Page 11 of Playing With Her

I watch as Dad’s face turns redder. Virtual steam is come from his ears and nose. Mom had the forethought to move away. When we pulled apart from our hug, she decided to use herself, walking him backwards, putting herself in his line of sight.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t talk to me like that. Isabelle is my wife, and Amelie is my daughter. I’m not leaving!” Dad slams his fist down on the countertop near where he stands. I jump back, Boston holding me steady the entire time. I bring my phone up, and unlock it, fingers pressing 9-1-1 without looking. The years texting as a teenager and in college, then working at the Inn, I had to multitask. School, work, social life, you learn how to text without looking. The last thing you want to be doing is walking, looking down at your phone, and run into another person or an object that doesn’t bounce back. You’d lose your phone as well as hurt yourself.

“Noah, leave. The last thing anyone wants is for you to make a scene, not for us but for yourself as well,” Mom says stoically, maintaining her composure when all I want to do is throw the first available cooking utensil—pot, baking sheet, cast iron skillet, it doesn’t matter as long as it hits him in a way that will keep him from running his mouth.

“I told you I am not fucking leaving!” I hit the speaker phone option on my phone.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” is blasted throughout the entire kitchen.

“Yes, I’d like to report a trespasser at LeBlanc Inn. We’ve asked him to leave several times, but he won’t. We’d like an officer to escort him off the premises.” I just made an enemy. What he doesn’t realize is the damn I once gave as a little girl is no longer there. In its place is a woman who will protect her family at all costs.

“This is fucking bullshit. I’m leaving. Amelie, you’ll regret this. Isabelle, just you wait until my lawyer gets ahold of your ass. I’ll own everything. Every fucking thing. And you, fuck you, coming into my family’s place in your expensive clothes. Stupid piece of shit!” My body propels itself forward, breaking away from the hold Boston currently has on me. What will I do once I reach my bastard of a father? Well, I have not one freaking clue. Slap him in the face, knee him in the balls, really, there’s no telling. Boston isn’t going to let that happen. His hand slides from my hip to my abdomen, and he takes a step back, bringing me with him.

“Calm down, beautiful. A man like that, you don’t fight fire with fire. You hit him where it hurts, in his wallet,” Boston whispers in my ear. I whip my head over my shoulder, trying to figure out what his game plan involves. He’s tight lipped, jaw set, clenching his teeth; it’s the look of determination that keeps me from questioning him further.

Finally, Dad decides to leave and gives us his back, slamming through the swinging doors so hard they hit the walls. Mom is startled yet stays standing, a hand to her throat and the weight of the world on her shoulders. “Boston, thank you. I’m not sure how I can ever repay you.”

“That’s good, because there isn’t a need. I’m going to call my attorney. With any luck, he’ll be down here tomorrow morning. Amelie, finish the call on the phone. Let them know he left, and you’d like to file a report all the same.” He presses a kiss to the side of my head, leaving me reeling yet again. I’m a fish out of water with my mouth opening and closing, attempting to recover from what transpired moments ago.

EIGHTEEN

Boston

“Man,when you need me, you really fucking need me,” Sly says into the phone when I call him after what went down.

“You are not wrong. Get whatever you can on Noah Boudreaux and destroy him. This takes precedence over the shit with my parents,” I seethe, my eyes still on the two women who are huddled together, talking quietly where Amelie and I were standing before the phone call.

“Holy fuck, that’s Amelie’s last name. Is this her ex-husband? I kind of need more details, boss.” No fucking kidding. I’m going to have to lay it all out now.

“Not her ex-husband. He’s Amelie’s father. The same piece of shit who tried to sell me the property I wanted. He came in, said a few choice words, and rocked their world. Cops have been called, but who the fuck knows how long it will take for them to actually show up. The call should be in the database. I’ll have Ezra hack in to have it on file. He’s been fighting Amelie’s mom, Isabelle, for nearly a year now, which makes no damn sense. Adultery was involved, so you tell me what you think is really going on. Louisiana isn’t a no-fault state in the way of a spouse cheating on the other. The way I see it, Noah Boudreaux has something on the judge, and her lawyer isn’t the pit bull mine is.” I take a breath and run my hand through my hair, hearing Sly type away on his computer. He’s taking notes, always is. You can tell him the most intricate story, and he’ll type the cliffs, come up with a strategy and executes it with little to no delay. “Either way, pull whatever strings you have, get this shit as well as the purchase of the building locked and loaded. Then work on the shit stain of my own father. Mom making a play at the same time my dad disowns me publicly speaks volumes now that I think about it.”

“I’ll grab the transcript from dispatch now. Ezra doesn’t need to hack into their database and potentially get caught. I’ve got someone on my staff who used to work with all those three-letter agencies. She’ll be in and out, all doors closed without anyone the wiser. I won’t be able to use it in court, but it’s something to hold over a head should we need to use that piece of information. As for the other stuff, I’ll be down there first thing tomorrow morning. There’s a lot I can do from my office, but this I can’t. Plus, it’d be nice to see the look on their faces when I slam them with evidence.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going to make sure Amelie and Isabelle are alright, then set up a call with the others. Thanks again, Sly,” I respond. He’s probably got a whole slew of other clients who consume his time. Sylvester taking a day away from the office and courtroom means a lot, even if it’s coming with a fat-as-fuck bill.

“You got it. Go take care of your girl. I’ll text you tomorrow on my way to the Inn.”

“Sounds good. Later.”

“Later, boss.” We hang up. I pocket my phone and walk to where Amelie and her mother are standing. Both look like they’ve been put through the wringer with small smiles on their faces and color in Amelie’s cheeks.

“Everyone okay?” I ask. My hand lingers on Amelie’s lower back. Her warmth settles me, her scent intoxicates me, and Christ, her presence grounds me.

“Yeah, Mom was telling me that I need to make our child be a boy. She’s spoiled a girl before, and it would be better not to have a girl; they take your beauty, your clothes, and your makeup. Plus, you have to worry about boys sniffing around your teenage daughter.” A growl leaves my throat. I’ve yet to think about the future too far in advance. First things first. Get my house situated, get Amelie moved in, marry her, and then deal with things as they come. But, fuck, now I’m here hoping she has a boy, too, where before I couldn’t have cared less.

“Make sure you give me a boy first. The second child can be a girl. I’m going to need as many men around if our daughter is half as beautiful as her mother,” I grumble. If we’re living down here, my brothers won’t be here to help me stand guard either. Shit, I’m going to get an ulcer from worry now.

“Awe, that’s so sweet,” Isa swoons. Amelie rolls her eyes.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t get the choice in the making of a boy or a girl,” my woman states.

“You could have twins; they run on you grandmothers’ side, who is my mom. Maybe it skipped a generation?” Amelie groans, her head tipping back hitting me in the chest. This woman and her penchant for hitting her head against any object available.

“Hush, take it back. Don’t you say it again. Tell her, Boston, two babies at once, oh my gosh, it’s like you’re asking for me to have saggy baggy’s and a stretched vagina.” Amelie spins around. “Tell her, tell her right now. You don’t understand. If you don’t, she’ll manifest it, every single day until it happens.”

“Sorry, Isabelle, we heard the heartbeat, and there was only one. Maybe next time.” I wink for good measure.

“Who said anything about having more children? As far as I’m concerned, you can check into your own room. No one said you can stay with me.” Amelie’s pointer finger hits my chest. All I can do is laugh. She’s a mess. I’ve never seen this frazzled side of her; it’s fucking cute.

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