Plaquemines Parish

By: Pee Jay
(© 2008 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Authors Note:

This chapter touches lightly on the practice of Voodoo in New Orleans. Voodoo is regarded as an accepted religion these days. While I’m not a believer or practitioner, it’s certainly not unheard of. In fact, it’s flourishing; just ask Shirley MacLaine, lol. Seriously, though, it has become a significant draw for tourists, curiosity seekers and practitioners alike. Following is a brief explanation of some common terms, beliefs, and practices for Santeria, aka Voodou or Voodoo, used in the story.

Bondye or Bon Dieu - the supreme being, God. Voodoo is monotheistic. In Creole Bondye means good God; in French Bon Dieu means good God.

Loa or Lwa - are spirits that may be dead relatives or recognized spirits in Voodoo. They mount (think possess) individuals during ceremonies. They are similar to saints in that they intercede on behalf of the believer to Bondye. Mortals are not able to interact directly with him. The saints that the Catholicized French recognized influenced the concept. This lent an air of acceptability to the French who occupied Haiti for a significant part of her history.

Dumballah - The father figure. He is the good snake, a Lwa. The source of peace and tranquility. The egg is offered to him when he comes to mount a person. He is much loved and sought after. His wife Aida-wedo attends him.

St. John’s Eve - For Voodooists, St. John's Eve (June 23) is the most important night of the year. This is also known as the feast of St. John Baptiste in France. Outside of France and Haiti, it’s only recognized in Quebec and Ireland. Eyewitness accounts of St. John's Eve ceremonies on the lakefront include lurid tales of half-naked cultists whirling in fantastic dances around a huge bonfire and a boiling cauldron into which they toss live chickens, snails, frogs, black cats and the ever-present snakes for the purpose of ingesting the concoction. Congo drums are beat with the leg bones of buzzards while the crowd chants "Li grand Zombi" as the reigning Voodoo mambo dances with a snake. It was said that the Voodoos drank the blood of black cats, ripped live chickens apart, and ate them and that sometimes in the throes of a frenzied dance they clawed, bit, and drew blood from one another. The majority of Voodooists in the early years were Creole (Haitians with mixed blood). There are many stories of whites -- particularly young women -- who participated in them.

Marie Leveau - The name of Marie Laveau is legendary in New Orleans. She was a tall, handsome, mean-eyed woman who, it is said, was the illegitimate daughter of a wealthy white planter and a mulatto. The reddish cast of her skin indicated Indian blood as well. In 1819, at the time of her marriage in St. Louis Cathedral to Jacques Paris, a native of Santo Domingo (St. Dominique), she was a devout French Catholic. Paris mysteriously vanished shortly after the marriage, and she began calling herself the Widow Paris. She worked as a hairdresser, listening to gossip and secrets while she arranged the tresses of aristocratic white ladies. A few years after Paris vanished; she became the mistress of a quadroon named Louis Christophe Duminy de Glapion, with whom she had fifteen children. They lived in a cottage on St. Ann Street between North Rampart and Burgundy Streets in the French Quarter. The disappearance of her husband and her migration to Voodoo may or may not have been connected. In any case, by 1830 Marie was a force to be reckoned with. It’s said, she eliminated other priestesses or mambos via the use of powerful gris-gris, literally "Hoodooing" them to death. Hoodoo is the practice of invoking spirits through the use of black magic. A Voodoo priestess can only become a queen after her death.

In Voodoo it is believed the soul is comprised of two parts, the ti-bon-ange (translated from French means ‘little good angel’) and the gros-bon-ange (from French means ‘great good angel’). It is believed that after death the ti-bon-ange must be appeased, via a sacrifice, in order to be given a peaceful rest. Only if the ti-bon-ange is given a peaceful rest will the gros-bon-ange be permitted to return to the cosmos. The importance being that the gros-bon-ange will intercede with Bondye on behalf of the relative or believer but is most beneficial to a relative.

Creole - Louisianans who identify themselves as "Creole" are most commonly from historically Francophone communities with some ancestors who came to Louisiana either directly from France or via the French colonies in the Caribbean-primarily St. Dominique (present day Haiti). Those descended from the Acadians of French Canada usually identify themselves as Cajuns, rather than Creoles. The term is, at times, used to mean simply "pertaining to New Orleans", not an accurate use of the word. Louisiana's Creole People (Creoles of Color) are of mixed (mainly French, Spanish, African-American, and Native American) heritage.

Devil Baby -There’s a tale noir of the Devil Baby’s birth, and his rantings in New Orleans. The tale is much to lengthy to describe here. Suffice it for now to say, many believe he exists and tales of his haunting around St. Louis Cathedral in the Quarter abound. Here is an interesting link to a more comprehensive narrative regarding Devil Baby. http://thedemoniacal.blogspot.com/2009/06/devil-baby-of-new-orleans.html

These definitions and explanations are, for the most part, accurate. As with any religion, the theological debates never end. Some of the true beliefs and practices of Voodoo are, herein bastardized for the sake of the story. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading. – Pee Jay 

Chapter 8

The announcement to remodel the restaurant was made a week ago meaning mandatory time off for me. I really didn’t want to be idle; I wanted the money. Things like carpeting, wall covering, paint and light fixtures were slated to be changed as well as the furniture. The project was scheduled to proceed in two phases. The dining room to the right of the entrance was first to undergo the upgrade as the dining room to the left continued doing business. Then there would be a switch while the other dining room got the same treatment. I was working in the right-side dining room with Rob so I had two weeks off while the contractor completed the first phase.

