Drake could stand no more of the silent treatment. “Don’t lose hope, Sharlene.” His voice was barely audible. She looked at him—long and hard. The look scorched. However, it wasn’t with the same fire shared while in her bed.
He inched closer.
Sharlene took in his conspicuous movement while noting he sat unprotected in the inclement weather. The misty rain pasted his hair to his scalp. She stared at his profile. It seemed his chin jutted in defiance.
“I’m a Mouton. They
give
hell. They don’t
give
up.”
One minute he attempted to soothe her from a distance. The next, Drake slid right next to her. She searched his face as his eyes trained on the empty spaces over the water. A cunning reach stole her hand from her lap where he cupped it in his.
“You sicced your dogs on me.”
The complaint hit him out of the blue. “Something did happen back there,” he deduced. Drake was wrong if he thought they were on the way to recapturing the camaraderie. Her hand slowly slipped from his grasp as she rebuffed his touch.
“I got a not so subtle suggestion that BayouBabe99er should think real hard before writing another post.”
Drake dried his face with his hand. “You think I ratted you out. Is that it?”
Sharlene pushed the hood back to look him in his eyes. “It’s funny how quickly the vultures dived in.”
“I wouldn’t have made the trip down here if I had a hand in fingering you…” He hadn’t intended the double entendre and quickly corrected. “I mean, your identity.”
His meaning was crystal clear. “This is getting extremely complicated, Drake.” He remained seated when she stood. “It was a fulfilling fling. But I think it’s best for us not to see each other anymore.”
Now, he stood and towered over her. “That’s not going to happen, Sharlene. I work where you live.”
“I mean socially.” Sharlene’s senses swirled at his closeness. Several steps put her at the end of the pier. “Any association we have should be kept on a business level.”
The static crackling in the air was from the push and pull of her catapulting emotions.
“The people need you to be impartial. I realize that’s a hard row to hoe, your being a company man and all. You have a difficult job to do. I don’t want to interfere with that.”
“My job is tricky. But—I’m good at what I do, Sharlene. I admit you’re an integral part of circumstances here. I just don’t see any reason to erase you from my personal life.”
The sight as he rushed to her little corner of the world, as if he couldn’t stand the separation one more second, let fluttering butterflies loose in her stomach.
“I hope you don’t think I condone how things transpired here. I mean, to benefit from someone else’s despair is not my forte.” The deathly quiet played up the sincerity in his voice. He held her at arm’s length while staring right into her eyes for consensus. “Believe me, Sharlene.”
“I do believe you, Drake.” She yawned just as he released a relieved sigh. “I do, however, resent the oil company’s ploy to make nice for appearances’ sake. Just for the cameras.”
Sleep dropped on her like a ton of bricks. It became impossible to keep steady on her feet or keep her eyes open. Full-blown fatigue commandeered her body. His weight caused the planks to creak as he sidled within inches of her. His body heat lulled her to lie against him.
By this time, the drizzle stopped and the sky lightened.
Guiding her back to the bench, he crooned, “It’s okay to nap, Sharlene.” Drake snuggled her under his arm. “I’ll wake you when Moot gets in.” She read the hopeful expression on his face that she would comply with his wishes, tempting him to put in, “He’s a Mouton, right?”
She conveniently forgot about the pledge enacted to spare their feelings from hurt. Sharlene curled her legs while fitting her shoulder under Drake’s arm. A staggering breath was her defenses lowering. The thrill of her warm, pliant body nestled into his renewed his hope. She could shove all she wanted. But no way would he let her shove away their burgeoning relationship. Drake gladly welcomed the entanglement, for it held long-lasting promises.
Streaks of cottony strands highlighted the grayish-blue sky over the village. The sun peeped out, transforming the atmosphere, giving all those who still lingered high hopes for the outcome. Drake’s chin brushed his chest periodically. Refusing to succumb to exhaustion, he kept a diligent lookout for her sake. Sharlene’s head rested comfortably on his lap. She slept on even as a firm hand shook his shoulder.
His head jerked up, and he worked the kinks out of his neck. He turned and looked directly at Clyde, whose expression was hard to read. Drake laid a protective hand on Sharlene’s shoulder, hoping to get the lowdown before she awakened. He gave Clyde the quiet signal.
Clyde squatted at Drake’s ear. “They spotted the Babe.” Drake’s neck craned to get a glimpse of Clyde’s features as he spoke because those words could have meant anything. “She cripple, but bobbin’.”
Something just wasn’t right with the information Clyde shared. “What’s the problem?”
“No sign’a Moot. Sea too rough to get close.”
Drake took in the view before him where the weather remained dark and gloomy over the horizon. “So the trawler’s just drifting?”
“Got a grapple hook on ’er,” he answered. “Can’t raise him on the radio, neither.” Clyde hesitated. “They headed back, boy.”
Drake’s hand tightened. His eyes closed in disappointment. How could he soften the blow he wondered. Her world was about to fall apart.
“They ’bout four hours out.”
Sharlene shifted. He knew it was hard to get the blood flowing in her limbs, for she’d been on one side for so long. Drake removed the slicker trapping her from freely moving. Her look was soft, sleepy looking. Nonetheless, her wide, dry eyes hinted she suspected everything when she dared to search his and Clyde’s faces.
“You heard?” Drake asked. A nod of her head was his answer. “I’m so sorry, Sharlene.”
“Go away, Drake.” A note of finality rang in her voice.
“Sharlene?”
Her expression vacillated between anger and sorrow. “Uncle Moot wouldn’t’ve been out there trying to squeeze a dime from a nickel if you and your cronies hadn’t screwed things up down here.”
“You’re upset.”
“No, I’m pissed!” She switched her emotions off, tuning him out. “Can we take the airboat and meet them, Mr. Clyde?”
