Down at the Twist and Shout Ch. 01

*

"Hello Missah Barker? This here Jean Deaucette, I reckon you-all remember me? Yessir, I'm in New York, and I wuz wonderin' if I could come see you; yessir, it seems like I need to be here in New York fo' while, and that bein' so, I'd like to take you up on your kind offer sir, if it still open?"

*

Jerome Barker put down the handset and grinned happily.

"Good news?" smiled the tiny, pixy-ish girl sitting opposite him, and the pretty, dark haired girl sitting next to her cocked her head curiously at the expression on his face.

"Oh yes, Moon, very good news, very good news indeed! Kelly, an old friend's coming to see you, all the way from New Orleans! Yes, my dear, Jean Deaucette's going to be your new best friend, sweetheart, he'll make sure you don't get into any more little scrapes! I'm sure you two are going to be the best of friends, oh indeed yes!"

Moon glanced curiously at the half apprehensive, half worshipful expression on Kelly's face, and cocked an eyebrow at Jerome.

"I take it this is a good thing?" she ventured, and Jerome Barker beamed at her.

"Oh yes, darling girl; you have Cloud and Tommy, now Kelly's got Big Jean Deaucette, it's all working out so well! I'd ask Cloud to make some coffee to celebrate, but I'm still recovering from the last time. Please...?"

He gazed at her imploringly and Moonbeam O'Shaughnessy, the world's most sought-after teen-fashion model, grinned at her husband and brother Cloud's injured expression as she began collecting and washing the used cups from the cluttered breakfast table.

*

Life in New York had, really speaking, been almost the way it was back in the Big Easy; same vermin, different accent, and the same temptations, vices, and squalid, furtive little dens to indulge same. The way John saw it, if he was to be any use as a trouble-shooter, it was down to him to learn the names, faces and hangouts where the stuff he was supposed to keep his charges away from was happening.

It soon became apparent to the specialists who preyed on his employers' clients that there was a new gun in town, and it didn't do to come to his attention; a couple of the more aggressive or reckless ones learned the hard way that while big John B might smile mildly and speak like a backwoods hick, he knew ways of dissuading them that made them wish real quick they'd kept down and stayed quiet.

His colleagues and fellow travellers, both within Baxter-Harkoff and the other specialist operators who did what he did, quickly learned that John Bastine might be a newbie, but he knew his stuff, and his instincts were more than a match for any of theirs when it came to reading the streets and sniffing out trouble before it began.

Within a very short while, word on the streets and around the clubs, hot bars, and VIP lounges had one thing to say about the newbie: John Bastine was bad news, and it paid to keep off his radar; his charges were in town to play, party, spend big, and go home safe, and he knew a thousand and one real painful ways of making sure things stayed that way.

At home, though, John was a different man entirely; mama-Jane needed her family to be united now, but most of all, she needed him to be his baby sister's big brother, the older male presence and support she so badly needed, and so John quickly became what his family needed most. Jane knew what he did for a living, she didn't like what he did, that world frightened her, and it dismayed her that he had to do such work, but she knew John needed to work, and she needed him to be at peace with his life if he was ever going to be part of his family again.

Watching him gently teasing his sister, or sitting with his arm around her, swaying as he sang softly in that beguiling, musical French dialect he'd grown-up speaking, or watching her face redden and her eyes water as she gamely ate her way through the red-hot shrimp étouffée she'd insisted on sharing with him, or frowning over her books as they tried to unravel an equation for her math homework, she felt happy and at peace, confident that her children were there for each other.

So she kept her peace and watched him flourish and grow, amazed at how easily the boy from the bayou managed to fit so completely into New York, and the speed with which he'd taken to the city, wearing it almost like a second skin.

Justine was enthralled by his life and the stories he'd tell her, after an afternoon of pestering, about which pop idol, fashion model, or movie star he'd spent the night watching and shadowing, begging him for autographs and mementoes, and Johnny, much as he disliked the idea, would oblige; Justine had asked him for something, he would get it for her; it was that simple. His charges, usually grateful for his pulling them out of their latest scrape, bout of unwelcome attention, or brush with the law, were only too happy to cooperate, and Justine, like any young teenage girl would, hero-worshipped the man who spent his life so close to the stars.

