Kicks for a Sinner S3 (10 page)

“Yeah, I tried to get in there, but the place is locked up.” The driver smiled, exposing a gold tooth.

“Everyone is at the crawfish boil. It’s Good Friday,” Tommy said, which explained the situation entirely to anyone from around Chapelle, Louisiana. He continued to stay out of reach.

The man in the LSU cap slapped his forehead. “So it is. How could I forget? I been down in Mexico too long. Here I come to visit my son and bring him a little gift, but no one’s home. You know a kid named Thomas Cassidy Billodeaux? I think he has cool red hair and freckles like his pretty mother.”

“That’s me!” Tommy squinted, trying to see the man better. The stranger had Billodeaux eyes—dark, dark brown, surrounded by short curly lashes. When he tipped his LSU cap back to show his face better, a strand of dark, greasy hair showing some gray fell forward over his brow. Tommy moved closer.

“Then, you’re my son. I come all the way from Mexico to bring you this.”

He held up a squirming yellow puppy with over-sized white paws by the loose scruff of its neck. A pink tongue flicked out from its black muzzle as the pup tried to lick the man’s face. A funny tail curled over the tiny dog’s backside and waggled back and forth. “It’s a boy dog, the only kind a man should own. See, it has
cojones
like the spicks say, balls, that is.”

Tommy stepped to the cab of the pickup and held up his arms. The man known to the law by his alias of Bijou dropped the dog into his outstretched hands, and the animal laved its pink tongue against Tommy’s cheek.

“Look, son. I got to move out of the road or someone will come along and hit my truck. Hop on in, and we’ll drive down to Lorena Ranch, okay?”

Keeping a careful eye out for traffic, Tommy moved around the front of the truck, but on Good Friday, the roads were empty. Everyone spent the day with family, not out in the fields. Bijou stretched out a hand to pull him up into the high cab, and Tommy settled in on a seat that smelled like puppy pee and cigarette smoke. His feet didn’t quite reach the floorboard covered with fast food wrappers, empty beer cans, and brown bottles. They went exactly where his natural father said they would go—to Lorena Ranch—and parked in front of the locked gates.

“Daddy Joe has a clicker to open them. So does Mama, Corazon and Mr. Polk, but I know a place where we can get in,” Tommy volunteered. “If you don’t mind going through some thorns and climbing a fence.”

“Kid, in Mexico, we got cactus with thorns so big they could put your eyes out. A puny hedge of Cherokee roses and a fence ain’t gonna stop me. Show me your place. Just leave the pup in the truck.”

“No, you must never leave a pet in a hot car. That’s what they say on TV. I’m practicing to be a good dog owner so Mama Nell will let me have one.”

Tommy slid out of the truck and brought his gift with him. He moved along the fencing until he came to a spot where the natural deterrent of wild white roses thinned a little. The fence stood higher than most and the wrought iron pales had been placed close together so no one could slip through them, not even skinny little girls, but the puppy fit and popped out on the other side easily. Even though he could do it himself, the man, not as tall as his dad, lifted him up to the first crossbar. Tommy mounted the second from there and swung over the pointed pales to the other side with no trouble at all. Using long legs with not half of Joe’s muscle clad in worn blue jeans, Bijou followed his son over the fence and cursed when the spikes on top poked him in the ass. That made Tommy laugh.

Bijou shook a finger at him. “You better learn some respect for your old man.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just we aren’t supposed to swear, but sometimes Dean and me do it anyhow. Then, Mama Nell asks where we heard those words, but we never tell.”

“Good, I like a boy who can keep a secret. Let’s go enjoy some of Joe Dean’s hospitality.”

They made their way through the oak grove to the mansion sitting above the bayou. The puppy gamboled along at their feet. “Close your eyes,” Tommy requested when they got to the house.

“What for?”

“I have to get the key. We aren’t allowed to show where it is.”

“Sure, I’ll just turn my back. My, my, this place has grown since the last time I visited. You got that high fence and a swimming pool, all those little cottages among the trees.”

“Yep, the fence is for our protection, the pool is for fun, and the cottages are where sick kids stay with their families when we have summer camp for them.” Tommy carefully removed the shell from an ornamental turtle sitting deep among the azalea bushes. He took the key from the hollow inside and replaced the top. “You can turn around now. Mama Nell hides a key so we can always get in if we’re playing outside and it rains or something.”

