The Pepper In The Gumbo: A Cane River Romance (16 page)

            Shaking
her head, Mrs. Joubert reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You were
always such a good boy, Paul. You’ve grown into a wonderful man. Your mama must
be so proud.”

            He
patted her awkwardly on the arm and waved as she left the diner, still sniffing,
although she was smiling.

            The
conversation in the diner had dropped while they were talking, and Paul looked
up to see more than several pairs of curious eyes on him. He turned to the
side, leaning against the wall, and took out his phone. He really didn’t want
anyone asking what that was all about. In fact, he wished he’d remembered to
tell Mrs. Joubert not to say anything. Paul stared unseeing at his phone’s
screen, hoping the line would get significantly shorter in the next few
minutes.

            The
door opened and Andy stepped through, glancing around the diner. His expression
was a combination of determination and discomfort. “I’m guessing they’re not
going to have my favorite organic, free-trade, Honduran coffee beans here.”

            “Probably
not.” Paul was relieved to see Andy. He was showered, shaved, and had on jeans
and a button-up shirt with a tie. The guy looked like he wasn’t sure if he was
on vacation or going to work. “I just ran into my sixth grade teacher.”

            Andy
let out a bark of laughter. “Did she say she always knew you’d make it big?” It
was a joke between them. Andy knew exactly what it was like to excel in a
field. Everyone and their cousin wanted to say they called it way back when,
all the way to infancy.

            He
nodded. “Actually, she did.” At Andy’s look of disgust, Paul held up a hand.
“And she’s the only person who can say that honestly, besides my own mother.” 

            “Well,
I’m glad you got to see her, then.” He shrugged, looking around the diner.
“You’re going to get a lot more where that came from, the longer we stay here.”

            “Yeah,”
Paul said. “Also, I may have promised to build them a technology center for the
elementary, middle, and high schools. And pay for the teachers they hire.”

            Andy
made a noise that was between a gasp and a cough. “Build a what? Where?” His
face drained of color. “Oh, man. I knew letting you come back here was a
mistake.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking absolutely horrified.

            “I
didn’t make that promise lightly.”

            “No,
I’m sure you meant every word of it. And I’m sure you plan on following
through.” Andy blew out a breath. “This isn’t how it works, Paul. You don’t
just start handing out money. The company should really set up a charity arm,
and then you make sure the taxes are straight, and then you―”

            “I
know. It’s going to be a long process. And I didn’t just hand her a check.” He
stared out at the tables of tourists and locals, watched the faces, sure for
the first time in a long while that he was doing the right thing.

            A
waitress appeared and greeted them, her blond ponytail swinging from side to
side as she led them to a tiny table near the back. Her pink-check dress was a
little too big, as if she’d borrowed someone else’s uniform. She handed them
menus. “I’m Jenny and I’ll be your waitress today. I’ll get you some water
while you take a peek at the menus.”

            “I
think we already know what we want,” Paul said, smiling. He was going to die of
starvation if he had to wait much longer. “We’ll both have whatever special
comes with hash browns, bacon and eggs.”

            She
frowned, her pretty face scrunched up in confusion. “Sure, we can get you
somethin’ like that. There’s the California special that starts with a braised
romaine salad with fresh figs, or there’s the Mediterranean smoked ribs with
Texas caviar.”

            Paul
took a moment to process those options. That didn’t sound like the diner food
he remembered from his childhood. “Anything with grits, bacon, hash browns,
eggs?” he tried again.

            She
smiled brightly. “I’ll just have the chef fix you some plates up, ‘kay?”

            “Thanks
a lot.” As she walked away, Paul shook his head. “Braised romaine with figs?
Weird.”

            “Sounds
good to me. And no weirder than you promising to build a few computer labs,
complete with teachers,” Andy said.

            “About
that… I had an epiphany,” Paul said.

            Andy’s
brows went up.

            “See,
I went into By The Book this morning and―”

            “Oh,
boy.” Andy interrupted. “I knew it had to do with her. I saw the way you were
looking at her yesterday. Isn’t there a rule about getting involved with the
landlady?”

            “No,
it really isn’t about her. Just let me explain.” Paul held up a hand. “I was
looking for directions and then her ex-boyfriend came in and we got into a
fight―”

            “You
what? Why?” Andy looked a little panicked.

            “He
insinuated something about Alice and my fist decided it didn’t like his face.”
Paul held up one hand, looking at his swollen knuckles.

