Justice
“Just put a shirt on for fuck’s sake,” Loic begged Lazare while trying to get as many Abitas and Budweisers into the ice as possible. Lazare wasn’t having it. To protest Loic’s new “no shirt, no shoes, no beer” policy, he began to molest the nearest lawn chair with some moves that would make a stripper blush.
“Oh, see that? You’re telling me that won’t buy me a beer? Come on, baby. Slip a twenty into my pants.”
From the look on Loic’s face, he was more likely to slip a foot into Lazare’s ass and not gently.
“Put a shirt on, or I’m going to tell everyone about the incident in the woods.”
Lazare stopped dead in his tracks but then carried on grinding. “Please. Everyone shits in the woods. We are animals. It’s what we do.”
Loic shut the lid on the ice chest. “Bullshit. You were human the time I’m talking about. Still have the scar, don’t you?”
“I do not, and you said you wouldn’t say anything about it. Asshole.”
“Keep on dancing, and I’ll tell them all about the itching and pain and where you asked me to put cream.”
Callum gagged, and Etienne covered Tansy’s ears like she was a child too young to hear such foulness.
“He asked me, too. Wanted to me to rub some kind of pink shit all over it,” I said, constantly stirring the roux for the etouffee. The boys had haggled and traded for a couple of bags of shrimp with a local man. I didn’t ask what they traded for them. Better if we all didn’t know.
“I did not, Justice. I wouldn’t let you touch my dick with a ten-foot pole. Now you’re just making shit up.”
I yelled, “Someone find me an eleven-foot pole so I can rub pink shit all over Lazare’s dick. He just said it was okay.”
When Callum stopped gagging, he finally said, “That explains why your hand is always juggling the pendulum and balls in your pocket. Must be scratching. Poison ivy is no joke.”
Redness blazed in Lazare’s cheeks, and his hands fisted and opened by his sides. “It wasn’t poison ivy. A fucking wasp stung me while I was taking a dump in the woods. Right in the nutsack. For a week, it was like walking around with beach balls in my pants. Stayed coyote as much as I could, but he wasn’t pleased about the bowling-ball-sized things, either. And, as for you”— he pointed at Callum—“I jingle the change in my pocket. It’s a habit. I’m not playing with my soldier.”
Tansy started giggling. “Did you just call it a soldier? Like he salutes and comes to attention.”
Etienne’s hands went from her ears to her mouth. “Too much time in Shotgun Row. She hasn’t even had a drink, and her mouth is dirtier than all us put together.”
I added the tomatoes and the seasoning and waited for just the right moment to add the shrimp. I hated rubbery shrimp, which was why Loic wasn’t allowed anywhere near the pot.
Milla arrived a few minutes later. We played the game. I watched as she got out of her car. Her jeans stuck to her full hips like a second skin, and now that I knew what it was like to be between those thighs of her, I just wanted to throw her over my shoulder and forget all about the fucking food—or the fucking people—or the fucking world. She made no eye contact. My girl played the game well, and she knew I loved it when she did.
I stirred and pretended to be enthralled with the etouffee while she giggled at something Loic said, and while she let Lazare get her an Andygator in a bottle. I listened to her sweet hot mouth release the bottle’s rim with a soft pop, wishing like fuck it was around my Andygator instead of the cold one in her hand.
I heard every word she said, letting her voice rev me up and rock me into a trance at the same time.
I’d learned so much about the girl turned woman who’d woken up in my arms almost every morning since we’d given in to the mating call. She made breakfast for me, and when she didn’t wake up first, I made it for her. She wasn’t one of those girls who lay in bed expecting to be waited on hand and foot.
She wasn’t consistent in anything. Her bed was made first thing in the morning, even if three days’ worth of dishes were sitting unwashed in the sink.
She put on perfume even when she wore her pajama pants to work.
She flipped off the computer screen, but then would lean into it sometimes like it spoke a language known only to her.
She kept me fucking guessing.
“I don’t like this game,” she said, whispering in my ear.
“Me, either. Hand me the shrimp.”
My mate pulled out a pocket knife and slit them open then handed them to me.
“Nice knife.”
“The etouffee smells good.”
Her words sounded shallow. For some reason, she was making small talk.
“You spent the night at home last night,” I remarked, giving zero fucks how desperate the words sounded.
“I missed you. Does that make it better?” Her hand feathered a touch up my back while her hip pressed against mine.
“You’re making it a little worse right now. Keep it up, and you won’t be able to finish that beer.”
The others told stories while I finished up the etouffee with Milla by my side. Her smell was off, the apples and cinnamon covered by something unrecognizable.
“Been working hard?” I asked, putting the lid on the cast-iron pot and grabbing myself a beer. She sat next to me on a log bench.
“I love the house. It looks great. That doesn’t have anything to do with me, does it?”
Over my shoulder, the house did look good. And fuck yes, it was for her. “Maybe.”
“Lies,” she mumbled before taking another gulp.
A few minutes later, the now-familiar sound of an old car rolled up the road. Leon got out looking like a sweater on a sunny day.
“I brought beer. Not that pussy Abita shit, either.”
“Good. We need more non-pussy beer. I have plenty since Tansy isn’t drinking.”
“Pink looks good on you,” he remarked to my mate, nodding in my direction.
My gator growled inside me and demanded to take down the male, drag him into the fucking river and let him rot until well seasoned.
“He can see mated pairs. It’s his gift. Don’t go losing your shit, Justice.” Tansy tapped me on the shoulder. Etienne took her finger in his hands, his gator not appreciating the touching.
“He’s okay. I can see it,” Milla said, chucking her bottle into the fire.
“Need another one?” I asked seeing that Loic was making the move. There were too many fucking males around this place, and Milla didn’t have a mark.