Friday was my last day for two weeks. Saturday morning I awoke at my usual time and went downstairs to make coffee. As was typical for weekend mornings, Mike and Steve were in the spa. I started the coffee then looked out the window to make sure they weren’t intertwined before I joined them.

“What are you guys doing today? Anything special?” I asked as I placed a lawn chair and sat down.

“We’re going to be gone later this afternoon,” Steve said. “Some friends are having a barbeque and pool party.”

“Oh, cool. Can I go?” I really didn’t want to but I thought I would watch Steve squirm.

He was quiet for a moment before he began, “And why, pray tell, would you want to go?”

I smiled, “I really don’t. I just wanted to see what you’d say.”

Mike decided to speak up, “What are you up to?”

“Is it okay if I go to the Quarter to pick up the Mardi Gras poster? The store left a message saying it’s ready.”

Mike hesitated then said, “Is that the only reason you want to go there?”

“Yeah, Mike, I swear,” and that really was the truth. “Or maybe you guys can pick it up on your way if you don’t mind.”

Steve spoke up, “Mike, I say let him pick it up. That’s harmless enough. I don’t want to go there; it’s a pain in the neck getting around with a car. Besides, if we ride with Jerry and Mark; it would be rude to ask them to go out of their way.”

“Okay”, Mike acquiesced. “Get the poster then get your butt out of there. No diversions or funny business, understood?”

“Yeah, like what would I do there anyway? Bill gave us a good tour so there’s really nothing further to see or do.”

“I didn’t ask for your thoughts. I said to get the poster and get out of there. Is that clear?”

“Yeah, it’s clear Mike,” I rose to go in the house for a coffee. As I turned to go, I mumbled something about Warden Harris needing to get laid.

“What was that, little man?” Mike asked loudly.

I turned around afraid that he overheard. “Nothing Mike. I was talking to myself.”

I looked at Steve who was grinning big time. Apparently, he heard my comment. I couldn’t suppress a smile so I turned around to hide it. As I walked toward the house, I overheard Mike say something about a little shit, making me chuckle.

I placed my coffee on the countertop in the bathroom. Before I hopped in the shower, I called Dave to make sure he was coming over. Then I made the beds and straightened up. I had the idea to wait for Dave with Mike and Steve.

I brought them a coffee placing them on the edge of the spa. I sat down again in the lawn chair. “If Mark and Jerry need help in the next couple weeks, I’m available.” Then another thought popped into mind. ‘So are Dave and Greg.’

“We’ll let them know,” Steve said. “What can you do?”

“Anything. I can wash dishes or wait tables if one of them wants time off. I can clean too. It doesn’t matter to me. I can’t cook though.”

Dave came around the side of the house greeting everyone with a cheerful, “Good morning” as he approached. Then he bent over and put his lips over mine in a sloppy kiss making me smile into his mouth.

He said Greg had to cut the lawn before he could leave so we decided to hang out until he came over. Dave wanted to sit in the spa for a while so we went to my room to get bathing suits.

Dave closed the door as he followed me into the bedroom.

“We’re supposed to keep the door open. I’m gonna get in trouble if Steve or Mike comes up here.”

I went to the door to open it. As I placed my hand on the doorknob, Dave leaned against it with the palm of his hand, standing behind me.

“Don’t you want to mess around?”

“Of course, dude! We can leave it open halfway and still hear someone coming. The first two steps creak loud enough to let you know.”

So I opened the door then pulled my shirt off on the way to the dresser. I opened the top-drawer when, seconds later, Dave poked his boner between my thighs, then started pumping.

“Dave,” I pleaded. “You didn’t give me a chance to get in the mood.”

“Get with it, dude,” he said as he bent over pulling my shorts and underwear down at the same time.

He started pushing me toward the bed and I nearly tripped stepping out of my shorts. He forced me face down on the mattress then climbed on top. I would have been hard as steel given the chance.

He rubbed his hard-on up and down in my crack panting in my ear. If it weren’t for the fact that I cared for him deeply, I probably would have punched him. As it was, I lay there letting him fulfill his fantasy, because that’s what it was. No way was he going to screw me if this is what he had in mind.

“Um, are you done yet?” I said sarcastically on the verge of elbowing him in the face.

I felt his dick swell in my crack as he came to a halt releasing his load on the small of my back with a moan that, I’m sure, was heard outside. He was panting as if he just finished a marathon, lowering himself on me.

“Get off me, god damn it,” I said twisting onto my side. He slid off as I rolled to the side of the bed swinging my feet over the edge. I was disgusted and a little hurt. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

He scooted next to me looking like I was speaking a foreign language. He was handsome as hell but I wasn’t going to let him know that, at least not at that point. I raised my eyebrows as if to say, ‘well’.

His demeanor began to sag as the levity of his deeds came into focus. He put his arm around me whispering in my ear, “I’m sorry but you’re so sexy I can’t help myself.” Then he kissed my neck.

‘Well, shit!’ was all I could think. How could I not forgive him after that? The handsome devil surely knew how to work me and I had to be honest; I guess I liked it in spite of my initial reaction. I pushed him gently back on the bed and lay half on him,

“I guess it took me by surprise. I didn’t have time to enjoy it.” Then I kissed his head snuggling close.

We held each other for a few moments then Dave said, “C’mon let’s hit the spa for a while before Greg gets here.”

I took two suits from the dresser and tossed one his way.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll meet you out there. I have to take a leak first,” … ‘and clean myself up,’ I thought silently.

As I approached them, Dave was sitting on the edge dangling his legs in the water as he talked with Mike and Steve. They were sitting on the edge too, apparently taking a break, so I did the same. As I listened to them talk, I eyed Dave’s crotch, noticing the path of dark hair leading south from his navel. I wanted to feel it in the worst way. Then I imagined stroking his chest and the soft fine hair on his pecs. I was starting to harden, so I lowered myself into the spa so no one could see.

