Chapter 21
madison
. . .
Ialmost took Washington up on his offer to attend Wednesday dinner. Truth was, I missed my family, the ones who had always been there, the warmth of their love filling the air. I’d called Washington later in the evening to ask about what good eats his momma had cooked. He hadn’t answered.
I’d already finished my workday and was tearing out of my glassblowing gear. Omari stood across the room, as if expecting me to strip out of my jeans and shirt. “Well, good morning, Mr. Riche,” I said, something between a smile and a grimace that read, Cool your jets, bro.
“Good morning.” He offered me a Café de Monde cup.
“Thanks.” I took my drink. “Any updates on your connection at HomeGoods?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Omari pulled over an aluminum stool and sat down. “Martin will be in town the Saturday after next.”
“Crap,” I muttered. When he arched a thick brow, I elaborated. “I’ll be at a winery with Wash.”
“Okay, Sunday.”
“It’s in Shreveport.”
“Damn, so y’all are making a weekend of it?”
Pending some technicalities. Shonda said, Big toe. If my toe touched the threshold of my old home on Friday night, then yep, we’d have a helluva time at that vineyard. I said, “We can make it back Sunday afternoon.”
“How about that Monday? I’m rooting for y’all.”
“You are?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Besides, one word from him, I catch a case.”
“Touché.” I smiled, walking toward the cement building’s exit.
Out front, Zuri’s Maserati sat parallel outside, and I climbed in. “What’s on the menu for lunch?”
“Brightening up Momma Virginia’s day.”
“What?” I reached for the door handle.
She pressed the lock button, and my heart channeled a marching band, beating fast. First the cops kidnapped me for hours, then Washington threatened to pull a Bundy and Dahmer by not wanting me to leave him. Now this?
“Look,” Zuri said, “CeCe Winans and The King of Zydeco aren’t doing anything for her today. So, I was thinking, me, you, Phoenix, and G—”
“If you finish with that woman’s name, I will leap from this car. Slow to a good twenty-five miles per hour. I’m not that confident in my tuck and roll.”
“You know they use safety gear.”
“I do. I watched a lot of behind-the-scenes footage on HBO in college. Of course, I’d tapped into someone else’s cable.”
She stared at me.
“Don’t judge. I’d dropped out of Stanford, swapped the law track for art.
My parents had financially abandoned me.
” Or full-blown abandoned me if we wanted to get technical.
“So, I was thinking, with the controlled speed, body positioning, and a tucked chin, and perhaps you slowing down near a patch of grass, I’d be all good. ”
“Maddy, you’re not getting out of this car. Besides, you owe me. We’re supposed to be going bridesmaid shopping.”
“Who. Are. Your. Bridesmaids?”
“Obvi, you. Phoenix. She’s gotta get with Tennessee. They’ve been friends since elementary school, right? I’ve lived here half a year; their love is painfully obvious.”
“Agreed. They have been playing games since pitty-pat and the sandboxes,” I mumbled.
“See? I may be a doctor and know the tangible qualities of the heart, but I can see its intangible qualities too … which is a miracle considering my own love trauma and living on the run for years with Darius. I guess Montana brought out the love in me by being so annoyingly charismatic.”
“Mm-hmm.” I smiled, elated that she was free from her son’s father. Satan’s minions now kept that man preoccupied in the special all-inclusive resort in hell that he bargained for.
“Zuri. Stop deflecting. Who’s the third maid? There’s no way Montana doesn’t have a groomsman position for all his brothers. It better be someone not local.”
“Oh, c’mon, you know I grew up foster. The only friend I had after procreating with Dr. Menace was the wife of a college buddy. The one who helped me create all those fake identities? Anyway, they’re going through IVF … so she couldn’t commit as a bridesmaid.”
“Still deflecting?” I narrowed my eyes, although her story touched me.
Zuri had moved to New Orleans to protect her son from Dr. Menace.
She’d spent Darius’s entire life undercover, sacrificing all her education and eventually working at Hot Chicken & Peach Pit Maison, where she met Montana.
