Bayou My Love: A Novel (22 page)

Chapter 18

I
froze, not wanting to turn around. I told myself that I was imagining the
voice, that I was finally cracking from this disaster. But then I heard it
again.

“Enza!”
my father yelled, his voice reverberating through the house. “Why the hell
aren’t you answering your phone?”

My
father stood in the doorway. He looked as if he’d just stormed out of a board
meeting, wearing an expensive charcoal suit with a hideous red and purple
patterned tie. He snatched his aviator shades from his face and stuffed them in
his suit pocket.

“Dad,
what are you doing down here?”

“As
per our last conversation, I thought I should come see how things were going.
Since I called two dozen times and left messages, to no avail, I naturally
began to wonder whether you were avoiding me or had ended up in a gutter.” He
gave Jack a long, disapproving look and then went on. “It seemed that if I
wanted to talk to you I was going to have to come do it in person.”

Jack’s
brow furrowed.

“It’s
only been a few days,” I said. “Batteries die. Phones get lost. I hardly think
that warrants getting on a plane.”

He
glared at me. “Are you going to tell me your battery was dead? You couldn’t go
pop a quarter in a pay phone? Avoiding calls is no way to handle a business,
but I think you know that. You drop off the radar, I start to think you’re
doing something foolish.”

“Nobody
has pay phones any more,” I said.

His
face hardened.

I
glanced over at Jack. He had that same look on his face that he’d had when he’d
slugged Remy in the bar.

My
father brushed past me and stomped into the burned room, his narrowed eyes
taking in every detail, every singed surface. “Holy hell,” he said. His frown
was like a scar.

“I
wasn’t avoiding you,” I said. “I actually lost my phone. I guess your messages
didn’t get passed on to the new one.”

“I’d
ask how things were going, but that seems painfully evident. You neglected to
mention fire damage. Anything else you left out?”

“There
wasn’t any fire damage when we talked. As usual, your timing is exceptional.”

He
stalked through the other rooms. “This is a disaster! A money pit.”

“It’s
not that bad,” I said. “It won’t take much to wrap it up.” As the words came
out, I realized it sounded like a plea. It sounded ridiculously optimistic,
even to my ears. But I knew I could finish it.

My
father snorted. “It won’t take much? Look around you, Enza. That’s delusional.”

“You
should have seen it before she started,” Jack said. “She’s worked a miracle on
it already.”

“And
who the hell’s this?” my father asked, poking his thumb at Jack.

Before
I could answer, Jack stepped closer and extended his hand. “Jack Mayronne,” he
said. I could tell from his clenched jaw that he didn’t really want to shake my
father’s hand, but his politeness won out over his anger. He looked like he’d
rather be anywhere but here.

My
father had a knack for making people want to leave a room just by walking into
it. He took Jack’s hand and gave it one hard shake, purely as a formality, and
said, “You’re one of the carpenters?”

Jack
raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,”
I said, before he could answer.

Jack
shot me a look.

My
father paced between us, his expensive loafers echoing on the hardwood. “When
did this happen?”

“It’s
not as bad as it looks,” I said.

His
eyes rested on mine. “Forgive me if I have a hard time believing that, dear.
Now how did you manage to catch this place on fire?”

“Christ,”
Jack muttered under his breath.

My
father whipped his head around. “Something you want to add, son?”

“Jack,”
I said, but he didn’t even glance at me. His eyes were steady on my father’s.
This was about to get bad.

“Your
daughter was trapped in the house,” Jack said. “She could have been killed.”
His eyes were bright with fury, but he kept his voice steady and low.

“I
wasn’t exactly trapped. Let’s not blow things out of proportion.”

“Oh,
right,” Jack said. “If I were going to be completely accurate, I’d tell you
Enza stayed in the burning house in order to hose this room down and keep it
from burning to the ground before the fire department got here.”

My
father’s jaw tightened. “I knew this place would be more trouble than it was
worth.”

“I’ll
finish it,” I said. “I just may need a few extra weeks.”

“Honey,
you need to cut your losses, go back home, and let me get some folks in here
that know what they’re doing.” He pulled at a piece of charred wood trim. “Or
just sell it like it is and get out while we can still break even.”

“No.
I said I’d finish it, and I will.”

“Time
is money,” he said, frowning. “And this is money we don’t have.”

“I’m
not leaving.” I felt the blood rushing to my head again.

He
planted his hands on his hips, glaring at me. It took every ounce of my focus
not to look away.

“You’re
impossible,” he said. “Never know when to back down.”

“Sorry
to disappoint you,” I said, my voice rising. “But I’m not going to hand this
over just because you came down here in your fancy suit on your big white
horse.”

I
felt like screaming, but I knew he’d be hoping for that—it would be another
example of how I’d lost control. So I said, “I’m not going to quit just because
you said so. You gave me a job to do, and you wanted me to prove myself, and
now you’re telling me to quit before I have the chance to.”

“I’m
not telling you this as your father. I’m telling you as your boss.”

“I
think you are telling me as my father. Because I’m telling you this place can
be salvaged and you can still turn a profit on it—and you’re willing to throw
that away. Would you do that with anybody else on your crew? You sure wouldn’t
do it to Sam or Jeffrey.” I knew I was pushing him, but enough was enough. He’d
taken the guys that worked for him under his wing and pretended to do the same
with me—but he didn’t give me half the latitude he gave them. And he knew it.

“This
is a bad business decision,” he said. “You’re letting your pride get in the
way, as usual. And I’m not losing money because of your pride.”

“This
is about finishing what I started.”

