Blackwater (2 page)

She opens her eyes from her daydream and looks at me fiercely. Her dramatics are my favorite part of the boring school day. "Lorelei Huntington, you are gonna sell your soul to the devil and let your daddy trade you like cattle to some man? Your wicked momma is gonna pick the richest man she can find. Richest doesn’t always means best looking. In fact, it usually means the opposite. I can't believe you're gonna marry some man for money."

I look at my manicure and grin. I know something she doesn't. I lower my voice and speak through my smirk. "It ain't just some man."

She slaps my arm, "You don't. You don't know. Now you tell, ya hear. What do you know?"

I bat my eyelashes at her, "I know your dark hair and green eyes would contrast better if you stopped letting the sun tan you like that. I know it's gonna age you."

"Yeah well, you look exhausted again, so there. We're quite the pair. Now spill."

The bell rings and she grabs my hand, dragging me through a group of girls who are giggling and chatting incessantly.

"You have to tell, Lorelei."

I bite my lip and look at her sideways. "You have to actually keep this secret. Not like the last time you swore and then told Mandy. Her momma told mine and I got grounded. Momma cut my calories so hard I couldn’t run for weeks."

She crosses herself.

I tilt my head skeptically, "You swore off God two weeks ago. I'm going to need a better guarantee than that."

"Fine, I'll trade you a secret. I let Marcello slip his hands up under my blouse yesterday." She covers her mouth as she says it. "Oooouuu lordy. I almost found god all over again."

My eyes widen, but I maintain my composure, "Harlot."

She nods, "It was fabulous. His hands are all rough from doing barn work and training the horses. It felt remarkable. Spill."

I can't, I'm stuck in the image of her and Marcello. She has amazing breasts and Marcello is the most beautiful horse trainer in all of Louisiana. I imagine for a second, his hands in my blouse. I blush.

She shoves me lightly, "Stop thinking about it. I never shoulda told you."

My breathing increases as I fan myself and speak blankly, "The Ryan family from New Hampshire. Martin Ryan. Mr. Ryan was at the house yesterday. He and Daddy were in his study for hours. When they came out finally, they shook hands and Mr. Ryan complimented my dress. He told me Martin would be fond of it and I should ensure I wear it this weekend to the Hampton's with them. He talks all fancy and Northern. I had to make sure I said everything the right way, ya know?"

She stops and grips my arms, "The Ryan’s, Martin Ryan?" She looks stunned.

I nod, excitedly.

She shakes me. "No. Not him. Anyone but him."

I knit my brow, "What on earth is wrong with the Ryan family? They're wealthy, related to the Kennedys and he is by far the most attractive bachelor in all of Louisiana."

Her face is covered with disgust and fear, "Firstly, they're Yankees. That means he don't count as eligible in the South, Sweets. Secondly, Martin has already, well you know. He has experiences you don’t. He dated Margery Banks. I heard they did a few things you and I haven’t learned how to do yet. Clearly, our home economics and hers differ."

Her words hurt but I don't want her to see it. I shake my head, "You really are wicked."

"Mandy's momma told my momma that Margery's momma made a comment about tying Margery's legs together until she was married. Ouuuie. My momma woulda tied my legs shut alright. I wouldn’t have seen the light of day for a decade if she caught me doing that. Apparently, she caught them in the act and Margery was on her knees, and girl she wasn't prayin."

I swallow hard and shake my head, "You know what they're like. It might not be true. They're hateful."

She shrugs and pulls her dark hair back, fanning her face. "Maybe. Do you really want to chance it? Be with a man Margery Banks has already entertained, on her knees?"

I shake my head. I feel sick. "It can't be true."

Her eyes glass over for a second, "Promise me you'll get to know him and think about it before you just agree because he's rich? It's your whole life, Lorelei."

I nod, but I can't get past the image she has created and the anger that came with it.

