101 In the Shade Pt. 01

"But Honey..." Candy wheedled.

"I'll look at them later," Earl repeated with conviction.

Candy frowned as much as she could with the Botox injection. Denying Earl Sex wasn't going to work; he was in no shape for sex right now.

"Uh, Mr. Chopin, I uh, if anything happen to you before you get a chance..." Parker said, irritated.

He did not like inconveniences. Coming to the hospital was an inconvenience. Being brushed off was an inconvenience.

"Then you just better hope nothing happens to me, huh?" Earl sneered.

Parker Johnson was nearly the mirror image of his father in attitude and deportment. Earl had neither trusted nor liked Jesse Johnson, even if the man had been an excellent lawyer.

Earl then feigned falling asleep. Candy stamped her foot in irritation and Parker scowled at her as he picked up his eel skin briefcase.

A few moments later, one of the nurses came in and Earl smiled at the attractive black woman.

"Who's the best lawyer you know?" he asked the woman.

"Sophia Coutre, without a doubt," Venus O'Toole said without hesitation. "Hadn't been for her, I'd never been a nurse."

"Please get her for me," Earl said and felt for his wallet, which he did not have.

"Yes sir," Venus smiled, placing a comforting hand on his.

Moments later, Earl realized, although Candy had been there several times, and he vaguely remembered Colleen and Collette standing there, looking anxious, none of them had ever touched him.

In the Bombay Café in Kimble, Louisiana, Clay and Louellen Pratt, an attractive black student was leaving after enjoying a satisfying lunch. Clay put his sunglasses on and opened the door for Louellen, just as Candy and Parker stepped up to the door.

Candy gasped, recognizing Clay Chopin, even though his brown hair was covered by a 'U.L.D. Storm' baseball cap and his brown eyes were covered by the dark sunglasses.

"Clay!" Candy said.

Clay paused, looked at her, and then continued walking toward his Ford F150 pickup truck.

"Clayton Michael Chopin, don't you dare walk away like you don't know me," she shrilled.

Clay smirked in amusement at the woman's anger and helped Louellen into the truck.

"Your father would like to see you; he's in the hospital," Candy snarled.

"Until he sends you back to Hell where you belong, I do not have a father," Clay said coldly.

"And your sisters would..." Candy continued.

"And I do not have any sisters; those two evil little cunts are of no relation to me," Clay said, slammed his door shut and left.

At St. Elizabeth Parish Trauma Center, Polly Chastaine had to scramble to keep up with her boss, Sophia Coutre, as the attractive fifty eight year old stepped off the elevator and strode to Earl Chopin's room.

"Venus O'Toole didn't even hesitate when I asked her who the best lawyer is," Earl said.

"I will have to thank her later," Sophia smiled.

She pursed her lips as she looked at the papers Candy and Parker had drawn up and pursed her lips.

"Please tell me you did not sign this," she asked. "You say you have a son? There is absolutely no mention of him in this document.

As Polly typed rapidly on her laptop computer, Earl dictated, with Sophia making corrections.

Chapter 3

"We're analyzing soil conditions, rainfall, crop conditions of Nineteen Twenty Nine and Nineteen Thirty," Clay told Anita as she asked him about his progress. "Ms. Lopez, we're getting very close to cracking the code on Early's Sweet. I did isolate that he used sugar cane; that's one reason why we're looking at the soil conditions and rainfall for..."

"Enough; you're making my head hurt," the Latin beauty smiled at him.

"Early's Finest, though, I will be honest," Clay continued. "That one has me stymied. There's a certain component that gave it an undertone, a certain woodiness that I just cannot figure out. But don't worry; we'll get it."

"Why I hired you," Anita agreed.

While Clay and Anita were kibitzing in his lab, Candy was sitting at 1815 Morning Drive, Kimble Louisiana, whishing she had not forced Earl Chopin to throw out all his alcohol.

She knew it was a dangerous moment for her. The one time she'd drank gin after finding Jesus, she had once again gone back to her drug of choice, cocaine.

She'd drank a gin and tonic with Librarian and Booger, two bikers she'd known, just to 'catch up on old times.' The next thing she knew, Librarian was jamming his long thin cock into her anus while Booger was sticking a needle into her arm, shooting her up with more cocaine.

Fortunately for her, Early had been in New York City, at a conference. He never found out about her little transgression; he blamed her jittery nerves and loss of appetite on a flu she'd been having and the flu medication as the reason she was jumpy.

