The Broussard Sisters Ch. 11

"And then, we're going up in a helicopter; they... He's a helicopter pilot," Kelli went on.

"Just remember, you got work tomorrow morning," Alicia said and smiled down as Richard LaPointe and Gabrielle and Daisy Florez ran past them.

"Oh yes ma'am," Kelli smiled. "I reminded them 'I've got work, can't have my butt dragging.'"

They approached the doors that led onto the fenced in area and Alicia stepped out into the hot August sun. The squeals and screams and laughter of children were overwhelming but Alicia seemed to not notice the calamity all around her as she surveyed all of her children.

----

"Yo, bitch, what you get me?" the gang member laughed as the elderly woman carried her shopping bag up the sidewalk.

"Didn't get you nothing," she screeched at him. "You keep your hands off my stuff!"

"Aw now bitch, that ain't nice," the boy laughed.

"I mean it, you hooligan, you keep your hands off my stuff!" the old woman screamed.

"Hey, hey, ain't got to get all loud and shit," the boy said and punched the old woman in her face.

Richard came up behind the boy and put his boot up between the boy's legs. Even the baggy material of the boy's jeans did not protect his genitals from the vicious blow.

"Help! Help!" the old woman screamed, bruised nose spurting blood.

A well aimed kick to the boy's head and he quit grunting and thrashing on the ground.

"Here you go, ma'am," Richard said and helped the old woman to her feet.

"Please, don't take my stuff; that's all I got to eat," the old woman sobbed and pleaded with Richard.

"Ma'am, I ain't going to take your stuff," Richard said gently to the terrified, disoriented woman.

He helped her get her bearings and made sure she arrived at her dilapidated home.

"What's your name?" she asked as she fished a dollar bill out of her wallet.

"Ma'am, its best if you don't know my name," Richard said and graciously accepted the dollar bill. "Might want to get someone to look at that nose for you, though."

----

Michelle had directed Nadia Doyeski to speak with Elizabeth; Elizabeth kept her anger with Michelle from showing as she welcomed the attractive blonde and her two year old daughter into her office.

Ever since her 'discussion' with Michelle, the receptionist had kept her voice professional on the telephone, and stayed off the computer games. But any client that looked like they'd be even the slightest bit difficult or challenging, Michelle steered them right to Elizabeth.

After introductions, which included Elizabeth fussing over the cute toddler, Nadia got to the point; her truck was damaged beyond repair.

Elizabeth looked at the invoice and at the photographs of the damaged truck.

She knew George's Garage, knew them to be honest and trustworthy. She also knew that Leah's husband, John was the owner of the garage after Mr. George had died.

"So there's not no problem, right?" Nadia Doyeski asked and again uncrossed and crossed her legs.

"Just a question about the police report," Elizabeth said.

"What police report?" Nadia asked, leaning forward, giving Elizabeth an unobstructed view down the front of Nadia's loose halter top.

Elizabeth could see the glint of gold; Nadia's nipples were pierced. She looked up into the frightened blue eyes of the policy holder.

"Precisely," Elizabeth smiled tightly. "Where is the police report? I mean, you tell me this guy hit you, that he ran a red light, and then fled the scene of the accident, but where's the police report? You did call the police, right?"

"Well no,' Nadia said. "How could I? He left!"

"Ma'am, you still need to call the police, regardless of whether or not he stayed or not," Elizabeth sighed.

"But, but," Nadia stuttered.

"Let me see what I can do," Elizabeth said. "When did you say this happened?"

Nadia sat back in her chair and tried to think. Her position left the bottom of her shorts exposed and Elizabeth could see that the young woman wore white lace panties. Nadia again crossed her legs and Elizabeth tore her eyes from Nadia's lace covered crotch and looked at the blonde woman's face.

"The eighteenth; I had just gotten back from Deonia's doctor visit and that was on the eighteenth and we was on our way back and I had to stop at Early's Grocery store 'because Deonia was out of apple juice and she joust loves apple juice and...." Nadia prattled.

Elizabeth picked up the telephone and called George's garage. If Nadia noticed, it did not stop her rambling monologue.

"Thanks, Mr. Farmer," Elizabeth smiled and hung up.

She then called Huvall's Texaco, in Bender. Nadia continued talking.

"...And that's when it happened and I barely made it to the parking lot before the wheel fell off," Nadia finished when Elizabeth hung up the telephone.

"Uh huh," Elizabeth said and called Captain Charles Velleaux of the DeGarde Police Department.

She concluded the telephone call and smiled at Nadia.

