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“Ah, now see, we all don’t like that, either. When you’re with a girl? She’s the only girl. The only pretty girl. You can look, but if you really want to make her swoon? Don’t eeeever tell her another girl is prettier. Understand?”

“Even if da other girl is prettier?”

“Even if the other girl is supermodel hot. You lie your ass off.”

“Lyin’s a sin.”

“God will forgive you for this one,” I say around another bite of the sandwich.

“I t’ink I see da error of my ways.”

“Good. Good talk.” I pop the last bite into my mouth and lick the grease from my fingers.

“Dang, girl. You even taste dat?”

“Mmmm. Hmm-mmm.” Holding up a finger, I shake my head as I continue chewing the last of it and gulp it back. “That’s another thing …. We don’t talk about how fast, or how much, a girl eats, mm’kay?”

“I gotta lot to learn.”

“You do. Fortunately for you, I got nothing better to do today.”

Like the day before, Luc loads up a cooler with some beer, and pop that I requested as an alternative, and we spend the day on the water, fishing at his favorite spots, chatting about his horrible history with women, and his admiration for Thierry. How growing up was hard living for him, and he always hoped to open his own Valir restaurant. To have even a small measure of the success Thierry has had with the club. A part of me wants to tell him how badly his cousin wants out, and that it has little to do with his own organic success and a lot to do with the money provided by the cartel. By the time we arrive back at his house, the sun has begun is descent, and I’m burnt to a crisp. And starving.

Carrying in the cooler now filled with the fish that he mostly caught, Luc pauses to answer a call. “Dis Luc.” His brow crinkles with a frown, and he sets the cooler down, rubs a hand down his face. “Mais, non. When was dat?”

The immediate tension in his shoulders tells me something is wrong.

“I’ll talk to ‘im. Not you. I’ll do it. Yep. Bye.”

When he clicks out of the call, he groans, lifting the cooler again.

“Everything okay? You sound very unhappy-go-Luc-y right now.” I can’t help snorting at the stupid play on words.

“Some couillon broke into da store last night an’ stole a bunch of boudin. Camera caught da whole thing. Not da smartest tool in da shed, him.”

“You know him?”

“Yeah. Grew up wit’ him. Known his family for years.”

“So, why not call the police?”

“We don’ tend to get da sheriff involved unless we have to, ‘round here. I’ll go talk to ‘im. Most folks don’ steal unless they need it. All he had to do was aks me.”

“There goes that kind nature of yours again, Luc. So’ I’m staying here’ I take it?”

“Well, I can’t take you wit’ me. Could get a little hostile, at first.”

“I thought you were about keeping the peace.”

“Well, he needs an ass beatin’ first. Teach ‘im a lesson.”

“Okay, I’ll just stay here, then. Until you get back. An ass beating doesn’t take long, does it?”

Frown crossing his face, he rubs his jaw. “Thierry woundn’ like dat much, either. You know anyone else you could stay wit’ for a couple hours?”

“Um. I don’t know if staying somewhere else is a good idea for me right now.”

“I promised Thierry I wouldn’ leave you alone. S’pose I could take you to my boy Jordan’s house. He’d keep an eye on you.”