Adam drove Simone’s car out to the trailer park the following morning, with Maisie perched on the seat next to him, chattering away, as usual. The party, her friend’s new bicycle, which was pink, how to make a Dutch braid, which was an inverted French braid for those not in-the-know, where to buy the prettiest hair ties. Anything and everything was a subject for her incessant talking, especially when she had a captive audience in a moving vehicle.
His dad was following in Adam’s Lexus.
Actually, Adam didn’t mind Maisie’s chatter. He loved his daughter, energizer tongue and all.
He’d gotten a brief look at the fire site when he’d picked up Simone’s vehicle, which had been parked on the street, and, in his not-so-professional opinion, the buildings were a total loss.
The area was cordoned off with yellow-and-black barricade tape, where several people stood just staring at the mess. He doubted Simone would be able to salvage much.
It would be a busy day for her today, and he hoped she would let him help. Knowing her, and the unresolved problems they had between them, he doubted she’d accept any of his offers. But he intended to try.
To his dismay, he saw a lavender convertible parked out front rather lopsidedly, half on the gravel driveway, half on the small lawn, almost knocking out St. Jude and the gnome. He knew what that meant. Tante Lulu was on the premises. Already!
Voices could be heard out back, so he and Maisie and his dad circled around the path leading to an awning-topped patio, surrounded by the promised gnome collection that Simone had alluded to. Maisie went about ballistic with delight, and Addie, who gave him a glower of unwelcome because he was a Cajun man (Like I can help that!), soon went about introducing his daughter to the dwarf clan, each of whom had names. Cajun names. Alcide, Jolie, Sugah Bee, Hector, Tee-Bob, Claudine. His daughter was practically jumping up and down with excitement. He could almost guarantee that gnomes would be added to her birthday wish list.
Tante Lulu, sitting at a picnic table, gave him a little wave as she continued what appeared to be an explanation of St. Jude to the stunned-looking Thanh trapped on the opposite bench. Tante Lulu had that effect on people.
Today she had normal gray hair framing her wrinkled face like a helmet, but she wore the tiniest pair of blue jeans he’d ever seen on an adult with white sneakers and pompom anklet socks. (Fathers of little girls knew about pompom socks and skinny jeans and ballet slippers and the like.) On top, her shirt proclaimed, “Cajun Princess,” and there was a picture of a girl riding a gator like a cowgirl. Maisie would probably be asking for one of those, too.
It appeared she was talking to Thanh about her miscreant husband when explaining the patron saint of hopeless cases because she made this remark: “Some men are as useless as pogo sticks in quicksand.”
Typical Tante Lulu.
His father was checking out a few tomato and green pepper plants that Addie had planted at the back border of her small property. Mixed in between were onions.
While everyone was occupied, Adam slipped in the back door to the trailer. He needed to talk to Simone, alone.
He found her in the bathroom brushing her teeth. She must have just showered because her hair was wet and her face scrubbed clean. She wore a tight police academy T-shirt and a pair of jeans and sneakers that must have been left here at her mother’s place when she’d been a high school or college student. The shoes had once been black and were now washed to a dull gray. The denim hugged her legs and cupped her bottom like . . . like he would like to.
The cat was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, licking itself before spotting him. It gave him a “Not you again!” look, then jumped down and sauntered past him, probably putting a pound of cat hair on his black suit pants. He was dressed for the office.
That’s when Simone noticed him leaning against the hallway wall, facing the open door of the bathroom, which had to be the size of a broom closet. She rinsed her mouth, spat in the sink, then dabbed at her mouth with a towel. “What?” she said as he continued to stare at her.
“Just admiring the view.”
“Yeah, right. I look like someone who’s been to hell and back.”
“At least you’re back.”
“I assume you brought my car.”
“I did. My dad followed me. He and Maisie are out back admiring the gnomes.”
“Thanks for bringing the car. I didn’t want to ask my mother for a lift,” she said. Then, “You brought your daughter here?”
Why that should surprise her so much was a puzzle, until he recalled his old code of not mixing his women with his family, a code she’d been aware of. A code which was shot to hell since he’d met Simone.
“Yep. She’ll probably think trailer parks are the epitome of cool after this.”
