He had everyone’s attention now.
“There’s a warrant for Sylvie’s arrest, for one thing.”
“What?” Sylvie couldn’t for the life of her imagine any reason for her arrest. She’d never even gotten a speeding ticket, or a high school suspension. Besides, she was the one who’d been vandalized.
“Terrebonne Pharmaceuticals,” he explained, “claims you stole some of their property.”
She put her face in her hands. “I can’t believe Charles would do this to me. A warrant!” She shivered with apprehension as she comprehended that the spotlight would be on her for sure when she returned to town. A cold clamminess came over her skin… the precursor to one of her shyness anxiety attacks, she feared.
“Actually, you might look good in prison stripes, Sylv,” Luc quipped. She knew he was just teasing her, to lighten her fears.
“Hey, I could come sing ‘Jailhouse Rock’ for you in the slammer,” René added, also seeming to empathize with her devastated condition. “The Cajun version, of course.”
“If it’s anything like your ‘Cajun Knight,’ I’ll pass,” she said in an embarrassingly wobbly voice.
“You didn’t like my new song?” René cast wounded eyes her way. The boy, who was really only a few years younger than Sylvie, was way too good-looking for his own good. Those eyes probably worked on lots of women, but not her.
Still, she laughed, despite her dark mood.
“Hey, this is nothing to laugh about, guys,” Remy said. “At first, I thought the warrant was issued because of the formula… which may still be the case… but now I’m kinda thinking the property they want back is…” He looked pointedly at the Happy Meal box in her hand.
“Samson and Delilah?” she practically shrieked, and hugged the box to her chest. “They belong to me, bought and paid for with my own money.”
“Samson and Delilah?” René asked.
“Don’t ask!” she and Remy shouted as one.
“Fu—” Luc began, hesitated, grinned, then started again. “Full-fledged, furry sex machines. In other words, Sylvie’s lab rats.”
“Rats? You have real live rats in that tiny box?”
Sylvie nodded. “They’re miniature lab rats.”
“And cute as hell,” Remy observed.
Luc frowned at his brother. “They are not cute.”
“What’s all that noise they’re making?” René wanted to know.
Luc and Remy exchanged a look with each other and waggled their eyebrows at René. “Guess.”
Wanting to change the subject back to the important issue at hand, Sylvie said, “Well, a warrant is all the more reason for me to go back home and resolve this misunderstanding. My lawyer will handle Terrebonne Pharmaceuticals, believe me. Thank God I’ve got legal documentation for everything.”
“Did I mention that your mother held a press conference this evening at the state capitol in which she suggested you might have mental problems?” Remy went on. “She insinuated that a short stay in a restful resort might be called for.”
“Short, as in till after the next election?” René offered.
“Exactly,” Luc agreed.
Sylvie was horrified that her mother would do such a thing to her, and publicly, too. Anything to protect her reputation and political career from being tarnished by a less-than-perfect daughter.
Luc laced his fingers with hers and squeezed, apparently sensing her hurt. “Is that all?” he asked his brother.
“Well, other than Sylvie’s front stoop being loaded down with gris-gris dolls and other voodoo paraphernalia, that’s it for Sylvie,” Remy said. “Now, you, on the other hand, big brother, have got even more trouble.”
“How’s that possible?”
“Dad called me, and he’s practically frothing at the mouth.”
Luc shrugged. “Let me guess. I’m the biggest disappointment of his life. Always have been. Always will be. Must be my bad blood, from Mom’s side of the family, of course. Should have beaten the crap out of me when I was a kid… as if he didn’t try on numerous occasions.”
“That’s about it,” Remy admitted. The sadness of his face, and René’s, as well, told the whole story. Sylvie would bet that Remy and René hadn’t suffered nearly as much as Luc at their father’s hand because Luc—the big brother—had taken the blows for them.
It was Sylvie who squeezed Luc’s hand then. He gave her a questioning glance that was both surprised and oddly touched. He immediately masked his vulnerable expression with a scowl, but she had seen enough. More and more, Sylvie was discovering that Luc was not the man he pretended to be.