Chapter 10: Somewhere Over the Rainbow...

During what she now thought of as her awakening years, Lacy Danube spent hours and hours in front of the full-length mirror in her mother’s shabby little house.

She was five, six, seven, eight, when she began practicing to become someone else. Someone who didn’t live in a seedy Lexington, Kentucky neighborhood. Who didn’t have a mother who was often on the nod. In fact, Lacy was training herself to become a person who wouldn’t even know someone like Consuela Martinez.

This was years before Chase Windsor had spotted her walking home from school one rainy Monday afternoon. Years before he insinuated himself into Consuela’s life. And before he claimed the prize — paying Consuela a still-unknown amount of money for her daughter.

Back then, Lacy would gaze at the little girl in the mirror and transform herself into someone happy, someone who had a good life. As she grew older she studied the women on TV, models in magazines, the UK college girls she passed on the street. And she emulated them, experimented with different facial expressions.

She was pretty, very pretty; she just didn’t yet comprehend what a knockout she really was.

In the mirror, she did like her haughty, slightly disapproving look. A look she imagined would make people, particularly men, anxious to please her. And, she worked on an expression that bestowed gratitude — opening her eyes and mouth wide in approval of some imagined feat — no uncertainty, no darkness, no fear.

She also practiced letting a laugh escape — her eyes would glisten in delight, her perfect white teeth gleaming in contrast to the red lip gloss that she had borrowed from her mother’s purse.

Raymond Fontenot, Nikon in hand, showed up half an hour early for his first-ever photography assignment.

Kate Broussard introduced him to Darlene Foster and said, “Your first portrait. Then Darlene will bring in my other girls, one by one. Take your time, don’t be nervous. And remember, you have several days of shooting ahead of you.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Darlene smiled, “You know my son, honey? Tee-Bob, he’s over by John Lee Hooker.”

Raymond’s heart was thumping, “Uh, no ma’am, I don’t think so.” He felt he’d already missed the first question on an important exam.

Kate waved goodbye and went back to her office, a small smile on her face. Darlene climbed the three steps to the stage. She shielded her eyes and said, “How’s the lighting?”

“A little bright?”

She pointed off to the side, “There’s the rheostat, or thermostat, or whatever you call the light thingy. Go adjust it, honey, and let’s get going.” She grinned, “There’s no business like show business.”

Raymond played with the lights, looking through his optical viewfinder, and nodded to himself.

“Ready?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Darlene shrugged out of her robe — she was a brassy redhead this month. She had just turned 35 and was large. Plump. Fat boobs, not much of a waist, big hips, and thick thighs. The bright yellow bikini barely contained Darlene’s breasts and the bottom piece looked minuscule.

Raymond thought she was a goddess. He took a deep breath and shot three quick snaps. His hands were steady enough.

Darlene walked over to the edge of the stage, “Let me see, honey.”

She was already shaking her head, “What the fuck was I thinking? No, no, no.”

She reached behind her and undid the top and tossed it casually away Raymond stared, trying to look cool. The high school junior had watched about a million hours of porn, but this was bare boobs on an actual woman.

Darlene climbed down the steps and said, “I need a different top. What about green?”

Raymond nodded dumbly.

Darlene strolled back to the dressing room and filled a small cup from the water cooler. Kate walked by, “How’s the kid doing?”

“Okay, I think. You care if he cums in his pants?”

Kate snorted, “Why would I?

Darlene wandered back to the stage, two tops in her hands, “I can’t decide, honey, you pick.”

Raymond pointed at the red one, then changed his mind, “Green, definitely green. Ma’am.”

Darlene took her time, listened to the labored breathing.

The rest of the morning was a blur. Darlene brought out girl after girl. Some were polite, some were bored, some were amused. A few flirted. But each one cooperated; word was out that this was Eulalie Guidry’s project.

The last girl of the morning was Miss Hebert, Harriet Hebert, a teacher at John Lee Hooker. Raymond had had her in ninth grade. Unlike the others, she wore a one-piece bathing suit, white. At 27, she was tall and slender and confident, “Call me Harry.” Grin as she patted her pubic area, “Even though I’m not.”

Harry grinned at Raymond and slid her fingers under the fabric just where her thighs joined. As she tugged the suit up, she whispered, “Let me know if I show any pussy, honey.”

Raymond thought she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

She frowned as if something had just occurred to her, “Hey, I wonder if Eulalie will let me do a pussy wedge?”

