Chapter 28 Montana
montana
. . .
“If you and Mémère see any floats, I swear, y’all better not touch them,” I said, squatting to Little Dude’s level.
“Aww, I want a cake baby.”
“My boy!” Did I say that?
After the way his momma and me connected in Paris, I had plans on Valentine’s Day, but I was already claiming them as my family. Gotta make sure Zuri stays, though.
“Hey,” I caught Darius’s attention as a man on stilts strolled by, head even with the top balcony. “Don’t go near no giants either. It’s a long way down if they fall.”
“Ugh. I can’t do nothing.”
“Darius,” Zuri groaned.
“What did I say, Darius?” Damned if I didn’t sound like a daddy.
He regurgitated what I’d said through pouted lips. “Don’t mess with giants or floats.”
I winked at Zuri, telling them both, “Ain’t no plastic babies in the floats. Cake later.”
“You had this little boy … who has practically never gone anywhere … think the float had babies inside it?” Zuri had her hand on her hip, while I gestured for her to walk.
She remained that way, giving me a no-you-didn’t face while Momma and Little Dude disappeared behind a juggler on stilts. If the guy timbered, I hoped Momma snatched Darius up and ran.
“Walk, chère,” I ordered.
“Okay, but we need to visit Mad, Bold & Blown.”
My eyes almost bugged. Who told her about Madison’s glass store?
“It’s going out of business,” she added. “I think a sistah owns it. I wanna support.”
“It’s what?” I growled as a street performer dressed as Dracula tried to get our attention. No Paranormal mess. Never played at St. Louis Cemetery and didn’t need this crap in my spirit.
Zuri asked, “You know the owner?”
“Yeah, Wash’s ex-wife. Mad,” I murmured, while we hoofed it past the vampire I might have shoulder-checked.
On our walk to St. Peter’s Street, we took a few selfies that Zuri assumed I’d post online. Nah. These were all still mine. I was waiting for the day when she checked my socials. She still hadn’t.
We’d stopped for a fresh beignet. The kind that comes buried under a mountain of powdered sugar.
Zuri reached over and gave me this teensy little pinch of the sweet dough.
“What I’m supposed to do with that, Zuri?” I stared at her. “You playing with my food.”
“Our food.” She rolled her eyes, but that smile was already there, the one that makes a dude forget he has a four-year-old trying to dismantle Mardi Gras floats—before the big day.
She took the whole warm, pillowy disk and placed it against my mouth.
In retrospect, this situation would look better with her mouth open.
Eyes rolling, I took the beignet and teased her lips. “Open wide, chère. Earn it.”
Her eyes smoldered for a quick second, telling me exactly where this was going later. Then she took a delicate, tiny bite.
“It’s like that?” I nodded. “This is worse than when we went dancing.”
“How?” she asked, strolling slowly. “My heels stabbed your toes.”
“I remember.” I shook my head, matching her stride.
“Still worse.” The pastry left a little something, something on her lips.
As I stepped into Zuri’s path, I savored the sweet taste of sugar dust on her bottom lip with my tongue.
And then I stepped back before she could kiss me.
“That’s all you get. And I’m talking about me and the beignet. ”
Just before I took a big bite, she shoved me. Not a cute, playful shove. Zuri had me doing a two-step to stop from colliding with a vendor handing out beads.
“Damn, bébé, you big mad over fried dough? Or is it Big Country?”
“Gimme the goods, Montana,” she ordered, hand on her hip.
I bit my half, a little more than half, then handed it over as we strolled toward Madison’s place. Depending on my ex-sister-in-law’s mood swings, she might be a hammock in a hurricane or the sistah Washington met and loved from Stanford University.
Once we arrived on St. Peter’s, I was still feeling a buzz from Zuri’s petty little beignet shove, when I glared up at the sign. “Final Sale! Everything Must Go!”
That sign hung in the drafty-ass wind. Man, Washington needed to know his wife—who’d already hit rock bottom—had thrown on a hard hat and started swinging a metal bat to see how low she could go.
“See!” Zuri dragged me inside. Although a small area, Madison had always kept the place cluttered with her hand-blown-glass pieces.
Them shelves were now balder than somebody’s edges.
What happened? I knew it all went downhill since Elijah, but this?
No matter how much Momma prayed for them to get it together, it never happened.
Zuri checked out a curvy, confident woman figurine in a bright-pink dress, striking a so-what? pose. She bounced—same as Darius, just needed some light-up shoes—to another cobalt-blue phoenix.
“Oh, this one!” She ran a hand over a transparent glass figurine. “This one is giving me I’m thriving despite the chaos of my life energy.”
“It’s beautiful, bébé.” I glanced around. Mad? Where you at girl? Forget the 50 percent-off sign on the door. The five-finger discount seemed the way to go.
