Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 01 - Dark Bayou by Nancy K. Duplechain Page B

with the drinks, and I turned to see if Carrie was behind me. She wasn’t. She had gone back in the house for something, probably more snacks to bring out. I was a little miffed at this.
     
    “Now, we got us some Bud, some Coor’s Light, some rum, Jack, Coke … oh, yeah. An’ we got us a couple a Coronas. Whatcha havin’, boo?” asked Billy Joe.
     
    “Corona’s fine.”
     
    He opened the bottle, salted the rim, and garnished with a lime slice. “A’right. Dere ya go, B.” he said and then handed it to me. He then hugged me again with one arm. “A! Like I said, it’s good to have ya back. I’m goin’ check on da crawfish. You enjoy yourself and come talk to me a lil’ lata, ‘k?”
     
    “Okay. Thanks, Billy Joe.” He tipped his ball cap with his free hand and headed over to the crawfish boilers. I was alone for a minute, lost in thought about when I was in school with Billy Joe. I remembered how he was the class clown and, once on a dare made by Carrie, he dropped his pants and showed us his wee wee. I giggled at this.
     
    “What you laughing at?”
     
    I turned around to see Lucas right behind me, grinning from ear to ear. God, he looked so good. For a second, I forgot what I was laughing at, but remembered. “Just Billy Joe,” I said.
     
    “Yeah. I remember when he went to our school. You remember the time he got sent home because he pulled down his pants in front of some girls?”
     
    I smiled and nodded.
     
    “So,” he continued, “how are you?”
     
    “I’m okay,” I said. And that was true now. “Where’s Jonathan?”
    “With the sitter. I wanted to bring him, but he said he wanted to stay with Miss Celia because she was watching Kalie, her little granddaughter. Jon likes playing with her.”
     
    “He’s a very sweet boy.”
     
    “Like his daddy,” he said coyly, sipping from his beer as he looked into my eyes. I felt myself blush slightly. At that moment, a new song started on the stereo. I recognized it as a Keith Frank song. Carrie and I used to dance a lot together at high school victory dances, festivals and wedding receptions we’d crash on the weekends when we had nothing better to do. We loved dancing to Keith Frank the most.
     
    The patio doors slid open, and Carrie stepped out with another tray of food, this one containing chips and salsa as well as cheese cubes. She set it down on one of the snack tables.
     
    “Carrie!” shouted one girl who was by the picnic table. “Go dance!”
     
    Carrie waved that idea away with her hand.
     
    “Come on, dancin’ queen! Show everyone how you earned those trophies!” shouted Billy Joe. Everyone started to cheer her on, encouraging her. Carrie really was a dancing queen. She had a shelf full of trophies from Cajun and Zydeco dance contests to prove it. I, on the other hand, barely had better than two left feet. She was always much better than I was on the floor. Most of the time I would just try to copy what she was doing. “Try” was a good way of putting it. I’m sure I looked very silly back then, but I hadn’t cared. We were too busy having fun, not to mention that we were usually pretty buzzed each time thanks to the lack of authority on underage drinking.
     
    “Okay, okay,” said Carrie. “But only if Leigh joins me!” She looked over at me and held out her hand.
     
    “What?” I asked, shaken out of my memories. Everyone started cheering me on. I had a deer-in-the-headlights look. I shook my head, no.
     
    “Yes!” insisted Carrie.
     
    “Go on,” Lucas whispered in my ear. His soft voice sent shivers through my body.
     
    “That’s okay,” I told Carrie. “I’ll just sit this one out. I’d rather watch.” Everyone cheered louder for me to dance.
     
    She stomped over to me and grabbed me by the arm. Lucas took the beer from my hand and Carrie pulled me towards the concrete patio where a circle of people was already forming, some of them dancing. “I haven’t danced with my best friend