            Andy
closed his eyes for a second. “And this was your problem, how?”

            He
didn’t have any answer to that question.

            “I’ll
call the lawyers when we get back to the apartment. They’ll need to know about
this in case there’s a lawsuit,” Andy said almost to himself.

            “So,
after that, I was walking down here and this kid stopped me and talked about how
Commander Lorfan was obsessed with revenge. I realized it sounded a lot like
myself,” Paul said.

            “What?
Wait, did you know Alice before you met her yesterday? Like back in high school
or something?”

            “No.
She’s the bookseller who wrote to the Browning Wordsworth Keats site yesterday,
the one I was emailing on the plane. But that’s unrelated.”

            Andy’s
eyes went wide. He said nothing now, just waited for the rest of the story.

            “About
Alice, I didn’t know how everything would go. Really. And the realtor had just
said the apartment was in the historic district so I had no idea that we’d be
living upstairs with her.” He paused as Jenny came by with ice water. She shot
him a glance as she heard the last few words of his sentence.

            As
soon as she was gone, Andy spoke. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say this
whole thing was a set up. It’s too coincidental. What are the odds? Either
you’re the luckiest guy on the planet, or the unluckiest. I’m afraid to find
out which it is.” He shook his head. “Okay, your secret identity has been
exchanging love letters with our landlady who hates you in real life.”

            “Not
love letters,” Paul protested. “Just book talk.” And he wasn’t convinced Alice
hated him. Maybe intensely disliked him.

            “I
still don’t know what this has to do with your sudden crisis,” Andy said.

            “Epiphany,”
Paul said. “This kid understood that the story was central to a good game. You
know a lot of people think it’s only the graphics that make a game successful, but
you and I and every serious gamer knows the story is crucial,” Paul said. He
had Andy’s attention now.
Moving to
Natchitoches for two months was a crazy idea and dragging Andy along was even
crazier, but Paul knew who was the heart of ScreenStop. Andy believed that
technology had to be as beautiful and distinct as possible, with the attention
to detail only a consummate craftsman gave. And when they created a game, above
all else, Andy believed in the story.

            “Go on,” Andy
said.

            “He was talking
about how Reena took down Commander Lorfan with the trap that promised revenge,
knowing he would take the bait.” Paul shifted the water glass in his hands,
watching the rings of condensation on the table overlap. “I realized that I am
the Commander.”

            Andy made a
noise in the back of his throat.

            Paul hurried on.
“I’m doomed if I don’t get a handle on my need for revenge. I came here to show
off to all these people who thought I wouldn’t amount to anything. I wanted to
rub my success in their faces, make sure they saw how rich I am, how I don’t
need them and their bigotry.”

            “And how’s that
going so far?” Andy gave him a sly look that was just short of a smirk.

            “Pretty well. You
know I got everything I wanted without even trying: the site, the building
permit, everything.”

            “And that’s a
problem? I don’t see why we have to try to fix what’s not broken.”

            Paul leaned
forward. “If it’s for the wrong reason, then it could be a very big problem.”
He thought back to Tater, the way he described the Commander. “Right now, I’m
the guy everybody loves. I’m invincible. But give it a few weeks and I could be
knee deep in small-town politics because I’m obsessed with being right.”

            Andy nodded.
“Okay, I can see it. So, you’re over it? We’re going home and just coming back
for the opening?” He took a sip of his water. “I can’t say I’m complaining.
This humidity is unbearable. I feel like I just stepped out of the shower, all
the time.”

            “No, my epiphany
wasn’t that I shouldn’t care. It’s that I need to put my bitterness to better
use.”

            Andy raised an
eyebrow. “Like building computer labs for all the schools.”

            “Right.” Paul
looked up, glancing around the crowded diner. He’d been walking around, his
defenses up, waiting to run into people he used to hate and who had kept him
from exceling. Now he looked to see if there was someone he used to know that
needed help.

            Andy sat back
and let out a long breath. “I’ve always admired you, Paul. I admire your work
ethic and your fire. You were determined to prove everybody wrong and it drove
you to study the hardest, work eighteen-hour days, find a way around a problem
when everyone said it couldn’t be done. I could count on you to never give up
even when our CEO left us in the lurch, and our first big launch was ruined by
that massive bug.”

            “You think I’ve
lost my fire? You think I’m going soft now?”

