wedding.”
“Now, now,” Tante Lulu said, “they’re still yer family. Remember, it was St. Jude who brought you two t’gether, and he’s all ’bout forgiveness.”
“Not gonna happen,” Matt insisted.
“Don’tcha be worryin’ none. I’m plannin’ on havin’ a little sit-down with yer mother on Sunday after Mass. A come-ta-Jesus talk, ya might say.”
Oh, shit!
“I invited her ta lunch at Big Butch’s Crab Shanty.”
Oh, shit!
“I’d like to be a fly on the wall at that meeting,” Savannah whispered to him, a mischievous grin teasing at her lips. “If anyone can straighten a person out, Tante Lulu can.”
Or drive them bat shit crazy. “Go for it!” he conceded, “but I’ll tell you up front, I won’t let them ruin a happy day. My dad’s not so bad, but my mother could make a scene.”
“Listen, boy, some folks have their minds mixed up and permanently set, like concrete. What we gotta do is chisel away.”
Good luck with that. My mother is chisel-proof. Matt rolled his eyes. “She would stand out like a sore thumb among all you good folks.”
Tante Lulu nodded. “Like pickles in a praline.”
“Good example,” Matt said. He’d love to see his mother’s face if Tante Lulu made that comparison to her face.
“I know how ta turn a pickle inta a pecan. Leave it all ta me.”
And they did, which was probably a big mistake, but Matt had other things on his mind.
“One more thing,” Tante Lulu said.
He couldn’t suppress his groan. Savannah choked back a laugh.
“Here.” Tante Lulu handed him a key.
He frowned with confusion. “You already gave me the car key.”
“This is another key.” Tante Lulu waggled her penciled-in eyebrows at him. “I got you two a room at the Hubba Hubba Ding Ding Motel. I coulda reserved you a room at the Marriott or Comfort Suites in Houma, but the Hubba is closer, only ’bout ten minutes away.”
Matt liked the idea of closer. A lot.
“Plus, they got vibrating beds at the Hubba, I hear. You know, the kind ya put in a quarter and it shakes ya up like a milkshake.”
No, Matt didn’t know, but he was game for anything if it involved him and Savannah, horizontal, naked, etc.
He grinned.
Savannah blushed.
Tee-John stepped up then and looped an arm over Tante Lulu’s little shoulders. “Auntie! You never rented me any motel rooms.”
“ Thass ’cause you was boinkin’ every girl up and down the bayou.”
“Boinkin’?” Tee-John laughed and put a hand over his heart. “I am wounded.”
“Yer gonna be wounded if Celine gets her hands on you. Where is she anyways?”
“In the house. Peeing. For about the tenth time since we got here. Plus, she’s feeling nauseous.”
“I got herbs fer that. Do you think she’d take ground-up gator testicles mixed with frog spit and a little Pepto fer color?”
“Ab-so-lute-ly!” Tee-John said with a straight face. “But let’s not tell her the ingredients . . . until later.”
On that note, Matt and Savannah escaped . . . uh, left the party. Matt couldn’t stop kissing Savannah as they walked around the side of the cottage leading to the detached one-car garage. He pressed her up against the side of the cottage and kissed her until his knees about gave way, and he had really strong knees. She kissed him while he attempted to raise the old fold-up wooden door on the garage, and he almost dropped the blasted thing on her toes.
They stopped kissing then as they gaped at their transport. A huge tank of a car, so big it almost touched the sides of the garage. It was a 1960s era lavender Chevy Impala convertible. There was a St. Jude wobble head on the dashboard and a bumper sticker that read, “Not so close. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“We should have known better when she told us her car had a name . . . Lillian,” Savannah said.
“You named your car Betty,” he pointed out.
“That’s different.”
It took some maneuvering to get the vehicle out of the
“Now, now,” Tante Lulu said, “they’re still yer family. Remember, it was St. Jude who brought you two t’gether, and he’s all ’bout forgiveness.”
“Not gonna happen,” Matt insisted.
“Don’tcha be worryin’ none. I’m plannin’ on havin’ a little sit-down with yer mother on Sunday after Mass. A come-ta-Jesus talk, ya might say.”
Oh, shit!
“I invited her ta lunch at Big Butch’s Crab Shanty.”
Oh, shit!
“I’d like to be a fly on the wall at that meeting,” Savannah whispered to him, a mischievous grin teasing at her lips. “If anyone can straighten a person out, Tante Lulu can.”
Or drive them bat shit crazy. “Go for it!” he conceded, “but I’ll tell you up front, I won’t let them ruin a happy day. My dad’s not so bad, but my mother could make a scene.”
“Listen, boy, some folks have their minds mixed up and permanently set, like concrete. What we gotta do is chisel away.”
Good luck with that. My mother is chisel-proof. Matt rolled his eyes. “She would stand out like a sore thumb among all you good folks.”
Tante Lulu nodded. “Like pickles in a praline.”
“Good example,” Matt said. He’d love to see his mother’s face if Tante Lulu made that comparison to her face.
“I know how ta turn a pickle inta a pecan. Leave it all ta me.”
And they did, which was probably a big mistake, but Matt had other things on his mind.
“One more thing,” Tante Lulu said.
He couldn’t suppress his groan. Savannah choked back a laugh.
“Here.” Tante Lulu handed him a key.
He frowned with confusion. “You already gave me the car key.”
“This is another key.” Tante Lulu waggled her penciled-in eyebrows at him. “I got you two a room at the Hubba Hubba Ding Ding Motel. I coulda reserved you a room at the Marriott or Comfort Suites in Houma, but the Hubba is closer, only ’bout ten minutes away.”
Matt liked the idea of closer. A lot.
“Plus, they got vibrating beds at the Hubba, I hear. You know, the kind ya put in a quarter and it shakes ya up like a milkshake.”
No, Matt didn’t know, but he was game for anything if it involved him and Savannah, horizontal, naked, etc.
He grinned.
Savannah blushed.
Tee-John stepped up then and looped an arm over Tante Lulu’s little shoulders. “Auntie! You never rented me any motel rooms.”
“ Thass ’cause you was boinkin’ every girl up and down the bayou.”
“Boinkin’?” Tee-John laughed and put a hand over his heart. “I am wounded.”
“Yer gonna be wounded if Celine gets her hands on you. Where is she anyways?”
“In the house. Peeing. For about the tenth time since we got here. Plus, she’s feeling nauseous.”
“I got herbs fer that. Do you think she’d take ground-up gator testicles mixed with frog spit and a little Pepto fer color?”
“Ab-so-lute-ly!” Tee-John said with a straight face. “But let’s not tell her the ingredients . . . until later.”
On that note, Matt and Savannah escaped . . . uh, left the party. Matt couldn’t stop kissing Savannah as they walked around the side of the cottage leading to the detached one-car garage. He pressed her up against the side of the cottage and kissed her until his knees about gave way, and he had really strong knees. She kissed him while he attempted to raise the old fold-up wooden door on the garage, and he almost dropped the blasted thing on her toes.
They stopped kissing then as they gaped at their transport. A huge tank of a car, so big it almost touched the sides of the garage. It was a 1960s era lavender Chevy Impala convertible. There was a St. Jude wobble head on the dashboard and a bumper sticker that read, “Not so close. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“We should have known better when she told us her car had a name . . . Lillian,” Savannah said.
“You named your car Betty,” he pointed out.
“That’s different.”
It took some maneuvering to get the vehicle out of the
Similar Books
