Miss Stake
C.G. Powell
Miss Stake
by
C. G. Powell
Edits by
Tawdra Kandle
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
C. G. Powell
Miss Stake
Copyright 2012 by C. G. Powell
When Tango asked if I wanted to go out for a snowball, I assumed that meant in his truck, not the USS Sink-and-Swim.
“Explain to me again why we’re taking the pirogue instead of The Great Wildebeest?” Arms over my head, I grumbled as I helped Tango carry the pirogue to the edge of the water.
“The Great Wildebeest, as you call it, has a broken A/C. I thought it’d be cooler to take the boat. There’ll be shade and a breeze every now and then.”
This was not the first time Tango’s 1990 F150 sat silent in my driveway while we heaved the boat out to the water. That blue beast of his had me walking the roadsides to get to school on more than one occasion. Nonetheless, he had a blue beast and offered to tote me places which was more than I had at the present—not that my parents couldn’t afford to buy me a car. My mom was a lawyer and my dad owned half the shrimp factories in the surrounding parishes with his brother.
They wanted to use the whole car thing as a life lesson—you can’t appreciate what you have if it’s always given to you. Some things I needed to earn on my own, and a car was one of them. Where was this life lesson when my brothers started to drive? I think the real life lesson here was to never be the only girl or the youngest. I happened to be both.
You would have thought after four boys my parents would have just stopped. I’m a testament to the Benoit family tenacity. And with all of my brothers either married or at college, I was the only one left for them to dote on. Yay, me.
Hot was the first thought that came to mind when I turned to the side and hung my legs over the edge of the pirogue. Muggy would be the next as I laid back, took a deep breath, and stuck my toes in the warm swamp water. The clouds rolled in from the gulf like they did every day, promising our usual afternoon shower. My mind wandered as I guessed what animal shape would appear next, completely ignoring the sound of Tango’s voice.
Tango prodded me with the paddle and pointed to the ripple in the water where two eyes stared back at me. “Ronnie, um...Ronnie. Veronica, Big Head’s coming. You might want to get all of your appendages back in the boat.”
“Damn gator,” I huffed, pulled my legs in and slapped the water with my paddle until his eyes submerged below.
Big Head had been terrorizing this part of the bayou since I was a kid. Ironically, he’d also managed to stay hidden from hunters every gator season. God knows how old he was, but one thing was for sure, he was thirteen feet of horror and as crafty as they came. Every kid in the area had grown up with the fear of being stolen by the Roux-Ga-Roux or eaten by Big Head. It was the way the adults kept the kids from wandering too far from the house. At seventeen, I no longer believed in the Roux-Ga-Roux, but Big Head still gave me the willies.
We pulled the boat up the muddy bank behind old man Lirette’s place and walked the short trail through the far side of his property. Eyes glued on the dilapidated old house, we watched for movement behind the heavy curtains. Old man Lirette didn’t like people on his property and was known for shooting rock salt at trespassers.
I still had scars from our last encounter, but I guess that’s what made taking this route more exciting. It was worth the trouble to get to Fran’s. The stand might not have been much to look at with its chipped yellow paint and faded flavor sign, but the line out front was for a good reason—they had the best snowballs in town.
Tango rolled his eyes. “Just our luck, look who’s here,” he sneered.
Once I spotted the brand new red Land Rover in the parking lot, it didn’t take me long to figure out the object of Tango’s discomfort—Remy Dubois, Tango’s nemesis since preschool.
Nemesis might not be the right word to describe the relationship between these two. The constant love-hate, frienemy bond they shared was more complicated than a paranormal romance between a vampire and mermaid. I’m sure the fact that Tango’s dad worked for Remy’s didn’t help either.
Remy stood at the window dressed in plaid cargos and a light blue polo. I wanted to run my hands through those short brown curls that graced the top of his head and stare into those baby blues. Not that I would ever let anyone know this; Remy was way out of my league, and Tango would never forgive me.
“I see he brought his minions.” Tango gave me a side grin and elbowed my arm as we walked to the front of the stand.
“Oh, please. Don’t act like you’re unhappy to see Minette. John, I can do without. He kind of gives me the creeps.”
Outside of school, Remy spent most of his time with his cousins. John was two years older than the rest of us. His sandy blonde hair and the Dubois blue eyes complimented his tan skin. If not for his constant scowl, one could say he was quite handsome.