"Okay, you need to go down to the police department; it's on Lee Road, right off Highway 19 and fill out a police report; they'll help you. Then bring it back here and we'll get this finished up, okay?"

"Um, okay," Nadia said.

"You're Sonja Doyeski's sister, huh?" Elizabeth asked as Nadia got her things together.

"Yes, actually, we're twins," Nadia smiled tightly.

"I'm a twin also," Elizabeth smiled.

"Really?" Nadia asked, smile relaxing, becoming a true smile.

"Yeah, a brother, though," Elizabeth said.

"You're so lucky," Nadia said. "A brother would have been cool, instead of a stupid sister who thinks she's some kind of big shot."

"Brother Thought he was a big shot too," Elizabeth smiled and fussed over Deonia a little more while Nadia stuffed a juice bottle into her diaper bag.

----

"Remember, I got that meeting tonight," Elaine told her husband as he prepared to leave the house.

"And it's at..." he asked.

"Six thirty; shouldn't take longer than two, three hours," Elaine said and playfully pinched his buttock. "I mean, Mom's coming over but no dilly dallying, hear?"

"Yeah, I dilly dally all the time, huh?" he asked, smiling.

"Yep, all the time," she agreed and laughed as he returned the butt pinch.

Elaine had been campaigning for her step-father as he ran for re-election for Sheriff of Bender. She walked door to door, handed out brochures, gave impassioned speeches and gave interviews to radio and television stations.

"Lala LaPointe is golden said Charlotte Hebert, head of the Lafayette Republican Committee. "Young, pretty, devoted mother and wife."

At first Elaine was highly amused when Charlotte Hebert approached her.

"Look, lady, I barely finished high school," Elaine laughed. "And, running around after three kids? I don't even have time to think, much less be a politician."

"Honey, believe me, you're perfect; you are exactly what we need," Charlotte hastened to assure Elaine.

A seat had been vacated on the St. Elizabeth Parish Council when Cecil Coutre died.

Elaine agreed to run for the vacant seat; it met twice a month, for two to three hours a meeting, at night.

"Plus, it pays a thousand a month; who doesn't need a few extra bucks, huh?" Charlotte pressed.

Sherrie Lambert, the Democratic nominee had no chance; she was a severely overweight, shrill forty-something. Elaine was young, attractive, personable and warm.

Judge Harold Monroe welcomed the idea of having the young, sexy woman representing Bender on the council. So did Jesse Johnson; Elaine's breasts were impressive indeed.

Shelly O'Neil represented Baylor Lake on the council. The obviously homosexual was largely ignored by Judge Monroe and Jesse. So too was Pierre Thibodaux, the representative of Jazz Beach, a very narrow strip of land right on the coast of Louisiana.

"Nothing but fishing camps and boat docks out there," Jesse muttered.

"People live there, yeah," Pierre insisted in his thick Cajun accent.

Cheryl Marneaux, the Flowers representative, did whatever Judge Monroe suggested; the sixty one year old widow did not have an opinion of her own. Which was the specific reason Judge Monroe had hand-picked her for the council seat.

Donald Pellichet was the fly in the ointment, the thorn in the side. The black lawyer represented Kimble and would argue and argue any point until finally Judge Monroe would demand a vote. If there was a tie of the six person council, Judge Monroe would cast the deciding vote.

"The dumb cunt should be easy enough to talk to," Jesse assured Judge Monroe. "Fuck, Lala barely even finished high school. And what the fuck kind of name is 'Lala' anyway?"

"A nick name, I would presume," Judge Monroe said dryly. "Her real name is Elaine."

Her first meeting, however, both Judge Monroe and Jesse Johnson saw that they'd misjudged the very attractive young lady.

"Honey, you need anything, you got any questions, you don't be afraid to ask, okay?" Jesse said, resting his meaty paw on Elaine's buttock.

"Thanks," she beamed up at him. "Now, get your hand off my ass."

"Hey, hey, just trying to welcome..." Jesse protested, but did not move his hand.

Elaine brought the heel of her shoe down hard on Jesse's well shod foot and ground her heel in for good measure.

"I said, 'get your hand off my ass,'" she repeated, loud enough for everyone in the large conference room to hear her.

"Aahh!" Jesse sucked in great lungful of air, unable to scream or cry out.

"And I suppose we should now bring this meeting to order," Judge Monroe said as Jesse groaned and hobbled around, trying hard not to cry out.

