Free Sugar Doll's Hurricane Blues by Kalua Lauber Page B

haven’t been around. She feels like you abandoned her.” He stepped back from the bar just in case a flying glass would come his way. It didn’t.
    “She’s not a child any more; she is twenty-one years old and should know better. Didn’t I send a check every month to her grandmother? I was only eighteen years old when I had her that ungrateful bitch.” As Mona put the glass down on the bar shelf it cracked. Disgusted she threw it into the garbage can.
    “Of course you are right. But you know you could make the first move and go to see her sing. I can mind the bar while you are gone honey.” Tony gave a placating look.
    “I’m not going crawling to her. If it weren’t for me she wouldn’t even be on this earth. She gives me no credit at alland it hurts Tony, it hurts.” Mona had tears in her eyes, a very unusual event.
    Tony was moved and stood up to go to Mona and hold her. She accepted his affection. It was nice since it had been months since they had touched each other. There was no real reason except that the passion was just too strong and the fights were their undoing.
    “You always make me feel good honey.” Mona purred.
    “I can make you feel better.” Tony smiled his blue eyes flashing with desire. That was all it took for the two of them to be off and running.

     
    Kevin leaned back on his chair musing about his friend’s problem. He considered himself a magician in terms of getting away with crime. “So let me get this straight, you gamble in Biloxi, lose all of your money and then you contact Marsalas’s camp for more money which you continue to lose”? Kevin asked
    “Yeah and it’s compounding daily.” Bertrand said the sweat popping off of the side of his face.
    “Man you are a trip”! Kevin exclaimed.
    “Tell me something I don’t know.” Bertrand sighed.
    “So now instead of repayment they are threatening to take over your club.” Kevin took a drink of his beer.
    “Man, help me. Tell me what to do!”! Bertrand almost cried.
    “I suppose not, gambling never occurred to you.” Kevin joked.
    “Niggah I’m in trouble I’ll quit for sure. Bertrand cried.
    “All right, all right. Let me think. Did they give you a deadline”? Kevin asked.
    “Next Friday.”
    “Damn!” Kevin stood up and circled his tiny room. The green paint was peeling and the once white ceiling was brown.
    “All right, let me put my ear to the ground and find out how I can help you.” Kevin looked out of the window at the causeway bridge that ran past his home on its way to cross the Mississippi River.

     
    Remy sat watching CNN; there was a storm in the Gulf of Mexico. The wooden faced anchorman’s blue eyes matched the color of his suit, “Hurricane Katrina promises to be a category five hurricane. Residents of lower Plaquemines Parish are being told to evacuate”. Remy sat bolt upright in his chair. “Sugar Doll” he whispered under his breath. Big Ma didn’t have a car. Bertrand had been their sole source of transportation and he hadn’t seen him in about five days. Remy picked up the phone only to get a recording, “We’re sorry all circuits are busy, please hang up the phone and try again later.” Remy hung up and hit speed dial only to get the same recording. Feeling unproductive he thought to himself, “It probably won’t hit anyway.” He couldn’t help feeling the knot in his stomach; he had a bad feeling about it.
    He walked over to the window and peered out to see the usual view of the river and the trolley train. Even from this distance he could see that the water was choppy. Living on the third floor walkup of his tiny French Quarter apartment hadits advantages. He saw the New Orleans ferry boat moored at the dock rollicking with the waves but obviously out of service. The sky was purple and gray and the clouds were fat with rain. This was nothing new in the city. Instead of the Crescent City they should call it the rainy city.
    Remy had two gigs tonight. One was scheduled at