“How bad is it?” Simone asked.
He knew she wasn’t talking about trailer parks, but the fire remains, which he had to have seen when picking up her car. “Bad.”
Her shoulders sagged, but then she straightened as if bracing herself. “I’m meeting Helene for breakfast. Then, we have an appointment with the fire marshal at eleven, and the insurance agent at noon.”
“Already?”
“We have to start someplace.”
“I could help with the insurance and stuff.”
“I can do it. I know I had a meltdown last night, but I’m strong. I’ll get through this.”
“Atta girl!” he said, but what he thought was, You have toothpaste at the corner of your mouth. Can I kiss it off?
She set the towel aside. “Okay, spill. What has that worried look in your eyes? I can tell something’s wrong.”
I have telltale eyes? Man, that is not good for a lawyer. Maybe Simone can help me improve my body language, or my body, or . . . uh-oh, she’s glaring at me. “I want you to move into my house.”
“Why?”
“Protection.”
“You need me to protect you?”
“Very funny, smart-ass,” he remarked and moved into the tiny confines of the bathroom, closing the door behind him, which forced Simone to be up close and personal.
“Now, Adam, my mother’s outside. And Tante Lulu!” She tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. “If you keep this up, my mother will be calling the police, and Tante Lulu will be calling the priest.”
“I don’t care,” he said, and tugged her even closer. At first, he just hugged her, caressing her back. It was probably some adrenaline rush, posttraumatic reaction, but he felt the need to assure himself Simone was alive.
“This is insane,” she said, even as she arched her body into his.
“How do you feel about PTSF?”
“Huh? Don’t you mean PTSD?
“Nope. Posttraumatic stress fucking.”
“Where?” She laughed, craning her neck back to scan the room. “The shower?”
“Works for me.”
“With our clothes on?”
“Works for me.”
“Simone?” she heard her mother call from somewhere inside the trailer. “Are you still in the bathroom? You got any idea where that Cajun lawyer got to? He’s up ta no good, I know he is. He has that Cajun twinkle in his eyes, and I don’t like the looks of his behind. I already told you that.”
“My behind?” he whispered.
Simone put her fingertip to his lips so he wouldn’t give them away.
He nipped at her fingertip.
When they heard Addie go back outside, Adam opened the door and led Simone into the living room. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “About shower sex?”
He smiled. “No. About the cause of the fire.”
She went suddenly alert and must have noticed the grim expression on his face.
“And why I want . . . need you to stay at my house . . . or in some safe house.”
“Arson?” she guessed.
He nodded. “Originating in the Legal Belles offices.”
She gasped. “Pitot?”
“I wouldn’t think so. It’s not his style.”
“How about Mike Pham?”
He shrugged. “He’s angry enough, but I’m not sure he’s connected the dots yet between his wife, Helene as her divorce lawyer, and Legal Belles.”
She thought over what he’d said, then asked, “How did you find out about the arson?”
“John LeDeux gave me the heads-up this morning as I was driving over.”
“Why wouldn’t John give me the heads-up? He’s my half brother.”
“I guess he knew how you’d react and wanted me to convince you that going into hiding might be the best route until the police investigate more.”
“I am not going into hiding, and I am not moving into your house. Unless this is a proposal of marriage.”
She was deliberately taunting him, he knew that, but still his face heated with embarrassment.
“I didn’t think so,” she said. “You should see the look on your face, Adam. Relax, I’m not trying to rope you into some kind of commitment, and, with my record, certainly not marriage.”
“Don’t presume to know what I’m thinking. I’m here, aren’t I? And I brought my daughter with me.”
“Pfff! Your dad’s probably got a rifle in the car, and you’re probably packing heat under that suit jacket.” When he didn’t deny her accusation, she exclaimed, “Unbelievable! I do not need your protection.”
“What do you need from me, Simone?”
“If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.”
He was heading back home a short time later with his father riding shotgun and his daughter in the backseat. He would drop them off and go into the office.
Suddenly, Maisie announced, “I have a secret.”
“Oh?”
“Wanna know what it is?”
“It wouldn’t be a secret if you told, would it?”