Secretly, he was amused; Jesse Johnson may be his cohort, his confidant in matters relating to running St. Elizabeth Parish, but Judge Monroe regarded Jesse Johnson as an idiot and a buffoon. Truthfully, Judge Monroe regarded everyone as buffoons, very much below his intellect and stature.

"Oh God, I hope I'm not late, Shelly simpered as he dashed in.

Now, can we begin this meeting?" Judge Monroe huffed, expecting precise punctuality out of his council members.

"Oh God, bitch, I better not have any broken bones, you hear?" Jesse grunted as he gingerly sat in his seat directly across from Elaine at the long table.

"I told you to get your hand off of me, you did not," Elaine said easily. "And, do not call me bitch. I do not appreciate such derogatory language, do you understand?"

"Well, now, you're getting off on the right foot," Donald Pellichet laughed. And held out his hand. "Donald Pellichet, Kimble Representative."

"Lala Lapointe, Bender rep," Elaine smiled and shook his hand.

"Fucking N*gger," Jesse mumbled under his breath.

"Want to say that out loud, tough guy?" Donald yelled at Jesse. "Huh, big man? Want to say that out loud? To my face?"

Ethel Yaks, a tall, bone thin red head with a horrible hair style and thin face a splotch of freckles, sat, waiting to take the minutes of the meeting.

"Again, let us now call the meeting to order," Judge Monroe barked, thoroughly disgusted at all the interruptions.

"Uh huh, that's what I thought," Donald glared at Jesse.

Elaine watched as Ethel read the minutes of the last meeting. She grimaced as the woman constantly looked to Judge Monroe for his approval.

If Jesse and Judge Monroe thought Donald Pellichet was a pain in the ass, he was a sweetheart compared to Lala Lapointe. She questioned every motion, every expenditure, even those of her new friend, Donald.

"Honey, we don't have time to explain everything to you," Jesse grumbled, trying to belittle her.

"You'd better find the time; a lot of people expect me to do something besides just sit in this chair and pick my nose," Elaine stated firmly. "And I'm sure they'd like to know why we're accepting a higher bid when Clark's bid is nearly nine thousand dollars less."

"There are extenuating..." Judge Monroe cut in.

"There was a factory shut-down in Bender," Elaine interrupted him. "A major source of employment and income and taxes for Bender, DeGarde, Flowers, Kimble and other neighboring areas. The 'extenuating circumstances' are this, Your Honor. Income from taxes will be coming down and will continue to drop. We don't have the wherewithal to play 'good old boy' and 'brother-in-law' deals."

Jesse seethed; Keith Blanchard had slipped him a tidy little sum of cash for his vote.

Judge Monroe pursed his lips; Keith Blanchard had brought a sweet little blonde from Texas; the girl swore she was only eighteen. She cooed and giggled as Judge Monroe had slapped her ass, then fucked her hot little blonde muff.

"I agree, yeah," Pierre said. "I done had three camps just up and gone; they can't afford to come around no more."

"If I may," Judge Monroe cleared his throat and again tried to persuade the council to vote for Blanchard's proposal.

"Apples to apples?" Elaine said, shaking her blonde head. "It does not make a bit of sense to approve Blanchard's bid. Period."

Elaine was sure that tonight's meeting would be more of the same; Judge Monroe, even though he was supposed to simply moderate the meeting, would foist his opinions on the council, try to dictate to them how they should vote. Jesse Johnson would push his own agenda and try to squash any other agenda that might be brought up. He would also try to squash any opposition to his agenda.

----

"Okay," Bernie said as she fastened the nurse's cap on her profuse bush of hair. "You about ready?"

"Uh huh," Richard said, his erection quite evident.

"Honey, you get a stiffie every time I put on my uniform?" Bernie giggled

"Damn right," Richard said.

"Well, it'll have to wait until morning, okay?" Bernie said, kissing him happily.

"Fine, fine," Richard playfully complained.

He took a quarter out of his pocket and threw it on the floor in front of her.

"Oops, looks like you dropped a quarter there, Honey," Richard said.

"Uh uh!" Bernie laughed. "Ain't no way I'm bending over to pick that up! Not in front of you!"

----

The Very Reverend Zechariah Smith watched as the blonde and the brunette wandered his used car lot. Time and again, they'd return to the Toyota Tundra.

"Want to take it for a spin?" he asked, opening the door to the sales office.

The heat of the August afternoon nearly staggered him, but he pasted a smile on his pudgy face and waddled to the two young ladies.

