As I?d expected Saturday I was had been busier than a one-legged man at an ass kickin? contest. The flowers were the first order of business, sent two dozen, since she had two offices, red to the residential, and white to the commercial side. Every woman I?ve ever known loved flowers, and I hoped that she was no exception to that. I called a cab, as I didn?t trust drivers in this town yet, to take that Firebird out with the ice and snow around, and went shopping afterward.

The furniture store was crowded. Couples who looked for the perfect living room set, and old women that looked for a table for the Bridge Club on Thursdays. I was somewhat of a standout and the salesman took note of that.

?Waiting on the wife?? He asked me, to which I simply replied, No.

?Oh, your life partner then?? He asked as if it was the most common thing around.

?Do I really look like I bat for the home team?? My brows rose as he shook his head.

?No Sir, I just assumed....?

?Yeah, well remember what they say about that.?

I walked through the store with this guy following me and pointing out various things that he thought I wanted when I knew exactly what it was that I wanted.

I found a heavy wood desk made out of some form of wood I?d never seen. A leather, adjustable desk chair, and a few things for the people in the waiting room to sit in while they waited, should I get busy. A dark burgundy couch, and the same kind of wood end tables, along with lamps, a couple of matching high wingback chairs, and a nearly black coffee table for the middle of the room, in case I had to chase someone from the office and really give my shin a good crack on the way out the door.

He was all smiles and nods as I picked things out, some expensive, some not, but either way he scored a nice commission check. The artwork they had on display I found not to my taste so I knew there would be more stops on the way back. As I completed my purchases I decided to hand the man my business card, one, for the address for delivery, and two, just in case I could get my money back from the Joker.

I just knew it was going to be a busy, and hellish day, and I wasn?t far off the mark.

The next stop, would be for office supplies.

I woke the next morning feeling a little sore from the fight and from sleeping on the couch. I think it was more from the fight, as Bandito and I found the couch pretty comfortable after we both had bacon cheeseburger from some all night choke and puke. Since the sun had decided to light the office, I had no choice except to wake up and face the day.

Mental note, heavy drapes when I get the bedroom set up at the warehouse.

Bandito watched me as I gathered the strength to swing my legs over to the floor from the warmth of my coat. He had been wet, beat, poked, and wandering the streets far too long, so I decided he needed the cover worse than I did.

"Good mornin', Handsome," I said to him and watched as the tail of my coat lifted and fell with his tail. "Glad to know neither of us are mornin' people."

Since the light was better than it had been last night, I could see clearly, and without a doubt he was a Pit. Damn good dogs, highly intelligent, protective, and born with a bad rap. Back home when one would snap at some kid, or worse... they would show pictures of some wild looking pit, or some snarling beast they had plucked from the web, and look sad for the victim, but like the Hangin' Judge for the owner. What they never told you was how the Pit was brought up, or what the "Victim" had done to piss the thing off. I bet last night's rectal fedoras would have gotten torn to hell if they hadn't had their sticks.

"You don't have to worry about that anymore, huh?" He lifted his head and looked at me as I talked to him again. "It's me and you against the world. Reckon you can handle being my sidekick?" Bandito cocked his head to the side, and in that look in those yellow gold eyes, I knew I was his sidekick. "Okay, but you gotta look cute, not scary, and help me get the chicks, deal?" I stuck my hand over to him, and after a sniff and inspection for food, he stuck his white tipped paw in my palm. "Deal."

Now, the next half an hour or so would have been entertaining for someone had they been watching. For me and him, it was something we'd never forget. Eighty pounds of gray-blue fur and muscle, me, a wash basin in the office bathroom. He got his bath, and I got mine. At least I knew I wouldn't have fleas and ticks, plus the aroma wasn't half bad either. I took care as I doctored his injuries after drying him as best I could, only to be rewarded with a smear of dog spit, and meaty treats up the side of my head.

So far our relationship was off to an interesting start.

After a trip outside for a smoke and Bandito to water and fertilize the landscaping, I sat at my desk with him curled in front of the small ceramic heater. I spent the rest of the morning looking for files on known perps of the area, crime rates, and most of all, work.

After so many times of smashing your fingers with a hammer, you stop feeling it.

After so many times being shocked from bare wires, you start looking forward to it to relieve soreness from your muscles.

After you fall off the ladder and come to with your dog licking your face, you should know it?s time to call it quits for the day, and go have a beer.

And even in the hopes that I should run into Fiora, well, all the better. She?s always good for eye candy, pleasant enough conversation, and well... confusion. I think she?s into me, but I don?t know that for sure.

I don?t know why I love women
That love to do me wrong.
Don?t know why my life sounds like a
heartbroke country song.
I ain?t really happy,
Unless the sky starts driving rain.
Maybe I just get off on the pain.

I stared at the stereo, and shook my head. Since I?d been here, at least I found something worth listening to, but I think maybe there?s something more to it than I realize. It just seemed like when you were thinking certain things, or feeling certain ways, the songs came on to match.

My whole life, I been pickin fights,
there ain?t no way to win.
Got a hundred scars I should have run away,
now tattooed on my skin.
There?s a side of me that just won?t stop,
dancin? in the flame.
Maybe I just get off on the pain.

While the song played I looked at my shirt, the knife slash was stitched, but it was still there. Coulda easily been another scar, from saving a dog. I wouldn?t have done it any other way. I ran a hand under my shirt toward my chest and felt that jagged scar, and remembered the night on the bridge in New Orleans, routine traffic stop, that nearly cost me my life, and did cost me a wife. She couldn?t handle being married to a cop, that was always trying to do the right thing, and protect people, or dogs. I chuckled as I looked over at Bandito.

