unsavory
individuals, and he smoked marijuana. I was obliged to whip him at
least three times a week. Quite often, he even failed to come home—he
stayed out all night with fringe-element friends."
Milton had curly hair and looked like a laborer of
some sort. Skip had never in her life heard anyone—especially
anyone who looked like him—talk this way.
" Worried us to death," said his mother.
"And such a smart boy. He finished two years at UNO, did you
know that? But then he disappeared and didn't come back for a while."
"Somehow or other, he managed to meet Miss Reed
Hebert. Neither Josie nor I will ever have the slightest notion how
he did it. She civilized him as no one else had been able to do. We
watched her turn him into a different person altogether. At this
moment, a good friend of his is dying of AIDS—a neighborhood boy,
two blocks away. This neighborhood. AIDS.
" This young man is as red-blooded as I am. He
contracted this disease by using needles. That is correct. In this
neighborhood. I stress that this boy is not a homosexual—this thing
could have happened to Dennis. It did not because of Reed Hebert."
He set his lips in a grim line, and Skip wasn't sure
she didn't hear regret in his voice. She thought he had probably
predicted it and hated to be proved wrong.
" As it happens, I was talking to Mrs. Sugar
Hebert when the kidnap occurred. I had called Dennis to tell him
about his " friend Justin—the boy who is ill—and Mrs. Hebert
answered the phone."
"What kidnap, Mr. Poucher? What did you mean by
that?"
"That is what happened, of course. Surely the
police have figured this out."
Josie said, "Did he mention green people like to
control things?" Skip thought she was trying to be playful, but
it wasn't working.
As always, Milton ignored her. "We will soon be
receiving a ransom note—that is, Mrs. Hebert will. These people
could not get a cent from the Fouchers." His voice was smug.
" This friend—Justin. Could you give me his
address?"
"You wish to visit Justin? What on earth for?"
" I want to see Justin and any of Dennis's other
friends."
Both the Fouchers looked furious—Skip couldn't
think why, but she thought it had to do with the control Josie had
mentioned. Blue person or not, she shared her husband's world, and
very likely his reality. Perhaps they wanted to be the only sources,
the world's greatest living experts on Dennis Foucher, dope fiend.
" We will be glad to comply," said Milton,
"with anything the police desire. However, we know of no other
friends of Dennis's."
His anger was so strong, so naked, she found it
uncomfortable remaining in the room even long enough to get Justin
Arceneaux's address.
If I lived with these two, she thought, drugs might
seem very attractive indeed. In fact, they do right now.
She also found herself thinking new thoughts about
Reed—most of them respectful. Boys from families like this one
simply did not marry into Uptown families.
How on earth had Reed met Dennis? And, more
important, how had she found the courage to bring him home? There
must be a little outlaw in her, Skip thought, and she liked that. But
she thought it must be deeply buried; it certainly didn't jibe with
anything else she'd heard about Reed.
As she was leaving she said, "Can I ask you one
thing? Do you know Nina Phillips?"
Milton Foucher turned red. "I don't believe I
do."
" She works at the restaurant. Says she's your
cousin."
" Dennis probably told her that. I am afraid the
boy does not know the meaning of veracity. If he were here right now,
I swear I would whip him again."
Skip sneaked a look at
Josie. Her face looked as used-up as the crumpled tissue she
clutched.
* * *
Justin Arceneaux's family and friends were gathered
in the living room, as if he'd already died. A buffet table in the
dining room was piled high. The sadness in the air was like a heavy
fog on the river. As Skip entered the house, she wanted to run, or
claim to be an Avon lady, to do anything
individuals, and he smoked marijuana. I was obliged to whip him at
least three times a week. Quite often, he even failed to come home—he
stayed out all night with fringe-element friends."
Milton had curly hair and looked like a laborer of
some sort. Skip had never in her life heard anyone—especially
anyone who looked like him—talk this way.
" Worried us to death," said his mother.
"And such a smart boy. He finished two years at UNO, did you
know that? But then he disappeared and didn't come back for a while."
"Somehow or other, he managed to meet Miss Reed
Hebert. Neither Josie nor I will ever have the slightest notion how
he did it. She civilized him as no one else had been able to do. We
watched her turn him into a different person altogether. At this
moment, a good friend of his is dying of AIDS—a neighborhood boy,
two blocks away. This neighborhood. AIDS.
" This young man is as red-blooded as I am. He
contracted this disease by using needles. That is correct. In this
neighborhood. I stress that this boy is not a homosexual—this thing
could have happened to Dennis. It did not because of Reed Hebert."
He set his lips in a grim line, and Skip wasn't sure
she didn't hear regret in his voice. She thought he had probably
predicted it and hated to be proved wrong.
" As it happens, I was talking to Mrs. Sugar
Hebert when the kidnap occurred. I had called Dennis to tell him
about his " friend Justin—the boy who is ill—and Mrs. Hebert
answered the phone."
"What kidnap, Mr. Poucher? What did you mean by
that?"
"That is what happened, of course. Surely the
police have figured this out."
Josie said, "Did he mention green people like to
control things?" Skip thought she was trying to be playful, but
it wasn't working.
As always, Milton ignored her. "We will soon be
receiving a ransom note—that is, Mrs. Hebert will. These people
could not get a cent from the Fouchers." His voice was smug.
" This friend—Justin. Could you give me his
address?"
"You wish to visit Justin? What on earth for?"
" I want to see Justin and any of Dennis's other
friends."
Both the Fouchers looked furious—Skip couldn't
think why, but she thought it had to do with the control Josie had
mentioned. Blue person or not, she shared her husband's world, and
very likely his reality. Perhaps they wanted to be the only sources,
the world's greatest living experts on Dennis Foucher, dope fiend.
" We will be glad to comply," said Milton,
"with anything the police desire. However, we know of no other
friends of Dennis's."
His anger was so strong, so naked, she found it
uncomfortable remaining in the room even long enough to get Justin
Arceneaux's address.
If I lived with these two, she thought, drugs might
seem very attractive indeed. In fact, they do right now.
She also found herself thinking new thoughts about
Reed—most of them respectful. Boys from families like this one
simply did not marry into Uptown families.
How on earth had Reed met Dennis? And, more
important, how had she found the courage to bring him home? There
must be a little outlaw in her, Skip thought, and she liked that. But
she thought it must be deeply buried; it certainly didn't jibe with
anything else she'd heard about Reed.
As she was leaving she said, "Can I ask you one
thing? Do you know Nina Phillips?"
Milton Foucher turned red. "I don't believe I
do."
" She works at the restaurant. Says she's your
cousin."
" Dennis probably told her that. I am afraid the
boy does not know the meaning of veracity. If he were here right now,
I swear I would whip him again."
Skip sneaked a look at
Josie. Her face looked as used-up as the crumpled tissue she
clutched.
* * *
Justin Arceneaux's family and friends were gathered
in the living room, as if he'd already died. A buffet table in the
dining room was piled high. The sadness in the air was like a heavy
fog on the river. As Skip entered the house, she wanted to run, or
claim to be an Avon lady, to do anything
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