Free Just Wanna Testify by Pearl Cleage

on Brother Nolan, who is already hanging on by a very slender thread.”
    “I doubt that.”
    “It’s true, Miss Abbie,” Louie protested. “When you’re not on this island, he is just this side of pitiful. He stands in front of that picture up front and looks for all the world like a man about to die of a broken heart.”
    Abbie laughed. Their friendship was based on an easy foundation of gentle teasing and they both enjoyed it.
    “Where is my true love, anyway?” Abbie said, looking around as if Peachy might be hiding behind a big bag of Vidalia onions or a giant sack of flour.
    “Gone to see Mr. Chu about our liquor order,” Louie said and rolled his eyes.
    No surprise there, Abbie thought. Mr. Chu owned a number of businesses on the island, including a liquor distributorship, and he and Peachy were engaged in an endless series of discussions about pricing. Peachy claimed he was being cheated blind and Mr. Chu claimed he was being driven to the poorhouse by his efforts to be fair to his valued customers.
    “He’ll be back in a minute. You hungry?”
    “I’m fine,” Abbie said, realizing this was her chance to raise Blue’s question with Louie before Peachy returned. “Actually, I was hoping to have a chance to talk with you alone.”
    Louie grinned at her. “Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.”
    “Fair enough,” Abbie said, grinning back. “I just wanted to ask if you ever knew a family of Mayflowers back in Louisiana.”
    The smile froze on Louie’s, face, but his voice was noncommittal. “Mayflower?”
    “They may have had a lot of daughters.”
    Louie tugged at his chin like he was trying to remember. “Tall, skinny gals?”
    “That’s right. You know them?”
    Louie fiddled with a tiny bottle of Tabasco sauce on his desk. Abbie wondered if the vampires were allowed to spice up their tomato juice with some hot sauce; maybe a shot of vodka every now and then.
    “I heard of them. Everybody in Reserve know about the Mayflowers.”
    Reserve was Louie’s tiny hometown, located right outside New Orleans.
    The question is
, Abbie thought,
what did they know?
“One of them came to see Blue this morning.”
    “In Atlanta?”
    Abbie nodded.
    “Came to see him about what?”
    She looked at Louie for a minute and then did what she always did: went straight to the heart of the matter. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
    Louie sighed and smoothed his hands over the spotless expanse of his apron. A few Christmases ago, he had given his friends black aprons that said,
Don’t make me have to poison your food
, but this one was just plain.
    “Miss Abbie, this is not something to be discussed in the middle of preparations for the Friday night dinner rush,” he said gently. “But is it true?”
    “What did Blue say?”
    “He’s the one who wanted me to ask you about the Mayflowers.”
    “Then I’ll tell you what I know, but not now. Tomorrow, after I pick the fish.”
    As serious as the topic under discussion was, Abbie had to smile. First and foremost, Louie Baptiste was a chef. Sweet Abbie’s prideditself on serving the freshest seafood on the island. No way was Louie going to let some vampires get in the way of that hard-won distinction.
    Abbie had no choice but to wait. The first seating for dinner was in three hours, and the kitchen was already coming alive around them as Louie’s small staff moved about efficiently, communicating with a minimum of verbal exchanges, as longtime coworkers often do. They all knew what Friday nights were like, and that by six thirty a line of happy, hungry people would be halfway down the block. The best way to survive it with your sanity and your tips intact was to do your job and stay loose. Abbie knew the rules and she respected them.
    “You’re right,” she said, standing up to leave him to his work. “I’ll wait for Peachy out front. This is no time to talk.”
    “Tomorrow morning will be time enough,” Louie said, standing up, too, and sounding