?Who is luckiest, me or you?? I asked him, only to be answered with a lick to my hand. ?Yeah, was tinkin? that same thing, Boudreux.? I scratched the top of his head.


Cause I love the long shot,
and the left out lost causes.
Hangin? out at the back of the pack with the dark horses.
I ride the wrong road, just as fast as I can.
God knows there?s no one else to blame.
Sometimes I think I get off on the pain.

My mind drifted back to Fiora. Maybe I was reading more into her actions and looks, or compliments than I should. I mean there?s that Doc in the building. Handsome guy, obviously in shape, something doesn?t feel right to me about him, but I think it?s just the fact he?s a brain picker, and I had too many run ins with them on the force. Or, maybe I?m treadin? on his territory, I can?t help but to think I?m a better looker, but there again, they never seem to be a dating couple, or anything, and come to think of it, she?s treated him the same way that she?s treated me.

God, what a tangled web for a man in town a couple weeks now.

Wake up every morning, a thousand miles from home.
Praying for forgiveness,
for this aching in my bones.
It would be so easy,
to find a better way,
Oh but I know I?ll never change...

True enough Gary Allan said it best, I?ll never change and just like my dog, when I see what I want, I go for it. What?s the worst that could happen?

Find out she?s dating the Doc? Find out she?s not looking to date?

Get punched in the face by Doc, for treading on his playground?

Well, Lucas James Boudreux Junior has been punched, kicked, knifed shot, nearly hanged...
One time in Mississippi, she said she was eighteen and single...

I ain?t backin? down now, things are goin? too good.

Cause I love the long shot,
and the left out lost causes.
Hangin out at the back of the pack with the dark horses.
I ride the wrong road, just as fast as I can.
God knows there?s no one else to blame,
Sometimes I think I just get off on the pain.




((Lyrics Gary Allan, "Get Off On The Pain"))

Victoria M Fox, or Vicky as she introduced herself to me.

She had long, dark hair, and soulful green eyes. She was dressed in a skirt, and nice blouse. Heels weren?t too tall, nor too short, just enough to accentuate her toned calves and the rest of her shapely figure.

I had asked her to meet me at one of the many coffee shop slash diners that seem to decorate this town, and not only was she on time, but she was early.

I was reading the Post, and drinking coffee, breakfast was finished a long time prior, when she walked in. The man in me, immediately noticed the woman. Something about the way she held herself, and her easy smile when she noticed me watching her.

?Mister Boudreux?? she asked tentatively.

?You must be Miss Fox,? I said as I folded my paper and stood, offering her a hand.

She took my hand in a brief shake, ?Vicky, please.?

?You are here early,? I said with a smile, letting my half ass, crooked charming self out of the cell. ?That?s a good sign.?

?First impressions,? she said, matching my smile.

She was subtle in her movements, but her eyes looked me over, then made sure of her surroundings on more than one occasion. I thought about asking, but I figured some people, just have a natural awareness of their environment.

?So to work for me, it?s lingerie and garter belts, Victoria. Would that be a problem for you?? I was even letting more of my cajun, southern accent shine.

?Will you be dressed to match?? she asked with a surprisingly straight face. I already liked her, and her humor.

?I am more of a boxer-brief kind of man.? We both laughed.

?Would you like breakfast? Coffee?? I asked, finally remembering why I chose a casual place to meet her, instead of the office.

She nodded her head. ?Coffee, please.?

I caught the waitress? attention and ordered a warm up for myself and a cup for my new secretary. I already decided after meeting a few freaks and other things that gave me the creeps that this woman had the job, I just hadn?t told her yet.

?The job may require you to have a gun.? I said, ?for protection. I don?t know about here, but back home, there were some unsavory types that often saw the error in their ways when facing blued steel.? Her eyes widened a bit, and she nodded.

?You will be teaching me how to use it then?? she asked, and I was doing my damndest not to think of standing behind her, her body in front of mine, as my hands were on her arms, showing her how to target.

?Yes, we can go to the range or whatever.? I said, trying not to sound too eager.

The rest of the interview was good. We laughed, and I learned more about her skills and qualifications for the job. She stuck to the hear and now, not mentioning her past, and that was fine with me, it would be something to get to know over time.

?I really need this job, Luke,? she said, and for the first time I saw a flash of something in those gorgeous eyes. ?I?ve got bills to pay, and I don?t want to work stripping, or anything else of that nature.?

Again, I was doing my best not to think of her on a stage, surrounded by smoke, flashing lights and a driving beat.

?The job?s yours, Vick.? I watched her face light up. ?And,? I gave a dramatic sigh, ?You can keep your clothes on.? She laughed and took my hand for an enthusiastic shake.

?You won?t be disappointed, I swear!?

And that, is how I met Victoria M. Fox.

Today was a day that I woke up with a hangover and as I nursed it, tried to figure out where my life was going here. I have leads, even a couple of cheating spouse, easy money, cases.

My life is great. The house is awesome, even bought a new...well new to me, car that is sitting next to the Firebird as a project. Something to keep my mind off of everything else. And in this case, "Everything Else," is just the women I know, some romantic inclinations, some not.

Audrey Horne.

Audrey is a throwback to the early Sixties to me. She looks the part, classic beauty, that birthmark, and her hair always styled for a few decades ago. She's curved, seems intelligent when we've spoken, and if things were different, I may have tried to get to know her better.

Nina Granger.

