Two Thousand Miles (4 page)

I had no idea what my initiation involved, but because Dixie was watching, I decided I would do whatever it was without hesitation.   

Shelby began pouring beer in
to the mugs, filling them about three quarters of the way up while Russ filled the shot glasses with brown liquid from the green bottle.

When Shelby passed out the beers, the mug she sat in front of me was only half-full. Dixie laughed out loud. “I guess I’m not the only one who thinks you can’t hang with us,” she said callously.
I pushed the mug back to Shelby and gave her a look that said I didn’t need to be babied. She raised an eyebrow and frowned as if I’d surprised her. She had a slight smile on her lips as she finished filling my glass.

Mason leaned over and whispered, “You sure about that, Cali girl?” I turned my head; our faces mere inches apart. I swallowed hard, my heart humming. “I can take care of myself,” I replied.
Mason grinned, hesitating for a moment as his eyes explored my face. “Alright,” he finally said.

Shelby slid my mug back to me and winked. For some reason, I felt I’d impressed her, which was a big deal for me. Of all the Broussard kids, I wa
nted Shelby to like me the most. I expected she’d be the hardest one to convince that I wasn’t a spoiled bitch.

Once the shot glasses
had been handed out, Bitty stood in her chair, high above us and said, “Alright Kat, here’s how it goes.” Logan whistled at her, running his hand up her naked leg. She giggled, swatting at him. “Quit.” “But I love you,” he whined. Everyone laughed. Bit gave Logan a hard, playful look. “Okay, okay,” he conceded.

“Here we go!” Bit shouted, and held her shot glass over her beer. I did the same. As she counted off, she dipped down bending her knees.
“One. Two. Three!

On three, we released our shots; they cut into the beer, splashing a bit, and then we turned up our glasses and drank. I didn’t realize
until then that we were supposed to drink until the glass was empty. I thought of Dixie—the dirty looks and name calling—and kept swallowing, the coldness causing a stinging numbness in my throat. A small amount of liquid trickled from the sides of the glass and ran down my chin to my chest, wetting the top of my dress.

One by one, glasses slam
med down against the teak table. I finished my drink seconds after Dana. I was last, but I’d finished. I was applauded and cheered for, and although I’d actually accomplished nothing, at that moment, I felt I’d moved mountains and was having fun. It was the first time since I’d arrived in Slidell.

Dana covered the top of the teak table with newspaper as Russ and Ben brought the stainless steel pot from the fire. They walked on opposite sides of the table and tipped the pot, spreading the drained contents along the newspaper.

Russ clapped his hands hard and rubbed them together, “Everybody dig in,” he announced.
I had no idea what crawfish eating etiquette entailed. From the looks of it, plates and silverware didn’t apply. Mainly, I was concerned with how to crack the suckers open and what to do with the shell. I decided not to ask and give Dixie an opportunity to make fun of me, or further express her opinion on how I didn’t fit in, in Louisiana. I decided to watch what everyone else did and go from there.

Cody made quick work of a piece of corn and tossed the cob into the stainless steel pot at the end of the table.
One question answered
. Trash goes back in the pot.

“You confused, Cali girl?” Mason asked, but didn’t let me answer. “It’s simple,” he said. “Watch me.”
That wouldn’t be hard.
He picked up two crawfish and handed one of them to me. “Alright, put one hand on the tail and one on the head.” Although my crawfish was still pretty hot and stinging my fingers, I followed Mason’s direction.

“Now twist,” Mason said. I twisted the
crawfish and the head broke away from the body, which was less traumatic for me than I’d expected. 

“
This next part is up to you,” Mason winked. “Some do—some don’t.” He put the crawfish head in his mouth and made a slurping sound.