Greg arrived a half-hour later so I took him up to Mike and Steve’s room. Steve said he could borrow one of his bathing suits since they were about the same size. I told him to change in my room then left for the spa pulling the door closed. Mike and Steve went in the house to clean up for the party leaving the three of us alone.

“Hey, you guys,” I said. “I have to pick up that poster I bought in the Quarter. Mike and Steve said I could get it myself if that’s all I did. Ya wanna go?”

“I’m not supposed to go there and neither is Dave,” Greg said slowly. “But if we pick it up and leave right away; I don’t see the harm. Whaddya say, Dave?”

“I guess it’d be okay. I mean who’s gonna know? If we get out of there quick, it shouldn’t be a problem. We gonna ride bikes?”

“No,” I said before Greg could respond. “The poster is too big to carry on a bike. We can take the streetcar.”

We all agreed to spend some time in the spa then have lunch before we left. A while later, Dave slid his hand under the waistband of my suit. As much as I welcomed it, I wasn’t comfortable messing around in front of Greg so I said, “Let’s make a sandwich and get going.”

They agreed so I waited for them to go first in an effort to hide my erection. They walked toward the house while I headed for the pump house to turn the spa off. I rearranged myself and joined them inside.

“If you guys want to wash the chlorine off, feel free to use my bathroom. Use the towel that’s in there. Take the sponge under the sink and wipe the tiles off before you get out of the shower.”

“Shit, that’s worse than home,” Greg objected.

“Yeah, well you’d understand if you had to do the cleaning. Those are the conditions, take ‘em or leave ‘em,” I said, then realized how much I sounded like Mike.

“Better listen to the cleaning lady,” Dave said smiling.

I stuck my tongue out at him, then held my three middle fingers up telling him to read between the lines.

Greg laughed pointing at Dave, “Better listen if ya want some later on,” he teased.

I rather liked that. Greg was becoming more comfortable with the gay thing, seemingly.

We rode the St. Charles line to the end, crossing Canal Street on foot into the Quarter. The streets were clogged with tourists while jazz music echoed off the buildings. The smell of hot dogs, cotton candy and fast food hung in the hot humid air making me wonder why the tourists weren’t at the beach. People walked about with plastic cups of beer and assorted mixed drinks. The mood was light and festive.

As we made our way up Bourbon Street, Greg spotted a store he wanted to check out so we followed him inside. The door bumped against a bell that clanged reminding me of a cowbell. Not that I knew what one sounded like but that’s what the clanging brought to mind.

As soon as we stepped inside it became evident we were in a sex shop. There were scores of phallic devices displayed in cases in a myriad of sizes. I looked at some of the posters on the wall advertising videos. Some had pictures of guys screwing while others depicted guys in chains, tied up receiving various forms of discipline. It was bizarre but that’s exactly what they portrayed.

Racks of leather clothing were scattered randomly about the front of the store while the rear held shelves of videos and published material. Greg was holding up a pair of leather pants with the crotch missing staring intently at them. I heard a door slam at the rear of the store. When I looked, there were two guys coming out of what appeared to be a small closet. That was strange but not hard to figure out.

I was beginning to feel uneasy when Dave walked over to me holding a plastic bottle. It looked like a bottle of shampoo.

He said, “Buy this, Val”.

“What is it?” I took the bottle to have a look.

It was a bottle of lubricant according to the label. I looked at Dave who was wearing a huge grin. I rolled my eyes and said, “I can’t buy this. What if Mike and Steve find it?”

“It’s not like they don’t know what it’s used for,” he said sarcastically.

I examined the bottle again then looked up. “I’m too embarrassed. I’ll give you the money and you buy it, okay?”

The clerk came out from behind the counter walking in our direction. He was wearing a snuggly fitting muscle shirt with tight leather pants. He had a goatee with a baldhead and metal studs piercing his ears. His body displayed tattoos all over the place. He was older, much older than Mike and Steve.

He approached us saying, “What are you gentlemen doing here?”

We looked up at him. I didn’t know what to say standing there dumbfounded. Eventually Dave said, “What do you mean?”

The clerk took the bottle away from me saying, “You boys are too young to be in here. I hope to see you in a few years now get out of here before I lose my business license. Beat it.”

Dave and I turned to go then realized Greg had disappeared.

“Where’s Greg?” I asked aloud. “He was just here.”

“I’ll get him,” Dave said. “He walked toward the shelving in the back.”

I headed for the front door and waited inside. The air conditioning felt good versus the heat and humidity outside.

Greg followed Dave out of the magazine section shifting my imagination into gear.

As we made our way to the far end of the Vieux Carré, Greg was quiet. I wondered silently what he was thinking. He was obviously enamored with the contents of the store. Whatever it was, it was his issue until he elected to make it known.

We were a couple blocks off Esplanade when Dave spotted the gallery. “There’s the store,” he said, pointing so we crossed the street and went inside.

I produced my receipt for the clerk and browsed as we waited. A short time later and we were on our way.

Out on the street, Dave noticed a store across the way. “Let’s go in that place over there,” he said pointing to a small shop.

A sign hung above the door suspended from the balcony over the sidewalk. It read “Mother Wattles’ Voodoo Shop”. I must admit the place had an allure, a certain intrigue so we all agreed and crossed the street.

Greg said, “Wow, I can’t believe there’s actually a store for that,” as he quickened his pace. His interest was noticeably piqued.

