Night Magic (22 page)

"Your Tante Marie didn't have to tell me, I
found a few of them gris gris that you didn't even see. I got a
good mind to go see Monmon Odette myself." Antoine threw the dish
towel down onto the counter in anger.

" That's just what they want, to see us get
upset. No, let's carry on as though nothing is happening. Promise
me you won't go near them." Savannah hugged him tight, panic rising
that he would become stubborn and insist on facing the Rousselles.
Despite her words, the thought of them turning to threaten her
father as well sent chills through her.

"All right, cher. You calm yourself down now.
I was just blowin' off steam. You right about ignorin' them. That's
the one thing they can't stand."

That night Savannah found it hard to sleep.
Finally accepting that much needed rest would elude her at least
for a while yet, she went into the den. Picking up her canvas bag
containing pens, pencils and extra notebooks, she reached in to get
some of her supplies. She could a least get a little work done to
help the case. A sharp object pricked her finger tips. Drawing her
hand back she rubbed away two tiny drops of blood from puncture
wounds. Swearing softly, she dumped the contents of the bag onto
the couch. A dark item stuck with nine pins fell to the floor.
Touching it with her toe, Savannah gave a cry of disgust. It was a
cow's tongue, powerful gris gris used to bring down a foe. With the
large broom from the kitchen closet, she swept it into a paper bag
and hurled it into the large garbage can that sat outside the back
door. She scrubbed her hands with hot soapy water until they were
red. Breathing raggedly, she climbed into bed. Shivers shook
through her despite the heavy patchwork quilt pulled up to her
chin. Now every sound, every shape in the darkness seemed to signal
some menace moving toward her. Drawing her body into a ball, she
cried herself into a restless slumber.

Chapter 9

Purple, green, and gold was everywhere.
Streamers were hung from the replica nineteenth century lampposts
downtown. Grocery stores, drug stores, even the dry cleaning store
put up window displays of Mardi Gras masks. The town's only bakery
was buzzing day and night to supply king cakes for parties. Local
companies were sending them all over the country to clients. Bosses
served them at staff meetings. The society pages of the Beau
Chene's small newspaper were filled with the pictures of
elaborately costumed kings and queens presiding over the fancy
balls of their krewes. Savannah and Charice were thrilled to revive
a girlhood tradition, king cake parties. Beginning the month
before, a circle of their childhood playmates began to host the
Saturday night parties. A huge king cake was the most important
item on the menu. Whoever got the baby, a tiny plastic doll
concealed somewhere inside the cake, had to host the next party.
But no one minded since the whole point of Mardi Gras is to find as
many opportunities as possible to party. Now that they were all
grown up, they had decided to include males. Because Imelda had
gotten the baby at Charice's house the week before, she was the
host for the party they were attending the Saturday before Fat
Tuesday. Savannah and Charice watched with amusement as she went
around trying hard to convince everyone that Carlton had only
turned to another woman because she had rejected him.

"I guess he had to settle for something since
I lost interest. Child, she is welcome to his tired butt. He wasn't
exactly the most exiting man in the boudoir, if you know what I
mean." Imelda told one more bored listener for the hundredth time
that night.

"That is pitiful. Everybody knows he found
something he wanted more than her." Charice, standing nearby,
tittered.

"Yeah, and I can understand why. I dated her
for two months. The only time she stopped talking about herself was
to ask me to buy her something, take her someplace expensive, or
tell her how good she looked." Terrel, another old acquaintance
from high school, stood to her left. He shook his head before
walking away.

"And she wonders why she has no man." Charice
gave a snort.

"Stop being so catty. I think it's sad that
she has to put on such an act." Savannah gave Charice a look of
admonishment.

"I suppose so. But she makes it hard to be
sympathetic."