She’d definitely humbled him, and he was better for it.
“A woman … who shan’t be named.” Zuri turned down Royal Street. “She’ll walk with her cousin, Tex.”
“Ugh, I knew it! Lord knows Genèse will wear the hell out of a knockoff, but she better bring a refund for her lifetime subscription of attitude after we get our bridesmaids’ gifts. We are getting gifts, right? Not that I need one. I know Montana is—”
“On a mission to grace every gossip magazine for Most Expensive Wedding Ever. Even if he only has ten people on the guest list, since humans annoy him. ‘They want his Dodger money.’ ”
“Yeah, that. He’s the only bougie person I know who wants everybody to see him shine, without having that you-get-a-taco-and-you-get-a-taco mentality.”
“That bougie baller will allow others to watch him eat a taco stuffed with gold leaves,” Zuri said.
We laughed as we climbed out of the car, and I held the door open for her at the Babineaux restaurant. I stared at her in awe. “Sis, where you been all my life?”
Zuri smirked.
“No, really, you’ve mastered the art of clowning this family and still loving them. You’re amazing, Dr. Babineaux.”
“Madison, I love the sound of that.” She thanked me and entered the plush restaurant first. A second later, our smiling faces vanished. “Now, we’ve gotta help Momma Babineaux find Tex.”
We met again the following Thursday, commencing our unofficial support group lunch date, and posted up in one of those plush emerald booths at Hot Chicken & Peach Pit Maison. The whole place screamed, Montana got money, from the gold sconces to the air heavy with crawfish etouffee and ambition.
I sipped the restaurant’s specialty, Hot Girl Sweet Tea, with extra lemon, because life would always trip you up and get sourer. Yeah, that sounded like a word.
As Zuri sat across from me on an emerald velvet banquette, I instigated our find-the-missing-twin campaign with, “So, voicemails are out. Texas’s phone is full, not accepting anymore messages.”
“Sorry, traffic.” Phoenix slid in next to me, super thick body built like a blessing and a warning label. “Have you tried texting? I would, but we had a situation in the fifth grade, me and the twins. So, I only text Ten.”
Code for Tennessee’s ass got jealous. Good, she was here. We’d hit the heavy stuff before Virginia sat down. My head tilted. “Texts are a superb idea, assuming he responds. Each time I pop in a message, I feel like I’m ghosting myself.”
Phoenix gave me that gentle smile of hers, eyes soft but reading me like the substance one only tells their diary. Her Louisiana Creole accent slipped out like butter. “Mo komprenn,” she murmured.
I knew she understood, but it was nice of her to say it. Her deep, kind eyes seemed to glimpse the parts of me that were tired of hoping.
“It’s discouraging,” Phoenix said, agreeing with a smirk. “Honey, I feel you. Sometimes, though? Folks need to know you’re reaching out. Even if they’re too broken to reach back.”
She wasn’t wrong. I’d been there. I’d been so depressed my prayers had side-eyes. I sipped my drink again, craving Swamp Water Sangria with an extra oomph of courage. But alas, sweet tea and trauma were my cocktail today.
Momma Virginia swept up to the table like Sunday service royalty, Genèse clacking behind her with knockoff-brand-VIP energy.
We switched topics. Wedding colors, Sandstone Serenity, Champagne Toast, and Manchester Tan, became the focal point.
Because nothing said classy chaos like shades that sounded drunk and rich at the same time.
Those colors complemented Dodger Blue, since Zuri claimed she never had a favorite color growing up.
Virginia chuckled, holding up a pumpernickel swatch. “Surround me with more people.”
“You know she means little people,” I mouthed-whispered to Zuri, even if that was a stretch since we were talking shades of beige.
“Wi, chère.” Virginia laughed, bumping my shoulder with hers. “Surround me with more little people! All of you.”
“Not me.” Phoenix shook her cinnamon-colored curly fro.
My eyes watered. Damn emotions crept up with the same nerve as unpaid bills.
“I know my bébés that y’all talk about Texas’s disappearance before I sit, then when I get up, y’all recap your next steps. Don’t play with me.”
