Death's Excellent Vacation (18 page)

IT was clear that Sheriff Moore wasn’t going to listen to her, clear as a bell rung in church at high noon. The old man was gonna get himself killed for sure. Better stated, he was gonna get eaten. Her conscience wouldn’t allow for that; her mother had brought her up right, after all. Plus, these beasts were encroaching on her hometown. Had taken a couple of young kids in high school that were making out after dark by the lake. Wrong place, wrong time, and tore ’em up so badly, according to the sheriff, that their families didn’t have much left to put in a casket. Now that was just
wrong
.

Jessica walked to the refrigerator and opened it, looking for more lemonade. Her cell phone was pressed to her ear, and she glanced up at the clock. At two in the afternoon, Raph wouldn’t be up yet. When it rolled over to voice mail, she muttered a curse under her breath and hit redial. “Answer the danged phone!”

“What?” Raphael said in a sleepy, irritated tone. “I was working till four.”

“I’m sorry,” Jessica said, squeezing her eyes shut. True, her brother had been working at the strip club until four, but he hadn’t gotten to sleep until eight and still had company in his bed. “I . . . I . . . just need to ask you a favor.”

She heard Raphael get up and start moving.

“Stay out of my business, boo. You might see what you ain’t ready to deal with, calling me all early . . . You supposed to be psychic, so you just oughta check if—”

“My bad, but I need to ask you for—”

“Some money.”

Quiet settled on the line between them.

“Never mind,” she said, hurt, about to hang up.

“Now there you go, all proud. I have been waiting for the last two years for you to just call me up and let me help you, boo. What’s the matter with you? You’re my baby sister, so why you feel like you can’t ask me for help? That hurts me, Jess.”

“I’m trying to hold on to Momma’s trailer,” she said as her voice cracked. “I’m trying to hold on to everything she was and did, and I’m not able . . . Then I gave the sheriff a tip, like she used to, and he thinks I’m crazy.”

“You ain’t hardly crazy,” her brother said, soothing her with his voice. “You was so good you used to scare Momma. I know that to be a fact.”

Jessica nodded, sniffed hard, and wiped her nose. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where all that came from.” The tears came from a deep-down pain, something she’d shoved down so far that she hadn’t remembered where she’d even buried it.

“I do,” Raphael said bluntly, but his tone was still gentle. “You’re twenty-two years old, ain’t had no fun, been living like an old lady; that’s what’s wrong with you.”

“Yeah, well, I lost my job . . . Nobody around here is hiring, really. Can’t even put up my college money anymore, much less—”

“I been done
told
you, girl, that if you just fill out the application to where you wanna go, I got you semester by semester—we family!”

“But that’s not right,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “You have things you wanna do with your life . . . like go to Paris and—”

“I work these poles like my ass is greased lightning, honey chile, I’ll have you know. I am going to Paris again, this weekend, and will be there until fashion week, so I
am
living my dreams. You worry about living yours, boo.”

Jessica smiled and wiped her face, and then chuckled. “You are such a hot mess.”

“I am hot to death ’cause I drop it like it’s hot . . . So what you need?”

She couldn’t answer him for a moment. She really hadn’t thought out what she would do or what she needed. All she was sure of was that she wanted to go to New Orleans to help people survive what was hunting in their bayou.

“I honestly don’t know,” she murmured, staring out the window. “I wanted to get away . . . go to New Orleans for the weekend, but—”

“Only on two conditions,” Raphael said.

“What?” Jessica said, a new smile tugging at her cheek.

“You go to the bank and take some of that money that’s gathering dust in your college savings account . . . Get it before that sucker crashes and I have to go down there and hurt somebody—and you tell me how much you took out to go to New Orleans. I’ma send you a replacement check that you can cash when you get back. That’s the logistics—but I want you to promise me that when you come back, you’ll register for college, at least the local community college, for the fall semester.”

“But, I—”

“Uh-uh, Miss Thang. I’ve been listening to excuses for the last four years. You take your pretty little behind down there and register, since you’re jobless and all now. Go to school!”

“But how am I gonna keep the lights on and pay for food, Raph? Be serious.”

“You get you some student aid or whatever, and you let me worry about lights and food—you can work on campus; you’re below the poverty line. Anyway, that’s condition one . . . My help comes with love-strings attached. You’re too smart and got too much going for you to be wasting time like this,” he added with emphasis.