Although Minette looked much like her brother—bleach blond hair, turquoise eyes, and a petite pixie-like frame. Her personality was the yang to her brother’s yin. She was always cheerful and quick to give a compliment—I hated her, or at least I tried to, but all that happy kept getting in the way. It wasn’t hard to see why Tango had always taken a liking to her—then again, what boy hadn’t?
“How’s it going, Remy?” I asked.
He cocked his head to side and smiled. “Just the two I wanted to talk to.”
“If this is about the coon that ran across the stage at the ring ceremony yesterday, I plead the fifth.” The smirk across Tango’s face said it all. Guilty.
“No, nothing like that. I might have been the class president, but that was funny as hell.” Remy laughed then gave Tango a high-five before he stuck his hands in his pockets. “We were headed to the camp in Point au Chene and wanted to know if you and Veronica would like go with us.”
Tango gave me a sideways glance. “What’s the catch?”
“You know me too well. We’ve had a problem with poachers, so dad wanted me to check things out. I figured it might go faster if there was a second boat helping, plus Minette didn’t want to be the only girl.”
Crossing his arms, Tango pursed his lips and scrunched his nose. “What’s in it for me?”
Remy pulled a wad of twenties out of his pocket. “Three hundred for your time, gas, and use of your boat. Do we have a deal?”
“I don’t need your charity. Make it two and it’s a deal.” Tango extended his hand. This was not the first time Remy had tried to overpay Tango for helping out. If not for the fact that he needed to fix the A/C on the Wildebeest, I don’t think Tango would have accepted a single penny.
I should have been angry that neither of them asked if I had plans or even wanted to go for that matter. But it had been months since I visited my pawpaw, and his house was next to the Dubois camp.
“Anyone else going to be there?” I bit back my annoyance at the two of them.
Remy’s eyes shifted away from me. He rocked on his heels and whistled. I nudged his side with my elbow. “Don’t tell me you invited Brent.” Hands on my hips I eyed Remy, who still refused to make eye contact. I threw my hands in the air. “What the hell, Remy?”
I had only one word to describe my ex—mistake. Yep, Brent was the biggest mistake I ever made and the worst two weeks of my life. At one point I thought Tango was going to kill the self–centered ass. A month later and the wounds were still fresh in my mind.
“I had to. He may be a jerk, but he’s still my step brother.”
Jerk didn’t begin to describe Brent. To quote Minette’s warning at the beginning of the relationship, “Brent is a monster.”
“I’m not going,” I
said point blank then turned and walked away. I didn’t get far before Minette caught up with me and looped her arm through mine.
“Please, Ronnie. Don’t leave me alone with all of that testosterone.” She frowned and batted her eyes. We stopped walking. I let go of her arm and faced her.
Minette lived in New Orleans, and I was her only girlfriend when she visited Remy’s family. She and I were complete opposites, which was probably one of the reasons why we were friends. Her friends in New Orleans were more about status and the latest trends at that fancy private school she attended. But around me, she could be herself. All perkiness aside, Minette had a bit of a wild side, one I’m sure those plastics in New Orleans never got to see.
“Fine,” I huffed. “But don’t expect me to be nice or anything.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.” Minette smiled as we walked back toward the snowball stand.
Tango handed me a white styrofoam cup, containing my favorite flavors of shaved ice—half blue bubblegum and half spearmint. His apologetic look almost made up for the fact that I was about to spend the weekend with the last person on earth I wanted to spend the weekend with. Everyone in the group hated Brent, with the exception of John, who still happened to be friends with him.
After chatting for a few minutes, we departed. Remy kept smiling and looking my way the whole time he and Tango talked. As much as I would have like to read more into it, I figured it was because my lips and tongue had turned a lovely shade of blue-green from the snowball.
It was a quiet boat ride back to my house. I was still upset with Remy for putting me in this position and confused that Tango went along with it. He needed money, but spending the weekend with Brent under the same roof, and not killing him, was going to be a challenge—even for Tango.
I said my good-byes from the front door then went inside to pack for the weekend. The scent of gumbo drifted through the house and mingled with the aromatic smell of rice that poured from the rice cooker. It was one of my favorite smells, reminding me of the trips to my grandparents’ house after church on Sundays.
Ever since my mawmaw passed away, the Sunday dinners and card games had ceased. Pawpaw sold their home in town and moved into their camp down in Point au Chene.
I walked up to my mom in the kitchen and hugged her from the back. Fridays were always special; it was the one day of the week that mom had half a day off, and she cooked the best meals ever.