*

Jane's death when it happened was as shocking as it was random; a simple accident, a misstep on a slippery, rain-slick sidewalk on her way back from the store on the corner, and a truck that had no time to avoid her as she fell into its path, and John and Justine were alone, fate taking their mother away just when Justine needed her most. It was only a week before Spring Break, and John, to treat his mother and kid sister, had bought a week at a resort on Nantucket Island, a quiet beach getaway for Jane and Justine to recharge and be alone together.

Instead, he'd had the nightmarish task of calling her out of her class, breaking the news to her, then taking the grief-stricken, hysterical girl home to calm her and try and help her past the huge, unbearable loss they had to endure.

Justine was just sixteen when Jane died and it fell to John now to be her parent, guardian, guide, and everything else Jane had been. The prospect frightened him; coming to New York to be the man of the family had been enough of a wrench. It had frightened him, but, in a manner so typical of him, he'd pushed the fear down inside and stepped-up. Now the fear was back, even bigger than before; how the hell was he supposed to be a parent when he'd only just learned how to be a big brother?

They stumbled along together, making mistakes, making them right, growing together, and growing apart as well as the inevitable changes happened. John wasn't at all happy about her dating, and made no secret of the fact, while Justine in turn went out of her way to show him she was an adult, and just as cool and capable as he. Their battles were epic, and usually one-sided; when push came to shove, Johnny fought her all the way, but eventually conceded, because he loved his baby sister and only wanted her to be happy.

One boy in particular made John's radar stand up and twitch: Giancarlo Pellini. All her other boyfriends had been three-date wonders, but this guy was different; he kept coming back, and something about his smug, entitled behaviour rubbed raw edges on every one of John's instincts. The son of her father's business associate and boyhood friend, he was a bad one through and through, spoiled, wilful, and arrogant, and he was no good for her, so when she came to John and told him that when she graduated high school she was marrying Giancarlo, he reacted predictably enough.

Justine gave him time and room to get used to the idea, but he didn't, he just couldn't. The situation wasn't helped when he took Carlo aside while Justine was having her dress fitting with her girlfriends and Carlo's mother, and told him that the day he hurt Justine was the day they were going to find him head-down inside a Louisiana bull 'gator, and if he thought he was just blowing smoke, he was welcome to try him.

Justine found out about the conversation and tore into him, while Carlo stood by and smirked, until John grinned at him over Justine's head, casually scratched the side of his left eye, and winked at him; Carlo stopped smirking and went ashen-pale; he knew full well Big John B had just told him that next time he tried to set Justine against him, it was going to cost him an eye. Any further attempts by Carlo Pellini to make John look bad in front of his sister died unborn; Carlo knew Johnny Deaucette didn't make idle threats.

Time passed, Justine forgave him, things calmed down, but John never managed to lose or allay his misgivings when it came to Carlo Pellini; he just didn't like or trust him, and lived on tenterhooks, waiting for the call telling him the marriage was set to crash and burn, and the inevitable fallout from Justine.

*

As Johnny sang, he felt Justine slowly loosening up, easing her death-grip on his arm, her hand instead lightly tapping his arm in time with his. John smiled gently, a faraway look on his face as he remembered Justine as a young teen crouching behind him on the couch, swaying and beating time on his back and shoulders as he sang this same song to their mother.

When he got to the end of the song, he looked down, to see her looking back up at him instead of burying her head against his chest and turning her face away from him. John smiled and started another song, a softer, simpler tune he'd learned as a lullaby to put his little cousin Renée to sleep, one he used to sing to Justine too, and he saw the corners of her lips quirk in a fleeting smile before she clouded-up again. John stopped singing and shook his head, before smoothing her hair away from her eyes and tapping her lip gently with his forefinger.

"Justy, baby-girl, it's OK, it's me, you don't ever have to hide nuthin' from me, ever; you my boo'sha', I love you most of all, and I ain't never gonna think bad o' you, so whyn't you gimme that smile again?"

Justine grinned weakly at his put-on accent, and relaxed even further; now she was curled into his arm, not huddled into a tense, tight ball, and John could hug her properly at last. They sat like that for a few minutes, Justine relaxed but unmoving, and showing no sign of wanting to get off him, and John waited, her slight weight troubling him not at all, knowing that when she was ready, she'd start telling him what was going on with her.