Savannah had to reluctantly agree as she
watched Imelda behave condescendingly towards two old classmates
who had never been a part of the accepted cliques in high school.
Soon though her attention was drawn back to Paul. He seemed moody
and preoccupied all evening. His conversation and laughter had a
forced quality. More than once, she glanced at him and found a
grave, thoughtful expression on his handsome features and a distant
look in his eyes. Savannah, aware of how fast small town gossip
could spread, was afraid to ask what was wrong. She felt guilty
about having had dinner with Devin, yet angry with herself because
she had done nothing to betray his trust. So why couldn't she tell
him?

"Here you go, honey. Say Paul, y'all ready
for the next few days of parades?" Rodney, Charice's date, came
back with a refill of punch for her.

"Yeah, man. We'll pick you up at about noon.
We should get there in time for the first big parade in
Metairie."Paul continued to hold the same full glass of punch. A
blast of music came from Imelda's elaborate compact disc system. On
hearing the words "When you go to New Orleans, you oughta go to the
Mardi Gras", one of the traditional Mardi Gras anthems, the whole
room began to sing along and dance wildly. Savannah laughed at the
antics of her friends. Paul smiled only briefly.

"You are certainly quiet tonight," Savannah
ventured cautiously.

"Not much company. Sorry."

"This is the time to put all your troubles
aside. Come on, let's dance." Savannah took the glass from him.

"Maybe later."

"Have we had an argument that I don't know
about?"

"What? Oh, no. I 'm really sorry for acting
like a zombie tonight. It's just that I'm not looking forward to
testifying. I was hoping to get it over with before the holiday.
Now I have more time to dread being put on the spot." Paul picked
up the glass taking a long sip of the powerful punch.

"Oh, right. That's the way trials go. Legal
wrangling over rules of evidence, making motions about evidence
being entered, can cause these kinds of delays." Savannah was able
to relax for the first time since their arrival.

"God, I wish it was over."

"You'll do fine. Just stick to your report.
Don't hesitate to refer to notes if you have to. They won't expect
you to have it memorized. And only answer the question you've been
asked."

"I know. I'm not nervous about being on the
stand. It's how I feel about being on the opposite side of you and
your dad in this thing."

"Paul, we understand. You're an independent
consultant hired to do a job. Why even most of the committee
understands your position. It's Trosclair and Singleton we don't
trust. They pulled some pretty dubious stunts in business over the
years."

"You’re something else. Here I am standing
around with a gloomy look, won't dance, and keeping you from having
a good time. I wouldn't blame you if you had poured this punch over
my head. Instead you coach me on how to testify against your side
and try to make me feel better about doing it." Paul drew her close
to rub his cheek against hers.

As the tempo of the music wound down, he led
her to a small clearing. Wrapping her in his arms, they moved to
the slow pulsating rhythm of a love song. For the next hour they
danced together. Savannah wanted so much to tell Paul about Devin,
but something held her back. For the first time in weeks they were
totally at ease with other. The fabled enchantment of Mardi Gras
seemed to have torn away all barriers between them. She did not
want to lose this feeling, though it might only last for another
three days.

"Hey, it's almost midnight." Paul spoke into
her ear so that she could hear him over the music and laughter.

"Yeah. This party is winding down." Savannah
glanced around at the dwindling crowd. Across the room Charice
waved goodbye then gave an exaggerated wink.

"Maybe we should be heading home, too." Paul
followed her gaze in time to see Charice and Rodney, holding each
other close, leave through the front door.

"Maybe you're right."

Back at Paul's trailer, he wasted no time.
With a wink, he turned on his compact disc player. "Let's have a
little mood music. I bought this one just for you.""Oh my, you know
what that song does to me." Savannah threw her head back allowing
the clear, rich strains of Dorothy Moore singing "Misty Blue" to
wash over her.

"Yes indeed. Why do you think I put it on
first?" Paul began to kiss her neck.

Soon they were locked together in a tight
embrace that hurt so good. The sweetness of his kiss sent a warm
flush down her throat to her breasts then her pelvis. Feeling his
hands push her hips against his, she moved with him in a soft
rocking motion in time to music of their own making. Without
breaking contact with their lips, they went down onto the large
stuffed pillows on the floor. They took their time undressing each
other, pausing to caress, nuzzle, and lovingly appreciate each
stage. Paul moaned low as he covered her breasts with both
hands.