The door was propped open with an old fireplace anvil so we proceeded inside. There was an eerie quality about the place. It was dark and dimly lit with candles; the only natural light spilled in through the open doorway. I guessed the pungent smell was a result of the herbs hanging upside down from the exposed ceiling of hand-hewn beams and boards. There were open crocks, of God only knows what, scattered around the wood floor with scoops partially buried in them. A stack of shelves, arrayed evenly from floor to ceiling segmented an exposed brick wall holding various and sundry effigies. Some were made of carved wood while a few were doll-like with painted faces, clad in swaddling garments. Some were saintly, while others suggested imps, sprites, animals and even a devil-like doll labeled “Devil Baby”. It was creepy.

I caught Dave’s eye as he moved about taking in the bewitching, beguiling nature of the room. He pointed to the wooden shelves with an oversize glass jar of chicken’s feet in clear liquid. Next to it was another jar of what appeared to be ashes labeled “ju-ju dust”. There was another one with a dead snake suspended in clear liquid. The place was blood curdling and seductive in a cryptic sort of way.

Greg inspected the dead snake with trepidation when a Creole woman behind the counter said,

“Dat be DUMBALLAH, dah snake speerit,” she crowed.

Greg looked at her in disbelief or fear; I’m not sure which. The look on his face was definitely one of consternation.

The mulatto woman, her skin a soft brown, stood behind the counter along the sidewall. Her hair was dark and surly, while her body was full and round. She was braless. Her deflated breasts sagged, resting on her protruding belly. She wore a brilliantly colored summer dress with thin shoulder straps exposing her chubby arms, neck and shoulders.

I was smitten with her presence. I walked toward the counter wondering who and what she was. I paused in front of her saying, “Hello, my name is Val,” offering her my hand.

She wasn’t interested in shaking. She looked at me straight away and said, “Mutha Wattles know who you bee. You come home to N’Awlins. Deese a good ting.” She spoke with a Creole French accent. She looked skyward stretching her arms up as if beseeching a deity; “I know deese boi, Bon Dieu” she declaimed loudly then turned her gaze on me.

It was spooky to the max. Or maybe she was a nut case; who knew? Either way, she gave me the willies with her screwy invocation of Bon Dieu or whoever the sam hell she was talking to.

“Who are you?” I asked then thought silently, ‘and what are you’?

“I be Mutha Wattles, Mambo Princess of N’Awlins,” she said with a lilt in her voice. “Deese be you friends?”

I looked at Dave and Greg across the room then back at Mother Wattles; “Yeah, these are my friends,” I confirmed nervously.

There was a portrait of a woman on the wall behind the counter so I asked her, “Who’s that in the picture?” I pointed to the portrait of a Creole woman with a turban wrapped around her head.

She didn’t turn around to look saying, “Marie Leveau, most famous and powerful Voodoo Queen of all. She dade but her magique leeve on.”

Things were getting a little too surreal so I decided to browse the store. As I strolled through the shop, I noticed an unusual looking necklace on display and picked it up. It had a double loop of brown leather cord intertwined and held together with three sets of beads spaced evenly. There was a trinket suspended from the leather bands depicting a squatting monkey next to a chicken that shone with the rich luster of gold.

I was overcome with curiosity so I turned it over inspecting it on all sides.

Mother Wattles was standing behind me and said, “You like? Dat be dah most powerful charm in Voodoo. It breeng wearer good luck. Dah Sacred Monkey and Cock give tree wish in tree years if you wear.”

I flinched at the sound of her voice behind me. I wasn’t expecting it. I was already spooked by her monologue with the ceiling. I turned around to see Mother Wattles standing there smiling.

“How much does it cost?” I asked.

“Dah gold one like dat bring tree wish right away. No have to wate tree year.”

I thought she was building me up for the price but she was serious. ‘A serious con artist,’ I chuckled to myself as I waited for the price.

Dave heard the conversation and approached saying, “It’s cool. Are you going to buy it?”

“I don’t know. Mother Wattles just gave me the sales pitch. Now I’m waiting for the bad news.”

She had a mischievous look on her face, “I make good price for you. You come to St. John’s Eve next week and you can have for tirty dollah.”

I didn’t know what the hell St. John’s Eve was. It did, however, have a saint’s name so it couldn’t be all that bad. I agreed saying, “Sold,” then handed the necklace to her.

She made a ‘follow me’ motion with her arm heading for the counter.

Dave had an excited look on his face so I asked him, “You want one too?”

“Naw,” he said but I could tell he really did.

At the counter, I asked Mother Wattles, “Do you have another one?”

She looked at Dave then back at me with a smile. I thought she probably figured things out for herself which didn’t bother me. If she had the nerve to say something, she could kiss the sale goodbye.

She disappeared into the backroom through a doorway under the portrait of Marie Leveau. When she re-appeared, she was holding a replica of the one I had except the leather was dyed black instead of brown.

“Deese one luke good on ‘im,” she stated decisively holding it alongside Dave’s face.

I had to agree smiling. It went with his hair color much better than brown. I had to repress a strong urge to kiss my handsome boyfriend.

I handed her the money from my wallet and noticed a picture I carried of my deceased father while she made change. It was odd to think of him now of all times and places. It seemed like years since he passed away and I hadn’t missed him. It made me feel guilty.

As I studied my father’s picture, she put Dave’s necklace over his head then did the same to me.

“Ouch,” I said as she pulled my hair trying to get the necklace over my head.

“Who dat be?” Mother Wattles asked looking at my dad’s picture.

I looked at her then down at the picture again, “That’s my father. He died last year.”

“Dade relatif ease mose importan. When he die?”

