More Than a Hashtag, page 13
“Well, I don’t care who did your face. Professional or not, Daddy’s never gonna let ya outta the house when y’all look like a street lady.”
“I do not! Shut your mouth, William Charles Boudreaux. At least I don’t look like I’m carryin’ ‘round a five-pound ham in my belly.”
“Maybe y’all should eat a five-pound ham. It might do y’all some good, Skinny Minnie!”
I just stood there thankin’ the sweet Lord I didn’t have a sister. It was some pure entertainment watchin’ Chilly go at Jovie without their Mama ‘round to referee.
“Get lost, jerks. Make sure you change your britches, Chilly. Y’all got ‘da gumbo.”
Jovie turned and stomped her royal self outta the house followed by our sweet duet of laughter. Best. Moment. Ever.
“Guess we can’t talk in here. Let’s go to the boat house and grab some drinks from Daddy’s frigidaire. We can talk there in peace.”
We were sittin’ on the boat dock with our feet danglin’ in the water and drinkin’ our Cokes while we kept one eye out for alligator gars. The day had been hotter’n blazes, but the breeze comin’ down the bayou cooled us off. Our sweaty shirts were dried stiff. We were lookin’ at the last few hours of freedom, and we had things to discuss and plans to make.
“I forgot to tell y’all it’s been confirmed; I have ever’ class with Jovie,” I whined to Chilly.
“Gah-lee, I’m sorry. That’s my fault. Mama arranged it so I could have all the same classes as Jovie. Then I can study her notes when I get home from workin’ with the gators. Jovie’s a crap student, and you’re a good tutor. Maybe I can use y’all’s notes ‘stead of hers. That be a’right with you, Tee?”
“Absolutely! That’ll give us a reason to spend time together, and we can investigate whatever’s goin’ on out at the warehouse. I know Pinkie’s involved in that somehow, and it ain’t good. Why can’t we just ask Pinkie what’s goin’ down?”
“Aww, he ain’t gonna tell us nothin’. First, if it’s somethin’ bad or illegal, he knows I’ll tell Daddy. That’d lead to ‘nother confrontation ‘tween Daddy and Biggun. Second, Pinkie never tells me nothin’. He’s a big old mystery man.”
We sat and considered our options and drank our Cokes for a few more minutes.
“Hey, I got an idea! Why not after school tomorrow, I go to the library and ask Emma if she knows what’s up with Pinkie? I know she’s been with him in his new truck and probably noticed the new fancy clothes and ring he’s been wearin’. She’ll tell me. ‘Specially if I tell her how worried we all are ‘bout Pinkie. That’s a good start,” I said.
“Great plan, Tee! But I’m still thinkin’ we need to take a trip out to the warehouse and see for ourselves what’s happenin’. Let’s make sure the moon is past full. We ain’t takin’ no chances. Not that I believe Biggun’s rougarou claim, but we still gotta be careful.”
“Y’all won’t hear me arguin’. I think at least tonight and tomorrow the moon’ll be pretty full. Mamere says it’s full for three nights straight, but we always take precautions with buttons for five nights. Maybe the weekend after this one? That’ll give us time to settle into school and gator huntin’.”
“Yeah, we can plan on goin’ then. It’ll depend on how the gator hunt’s goin’ and how many tags Daddy’s filled. I got no clue what to expect. Dang that Pinkie anyway. This is no good, no good,” Chilly shook his head in disbelief.
“I hear ya, but we’ll figure it out. We are . . . The. Dynamic. Duo!
Chilly and I laughed and laughed, ’memberin’ old times when we played at Batman and Robin for days on end. We were ‘bout eight years old when we saw our first Batman movie. I still had the Batman cape Mamere made for me.
“Times were simple then, dude,” I said with a little hint of sadness in my voice.
“Yeah, but now we get to concentrate on . . . women!” hollered Chilly shakin’ his hips side to side and raisin’ his eyebrows makin’ me laugh again.
I thought he’d get over that phase, but noooo, not so far.
“I’ll keep an eye on Sue Ellen for ya, Chill-Man. I just hope Slugger is his usual obnoxious self and Sue Ellen has the sense the good Lord gave a goose so she’ll see right through him.”
“Yeah, me too. But thanks, buddy. Good luck in school tomorrow.”