Jessica leaned against the refrigerator and smiled. “Okay. I’ll go to school, but I’ll be looking for a job.”

“Fine by me, drive yourself crazy, if you wanna, but the registering for classes in September is not up for negotiation, girlfriend.”

She closed her eyes and tried to modulate the amusement in her voice. She loved it when her big brother fussed at her . . . It was pure love that reminded her of her mother’s tough-love tactics.

“Any more conditions?” Jessica asked, then took a slow sip of her lemonade.

“No, just the one I’ve been on you about for too long. I want you to get laid while you’re in the Big Easy; just be sure to use a condom—don’t need no babies or STD drama while you’re trying to get an education.”

Jessica spit out her lemonade and began coughing.

“That’s right, I said it,” Raphael said, now laughing. “Tell the truth and shame the devil. I may not be as good as you and Momma on the second sight, but I ain’t blind. When’s the last time you got some, girl?”

“Why you all up in my business, Raphael!” Jessica squeaked. “I don’t do that to you.”

“Huh . . . Oh, so now I’m
Raphael
, not Raph. Uhmmm-hmmm . . . and yes you
do
do that to me. See, I have to use words; you just bust into my room and look around with your third eye. Same difference.”

“I do not!” Jessica shouted, laughing. Her face burned, and she pushed away from the refrigerator and began walking through the trailer.

“Yes, you do—don’t lie. But we ain’t talking about me; we happen to be talking about you. Last boyfriend I remember was in high school, senior prom. Then a few fly-by-night dates, and I could tell you didn’t give any of those half-thug-wannabe knuckleheads any. Then you even stopped going to the clubs looking . . . Last I heard you’d stopped going to church, too, like Momma—most of them in there was either already married, old, or would like me better, tell the truth.”

“You ain’t never lied,” she said, stopping by her favorite chair and flopping down in it.

“I want you to enjoy life, boo,” Raphael said in a gentler tone.

“I’m doing okay.”

“No, you’re not,” he said softly.

Jessica held the phone close to her ear and swallowed hard.

“You want what we all want . . . a prince.” He let out a long breath and then allowed his voice to dip down low. “That sure ain’t what I dragged home with me last night . . . but in a tight spot, he’ll do.”

She chuckled sadly and just shook her head.

“But you want the full package—the three Hs . . . somebody who’s gonna be honest, honorable, and
hetero
. . .”

“Yeah, I do,” she murmured, allowing her shoulders to sag.

“You don’t want to give it away and then find out he lied . . . or some other mess, right?”

Jessica just nodded and released a sad sigh.

“But since you see so much . . .”

“I see the drama coming before they open their mouths.” She sprawled out in the chair with her eyes closed, needing to hear her brother’s comforting wisdom. “The older I get, Raph, the more I can see—the more I can see in advance, the lonelier it is.”

“That’s why you need to get out of Port Arthur. Ain’t nobody there for you . . . That’s why I had to leave.”

“But I don’t know if I can do the third thing you asked me to do while just on a weekend, you know?”

“I love you, too, boo . . . I know you ain’t like me . . . and I appreciate the delicate way you tried to put that. I was just messing with you—you are definitely not a booty-call kinda girl.”

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it over the last four years, trust me.”

“Say what!”

Jessica cringed. The last thing she’d meant to tell Raphael was that! “I mean—”

“Don’t even try to clean it up; you cannot take that back. I at least hope you’ve got a pocket rocket or something that takes batteries!”

“Raph, don’t start, okay . . . I’m embarrassed enough as it is.” Jessica let out a hard breath, opened her eyes, and stood. “I’ve gotta go.”

He laughed gently into the phone. “All right—I’ll mind my business, but I don’t want my sister losing her mind or becoming some old, dried-up prune. You go have fun in New Orleans and register for class. Maybe some tall, fine hunk who’s trying to get educated might find his way to school with you, who knows?”

“That would be a hopeful thought,” Jessica said, smiling, glad that her brother wasn’t going to continue to rant. “But, seriously,” she added in a quiet voice, “I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“That’s what family is for,” Raphael said, his tone somber and holding a tinge of wistfulness in it. “You
always
had my back, sis . . . You
never
outed me, never judged me, and
always
loved me—no matter what. If people talked about me, you’d come home with your nose bloody and knees all scraped up from fighting for me. Hair all wild . . . Remember those days?”

“Yeah, I do,” Jessica said, blinking back fresh tears.