“Good idea. That Nell is a smart woman. Always could put two and two together. That a camera over the door?”

“Yeah, for safety, Mr. Polk says.”

“
Buenos dias,
Joe Dean.” Bijou grinned showing his gold tooth again and waved at the lens. “Still got the dental work you paid for.” He tapped the cap with a grimy fingernail.

Tommy struggled with the key. Bijou took it, turned the lock, and threw the door wide open in his eagerness to enter his Cousin Joe’s domain.

“We got to shut off the security real quick.” He punched in four numbers on the key pad.

“What might those numbers be, son?”

“Can’t tell you, but it’s the year my other dad won his first Super Bowl. Would you like a cold drink?” Tommy asked courteously. The kid, his kid, had nice manners.

“I would, but first, I’d like to see your room. Bet it’s real nice.”

“Sure. It’s upstairs. It’s decorated with horses. I love horses—and dogs.” He whistled, a new accomplishment learned from Mr. Howdy, to the pup and led the way up a sweeping staircase grand enough for Scarlett O’Hara to ascend in Rhett Butler’s arms.

“If you love horses, I got plenty you could ride. Why, I train racehorses. I could make a jockey out of you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No pissant ponies anymore, but long-legged thoroughbreds.”

Tommy considered the offer. “That would be great! My room is over here next to Dean’s bedroom. He got football players on his walls.”

“Yes, I remember. Last time I stood in this room, you were sleeping in a crib. How about that? The fat Mexican maid tried to stop me from seeing you.”

“Corazon? She’s real nice and not that fat.” Tommy’s forehead wrinkled as if turbulent thoughts galloped across his mind like the multicolored horses in the wall frieze. “My mom said you did bad things and had to go live in Mexico, that you couldn’t come back here ever.”

“Cassie bad-mouthing me? She wanted what she done as bad as I did.” Bijou stretched out in the oversized, tan leather chair and put his dirty boots up on the matching hassock.

Tommy frowned. “That’s our story reading place. You shouldn’t get mud on it. We have to take our boots off in the house. Mama Nell told me you did bad things. Mama Cassie never talks about you.”

Bijou ignored him. His eyes found the pictures of Cassie, a double frame of her in a graduation cap and gown from college and another of her with Copperhead. “Grown up to be a real nice piece of ass, my sassy Cassie. Not that she wasn’t prime before, but a little too skinny back then. I have a new woman now, all curves and pretty black eyes. You know, you have a Mexican half-sister down across the border. I’d sure like you to meet her. Want to go on a vacation with me? Your spring break is coming up. Hard to believe I went to the same parochial school as you.”

“You know a lot about me.”

“Your grandparents drop me a line now and again.”

“Which ones? I have four sets.”

“Hal and Flo Billodeaux who live up by Toledo Bend Lake. Your real mom and me hid out there once when we were on the run.”

“Running from what?” Tommy asked, eyes wide. He squirmed like the puppy at his feet.

“Oh, we were in love, but your mama was kinda young. Joe Dean and the cops tried to stop us from being together like Romeo and Juliet. You know who they were?”

“No, sir.”

“Sir, I like that. Doesn’t matter. Seems a man can be put in jail for loving too young a girl. Now that ain’t right as I see it. I can’t go near your real mama anymore, but things are different in Mexico. Soon as they’re ripe, they fall from the tree and anyone can pick them up. So, you ready for an adventure? Got a bag we can pack?”

Tommy nodded. “In the closet—but I have to ask permission from my parents before I go anywhere.”

Bijou got up and folded back the doors of a large closet. He whistled, and the pup yapped. “Must be nice to have a rich step-daddy. What you got here, like ten pairs of shoes? Cowboy boots, flip-flops, sandals, church shoes, a pile of sneakers. Xochi would love to have all this. Xochi, that’s my daughter.”

He found a red Sinners duffel bag on a shelf and threw in the boots, flip-flops, sandals and a pair of sneakers, then removed several pairs of jeans neatly folded over hangers. “No need for school uniforms since we’ll be on vacation. Where do you keep your T-shirts?”

“In the dresser. Xochi, that’s a funny name. I understand how she would be my half-sister, but Daddy Joe is my adoptive father, not my stepfather.”

“Yeah, Joe Dean always did take away what was mine. My job, my girl, my glory. I was a championship bull rider once. They tell you that?” He stuffed shirts from the dresser drawers into the duffle and topped off the load with underwear and socks. “Go get your toothbrush and a comb, and we’ll be all ready to go. Jesus H. Christ, a six-year-old with his own bathroom.”