The boy gasped, “Uh, I don’t know, ma’am.”

She winked at him and worked the fabric in. “Shoot a couple like this and go ask her before you print them out.”

Raymond stared and stared.

Quintin Apache adjusted his strategy. Turned his focus from Ethan Dalton to a woman who could disappear people for a price. He discounted the name, Hortense. Obviously a fake.

He thought about the rumored location and told his three tracers, “Start in California.”

Three trackers, each with 50 or 60 sets of eyes and ears out there. Probably close to 200 watchers around the country would be searching for a hint, a whisper of the mystery woman.

Rémy picked Marie up at her office and they collected Logan at the Cajun Arms. As they drove down to the City Docks, Marie turned to look at Logan, “Eulalie is with Ethan, getting stuff ready for dinner. But Rémy will do the actual cooking.”

Marie guided the Jon boat every bit as nonchalantly as her sister did. They tied off and went upstairs where Eulalie was sitting on the arm of Ethan’s chair, feeding him grapes and bites of watermelon.

She winked at Marie, “You said to take good care of Mr. Smith.”

Marie nodded, “Yep.”

Logan looked at his client, his friend, “Bored?”

“No, not at all. It’s a good respite. Soothing. Calming.”

Rémy looked from Marie to Eulalie. They both wore pink tees, but he knew it was just a coincidence. Almost certainly. He could see a flash of Eulalie’s white thong. And wondered what Marie was wearing.

Eulalie detoured on her way to school and went downtown to stop by Miss Kitty’s.

Kate beamed, “Those picture postcards are genius. Most of the girls are really excited.”

“One more day of shooting?”

“One more day.”

The teenager nodded. Good, right on schedule.

“Eulalie, are you going to allow Harry’s shot? You know the pussy wedge?”

“I thought I’d have Ray-Ray limit the distribution. You know, get the kids talking, drive up demand.”

“Good thinking.”

“Want another idea?”

Kate laughed, “Oh, God.”

“Moms Gone Wild.”

“I love it! Friday night, only moms on the pole.”

“Then Teachers Gone Wild.”

Kate shook her head in admiration.

Ethan looked at Rémy, “I was surprised how good the cell phone reception is down here. Three bars.”

Eulalie answered, “Oh, that’s on Marie, Mr. Smith. She had some private ... conversations ... with the Verizon guy. And he ended up putting a cell tower on top of the Bayou Bar and Bank.”

Rémy grinned, “It’s got to be the smallest customer base in the country. Most folks down here don’t even own a phone.”

As Rémy started a crawfish boil out on the back deck of the safe-house, Ethan and Logan watched with interest. He casually tossed in Zatarain’s spices, potatoes, celery, sausage, additional seasonings, onion, corn on the cob, and a variety of other vegetables in a seemingly random order.

Eulalie brought out three beers for the men. Ethan thanked her and she grinned, “Marie told me to give Mr. Smith whatever he wants.” She winked, “Whatever.”

Marie came out and said, “Eulalie, what are you doing at Miss Kitty’s? Besides that photography project?” She didn’t seem upset, just curious.

“I told Kate to have a Moms Gone Wild night.”

Marie laughed, “I like it. So you have to be a mom to dance that night?”

“Yep, she’s doing it this Friday.”

“Maybe I’ll check it out.” She turned to Logan, “Interested in seeing some young mothers work the pole?”

Logan shrugged, “Sure.”

“It’s a date, I’ll pick you up around nine.”

Logan thought: Madison.

Ethan smiled at Marie, “I like it down here.”

“Down here? The South? Mississippi? Sausalito? The Cajun Bayous?”

“The bayous. Tell me about life on the water.”

Marie thought about her answer for several moments. “A few people in town think of “Deliverance”. You know, incest, inbreeding.”

“And?”

“There is some truth to that. A small population, Everyone knows everyone else. So, sometimes, cousins...” She shrugged.

“But that’s just one part of life down here?”

“A small part. There are several hundred families down here. Fourteen, sixteen hundred people. No one knows exactly how many.” She grinned, “The census workers barely make it to Sausalito, let alone into the bayous.”

Ethan thought: I bet Marie knows exactly how many people live down here, but he said, simply, “Isolated.”

“To outsiders, yeah. To the Cajuns, it’s just the way life is. Always has been, always will be.”

Eulalie said, “Amen.”

Marie laughed, “That did sound a little preachy.”