“Well, that was what
I
needed, somebody who loved me regardless . . . so now helping you with what you need is the very least I can do.”

“But—”

“Jess, no
but
s. Let somebody give you something, for once.”

“All right,” she finally said, knowing her brother would not be moved.

“I love you,” he told her and then made a kiss sound against the cell phone.

“I love you right back.”

HE tried not to stare when she walked up to his spiritual paraphernalia store window and stopped. Her gaze was fastened to the silver objects that glittered in the late-afternoon sun. Golden-rose light spilled over her warm brown skin and caught in her freefall of shoulder-length braids. Her yellow tank top clung, giving his imagination help as his gaze slid down her curvy frame . . . He just wished she would step back so he could also see her legs. But he didn’t dare move, lest he frighten her away. Maybe, if God was listening to quick prayers, she’d come into the store.

He’d never seen her around New Orleans before, and she didn’t have the carefree look of a college student on break or the relaxed vibration of a tourist. Her pretty face was cast over with anxiety, her eyes holding a hungry quality of someone hunting for something but not sure what.

“Justin,” his grandmother called out from the back of the store just as the pretty woman in the window looked up.

He hadn’t realized that he’d nearly been in a trance until he heard his name. But now as a pair of gorgeous, intense dark brown eyes studied him, he couldn’t move or speak.

“Justin! Do you hear me calling you, son?”

“Yeah, Grand . . .”

But the moment he turned his head to answer and looked back, the girl was gone. Panic shot through him, although he wasn’t sure why. He’d seen beautiful women before, but this one . . . There was something he couldn’t place his finger on, something surreal about her. Justin rounded the counter and raced across the floor, glad that at this late hour all his usual customers were gone.

The mystery woman had just gone down the block a little ways, and he jogged to catch up to her, admiring how her shorts hugged her round, tight butt from behind. Her legs were killer, too. Although she couldn’t have been more than five foot six, her legs seemed like they belonged to a much taller woman.

He didn’t want to be rude or offend her by just calling out to her; his intention was to get close enough to speak. But she rounded on him so fast and with so much attitude that for a second he was at a loss for words.

“Get out of my face,” she said with a frown. “I did not come to New Orleans for no mess.”

He held his hands up in front of his chest. “I just saw you looking in the store window for something that we mighta had, then you walked away. All I wanted to do was see if I could help you. Dang . . . my bad.”

“Oh,” she said with a lot less venom. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like guys I don’t know running up on me in the street . . . and I’ve been looking all over for a shop that my momma used to come to when she was alive, but I can’t find it. She never came back after the storm, but I was hoping I could remember where it was.”

Justin nodded. “A lot of places didn’t reopen after Katrina . . . and sorry about your momma.”

“Thanks,” Jessica said quietly. “It’s cool. It’s been a couple of years.”

“But you never get used to losing your momma,” he said, looking at her and studying her face. “Justin,” he said in a gentle tone. “The name’s Justin.” He extended his hand for Jessica and she took it, shaking it quickly and then letting it go.

“I’m Jessica, but my friends call me Jess.” She hugged herself.

He had a strange feeling as he stared at her. She seemed disoriented and a little confused, the same way people look when they’re trying too hard to remember a name or to recall something they’ve forgotten.

“You know, this heat out here ain’t no joke,” he said after a moment. “Why don’t you come back down the street and soak up some air-conditioning while I see if we have the stuff you would’ve gotten in the other store.”

“Okay, thanks,” she said quietly, tilting her head as she spoke. “Yeah, maybe the heat is throwing me off.”

She’d never felt like this in her life, had never been so blind to another person’s thoughts. He gave her an inquisitive look along with a brilliant smile, then turned to head back toward his store. She kept her arms hugging her midsection, nursing the mild current of excitement that flowed from his hand into hers from just a touch. He was talking to her but she was only half listening, her mind trying desperately to sort out a hundred random thoughts at once.

Lost in her own thoughts, she tuned in to the slightly musty male scent that wafted off his body. His skin was the coppery hue that told her he had to be Creole. Beneath his bright white T-shirt she could see an extensive network of toned muscles. He was not too bulky . . . Lanky was how she’d describe him—and utterly delicious. The guy easily loping beside her was a full head taller than she was, maybe more, which made him approximately six two. However, what really captured her attention were his eyes.