“Suck that head, Mason!” Cody shouted. Everyone laughed. Mason hummed the
crawfish head at Cody, who turned around and let it hit him in the back. “There’s good juice in the head, it’s full of flavor,” Dana piped in. “That’s what she said,” Russ chuckled, making everyone laugh louder. The others were sucking their heads, so I did it, too. “Whoo Hoo, Kat’s a head sucker!” Shelby laughed. “You’re gonna fit in just fine down here, girl.” I smiled, grateful for the compliment, then turned my attention back to Mason, waiting for further instruction.

“Now for the best part,”
Mason said. “Pinch the tail hard in a couple spots to crack it. Use your thumbs to break the shell open and then pull out the meat.” He popped his piece into his mouth and chewed it with a smile on his lips. I did the same. “Whattya think, Cali girl? Good, huh?”

“Yeah, good,” I said, and that time
, I meant it. Mason handed me another crawfish, and we repeated the process. He watched as I ran through the steps in my head. “I think you got it down,” he said as I chewed the crawfish meat, proud of myself.

Ben leaned close to Mason
, trying to speak quietly, but I heard him say that Dixie was inside and needed to talk to him. Mason picked up a piece of corn and carried it in the house with him. A few minutes later, muffled yelling coursed through the screen door. It gave me cold chills. I knew, just like everyone else, that Dixie and Mason were arguing about me—about him talking to me, or looking at me, or sitting next to me, or whatever else Dixie didn’t like him doing that involved me. “Those two,” Dana shook her head and went inside.

“I wish
Dixie’d just leave him alone already,” Crystal complained.

“It’s his fau
lt, too. He leads her on,” Bit added.

“Yeah, but how many years has Dixie
Laveau known Mason Dugas? She knows how he does,” Crystal defended.

“Whatever!” Shelby crowed. “She acts just like him.”

“You’re not helping,” Bitty said.

Shelby rolled her eyes. “
You’re not helping
,” she mimicked. Bitty rolled her eyes, too.

Moments later, Mason pushed through the screen door so hard that it smacked against the house, quieting everyone. I imagined he hadn’t meant to, but he’d gotten everyone’s attention.

“Everything alright?” Ben asked.

“Why the hell did you send me in there, man? She’s too damn drunk to spit out even five words that make any sense.”

Ben shrugged. “Because she asked me to get you.”

“She’ll be fine when she sobers up,” Shelby offered. Mason swatted at
the air, walked out to the remnants of the fire, and poked at it with the iron rod Russ had earlier.

Emotional outbursts—another reason I would add to my list for never getting wasted.

I felt sorry that Dana was stuck inside with Dixie, but from her casual reaction, fighting must have been routine for Dixie and Mason.

“So, do you really like
crawfish or were you just bein’ polite?” Shelby asked. Glad to be welcomed back into the conversation and that the subject had been changed, I smiled.

“I really do like it.
It’s been a fun night.”

“It only gets better from here, Kitty Cat,” Shelby sang, hoisting her full beer mug in the air. I was finished with the alcohol, but I ate
more crawfish, a potato, and an ear of corn. I’d also drank two glasses of tea. Dana made a small pitcher of unsweetened just for me, which was genuinely kind of her, but now I had to pee. I’d stalled as long as I could, but I couldn’t wait any longer. It had been quiet inside for a while; I hoped the silence meant it was safe for me to go in.

Dana was in the kitchen talking on the phone. Ben was
snoring, stretched out on the living room couch, and Dixie was asleep on the pull out sofa in Bit and Shelby’s room.

After finishing in the bathroom, I decided to go to bed, too. Things were winding down outside anyway. I put on my pajamas
—boy shorts and a tank top in black, and thought about checking my phone, but figured it would have been pointless. I got in bed, curved onto my side, and quickly dozed off.

Later, I felt a slight
weight fall against my shoulder. “You look cold,” I heard, and agreed in my head, feeling the tingling sensation of my body warming beneath the blanket. Then I realized whose voice I’d heard and woke right up.

“What are you doing in here?” I whisper yelled.

“Goin’ to sleep,” Mason said, pulling the afghan from the back of the recliner in the corner before plopping down in it.