“Dude. I just wish y’all was goin’ with me. Good luck, Master Gator Hunter! Go get ‘em!”
We cheered each other on, ‘cuz nobody else would even give us a second thought. That was okay. If anybody found a best friend like Chilly Boudreaux, he’d got himself a friend for life. That’s all I needed.
19
Itchy’s Secret
Ritchie Roland Hebert, known by his friends as Itchy, didn’t need to see the shiny, black Escalade drive up the narrow, overgrown path to the swamp shack where he lived with his daddy and Uncle Blue. Itchy was a listener. He heard things nobody else bothered to notice. That trait had served him well in his fifteen years of life. He was aware of ever’ little noise and voice that belonged in his world.
When he heard the loud noise of a strange vehicle and the pace of unknown boots walkin’ ‘cross the rough cypress log porch, he didn’t have to see to know trouble was coming.
Itchy slowly put down his fillet knife and let the string of cleaned catfish slip back into the tub of water. He crept soundlessly ‘cross the dock and stopped by the edge of the shack so he could better hear what was happenin’ out front.
While Itchy’d been sittin’ on the edge of the small dock on the bayou cleanin’ catfish, his daddy and Uncle Blue were sprawled in the old Adirondack chairs out front. They were deep into their third six-pack of Bud. After all, it was still Labor Day. Why shouldn’t the celebration continue?
They were both enjoyin’ this good excuse for relaxin’ when Uncle Blue said with a slight slur, “Ever’ day’s a celebration on the bayou, why skip today?”
Itchy heard the slap of the two men givin’ high fives and almost missing as they put their big paws together.
Their deep-throat, drunken laughter made ‘em completely unaware of the strangers who’d come ‘round the corner, standin’ there, watchin’ and waitin’ to be noticed.
When Uncle Blue finally caught sight of the trio, he grabbed his shotgun and knocked over his chair tryin’ to stand up to point it at ‘em. This got Daddy’s attention, and he hollered in surprise while fumblin’ for his own shotgun.
“Who the hell are you, and why y’all on my land?”
“Mr. Hebert?” asked the man obviously in charge. The two men behind him just stood there like giant cypress trees that grew knee deep in the swamp.
“Who wants t’know?”
“My name is Elmo Astle, and I’ve come to present y’all with a proposition that will benefit us both.”
“A proposition? Those things get folks killed or put in jail. Cain’t see no reason y’all’s would be any different. I don’t even know ya, and y’all askin’ me to trust ya? Hell, I don’t trust Blue here, and he’s my brother.”
Daddy and Blue laughed at their own joke, and Mr. Astle smiled, but the tree trunks in suits behind him didn’t move a muscle.
“Well, my proposition doesn’t involve anything illegal and gives y’all a chance to make some cash for doing basically nothin’ but lookin’ like heroes.”
Daddy and Uncle Blue started laughin’ again.
“Well, Mr. Hassole, that there sounds too good to be true. Y’all got ‘bout three minutes to explain, and then I’ll shoot y’all’s be-hinds full of buckshot while I chase ya offa my land.”
Now it was Mr. Astle’s turn to laugh.
He looked back at his unsmilin’ escorts and said, “Well, okay, I better talk fast. KROC radio announced a five-hundred-dollar prize for proof of a rougarou. I’m prepared to give you a photograph taken out by the old warehouse on Trahan’s Pond showin’ a rougarou. Y’all take it to the radio station in a believable amount of time and claim you took the picture. I don’t care what story y’all make up, but I’ll give you seven hundred to make it a good one. You get to keep the five hundred in contest money. That gives y’all twelve hundred to do nothin’ but be creative and believable when you tell your story.”
“What’s in it for you?” asked Daddy.
“Well, I’m interested in keepin’ folks away from that piece of land out there, and I’m thinkin’ a rougarou might be a damn convincin’ reason.”
Daddy seemed to be considering. “One question, Hassole,” asked Daddy. “What kinda business y’all doin’ out in the swamp?”
“I’m in the import and export business. That’s all ya need to know,” Elmo Astle answered. It was obvious he hated bein’ questioned.
“Where’s the picture from?” Daddy asked soundin’ worried and iritated.