Parker Johnson was now refusing Candy's phone calls, referring her instead to Debbi, his Administrative Assistant. The private investigator, the one Earl had hired to find Clay, was refusing to give her any contact information. Richard Boudreaux's reason was that it had been Earl Chopin that had hired him, not Candy Chopin.

"You're a fucking idiot," Candy snarled into the telephone and slammed it down.

"Momma!" Colleen gasped, truly shocked at her mother's vulgarity.

"Oh shut up," Candy snarled and Colleen dashed up the stairs toward her room.

As Colleen passed in front of Clayton's door, she paused.

A few days after their disappointment at Clay's graduation, Mr. Earl had put Clay's door back up and closed the door to the boy's room.

Colleen tried the knob and it opened. The door creaked slightly as she pushed it open.

Clay's bed was neatly made; Momma had made sure that his bed was made each and every morning the moment Clay got out of bed. Colleen knew her own bed wasn't made; Momma made her shut the door so she didn't have to look at it.

A layer of dust covered the small desk and Colleen used the tip of her finger to draw a little heart in the dust.

There were no doors on Clay's closet; Momma didn't want him hiding anything. The boy's clothes hung neatly, three pair of dress shoes lay on the floor.

A layer of dust was on his chest of drawers and Colleen drew another heart then opened the top drawer.

Clay's Bible was in there, along with his Kimble Academy yearbook.

Colleen smiled as she remembered the silly things her girlfriends had written into her 2013 Yearbook and pulled Clay's yearbook out.

"Dear Clay: Sorry we didn't get to go to the Prom; it would have been great, Love Debbie"

"Clay: Semper Fi, you faggot! Mike"

"Hey Clay, kill all them raghead mother fuckers, Derek"

"Dearest Clay: You were my first kiss and I'll remember you always. All my love, Allison Huxton."

Colleen flipped ahead and found Allison Huxton's photograph and scowled at the pudgy girl. There were three Debbie's in the book but Colleen guessed it was probably Debbie Thompson that Clay had not been allowed to go to the prom with. The girl looked like a sinful whore.

There were a total of five photographs of Clay in the yearbook; Colleen lingered over the one that showed him lounging outside with two boys, faces frozen in a shared laugh. She recognized the other two boys as Mike and Derek. She softly touched the page, trying to feel his laughter.

Another drawer revealed some neatly folded underwear and Colleen blushed at the intimate apparel. Then she noticed a magazine underneath the neatly folded briefs. Colleen wondered how this magazine had escaped her mother's careful scrutiny of Clay's room.

Colleen gasped as she read 'Shaved Blonde Sluts' in odd white squiggly letters across the top of the cover.

(Colleen was too inexperienced to recognize that the letters were shaped to look like cum stains on the page, cum stains that happened to spell out the name of the magazine.)

Inside the shameful magazine were photographs of women with hairless vulvas doing disgusting things with men and even more shameful actions with other women. Colleen quickly closed the magazine and hurriedly put it back into Clay's drawer. She did notice that there were two other magazines in there but did not bother to look at those.

The rest were just more of Clay's clothing, but any essence of him had long ago faded away.

While Colleen was in their brother's room, Collette was on a sweltering hot field, leading a group of twelve year old girls through a cheer. Around her neck, she wore the 2011 medal she and the Kimble Academy Mustangs had won at the 2011 State Championship.

"Kyrie, I swear your Momma dropped you on your head," Collette called out to one girl that was having difficulty. "Then your Daddy picked you up and dropped you again."

She hugged the girl to let her know she wasn't really mad at her, and then showed her again the pattern she wanted.

"And again! Five, six, seven eight!" she called out and led them through the cheer.

Then she sent them off the field.

"I'm sorry, Miss Simone," Kyrie whispered.

"Oh Sweetie, I'm not mad at you," Collette said and planted a kiss on the girl's forehead. "You just really need to practice more, okay?"

Kyrie ran off the field, elated that her hero didn't hate her.

"Hey, how's your dad?" Marie, a Latin girl that also wore a 2011 medal asked.

"Mr. Earl's not my dad," Collette said dejectedly and sat on the hot metal bleacher seat.

Collette had been able to push the thought aside, push the fear aside while working with the girls. Collette had been able to concentrate on anything but Momma's anger and Colleen's neediness and clinging nature.

She was also able to think of anything but how desperate she felt inside, how alone she felt.

"Want come on over?" Marie asked.

Collette slowly shook her head no, staring hard at the ground.