I had to ask around about her, and her last name seems to be a new name of many faces with old money. Textiles and things, and I am betting more than that. Every big family like that, has large, nasty secrets. Now, Nina... she and I have been talking, and she's flirty, but not overly so. She was a model she said, and rich. Rich caught my attention, but money isn't everything. I read somewhere that money can't buy happiness, but it sure as hell lets you be miserable in some really cool places. A little more diggin' I found out that she's only Nineteen, kinda makes me a dirty ol' man. But we are supposed to go out sometime... no telling how that'll go.

Fiora Shantalaine

Really the first woman I met here, and by far she's probably the most energetic. Its like there is something there, but I can't nail her down to find out. There's been a couple of toe curlin' kisses, and plenty of tension, and attraction, but there's also Doc Shilo lurking in the background. I don't know how I feel about being in a triangle of sh*t. People get jealous, angry, and find out they don't play well with others.

Recently, Victoria M. Fox.

My newly hired, super secretive, secretary. She's easy on the eyes, and has my wit, as well as my humor. I think I have something clever to say, she counters it like I was sitting in a corner, drooling on myself. I've been doing some research on her, and I don't know if it's because of this area, or the fact that she's new here, and no records have been found on her, but it's like she doesn't exist. She's pretty much my equal, and I find that intriguing, and I can't wait to find out more about her.

So yeah, today is a day of quiet contemplation, and coffee.

Snow.

Snow.

Snow.

Just to change it up, add blue ass cold.

I am sittin here, still wearing that God damned tie, with a glass in my hand, staring out over a frozen wasteland at night. My Side of town, well not much goes on out here at night, and that was another selling point.

The Gala, was a huge success for Fiora, and for that I'm glad. We decided sort of last minute I'd be her "Date." Really it wasn't much of a date, I just stood back, and let her weave her charisma like a spell over the people there, interested in booze, eats, and new business, or businesses. My own card found its way into a few purses, coat pockets and palms. Where it went from there, who knows?

I checked out early, leavin' my new friend Rhys... I don't know, last name, first name whatever... but in what appeared to be the capable hands of a spunky little blonde named Quinn, pretty sure that's a first name. He was smiles and beers when I left, a perfectly good bottle of 1942 on the bar, I hope that they had the good graces to take it with them where ever they were headed. I feel sort of bad, I didn't really tell anyone I was leaving, I just got that feeling of unsocial jack-ass, and left. Fi was still working the diminishing crowd, Quinn and Rhys were yuckin' it up, Quinn's friend, well... I am not sure what she was doing.

Maybe I'm crazy for thinkin' that I could make a life here, and a go of it. I mean spoiled rich kid all my life, now here, trying to prove stuff to a man that isn't around to see it? It was then that my new desk chair went from under me, and my skull met that heavy damn oak desk I bought at an antique store. The world started to get black and red around the edges, and that damn stereo started up...


"I've always been crazy and the trouble that its put me through.
Been busted for things that I did and I didn't do.
I can't say I'm proud of all of the things that I've done,
But I can say I've never intentionally hurt anyone.
I've always been different with one foot over the line.
Winding up somewhere with one step ahead or behind.
It ain't been so easy, but I guess I shouldn't complain.
I've always been crazy, but it's kept me from going insane."




(Lyrics, "I've Always Been Crazy" By Waylon Jennings.

Funny thing about staying in a place like this. Anything you want you?ll find, for the right price. Dinner had to be perfect, no half-assed cooking like I always did for Bandito and I. No, this had to be the real deal, something to make my Grandmammy proud.

The first shop I walked into looked at me like I was insane when I asked for Mudbugs. I knew that most people called them Crayfish or Crawdads, but I had to see if the person I was dealing with knew their product. It took three shops in the Star?s End Sector, before I found a man by the name of Jean Luc, and he boasted the finest Mudbugs in all of Rhydin Proper. I bought three pounds, even though the woman I was enjoying dinner with was no bigger than a minute, and he gave me another four pounds of blue crab.

?Cousin done caught too much blue tryin? to catch de shrimp,? He explained. ?Tore dem nets up, but made a good haul.? I laughed, listening to the man talk, and wondered if that?s what I sounded like to people around here. After a few minutes, I realized I didn?t care.

His shop had nearly everything I needed and wanted to cook, and after paying for my purchases, I took his card, and told him I?d call ahead next time, so I didn?t dent his inventory so badly.

?Boudreux, yall kin come down cheer any times, and we can sit on yon porch and visit while we wait,? He said, as he offered me a hand. I shook the man?s hand, smiling and agreeing. It would be nice to talk to a dyed-in-the-wool Coon Ass, when I felt homesick.

The bags were loaded into the trunk of the car, seeing as I had the top down and didn?t want to listen to the windblown plastic, competing with exhaust note and whatever music the haunted stereo decided I needed to hear. As I turned the key, I mused over what could come through at any time. ?Waiting, For a Girl Like You? or ?Wonderful Tonight,? I chuckled to myself, and hoped it wasn?t ?Devil Woman.? I?d had enough of those.

I started toward home, reflecting on the night prior. Harmless flirts, conversation about everything and nothing. Learning more about the other person and just feeling good about doing so. I found myself smiling, as I reached for my sunglasses and it was right then that the stereo chose my song - The soft keyboard beginnings of ?First Time,? By Styx. I just stared at the thing, then cracked up laughing, and quite possibly looked like the craziest man to ever enter Rhydin.

?The lights are low, and we?re alone. The fire?s glow, it keeps us warm. And I reach out to touch your face, the moon lights up our first embrace...?

I was singing along, even though I had to laugh. Something told me the night was going to be better than I expected it to be.

The sound of the deck riffling from my office was the only thing heard in the Plaza. No wild clicking of Fiora?s heels as she moved about. No smooth oiled slide of Doc Shilo?s Weight machine. Apparently people had appointments that took them away from the offices, and that new receptionist was pretty quiet, just like the old one had been.