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Well, there’s nowhere else for me to sleep and Momma D hid my keys, so I can’t go home.”

“Because you were drinking.”

“Three hours ago,” he protested. “And bein’ angry burns up alcohol like fire does gasoline, Cali girl. I’m sober as a judge right now.” I had no idea what that meant, but whatever. This was not the time for me to delve into a conversation about Southern sayings.

“This is the room I used
to crash in before you showed up.”

“Sorry,” I growled. “But you can’t stay in here.”

“Why the hell not?”

“What will you coming out of my room in the morning look like?”

“Worried about perception, huh?” Mason smirked. “Figures,” he added under his breath.

“What I’m worried about is pissing everyone off.”
And by everyone, I meant Dixie
.

A grin tugged at the corner of Mason’s mouth.
“And you think that me sleepin’ in a chair six feet away from you will have the whole place up in arms?” He laughed, “You do know that I only came in here to sleep, right?”
Maybe he and Dixie were just alike.

“I don’t care why you came in here. I was
only trying to be nice!” I snapped.

“N
ice—by tryin’ to kick me out?”

“I just thought that
since you and Dixie were arguing about me earlier that sleeping somewhere else would save you some grief.”

“Whoa, hold up a minute.” Mason sat straight up in the chair, causing it to rock forward. “What makes you think we we
re arguin’ about you?”

It hadn’t occurred to me that they’d been fighting about
something other than me, which was embarrassing. I was glad there wasn’t enough light in the room for Mason to see the crimson blush covering my face.

“You might think so, Cali girl, and it may have been that way out in Malibu, but here not everything
’s gonna be about you,” he said, his tone a little cold.

My feelings hurt;
I swallowed hard, taken aback. I thought Mason liked me, that he’d felt the spark between us when we met. Frankly, I thought everyone had noticed our chemistry, and that was why Dixie had been such a bitch to me from the start, but I guess it had nothing to do with me.

Mason leaned back in the chair, pulled the afghan to his chin, and closed his eyes. I rolled over, facing the wall and prayed I wouldn’t cry and that my dad would be okay and I
’d get to go home soon. I desperately wanted my life to return to normal. I wanted to sleep in my own bed, drive my car, and see my friends—Olivia most of all.

“Let’s sit on the porch,” Dana said
, and rolled up the shade on the front door before opening it for me. She handed me a tall glass of unsweetened tea with a lemon wedge neatly perched on the rim. We sat down in folding chairs on opposite ends of a tiny wicker table.

Mason was in the side yard washing his truck. I didn’t care to see him after what he’d said to me last night. My ego was still slightly stinging. He was gone from Garrett’s room when I woke up. The afghan was back in place on the recliner as if he’d never been there at all, and for a moment I questioned whether I’d dreamt our conversation. Unfortunately, I hadn’t.

“So,” Dana smiled. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” I said, lightly. I hated lying to her because she’d been so nice to me, but admitting that I was on the edge of miserable wouldn’t have done anyone any good. Especially since there was nothing any of us could do about it.

“Thank you for letting me
stay here.”

“You’re more than welcome. To me, there’s
nothin’ better than havin’ a houseful of kids runnin’ around. The more the merrier,” she added and chuckled. “I know you’re anxious to get back home, but I want you to know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

“Thank you.” I
appreciated her hospitality, but was desperate to go home.

“
I know what it’s like to miss somebody. My husband, Tommy, works out on the oil rigs. He’s gone two or three months at a time. It’s where he is now. Neither of us likes it, but we do what we have to, to keep things runnin’ around here,” she said and took a drink of her tea. I’d wondered where Mr. Broussard was, but couldn’t bring myself to ask. His whereabouts were none of my business.

Mason stepped in front of us with a set of keys dangling from his index finger. He was shirtless and a little sweaty. I made sure not to make eye contact with him
, but I did stare pretty hard at the muscles in his stomach.