Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 06 - Revenge in Paradise (23 page)

“I bet Joseph wouldn’t answer the door and you’d shoot it off the hinges. Your friend here laughed in my face and took the bet.”

“We have a new policy,” I informed Mac. “As owner, I’m leaving the dirty work of informing tenants about policy changes to you.”

“What about her?” Mac tossed her head in Fab’s direction.

“Requests for bail and rides home from the jail go through the office during regular business hours. If they get released at the crack of dawn, they can wait or walk.”

“About time,” Fab said, and grabbed my arm.

I let her drag me to the Hummer. “Thanks, Mac,” I said over my shoulder. “If you get word on Bungee, call me no matter the time.”

We backed out and Mac untied the jump rope from around her waist, which I thought was just an ugly belt, and started jumping. I winced as her body moved in several directions at once.

I felt the mattress dip. Smiling, hazy with sleep, I stuck out my hand and ran it over Creole’s leg. My eyes flew open and I was to about to scream when a hand hit my shoulder.

“Shh, it’s me,” Mother whispered. “Were you expecting someone else?”

I ignored her smirk and squinted at the clock. “A little early isn’t it?”

“But I brought goodies. I got a little carried away, but nothing seems to go to waste around here. You never have any food, unless it’s vegetables.” She wrinkled her nose.

Mother and I shared the same dislike for most vegetables unless disguised in a cheese sauce or something that cut the healthy level. Didier was responsible for the green foods that he turned into slimy juice in the morning.

Mother brushed my hair out of my face. “I don’t like it when we fight. Spoon––notice I didn’t say Spoonie? I’m forbidden to call him that unless we’re in private. Spoon and I argued over something stupid right before we got to Jake’s and I took my frustration out on you.”

“That’s what started my drinking binge—a misunderstanding with Creole. I don’t know why I can’t be a happy little drunk in the corner instead of a scene maker.” I rolled over and put my head on her chest. “Been staying out of trouble?”

“Thanks for letting me have the run of the game room, I christened it already. It turned out to be really fun and I know it’s supposed to be for all the customers but I don’t want anyone grubbing it up. I want it available to private parties only.”

“You have complete control and I trust you.” I smiled up at her.

She tugged on the ends of my hair. “I want you to know I think you and Creole are a great match.”

“Why the turn around? You were so worried we’d break up and none of us would be friends anymore.”

“There are no guarantees. I should know that, your father died too young. I’d have to be blind not to see the way you two look at one another. And when he threw you over his shoulder and carried you out of Jake’s, it was so romantic,” she sighed.

“That means a lot to me and will to Creole. We won’t have to sneak around anymore, although I think it’s fun, so we’ll probably continue.”

“Spoon also reminded me that you supported our relationship when no one else did. And he likes Creole.”

“I have something to confess,” I said, although I couldn’t quite meet her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter what you did, I love you. Is there a warrant for your arrest?” Her eyes big as saucers, she hugged me.

“Really, Mother.” I heaved a sigh. “I didn’t go to Marcy’s wedding; she’s been married for two years. I never got an invite, some friend.”

She frowned at me. “Where did you go? I’m more interested in with whom?”

“I snuck out of town with my pretend cousin.” I turned red.

“I knew it! Besides I never liked that loud mouth Marcy girl, snotty thing, even in high school.” She brushed my hair out of my face. “Did you have a good time?”

“I like him a lot.” My cheeks never stopped burning.

“This reminds me of the time you threw a party when I went out of town for the weekend and told me a year later.”

I giggled. “That was a really cool party.” I rolled off the opposite side of the bed. “Let’s go downstairs for coffee and rolls.”

She looked at Creole’s football jersey that I had on and chuckled. “When I came down the hall, Fab had a ribbon tied to her door handle again. Do you suppose they…you know…all the time?”

I felt my face get warm again. “Probably.”

“You know she left a book open on her tablet last week and I started to read.” Mother looked embarrassed. “Romance novels aren’t what they used to be, you know, separate beds and all. She wasn’t happy to see my eyes glued to the screen and took it back.”

I hugged her and said, “You’re a second mother to her and she doesn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Good thing I remembered the title of the book. When I told Spoon about it, he bought the book for me. I’ve been reading it to him.” She blushed.