She continues fanning herself, "There ain't a breeze in the whole county. I need a swim. Let's go to my house."

My pride is wounded. Margery Banks. It must be lies. The South is known for its nasty gossip. I hope it ain't true. If it is, Angie coulda kept it to herself. I assume she's jealous and twirl my long dark-blonde hair around my fingers. Even if it was true, I think the deal is done. I don’t know if I have the luxury of calling off the deal with our daddies. I shake it off and smile peacefully, "I think Martin and the Ryan family are just perfect. I can't wait for the Hamptons. We fly up on daddy's plane tomorrow. You should come. You can see what a wonderful couple we will be, first hand."

She opens the door to her locker, "He won't like me coming none. But obviously, I can't very well let you go on up there alone. Not now that we all know where he likes to put his penis."

I choke, "You're vile, Angelina Palatino." My stomach sinks.

Evil crosses her lips with a grin that almost always means trouble. Scratch that, it always means trouble. "I have an idea…"

I shake my head and put my books in her locker, cutting her off, "No." I walk away. "I'll be over for tea after my nap."

"You never like my ideas."

I wave backwards.

"Think about California. I still think we got something there, girl. Say hi to Ramón for me."

I shoot her a scowl and notice the way her face is saying something I can't understand. I roll my eyes at her, "No. Ramón ain't your type."

She laughs. She ain't putting her hands on my best friend in the whole world.

Ramón is sitting in the car waiting. He looks positively drenched in sweat.

He jumps out and opens the door for me.

"Good afternoon, Goddess."

I smile and offer a slight bow before I climb in. "Good afternoon, sir Ramón."

He jumps in and starts the car. I tie on my kerchief and open the window. It's hot and sweaty with my back against the leather seats. The Lincoln doesn't have the stretch our other cars have. Ramón looks back at me. His skin is tanned from the hours he spends waiting around for my family, at our varying functions. His dark hair is matted to his leathered face.

"You have a good day?"

I nod, "I suppose. It's awfully hot though. There ain't a breeze in the whole state I don't think."

"Tis true, but you can't be saying ain't like that. You know your momma would tear the skin right off your back with a word like that. She already cutting your calories so much, I'm getting worried at how skinny you getting."

I smile at him, "Lordy, you're good for my self-confidence."

He shakes his head and passes me back a package. My fingers tremble when I open it. The starvation makes me so hungry I can barely grip things sometimes. Inside the foil is a turkey sandwich with all the fixins. The first bite is heaven. I almost choke, taking such large bites. My stomach instantly starts to grumble and scream. The bites land in my belly and I feel instant relief.

His dark eyes in the mirror watch me eating, "How long since she let you eat a real meal?"

I shake my head, "Lemon water for the last three days." My words come out in mumbles and mouthfuls.

His dark-red lips press tightly together, "I'm gonna poison her one day; y'all need to know that shit."

I laugh and swallow the first half of the sandwich like a snake eating a whole mouse.

"Ya still gotta eat like a lady, pigness." He hands me a thermos. I crack it and drink the sweet tea right from the thermos instead of using the lid.

"Where did you get this?" I ask and take another scrumptious bite of the soft white bread, stuffing, cranberry sauce and turkey sandwich. I get a hint of Havarti cheese and moan into the bite.

He laughs at me, nearly rubbing the sandwich all over my body.

"Mrs. Mercer, down the road from my friend Joe. She owns a bakery and makes the best-damned sandwiches in the whole state. I buy them from her in secret. I pay double; she ain't allowed to sell me anything I don't eat there. Your momma is watching everyone else. She knows if even a cracker is missing."

I finish the meal off and rub my hand over my belly that instantly has a food bump. "As soon as I marry, I'm gone. I don’t have to worry anymore. I'm going to get fat and eat everything I see."

He laughs, "Oh no you ain't. You and me, we be running everyday still. You'll see, you'll be able to run further with constant food."