The silence built, until it was almost tangible, a huge, soft weight pressing down on both of them. Johnny had just about decided she was going to lie there like that all morning, when the slightest noise, the soft sound of her indrawn breath, focused him on her again.

"Do you hate me, Johnny B? Do I make you sick? I must be sick, doing what I was doing, do you think I'm sick, or wrong in the head?" she murmured, her tone fearful and guilty.

John looked down into her eyes, wide and fearful, and smiled gently, even as he reached out to tap the end of her nose.

"Baby girl, ain't nothing yawl were doin' I ain't done a million times. Look where you are, baby, look what's here; this is all my stuff, I been buyin' this stuff, so if you sick, then so am I, and I know I ain't sick! I was shocked seeing you doin'...private stuff, you know, like that, but 'taint shameful or nuthin, it's natural, but now we're here, and there ain't no room left for lyin' or denyin', then I got to tell you that whatever you feelin', I'm feelin' it too. You seen what I got here, them gals all look like you, you must ha' figured-out by now 'tain't no coincidence..."

Justine stared at him in silence, her expression shocked, but also calculating, her eyes tracking up and down his face, reading him, looking for any signs of guile or untruth; there were none. Justine knew her brother, she could read him like a book, and now that she knew what to look for, she could see what he'd been trying to hide from her for so long. With a sudden surge she twisted around and slid astride him, slipping her hands under his arms and leaning against him as she hugged him, before gazing once again into his eyes.

"Johnny, I know what I've been thinking for the longest time, and...and I think I know what you've been thinking about too, but now, maybe you should tell me; all cards on the table, Country-Boy; you tell me, and I'll tell you, deal?"

John stared at her set, pale features, at that slight narrowing of her eyes that told him she was serious, that now it was time for the truth, and suddenly, it seemed so much less complicated; she knew his secret shame, and she was still here anyway; somehow, he knew that whatever he had to say, sweet little Justy would stop, listen, and never judge him.

"Baby-girl, I reckon you know what's goin' on with me; I never asked for it, I never tried to push you into nuthin' and convince you, I respected your marriage and your vows, you made them afore God, and it warn't my place to tell you to set them aside, but damn, girl, it's been real hard! Justy, you know now, just as well as I do, how I feel about you, and it don't matter that you're my baby sister; there's no-one in the world 'cept maybe Carlo knows who I am to you, you all I got, and I know it's all wrong, but you all I want; if you-all want to just leave now then I won't stop you, but I got to tell you just once, afore my own heart bursts..."

He paused, gathering his thoughts, and when he spoke, the musical, French-tinged accent of his Cajun boyhood was back, not the exaggerated 'good ole boy' drawl he put-on to amuse her, and that alone told her he was speaking from way deep down inside himself, the real Jean-Bastiènne laying his heart open to her gaze.

"Justy, Baby-girl, yawl need to know I love you from here to the bottom o' the ocean, and long as it takes to get from here to there and back around the long way; ain't no way I ever gon' hurt you, y'always been my special girl, right from when you was small an' you was ma petite Minou-minou (kitten). You my boo'sha', li'l girl, and y'always will be, yawl jest remember that. I love you, Minou, I think I always have. I don't care none if'n you ma petite soeur, my li'l sister, Je t'aime si fort, Minou (I love you so much, little kitty-cat)."

John waited in anticipation, his hopes gradually dying down as Justine sat motionless astride him, her eyes searching his, looking for the lie, but just as he would turn away from her, convinced he'd read her wrong, that she didn't feel what he was feeling, her small hands cupped his face, turning his head to face her again. His heart skipped a beat when he saw she was smiling, her small teeth nibbling her bottom lip in that way he'd always found so charming.

"Johnny, since I was a young girl you've been the most important thing in my life; my big, sweet, handsome brother who lived so far away, but always told me he loved me; when you came to us, I was the happiest girl alive, because I had you with me at last. I made mistakes, Johnny, there were times I knew I should have listened to you, but you never jumped all over me, you never put me down, or took anything away from me, and you never said 'I told you so' or made me feel like I was anything less than what I was."