            Andy shook his
head. “No. Just the opposite. My dad worked two jobs to help put me through MIT.
When I graduated I thought he’d be proud because I’d done what he never got to
do, get a college degree. One night I asked him if he thought about those high
school teachers who wouldn’t help him apply for college. I was sure he’d say he
pictured them every time he got four hours of sleep or worked the graveyard
shift.”

            Paul could feel
a pulse pounding in his head. He knew just what Andy’s dad had said. Paul
thought of all those people who’d stood in his way. Every time he was too tired
to go through some code that wasn’t working, he thought of them. And he gave it
one more shot. Paul didn’t want those people to win. Even now, he could bring
up the memory of their names and faces at the merest suggestion.

            Andy leaned
forward. “He told me he never gave them a second thought. The only thing that
got him out of bed in the middle of the night was the idea of me getting to go
to college.”

            The words sank
deep, resonating with truth. Paul stared down at his glass.

            “Bitterness can
get you pretty far in life. But love always takes you farther,” Andy said.

             “You’re a wise
man, Andy.” Paul heard the roughness in his own voice and cleared his throat.

            “One who’s proud
to call you friend,” he said. He reached out a hand and gave Paul a fist bump.
“And now that we’ve streamlined your new plan to take over the city, I hope the
food is on its way. I’m going to start eating the napkins soon.”

            Paul snorted. Neither
of them enjoyed heart-to-heart talks. This was about as deep as they’d ever
get. But it felt good to know Andy understood.

            Paul thought of
what was coming that evening, that he’d decided to tell Alice he was Browning
Wordsworth Keats. It would be perfect. He was sorting things out, making a new
start. He opened his mouth to tell Andy, but the waitress arrived, bearing
plates of hot food.

            The food
derailed his thoughts. By the time he’d worked his way through half the sausage
links and all the hash browns, Paul thought maybe he’d wait a little longer to
drop that particular bomb on his friend. A guy could only handle so much drama
in one day.

The march of science and technology does not imply growing
intellectual complexity in the lives of most people. It often means the
opposite.—Thomas Sewell

            Alice pulled her
hair back from her face and frowned at her reflection. The music was as loud in
her bedroom as it was outside on the stage outside, with the first band
starting off the night with a bang. She turned her head, squinting at her
reflection. Mamere always said it was better to tame her curls than let them
loose, but Alice felt as if her whole life had been spent trying to tame the
untamable just because her grandmother had said so. She secured the top in a
loose bun and let the rest fall around her shoulders. It wasn’t a great style
for dancing with the swing and jitterbug moves, but she didn’t care. Not
tonight.

            Alice passed
over the tube of beige lipstick and uncapped a bright red. Tonight was one of
the few nights where she could really dress up, and it wasn’t for the shop or
for a date. This festival connected with the deepest parts of her family
heritage and she honored it the only way she could. She would overcome her
introverted self, head to that dance floor, and show the tourists how real
zydeco dancing was done. Her childhood friend Julien Burel would be there,
along with his four brothers, and probably every one of his cousins. Alice never
longed to be the center of attention, but tonight she would step onto that
stage and dance for every member of her family that couldn’t.

            She took a small
photo from the front cover of her Bible and held it up. Mama and Papa smiled up
from a porch swing, their arms wrapped around each other. Alice stared at their
faces, letting their happiness ease the ache in her chest. They’d had a good
life, surrounded by two of the largest Creole families in Cane River. Alice
remembered family reunions that went on for days and days, with music and food
to rival the festival that blared outside. She remembered her Mama’s green eyes
and her Papa’s singing voice. She remembered how they whispered together in the
kitchen and how her Mama blushed when they got caught kissing. Alice wondered
if they’d known how blessed they were, or if it was just normal life for them.
Day by day, doing what came naturally, loving each other, loving their kids.

            When they’d died
in that accident, something had changed. Her Mama’s family had blamed her
Papa’s people for letting him drink too much that night. Her Papa’s family had
blamed her Mama for saying she had to get home to her babies instead of staying
the night with his folks.

            Alice closed her
eyes against the memory of the knock at her mamere’s screen door. It had been
almost morning, the pale light of dawn filtering through the sheer curtains.
Her brothers always got to sleep on the roll-away cots upstairs while Alice got
the divan in the living room. She was the littlest and didn’t mind curling up
tight so her feet didn’t dangle off the end. The screen was locked, but the
door was left open to the night breeze. Alice remembered the creak of the boards
as she tiptoed to the door, then the sound of her bare feet as she took off
running for mamere when she saw the policeman through the screen.