I had to think for a minute before responding, “He die,” I paused. Now she had me talking like her, for Christ sake. “I mean, he died June thirtieth last year just before his thirty-seventh birthday.”

“Den you muss do sacred ritual one year and one day after he die. He be important lwa for you. You make sacrifice to ti-bon-ange so gros-bon-ange enter speerit worl and cosmo for you. If you not free his soul, you be sorry. You muss free dah speerit!” she said on an uphill note as if preaching from a pulpit.

“What is tee-bone-ang?” I asked her. I repeated her words phonetically not knowing what the heck she was talking about.

“Ti-bon-ange and gros-bon-ange be dah two half of da soul. You must appease ti-bon-ange with sacrifice one year and one day afta death so gros-bon-ange be free to enter cosmos. Dis be very impotan. You must put ti-bon-ange to rest. You fadda be impotan lwa for you.”

Dave was grinning like hell while Greg was standing there mesmerized by her every word. Between the two of them, I couldn’t resist a grin. Yet, this old Creole Mambo was putting the fear of God or Bondye or Bon Dieu or whatever the hell her idol’s name was in me.

I thought I would change the subject. “So, what’s so special about St. John’s Eve?” I redirected my eyes to her.

She waved her arm in an all-inclusive fashion, “Dat most impotan day of all! Dah nite of June,” she paused briefly. “How to say, aaah, tenty no, aaah twentee-tird. Yah, dah nite of June twentee-tird. Das eet. St. John’s Eve come before dah longeest day, dah Solstice.”

Greg was so rapt; he appeared to be on the verge of converting unable to contain himself, “Where is the service held, in St. Louis Cathedral?” he asked with anticipation.

“Mai no, deer bouy. Many year ago, it held in St. John’s Bayou by Queen Marie Leveau. Deese days it held in St. Tammany Pareesh, east of Mandeville in Fountainebleau Park.”

“Oh,” was all Greg said, studying Mother Wattles’ face.

Dave shifted his weight stepping backward and said, “We should be going.”

We all agreed and I was glad he said it. I, for one, had enough of this weird shit for a while. We said goodbye as we started for the door.

“Do not forget St. John’s Eve. You make Muddah Wattles promise.”

I turned around to see her looking at me. Shit, she wasn’t kidding. What did I get myself into and how can I get out of it? Damn.

“He’ll be there,” Greg responded on my behalf.

As we walked away from the shop, I said to Greg, “Why did you say that? I don’t know if I can go. I don’t know if I even want to!”

“Dude, ya gotta go. You promised her. She might put a hex on you if you don’t.” He couldn’t resist a laugh then he became somber. “You don’t mess around with those folks. They take their craft seriously.”

“You mean witchcraft!” I said light heartedly with a chuckle.

“I mean it, Val. I don’t know if you noticed those dolls on the shelf in the store. Did you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted tentatively as I recalled the Devil Baby doll.

He turned around, walking backwards. “I’m telling you, dude. One of those dolls could be you!” He was gesticulating with his arms as he spoke. “All she needs is a piece of your clothing or hair or something personal of yours to put a hex on you. Then you’re royally fucked man,” he emphasized fucked. “You may as well kill yourself ‘cause your life will suck the big one from then on. You might even go to hell when you die!”

Now he was scaring me. It wasn’t funny anymore. She pulled my hair in the store too! For all I knew, she had some.

“Fuck me!” I said, looking at the pavement and rubbing my head. “She pulled my hair in the store, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if that fat ass old broad pulled some out.”

“Okay,” Dave said with a lilt. “Whatever you want.” Then he grinned big time.

I nudged him into a post supporting a balcony as we walked, causing him to fall behind. He scurried to catch up with us saying, “What are you gonna do, Val?”

“He’s going to the St. John’s Eve ceremony and we’re going with him,” Greg said, seizing the moment.

We walked quietly through the Quarter in the direction of the streetcar line. As we walked, I couldn’t help but wonder if the old mambo, or whatever the hell she was, had some of my hair. Sure, it was innocent enough … the way she did it. But was it legal to take something like that with ill-intent? I definitely couldn’t ask Mike. If I told him I was in that store he would come unglued. It was anyone’s guess the way he might react. And what reason could I give for attending the ceremony? Geez, this was getting complicated.

Then there was the possibility of a hex. What kind of hex would it be? Could she actually do something like that? Make me into a chicken or a cripple or who knows what, maybe one of those fucking dolls like Greg said. God, why did Dave have to go in that damn store in the first place? I tried to discharge the thought.

“Do you guys wanna come over for a swim?” Greg asked.

Dave and I quickly accepted the invitation. I didn’t know Greg had a swimming pool and the revelation didn’t really matter. The temperature had to be pushing one hundred Fahrenheit, and it was humid as hell. It sounded like a great idea.

I met them at Greg’s house after dropping off the poster, picking up a bathing suit, and leaving a note for Steve and Mike. It was a little awkward approaching Greg’s house for the first time since I had only been as close as the driveway. His mother answered the door so I introduced myself. Then she introduced herself as Mrs. LaBelle. We exchanged pleasantries and then she invited me in. She escorted me through the house, which was nicely appointed, to the back door, telling me there was a cabana in the backyard where I could change.

Dave splashed me as I walked by so I stuck my tongue out at him, the shit.

“I’ll get even. Give me a minute and you’re dead meat. Road-kill is gonna look great compared to you,” I yelled at him.

“Whoa … I’m scared now,” he said sarcastically.

After changing, I cracked the door to see which end of the pool he was at. He was facing away from me near the far end so I eased the door closed behind me, and quietly walked to the edge of the pool. I dove in his direction. Underneath him, I pulled his bathing suit down to his ankles and squeezed his balls, not too hard but hard enough, I hoped, to cause a little pain, then I had to surface for air.

