Free Fat Tuesday Fricassee by J. J. Cook Page A

worst possible thing happened. The doorbell rang. I answered it without thinking.
    It was my mother.
    She was wearing one of her pale pink power suits with a matching bag and heels. Her short blond hair was perfect—as always. I’d been dyeing the gray out of my black hair since I was eighteen. Sometimes I “accidentally” allow a silver streak to show.
    Not my mother. Her blond hair was always exactly the same shade as it had been when I was a child. Her blue eyes were keen, taking in the two men. She entered the room like a force of nature. That’s why she always won when she went to court. I could only imagine the fear in someone’s eyes when they faced her across the bench when she became a judge.
    There was no doubt in my mind that she’d win the election.
    â€œWhat’s going on, Ted?” She didn’t even acknowledge Uncle Saul.
    I knew they had been a couple before she and my father were married. But that was a long time ago.
    My father, being the man he was, spilled everything to her in a matter of seconds. They didn’t get divorced because he wasn’t willing to do whatever she told him. It was more a matter of the things she
didn’t
tell him to do—including other women he enjoyed being with outside their marriage.
    Uncle Saul rolled his eyes and got another drink.
    â€œI knew all that secret society and krewe nonsense was nothing but trouble.” My mother summed up her beliefs on the subject.
    â€œAnabelle, that isn’t true,” Daddy defended. “They do a lot of good in this city. This was just a mistake.”
    â€œA mistake that could cost our daughter her life!” My mother snarled like a tigress defending her cub. “We have to get Zoe out of town.”
    â€œSee?” Daddy laughed at Uncle Saul. “That’s exactly what I said after I saw the ghost of Old Slac this morning.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about, Ted?” my mother demanded. “How much have you had to drink?”
    â€œNot enough,” he drawled.
    â€œRunning away won’t help this situation, Bella.” Uncle Saul tried to reason with her.
    I’d never heard him call her by that name before. I’d never heard anyone call her by that name.
    She ignored his lapse in judgment. “Go home to your gator, Saul. I think Ted and I know what’s best for our daughter.”
    I was tired of listening to everyone talk about me like I wasn’t there. “I’m not going anywhere, Mom. I’m working the next two weeks. Do you know what an opportunity it is to be part of carnival?”
    â€œQuiet, Zoe. Go pack a bag.” My mother took out her cell phone—pink like her suit. “I’ll arrange for a private plane to take her to New York. She’ll be fine there for a few weeks.”
    â€œI need to go,” Daddy said. “Old Slac said I’m in danger, too.”
    â€œAnabelle, Ted, just listen for a minute.” Uncle Saul tried to reason with them.
    As their arguments grew louder, I kissed Crème Brûlée’s nose and told him to be a good boy. “Let’s go before this gets any uglier.”
    He bit my nose a little and licked it before I picked him up in my arms. It was as though he completely understood what I was saying. He’s such a smart kitty.
    I grabbed my bag, too, and said good-bye to my relatives. As I walked out the door, I heard my mother yell, “She’s leaving! Someone do something!”
    Her words only brought on more arguing. I closed the door to the apartment and pressed the button for the elevator. It was blessedly quiet on the trip downstairs. Not so much when I walked outside, as a large high school band was marching down the middle of the street.
    Two makeshift floats followed them. The street was already littered with beads and tiny toys. Everyone stood on the sidewalk, watching and waving. There was no way to leave the immediate area, but I