Bitter Root (15 page)

Griffith looked at the assortment of things on the ground. There
was a five-gallon bucket, two sets of heavy rubber gloves, a small ice chest,
twine, and some strange wire and net things that must be the traps.

“Could you use those bungee cords to strap the bucket down? Here,
take these first.” She handed over one pair of gloves, a helmet, and some
goggles.

Griffith pulled on the gloves, then attempted to fasten the bucket
to the front tray. The gloves made it quite a challenge. She stretched the cord
around the ungainly thing and tried hooking it to the tray. The metal end
barely missed her cheek as it snapped back. “Crap. I don’t think this is my
forte.”

Adi was busy attaching things in the back, but she looked up at
Griffith. “Oh, hold on. I’ll give you a hand.”

She made quick work of the bucket and slid into the wide saddle.

“Okay, let’s go. You climb on behind me and hold on. Put on your
helmet and goggles first.”

Griffith did as requested, feeling like a kid dressed for
Halloween. She slid into place behind Adi, enjoying the way her thighs snugged
tight against Adi’s and the feel of her chest pressed to Adi’s back. The big
bike roared to life and they took off across the field. At first, Griffith had
a death grip around Adi’s middle, but as she got used to the feeling of the
bike she eased back and began to enjoy the ride. It was over all too quick as
they stopped beside the first flooded field.

“We’ll set out traps in each paddy as we go along, then circle
back to start collecting. Here, watch how I set this up.”

Adi pulled the wire and net traps off the back of the bike and
shook them open. The wires crossed in the middle, locking in place and forming
a little wire tent over a square of netting. She pointed to the center of the
net. “We tie the bait right here. And a couple of weights too.”

She demonstrated, tying the weights and a chicken neck into the
center of the net. “We’ll set four traps in each paddy. So you set up two more
traps here and I’ll do another.”

Griffith gritted her teeth.
Tie
a chicken neck here, she says. Right.
Griff had traveled the world
for her work; she’d eaten things in other countries they’d never serve in
California. She could do this. She reached cautiously into the Ziploc of
chicken parts. They were warm and fragrant, not in a good way.
Gotta do it
. She pushed
her forearm against her nose, trying to tame the stench. Her stomach was about
to flip and make her lose her coffee.
Good
thing I’m not a breakfast eater
. She finally nabbed a slippery piece
of meat and dropped it unceremoniously onto the net.
Tie it
. She grabbed the two bits of string
in each hand, but tying them was virtually impossible with the cumbersome
gloves.
She made it look
so easy. It’s anything but.

Just then, a gust of wind blew one of Griffith’s curls across her
cheek, where it promptly stuck to the sweat accumulated there. Without
thinking, she started to sweep it away with her finger. Her chicken gut
dripping, glove wearing, stinky finger. She gagged.

“Time out. I don’t think I can do this,” she said.

Adi looked over at her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but Adi
found something particularly funny about the situation. She started belly
laughing so hard she doubled over.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your face. Oh my God, the look on your face is hysterical. Hang
on. I’ll do the chicken if you set up the traps. Deal?”

“Deal. How do I get this funk off my glove?”

That set Adi off on another round of guffaws. “Just go rinse them
off with the water in the cooler. Oh, Lord, you’re killing me.”

“I’m happy to amuse you, but I’m going to throw up if this stuff
isn’t gone, like yesterday.”

“I’ll help,” Adi said.

She had streaks of tears on her face, but hurried over with a cup
of melted ice water. She poured it over the gloves as Griffith vigorously
rubbed them together. Then Adi tenderly wiped the crud on Griff’s cheek away
with her thumb.

“Thanks, I’ll let you do the chicken. All I do is open the wires
and slip them into place?”

“Yeah, it’s simple.”

“Right.” Griffith was doubtful, but it really was as easy as Adi
said. They made quick work of setting up the traps. Then Adi directed Griff out
into the flooded field to set the traps down. She had to make sure they were as
flat on the ground as possible. The mud sucked at her waders as she walked from
spot to spot. It made Griffith think of the sanitation workers who went into
the sewers back home.
What
manner of filth is this? It feels like it wants to suck me right down. Just
don’t fall down. Don’t fall
.
The
Internet didn’t say shit about the mud factor. I’ll add some blazing editing to
that damn Wiki page
. It seemed like it took forever, but they
finished the first paddy and moved through the succession of fields until they
had no more traps. There were twenty-four in all.