“Don’t worry ‘bout that. It’s very authentic lookin’, and if you want in on our little venture, I’ll show you the picture, but there’s no backin’ out once you’ve seen it. You’re committed from then on.”
“Tell ya what. Make your payment a thousand, and I’ll be more creative’n a magazine writer tellin’ a story ‘bout that Angelina Jo-lee. We got a deal?”
“I think I can handle that. But I’m warnin’ you. If it gets out y’all lied, it’s gonna be very, very bad for you, Mr. Herbert.”
He handed Daddy the picture and waited for a reaction.
“Whoo-wee! That there’s the best picture of a rougarou I seen outside the tourist books. We’re in, eh Blue?”
Uncle Blue nodded eagerly. Mr. Astle reached out to shake Daddy’s hand, then turned with his crew to step off the rickety porch. None of ‘em looked back.
“Fifteen hundred dollars! That’s . . . how much each?” asked Blue. Uncle Blue was not known for his math skills.
Daddy and Uncle Blue waited ‘til the men were in their SUV and outta ear shot.
Daddy hollered out to Itchy, “BOYYY . . . I know y’all listened to everythin’. But if y’all breathe a word, I’ll drop ya in the swamp for the gators. Catfish cleaned and ready to fry? We’re starvin’, ain’t we, Blue?”
Uncle Blue snorted out a laugh of agreement.
Itchy brought his Daddy the cleaned fish. He didn’t need to speak up and promise to keep their secret. His role in this household was to be seen and not heard. Itchy knew better’n to talk outta school, but he also knew there was somethin’ wrong with the deal his daddy’d made. Somethin’ very, very wrong.
20
High School Frisson
When I got home from Chilly’s, I was surprised to see a taxi pullin’ up ‘cross the street at Miz J’s. We don’t see many taxis on our side of town. We believe in the bus or our own two feet to get us most places. Mama was lucky to have the old blue Cadillac, but it didn’t get used very much considerin’ the price of gas.
I ran inside long ‘nough to holler to Mamere I’d be right back and ran over to see Miz J. The driver’d carried in her suitcase, and she was givin’ him a tip when I climbed up on her front stoop. The taxi guy gave me a smile and a salute when he left. I returned the favor.
“Hey, Miz J,” I greeted her, and she gave me a hug. “I’m sure glad ya got home safe. Feels like y’all been gone forever.”
“How’s my favorite guy?” she asked, smilin’. “Did you and Chilly manage to keep yourselves out of trouble while I was gone? Please tell me you spent some quality time writing about your thoughts and experiences.”
“We sure tried to stay outta trouble, ma’am. But sometimes trouble just finds us. I spent an hour each night ‘fore bed writin’. Sometime y’all might like to read what I wrote. School starts tomorrow, so I don’t have time to write anything tonight.
“How was the funeral and seein’ y’all’s family? I’m sorry your trip had to involve somebody dyin’ and getting buried in the ground.”
The words were just flyin’ outta my mouth. I was so glad to see her.
“My trip was just fine, thank you for asking. My father lived a good life, so I felt peace having said my final goodbyes. The rest of the trip was spent sorting out family business. I’m glad it is finished, and I am back home with my real family.”
“Well, we’re glad y’all are back too. Now, if I don’t get back home, Mamere is gonna have a duck fit ‘bout me bein’ late for supper. There’s lots of things to do to get ready for school tomorrow. Bein’ a freshman is a whole new ball game. I gotta look my best and practice actin’ like I own the school.”
Miz J laughed and said, “Ohhh, to be that young again. Good luck, Tee. I know you will do well. Come over and visit when you can, and we will talk about your writing.”
“You know it, Miz J.”
I waved and hustled my bustle out the door and back home. I could smell fried chicken and okra and corn bread ‘fore I got into the yard. Mmm, Mamere knew just what I needed: a full belly and some fortification to face my first day of high school without Chilly.
“Somethin’ smells delicious! How’d y’all know I got myself an envie for some fried chicken?” I asked, huggin’ Mamere’s neck.
Mama walked in the door, and I hugged her neck too.
“Well, look at us! All home at the same time for supper. What a nice way to end the summer,” Mama said, washin’ her hands in the kitchen sink. After all the handwashin’ was done, we sat down to say grace and eat.
“Y’all ready for your big day tomorrow?” asked Mama.
