We made it to a turnout along our route. We all became quiet as we took in the house that rose up from the ground. It was as grand as the oaks that surrounded it, but all brick, with exploding gardens that came to life in this season.
The party had begun without us; the smell of delicious foods swirled in the air, a welcome to all of the guests, and floating music joined in the greeting.
Brando didn’t light up for much, but as we walked hand in hand around the side of the house, his eyes brightened, and a smile came to his face.
Gabriel and Eva’s house overlooked the Teche, as some people called it, and lined up along her banks had to be at least ten pirogues, all ready for captains to shove off and navigate the boggy water in search of secrets and tales, or at the least, something to put on the table.
Guido slapped a hand to his neck, pulling back a smear of blood. The day was ripe, and the mosquitos were already out searching for hosts. I dug in my bag and brought out the bug repellent I had packed.
“Close your eyes,” I said. “No one wants to get West Nile Virus.”
Lou’s eyes went wide. “Spray me, too!”
Brando laughed, shaking his head. Still, everyone let me coat their bodies in the foul-smelling spray to ward off the undesirables flying around undetected, until they sank their sharp teeth into your flesh. My reasoning had always been:if it has wings, it has an advantage. Better to act first.
By the time I had spritzed the entire group—all of Brando’s brothers and their wives, Donato and Chiara, every child, and a few of the men (mostly cousins)—Eva and Gabriel had come out to greet us.
“What’s that smell?” a child with no parent around asked, sniffing in our direction, wrinkling his nose.
I held up the bottle. “You need some?”
“Noooo!” he screamed, running away.
Gabriel and Eva laughed before they embraced the entire group of us one by one. Juliette and Eva hugged longer, rocking back and forth.
“I can’t believe mybébécousin is a married woman!” She squeezed Juliette one last time. Then she turned to all of us, a huge smile on her face. “Come on, na’, let’s get ya’ll something cold to drink and some food! We’re overflowing with both.”
We all laughed when Nino asked in Italian if Eva or Juliette had single sisters or cousins.
“Plenty!” Eva said. “Lots of cousins.”
“Amen,” Nino said, and his eyes started to roam.
He had a plethora of women to pick from. The place was packed, and more than half were female. His odds were good.
Brando wasted no time socializing or letting me linger. He picked out a pirogue for us, handed me a pair of new rubber boots that Eva and Gabriel had placed out for guests, and loaded his fishing gear. He helped me into the boat and took his seat, pushing away from land with a paddle.
The pirogue is the French cousin of the canoe, lower to ward off the wind, but not as stable. The boat tipped precariously from side to side until Brando had a firmer handle on it.
“Is my camera going to be okay?” I asked, lifting the strap from my neck, showing it to him.
“I don’t plan on capsizing,” he said, a rueful tone to his voice.
“Please,” I said. “You can see a shark, but alligators are another story. They’re sneaky.”
He made a dismissive noise at this. “You take too many baths and brush your teeth way too much. You’re too fresh for a gator. They like the stank of rotting meat.”
“Jesus,” I said, glancing around the water. It was as dark as whiskey, and algae floated on its surface, the perfect disguise for such a prehistoric beast. “But here’s the thing. They have to kill before the meat starts to stink. They hide their prey and then wait for the gases.”
He didn’t seem daunted; of course, he knew all of this as well as I did. He wanted to intimidate me enough to go crawling to his side. Tough luck. Myculowas glued to the seat for the time being.
“You want to turn back, Ballerina Girl?” I could see the dare in his eyes, made fiercer by the baseball hat he wore turned backward— he was representing Italy’s soccer (football) team. His Ray-Bans sat on top of the hat.
Sweat ran from his temples. His muscles strained as the paddles worked, the perfect specimen, full of virility, pushing us farther and farther from the bank. Humidity coated him in moisture that made his skin glimmer bronze. The blazing sun hit his dark eyes, softening them to a brown the color of dark honey.
He had the sort of face that automatically made women curious as to his motives, but damn the consequences.
He was much more than his looks, though, andthathit you just as hard as his physical beauty. When he came, he came with a one-two punch.