“Now comes the fun part,” Adi said, “collecting our little
friends. Come on.”

They climbed on the bike and Adi kicked it into life. Then she
ran it full throttle back to the first paddy. Mud was flying out on either side
of the bike, slapping into Griffith’s legs.
Charming.
I managed not to fall, but now I’m getting the full mud bath at no extra
charge. People pay for this crap in LA.
She was happy to have the
helmet and goggles. Luckily, Adi was a sensible driver and didn’t attempt any
tricks. Griffith didn’t relish the idea of flying off the bike into the rice
field.

“Come on, let’s go get them.” Adi grabbed the bucket and handed
it to Griffith. “I’ll haul them up and you collect them in the bucket.”

They walked slowly out into the field to the first trap. Adi put
her good hand gently on the top that stuck out well above the water line. She
quickly lifted the whole thing clear of the water. The net dipped deeply in the
middle as it was raised, and in the bottom, several angry red crustaceans
flapped their tails and waved their claws.

“You want me to touch that? Are you kidding?”

“No, just hold one corner and put the opposite corner in the
bucket. Then we’ll shake them loose.”

They did just that with the first and all the other traps. When
they were done, the bucket was more than half full of crawfish. They rode back
to the truck and dumped the bucket into the big ice chest. As they rode between
fields, Griffith’s job was to steady the bucket now perched on the back tray.
When they finished, she couldn’t believe how tired she felt. The time seemed to
fly by. Her waders were caked in mud from the ankle down, and she knew she
looked a sight.
If my
friends could see me now.
She had mud in her hair, on her face, and
flaking off both forearms. She looked at Adi. Her waders had mud around the
ankles, but the rest of her was basically clean.
How did she manage that?
She reached down
and grabbed a fistful of mud.

“Don’t,” Adi said, backing away.

“Don’t what?” Griffith moved closer to her, mud dripping out of
her tight fist.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” She slapped her hand onto Adi’s
back, slinging mud from her shoulder to her hip.

“Hey. That wasn’t very nice. I didn’t even make you tie the
chicken necks.”

“Ugh.” She wrapped both muddy hands around Adi’s waist and held
her.

“You sure are a cute little swamp rat. Makes me want to kiss the
breath out of you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but only after you take a shower,” Adi said.

Adi dumped the last haul into the ice chest and tossed the empty
bucket into the back.

“Peel off your waders and gloves and toss them in the truck bed.
We can go hose down at the house and boil up these babies.”

“Sounds good. Did you happen to bring anything to drink?”

“Oh, sure. There’s water and beer in the small cooler in the cab.
Help yourself.”

Griffith went straight to the cooler, desperate to wet her
parched throat. She took an icy cold bottle of Abita and popped the top.

“Can I grab something for you?” she asked, looking back at Adi.
She was bent over, detaching the chicken necks from the nets, her dark hair
falling over the side of her face. The muscles in her arms bunched and relaxed
with the effort. She was gorgeous. Griffith leaned against the truck and
watched unashamedly.

Adi must have noted the still silence. She looked up quickly from
her work and caught Griffith watching. She blushed a deep red and smiled. “You
like what you see?”

“You know, I kind of do. Even the big line of mud down your
shoulder.”

Adi tried looking to see behind her shoulder, but just ended up
twisting and showing more of her long, lean body to Griffith.

“I like this game. But seriously, can I grab you something to
drink?”

Adi stood up and smiled again. “Sure, I’ll have what you’re
having. Looks good.”

“It is. Strawberry, no less.”

“My favorite.”

“I think it’s going to be mine too. Can we sit in the shade
somewhere?”

“Yeah, but just for a sec. We’ll need to get the catch back
pretty quick. Come on.”

They walked to a nearby live oak and sat down. The breeze began
to kick up, which Griffith was grateful for. That had been hot, physical work,
something she hadn’t done outside a gym in a long time. She leaned back against
the rough bark of the tree and watched Adi. She was leaning forward with her
head on her knees.

“Whatcha thinking, Lincoln?”