He
stared at the ceiling, shaking his head. For what seemed like forever, he
didn’t say anything. Finally, he put his glasses back on and said, “You always
were as stubborn as a goddamn goat.” He stepped between piles of rubble as he
made his way to the door. From the porch, he turned and said, “I should just
sell it as-is.”

“You
can’t,” I said, unflinching. “It’s in my name.”

“Need
I remind you who’s covering the cost of these repairs?”

“We
have an agreement. Or does that apply to everyone except me?”

His
face was twisted into a scowl, but I refused to look away. He strode out of the
house and climbed into his boat of a rental car, slamming the door. When the
car disappeared at the end of the driveway, I slid into a heap on the porch.

I
was furious that he would come here under the pretense of being worried about
my safety. He hadn’t batted an eye when Jack told him about how I tried to
fight the fire. He didn’t care about all the work I’d already done. All he saw
were the flaws, how I hadn’t stayed on the schedule he’d made.

Jack
stood with his arms crossed, his eyes on the driveway. “Hard to believe you
came from that stock.”

“Sometimes
I think I’m more like him than I’d like to admit.”

In
the distance, a car horn blew. Jack shook his head. “You OK?”

“I
will be.”

He
raised an eyebrow. “Now would you like to get out of here for a while?”

What
I really wanted to do was drive my fist through the wall. But the lovely arch
in his eyebrows made me smile. “Yes, Mr. Mayronne, I believe I would.”

He
pulled me to my feet and said, “Good. I know just the place.”

~~~~

We
climbed into the Jeep, and he said, “Brenda’s has the best gator tail in the
state. And the bourbon’s not bad, either.”

I
grimaced at the thought. “Do I look like a woman who eats alligator tail?”

“It’s
a delicacy,” he said, mock offended. “You can’t leave here without trying it.”

I
cringed at the thought of leaving here. Leaving Jack.

Brenda’s
didn’t look like much from the outside. Locals flocked to it, but it probably
didn’t see many new faces. It was bright yellow clapboard with a wood shingled
roof. An alligator skull hung over the door, a halo of flowers draped over it.
I shuddered, thinking of the skull we’d found in the yard.

As
Jack held the door for me, the people inside turned to see who was coming in.
Several diners sat at the bar, and some were sprinkled in booths and tables. It
looked like a cross between a pancake house and a hunting lodge. The paneled
walls were a jigsaw puzzle of old framed photos and road signs. Red vinyl
booths sat like islands on a scuffed hardwood floor. Jack waved to a woman with
red hair pulled up in a bun, and we slid into a booth. She brought two glasses
of water over and said, “Hey, Jack. Saw you on the news.”

He
winced. “Hope it wasn’t for very long.”

“I
was wondering why we hadn’t seen you around here in a while. But I guess you
got your hands full.” She glanced at me and half-smiled. “Hope y’all catch that
arsonist soon.”

“Brenda,
this is Enza,” he said. “She’s Vergie’s granddaughter.”

“Well,
how about that. We sure miss her.” She smiled, then returned to business. “What
can I get you today? Your usual?”

“Sure,”
he said. “Make it two.”

“You
gonna trust this devil to order for you, hon?” she said to me.

“He’s
a pretty good guesser,” I said, and she grinned.

Brenda
walked back to the front and yelled into the kitchen. The fry cook waved his
arm at her, stubbing a cigarette out against the doorframe.

As
she came back with two beers, the bell above the door clanged, and she turned
like it was a reflex. “Dammit,” she said, frowning. She plunked the beers down
in front of us and strode to the counter.

Remy
ambled toward the bar and eased onto a stool at the end, leaving several empty
seats between him and the nearest diner. He glanced around but didn’t seem to
see us. As a young blond woman appeared to take his order, Brenda intercepted.
She handed the girl a coffee pot and sent her to a booth in the back.

Brenda
sidled over to Remy herself, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked like a
mother hen protecting her brood. He was grinning, holding his hands out beside
him as if to surrender. Her stare didn’t seem to faze him. At last she yanked a
pad out of her apron pocket and scribbled his order on it. She slapped the
ticket on the ring by the window and nodded to the cook.

Jack
sipped his beer. “Some days you just can’t win.”

I
started to get up from the table, but he dropped his hand on my arm. “What do
you think you’re doing?”

“I’m
going to give that cowardly son of a bitch a piece of my mind.”

He
squeezed my arm until I sat back down. “My mother used to say that if you go
around doing that, you’ll soon have no brains left for yourself.”

“How
can you sit here all calm and cool, drinking a beer like nothing happened?”

“I’d
love to go bust this bottle over his head and drag him out into the swamp, but
that ain’t gonna fix anything. If he’s the one behind all this, then we’ll get
him. But not here.”

I
turned my wrist, trying to free myself from his grip.

“Spook
him now,” he said, “and we’ll never catch him.”

At
the bar, Remy still had his back to us. I leaned into the booth, dragging my
fingernails along the vinyl seat. “So I’m supposed to smile and go on like
everything’s fine.”

“Put
the bad guys at ease, and it makes them slip up.”

I
took a long drink. “Come on. Let’s go someplace else.”

“And
miss Brenda’s grilled shrimp and gator tail? No ma’am.” Jack glanced around the
other tables. The place was nearly full now, the lights dim and the room
buzzing with chatter. We were a good twenty feet from the bar, tucked in a
corner. “I’m not letting that jackass ruin our day any more than he already
has.”

“I’m
not sure I can sit in the same building with him,” I said, resting my head in
my hands.

“Just
pretend he’s not here.”

I
rolled my eyes. “Right.”

“New
subject,” he said. “I talked to the chief, and he said it was safe to stay in
the house tonight.”