Secrets on the Bayou - S. Heald (best book clubs TXT) 📗

The stench of the room filled my nostrils like the lingering fog of a wet back ally on blues night. The room was dark and quiet with just a shiver of light coming from underneath the bedroom door. Ugh, how do I wake up in these situations? I seem to be attracted to trouble like rats are attracted to old cheese. Not that I’m comparing myself to a rat, I consider myself much better looking that a rat. The night before was a blur in my head as I sat up on the bed realizing I had dead weight lying on my arm. Looking at the empty beer bottles on the floor and covering the nightstand and dresser, I grabbed my cell phone and shinned the light down onto a young girls face. She was around twenty with long blond hair and streaked mascara smeared down her face. The multi colored glitter on her face gave off a shimmering reflection of lost innocence as I very carefully removed my arm from under her resting head. It sometimes saddened me to see girls like her who were so beautiful turn into prostitutes and strippers, but hey it’s how the world turns right?

I looked around on the floor for my jeans and my lacy bra that somehow had made its way off of me sometime the night before during strip poker. The pounding in my head was a sign that I had enjoyed myself the night before as I got dressed in the dark as quietly as possible. Grabbing my keys off of the nightstand, I bolted for the door. This wasn’t the first time I had left someone laying in bed while I took the walk of shame. The house was empty by what I could tell as I made my way to the front door. I moved as fast as I possibly could with a hangover that was bleeding onto my brain as I walked and then climbed into my car. The leather seats of my black Camaro were hot enough to fry an egg on but I didn’t let it phase me as I pulled away from the curb to head to my house.

It tends to get pretty hot in Louisiana during the summer months. I guess once you’re raised around here you just learn to deal with the heat along with the swamps and dirty lifestyle. I live about twenty minutes from New Orleans in a small town that caters to the local fisherman and hunters. It’s not so bad if you were raised in this type of atmosphere, but to be honest, it isn’t for everyone. The mosquitoes are the size of cars, the alligators will come up in your back yard, no matter where you go you can more than likely see some water or sign to it, and every restaurant here serves seafood. I like it though because I can hide what I am and where I have been without people questioning me. What I am. Yea, Ellie Marie Frickey, that’s a subject that Einstein couldn’t even come to terms with.

When I was just a little girl I started training in martial arts and in sharp shooting. By the time that I was thirteen I could have been a skilled hit man and lethal weapon. But my parents continued to keep my normal girl persona. When I turned sixteen I came home to find both of my parents murdered and my existence fell apart. I then moved from one side of the Louisiana swamps to the other to move in with my crazy Aunt Betty who practices magic on a day to day basis. She brainwashed my head with promises of fairies and love spells until she had taken most of the pain of losing my parents away. We would drink vodka by the bottle and sit on the front porch at night and listen to the crickets sing and the frogs chirping talking about all the spells she knew and stories of when she had used them. Those were the good old days.

Lately I hadn’t had much time to spend with Aunt Betty since I had started working in New Orleans as a bouncer for a local escort service. I also take an occasional contract to off some crack head or dirty business man. Some people wouldn’t think what I do is an appropriate lifestyle choice for a young lady, but those people don’t know me and sure don’t know what I need. Yep I had to admit that I was one hell of conversation piece to the locals, but they didn’t know the truth. They all thought I was some kind of outcast with a pretty face who had emotional problems and that pushed men away. If only they knew that I could kill a man in three seconds with my hands, point blank with the draw of any gun, and knew enough spells to make man or woman melt in my hands emotionally, or physically. Yea I wouldn’t fit in with the rest of the town if they knew the truth, that’s for sure. But they didn’t know so I was good for another day.

Pulling down our long driveway paved with gravel pieces and lined with oak trees, I noticed that there were dark clouds starting to roll in. Looked like there was bad storm coming in and it was going to be here pretty quick. I pulled in my parking spot and made a straight line in the house and to my room to shower. The weather in this part of the United States was unpredictable and would strike at anytime. Being that we lived so far out in the boonies that there were hardly any road signs, we were always the last to get power turned back on once a bad storm came through, hence me hurrying to get a shower. Stepping into the warm shower I let the water caress my chest and shoulders as I watched the tainted water roll off of my body and swirl down the drain. The dirt and scandal of the night before was flowing down my leg and into the sewer where it belonged. I didn’t usually hook up with the girls that I worked with but occasionally it was nice to step out of the ordinary and let a different side of your soul dominate your norm. And I will be the first to admit that there is just something you get from a woman that you can’t get from a man, and vice versa. I heard a crackle of thunder in the distance as I washed the rest of my shampoo out of my long brown hair and shut the water off. I could hear Aunt Betty outside the bathroom door yelling, “Best get out of that shower young’un, don’t you know you gona push that luck one day and I’m gona have to come up with some spell to bring your burnt, lightning struck tushie back to life!” I couldn’t help but smile as I dried off and put some clothes on.

Aunt Betty was in the living room closing up the windows when I walked in. The curtains were all dancing around the windows as the wind picked up outside. I helped her close the rest of the windows and then Aunt Betty skipped to the kitchen to fix us a Bloody Mary. If there is one thing that will make the storm pass by a little quicker it’s having two witches talking over a stiff drink at one o’clock in the afternoon. The rain started to come down like cats and dogs hitting the top of a tin roof. The house we lived in was an older Cabin with a new tin roof that was funded by a contract I took on a man who was beating his wife and selling her out on the streets like a free for all. I hate when people think they own someone just because they are married to them. Aunt Betty had been widowed for some time now since her fourth husband had a strange boating accident. You would think the locals would find it odd that all four of Aunt B’s husbands had died all mysterious deaths, but not one time had the police tried to bother her with suspicious questions. I’m pretty sure that Aunt B took care of that in her own way, although it wasn’t very odd for people to just vanish or die mysteriously on the swamps.

When I first moved in with Aunt B I couldn’t believe the woman had been married four times. I mean that was just crazy, and so one day I asked her why. “It’s better to marry than to burn child, don’t you know nuthin? Besides they are bound to die on ya eventually, that is if you do ya job right,” was her response. I didn’t ask many questions after that about Aunt B’s husbands and how they died; besides she ended up telling me about each of them over the past few years while drinking Bloody Marys. Yeah, Aunt B and I defiantly had some stories to tell between the two of us. She always enjoyed hearing about the city life and the contracts I occasionally took. Peaking over at Aunt B I noticed she had already downed half of her drink while I was still sipping on mine. “That thing aint gona drink itself,” Aunt B managed to say between gulps. “Yeah, I know it; I’m still recuperating from last night. Things got a little crazy in the city last night. I had to beat up some ruff neck for messing with one of the girls at a private party and then we ended up making a party of our own,” I said with a smile on my face. The memories of the night before were starting to come back more clearly now as I was mixing alcohol to my hangover.

The escort service I work for, as a bouncer, hired a couple girls out for a bachelor party in town at a low end blues club in the gutter of New Orleans. The party went like all the parties usually do, drunken men, loud music, women dancing just trying to pay their light bill, and then one of the wasted men pushing one of the girls to far. That’s when I come in, I politely asked for the man to keep his hands to himself and like always they never listen. They just add another shot of liquor and start grabbing. So I broke some guys’ nose and then got the money and got the girls out. Mission accomplished. I don’t always party with the girls after their sessions but last night I decided to break free and let my hair down, hence me waking up with no bra on and a bad hangover this morning, typical Friday night in my life for the most part.

I caught Aunt B up on the previous night and how it all went down and then proceeded to tell her about a big job I had coming up. “Yeah some dealer in the city has been selling laced drugs to the girls on the streets, and whatever it