"So good." He breathed huskily against her
skin.

Rising to meet him, her whole being quivered
deliciously as he filled her. The next few moments were an eternity
spent in a glorious rapture as they moved in harmony, responding to
their desires. His whispered words of love guided her to touch him
in ways and places she would not have thought she could.Later, at
home she sank into her bed exhausted but wonderfully so. Savannah
hugged her shoulders remembering the red hot touch that had left
her weak only moments before. No, she would not allow Devin to
spoil such a precious time. Without one thought for LaShaun or
nightmares, she drifted off into a deep sleep.

*****

Music, laughter, garish colors come from all
sides to delight the senses. People from around the country
thronged the streets with drinks in hand. The calculated surrender
to chaos liberating the most conservative visitors. As usual, Mardi
Gras New Orleans strutted and swayed with the brazenness and
exuberance of a lady of the evening. One who despite her age can
still entice all those foolish, or lucky, enough to touch her.
Astonished tourists gawked at the fantastic sights and sounds of
revelers cavorting in a wild abandonment that would make Bacchus
himself blush. Men dressed in scanty women's lingerie, women not
dressed at all, costumed characters from mythology, cartoons,
become the norm, even mundane. Savannah and Paul stood on the
balcony waving to the mass of humanity below.

"My Lord, look at that!" Paul pointed to a
line of naked people running joyously through the crowd oblivious
to the cool windy weather.

"That has got to be the least of the
outrageous sights to see, Paul." Savannah was having great time
watching Paul watch the antics of the crowd.

"Maybe, but that second lady works as the
office manager for one of my biggest clients."

"You mean you were actually looking at
faces?" Savannah howled with glee as she leaned over the railing to
get a better look.

"Man, this is the party to end all parties.
An entire city has lost its mind." Rodney came out with a tray of
drinks.

"Paul, this apartment is fabulous. Not only
luxurious, but right on the parade route with a balcony." Charice
followed him with another tray of food.

"Thanks. Brandon is a friend of Sam's. He
hates being in New Orleans during Mardi Gras, so for the past four
years he's let us use it. I've only been a couple of times. Sam
comes almost every year."

"I heard my name." Sam strolled in holding
the hand of a statuesque woman with auburn hair that set off her
golden brown skin perfectly.

"Say, man." Paul shook hands with his
friend.

"Everybody, this is my homey Sam." Paul
introduced everyone around.

"Nice meeting you, especially you Savannah.
You're the gorgeous lady who has my man walking on clouds." Sam
kissed her cheek.

"Thank you." Savannah blushed.

"This ebony princess is Danielle." Sam beamed
at his date.

"Hello." Danielle flashed a dazzling smile at
the men and gave the women a cool appraising glance.

"Put on some music guys, let's party!"
Charice raised her glass.

For the next several hours they danced, sang,
and caught trinkets thrown from the huge ornate floats gliding by.
Lost in the giddy atmosphere, Savannah felt free for the first time
in weeks. Filled with happiness, Savannah was thoroughly enjoying
herself despite her misgivings about the crowd and danger of rowdy
New Orleans that pulls out all the stops.

"I have to say I'm surprised you got Miss
`small town parades are good enough for me' to come, Paul. Hey
y'all, catch!" Charice yelled as she threw plastic bead necklaces
provided by Sam to someone below.

"And I can't believe old workhorse Honorè
showed this year. What could it be?" With a comical shrug, Sam
looked at Charice. As if on cue, both pointed to their foreheads in
mock contemplation."Hum-mmm?" They said in unison.

"Okay, Laurel and Hardy." Paul grinned in
spite of himself.

"It's true though. If last year anybody would
have told me I'd be here, I would have said don't count on it."
Speaking softly into his ear while the others were preoccupied
watching a fanciful float with a huge mechanical belly dancer,
Savannah leaned against Paul's chest.

"Guess it depends on who you share it with,
huh?" Paul wrapped his arms around her.