I no sooner inhaled deeply than he put his hands on my shoulders forcing me under. I squirmed as much as I could, finally breaking his hold. I gasped for air as I broke the surface, panting like crazy, and laughing at the same time.

Greg was watching with a grin. “Is that how fags play in the water?” he asked, teasing.

“Let’s get him,” Dave said as he shoved off from the side of the pool.

I followed him. Dave went for his upper body, wrapping his arms around his torso forcing him under with his weight. I pulled him by the legs. He turned and twisted, trying to free himself, but it wasn’t working. As big and strong as he was two against one was too much for him. Eventually, we let him go so we all could surface for air.

We rested on the pool’s edge, the three of us gasping, coughing, and laughing. I shoved off the edge with my feet, floating on my back, kicking gently to stay afloat. The water was clear and refreshing on such a hot day. At the opposite end of the pool, I hauled myself out and retrieved my sunglasses from the cabana. I reclined on a chaise lounge with my hands behind my head. I drew my feet up under my knees and closed my eyes.

Dave and Greg horsed around in the pool for a while. There was no diving board so they dove from the edge doing cannonballs and jack-knives, trying to splash me. It didn’t work, and that made me smirk, prompting them to try harder.

Eventually they tired and claimed a chaise on either side of me. I watched Dave’s muscles flex as he lowered himself, reclining on his back. I wanted to take his bathing suit off and play with his equipment. I was safe in staring with my sunglasses on. I imagined his penis hard and upright between his legs with the dark hair at the base. I wondered what it would feel like in my rear end. It was an erotic image, causing me to harden up. I rolled over on my stomach and lowered the backrest noticing Greg’s crotch as I did. He was half-hard, making me wonder what the source of his stimulation was.

As I lay face down, I tried to picture Dave on top of me with his hardness buried inside. I guessed it probably felt good since so many gay guys do it. But how exactly does it feel? The few times I saw videos on the net, some of them appeared to be in pain yet they kept it up. Maybe it was because of the money. Maybe if they didn’t go through with it they wouldn’t get paid. Then there were the ones that seemed to like it and want more. I decided I would have to find out for myself. That’s the only way I would know for sure.

That night I had a nightmare about the St. John’s Eve ceremony and woke Mike and Steve before I snapped out of it. I had been shouting at the top of my lungs and kicking until I woke myself. I slowly opened my eyes. It took a few moments before I realized where I was and what was happening.

In the nightmare, I was at the St. John’s Eve ceremony. I saw a bonfire with people dancing around it. They drank from a steaming cauldron of liquid that Mother Wattles prepared with some goods she sold in her store. A white woman was dancing while a black woman was making strange gyrations. The top of her dress was hanging from her waist exposing her milk-chocolate breasts as the sweat beaded and ran down her body. Mother Wattles was chanting at an altar. I saw myself in the center of the action naked and tied to a tree awaiting my initiation. That’s what caused me to wake up.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked as I blinked a few times trying to clear my head.

They were sitting on opposite sides of the bed both of them looking concerned.

After I had my wits about me I said, “Yeah, it was a bad dream.”

“You’re soaking wet,” Mike said, wiping my forehead with the sheet. “Are you gonna be able to go back to sleep?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. You guys can go back to bed. Sorry to wake you,” I apologized, hoping that would be enough of an explanation.

Mike sat there staring at me. I didn’t know what he was hoping to learn because the action was over. He finally satisfied himself and returned with Steve to their room. I decided to get up and take a whiz before I tried to go back to sleep.

The next morning, I was the last to rise. As I made my way to the kitchen, I silently cursed Mother Wattles for messing with my head. In spite of her, I managed to get a good night’s sleep and felt rested. I didn’t want to think about that crap anymore. Aside from bordering on the occult—or maybe, the ridiculous—it was a little scary, too.

I poured a coffee and sat at the table with Steve, who was reading the morning paper.

“Mornin’, Sport,” he said with a smile. “You doin’ okay?”

“Mornin’, Steve. I’m good; how ‘bout you?”

“Same ole, same ole,” he said, looking back at the paper.

I could hear Mike on the stairs as he descended. A few seconds later, he rounded the corner into the kitchen. He was dressed and looking darn good. I guessed he was going to court today. He looked handsome and sexy in his suit and tie with his dark hair neatly groomed. It looked like he put gel in it, making me smile.

“Mornin’, Sport,” he said on his way for a refill.

“Mornin’, Mike.”

He stopped dead in his tracks about a step past me then backed up. He took the Sacred Monkey and Cock charm between his fingers. It was easy enough to spot; I was shirtless.

“Where did you get this?” he wanted to know.

I realized a while ago that honesty was the best policy where Mike was concerned so I said, “I bought it yesterday.” And that wasn’t a lie.

“I didn’t ask when you bought it; I asked where you bought it.”

‘Aw, shit,’ I thought silently; ‘here it comes.’ I exhaled looking at Steve, who was grinning. He sure likes to see me in the hot seat.

“I bought it at a store across the street from the frame shop” still no lies there.

“Are you lying?”

“No, I’m truthin,” I said with a smile, proud of my response. I thought it was a good example of thinking fast on one’s feet and I still hadn’t lied.

He released the charm in favor of a coffee refill. I breathed a sigh of relief, happy to be off the hook. Steve shot me a quick glance then went back to the paper with a smirk.

“What?” I said looking at Steve.

He looked up setting the paper aside, “I’m sensing there’s a story there,” he said matter-of-factly.