I thought of an old routine by Penn and Teller, and had to laugh as I started shuffling the deck again, preparing to start dealing for a non-existant playmate. Penn was on bass, playing a nice little walking beat, and Teller, the quiet one, was on center stage, with a cigarette in his mouth. He started moving as Penn started talking. Going through each and every motion as smoothly and naturally as anyone would. That was the key to slight of hand, smoothness.

?Palm, To hold an object in an apparently empty hand,? I held the Ace of Spades easily in my left hand while I Hindu shuffled the deck again. All the work I could be doing, and I was too busy learning how to be sneakier than sharp eyesight. ?Steal, to secretly obtain a needed object,? I said as I moved the Ace to my right hand. ?Load, to secretly move an object where it is needed.? I slid the Ace into the shuffle, second card into the deck.
?Misdirection, to lead attention away from a secret move.? I finally lifted my glass of orange juice for a sip, with my left, smiling with thoughts of those flame blue eyes watching me, and switched the Queen on the bottom of the deck, to the forth card in the deck. ?That covers one game.? I laughed lightly to myself, and started practicing other card moves.

It had been a whirlwind couple of weeks, and honestly, I had started losing track of one day into the next. We laughed a lot, and everything just seemed to flow along naturally. It?d been nice having her stay with me, and God knows that crazy mutt of mine loved her from the first night. Venison Jerky plus Bandito equaled friend for life. The days I was at the office, I would get home late, and find her and the dog as they played fetch. She had surprised me with lunch at the office, and had even made breakfast a couple of times. Intimate moments that are best shared with one person, but still it causes my smile to spread thinking about it, and waiting for the next. Again, life has started to look good, and on the Up, even if I haven?t won the Champion of the Week...yet.

There was a trust, and understanding with us. A bond that grew stronger every day, by leaps and bounds. People that don?t know will doubt. People who do know, will question. But what?s important to me on us and our lives, is our decisions to do it how we want to, and to live by our rules.

Baillou aux Canes, Louisiana.
May, 1982.


The air was so thick it seemed to cling to us, as we came closer to the old shack. The rusted corrugated tin seemed to be another tetanus shot waiting to happen, and the snakes hung off the cypress, thick like sausage on smokehouse walls.

?Come on, Luke, You lost the bet,? Johnny Tyler poked me with the paddle, and it took all I had not to jump clean out of my skin. I could swear there was someone moving around that old, fallen shack, and that there were a thousand eyes watching me.

?I ain?t swimmin? to the damn thing!? I said in my best bravado. All us boys used the language of our fathers when we weren?t close to the house. Seemed that everything happened out in the Bayous, away from home like Huck and Tom. ?You saw the gators we passed, moccasins too!? Snakes were the least of my concerns if Madame LeBeux was home.

?Gators and snakes?? Johnny spit into the black water.

?Come on Johnny, don?t make him swim it, she?s got a dock there,? Jimmy Tyler, Johnny?s little brother spoke up then.

?Like there ain?t no damned snakes on that plank of wood, out there sunnin?.? Johnny argued as he paddled them closer, his own skin beginning to crawl with things unseen and mind tricks of his own making.

The canoe bumped the wood that made up the low water dock and I stared out across the water again, before I looked up at the early summer sun. It could be my last time to see it before winding up a zombie, or ghoul even. There was another poke with the wet paddle.
?C?mon, Smartass! You said you wasn?t scared!? Johnny grinned maliciously, knowing that even at the age of eleven, I hated being called a coward, or scared.

I stood in the canoe, rocking it slightly before I bent for the other paddle and took it into my hands, for snakes and such, and carefully tested the moss-covered wood of the dock, and found it surprisingly sturdy. One Nike followed the other and as I stepped from the canoe, it floated away slightly.

?Damn it, Johnny, don?t you leave!? I brandished the extra paddle like a gladiator would his sword.

?You?re the one that pushed us away, Nimrod!? Johnny paddled back to the dock, and carefully tied the canoe to a cypress stump near it. ?Besides, I wouldn?t miss this for nothin?! They say she?s two hunnert years old!? Johnny was too excited, and I was more concerned with falling off the slick dock into some waiting, monster gator?s jaws for a death roll.

My shoes slipped in the moss as I made my way toward the shack. The screen was off of the door, and leaning against the outer wall, and what was left of an old rocker was near a broken window. Shadows carved out deep hollows on the porch and seemed to move as I got closer to that shack, and even in the heat, I felt a chill as it ran the length of my spine. I lifted my right foot to step onto the porch, the board under my left creaked, the broke in a loud crack, sending my leg into the black water as well as cutting the back of it on an old nail on the way down.

?Son of a bitch!? I cried out, as I jerked my leg up from the water, cutting it a second time on the nail.

Jimmy almost flipped the canoe and Johnny fought to keep that from happening. Both boys were sure that I was about to be lost to the black depths.
?You a?ight, Luke?? Johnny asked after he smacked his little brother.

?Just cut my leg?s all.? I answered, looking back from the canoe to realize I was standing on the old witch?s porch. ?Okay, I made it, I am on her porch, let?s get out of here, so I can get a bandaid.? The scratch and cut on my leg would take a box of bandaids, but I was just wanting to get away from the old place before it fell down around me.

There was a creak of wood from behind me then, and slowly I turned to look at that old rocker as it moved slightly as if someone just took a seat, and I could have sworn I heard foot steps from inside the shack.

?No way!? Johnny laughed, ?The deal was you go in, or I get your bike.? My thoughts turned to my chromoly, red accented Mongoose and fought the urge to just give it to him so I could get one of the new California GT Performers I?d heard about, but I loved that bike.

