Page 7 of Possession

“Drink.”

I clean the top of the can with the band of my sleeve and open the soda taking two very small sips.

“So what is the plan, Mr. Fabre?” I ask him. “Too much longer in this car and I’m going to vomit on everyone in here.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to bear with it a bit longer. You don’t have any identification on you which makes plane travel practically impossible in today’s post 9-11 world. Back in the day, I could have maneuvered something but the times are a-changing, Miss Taylor.”

“Why do I have to come with you at all?”

“To Josephine’s wedding? Why wouldn’t you come?”

Because a day ago I didn’t even know she had a fiancé.

“I’ll send a gift. Please let me go home.” I try appealing to whatever humanity he may possess. “This pregnancy means everything to me.”

He sighs almost apologetically. “All I wanted was to come get my daughter but there you were, ripe for the taking, so I took.”

“For what? Bringing me along has already made things difficult for you. I’m a pregnant art student with barely two nickels to rub together. How could I possibly be of any benefit to you?”

“Now, Megan, you and I both know that isn’t true,” he scoffs. “Your Mr. Middleton might give me the keys to the entire city of Los Angeles if he thought it meant getting you back. You are of great benefit to me.”

“We were nothing but good to your daughter and this is how you treat us? You left her out here in Los Angeles without a dime.”

“I didn’t leave her anywhere penniless!” For the first time today, Naomi’s father lets his sense of control slip. “That was my daughter’s own doing. Josephine, you have my permission to speak so you can address this accusation your friend has disrespected me with.”

Naomi turns to me, her face suddenly stern. “My father didn’t know where I was. If he did, he would have made sure I was taken care of. He’s a good man.”

“Are you serious, right now? Your daddy didn’t know where you were because that’s the way you wanted it, Naomi. You’re a hairstylist and a makeup artist, not a housewife. Your dream is to style Beyonce and Taylor Swift at the Grammy Awards. Not this!”

I’m trying to shake Naomi out of the stupor she’s in. Who is this girl and what has she done with my vibrant, loud mouth friend? It’s like she’s some sort of Stepford Wife who easily falls in line when her controlling father is around.

“Josephine doesn’t paint faces or fuss with hair for a living. She’s a Fabre and she will take her rightful place in the familyand make us all proud just like all the people who came before her.”

This is insane.

And this man is literally insane.

Tears fall down my face and Naomi looks away, clearly pained by my show of emotion.

I take a deep breath and try to get myself together. Being emotional about this is not getting me anywhere. If I’m going to help myself out of this situation, I’m going to have to think smarter.

“I need to eat something,” I say with resolve. “And not a snack. I need some real food. That’s part of why I’m so nauseous.”

“You heard the lady, Eddie. Let’s take a detour at the next rest stop.”

“This would have been so much easier if we could have flown home,” Eddie mutters in protest.

Home.

So we’re definitely going to Louisiana.

“It’s a good thing that your convenience doesn’t matter then,” Naomi’s father chastises him and I throw back one of Eddie’s snide smiles at him.

Then I repeat to myself what they just said and gasp. Are we driving all the way to Louisiana for an arranged wedding between my duplicitous best friend and her mobster fiance?

Oh. Hell. No.

Chapter 4

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