“It’s not that kind of secret.”
“What is it then?”
“I’m gonna get a mommy.”
“Whaat?” He swerved and almost hit a guard rail.
His father chuckled and slapped his knee.
“Kind of hard for you to get a mother without me getting a wife, isn’t it?”
“He’s a rocket scientist,” his father murmured sarcastically. He was in a grumbly mood because Adam hadn’t stayed longer so that he could help Adelaide Daigle tie up her tomato plants. His old man had developed a thing for Simone’s mother.
“Yer silly, Daddy. ’Course ya need a wife.”
“From the mouths of babes,” his father said. More sarcasm.
He decided to ignore the wife part and his father’s snarkiness. “Since when do we need a woman in the house? PawPaw is a great cook, we have a cleaning lady, and I go to work every day to pay for it.”
“Thass not all girls do.”
I know.
His father was shaking with silent laughter.
“What brought this on today, sweetie?”
She held out the little palm-size, plastic statue she’d been given. Everyone up and down the bayou had one of those by now. “Tante Lulu sez I should pray ta St. Jude if I want somethin’ bad enough.”
He should have known the bayou busybody had a hand in this.
“And why would you be telling Tante Lulu that you want a mother? You hardly know her.”
“She guessed.”
A likely story. “Do you have anyone in particular in mind?” he asked, knowing that his daughter might very well say Tante Lulu or the lady at the pet store or the girl who sometimes came to clean the pool.
Instead, she gave him a sly look and said, “Thass the secret.”
Fireworks were the last thing she needed today . . .
By the Fourth of July, Legal Belles was open for business again. Sort of. A temporary office space had been rented in a strip mall near one of the Starr Foods supermarkets. A bit out of the way, but perhaps a downtown location wasn’t necessary for the type of clientele they attracted.
Even though it was a legal holiday, Simone was going over to organize files and fill out more of the endless insurance papers. She was not going to the Lanier pool party. Not after the way Adam had been pestering her the past three days.
Her mother had been invited to the party by Adam’s father, but she’d decided not to go, either, especially with Thanh Pham still being her guest. A cousin of Thanh’s in Texas had invited her to come visit indefinitely, and Thanh’s sister, Kimly, was going to drive her there this weekend. Mike Pham was still looking for his wife, but no overt threats had been made lately.
Simone’s mother had become close with the Vietnamese woman and wanted to spend as much of the remaining time with her, which was no problem since she no longer had a receptionist job. No room in the temporary Legal Belles premises.
The arson case remained unsolved. Police were investigating Marcus Pitot and Mike Pham as persons of interest, but nothing more. Simone was doing her own investigation, as well, which was the spark that had set off the latest arguments with Adam. He still couldn’t accept her dangerous occupation and cited the fire as further proof of his assertions.
Her last words to him, yesterday, were, “It’s over. You and I are incompatible. Stop coming around.”
His response had been the usual, “It’s not over. We are not incompatible, just not on the same page, yet. And I can’t stop. Dammit!”
“That dammit is so telling,” Simone had said.
“What does that mean?”
“You do not want to care for me, dammit. I’m like a rash you hate but yearn to scratch, dammit.”
He’d just grinned, as if scratch were another name for something else.
“At least come to the party, dammit,” he’d coaxed. “Maisie will be so disappointed if you don’t come.”
“Aren’t you worried about me exposing Maisie to my danger?”
“I’ll be there to protect both of you. And my dad was a cop. And there will be plenty of other people there to make the party secure.”
“Maisie won’t notice my absence with the crowd. And I know what you’re thinking. Me, a bikini, your smoldering eyes, the cool water of the pool, wet bikini, a little afternoon delight when no one’s looking.”
He’d blinked at her several times. “You took the words right out of my mouth,” he’d lied.
Simone wasn’t taking a chance.
When all else fails, bring in the big guns . . .
By two in the afternoon, half of the guests had arrived, the grill was sizzling, masses of food appeared, beer and pink punch flowed, water splashed, and the band was setting up. By then, Adam accepted that Simone was not coming.