“Please, please don’t ever tell Brad,” I said.

We both laughed.

“We’re made up now aren’t we?” Mother asked.

“We can have tiffs but nothing more than that.” I kissed her cheek. “Love you this much,” I said, and held out my arms.

* * *

Didier looked at his watch for the tenth time, tapping the dial. How he and Fab never broke up over time issues mystified me. He was always punctual, more often early, while Fab arrived when she felt like it.

“It’s date night,” I gushed to Fab as she floated down the stairs in a mid-calf strapless black dress that tied just above her breasts, a deep slit showing her legs from mid-thigh.

I had on a black wrap skirt with a large tangerine hibiscus print, tied to the side exposing a generous view of my leg, and a spaghetti strap top to match the flower print.

Didier let out a low whistle and devoured Fab as though she were one of those new margarita cupcakes I’d seen at the bakery.

I stood at the garden window over the kitchen sink, unashamed to be staring out impatiently. “He’s here!” Creole’s truck rolled into the driveway parking just behind mine.

Fab half-smirked. “Let’s hope he knows how to dress outside of work, ditched the crummy clothes and washed his dirty feet.”

“Why don’t I kick you to the floor and beat the hell out of you?” I balled up my fists.

“Good luck with that.” Fab rolled her eyes.

As the front door opened, I ran to meet him. “Look at you, so damn delicious,” I said, and planted a kiss on his mouth. My voice rising, I added, “And to think, Fab thought you would show up looking like a roady in a beach band, you know, skeevy.”

“I’m going to rip your hair out. I didn’t say that, exactly,” Fab huffed.

“Exactly?” Creole growled. “I’ll have you know I can dress myself. I even own my own tuxedo. And look, Didier just gave me the thumbs up. He ought to know.”

Didier laughed.

Creole and Didier were dressed almost alike, Creole in black pants and tropical shirt, Didier opting for taupe-colored pants and shirt.

I gave the address of The Fish Co. earlier to Fab since we agreed to meet at the restaurant I insisted on being able to choose, just so that we didn’t end up in formal wear like the two of them did on a regular basis.

“Since we’ll be getting there first,” Fab started as she fingered the new black diamond heart pendant Didier surprised her with, “if this turns out to be a dive bar or some crummy broken down restaurant we’re not even getting out of the car.”

“I’m not driving, so we might beat you down to Islamorada,” I challenged.

Creole and I left first, since he’d partially blocked Fab’s Mercedes.

“Is this supposed to be a race?” Creole asked.

I laughed. “Didier makes her drive the speed limit or somewhere close, anyway. She listens to him. As for me, she only slows down when I threaten to throw up.”

“If you so much as have a twinge of sickness, hang your head out the window. I’ll hang on to your leg so you won’t fall out.”

* * *

Mother recommended the restaurant, raved about the food, and told me to request table number ten by the window; it had the best view of the inlet. The outside looked a little worn, which drew a groan from Fab.

The inside had been totally modernized to seaside chic. In the center of the room under the tiki-hut ceiling, sat a ginormous round fish tank, an assortment of tropical fish swimming freely with no fear of ending up on someone’s dinner plate. The walls were hand-painted in a soft green seascape with muted tones of yellows and oranges. Tables were set in white linen and shell-decorated candleholders with lit votives.

Mother had been right; the inside corner table had a view of the entire length of the water. A few boats parked nearby, their outside lights on, which danced off the water.

“No Tequila?” Fab asked.

I wrinkled my nose, looking at the red wine I ordered. “My favorite alcohol and I need some time apart.”

“You should try my vanilla vodka, you’d like it,” Fab said.

“I hung my head in a toilet for hours over a fifth of vodka. Stayed sick for five days. The thought makes my stomach jump.”

“Really, Madison,”—Fab channeled Mother—“is that appropriate dinner talk?” She shook her finger.

Creole and Didier laughed.

“Good imitation.” Creole gave her a thumbs up.

Didier looked between Fab and me. “How did you two meet?”

“She interrupted a breakfast meeting and created a scene in the restaurant by pouring a pitcher of water over her boyfriend’s head, who happened to be sitting across from me. I kept an eye on her from the time she stalked in, and moved out of the way just in time. Imagine that?” Fab said.