“Mrs. Dubois called. She wanted to make sure you were going to the camp this weekend with Minette.”
“I’ll call her and let her know I’m going. Brent is going to be there,” I added as an afterthought.
“I’m sorry, honey.” Mom put the spoon on the counter and hugged me. “Are you going to be okay?”
My shoulders dropped and I let out a deep breath. “I’ll be fine...as long as they keep all the guns and kitchen knives locked up.”
Mom rolled her eyes and smiled, then hugged me again. It was moments like this that I was glad Mom understood my dramatics.
“At least Tango will be there to keep an eye on you,” she murmured, turning her attention back to the pot on the stove.
I kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry. I promise to behave.” I pulled my phone out my pocket and dialed Mrs. Dubois as I walked toward my bedroom to pack.
After several reassuring yes ma’ams and a half-hearted promise not to harm her son, I hung up the phone and tossed it on my bed. The nerve of that woman—she might be the sweetest belle in town, but her son needed to fight his own battles.
I felt sorry for Remy. Ever since his father remarried last year, he had to put up with Brent. Lucky for him it wasn’t a 24/7 deal. It was as every other weekend, Christmas on odd years, and two months a summer kind of arrangement. At least Remy’s step mom was nice, which almost made up for Brent.
I stuffed the last of my clothes in my over-sized duffle and tossed it by the door then headed downstairs for supper. As I approached the kitchen, my dad had his arms around mom’s waist while he kissed the nape of her neck. Part of me smiled to see them still in love after all these years, but the kid in me was going eww...gross. I guess some things you never outgrow.
“There’s my favorite girl.” He released mom’s waist and opened his arms toward me.
“I’m your only girl,” I reminded him, accepting his hug. His eyes sparkled as he chuckled at my remark.
“Which brings me to my next subject. I don’t want you going out into the marsh with the boys. What they’re doing is unsafe, so keep yourself at the camp with Minette, you hear me?” His face hardened with his warning.
I stomped my foot and straightened my arms against my side. “Dad! I’m seventeen—stop treating me like a baby.”
“I’m serious, Ronnie Bear—stay out of it. Poachers are dangerous, and someone could get hurt. In fact, I’m tempted to call Mr. Dubois and talk him into letting the wildlife and fishery handle it.” He shook his finger at me then crossed his arms.
“It’s okay, Dad. We’re just going to do a little spying. We know not to confront the poachers.” Mom cleared her throat and glanced our way while she set the table—our cue to stop our rather loud discussion.
After dinner, I went straight to bed. Tango wanted to get an early start; not that Point au Chene was far, only about an hour away, but he wanted to do some crabbing before we met up with everyone else. I tossed and turned most of the night. A nagging voice kept poking at my inner thoughts just as I would start to nod off. Beware, it cautioned from the edge of consciousness until my body finally gave in to sleep, ignoring the warning.
5:00 AM came sooner than I wished. I crawled out of bed and slammed my hand on the clock. I must have hit the snooze a couple of times, because it was 5:20 by the time I got out of bed, and Tango would be here in ten.
I stuck my tongue out at the mess that stared back at me in the mirror. My usual loose brown curls looked more like it belonged on a spider monkey as it frizzed straight out. I poked at the black circles under my eyes then wet my hair down and put it in a ponytail half pulled through the last loop. The doorbell rang before I was dressed, so I greeted Tango at the door wearing boxer shorts and a tank.
“Wow, Ronnie, you look like hell.”
“Thanks, Tango.” I rolled my eyes and led him to the kitchen. “It’s a good thing I don’t lack self-esteem or I might take that comment personally.” I pulled a box of cereal from the pantry while Tango grabbed a couple of bowls and spoons.
“Are you feeling okay?” He poured the cereal in his bowl and covered it in milk.
“I’m fine. I had a hard time falling asleep.” Head down, I pushed the floating marshmallows beneath the milk with my spoon.
“Bad dream?” Tango pried between bites.
“No, more like restlessness. My mind was going a hundred miles an hour, and I couldn’t get it to slow down.”
“Is this about Brent? You know you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
“Tango, it’s nothing. So stop badgering me already.” The too-sweet cereal hit my stomach like a brick and made me queasy.
“Fine, hurry up. We need to unhitch my boat and hook up your dad’s. He said I could use his as long as I promise not to take you with us to look for poachers.”
“This day just keeps getting better.” I made a face at the full bowl of cereal then got up and dumped its contents down the sink. Irritated, I went back to my room to change and get my bag.