?Fine, dammit,? I stood up as straight as I could, and felt the water mix with my blood, and knew I was going to turn into the Swamp Thing later, but slowly made my way across the rickety porch to the front door.

There were holes in the porch, they seemed to be deep and endless as I looked into them, being careful to step around. I could hear things skitter away, as well as the shift and settle of the tin walls even with my light weight. There were cards scattered around the entrance some were face down, others were face up. The one that caught my eye was a man, hanging by one foot, between two trees with six branches cut off around him. His arms were behind his back, one leg, the same I?d cut was folded behind the other, and his hair hung freely.

?Le Pendu,? I read the lettering under his picture, before I heard another sound, and looked the direction of the door.

The hiss was heard first, then I saw the rows of teeth, and green mossy covered scales. The big gator slid out of the shack, and stopped when it saw me, no more than a few feet away.

?Christ Luke, it?s Swamp Fiend!? Johnny exclaimed as he was trying feverishly to untie the canoe.

?Madame LeBeux?s pet gator!? Jimmy shouted, ?Run Luke, run!?

Their voices seemed far away as I stared into the slit pupil eye that rested on the large, black head. The yellow around it?s mouth seemed wet with saliva. It opened it?s mouth as it turned it?s head toward me, and I broke into a blind run toward the sound of my friends, dropping the paddle in the process.

?Zig zag, Luke!? Johnny shouted. ?They can?t give chase if you zig!? I heard him say, and while I made my way for the narrow dock, I remember thinking the only way I could do that was getting into the water, and I sure wasn?t going into that thing?s habitat.

I could hear the slide of scales and the scratch of huge claws, and I swore I could feel its foul, hot breath on the backs of my legs. I knew it had the scent of my blood and would follow me until my final days as an old man on the planet. The moss covered wood, bowed and bent as I ran across it and jumped into the canoe, causing it to rock and threaten to spill us. Johnny started paddling as best he could, and as I turned to look behind me, I could see the shadow of someone in the door, but the big gator was no where to be seen.

?Where is he?? I asked, looking into the black water behind us first, then to either side.

?I don?t know, but we ain?t staying to look for him!? Johnny said, while his little brother cried quietly.

The rest of the trip was quiet, until we started seeing the familiar sights around our homes, the bridge we fished from, the trees we climbed, and even the path that lead to our secret club.

?Ain?t never seen anyone move so fast as you did, Luke. You seen that gator and lit out like your feet was a fire, and your ass was catchin?.? Johnny laughed, and even Jimmy giggled. ?Ol? Swamp Witch was nearly gonna get to add you to her jambalaya, and your eyes to her stew!?

My leg hurt, and I still wasn?t sure that big old gator wasn?t following us. ?Shut up, Johnny.?

For the next two days, I was in bed. Being in bed at that age, sick was no fun. My friends would come by to check on me, only to have my father tell them that I could not be bothered right then. They were all worried, but that was of no matter to Lucas James Boudreux, Senior. I really wish that I stayed with my grandparents, as I looked around my bedroom at all of my things. The old man, as I called him, didn?t know what to do with me, so he just threw money at me, giving me whatever it was I pointed at, after all, I?d heard that old saying He who dies with the most toys, wins. While laying in my bed, I wondered if I was about to win.

The Tyler?s had gone on their family vacation, and Scott had managed to get himself in trouble, so getting the canoe back to the water was a little harder than it should have been. I was still weak from being sick, but I knew that I had to go back to that old shack, try somehow to free myself of the curse I knew was on my young head.

I pushed the canoe through the algae bloom and reeds took the returned paddle into my hands and made my way back through the black water, toward LaBeux? old, rusted shack. The swamp was quiet, like there wasn?t a breath of breeze to make the area sigh. The only signs of life were the black gators swimming slowly past, bullfrogs jumping into the safety of the water as I passed, and big snapping turtles, crammed onto stumps out of the water, sunning themselves.

My mind raced with every move of the cattails and reed, knowing that big gator that had a taste for my blood was going to flip the canoe and take me under, but I finally made my way back to where I?d run into it, I had to stare, there was a fourteen foot long flatboat, with an Evinrude motor on the back, some lumber inside, and the screen that had been leaning on the porch wall, was now in its rightful place over the door. I twisted the paddle in my hands to turn the canoe around, to start moving away as silently as I had came in, but the slam of that old screen door, and a man?s voice caught my attention.

?You from de bank?? He asked, before putting on his glasses and looking again. ?Oh, it?s you.? He said with a smile that seemed to crack his old, dry, black face. ?I knew you?d be back, you dat curious one.? He laughed then. ?You leavin? or comin? closer, boy??

I wanted to run. I wished that I could just disappear like those ninjas and other things I?d read about, but I sat there, staring at him the same way that deer stood there in Gramp?s old Ford truck?s headlights the night we hit it.

?That what I thought,? He laughed again. ?C?mon o?er here and sit a while.? He said with a motion of his hand, and he was right, I was the curious one, so I paddled closer.

?My father knows I am out here,? I lied. ?If I am not back soon, he will send in the Army.?

?Den time, she be short huh??

I noticed that the dock had been cleaned and repaired, even had a new tie down, opposite the flatboat.

?That gator going to get me if I tie off on your dock?? I asked, with no bravado in my voice, my eyes on the black water and not him.

He spit and mumbled under his breath. ?Dat rotten ting, tore up my cabin and ate some o? my grocery and other tings!? I couldn?t imagine a gator eating someone?s food, but Scott said he?d seen one eat a car once, so why not foodstuffs?