She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands before continuing.

"I always admired you Johnny B; you've always been my rock, and the one thing in my life I loved more than anything, except for Mom and Daddy. What you just said, that's just the sweetest, truest thing anyone ever said to me; now I think back on it, I don't remember Carlo ever once telling me he loved me, but you, you had no hesitation, and that's how I know I love you too, Johnny B; God help me, but I'm in love with my brother!"

John stared at her in shock, his heart thudding in his chest, and soaring away when she looked back up at him; her gaze was clear and direct, her heart in her eyes, and he saw the truth of her words.

"So what we do now, baby-girl?" he managed to croak.

"This!" grinned Justine, surging forward to lock her arms around his neck as her lips met his in a searing, crushing, heartfelt kiss that blew all his switches open, leaving him dazed and astounded, his head ringing and his heart thundering all over again with the power of her kiss. As she kissed him, she undulated on his lap, feeling him pulse and stiffen under her as she rubbed herself against him.

"Why mercy-me, Jean-Bastiènne Deaucette, I do believe you're feelin' somethin' round about now!" she breathed when she finally broke their kiss, her eyes dancing with suppressed glee as she mimicked him once again, this time with another wriggle against him, just to let him know she could feel what was happening to him. John held her away for a second so he could say something.

"Justy, I know I said what I said, and I know what I want from you, more'n anythin' in the world, but still one thing standing 'tween us; you a married woman, you got a husband, you made vows, what about..."

Justine silenced him with a finger on his lip.

"Shush Johnny; I know what I vowed, and I remember what Carlo vowed too. Johnny, he hasn't touched me in maybe three years, not after he realized I wasn't going to do any of those nasty, dirty things he demanded I do for him, like I was some cheap, slutty sex-toy he owned. He doesn't really love me, he never did, and he doesn't want me anyway; our vows mean nothing; they never did. I was a transaction, a way to get his hands on Daddy's business, Mom's insurance money, everything I had; I see that now. When my money ran out, he was done with me; he's got someone else, anyway; he talks about someone called 'Gina' when he's drunk, and all the nasty things he does with her when they're together. He's done with me, he's already replaced me, I don't owe him shit, so now I'm done with him too."

She paused to cup his face in her small hands.

"You were right Johnny, about everything, but thank you; when you had every reason to say something, you kept shut, and you let me make my mistakes, and work it out for myself. You've always respected my right to be wrong, and you've always been there for me the way Carlo should have been, and never has, and so Carlo and me, we're over, finished, finito, done. I don't love him; I love you."

Johnny looked at her closely, at her eyes and her expression, for any signs or hints of holding back, but there were none; she was telling the truth when she declared her love for him, and his heart did handstands and cartwheels at the realization she was his, and his alone.

"So what next, baby-girl?" he whispered, and grinned as he felt her small hands tugging his white tee-shirt out of his chinos.

"Big John, you and me, we've got some things we need to get straight between us," she grinned, before silencing him with a kiss. She grabbed a handful of his tee shirt.

"First off, though, I wanna see the rest of what I'm getting!"

John colored when he realized what she meant, even as he held up his arms for her to tug the thin material over his head and off his arms, to throw it across the room. Justine grinned naughtily when she looked at the expression on his face.

"Why Big John B,"she exclaimed in a shocked voice, "I do believe you're embarrassed at bein' bare-assed nekkid in front of li'l ole me! Don't blush, baby, I won't bite you...not yet, anyway!" she couldn't help adding, watching the color rise in his cheeks until even his ears were pink. Her big, hunky, bayou man-babe of a brother could be so innocent and unworldly sometimes, so more teasing was definitely in order...

"Stop staring and start doing, Johnny..." her soft voice broke him out of his trance-like stare, but her lips were curved in her warm smile, and her eyes were wide and amused.

Johnny slowly unbuttoned her shirt, watching himself doing what he'd fantasized so long, not really believing he was doing this, and waiting for the alarm to start beeping and wake him from this dream. And then her blouse was unbuttoned and she was shrugging it off her slim shoulders, her small, firm breasts in her thin white bra bobbing enticingly with the movement.