I shook my head. “I remember our first meeting a little differently.”

Imagine that!

“I came home from a lousy day,” I explained, “and there she stood in the kitchen window, waving. Hard to believe, she picked the lock and made herself at home.” I made a face at her.

“No need for surliness. Didn’t I teach you to pick locks?” Fab asked.

“She built this door-lock contraption as a get well gift. I’m practicing again.”

Didier pulled her close and kissed her cheek.

“Let me guess, she moved in the next day?” Creole asked.

“Not right away, but once again, I came home and her suitcases were at the bottom of the stairs, boxes in the garage, feet on the couch, Jazz asleep on her chest. Best day ever.”

“I never wanted a friend, but she hounded me. Then came the bribes of shoe shopping which wore me down.”

We must have timed it right because our food arrived lightning fast. We toasted to friendship. My first bite of scallops was heavenly. Everyone was happy with their selection.

“How did you two hook up? She kick your ass and drag you home?” Creole asked Didier.

Didier leaned over and whispered in her ear, “…cave woman…”

I gazed up at Creole and laughed. He winked. I knew he also heard Didier.

“We met briefly at a party. And I thought she was exquisite.” He blew her a kiss. “To my disappointment she vanished. Imagine my surprise when I opened my wallet and a card lay on top with her name and number scribbled down.”

Fab smiled at him. “He was an easy mark. Getting inside his jacket, I had to restrain myself from marking his chest with my fingernails, reminding myself there would be plenty of time later.”

“You couldn’t just stick out your hand and say, ‘Hi, I’m the fabulous Fabiana,’” I asked. “What if he had never called?”

“I’d have tracked him down and ‘drug his ass’ home, as he so eloquently put it.” She glared at Creole.

Didier smiled at me. “And you two?” He looked at Creole. “Did he arrest you?”

“He had the use of a cottage when I inherited them. I don’t think he actually lived there; he just came and went at random times. My aunt had put a ‘no eviction’ note on his file. He skulked around, an occasional glimpse now and then. One day he showed up at my house and introduced himself, that’s how I found out we were cousins.”

“You have to stop with that story.” Creole pulled on the ends of my hair. “Some people will think…you know what they’ll think, and spread it around town.”

“I lived in a hotel when I met Fabiana.” Didier patted her hand. “She invited me to Madison’s one night for dinner and a swim and I never left. A few days later, when I had an appointment, she went back to the hotel, packed up my clothes, and checked me out. It surprised me when my keycard didn’t work in the door. After a chat with the front desk, I called her and she said, ‘Did I forget to tell you?’”

“I remember meeting you that first morning over coffee,” I said. “You were half-naked, had terrible bed-head, and spoke to me in French. I nearly swooned. Since then you’ve charmed your way through every woman in the family.”

Didier looked embarrassed. “It always surprised me you never asked where I came from or when I was leaving. Now I feel like part of your family.”

“Mother adores you. Spoon, on the other hand, glares a lot but only because you make her blush and giggle.”

A scruffy, middle-aged man with mean, beady eyes hauled a chair up to the table and plunked down. Tall and lean, his ill-fitting clothes hung on him. He brandished a gun and pointed it at Fab. “Remember me, Fababean?”

I squinted at him. “Wouldn’t that be fava bean? I tend toward greasier foods myself.” I groped my thigh, remembering none of us had accessorized with guns. We’d have to get creative.

“Shut up. In fact, all of you keep your mouths shut and listen or my first bullet will find its way to her throat.” He waved the muzzle in Fab’s direction. “I can watch the life gurgle out of her.” He made a choking noise.

I gave a quick glance around the restaurant; no one seemed to notice. He had his back to the room and had attracted no attention. I didn’t see that as a plus for our side.

Fab spoke up. “You and me, let’s go outside, nice and quiet-like. We’ll have a chit chat over old times.”

Creole pushed his chair back, and the man cocked his gun. “Sit back. Don’t be a dead hero.”

“Where are your manners?” I said to Fab. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“What do you want, Devil?” Fab quirked her brow, she was assembling some kind of hasty plan.