            In time, her
brothers were flung far and wide across the country, as if they’d sat down and
decided to each take a corner. And by the year Alice turned seventeen, she was
the only one left at home with a grandma too old to make sure she was being
raised up right. Mr. Perrault and his wife became her family. The bookstore
became her refuge. For an angry girl who felt invisible and forgotten, they
became her saving grace. She’d been born into a rich culture and a legacy of
love. It was up to her to keep it alive.

            Alice gently
placed the picture back in her Bible and set it by her bed. She touched the
rings at her neck, feeling the warmth of the gold under her fingers. She was a
quiet woman who didn’t like to leave her store, who preferred her kitties to
people. But tonight was different. She would dance tonight for her mama, for
her easy laugh and deep green eyes. She would dance for her papa, for his
singing voice and how he had an easier time speaking with French tourists than
his cousins from Georgia. She would dance for her brothers, who never came
home, and for her mamere who knew she was sad but couldn’t remember why. She
would dance for the two families torn apart by a terrible decision. She would
dance for what was left.

                                                            ***

            “Hey, you think
this shirt is okay?” Paul smoothed down the white, Armani dress shirt and stood
in front of Andy.

            Andy looked up
from his reading, confusion on his face. “You’re picking out clothes for
Monday’s meeting? I thought you were scanning in that book of Christina
Rossetti poetry.”

            “I already did. Maybe
the blue striped Lauren? That one is tailored. And you think tucked or
untucked?” Paul frowned down at himself. “I thought I’d wear jeans, but maybe I
should get the Westwood suit. With a nice belt. And the Gucci shoes. Or maybe just
the slacks and the vest?”

            Andy put down
his book. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention a clothing brand before.”

            “Maybe they
don’t all go together. Should the shoes be the same brand as the pants?” Paul
felt himself starting to sweat. It didn’t help that it was still at least
eighty degrees and the humidity wrapped his skin like damp towel.

            “What’s going
on? Are we getting visitors?” Andy tilted his head. “Not that girlfriend who
giggled all the time. I’m convinced she must’ve had some sort of compulsive
disorder.”

            “No, nobody’s
coming up here. I’m just headed out to the festival.” Paul rubbed his hands
together. His palms were sweating. He had no idea how he was going to dance
with Alice without her noticing.

            “And you’re just
going out there alone?” Andy crossed his arms.

            Paul shrugged. “I
won’t be out late. I’ve got to be up for church in the morning. You already
said you could hear it just fine inside.”

            He stood up and
stretched. “That was before I knew you had some hot date. I’d never let a
brother go into battle alone.”

            A grin crossed
his face. He didn’t want to seem immature, but it would be a lot easier to have
Andy along. If Alice didn’t show, he wouldn’t look so silly sitting there by
himself. Plus, Andy knew all the tricks to escaping the awkward situations that
popped up when folks knew you had more money than the president. He was sure
they’d be approached at least once tonight by someone who thought Paul gave out
money like business cards. “You’re just coming to watch me make a fool of
myself dancing.”

            “That, too.”
Andy gave him a light punch on the arm and crossed the hallway. “Oh, and keep
the jeans. This is some sort of hoedown right? Nobody will be impressed by your
three-piece suit.”

            Paul nodded. “You’re
right. She said she was wearing boots, so I should keep it informal.”

            “Who is? Back up a second.” He held up a hand. When
Paul didn’t say anything, Andy went on, “Or just start here and let me be all
confused. That’s fine. I suppose I’m confused about your social life most of
the time and still manage to survive.”

            “I don’t have a social life.
Nothing exciting going on here.” Paul threw it out with a laugh. But Andy just
cocked his head and fixed him with a stare.

            “I can’t believe
you’ve been here one day and you’ve already got a…” Andy’s mouth formed an ‘ohh,’
as he guessed the woman in question. “I don’t think that’s a wise idea, Paul. I’m
surprised she even agreed to meet you. She doesn’t want our company here. Getting
involved with her won’t make that go away. It will probably make it much, much
worse.”

            “Well, she
doesn’t know it’s me,” Paul said. “Not the real me. She thinks she’s meeting
Browning Wordsworth Keats.”

