Sandra Hill - [Jinx 03] by Wild Jinx Read Free Book Online Page B

in front of Sylvie. She’d roast your balls over one of her bunson burners and serve them to you in a hot gumbo.” Sylvie was a chemist, and the love of Luc’s life. About fifty, they’d been married forever, but were devoted to each other, like all the LeDeux men were once they settled down with their women, except for their father.
    “Ouch.” Luc pretended to hold his crotch.
    “Well, I’ve had enough of bein’ your joke pin cushion.” John got up from the rocking chair and walked down to help Tante Lulu and Charmaine set out some food. To his back, one of his brothers muttered, “Spoilsport.”
    Charmaine was arranging food on the folding tables set about the back lawn. Every couple minutes she swiveled her hips and sang along in Cajun French to the zydeco music playing softly from the boom box near her feet. It was René’s band The Swamp Rats singing on a CD demo they’d made several years back.
    He smacked Charmaine on the butt.
    She yelped and jumped back. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Sex-for-hire, bless his heart. Tell me, sweetie, what did you charge for . . . ” Charmaine mentioned something so explicit she almost made him blush. Almost. Then she wagged a long-nailed, red-enameled forefinger at him. “Tsk, tsk, tsk! Y’all better stay away from Tante Lulu. She’s been rehearsin’ a few words for you on the subject.”
    “She already told me what she thinks.”
    She smiled, knowing exactly what he meant.
    “My name was never mentioned in that article, ya know.”
    “Puh-leeze!”
    “Why does everyone keep sayin’ that?” he complained.
    Charmaine wouldn’t be working on this treasure hunt; she had more than enough to do with her dude ranch/beauty spas, and her three-year-old Mary Lou, who was a female clone of her daddy, Raoul Lanier. Everyone said that Rusty . . . or Raoul . . . was so good-looking women stopped on the street to gawk at him. He couldn’t see it himself, but then he was a guy. It was probably because he was a cowboy; women went apeshit over cowboys.
    “You oughta let me dye your hair blond and stop wearin’ that silly wig,” Charmaine offered. “Where’d you buy it? Wal-Mart?”
    “No way! You are not touchin’ my hair. No offense, but you’d probably throw in a perm or dreadlocks.”
    “You need long hair for dreadlocks.”
    “See, you would’ve actually considered it.”
    She slapped his arm. Then she turned serious. “Are you really in enough danger that you need a disguise?”
    He shrugged. “These are bad guys.”
    She squeezed his shoulder. “You be careful, hear?”
    Charmaine wasn’t really a blood relative of Tante Lulu; nor was John, but they were both children of Valcour LeDeux, as were Tante Lulu’s three natural great-nephews, Luc, Remy, and René. To Tante Lulu they were all kin, blood or not.
    Watching Charmaine and Tante Lulu bustle around the tables, he had to smile. In some ways, Charmaine, a former Miss Louisiana, could have been her daughter, so much alike were they in attitude. With big black Texas hair, tall as a model, and stacked like Pamela Anderson, she wore tight white capri pants, a leopard print halter top, and high-heeled wedgies.
    This was probably the way Tante Lulu had dressed when she was young. Even though she was only five-foot tall and ninety-two years old, the old lady still dressed outrageously. Today she’d dyed her short, curly hair red, and she wore her favorite purple shorts with its matching lavender tank top with a built-in bra. Grandma Moses with cleavage! Her only concession to her age was the orthopedic shoes, but she’d painted red polka dots on them. Lots of people didn’t look past Tante Lulu’s appearance, but those here in the bayou knew her for the accomplished
traiteur,
or healer, that she was.
    “Another great adventure, Auntie?” He gave her a hug.
    She didn’t push him away, but she didn’t answer him either.
    “Givin’ me the silent treatment,
chère?
”
    Turning, she glared at him.
    “My