I tied the canoe in a one pull knot, in case I had to make a fast getaway, and stepped out onto the dock. I could smell a wood fire, and spices of something cooking, but I couldn?t place what it was, and the old rocker the man sat in, was repaired with a new carved cypress leg.
?Boy, grab dat chair from de boat, and come on up here in the shade.? He instructed and on the floor of the flatboat, next to some catfish in a bucket was a well used, webbed chair. ?I didn?t mean for the scarin? I give you and your friends.? I turned to look at him then after picking up the chair and inspecting for spiders or other biting things.

?So it was you!? I pointed at him, but then frowned. ?I thought this was Madame LeBeux? shack,? I admitted, knowing now that my friends and I just trespassed on some old black guy?s house.

?LeBeux?? He clicked his tongue and laughed. ?Tis Laveau, Boy.?

I?d heard the name, but it didn?t register, until my mind snapped back to the cards and things that had been scattered around the door, and I swallowed hard. ?Marie?? I asked quietly.

?Charles!? He said with a laugh. ?Ain?t Marie, other than spirit, she ain?t been here since,? he scratched at the white growth of beard on his chin in thought, ?Well long time gone, now.?

?She was your mother?? I asked, stepping closer.

?Great-Grandmammy,? He nodded proudly. ?Legend she was.?

My mind kicked into overdrive again. A real live descendent of New Orleans Voodoo Queen, right there with me. He could turn me into a bullfrog, and no one would ever know what happened to me. I?d be like one of those kids on the milk cartons, and my friends would see my face occasionally with their Frosted Flakes. I wondered if they?d even miss me.

?You okay boy?? He snapped his fingers at me, and caused me to jump, and nod. ?You look like you seen a ghostie.?

I swallowed the urge to scream and fought the rising want to run to the canoe and see if I could paddle faster than his magic could get me, so I just nodded. ?You were taken ill, past few days huh?? He asked and again I nodded mutely. ?I was wonderin? who I smelt de fever on.? He smiled. ?Your color still ain? quite right.?

I folded the chair open and sat a couple of feet from him, so I could watch him, and the door, just to be sure that gator wasn?t going to sneak out, before it dawned on me that my back was to the water, and the big beast could just come up, open his jaws and take me in one bite so I turned the chair around to the wall of the cabin.

?Your Grandma, was she a witch?? I asked, watching the man?s face, and committing it to memory. Other than knowing who he was, he was the sort of guy we would pass on the streets every day. Overalls, sweat soaked work shirt, worn boots, and ashen dark skin.

?She was many tings, boy,? He smiled.

?Luke.? I offered my name, then cursed my mother?s instilling of good manners.

?I thought so!? He chuckled again. ?You son of Boudreux Worldwide.? He knew my father?s company, if there was going to be a ransom, he knew the old man had money, and I nodded. ?I am Junior.? Charles offered his hand in greeting then, and I shook it, the way that my dad had taught me, look the man in the eye, shake once, and release. Charles just smiled.

?Gonna be a businessman like your da, den?? He took a pouch from his pocket and I was relieved when I saw he was just rolling his own cigarette like my Uncle Ken always did, and shook my head.

?I am going to be like Indiana Jones,? I said, and watched him strike a match against his growth of a beard in awe. ?How?d you do that??

?Practice,? He said in a smokey breath that blew out the match. ?Are you from Indiana then??

?What??

?Indiana Jones? I think Boudreux is a fine name...? I cut him off as I started laughing, and even more with the confused look on his face.

?You haven?t seen Indiana Jones??

?I was only in Indiana once, and I am sure some o? dem was named Jones.?

?No! It is a movie! They are playin? it over at The Joy, where they showed Jaws!?

?Ah, flicker show!? Charles nodded. ?What?s this Indiana George do?? He took a deep breath of the tobacco, while dark eyes watched me.

?Jones!? I started laughing again. ?He goes out and finds treasures in the sand. He found the Ark of the Covenant in this movie, while fighting Nazi?s and saving his girlfriend.? I took a breath and rattled on about the monkey, some Nazi that burned his hand on a medallion he was trying to steal, some big guy doing fancy moves with a huge sword only to get shot, and how at the end, they were all killed by spirits and God?s magic.

?So Jones dies??

?No, the ropes are burned away, but he?s fine with Marion.?

?You believe in de magic?? He smiled at me as he flicked the cigarette into the water, and I nodded slightly. ?Like witches, yeah?? He chuckled. ?Marie was an Oracle, Luke. She could see futures, and made charms and potions,? I just stared at him, seeing the future would be something. I could see who I would marry, when cars were going to fly, who would win the World Series in the year 2081. ? and gris-gris,? He finished.

?What is that??

?Talisman, juju.? He said, like that explained it all, and looked at me to see if I understood, the look on my face told him I did not. ?Come inside, I will show ya.? He stood from the rocker slowly, and shuffled toward the door. He stopped when I didn?t move from the chair, ?Ol? Handbag ain?t in m?ouse now,? He held the screen open.

?Handbag?? I asked as I blinked at him.

?That gator what tore my place up,? He nodded. ?That all he be when I find him.? He laughed, and I found myself laughing with him. Picturing this old black man, making a few hundred handbags from that big, black gator. I pushed up from the chair and made my way to the door. Johnny, Jimmy, and Scott would never believe this.

Charles sat down on an old box behind the table that held the candles, tarot deck and that crystal ball, that kept drawing my eyes like a moth to a porch light.

?Let me see what de crystal says about you, Mister Boudreux,? He said, and I had to smile. No one ever called me ?Mister.? It was something they called my father, I was always Lucas, Luke, or ?Angela, can you get him out of here please, I have work to do!?. I never understood why he insisted on calling my mother by her middle name. ?Dat is if it be okay with you?? He was watching me and I only nodded. I wanted to know more about what could happen, or would happen.

