Chapter 9: Kitty Arceneaux, 33, Sausalito Mother...

The answer to Kate’s wish for a Sausalito mother who would fuck her own son came unexpectedly and — this was a surprise — voluntarily.

Kitty Arceneaux was a 33-year-old mother. Solid, middle-class upbringing and marriage. Her husband, Arnold, was comparatively wealthy — he had inherited two McDonald’s franchises up in Jackson.

A comfortable life. The only family drama came from her son — a 15-year-old boy named Jared who had a bit of a wild-child in him. He’d been busted twice for selling joints at John Lee Hooker Middle School.

Rémy Thibodeaux, the chief of police, generally looked the other way on minor stuff like that. He discouraged the sale of dope, but didn’t punish the kids for possession of less than an ounce.

Both times he took Jared to his parents and explained the facts of life. “I don’t care, me, if the kids smoke or vape a little. But I won’t have them peddling dope.”

Kitty and Arnold appreciated the leniency and extracted a solemn promise from Jared. Kitty put her hands on the boys shoulders, looked up into his eyes and spoke plainly, “Next time is jail time.”

“I know, Mama, I know.”

Kitty was a petite Cajun woman, and had been surprised that Jared was now taller than she was. And Arnold was no giant himself — just average in height.

Like most practical Cajun women in town, Kitty wasn’t particularly religious — Christmas and Easter were enough church attendance as far as she was concerned.

And she certainly had never been one of those Miss-Kitty protestors. In fact, she and her girlfriends had attended a couple of late-night Friday shows. When the girls got fully naked and down and dirty with each other.

Kitty had been flattered when Kate tried to talk her into dancing on Saturday mornings. She was a little tempted, and if she’d really needed the money, she might well have done it.

Even though the usual stipulation would have applied — Jared would be in the audience. The idea didn’t thrill her, but it wouldn’t have been a deal-breaker either. He was a pretty good boy, and they had a pretty good, joshing relationship. When he wasn’t getting busted.

In fact, when Jared turned 14, she cheerfully handed him a ten-dollar bill. Neither she nor or son bothered to discuss it. He would be joining the other naked boys in masturbating to the sexy ladies on stage.

These days, the lewd performances weren’t even talked about much — Saturday morning was woven into the fabric of the town.

But today. It was a Monday from hell — a day Kitty Arceneaux would never forget. Her husband was up in Jackson, tending to his two burger outlets. Jared was at school. Supposedly.

It was around 10, and she was taking a break from laundry chores, sipping chicory at her kitchen table. She answered the knock, and her heart sunk.

Rémy was there with Jared. The boy looked miserable, couldn’t meet her eyes. She sighed, “Come in.”

The Chief went right to it, “He was caught at John Lee Hooker.”

“Oh, no. Was he selling?” Then she saw the embarrassed expression her son’s face and sighed again, “Go to your room. Now.”

“Yes ma’am.” So quiet she could barely hear him.

Kitty led Rémy into the kitchen, poured him a cup, “Okay, tell me — how bad is it?”

“Third offense. Hinds County Juvenile Detention Center. Probably get 18 months.”

Tears welled in her eyes, “I can’t believe he went back on his word.” She shook her head, “And at John Lee too.”

“Kitty, it was a little different this time. It was gummy bears instead of joints. And he wasn’t technically selling them — he was trading them for blowjobs.”