No, accepted was the wrong word. He was royally pissed and not about to accept her stubbornness. He went into the house to get his Harley keys when the doorbell rang. Who would ring the bell when a party was going on? He stomped to the door, opened it, and just gawked, before bursting into a laugh. “Holy friggin’ hell! Look what the wind blew in!”
“I heard you were having a party.”
It was his brother, Dave, in full military gear, sporting enough stripes and medals and insignia to impress General Patton, if he were still around. He must have caught the attention of every female in every airport between Bagram and New Orleans.
Dave grinned as he dropped his duffel bag and yanked Adam into a huge bear hug. It was hard to tell who held on tighter. Although they didn’t talk about it, Adam and his father worried all the time about Dave, knowing he could be smack dab in the middle of any danger spot in the world. Sometimes they didn’t hear from him for months.
Can that be another reason why I’m such a stickler about danger?
Just then, there was a loud squeal followed by, “Uncle Dave, Uncle Dave!” Maisie flew across the room into Dave’s arms, and he swung her around. “How’s my Maisie Daisie doing? Didn’t you know I would come for your birthday?”
“My birthday’s not today.”
“Oh, so it’s a welcome home party for me.”
His father stepped up then, and if Adam were a weeping man, now would be the time to do it. His father just stared at Dave, and Dave just stared back for a long telling moment before they hugged, too.
If that weren’t enough drama, who should walk in then but Sonia, all hot red flaming hair, wearing a hot red bikini with a sheer cover-up and high-heeled wedge-type shoes that would do a hooker proud.
Dave’s eyes about bugged out.
But then Sonia’s did, too.
After the introductions, Dave prepared to follow Sonia and the others out to join the party. Before he stepped away, Dave asked, “Is she yours?”
Adam shook his head.
“Happy birthday to me,” Dave said then with a wink.
Adam picked up his bike keys again and almost made it out the door before he was accosted by this apparition that had to be either Betsy Ross or Martha Washington or a little person in an old-fashioned flag gown with a bathing mobcap. It was Tante Lulu, of course.
“Boy, yer gettin’ on mah last nerve,” she said right off.
“Why? What did I do?”
She tossed her arms in the air with disgust. “Thass the problem. Ya haven’t done nothin’.” Under her breath, she added, “If brains were dynamite, he wouldn’t have enough ta blow his nose. Lawyers!”
He didn’t need to ask what she meant. “I’m going to get her now.”
“And what’re ya gonna do that’s any different than the nothin’ ya been doin’ so far?”
Really, this busybody went too far some times. “This is between me and Simone.”
“Oh? How’s that workin’ for ya?”
He clenched his fists. “What would you suggest, exactly?”
“It all depends on yer intentions.”
“Oh, good Lord! This isn’t the fifties. There are other things besides marriage.”
“Not here in the bayou. Not if yer wantin’ St. Jude’s help.”
He rolled his eyes.
“This ain’t Cal-a-forny, and you ain’t no hippie dippie free love kinda guy.”
He sighed, wondering if he could leapfrog over her and escape. “Simone isn’t any more interested in marriage than I am.”
“Then, how come yer both so miserable?”
“She’s miserable?” he asked and couldn’t help but smile with a glimmer of hope.
“Let me ask ya one thing. Do ya love that gal?”
“Yes,” he said, and was surprised that he hadn’t even hesitated.
“And what did she say when ya tol’ her that?”
“Um.”
The old lady made a clucking sound of disgust and shoved him aside as she went out the front door, which was still open.
“Where are you going?” She was so old she might have got her directions wrong, and thought the pool was that way.
“Outside ta pray ta yer St. Jude statue I brought for yer front yard. You need all the help you can get.”
He used a little Cajun persuasion . . .
“Whoo-ee, baby! You could wave that flag over my bed anytime,” BaRa said, staring out the plate glass window of the temporary Legal Belles agency.
“What?” Simone asked, glancing up from the file on her desk.
BaRa had come in to help her this morning but was about to go off to a July Fourth family barbecue with her twin sons.
Then Simone noticed the target of BaRa’s appreciation.
It was Adam wearing a pair of flashy flag bathing trunks with a white tank top and flip flogs. He had driven in on his motorcycle and he gave the engine an extra rev, as if in anger, or to get her attention.