I hopped to my feet and punched him lightly in the arm, saying, “Wrong, little man.” Then I got out of there before I had to do any more explaining.

As I made the beds, the two of them hollered goodbye from the bottom of the stairs. I wished them both a good day before they left. I gathered the laundry from their closet and mine and started the washing machine. I cut the grass and edged the sidewalks as per Master Mike.

Through the course of my chores, I couldn’t get that dang dream out of my head. The images flashed like a slide show in my mind. First, the topless black woman twisting about as though she were remote controlled; then Mother Wattles invoking her chants oblivious to everything around her, the bonfire with the dancers, the whole thing. Finally, me, strapped to a tree naked, awaiting God only knows what. The mental picture was foreboding and troublesome so I did my best to purge if from my thoughts.

After everything was done, I decided to call mom and say hello. I wanted her to know that I was thinking of her and missing her. As pleased as I was with my living arrangements, she was, after all, my mother and I loved her. I told her about Dave’s family visiting the area over the fourth and the invitation Dave extended. I mentioned the restaurant being closed, too and said I wasn’t sure how it would work out because I was supposed to go back to work that weekend.

Mom filled me in on what she was doing. There was a round of layoffs at the plant and she felt lucky to survive it. She had two bosses now. She retained her old boss and was secretary to the Director of Sales and Marketing now as well. She went on to indicate that Bill invited her to town the weekend of the fourth and she was considering to accept his invitation. Mom wanted to see Bill and I had the time off work. Everything fit nicely so we both agreed we would see each other when she came to town. We exchanged “luv ya’s” then I waited for her to hang up first.

I called Dave only to be told by his mother that he was at Greg’s house. She sounded rather smug when she said it, too. For such a dignified woman, she sure had the propensity to be arrogant and condescending. I thought that maybe Dave’s father needed to exert himself around the house a little more.

I decided to call Greg’s cell and see what they were up to. He answered after three rings. “Hello?”

“Hi, Greg, it’s Val.”

“Hi, what’s going on?”

“That’s why I called. What are you guys up to?”

“We’re sitting by the pool. Are you coming over?”

That sounded like an invitation so I said, “Yeah; should I bring a suit?”

“No need. You can use one of my old ones if we go swimming, just get your butt over here.”

“Okay, see ya in a bit.”

“Out here,” Greg said.

“Later.”

I decided to shower in Mike and Steve’s room since mine was clean. I could clean theirs and shower at the same time. It would only add a few minutes to my routine and I could check that off for the week. When I entered their room, I walked over to their bed looking down on it. I couldn’t help but imagine Mike and Steve having sex. I hopped on their bed and lay there motionless on my back with my hands behind my head. I looked up at the ceiling, wondering if I would ever have a life as good as theirs.

As I lie there, I thought about my relationship with Dave. I wasn’t sure how things would work out for us. As much as I wanted to believe we had something lasting; a little voice kept telling me we were only sixteen years old. Well Dave turned seventeen earlier this summer and I would be seventeen shortly after school started but that was about all we had in common. He was in a different school district than me so we wouldn’t be going to the same school come fall. Then there were the obvious things. His family was rich while I was poor. I came from a humble shack versus his big house with two stairways. As much as I liked working, it wasn’t an option for me whereas his parents bought him anything he needed. I was pretty sure I loved him. I hoped our differences wouldn’t come between us.

It was more than I wanted to ponder so I went about cleaning and showering. When I made it to Greg’s house I went around the side to find them lying on chaise lounges.

“Hi what’s happening?” I said as I took the chaise next to Greg. He was in the middle.

“Not much,” Greg said. “We were just trying to figure out an excuse to attend the St. John’s Eve party … I mean ceremony.”

I looked at Dave, who was frowning, so I asked, “What’s wrong, Dave?”

He looked at Greg and then back to me, saying, “He’s not giving up on the idea.”

“I take it you don’t want to go?”

Greg butted in; “We’re going, and that’s that, so get over it”.

“How are we going to get there?” I asked.

“I have permission to use Mom’s car next Wednesday night. I told her we’re going to a school dance.”

That sounded like a pretty good excuse though I wasn’t sold on the idea either, not after that awful dream. So I asked him, “Is there really a dance?”

“No!” Dave said loudly. “And I can see another grounding coming if I get caught. This time, Mom will probably slap me with a week, maybe more. I don’t think we should go.”

“We’re going!” Greg said adamantly. “No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I have the car for the night, so you guys will have to work it out with your parents …” he turned toward me, “… or guardians, whatever” he said with a wave of his hand.

I couldn’t help myself, “Tape that wrist up, will ya?”

Then Dave and I started laughing at him.

“Fuck you, guys,” he said, then lowered his sunglasses from his forehead.

Greg seemed convinced that we should go. Actually, it was more like he was eagerly anticipating it. I couldn’t understand his motivation. This was freaky shit, not something to take lightly. There were hexes, charms, dolls and fucking chickens! Imagine a ceremony with a fucking chicken! And then there was the dead Voodoo Queen Marie Leveau. How does she and her … ‘magique’, as Mother Wattles says … fit into the picture?

I thought it best to tell Mike and Steve the truth. If it were okay with them, then I would go. If not, then I would take the ribbing that Greg and Dave would surely dish out. I was not going to jeopardize my living arrangements and their trust over some bizarre Voodoo ceremony. I was secretly hoping they would say no.

“I’m going to tell Mike and Steve the truth. I have to. I don’t have a choice,” I said waiting for the verbal abuse to begin.