            Andy stood
perfectly still, staring at him. Paul recognized that look. It was the look
Andy had worn when they realized a million video games had been shipped to Canada
with instructions only in Chinese. It was the same look he’d had when one of
their top programmers had dropped out of sight, only to resurface in their
competitor’s company. “There’s nothing I can say to convince you that this is a
really bad idea?”

            Paul
straightened his cuffs and took a breath. “I think this will simplify
everything, actually. I realized I was fighting battles on every side, when I
don’t need to. I’m going to tell Alice who I am, she’ll realize I’m not out to
destroy the world, and maybe we can open this store without any more drama.”

            “Or she’ll feel
betrayed by the way you’ve lied to her face, decide that you’re worse than she
thought, and do everything she can to destroy you.”         

            Paul choked out
a laugh. “Wait a minute. Alice just believes that our culture is dying and she
wants to protect it.” He paused. “And she has a little block against technology
for some reason, but I think she’s just not aware of how it can be used to her
advantage.”

            Andy raked a
hand through his hair. “I don’t know if it’s because she’s Creole, like you, or
because she’s beautiful, but you’re completely ignoring the problem here. Alice
isn’t your great auntie who needs a lesson on using the Internet. People like
Alice already know what’s out there and they’re actively fighting it. She’s not
going to be impressed with a few flashy websites.”

            “No, but she
is
impressed by Browning Wordsworth Keats,” Paul said. Except for the part where
he ripped books apart. She would be livid when she discovered how the books get
scanned and uploaded. But he didn’t want to think about that right now.
“Listen, Alice isn’t a monster.”

            “No, she’s a
woman,” Andy said.

            Paul frowned. “I
never knew you to be misogynistic. She must have really rubbed you the wrong
way.”

            “My friend.”
Andy clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m trying to say that if
you
were a
woman, it wouldn’t be an issue.”

            “I don’t
follow.”

            His friend
looked him straight in the eye. “Are you telling me that you don’t have
feelings for her? And you’re positive she doesn’t have any for you?”

            Paul thought
about the moment he’d opened her first email, of the picture she sent of her
shelf, and of the time he saw her making faces at herself in the mirror. He
thought of how he’d wanted her to dump the boyfriend, how his stomach dropped
when he realized she was going to fight his new store, how he’d wanted to wrap
her in his arms when he’d seen the tears on her face.

            In the last two
days he’d spent sixty thousand dollars on a book he didn’t need and punched a
man he didn’t really know. In a few minutes he was going to reveal the secret
he’d carefully kept for two years. It didn’t make any sense. None of it did. He
obviously wasn’t thinking with his head, but his heart.

            “I don’t know
what she feels,” Paul said.

            “Oh, boy,” Andy said.
“I knew the day would come when I’d watch you join the ranks of the love-struck
zombies. I just didn’t know it was going to happen here.”

            “I’m not--” Paul
cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure what he was. “I’m not a zombie. This is a
calculated business move to help our new store.”

            “Uh huh. Well,
let me go change and then we can see how this new business move goes.” Andy
stopped at the doorway to his bedroom. “But if I had to guess, I would say this
is going to get a lot uglier before it gets better. If it gets better.”

            Paul walked to
the window and looked out toward the stage. Maybe Alice was already there,
looking for BWK. His stomach rolled. He hadn’t been this nervous in years. Not
when that actress took him to the Oscars. Not when he accepted the award for best
Online Game Play of the Year before the Academy of Interactive Arts and
Sciences. . Not on his last date, that was for sure.

                                                            ***

            Alice turned and
gave herself a long look. The tall, standing mirror showed the reflection of a young,
pretty woman. She belted the waist of her teal, Western-style shirtdress with
red embroidery on the hem and pockets, accentuating her hourglass figure. A
scuffed pair of red cowboy boots replaced her usual vintage pumps. She tucked
the rings into her shirt. The only thing left was a smile. Alice grinned at her
reflection. There was nothing she could do about the lawsuit at that very
minute, but it was hard not to worry. She leaned forward, examining her lashes
and pressing her lips together. She wondered if she needed more makeup. Suddenly
she remembered the first time she met Paul.

            She sighed. She
was excited to meet BWK and couldn’t stop imagining this mysterious book lover.
But at the same time, Paul crept into every thought. She wondered what he was
doing tonight. Probably having a party. She’d never know because of the noise
level of the festival right outside. Or maybe he was going out with friends. He
was from Natchitoches and must have loads of friends here.