He leaned back and watched the crystal for a long time. Nothing like I?d seen in movies, he wasn?t waving his arms around, there was no sudden appearance of smoke inside the sphere, it was just a man staring at a round ball of glass.

?Hmm,? He said. ?Dat be interestin?.?

?What?? I asked after swallowing the lump in my throat.

?Says you are goin? to face many challenges in the years ahead, Luke.? He leveled his gaze on me. ?Get into trouble, yourself, and with friends. Some of dose ya call friend, dey gonna turn on ya. In the dark, you gonna be da hero, but in followin? days, de villain.? He sighed and shook his head.

?Villain?? My thoughts raced and my heart pounded. Villain like Megatron, or like Rutger Hauer in Nighthawks? Maybe like Jason Vorhees, I?d just grow up get a hockey mask and run around the bayous stabbing people or cutting them up with big knife like the one he used. Maybe I could move to London, and get away from my destiny of villainy, but then what if I became a werewolf?

?Villain could be just the guy that does the right thing, but is seen a bad guy to those that were doin? bad. You know like de police that stood up against their other brothers that done bad in Brixton, or even de news from Texas. Seems dem police like to abuse dey powah.?
?With great power, comes great responsibility.? I said quietly.

?Ben Parker knows his stuff,? Charles said with a nod and wink.

?You know what I?m talking about?? I was shocked, and staring at him.

?Sure do,? another nod was given. ?Comic books been around a long time, boy.? He looked at the ball again, and chuckled once more before his face turned serious again, and my mind reeled. I was not sure what I would do to be deemed a villain, but he saw it, somehow. ?You are gonna do tings that no one can believe, and be missed when you travel, far from dis place.?

?I?ve been to Kansas,? I said, thinking maybe the thing was talking about my mother hugging me tightly when I got back from seeing Dodge City with my grandparents.

?No, I am thinkin? it?s gonna be further dan dat.? He nodded, and watched. ?You take your time about findin? love, but when you do, it hit ya in da face like a stone mallet.? He nodded. ?First one, no good.?

?Love?? I laughed. At the ripe old age of eleven, even though I was more mature than most, thanks to my father telling me how silly games and toys were, girls still had cooties, though they were starting to become curiosities. ?What?s she like?? I asked.

?To you, she?s da reason for bein?.? He said with a grin. I thought about that, and my grandparents, how happy they were together.

?So, is she pretty??

He only shrugged his shoulders.

?Come on, Charles! I don?t want to be walking around with someone that?s ugly as homemade sin!? I said with a laugh.

?Boy, you bettah learn, sometimes beauty, I mean real beauty, comes from deep inside the package. De soul, and de heart hold treasures even your Alabama Jim cain?t find.?

?Indiana Jones,? I corrected, and he only shrugged.

?You?ll be surprised when you find her,? He said as he looked away from the crystal and started gathering things from an assortment of what looked like, spice jars.

I watched in curiosity again, though my mind was more on who I would find to be married, and trying not to laugh about it, thinking of me at my age, walking around looking for her. He picked up a grey piece of what I thought was a stick, and other things, seven in fact, and tied them into a piece of dark cloth before sewing it shut with gold thread. After he was finished, he sprinkled some water on it and said words I couldn?t understand, before offering it to me.

?What is this?? I asked as I looked at it in his hands.

?Dis be gris-gris. It will help keep you safe from bad spirits, and you should keep it with you, all de time.? He said solemnly.

I took the small bag and looked it over. There were symbols and marks all over the cloth, and of course it was wet. ?Why would bad spirits be after me??

?Dey are bad,? He said with almost the same tone that Scott?s sister said something ending in ?Duh.?

?Where should I keep it??

He looked around and picked up a piece of leather, and took the bag from me, before fashioning a loop to go around my neck.

?There, now he be watchin? over ya, even while ya sleep.? He nodded.

My fingers fell to the talisman, and I lifted it to look at it, before I looked back at the old black man. I knew that he wanted me safe, but I didn?t know what he wanted me safe from.

?What was this about, that I had to leave an important meeting, Lucas?? He stared straight ahead, driving slower than normal so he could take his time telling me how I am screwing up not only my life, but his as well. I could see the vein in his neck and forehead pounding, but his voice didn?t show that aggravation.

?Scott was talking bad about my friend,? I said as I turned to look out my window and watch the Magnolias we passed by.

?Scott is your friend. His father is an important client.? Of course, I would cost him precious money, if Scott?s father pulled away from Boudreux Worldwide. ?If this fight has strained my friendship with Kevin, I...? He always trailed off before he made his threats. ?Fishburne is waiting.?

Fishburne is the military school that he loved to offer, every time that I did something he didn?t approve of. He would tell my mother, and she would tell him that I was just a growing up boy, and that if he sent me to Virginia, he?d never see me again. She was worried that she wouldn?t see me again, and that was the farthest thing from the truth. I?d seen their fliers, and read over their propaganda with disinterest. Guys a little older than me, shaved heads like they had a lice scare, and uniforms that seemed to be a mix between Military Dress, and Highway Patrol, unless it was a visitation day, and then they had hats that looked like a painted bait pail on their head with an ostrich feather stuck on top, and civil war re-enactment uniforms, almost like Wheat?s Tigers.

?Yeah, I know. I hear that a lot.? I replied, and he finally looked at me, with anger flashing in his eyes.

?It would do you some good, and make you grow the hell up!? He snapped.

?Do me some good, so you didn?t have to miss your damn meetings.? He brought his hand from the wheel like he was going to slap me, and instead picked something that wasn?t there from his pressed slacks.