I scowl and yawn, "I'm too tired to talk about running, baby."

"You having troubles sleeping again?"

I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror and nod.

He shakes his head. "I will get my grandmamma to come and do the protection spell again. Keep them spirits out of your room. We gotta wait till your momma and daddy are gone though, Cher."

"I love your grandmamma." I roll my eyes, "She needs to come and get the demons outta my momma." I smirk at him in the rearview, "I almost forgot. Speaking of devils, Angie said to say hi." I mock her high pitch voice and up my accent a notch.

He makes a face, "You of all people should know she ain't exactly my type."

"I know." I nod and stifle another yawn, "Lordy, I need some sleep. I need Grandmamma's remedy."

I can't wait to see his grandmamma again. I need her to bless my room and bunny so badly. I am dying of exhaustion. The last time she did it was six years ago and I have had six years of bliss. Until recently.

"Can we go to Grandmamma's now?" I'm almost in a food coma, I'm so tired and full.

He nods in the mirror, looking worried. I ignore it and eventually he mellows out. He natters on about us doing a beach run in the Hamptons. There is a beach he wants to run at. I put my hand out the window and let the air wash over it. I wish we would happen upon a cool breeze.

I hold my hand out the window; the air glides against it like warm water. I feel the weird sparks I always get when I hold my hands out in the air and snap my fingers and make them happen. I don’t even realize I'm doing it. I'm not supposed to. I close my eyes and let the sparks creep up my arms, they light me on fire. I love the feel of it.

His voice breaks my concentration. "You been feeling anything weird, lately Cher?" he asks into the mirror. He looks funny, like he knows about the sparks. He doesn't though. I know that. I'm not allowed to do them, but when I was little I did them in front of daddy and he couldn’t see them. But when Ramón's grandmamma came to cleanse my room, she saw me do it. She told me that if my momma knew about the sparks she would beat me silly. I almost never do it because of the fear my momma will find out I can.

I glance up at him and shake my head, fighting the blush on my cheeks. "Just sleepy from the icy whispers. Why?"

He smiles and shakes his head, but I can see it's the one I don't like. It's the one that says he's hiding things from me. I swallow hard and wonder if he saw the sparks. The light from them is fast and bright. In the midday sun it would be impossible to make out - hopefully. I push it to the back of my mind.

He starts nattering again and I distract myself with thoughts of Angie letting the help touch her. I glance at Ramón still speaking, and imagine his callused hands on my breasts. I instantly feel nauseous. He's no Marcello. He's more of a brother than anything. It's wrong to debase him that way. He deserves so much more than to be trifled with.

I do however like to rile him up. "Marcello put his hands up Angie's shirt," I mutter.

He raises his eyebrows up in disbelief.

I shrug and snuggle into the seat better, "Apparently."

He tilts his head with a chuckle, "Oooooeeeee. That Marcello is running a big risk. The Palatino family has connections that will get him a nice pair of cement boots. The word is they're related to the Chicago and New York crime families and they're running some imported goods in The Keys."

I blush, thinking about Marcello with his hands inside of my blouse. It's easy to imagine. He is beautiful. He is the Italian Stallion. That’s what all the mothers call him.

The air feels thicker when I imagine his hands moving to other places.

I decided a while back that I don’t want to be pure on my wedding day. I don’t want to be with one man my whole life. I know I'll be forced to marry and honestly, it'll be such a relief being away from my momma. But I know how marriage works in the South. My marriage won't be no different than my parent's marriage, filled with secret trysts and hidden kisses. I kinda hope my husband will be like my daddy. I don't mind the idea of being married to a gentle cold man like him. It's better than being married to a cad.

I don’t care what Angie says, I know Martin will be like my daddy, he already is so like him. No one would ever know my daddy has mistresses. Most people believe him to be madly in love with my momma. He doesn’t embarrass her, ever. Well, except for with his weird war paranoia but that’s a common one with Southern men.