I froze mid-sip. “Well …” I began. She wasn’t wrong.
“I know y’all mean no harm, trying to keep me safe.”
“Yes, Momma Virginia. We didn’t want you to be hurt.” I placed my hand on hers.
“I know. It’s good, and I thank you. I think you needed this, too, Madison.” Virginia turned her hand over, clasping mine. “You let Wash back into your life. Now your sistahs.”
“Sorry,” I murmured. “I never meant to push y’all away.”
“You’re fine, m? fiy, but we’re not meant to go it alone. We don’t grieve like people without hope. We speak life over each other, chère. That’s our healing: community and sharing love.”
I cherished hearing Momma Virginia call me her daughter again.
Phoenix raised her glass. “We grieve with gumbo on the stove, Miss Virginia’s stove, and laughter in our bellies. That’s our healing.”
“Wait, I thought shrimp and grits were on the stove.” Zuri winked.
“Mm-hmm,” I said, “Momma Virginia knows our favorites.”
“Pah, you coulda fooled me, knowing that,” she said. “You haven’t come over for grillades.”
Since I lacked an acceptable answer, and she didn’t take no mess, I nodded to Phoenix. “How is it that you’re the youngest, yet you’ve bequeathed that seasoned testimony, though? Laughter in our bellies. I forgot how good it was for the soul.”
Phoenix blushed, cheeks the same color as her hair. She was always bashful. She had mentioned that joining a krewe helped her break free from shyness and embrace her full figure. But once in a while, it still peeked through. Phoenix had a good heart.
I glanced at Genèse, who sipped her free drink, eyes roaming the restaurant, eager for drama.
How was this woman even a Babineaux? Genèse was the twins’ bio-cousin, and though I’d never had the pleasure of meeting Texas and Tennessee’s father, I knew his entire family were angels, so I wasn’t sure how this little demon manifested herself.
We all knew she was only here for a free meal.
She played with her phone the entire time, only chiming in to vote for Bougie Boutique Beige without raising her eyes to glance at any of the swatches.
After eating, Virginia slid out of the booth. “Y’all leave without getting desserts and saying orévwar, there will be trouble, ya heard?”
“We won’t, Auntie,” Genèse said, smiling so hard, I swear her lip gloss started plotting crimes.
As soon as Virginia disappeared behind the kitchen door, Genèse sat forward, eyes glittering. Oh, here we go. She must’ve been waiting for adult ears to leave, so she could act the way Virginia called mannish.
“I just wanna say …” Genèse toyed with her straw, real coy. “This whole wedding situation may not be a good idea.”
“Situ-what?” I snarled, halfway offended and ready to baptize her in sweet tea.
Zuri raised her brow and stayed quiet, even though beneath her education sat a woman who was done with this creature.
“Genèse.” Phoenix’s lips tugged into a tight smirk. “What do you mean, wedding situation? Or is this about that other woman? Your bestie done chased after Montana for years. She failed, no question, booboo.”
“No, it’s—”
“Good, then give your quick, ‘My bad,’ because enough is enough!” Phoenix lowered her voice. “You married, Genèse. I’d tell you to go sit yourself down somewhere, but I doubt that would work. The only man you ever need to check is your husband.”
Genèse blinked.
“Yes, I’m coming for you,” Phoenix added, her hands shaking. “Zuri is too nice. And I’m at the next step of my anti-shyness campaign. Besides, you’ve sat here this week and last week. Said nothing about anything. Ain’t this the first time you’ve mentioned the wedding?”
Preach! I wished this woman were my other sister-in-law.
Tennessee and Phoenix often dressed up together.
They matched. Twinsies. Yet, rumor had it, he never benefited from the situation.
It was as if Shonda had morphed herself into their situationship and drafted a no-sex clause, thus nullifying their besties with benefits.
But he needed this woman. I needed this woman!
She shaded with facts. All facts. And you couldn’t get mad at her.
We all stared at Genèse for a rebuttal.
But how did the boys’ cousin respond?
Miss Messy … burst into tears.