They were golden amber brown, as though someone had splashed fine gold glitter into the dark hazel of them. He was clean shaven and had a beautiful, full mouth—a mesmerizing one that made her stare at it from the corner of her eye. He’d locked his hair and had it tied back in a long ponytail, but ringlets of silky black curls had escaped the stylistic invasion. The tone of his voice was a melodic alto, and before long she realized that tiny butterflies had escaped to flutter around in her belly. But it disturbed her that she couldn’t hear his thoughts.

Jessica forced her gaze to the ground as he opened the store’s front door. Cool air assaulted her, and she had to admit that it felt really good.

“Okay, so, what are you looking for that you couldn’t see from out there?”

“Uhmmm . . . you’re going to think I’m crazy,” she began slowly, hoisting her crocheted handbag higher up on her shoulder.

“No judgments when people ask for stuff in my store. Just tell me what you want, and if I have it, you’ve got it. If not, I can get it.”

It was hard to look at him and make words come out of her mouth at the same time. He didn’t seem that much older than she was, and he owned a store?

“This must take a lot of work,” she said, changing the subject until she could work up the nerve to explain why she was really there. She’d expected to find an old crone minding the occult shop, not some hunk with a gorgeous smile.

“It does,” he said with a casual shrug. “But I have to do something to keep the bills paid while I go to school at night—I’m taking up business marketing and management, entrepreneurship track. Tuition over at Xavier is hefty, but I’m not complaining.”

“That’s really cool . . . being able to run your own business, even in this economy, and still go to school. I’ve been saving for four years to try to go . . . but I’m definitely going to register this fall.”

Her honest comment seemed to make him stand up taller. “That’s good, real good. Don’t give up on your dreams. I only got a leg up with a store because Mom and Grand used to do psychic readings in here . . . but after Mom passed, Grand didn’t wanna see no more, so she gave me her part and said sell it. I couldn’t bear to do that, so I rebuilt it.”

Jessica opened and closed her mouth. “Your mom was a psychic, too.”

“Wait . . . your mom had the gift?” Justin just stared at her, gaping.

Jessica nodded as he laughed and walked in a tight circle with his hands on top of his head.

“That is too deep,” he said, laughing.

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah—ain’t it just?”

“Are you gonna fill that young lady’s order, son, or spend an hour telling her all our family bizness?”

Jessica and Justin turned at the sound of the elderly woman’s voice, and after a moment, a bent figure parted the green-glass beaded curtains that led to the back rooms. The short brown-skinned matron was draped in a multicolored crocheted shawl. Deep lines were etched into sagging, leathery skin, but her eyes still sparkled with a mysterious golden amber hue that seemed to take years off her age.

“This is Grand,” Justin said with a patient smile.

“Ma’am,” Jessica said, giving the older woman respect in the way that would have done her mother proud.

Justin’s grandmother gave a little snort of annoyance and came up to Jessica, peering at her with suspicion. “You’s pretty enough,” she said with a half smile that could have easily been mistaken for a scowl.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Jessica said shyly, not sure why this old woman made her so nervous.

“Don’t need ta thank me—thank the Good Lord for the way He blessed ya. Now whatchu want with my Justin?”

“Grand, please don’t start,” Justin said quickly. “The young lady didn’t come in here for all of that, she just came in here to—”

“I know what she came in here fer,” Grand said in a peevish tone, folding her arms over her bony chest.

“Maybe I should go,” Jessica mumbled and then turned to leave. “It was nice to meet y’all.”

“See, that’s the problem with young folks.” Grand let out a little grunt. “You’s too fast to jump to conclusions. I said I know why you came in here, sugah. Open up that bag of yours and let’s talk plain.”

Jessica turned around to look at the old lady.

“I know you got some serious hardware in there. Gonna take a coupla days to get bullets made for it. But’chu gonna need more than that to go after what’s down in Johnson’s Bayou.”

Jessica remained very, very still. She and Justin stared at Justin’s grandmother, slack-jawed.

“After what happened to my Lula, I didn’t wanna see no mo’, but that don’t mean I
cain’t
see.” Grand lifted her chin and narrowed her gaze on Jessica. “But you too young to be throwing your gift away by trying to go git yo’self kilt.”

Moving to the store counter, Jessica set her crocheted bag down on it and slowly extracted her father’s old service revolver. Justin looked at the gun; Grand just shook her head.