“Yes, ma’am. I just gotta decide what to wear and pack my backpack. Then a shower and off to bed. I gotta admit, my stomach’s in a big knot thinkin’ ‘bout walkin’ into school without Chilly. I ain’t never done that ‘fore. We always face things together.”
“I hear they are bussin’ some kids over from Eufaula,” said Mama. “They had some water damage in the school. Bad ‘nough they had to tear it down. So, half the high school kids are comin’ here, and the other half will go to Jasper High this year.”
“Oh, wow, that’s a bunch of crap. Oops . . . sorry y’all. That just slipped out. We ain’t never had but a few new kids come in for the new year. A bunch of new kids makes things even more fearful.”
Here I’d been thinkin’ my only competition would be Slugger and Woody stealin’ all the girls. Now we had new blood comin’ in to contend with.
Mamere always had the right thing to say at times like this.
“Well, Thomas Edison, just ‘member this: most kids your age don’t even like themselves. I don’t think y’all really need to be concerned ‘bout ‘em likin’ you. ‘Sides that, you’re usually a likable guy.” Her advice sounded a lot like somethin’ I’d heard Miz J say.
Mamere was grinnin’ at me, and my mood lifted.
“Mamere,” Mama said, “what’d we ever do without your good advice?”
“Well, I hope y’all never need to find out!” Mamere joked.
We did the dishes and spent the rest of the night lookin’ at old school pictures of me, laughin’ at the way I had grown. We all agreed my poor nose had kept a steady growth rate ‘head of the rest of my body.
I got my shower, picked out clothes for tomorrow, and was listenin’ to KROC radio for a while ‘fore bed. I turned the radio down low ‘nough Mama and Mamere couldn’t hear.
Hot dang, that Mouth of the South, DJ Jarvis LeJeune, was still offerin’ money for a rougarou picture. I wished he’d just leave it be and let us get on with our lives. I sure didn’t wanna hear ‘bout an awful grisly death ‘cuz greedy folks were tryin’ to film somethin’ best left alone. I turned the radio off and settled in.
That night, I said a prayer for Chilly to be safe and for me not to get punched or kicked by a pack of mean new kids. I fell asleep hopin’ the Lord thought me and Chilly were boys worth savin’.
“Sure you don’t want me to carry y’all to school, Tee? I gotta take the car in for the oil change anyway, so I’m drivin’ to work,” offered Mama.
“Thanks, but if I show up within twenty-five feet of the school with my mama on the first day, the guys’ll offer me a noonie, and I’ll never live it down,” I answered.
In Mama’s eyes, I was still five years old.
“Well, get on with ya then. Have a good day and call me at the clinic when y’all get home. Let me know how it went without the other half of the ‘Dynamic Duo.’ ”
Mama meant Chilly. It felt like I’d lost a leg or somethin’. I was scared and excited all at once, but I knew if I ate one more bite of grits, I’d puke all over Mamere’s clean floor.
“I’m goin’ to the library right after school, but I’ll let y’all know how my first day went when I get home,” I yelled after Mama. “Sorry, Mamere, I can’t eat ‘nother bite. My belly is givin’ me fits.”
“ ‘Member what I told you last night, Cher. Everybody is so worried ‘bout themselves, they won’t be at all worried ‘bout you. Y’all walk in there just like ya been doin’ for the past ten years, and you’ll be just fine. Just keep your big old Hopper smile on y’all’s face and keep that chin up.” Mamere preached.
Her eyes were gettin’ all misty, and I thought I better leave ‘fore we found ourselves havin’ a good cry. I gave her a big hug and went out the door for my first Chilly-free walk to school.
I’d just turned the corner from Spruce Street up onto Sixth Avenue when I heard somebody holler my name.
“Tee, wait up!” called LaShondra June Bell. She was walkin’ all by her lonely self too. I forgot her older sister, LaVerne, had graduated last spring.
“Hey, ‘Shondra,” I called back, real glad to see her.
We’d been friends since Mother’s Day Out, but back then girls said boys had cooties, so they kept their distance. LaShondra’s family had recently moved into her grandmere’s old house on Locust Street. Truth be told, I’d always had a bit of a crush on LaShondra. She had the most beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes and dimples when she smiled. She wasn’t loud and rowdy like other girls.
