"You're Ruby?"
"Stop it, Beau. You knew all the time. I know you did. I'm not the kind of girl Gisselle is making me out to be. You shouldn't have done that," I admonished. Chastised, he reddened and-fired back.
"You played along with the ruse, didn't you?"
"I know and I shouldn't have let her talk me into doing it, but I didn't think she would let it go this far."
Beau nodded, his body relaxing.
"That's my Gisselle . . . always plotting something outrageous. I should pretend to be fooled even more," he said. "It would teach her a lesson."
"What do you mean?" I looked off left and saw that Gisselle and Martin were out by the gazebo. Beau followed my gaze and we saw them kissing. His eyes narrowed and his chin tightened.
"Sometimes, she goes too far," he said, his voice now sounding angry. "Come on," he said, grabbing my hand and standing.
"Where?" I stood up.
"Into the cabana," he said. "It will teach her a lesson."
"But . . ."
"It's all right. We'll just talk. Let her think otherwise though. It will serve her right," he said and tugged me along. Then he opened the cabana door and pulled me into the small room, slamming the door behind us so Gisselle and Martin would be sure to hear it. There was a cot against the far wail but neither of us moved from the door. Without any light, it was hard to see anything after the door had been closed.
"This will get to her," Beau said. "We've been in here before and she knows why."
"This is going too far, Beau. She'll hate me," I said.
"She's not exactly being nice to you right now anyway," he replied.
Talking like this in the pitch darkness was both strange and easy, easy because without seeing him, without feeling his eyes on me, I could relax and say what I wanted. I thought that might be true for him, too.
"I'm sorry I got angry at you before," I said. "It really isn't any of your fault. I shouldn't have let her talk me into this."
"You were at a disadvantage. Gisselle loves to take advantage of people whenever she can. It doesn't surprise me. But from now on, don't be anyone but yourself. I haven't known you very long, Ruby, but I think you're a very nice girl who's been through some terrible things and has managed to keep her good nature. Don't let Gisselle ruin it," he warned. A moment later, I felt his hand on my cheek. His touch was soft, but I shuddered with surprise.
"Anyway, you kiss better," he whispered. My heart began to thump again. His hand was on my shoulder and then, I felt his breath on my face and sensed his lips moving closer and closer until they found mine. I didn't resist this time, and when his tongue touched mine, I let my own tongue run over the tip of his. He moaned and then, we heard pounding on the door and parted quickly.
"Beau Andreas, you get yourself out here this minute, you hear. This minute," Gisselle cried. Beau laughed.
"Who is it?" he called through the closed door.
"You know very well who I am," she cried. "Now get out here."
Beau opened the door and Gisselle stepped back. A confused Martin stood beside her. She had her arms folded and she wobbled a bit.
"What do you two think you're doing?" she demanded. "Ruby," he began, "your sister and I—"
"You know I'm not Ruby and she's not me. You know it, Beau Andreas."
"What?" he said, pretending shock and surprise. He looked at me and stepped back. "I could never have known. This is amazing."
"Just stop it, Beau. It was just a little joke. And you," she said, flicking her bloodshot eyes over me. "You played along real well for someone who said she was scared it wouldn't work."
"What is this?" Martin finally said. "Who's who?"
The three of us turned to him. Beau and Gisselle burst into laughter first and then, feeling lighthearted from the rum and Beau's kisses, I couldn't help but laugh myself.
Gisselle explained the prank to Martin and the four of us began again, this time Martin sitting next to me. Gisselle kept pouring the rum into the Cokes, drinking one almost as quickly as she made it. I drank only a little more, but my head was spinning anyway. Afterward, Gisselle pulled Beau into the cabana, gazing back at me with satisfaction as she closed the door behind them.
I sat back on the lounge, unable to clear my mind of Beau's warm touch and Beau's warm kiss. Was it the effect of the rum that filled me with such warmth?
Martin suddenly embraced me and kissed me and tried to go further, but I pushed him away firmly.
"Hey," he said, his eyes half closed, "what's wrong? I thought we were having fun."
"Despite what you might have heard or believed about girls who come from the bayou, Martin, I'm not like that. I'm sorry," I said.
The rum had definitely gotten to him and he mumbled some apology before falling back on the lounge. Moments later, he was asleep. I waited beside him, but we didn't have to wait long. Suddenly, Beau and Gisselle emerged from the cabana. She was crying about her stomach and heaving so hard, I thought she threw up her lunch as well as her supper. Martin woke up and he and I stood back and watched. She realized what was happening and sobbed with embarrassment.
"I'll take care of her," I told Beau. "You'd better leave."
"Thanks," he said. "This isn't the first time she's done this," he added, and whispered good night after he first whispered, "Yours was the kiss I'll remember tonight."
I was speechless for a moment, watching them walk off, and then Gisselle wailed.
"Oh, I'm going to die!"
"You won't die, but you'll sure wish you had if I remember the way Grandpère felt sometimes," I told her. She moaned again and heaved up some more.
"I've ruined this new blouse," she cried. "Oh, I feel horrible. My head is pounding."
"You'd better go to sleep, Gisselle," I said.
"I can't. I can't move."
"I'll help you into the house. Come on." I embraced her and started her forward.
"Don't let Mother catch us," she warned. "Wait," she said. "Take the bottle of rum in, too." I hated doing all these sneaky things, but I had no choice. With the bottle in the basket in one hand, I helped her up with the other and guided her back to the house, slipping as silently as we could through the door.
It was quiet within. We started up the stairs, Gisselle sniveling to herself. After we reached the landing and started toward her room, I thought I heard something else though. It sounded like someone weeping.
"What's that?" I asked in a whisper.
"What's what?"
"Someone's crying," I said.
"Just get me to my room and forget about it," she said. "Hurry."
We crossed to her door and I helped her in.
"You should take off your clothes and take a shower," I suggested, but she plopped down on her bed and refused to move.
"Leave me alone," she moaned. "Just leave me alone. Hide the bottle in your closet," were her last words.
I stood back and looked at her. She was a deadweight now. There wasn't anything I could do. I wasn't feeling all that well either and reprimanded myself for letting Gisselle talk me into so many rum and Cokes.
I left her lying facedown on her bed, fully dressed, even wearing her shoes, and started for my room. Once again, however, I heard sobbing. Curious, I crossed the hallway and listened. It was coming from a room down right. I walked softly over to the door and leaned my head against it. There was definitely someone within, crying. It sounded. . . like a man.
The click of footsteps on the stairway sent me scurrying back to my room. I went in quickly and immediately hid the basket with the rum in my closet. Then I went to the door and cracked it open enough to peer out. Daphne, dressed in a flowing blue silk robe, stepped so softly she seemed to glide down the hallway to the master bedroom. Just before she got there, however, she paused as though to listen for the sobbing herself. I saw her shake her head and then go into the bedroom. After she closed her door, I closed mine.
I thought about going out again and knocking on that door to see who was crying. Could it have been my father? Thinking it might have been, I went out and approached the door. I listened, but heard nothing this time. Even so, I knocked softly and waited.