. Want me to make an ice pack?”

“Maybe later on the ice. Only one pill. They make me loopy.”

“Yes, I noticed.”

“Do you plan to feed me? I think I can manage with my left hand.”

Julia handed over the food. He spilled some of the eggs on the spread, managed the toast strips fairly well, and held out his hand for the coffee mug as desired, drinking the brew with careful sips. Julia finished her plate and loaded the tray for the return to the kitchen.

“I really should leave, but I’ll call you today and see if you need anything. Stay in bed and rest. Anything else I can do for you before I take off?”

“A sponge bath? I’d really like a sponge bath.”

“Considering how well you ate breakfast, I think you can manage with one hand.”

“Lots of places I can’t reach. Don’t go.”

While she suspected he really wanted more physical contact, his request still tugged at her heart as she gazed on his poor, battered face. “Okay, I’ll wash your back. Let’s go over to the sink, and I’ll fill it.”

Julia put one of his thick, black towels on the floor and ran warm water in the basin. Retrieving his bath gel from the shower, she squeezed some on a washcloth, and gave it slight sniff, pure Remy, a clean, sharp scent with a spicy tang. He faced the mirror as she washed above and below his bandaged ribs, under his arms, across his rear and down his legs. He lifted his feet like an obedient horse, allowing her to clean between his toes. When she came up, he made a special request. “Clean behind my balls, would you? Gets musty back there.”

Julia reached between his legs and did a thorough job, massaging each one in her hands. A glance in the mirror told her Remy had another part eager to be washed, stroked, coddled. Pressed against his rear, she reached around and wrapped the cloth over his member, worked it up and down, up and down, until the head reared back, and spread its semen on his belly. “That’s what you really wanted, right?”

“Oh, yes.”

“The pain pill kick in yet?”

“Not quite, but my mind isn’t on pain anymore, thanks to you.” He turned and took the cloth to clean himself. After he tossed it into the sink, he gave Julia the lightest of kisses. “I wish I could do better than that. You deserve more.”

“Damn right, I do. Can I borrow one of your shirts? I can’t return to Alleman looking like I won the wet T-shirt contest on spring break.”

“You’d get my vote. Help yourself to anything I have.”

“Get back into bed. Sleep, play games on your phone, whatever, but rest today.”

She put on her rumpled jeans and sneakers, found a T-shirt advertising Broussard’s Barn, and hung the one she’d worn to dry on his balcony railing. “I’ll return after work, make sure you get fed, and are taking it easy.”

“Don’t go,” he said again.

The incessant wasp-like buzzing of someone desiring entrance to the Black Box interrupted anything else he might have said to persuade her to stay. “Get that for me, would you?”

Julia trotted down the stairs and spoke into the box with a mock-serious inquiry. “Who goes there? Mr. Broussard is too ill for company today.” Her formal voice did not fool the person on the other end.

“Exactly why I’m here, Julia Rossi. I received a call this morning from T-Fats that Remy had been in an accident and might need my help. Let me in at once.”

“T-Fats? Who is that?” He’d mentioned Slick and NuNu, but no T-Fats.

“My disreputable brother-in-law, his nickname before he turned into Old Broussard. He might be old, but I am not. I demand entrance.”

“Right away, Miss Patty. I’ll leave the door unlocked.” Julia charged up the stairs to warn Remy he had an anxious granny on the way. She broke the news immediately.

He leaned deep into his pillows as if trying to disappear. “They really do hate me. Quick—briefs, running shorts, any top with no sleeves in the bureau drawers. Easiest stuff to get on. I can’t cope with her if I’m naked.”

“Hey, you didn’t dress up for me!”

“No desire to sleep with my granny. Help me get them on right now.”

He might have been able to manage his underwear and shorts one-handed, but the top was more of a struggle involving the removal of his arm from the sling, an easing into the armhole, and the restoration of his arm support. The top covered his bandages, but not all of his bruises.

Meanwhile, Remy seemed to keep an ear cocked for the slam of a car door and the relentless tread of his grandmother on the way up the stairs, closer, closer, closer. His forehead beaded with sweat. He sank into a side chair, and held out his feet for his running shoes right before the champagne-blonde head and chubby body overfilled the doorway.

Patty breathed heavily from her climb like a dragon working up steam to shoot blasts of fire. Julia hadn’t seen Remy’s grandmother other than fully dressed and completely made up. Even chained to an oak tree, the woman had squatted on a cushion so as not to dirty her short-sleeved pantsuit, every hair in place, and full-face putty troweled on her aging skin. Though she certainly slept with a hairnet to preserve her coiffure between weekly salon visits, this morning many of her lacquered curls had escaped around her head, standing up like spiral macaroni. She’d failed to prime her face with foundation, or brighten it with blusher and appeared very pasty. One button on today’s yellow pantsuit had missed its hole and gaped open over a plain white cotton bra. Inexplicably, Patty held a covered saucepan in her grip.

Crossing the bedroom, she raised the lid and shoved the pot under Remy’s nose. “Cheese grits, your favorite. I was making them for Gid’s breakfast, but he can scrounge for himself today. As soon as T-Fats called, I took them off the stove and came right over here, my baby, my poor, poor baby. In a minute, I’ll go downstairs and fry an egg to go with them. You can break the yolk and mix it around in the grits just like you did as a boy.”

Julia thought Remy’s face registered more pain than she’d seen up to this second. “Maybe for lunch. I don’t have much appetite. Julia made scrambled eggs for breakfast, so I’ve eaten. You don’t have to stay,” he said.

Funny, he’d had plenty of appetite for more than food not too long ago. Patty set the pot on the little table nearest Remy with a loud clunk. She might have been ready to breathe fire before, but now her eyes shot laser beams at Julia.

“I should have been called first, day or night, to take care of you. What exactly is she doing here?”

“I asked Jules to sit with me since she’s staying nearby. You need your beauty rest as you often told me when I visited. In other words, help yourself to a bowl of cereal and don’t wake me. I’m still following your orders.”

“This is entirely different. I mean I understand why you didn’t call your mother. I doubt Melody would drive up here in the middle of the night. She’d have to cancel all those house showings for her real estate business.” Patty moved in close and pinched Remy’s jaw to force his mouth open. He gasped at her ungentle touch. “Good, all still there. Remember I paid for those perfect teeth.”

Remy rubbed his chin. “How could I forget.”

“Well then, I’ll take the breakfast dishes downstairs, wash them, and get to work. Time to go.” Julia picked up the tray. “I can see you are in good hands. No need to linger.”

“Just leave the plates. I’ll take care of them. I am sure you are needed at your blue-collar job.” Patty bustled over to take charge and seize the tray. Behind his grandmother’s back, Remy made a desperate “call me” sign to Julia. If he’d been able to show the panicked whites of his eyes, he would have.

“Gran, Julia has two college degrees and owns that business.”

“I’m sure she understands what I mean. Don’t you, Julia?”

Yep, get away from her grandson, the one she’d tried to sell her on when they’d first met at the bakery. The one Julia thought might be gay. So wrong about that!

Julia sent Remy a final sympathetic smile. “Get well soon.” She added a finger wave and headed for the steps.

Miss Patty’s loud assessment followed her down the stairwell. “You don’t need that Italian sexpot when your gran is here to help you. She doesn’t have the decency to wear a bra, and don’t think I didn’t notice. All that bouncy jiggle when she walks. Don’t even think about going running. What was she doing letting you dress like that? Let me help you into a nice pair of pajamas. You must stay in bed.”

Poor Remy, her lover, her rival, now her business partner, and who knew what else?