She knew that Marie was attracted to her; the girl had let Collette know that from the first day they both tried out for Cheer Squad. Collette had told Marie that lesbianism; homosexuality was a sin, an affront to God.

In time, Collette had hardened not her heart against one of the few girls that was not deterred by her religious feelings and they were friends.

Now, even though she was living with a girlfriend, Marie still tried to get with the blonde blue eyed beauty.

"No, but thanks," Collette said, and then looked around. "Oh shoot! What time is it?"

"Two o'clock, why?" Marie asked, looking at her watch.

"I got to meet with my advisor at two thirty," Collette screamed, racing for her car.

As Collette drove her BMW past St. Elizabeth Parish Trauma Center, she did glance over, did wonder how Mr. Earl was doing.

In his room, Earl was quietly praying, clutching the plastic rosary that Venus O'Toole had brought for him.

"Aw sure, Sugar, you my favorite patient," the woman said, white teeth gleaming in her ebony face.

"And you my favorite nurse," Earl smiled.

"Hail Mary, full of grace..." he mouthed.

At the nurses' station, Debbie Thompson looked up as her computer monitor suddenly whined.

"Code Blue, Four One Two. Code Blue, Four One Two," she calmly and clearly stated into the microphone, then let go of the button and raced for room 412.

While a doctor and two cardiac nurses were attempting to resuscitate Samuel Earl Chopin, Candy Chopin stopped at a convenience store.

She wanted gin but the last time she'd drank gin, it had led her right back to cocaine. She reasoned that vodka would be a safer choice for her.

Rum. She hated rum; the sugar in it gave her horrendous heartburn, and afterward, monumental hangovers. Surely that would be safer for her than gin, or even vodka. With rum, she'd be able to control the amount she took.

"A fifth...no, make it a half-gallon of Bacardi; do you have dark?" Candy snapped as she grabbed a two liter bottle of diet 7Up off the shelf.

Candy's cell phone rang and she pushed the button to send it to voice mail. She just did not feel like listening to Collette's complaints or Colleen's whining right now.

Chapter 4

Parker Johnson almost did a dance when he heard of Samuel Earl Chopin's passing. If the man died without the benefit of a will, his client, Mrs. Chopin stood to inherit quite a substantial chunk of change. He was so glad he'd had Debbie record the times Candy called their office.

"Eighty five dollars a quarter hour, minimum a quarter hour every time you call," he gleefully calculated out loud.

"Candy Chopin on line three; want me to take it?" Debbie's metallic voice crackled.

"A hundred and fifteen a quarter hour, minimum one quarter hour if you talk to me," Parker chortled. "No, Debbie, I got it."

Candy sat in her living room, curtains tightly drawn against the morning sun. The darkened room did little to soothe her frayed nerves, though.

There was about an inch of rum in the bottom of the bottle but rum wasn't want Candy wanted. Her head pounded, her mouth felt like someone had stuffed cotton wool into it, and her nerves were screaming for cocaine. The spot where she used to shoot up actually itched right now.

"Someone cut off the bank accounts," Candy shrilled the moment Parker Johnson's voice could be heard.

"Yes, the credit cards too," she snapped.

"No, Mr. Johnson; I'm fucking psychic," she snapped. "Yes, I tried them, Mr. Johnson; that's how I know."

In her office, Sophia Coutre resolutely set about carrying out Mr. Chopin's edicts. He had stipulated that all accounts and credit cards be frozen, that only the mortgage and utilities were to be paid until such time that his will could be read.

It was her least favorite chore; she had urged the man to be a little more compassionate and understanding toward his wife and daughters but the man stood firm.

"They are not my daughters and after her night of fucking two bikers and shooting up dope in a motel room? I'm not so sure she's my wife either," the man had snapped.

But Sophia hold firm against cutting off their cell phones immediately.

"Mr. Chopin, they're going to need to be able to communicate," she said simply.

"Fine, don't cut them off until after," he conceded.

Sophia logged on to the Internet and traced the two certified letters she'd sent to Mrs. Samuel Earl Chopin and to the last known address of Clayton Michael Chopin. The one to Mrs. Chopin was scheduled to be delivered today; the one to Clay was being returned. Clay no longer lived in the dormitory of U.L.D. Campus, but the University had no forwarding address for Clayton Michael Chopin.

"Hello, Mr. Boudreaux?" Sophia said into her telephone. "I need you to make a delivery please."

In his laboratory, Clay tensed for a moment, and then nodded when Ginger Aucoin, one of his assistants asked if he was any relation to Earl Chopin.