Of course Greg was first to react. “How stupid can you be? What a dumbass. I can’t believe you said that.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“It’s not dumb, Greg,” I said in self-defense. “If I get into trouble I can be shipped back home and you have no idea what that’s like. If you get into trouble, you get grounded or something easy like that. You get to stay here, this is your home; you have nothing to lose.”

‘He’s right, Greg,” Dave came to my defense.

“Well, we may as well count you out then. You ought to be worried about breaking your promise to Mother Wattles,” he said, trying to make me change my mind. “It won’t go over well with her. She has some of your hair, too, you know.”

He was trying to scare me but I wasn’t going to allow it. “Mother Wattles, Schmattles,” I said. “She has a screw loose in case you didn’t notice. And you’re the one that made the promise, not me. She belongs in the loony bin next to you. And besides, if it’s so harmless, why do you have to lie to go?”

That made him shut his big mouth. We sat there, the three of us, quiet, while our tempers settled down. I was a little uneasy although I felt good about it. I was staying above board with Mike and Steve. Sure, I might sneak into the Quarter or cop a beer from the fridge—something harmless like that; but I wasn’t going to outright lie to them, no way.

Greg’s mother stepped out the back door and hollered at Greg asking if we wanted lunch. He told her yes then she disappeared inside. He looked sideways at me then shook his head again.

“Whatever,” I said in a sarcastic tone.

That night I had another nightmare about the ceremony. The wild white woman with the chicken, the possessed black lady, Mother Wattles … they were all there. I woke abruptly before Mike and Steve came in. I was kicking at the sheets and shouting again. I sat up in bed as they walked in the room.

Steve sat on the bed while Mike stood looking down.

“What’s going on?” Mike wanted to know.

“It was a bad dream, Mike. I’m okay, now. You guys can go back to bed. I’m sorry to wake you.”

Steve had his arm around me which felt darn good while Mike stood there with a discerning look on his face. A few minutes later and they left for their room. Mike lingered in the doorway scrutinizing me before he turned to go. I reclined on the bed not wanting to think about the thoughts churning in his head.

Things went like that for a few days. I didn’t have the dream every night but it did recur twice after that. Steve was treating me with kid gloves, while Mike was skeptical. He seemed to be reserving judgment. I did my best to act as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

It was Wednesday morning and Greg concluded that I wasn’t going with them. Dave was going, reluctantly, at
Greg’s insistence and gave his mother the school dance story, which she believed. I still hadn’t asked Mike and Steve, making me sick and tired of taking the heat from Greg. Damn, once I thought he was hot but now he was a pain in the butt, figuratively speaking. It’s funny how things change.

That morning, I was the first to rise as usual. I went downstairs and started the coffee maker. I sat at the kitchen table waiting for Steve and Mike. They had gotten into the habit of coming down for coffee before showering and dressing. It was something they liked so I did my best to have it ready for them. We were accustomed to using the time to chat and let each other know what was going on.

Steve was first to enter the kitchen. I thought it would be much easier to sway him before approaching Mike.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I have to ask you something.”

 “Shoot, Sport.”

I hemmed and hawed for a minute. Finally mustering the nerve, I said, “I’d like to go out with Dave and Greg tonight.”

I was looking down at the table though I could see from my peripheral vision; he was watching me.

“I’m listening,” he said.

Damn, I could hear Mike on the stairs so I said nervously, “They’re going to a dance at their high school. I was wondering if I could go, too.”

I couldn’t believe what I just said. I told a bold-faced lie to Steve. I honestly didn’t want to go, but the truth is, I was afraid not to. Greg and Mother Wattles put the fear of God or Bon Dieu or whatever in me. I was scared to death she could impose some kind of ominous hex afflicting me with gloom and doom. I didn’t want my life to be one of misery and discontent either. Then there was dad’s spirit to appease and release. I had to do something to get over those horrible nightmares, too. There was too much at stake. I had no choice in the matter.

“Where do you want to go?” Mike asked, on his way to the coffee pot.

“He wants to go to a dance with Dave and Greg tonight,” Steve said.

Mike sat opposite me at the table and blew lightly over the surface of his coffee. He took a sip and set it down, saying, “Where is it and how are you getting there?”

“Greg’s mom is letting him use her car for the night. It’s at their high school.”

“Which one?” Steve asked as he sat down.

“I don’t know the name of it, Steve. It’s further uptown than where they live. That’s all I know.”

I forgot all the details Greg gave me. I was so nervous I couldn’t remember any of it. Now I was scared shitless that super-cop was going to check on the details and find out I was lying.

“What time do you plan to be home?” Mike wanted to know.

That was a good sign that he was giving it serious consideration, so I said, “They have to be home by midnight.”

“That’s rather late. When does the dance get over?”

“I think it gets over at eleven. Geez, Mike, I get home from work later than that,” I said, trying to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal.

Mike turned his attention to Steve, “What do you think?”

“I don’t see any reason why he can’t go. Remember back when we were in high school how important those were?”

Mike looked at me again, “No drugs or alcohol. Do you plan to dance with Dave?”

“Geez, Mike, give me a break, will ya? I don’t want my arse handed to me, ya know?”

That made him chuckle and lighten up somewhat. “Okay, sport, you can go. I’m going to repeat myself so there’s no misunderstanding, no drugs or alcohol. If there’s a problem call us and we’ll come get you, okay?”

“Yeah, there won’t be any trouble,” I leapt to my feet. “Thanks you guys, I have to call Dave and Greg with the good news.” Then I took off for my room and the phone.

As I approached the stairs I overheard Steve chuckle and say to Mike, “Kids.”

To be continued...

I would like to acknowledge Wayne for his help in keeping me focused or on track, and Chris for his help in editing and proof-reading.

Posted: 10/23/09