Honestly, the man never gave up.
And, honestly, a small part of her was thankful for that.
“Hi, Adam,” BaRa said as she passed him by.
Adam nodded at her, but as BaRa went out and he walked in, he only had eyes for Simone.
“Lock up shop. You’re coming to the party.”
“No, I’m not. I already told you—”
“Here’s the deal, darlin’. And, yes, I said darlin’. Live with it. Tante Lulu and her LeDeux gang have been making rumbling noises all day about some kind of half-assed Cajun Village People patriotic act where they do this sexy dance routine to woo a woman, or man. Sort of like Magic Mike on the bayou.”
“I’ve seen their dance revue. It’s outrageous, and totally embarrassing to the person they’re targeting.” She paused and felt her face heat up. “Me? They wouldn’t!”
“They would. Imagine Abe Lincoln, George Washington, Lady Liberty, Betsy Ross, whom I’m pretty sure is Tante Lulu, Uncle Sam, Ben Franklin, a Star-Spangled Rockette, Yankee Doodle, Captain America, and a whole slew of military men and women strutting their stuff and taking it all off. All for the sake of true love.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re making that up.”
“I wish!”
“What would you be in this musical menagerie?”
“I have no idea, but my brother, Dave, just got home. I wouldn’t be surprised if they commandeer his captain’s uniform.”
“Well, good luck with all that. I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this, but . . .” She shrugged. It wasn’t her problem.
“Have I mentioned that if I don’t bring you back, they’ll probably all come here to serenade you out in the parking lot? There’ll be an even bigger audience. The news media will show up. Great publicity for Legal Belles, though, I suppose.” He batted his eyelashes at her.
She wasn’t sure if he was serious or not.
But she wasn’t taking any chances.
“Do you promise that there won’t be any serenading crap if I go back there?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Just for an hour, and then I’m outta there.”
“Sure.”
Had she just been conned or what?
She knew that she’d been conned when he put her behind him on the Harley with her legs spread and her knees raised, hugging his hips. Then he proceeded to take every rough, vibrating road in Terrebonne Parish. She had to grab him around the waist to keep from falling off. By the time they got to his house, her lady parts had been jiggled to attention.
She hit him when she got off the bike, especially when he grinned at her, knowing what he’d done, and took her hand. That’s when she heard, coming from the back of the house, reverberating around the neighborhood, the Swamp Rats belting out “Louisiana Man.”
Yep, she thought. My theme song. Except that teenager-ish Britney Spears song “Oops! . . . I Did It Again” would be an even more appropriate signature line for her. And Simone was no teenager.
Still, it was a fact: Her Cajun Crazy was in full-tilt boogie mode.
Love is a Cajun kind of thing . . .
Adam was happy . . . happier than he’d been for a long, long time. It was the warm, heart-expanding kind of joy seeping out from within, radiating outward, that rarely comes in anyone’s lifetime. A time to be cherished, and protected so that it would last, which it couldn’t possibly do, being like a bubble or a wisp of dandelion fluff on the wind.
Corny, I know.
Now would be a good time for some reunion sex, if he could find a bedroom, or even a closet, where he could be alone with Simone. Hmm. That sounds like a song title, “Alone with Simone.” He grinned, not at all alarmed at his loopiness, not even when Simone elbowed him and hissed, “Stop smirking,” while trying to tug her hand free.
“I’m not smirking,” he said, refusing to release her hand. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight today, not till they resolved their differences, or had reunion sex, or both. Meanwhile, he pretended to leer at her body in the spare bathing suit she’d borrowed from Charmaine. It was white, one-piece, and fit like a glove, low between the breasts, high on the sides. He couldn’t wait to see it wet. “And stop trying to get away from me. The only way I’m releasing you today is if you let me watch your ass while you walk away. In fact, can I take a video with my cell phone? Up, down, up, down.”
She stopped tugging.
He knew she was sensitive about her butt, with no cause. She was built like what his dad used to call “a brick shithouse.” Not that he would mention that to her.
“Behave yourself. People are staring at us,” she said.