"Used to be my father, before he married Satan herself," he said and looked at some sediment samples under the electronic microscope.

"Passed away a couple days ago," Ginger said.

"Shame," was all Clay said and continued to study the sediments carefully. Here, tell me what you see, huh?"

"I see a cold hearted bastard," Ginger thought, but kept that thought to herself as she likewise peered into the eyepiece.

"Dr. Chopin," Anita said, coming into the lab. "I just wanted to convey my condolences. I was at church and heard about your father's passing. I assume you'll be leaving early for the memorial service?"

"No, but thank you," Clay said.

"My office? Please?" Anita said.

"Clay, my step-father? Luther? Well, I guess he was my step-father; he and my mother lived together for about twenty years, anyway, he died last year," Anita said, sitting behind her desk.

"Sorry for your loss," Clay said; an automatic response.

"Not much of a loss," Anita said, also an automatic response.

She smiled tightly.

"Anyway, I went, I said a rosary, forgave Luther for his few faults, his few transgressions," Anita went on. "My mother? She truly did appreciate me coming."

Anita sighed.

"We don't do it for them, Dr. Chopin; we do it for ourselves. I really would encourage you to go, but you do whatever you think is right," she concluded.

"Thank you, Anita," Clay said quietly.

"Sure thing, Clay," Anita smiled; it was the first time they'd addressed each other by their first names.

At a convenience store near St. Thomas Aquinas, Candy rifled through her purse and found a crumpled twenty dollar bill.

She was outraged; why would Earl go behind her back and arrange to have his memorial service held at a Catholic Church? He had been Catholic in his youth, but she had shown him that the Catholic Church no longer followed God's Scripture.

"Gin, Got Beef..." Candy demanded, grabbing a two liter bottle of diet Coke off the shelf.

"We got Miles and uh... No. Miles; that's what we got," the Asian girl smiled, gold lip ring making Candy wince.

However, when Candy saw that, after buying the two liter bottle of diet Coke, and the fifth of Miles Gin, she still had twelve dollars left, determined that she now liked Miles Gin.

"Momma, the mailman was here; had a certified letter for you," Colleen said when Candy came into the house.

"Where is it?" Candy asked, looking at the stack of mail that had not changed since yesterday.

"Said you had to sign for it," Colleen said.

Candy stared at her youngest daughter. It was hard to believe that the girl would be nineteen in just a few months; she was so immature.

She tried to put her finger on when Colleen had gone from being a quiet and thoughtful little girl to the clingy, needy brat she was today.

"God, you couldn't just say you were me, huh?" Candy snapped.

"And Collette said she tried to put some gas in her car and the pump wouldn't take it," Colleen went on.

"Told y'all that yesterday," Candy snapped.

She then tried to remember how much gas was in hers, Earl's Mercedes-Benz.

"What'd you buy?" Colleen asked, attempting to look into the convenience store's bag.

"None of your business," Candy snapped and marched upstairs, precious bag tight against her chest.

The following morning, at St. Thomas Aquinas, Colleen and Collette looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. Neither girl had ever been in a Catholic church before. Next to them, Candy wanted to scream. What few nerves she had left were completely shot.

"Oh, I know, I know, it was a complete shock," she said to Bonnie, Earl's administrative assistant. "He looked better; he was joking and laughing..."

"Oh thank you, yes, he talked about you all the time," Candy said to Jim Taylor.

Colleen stared at the box that held the only father she'd ever known. Momma had admitted to her, on Colleen's thirteenth birthday, she didn't know who Colleen's father was; she'd been in a drug and alcohol induced blackout at Colleen's conception.

Colleen wanted to go up to the casket, tell the man good bye, tell him that she truly did love him and would really miss him. But she was terrified of looking at a dead person. Suppose his eyes opened and fangs grew out, like in that movie she and Collette watched?

A muscular young man walked up to the box, knelt down on the kneeler, and quietly said a prayer.

Colleen looked at the broad back and, even though she would have denied it, the man's nice tight ass, then watched the man take a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket.

Collette also watched; she would have had no trouble admitting she did check out the nice tight ass, and then turned to say something to one of Mr. Earl's smelly old friends that was whispering condolences.

Candy was trying to wiggle her too tight shoes back on; her feet were swollen, probably from stress. It certainly would not be from the few drinks she'd imbibed.

"Clay!" Colleen gasped as the young man turned sunglasses firmly on his face.

He didn't even turn to look at them, just strode out of the church.

Colleen couldn't get past her mother, who was still trying to get her left shoe on.