?Watch your mouth, young man.? He grumbled.

The rest of the ride home was in blissful silence. My mood was sour, his was worse. Both of us having dealt with things that we would have rather left alone. Now that the adrenaline had left, I was hurting all over. I felt cuts on my shoulder blades from the cement, and my face felt like the time I?d been hit with a line drive from a baseball, only about ten times worse.

?What is that hanging around your neck?? He asked as we pulled up into the driveway, leading toward our house.

?A gift.?

?From who??

?A friend.?

?Take it off,? He said as he looked at me again.

?No.?

He reached for my neck and I pushed his hand away, which made him try harder. His long fingers hooked the leather that held it around my neck, and pulled it free so he could look closer at it.

?Cheap crap from the French Quarter,? He snarled as his window went down. ?I told you I don?t want you going down there, it?s not safe.? He pitched the gris-gris into the trash can, and started rolling toward the house again. ?Colonel Friedman is a personal friend of mine, and the Head of Fishburne, Lucas. He said he will make an exception in your case.

I remembered Friedman. He was a grizzled older guy, who made investments with my father?s company, and had teased him about being a draft dodger, to which my father would always reply about how his father had needed him to watch over operations in Canada. He didn?t like when my friends and I were there when he was in town, so usually we were sent to my grandparent?s home, or back to one of theirs, so I wondered how he dealt with boys day in and day out. I watched the gris-gris sail into the metal can, and turned a cold gaze on my father.

?So, you say that every time we talk too.? I pulled the door handle after unlocking the door, and stepped out of the slow moving car with my towel and shoes.

?Lucas James! You get back here!? He yelled as he stopped the car. I reached into the trashcan, where luckily my talisman was laying cleanly on a Hefty bag, and picked it up, to tie it back around my neck while staring at him in defiance. I knew my mother wouldn?t let him send me to that place, and I knew he wouldn?t get out of his precious car into the heat. ?Now!? He yelled again, to which I only lifted my hand in a wave, and turned to stroll away, leaving him to yell at my back, and demand my return.

?Go to hell, Old Man,? I muttered under my breath and made my way for the trail through the brush that lead to our club, and our canoe.

?Get off your ass, and go out there and find him, James!? My mother yelled at him, as he sat down behind his desk and started flipping through the letters brought in by courier.

?Angela, this is my office,? He said as he pulled his reading glasses from his face, ?not a concert hall. Please stop shouting, I am trying to read.? He didn?t care that I was gone, and he was expecting a return call from Fishburne.

?It is getting dark, and there is a storm,? Her voice was quiet, and too calm. ?I want him home, and I?m sure that you are not innocent in his leaving.?

?Look, he is either at the Tyler?s home, or at that rickety little building they call their club,? He closed the folder and at least looked her direction, while managing to look through her and try to decide on what new color to paint the walls of his sanctuary. ?When he gets hungry and scared, he will come home, and then his ass is mine.?

?What are you going to do, ground him again? Take his freedoms from his friends and running with them? You know when he?s grounded, he just gets rest, while holding your temper against you, reading his books, and all...? He cut her off, having reached his limit with his son, and his wife.

?You should know that I?ve already put in a call to Mister Friedman, and he already says that he will make an exception for Lucas. So, instead of my lenient punishments, as you think they are, he is going to Fishburne, to become a man.?

My mother stood in silence, staring at him in disbelief and her cajun blood began to boil. Marie Angela Debois-Boudreux was born in Abbeville, Louisiana to a family of shrimpers, roughnecks, and other fine cajuns. My grandfather had been a Roughneck, lost his right eye to a hot spark, and my grandmother worked for and retired from Steen?s Syrup Mill. I always loved seeing my mother?s side of the family, it was like a trip back in time. People sitting outside of an evening, smoking a pipe, carving wood, boiling mudbugs, and talking so funny, I couldn?t understand half of what they said, until I started spending more time with them.

My father had been in Abbeville during their Daylily Festival, and that?s where he?d seen, and eventually met my mother. She was blinded by charm and his ability to buy her fancy things she wasn?t used to owning, and eventually one of those things was a ring for her left hand.

?Lucas James Boudreux,? She said in a cold, and quiet voice. ?Mah son, isn?t goin? off to some damned far off school to learn how to be a man, just because you aren?t one. You are a piss poor father, and just as bad of a husband...? Her cajun accent flared up when she was angry, and it in turn made my father angry, as he was reminded that his fancy looking wife was taken from a family that lived in a trailer.

?Enough, Angela!? His voice boomed. ?He is impossible, and you know it! He doesn?t do a damn thing I ask of him, he?s defiant, and headstrong, he won?t back down when he should!?

?He is a boy! Eleven year old boys are just that, Lucas, BOYS!? She remembered how her brothers had been at that age, and how my grandfather had pushed them in a direction and let them go. Taught right from wrong, and with only a few brushes with the law, they turned out to be hard working men, supporting families of their own. ?He is on the cusp of being a young man, we don?t want to push him to being a man, resenting us and not seeing him again!?

?Maybe that?s not what you want, Angela.? He walked across the room to where she stood in the door. ?I have work to do,? He put his hands on her shoulders, and gently pushed her back, to close the heavy door, and lock it in her face. She stood there in the loudest silence she?d ever heard. The blood thrumming through her and the beating of her heart was all that was heard in the long, carpeted hallway.

She stared at the grain in the door, as did my father, before his eyes dropped to see the two shadows of her feet beneath the door. ?Walk away, Angela.? He said quietly, his teeth grinding together to the point of breaking, before he jumped as she kicked the door from the other side, and started cursing him in French.