He yanked her closer and kissed her shoulder, which was sun-baked and silky smooth and smelled like coconut oil. “They are not. They’re having too much fun.” And they were. “It’s a great party, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she admitted and relaxed beside him on the cushioned glider one of the neighbors had brought over to provide extra seating. He had plans for this glider, later.
There had to be at least seventy people of all ages, including a half dozen of Maisie’s friends, standing about talking, dancing, sitting, and swimming as the Swamp Rats played one traditional Cajun song after another. “Jolie Blon.” “Big Mamou.” “Jambalaya.” “Sugar Bee.” “Diggy Diggy Lo.” The band members all wore beachy kinds of shorts and T-shirts (including his favorite Bite Me Bayou Bait Company ones) and flip-flops, more in the line of Jimmy Buffett than Doug Kershaw, even René with the washboard-type instrument hanging over his shoulders onto his chest.
“Wanna dance?” he asked Simone.
“Not a chance. Not in my bare feet.”
“We could dance on the grass.”
“You would use dancing as an excuse to make out.”
He grinned.
“Stop grinning.”
He grinned some more.
She just shook her head at him.
“How about some food?”
“If I eat another bite, I’ll pop out of this suit.”
“I can hope!”
“You’re going to have enough leftovers to last a week.”
She was right. Extra tables had to be brought in to accommodate all the food under a rented tent, not just that which his dad had made or ordered, or that which Tante Lulu had carted in, but many of the guests brought food or wine, as well, for their party contributions.
He loved the sense of community here in the bayou. And family. The LeDeuxs had taken him in like an adopted son, under the wide wings of the Big Mama herself, Tante Lulu. Every one of the nephews and nieces were here with their spouses: Luc and Sylvie, Remy and Rachel, René and Valerie, John and Celine, Daniel and Samantha, and a dozen or more of their children, including baseball great Andy LeDeux. The only one missing was Aaron LeDeux, Daniel’s twin, who was out of town on some mysterious mission.
And family, of course, meant his brother, Dave, who was the primo guest of the day. With Sonia glued to his side, he regaled one and all with his war tales.
Maisie was in high heaven, flitting around like a butterfly in her star-spangled bathing suit. He’d never get her to sleep tonight.
John LeDeux walked over to them, a cell phone pressed to his ear, a longneck bottle of beer in the other hand. Clicking the phone off with his thumb, he put the device in the back pocket of his khaki cargo shorts, which rode low on his hips. He wore no shirt. “I’ve got news, folks,” he said, hunkering down in front of them.
Adam was immediately alert.
And so was Simone who asked, “What? Not another fire?”
“The arson at Legal Belles. No, not a new one. You’ll never guess who’s responsible.” He paused, setting his bottle aside, and told them, “Luther Ferguson.”
“What? He’s in jail,” Simone said.
“He ordered the fire from the inside. Friend of one of his cellmates did the deed.”
“We already knew that Ferguson had family money behind him,” Adam told Simone.
She nodded. “What will this mean for Ferguson?”
“His jail sentence will be extended. I doubt if he’ll get out before he’s seventy, if then.”
“Then the threat is over?” Simone asked.
“Sure is, sis,” John said, squeezing Simone’s knee.
John walked off to join his wife sitting on the edge of the pool, who could be heard warning her husband, “Don’t you dare, don’t you dare.” He did dare, picking her up and jumping with both of them into the pool, causing a huge splash. Adam hoped his cell phone was waterproof.
Simone turned to Adam, “That is such a relief, that we know the truth, anyway.”
He squeezed her shoulder and for just a moment she relaxed against him.
“You know I love you, don’t you, Simone?” he asked, suddenly. To his surprise, the words came easily.
She straightened, and turned slowly toward him. “No, I don’t know that, Adam.”
“Why do you think I’m acting so crazy?”
“Maybe Cajun Crazy is catching.”
“I love you,” he said.
She just stared at him.
“I love you.”
“Stop saying that.”
“I love you.”
She started to cry.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because I love you, too.”
“Of course you do, darlin’.”
And she melted, the way he’d hoped she would.
It was as simple, and complicated, as that. Men fought, women resisted. Or women fought, and men resisted. But love conquered all.
The only thing missing was . . . reunion sex.