“So, you’s fixin’ to go into the bayou . . . all by your lonesome and handle up a whole pack of lukegaroos? Girl, you plum lost your natural mind.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Justin rounded the counter and stared at the gun for a few seconds, then looked at Jessica. “Tell me that isn’t the plan, because if it is, I’m not making you silver anything, let alone bullets.”

“Okay, fine,” Jessica said, growing annoyed. What business was it of theirs what she’d planned to do? But the old lady had said
pack
, as in more than a few like she’d imagined—that was her idea of a pack, but the old lady made it sound as though there were way more than that . . . She’d also acknowledged that there were werewolves out there.

Grand scoffed, picking up on Jessica’s thoughts. “You ain’t crazy, chile—not for knowing what ate up them people on the news. What makes you crazy as a bedbug is trying to go after what kilt my Lula all by yourself.”

“Grand, we are not going into that,” Justin said, frowning.

“Boy, I used to change your diapers, so don’t you sass me!” Grand fussed as she pointed a gnarled finger at Jessica. “Baby girl, lemme tell you . . . There’s a lot of mess up in that bayou that ya need to leave be. My daughter was carrying him,” she added with a quick jerk of her head toward Justin. “I tol’ her not to do no readings while she was carrying that boy . . . but money was funny and my daughter didn’t listen. She took a client—a man. His wife was a hussy, was cheatin’ on him, and my daughter didn’t have the sense she was born with not to tell him so.”

Justin let out a groan and walked away. “Grand, would you
please
stop.”

“No, ’cause this chile fixin’ to do somethin’ that don’t make sense, so I’m gonna tell her how mess goes ’round and comes ’round.”

Grand squared her shoulders and walked up to Jessica. But Justin seemed so uncomfortable that Jessica glanced at him, torn. Part of her wanted to know what had happened, and the other part wanted to stop the story that seemed to be causing Justin so much pain.

“Don’t look at him,” Grand said. “He’s closed-mouthed about everything, always been that way. So you need to give me your undivided.”

Grand nodded as Jessica’s attention was wrested back to her. “Now, like I was sayin’ . . . My daughter told and that husband went home as mad as a caught thief. Lef’ his no-good wife. After gettin’ caught in two-timing ways, the wife blamed my daughter. Have you ever?” Grand sucked her teeth and let another grunt of disgust pass her lips. “But you know hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Grand’s gaze softened, and then she looked at her grandson. “Sooner or later you gonna haf’ta tell somebody . . . maybe somebody who got a good heart and who can accept you for who you is.”

“If you violate my privacy, Grand, I swear, I’m out.” Justin stared at his grandmother, his eyes holding a promise to never forgive the offense.

“This girl here got a good heart and it involves her, you know?”

“How?” Justin shouted, spinning on his grandmother and talking with his hands. “Don’t do this, Grand!”

“Wasn’t till she walked in here and I got up close that I could see . . . but her daddy was the one messing with that swamp witch.”

“What?” Jessica shrieked and then tried to adjust her tone. “Ma’am . . . ?”

“Spells and counterspells—they was gun-slinging juju like it was the wild, wild West,” Grand said, waving an arthritic hand for emphasis. “First bad dose came when the wife hit my pregnant daughter . . . tried to make her have a monster—but as you can see, Justin is fine.” Grand raised an eyebrow and stared at him hard. “Satisfied?”

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“You just gifted, is all,” Grand said with a dismissive wave toward Justin before turning her focus back to Jessica. “But then, once my daughter realized what that hussy had tried to do, she did a reverse double-deadbolt spell on that cheating wife . . . sent that hatred right back where it came from. And you do know that a mother trying to protect her baby is stronger than a she-devil trying to do dirt, right?”

Grand waited for Jessica to nod and then squinted and pointed at her, vindicated. “Uh-huh, you know I’m tellin’ it right. Word is, that swamp witch, who by the way was quite a Jezebel, had a lot of bad IOUs out there, jus’ nobody would challenge her. But when my daughter did, the Lord worked in mysterious ways . . . All that bad she had out in the world came fer her all at one time. Turned her into what she was trying to make Justin. Your momma had a hand in it, too,” Grand said, nodding. “Uhhuh. That woman had worked roots on your daddy to get him to leave y’all . . . He was a lawman, had morals and principles, but once that she-devil got her hooks in him, it was all she wrote. So whatever your momma sent back her way added a little topspin on my Lula’s spell, and probably everybody else’s, too. It’s bad business to start root-slinging down here in New Orleans—never know how the juju is gonna ricochet.”