No one around. I followed Zuri to a glass vase and made my move. Had to. When Momma was away … I brushed a loc from her cheek, pulling her in, right between two empty display cases.
A grin spread across her face as she took a quick look around. “Montana?”
“Uh-uh, don’t gimme that Awkward Black Girl Energy, Zuri. Give me desperate, chaotic, I want this man so bad, I don’t care where we at vibe,” I murmured against her mouth.
“Here?” she gasped between kisses, her eyes wide, but her body molded to mine.
“Ain’t nobody here.” I tightened my grip on her waist and pulled her flush. She was so short, stood just under my chin. Exactly where she needed to be. “Since we came back from Paris, you been running from me. Now’s my time. I’ll buy it. The little magenta woman. The whole damn store, chère.”
She laughed, a throaty, sexy sound that made me forget we were in public. She started kissing me back, but because she was so tiny, her mouth moved from mine, tracing a fiery path down my neck, then my chest. Man, she was graceful with it. She worked her way down.
“Not there,” I groaned.
“Yeah, there.”
“You know my belly button is ticklish.” I chuckled, twining some of her hair around my hand as she continued lower.
A forced cough, soft yet snappish, interrupted us. “Well, now! Don’t let me intrude on the private showing.”
My eyes snapped open. I yanked a frozen Zuri to her full height, almost knocking off her wig. Arm around her waist, we turned around. “It’s alright, bébé. This is my sister.”
Madison pushed back her black, razor-sharp bob—the only thing that looked ready to cut today—and smirked.
“Loving the passion, Montana. I don’t know if it’s because she’s so pretty and short compared to your overgrown behind, but ma’am …
were you working your way down … somewhere.
” She smirked suggestively. “Perhaps, the floorboards.” She let the shade hang in the air.
Zuri’s body tensed, embarrassment radiating off her. “Hahaha.” Zuri extended a hand. “Those are very intricate floorboards. So … nice. You must be, Washington’s wife—ex-wife, Mad?” Zuri stumbled over the words, trying to recover. I doubted she was secretly shading her back.
“Mad?” Madison raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowed.
I chuckled under my breath, softly squeezing Zuri. Damn. Me and my brother’s secret nickname for Madison was coming back to haunt me. Should’ve known Zuri didn’t get that joke.
“Maddy?” Zuri corrected, cheeks all flushed. “Mad-dee. Something was stuck in my throat, I meant to say—”
“Stuck? Not yet.” Madison folded her arms, giving her a long, slow look that made Zuri melt against my chest. Then she broke out in laughter and pulled Zuri into a quick hug.
“Girl, I’m messing with you. This man thinks he’s God’s gift to the female race.
He’s a bad influence. Run. Now, what’s your name? ”
Since Zuri’s golden complexion still looked a little flushed, I spoke up. “Zuri Caldwell, MD.” I pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “She’s a real doctor, sis. You know my skills. I just persuaded her with promises of this permanent upgrade.”
Zuri’s eyes darted toward mine, pure venom. “What permanent upgrade?”
“Hmm …” Madison grinned. “Don’t worry, Zuri. As long as Big Country stares at you like you’re the finest piece of art in the entire store, I think he’s the one running. After you.”
“Why you gotta say my name like that, huh, sis?” I hugged her. “You and Momma make it sound like it came from some backwater bayou.”
But my girl—slow to warm up—ate up her compliment. “Oh, he stares at me, huh?”
“And the way he had his arm around you after y’all little messy, McNasty incident?” She chuckled. “I’m inclined to say he’s protective”—her voice seemed to break—“of you too.”
“Hey,” I asked, wondering if she missed my brother’s love and protection. “Does Wash know the store is closing?”
Her upper lip curled. “For what?”
Damn, Mad! “Listen, I want to buy everything. Also need you to make a couple more vases for me.” More than a couple, but I wouldn’t press with Zuri around.
She shrugged. “Grab what you see. Everything’s free.
Hell, even the shelves. That’s a no regarding the vases.
Don’t need the commission. The cash you gave me in January?
I used it to negotiate a way out of eviction rather than just walking away from the store.
I gotta hawk everything by the end of the month. So, as I said, it’s all free.”
“Maddy, why you tripping?”
She glared at me flatly. “I’m not a glassblower anymore.”
“You should’ve told me exactly how much you needed! You can’t—”
“You Baby-Nos love to tell someone what they can’t do.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sorry. I promised only to call your brother that, Mr. Babineaux. Now, tell your brother to stop stalking me.”
“Whatchu talking about?”
“Montana, I’m tired … of Wash. Stalking. Me.” Madison fisted her keys and took a step back. “I left the door unlocked! All this crap still here. Nobody wanted it. Take it all. Just leave the floorboards.” She glanced at Zuri, offering a smile. “The landlord owns them.”