Tommy retrieved the items and watched his natural daddy shove them into the bag. “I need to ask permission,” he repeated.

“No, you don’t. Just write a note saying where you are going.”

“I can’t do cursive yet.”

“Then print it out. What’s this, you got a laptop already? Forget it. I’ll do it.” Bijou sat at the small desk and brought the computer to life. He tapped out, “I am going to visit my real dad in Mexico. Tommy,” while repeating the words.

“Say ‘Love, Tommy’. Mama Nell tells us we should always write ‘love’ at the end of thank you notes to our grandparents. She makes us write them by hand.”

“Yeah, classy broad. But in this case, we’ll just print this one out. I think we should get going soon. Almost dinnertime. We’ll catch a burger on the way and get one for your new puppy, too.”

Tommy placed the note spit from the printer carefully on his pillow and followed his real dad into the hall. They didn’t go directly downstairs. Instead, Bijou poked into his parents’ room and sorted through a small jewelry box.

“Nothing much worth takin’,” he said in disgust. He palmed a pair of small gold hoop earrings channeled with diamond chips into the breast pocket of his western shirt, but couldn’t resist jamming a silver ring set with a garnet onto his pinkie though it wouldn’t go over his second joint. “Freakin’ little pixie, your second mom.”

“She doesn’t like to be called a pixie or a fairy or anything like that. The good stuff is in the safe, anyhow. That’s where Dad keeps his third Super Bowl ring,” Tommy offered.

“No time for safe cracking now.”

Bijou poked into the girls’ pink, frilly bedroom, and threw some shiny Sunday shoes, fancy flip-flops with flowers on the bands, and neon-bright orange sneakers into the sack. He stripped several pretty dresses, some hand-smocked, some ruffled, some floral-printed, from their hangers and folded them on top. “Your sisters won’t mind giving some of their stuff to a poor Mexican girl, will they?”

“Mama says we have so much we should always share.”

“I figured that. She won’t miss anything we’re taking. Let’s vamoose.”

They moved out so fast the puppy couldn’t keep up, and Bijou grabbed it by the scruff and shoved it under the arm not holding the duffle over his shoulder. The pup yelped, and Tommy scrunched his face in concern.

“I’ll carry him. We need to set the alarm before we go.”

“You go on with the dog. I’ll take care of the alarm.”

Tommy cuddled the puppy and moved out. Bijou shut the door but didn’t bother to reset the alarm. He posed before the security camera and shot the bird at Joe Dean with one bejeweled finger instead. “We’re on our way to Mexico, big shot.”

TWELVE

Nell sat at the picnic table with a twin on either side. “Joe, where are the boys?”

“Gone into the fields to look for snakes and toads.”

PawPaw Frank dumped a heap of deep red crawfish onto the newspaper covering the table and said, “I’ll give dem a holler, me,” and ambled off on long legs like Joe’s to make good on his promise.

Jude shot out a hand to seize a big mudbug, but her mother held her back. “They’re still steaming, honey. Let them cool down a bit. Besides, we should wait until everyone is seated.”

The gang of boys summoned by a shout emerged from the cane field. Triumphantly, Dean held up an old pillowcase with something large bumping inside. “Caught a pretty king snake, Mom. Want to see it?”

“No! Go inside and wash the toad and snake slime off your hands before you eat.”

“I keep telling you snakes aren’t slimy, just toads, and they aren’t so much except for their poison glands.”

“Yuck,” Annie said. “Don’t let him bring it home.”

“It’s not poisonous. It eats other snakes and would be good to have around the barn.”

“Then we should keep it,” Jude declared and snagged a boiled crawfish, deftly twisting off the tail.

“I said to wait,” her mother repeated.

Jude made a face. “We’re all here except Tommy, and I’m hungry.”

“Dean, where is your brother? You didn’t lose him out there on purpose, did you?”

“Don’t know where he is. He didn’t go snake hunting with us. I invited him,” the boy said defensively, implying, “Play one little trick on your brother and you are suspected forever.” He trotted off to wash his hands.

Across the table his cousin Randi with her black curls drawn to the sides of her head into two pigtails tattled, “Tommy was over by the ditch
boudering
because someone made fun of his red hair and freckles again.”