Ethan said, “The Cajuns.”

“Fiercely proud. Hard workers, living off the bounty of the bayous. Protective of each other, insular, suspicious of outsiders.” She grinned, “A perfect setup for our hospitality program.”

“And one I appreciate. But what is their day-to-day life like?”

“You have to understand the family structure, Ethan. It’s ... matriarchal ... no, more than that, it’s openly so. The wife, or girlfriend, simply runs things. Women are the real power down here.”

“And the men?”

“Necessary, of course. And a lot of them are decent providers even if they don’t earn much money. Some of them are pretty good husbands. And many of them are adequate fathers. When they’re not openly ogling their daughters.”

“Is that a frequent thing?”

“Eyeballing, yeah. But acting on it, no. Most mothers wouldn’t be afraid to use a knife, late at night.” She winked at Ethan.

Logan crossed his legs.

Ethan, “So the women run the show. Interesting.”

“You see what the weather is like — hot and muggy so much of the year. The youngest kids run around naked. As they get older, their mothers are lucky to keep them in underwear.”

“So, a steamy atmosphere, and not just the weather.”

“That’s right. And most women have a man to help, a man to love. Even though they rarely go through an official wedding ceremony.”

Ethan nodded.

“So, they’re having babies, raising children, making sure there’s food on the table. The moms and their kids hunt and fish and trap to provide food and to earn extra money. Raise chickens and gather eggs. The last thing they want is some well-meaning man poking around, telling them how to run things.”

Ethan smiled, “That’s true, or should be, for most of America. Maybe the world.”

“Yeah, but down here it’s ... just out in the open. Most men learn to do as they’re told. Or get out of the way. Oh, there’s another distinction — there’s almost no stigma to being gay.”

“Really? In the deep South?”

Marie grinned, “This isn’t the South, Ethan, it’s the Cajun Bayous. An entirely separate world. There are ... let’s see, three male couples living together. And also a lesbian ... no, two lesbian couples. People just accept it. That’s how they were born, that’s how they live.”

“Remarkable.”

Marie winked, “And at home, a lot of moms don’t exactly encourage their sons to mess around with each other, but they’ll give them plenty of privacy.”

“To keep them away from their sisters.”

“And their mothers. A female is a female is a female.”

“Yet it’s still mostly a standard family structure — parents, children, grandchildren.”

Marie tilted her head, gazing at the senator, thinking about how to explain a way of life that she had simply grown up in. And one that would seem so alien to an outsider.

“Most of the people down here couldn’t tell you who the President of the United States is. Not if you offered them a hundred dollars. But ask them the best place to net catfish. Or their secret recipe for turtle picante ... well, they’ll share that with everyone they trust.”

“Hmm.”

“Let me give you an example of bayou motherhood, the down home version of it, anyway. The mothers don’t try to wean their babies; they let ‘em nurse as long as they want.”

“To what ... four or five?”

“Double that. Triple it in some cases, particularly at bedtime when someone is having trouble getting to sleep. Or is feeling ill, maybe has a fever.”

“They can generate milk that long?”

Marie shrugged, “Some of them, maybe. But by the time the kids are teenagers, it’s more ... instinct, habit. Nurturing, but not necessarily feeding them.”

“Boys and girls?”

“Yeah, although the girls tend to grow out of it faster than their brothers.” Another shrug, “Ethan, I don’t know what late-nursing means; I guess you’d need a psychologist or a sociologist to explain that.” Big grin, “And neither of those species have ever been sighted in the Cajun Bayous.”

“Fascinating.”

“They — the wives and girlfriends are mother-centric. But they’re also realistic. Pragmatic. They know that men stray, and they understand it’s usually better just to look the other way. Because staying afloat, raising kids, is more important than a traditional picket-fence life.” She grinned again, “Not that we have picket fences down here.”

“So, a no-nonsense outlook on life.”

“And hard work, constant hard work. Hunting and gathering, repairing, mending.” Shrug, “Fucking. And drinking — more than half the homes have a still of one kind or another.” She thought for a while, “Back to sex. Down here, family interaction isn’t encouraged, but certain types of activities don’t generate the negative reaction that they would most places.”

“Really?”

“The most common is big brother / little sister. The mothers try to watch out for their girls, especially at night, but...”

“They can’t keep ‘em apart 24/7.”

“That’s right.” Marie considered her words carefully, “There is also some mother / son ... some incidents.”