God does not like fibbers, you-know-who said in his head.
Fleur and Dirk had not yet emerged from their sardine can of love. So much for her hard exercise regimen! Well, actually, maybe she had been getting a hard exercise regimen, though Raoul had never heard of sex curing cellulite. Could be a new invention.
“What are you smilin’ about, Lanier?” Remy asked. “Charmaine must be treatin’ you better these days?”
“Hardly.” I may as well be a born-again virgin, too, for all the action I’m getting. Not that action with Charmaine would be a good idea. Well, it would be a good bad idea, if that makes any sense, which it doesn’t.
“Not to worry. Tante Lulu brought him a hope chest,” Remy told his brothers with a decided twinkle in his eyes.
All three men grinned at him.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“You are such dead meat, you,” Luc said. “Speaking from experience.”
“I am not afraid of that old lady,” he boasted.
“Dead meat,” Luc repeated.
“Seriously, Rusty, you best throw in the towel now,” René advised. “When Tante Lulu pulls out the hope chest, the writing is on the wall.”
“But wait, you haven’t heard the best part,” Luc contributed, looking at each of his brothers. “Sylvie told me that Charmaine is a born-again virgin.”
“No way!” René said.
“Exactly what is a born-again virgin?” Remy wanted to know.
“She might even have her doo-hickey sewed back up,” Luc contributed.
Everyone turned to Raoul with eyebrows arched in question.
“She has good reasons for doing this,” he said and couldn’t believe he was actually defending such as asinine decision.
Their eyebrows remained arched, now with disbelief.
“Charmaine has been shakin’ her bootie like a wild thang since she was fourteen, no offense intended, Rusty. Suddenly, she’s turned into Miss Pureheart?” It was René voicing this skepticism.
Raoul took a long swig of beer, then replied, “Charmaine is a drama queen. I suspect she’s always been all vine and no taters.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Luc asked.
“She’s had a reputation for being a bad girl since she was a kid, mainly ’cause of her stripper mama. Charmaine decided early on that she might as well play the game if she already had the name. Except, for the most part, she just pretended to play… if you get my drift.”
The odd thing was that they all nodded as if that made perfect sense. I’m in real trouble if I’m starting to make sense.
“Actually, a friend of mine described her behavior perfectly. It’s called protective coloration. That’s a technical term for animal behavior.” Raoul was on a roll now. “You see, animals adapt to their surroundings as a defense mechanism, often by changing their color to camouflage them in the wild. A sort of defense mechanism. That’s what Charmaine does with all her outrageous clothing and behavior. It’s just a defense.”
Now all three men stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Maybe his roll was actually a dip.
“What a load of bullshit!” René concluded.
“Who was this friend who described Charmaine like that? Betcha it was a woman.” Luc stared at him, then hooted with laughter when Raoul’s face heated up. “It was. Oh, Dieu, this is priceless.”
“Take my advice,” Remy said gently, even as his lips twitched with laughter. “Don’t expound that bit of wisdom to Charmaine. If you did, I would have to nominate you for the Dumb Man of the Year award.”
Luc pulled his briefcase closer to him on the floor and pulled out a file. “Changing the subject…”
Thank you, God!
“I’ve got some news,” he said.
“Good news?”
Luc shrugged. “Could be.” He handed the file to him, most of which had been prepared by the P.I., Zerby, and waited for him to read it over.
“This guy is good,” Raoul said finally. “So, he thinks the cop Gaudet is working with Blue Heron Oil. And he believes Blue Heron Oil might have been responsible for my dad’s death, even if only indirectly.”
“Yep,” Luc replied.
“At least it’s not Cypress Oil. As much as Charmaine dislikes her father, she would be devastated if he was involved in this dirty mess.”