“Nothing really. I was just thinking about how easy it is to be
with you. I feel happy spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you too. Thanks for cutting your hand.
You’ve made the last two days really special.”

“Good. I’m glad they’ve been special. I’m not glad about the cut
though. It stings like a mother right now.”

“You didn’t reinjure it, did you?”

“No, it’s just all the movement and sweat. It will be fine in a
few minutes.” She tipped her bottle back and finished the beer. “You almost
done? We have to get those crawfish into a nice pot of boiling water before too
long,” she said.

“Yeah, I’m nearly done.”

“You do like to eat crawfish, right?”

Griffith swallowed her last sip. “Um, sure. I guess. They were great
in the étouffée. I’m sure they’ll be just as good boiled.”

“Better. They’ll be so good you won’t believe it.”

“I can’t wait. This is hungry work.”

“Yeah, it is. Let’s head back.”

They loaded up the bike and drove back to Bertie’s house. They
enjoyed a comfortable silence, both worn out from the adventure. Bertie was
sitting out on the porch as if she were waiting for them.

“Is she expecting us?”

“Well, sure. She’s probably got the water all ready for the
crawfish. She knew we’d be bringing back a mess of them. I always do. Let’s
take them around the back and clean them before we hose down. Then you can
shower first while I help Bertie get the other stuff in the boil.”

“Okay.”

They rinsed the crawfish and then left them near the huge pot
Bertie had boiling on a propane burner in the back driveway. Adi poured in
seasonings from a nearby box. Griffith saw potatoes and onion slices in the
roiling water. The scent was rich and spicy, and Griffith heard her stomach
growl at the thought of the deliciousness to come.

“Here. I’ll hose you down first, then you do me,” Adi said,
aiming the hose her way.

Griffith held up a hand. “Wait. Hold on a second.” Then she
screamed as the stream of cold water pelted her side. She ran up the porch
steps. “Let me get my shoes off.”

“Okay, but hurry. I need to get the corn ready to go in.”

Griffith kicked off her sneakers and jumped down into the grass.
She tensed, waiting for the cold water. When it hit, it still shook her, but
she managed not to cry out. She dutifully turned and allowed Adi to wash the
bigger patches of mud off her clothes.

When she was finished spraying her down, Adi tossed Griffith a
towel from a box near the stairs. She kicked off her shoes and handed over the
hose. “Okay, now you do me.”

Griffith squeezed the handle and sent a stream of water directly
into her chest. The white T-shirt did little to hide Adi’s nipples as they
reacted to the water. They were on the large side and incredibly distracting.
Griffith imagined slipping one into her mouth and…“Turn around. I want to get
your shoulder.”

Adi dutifully turned, unaware of what her body was doing to
Griffith. But it didn’t help. When the water hit the well-defined muscles of
her back and shoulders, Griffith nearly lost it. She loosened her grip on the
hose until the water was barely a trickle. Adi looked back at her, puzzled.

“I’m freezing. I’m going to hit the shower.” Griffith dropped the
hose and practically ran through the house to the sanctuary of the bathroom.
She peeled off her soaked clothes and jumped into the shower. The warm water
helped her clear her head and get a grip.
What
do you think you’re doing here? This isn’t the time or place to be fantasizing.
And what am I supposed to put on after my shower? I’m not going to be walking
around in a towel.

Just then there was a knock on the door. “Here are some sweats
for you to wear while the clothes wash. I’m going to leave them just by the
door. Don’t worry, Bertie and I will be out back. The house is yours for now.”

“Thanks. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“No rush. We’ll be busy with the crawfish.”

Griffith felt a rush of relief. Maybe she hadn’t completely made
a fool of herself out there. Adi seemed perfectly fine, and she was incredibly
grateful for the dry clothes. She finished her shower and dressed in the
comfortable, if large, sweats.
Sweats.
I haven’t worn sweats since high school. I feel like an overgrown toddler.
She
checked her reflection in the mirror.
Yes,
indeed, a thirtysomething, two-year-old. I wonder if this look will get Adi’s
attention?
Knowing she didn’t have a choice in attire, she gathered
up her clothes and wrapped them in her towel, then went in search of the
washing machine. When she found it she saw that Adi had left the lid up and her
clothes were already inside. She dumped her load in and started the wash.