Read Online Snow on the Bayou: A Tante Lulu Adventure by Sandra Hill - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sandra Hill
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Emelie made the designer masks.
Holy shit! What were the chances of this kind of coincidence happening? For a blip of a second, he wondered if Tante Lulu might be lurking around the corner, having planned the whole thing.
Now that he thought about it, he could see Em designing Mardi Gras masks. Her two passions, aside from her passion for him, had been art and singing… the blues mostly. He’d even bought her a fancy wooden box filled with colored pencils for her sixteenth birthday, along with a boxed set of Bessie Smith CDs, and he hadn’t even shoplifted them. Instead, he’d worked his butt off, dawn to dusk, on his grandfather’s shrimp boat one whole weekend.
He stood frozen in place, wondering if he should go in or not. There was a lot of history between him and Emelie Gaudet, and some of it not very pleasant. He’d carried an angry chip on his shoulders for a lot of years, courtesy of Em. Did he want to stir up that old hornet’s nest?
But then, he recalled that Em had married within months of his having left Louisiana seventeen years ago. To his cousin Bernie, the geek, no less. She was probablyfat with a bunch of kids by now. Hell, her kids might even be as old as he and Em had been when they were screwing each other like Energizer bunnies.
With that thought in mind, he opened the door and stepped inside.
Big mistake!
Chapter Five
Tears of a clown, or was that a SEAL?…
C age stepped into the colorful shop and stopped dead in his tracks at the double whammy standing before him. Twin boys. Just when he’d been wondering if Em had children, there stood before him not one, but two dark-haired, dark-eyed Cajun mini-Ems.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” one of them asked.
The other twin elbowed the first and asked, “How may we help you, sir?”
The first twin elbowed the second right back, though harder, and muttered, “I was about to say that.”
“Dweeb!”
“Dork!”
As one they turned to face him, realizing how inappropriate their bickering was. Their faces went comically blank. “Welcome to E & B Designs, where every day is Mardi Gras,” they sing-songed.
Cage bit back a laugh.
They were identical twins… well, almost identical. Tall and lean. Gangly. Anywhere from thirteen to fifteen years old, he would guess. They both wore braces and St. Ambrose Football T-shirts tucked into well-worn, holey jeans. St. Ambrose was a Catholic boys’ school in New Orleans.
“Um. Just lookin’ around,” Cage said. “That okay?”
“Sure. Our mother is part-owner of this shop.”
“She must be very talented.”
“She is.”
“I’m Mike,” offered the twin with a bruise on his cheekbone that was turning yellow. Probably a football injury.
“And I’m Max,” the other twin said. He had an Alfalfa-type cowlick growing on the back of his head.
Cage reached across the counter to shake their hands. “Justin LeBlanc. People call me Cage.”
“How come?” Mike asked. Never let it be said that teenagers had tact.
“Because I’m Cajun. Born and bred on the bayou, before I moved away.”
“No shit!” Max exclaimed.
Mike elbowed his brother and said, “You know what Mom said.”
“Sorry,” Max said to Cage.
Cage grinned. “I’ve heard worse.”
“Where do you live now?”
“California. I’m just visiting.”
“Lots of people come to N’awlins for Carnival. Even from around the world,” Mike said. “There was a guy here this morning from China.”
“Japan,” Mike corrected.
“Whatever!” Max shot his brother a glower.
“Hey, are you a Navy SEAL?” Mike asked.
“Oh, wow!” Max added.
“Huh?”
How would they know that?
he wondered, then saw the direction of their eyes.
Well, duh!
Normally SEALs didn’t announce themselves with T-shirt logos and such, but it had been cool this morning and he’d grabbed a windbreaker that said U.S. NAVY SEALS with an official emblem on the front. Actually, most SEALs carried, even when not on duty, and the jacket concealed the
Holy shit! What were the chances of this kind of coincidence happening? For a blip of a second, he wondered if Tante Lulu might be lurking around the corner, having planned the whole thing.
Now that he thought about it, he could see Em designing Mardi Gras masks. Her two passions, aside from her passion for him, had been art and singing… the blues mostly. He’d even bought her a fancy wooden box filled with colored pencils for her sixteenth birthday, along with a boxed set of Bessie Smith CDs, and he hadn’t even shoplifted them. Instead, he’d worked his butt off, dawn to dusk, on his grandfather’s shrimp boat one whole weekend.
He stood frozen in place, wondering if he should go in or not. There was a lot of history between him and Emelie Gaudet, and some of it not very pleasant. He’d carried an angry chip on his shoulders for a lot of years, courtesy of Em. Did he want to stir up that old hornet’s nest?
But then, he recalled that Em had married within months of his having left Louisiana seventeen years ago. To his cousin Bernie, the geek, no less. She was probablyfat with a bunch of kids by now. Hell, her kids might even be as old as he and Em had been when they were screwing each other like Energizer bunnies.
With that thought in mind, he opened the door and stepped inside.
Big mistake!
Chapter Five
Tears of a clown, or was that a SEAL?…
C age stepped into the colorful shop and stopped dead in his tracks at the double whammy standing before him. Twin boys. Just when he’d been wondering if Em had children, there stood before him not one, but two dark-haired, dark-eyed Cajun mini-Ems.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” one of them asked.
The other twin elbowed the first and asked, “How may we help you, sir?”
The first twin elbowed the second right back, though harder, and muttered, “I was about to say that.”
“Dweeb!”
“Dork!”
As one they turned to face him, realizing how inappropriate their bickering was. Their faces went comically blank. “Welcome to E & B Designs, where every day is Mardi Gras,” they sing-songed.
Cage bit back a laugh.
They were identical twins… well, almost identical. Tall and lean. Gangly. Anywhere from thirteen to fifteen years old, he would guess. They both wore braces and St. Ambrose Football T-shirts tucked into well-worn, holey jeans. St. Ambrose was a Catholic boys’ school in New Orleans.
“Um. Just lookin’ around,” Cage said. “That okay?”
“Sure. Our mother is part-owner of this shop.”
“She must be very talented.”
“She is.”
“I’m Mike,” offered the twin with a bruise on his cheekbone that was turning yellow. Probably a football injury.
“And I’m Max,” the other twin said. He had an Alfalfa-type cowlick growing on the back of his head.
Cage reached across the counter to shake their hands. “Justin LeBlanc. People call me Cage.”
“How come?” Mike asked. Never let it be said that teenagers had tact.
“Because I’m Cajun. Born and bred on the bayou, before I moved away.”
“No shit!” Max exclaimed.
Mike elbowed his brother and said, “You know what Mom said.”
“Sorry,” Max said to Cage.
Cage grinned. “I’ve heard worse.”
“Where do you live now?”
“California. I’m just visiting.”
“Lots of people come to N’awlins for Carnival. Even from around the world,” Mike said. “There was a guy here this morning from China.”
“Japan,” Mike corrected.
“Whatever!” Max shot his brother a glower.
“Hey, are you a Navy SEAL?” Mike asked.
“Oh, wow!” Max added.
“Huh?”
How would they know that?
he wondered, then saw the direction of their eyes.
Well, duh!
Normally SEALs didn’t announce themselves with T-shirt logos and such, but it had been cool this morning and he’d grabbed a windbreaker that said U.S. NAVY SEALS with an official emblem on the front. Actually, most SEALs carried, even when not on duty, and the jacket concealed the
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