“Look at that sky.” He pointed to the metal gray clouds that blended with the dark waters. “Not on the open water, Sha.”
“Then is there someone I can hire to get me out there? I need to get out there,” she repeated.
“Sharlene—”
She cut him off. “Are you still here?”
“Sha, all reliable vessels are already in the hunt.” He patted her shoulder. “We wait.”
That seemed to seal it for Sharlene, who moseyed up the hill en route to the store. Drake watched her dragging steps carry her away from him. All he could do was follow behind and monitor her progress. Her appearance caused a hush to come over the small gathering huddled on the sidewalk. He prepared to brave her wrath with one more plea when a nattily dressed man broke from the group.
“Ms. Mouton?”
Sharlene paused and turned at the calling of her name. “I’m Gary Maine. May I have a few minutes of your time?”
“I have no comment regarding my uncle.” She started to push on.
“I’m not a reporter, Ms. Mouton,” he explained. “I’m an attorney.”
Drake and everyone within earshot listened.
“Mr. Maine, your timing is atrocious. Please. Leave me alone.”
Drake was about to intervene when the lawyer clarified his motives.
“Ms. Mouton, I want to offer you a position with my New Orleans firm.”
That stopped Sharlene dead in her tracks. She looked confused. “You came all the way down here to offer me a…a job?” Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t have any legal training, Mr. Maine. I don’t see how my presence would benefit your firm.”
“You have exactly what we need, Ms. Mouton, a background in finance. We need a consultant.”
“How do you know my qualifications?” she interrogated.
“I have clients from this area since the spill. Some spoke highly of your knowledge in helping them weed through their contracts before they came to me.” His bushy silver brows slanted when his brown face frowned. “In addition, I saw your interview from last night that made mention of your blog.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t say a thing about any blog,” she contested.
“No, you didn’t,” he concurred. “The reporter did in his subsequent piece with the oil company’s spokesperson.”
“Mr. Maine, I know I should be all over this opportunity because so many are in need of work and here you are…laying a prize at my feet.” She hesitated. “I can’t ask you to hold the position until my family situation is at least updated, if not resolved.”
“But I can,” a voice in the background spoke out.
Sharlene whipped to face Drake. “Butt out of my business.”
Drake noticed everyone was looking at them as they sparred.
“Who are you?” the lawyer asked.
“A friend,” he said.
At the same time, she snapped, “Nobody!”
“Hmmm. I see.” He extracted a business card from his holder. “We’re in urgent need of your expertise. For that reason, I’ll give you a week to respond with your answer.”
Accepting the card, Sharlene glanced at it. “Thank you, Mr. Maine. You’ll be hearing from me.”
Drake watched the exchange as the attorney advanced on his black, foreign-made sedan.
“Remember. One week from today.”
Watching him drive off, she surmised anything could happen in a week.
“Are you going to take it?”
She turned a peeved expression on Drake. “I’d be a fool not to.”
“I’ve got a feeling the Moutons don’t raise
no
fools,” he corroborated. Sharlene left him standing in the street as the crowd thinned out. He muttered out of her hearing range as he followed her into the store. “Now we may have a conflict of interest, Skeeter.”
A sullen Sharlene went sat in a corner with her chin perched on her hands when he entered the store. It saddened him to know she was all alone in her misery. That was why he chanced another go at bridging the chasm between them. He sought Clyde out and now bore down on her with two cups of coffee.
One cup hit the table under her nose, bringing her eyes up to his. A huge teardrop hung on her lower lid before spilling over. The sight mesmerized him as he watched it slide halfway down her cheek, cling there for all of a second, and plop right into the cup. That did it. The sight of her tears twisted his insides. Drake stalked away and out the front door, with a brand new purpose.
The rumbling sound vibrated the wooden dock behind the store. A tri-horn blasted the quiet and brought Clyde out on the run. He admired the cut of the sleek white racer with the bold red stripes. Clyde hustled his arthritic body back inside with a yell.
“Sha, come see!”
Drake, who’d changed into casual wear, jumped to the dock just as Sharlene came rushing outside. She faltered, he supposed, at what met her eyes. But she acknowledged him with a slow, sad smile. The act caused his heart to go
ca-boom
.
“Let’s go.”
He ushered her up the walkway by the hand and onto the deck, making introductions as they took the center aisle to the cockpit. His companion merely smiled and nodded as he brought the throttle down to reverse. Drake helped Sharlene into her life vest as the boat eased away.
Clyde saluted their departure.
Soon they cruised the open water, their bodies rocking to the motion as they cut through the waves. Drake positioned himself at Sharlene’s back. His hands held the rail on either side of her body as a deterrent to her tumbling from the jerky gyration. A fine spray misted them as they sailed along.
The constant swaying bumped Sharlene and Drake’s bodies together continuously. Passionate thoughts stayed at bay because of the serious nature of the expedition. They sped into the gray day
on a mission of mercy. Drake did what he did for Sharlene, because he suspected it would do her good to escort her uncle’s pride and joy back to port. For him? Well, he drew satisfaction knowing he provided her that small bit of relief.
“There they are!” Sharlene exclaimed.
Drake saw the faint black spots dotting the surface of the water, way in the distance. He also felt the sporadic tremors she attempted to hide. The tight grip she had on the iron rail was another giveaway. “Relax, Sharlene. We have quite a while to go.”
Sharlene looked at him over her shoulder. “Thank you so much, Drake. I can’t explain it…I mean…”
“You’re welcome.” He kissed the side of her face exposed to him, continuing in a somber voice. “I think I understand.”
They rode in silence as the boat bounced and bumped over the choppy water. The minutes ticked down to seconds with the flotilla enlarging in size. The BayouBabe lurched along, pulled by a tow. Trawlers flanked her on all sides.