"Sinful, just sinful," he muttered to himself, looking at their short shorts and halter tops that left a goodly portion of their midsection exposed. "Displaying their flesh without a care in the world. They're both going to Hell; they'll both be Satan's whores, but do they care?"

"Hi; bought my pick up here, oh, about four years ago?" Dee Jones said, smiling.

"Yeah, then I got it totaled," Nadia chimed in.

"Oh, no! I hope you weren't hurt?" Reverend Smith asked, patting the blonde girl's hand in condolence.

"No, no, scared me a lot, though," Nadia agreed.

"Oh, I'll bet," Reverend Smith agreed.

"Yeah, some drunk goober ran a red light and hit me," Nadia said.

"How much?" Dee asked, indicating the truck.

He named a price and Nadia shrugged.

"Open it up?" Dee asked.

He watched as the two girls bent over the hood, scrambled into the rear compartment, squatted and looked underneath the truck.

Their gyrations let the man know that they both had pierced nipples and the brunette was not wearing panties. The blonde, at least had the decorum to wear a plain white thong.

"Okay," Dee said to Nadia. "Take it for a drive; I'll watch Deonia. Come back, tell me what you think."

Reverend Smith looked over at the BMW the girls had come in and noticed a sleeping toddler in the back seat of the car.

"Oh, what a darling little baby," he lied, not finding anything cute about babies at all. "Yours?"

"Yes, well, Nadia's her mom, but we're raising her," Dee said easily.

"Oh!" Reverend Smith said, comprehending.

To himself he muttered, "so, not only are you two harlots, you're also deviants. Yes, Satan will welcome the two of you with open arms."

Nadia came back and announced that she did like the truck.

"All right we take it down to George's Garage; have them looked it over?" Dee asked the rotund man.

"Well now, I don't rightly trust George's; they're not, ah, how shall I say this?" he intoned, pursing his lips. "They're not exactly on the up and up, know what I mean?"

"Really?' Dee asked him, smirking slightly. "Then why'd you tell me to use them and only them? When I bought the last truck from you?"

"Ah, well," he stammered slightly. "That was what? Four years ago? They uh, well, since then, you see, they've gone through a few rough spots and uh..."

"Okay, one more time, it okay if we take it down to George's and let Mr. Farmer take a look at it?" Dee asked.

"Well, if you're going to do that, I'd prefer it if you'd use the people at Huvall's Texaco, right there on..." Reverend Smith said.

Huvall's had approached Reverend Smith with a 'business proposition,' send his business their way and they'd give his cars a clean bill of health. George's Garage would do no such thing, unless the car did have a clean bill of health. Otherwise, they'd tell the client exactly what they were buying.

"I wouldn't let those idiots work on my bicycle," Dee snorted.

"You know, there was that pick up truck over at Cutter's? The one in Baylor Lake? that real pretty blue one?" Nadia reminded Dee.

The Reverend knew that, as more and more people fell onto hard times, his lot and Cutter's lot would be flooded with used cars. More used cars meant that his prices would have to come down if he was going to keep afloat.

"Last chance; it okay if we take it to George's and let Mr. Farmer look at it?" Dee asked, fishing her car keys out of her pocket.

"Fine, fine, but anything he says, I want it in writing," Reverend Smith bluffed.

"Uh huh," Dee said and handed her car keys to Nadia. "Meet you down there; I want to see how this truck handles."

Reverend Smith had to adjust his trousers; when Dee climbed into the cab of the pick up truck, her shorts gaped open, displaying her hairless pubic mound, pale pink pussy lips, and several bright gold rings to his lecherous gaze.

"Won't be long; he's already expecting us," Nadia called out to Dee.

"Good," Dee acknowledged.

"Well, little Miss Smarty Pants," Reverend Smith muttered as Dee drove the truck off the lot. "I'll get it out of you in the financing charges."

----

"Ashes to ashes," Father Gregory chanted in a hollow monotone.

Paul, Cindy, and Pam sobbed and clung to each other at the gravesite. Next to them, Jake and Bobbi Broussard clung to each other as their daughter was laid to rest.

"Why?" Paul asked aloud, for the millionth time.

And for the millionth time, no one had any answer.

"Bye bye Candy," Rebecca Robichaux quietly said to her sister in law.

"Again, I have no words to tell you how truly sorry I am," Father Gregory quietly told the sobbing family.

The priest walked away, leaving the mourners to their grief. Little by little, individuals and small clusters of people also left. Finally, it was just Paul, Cindy, Pam, Trish, Jake and Bobbi and Jacob, Bob, Marie and Rebecca and Emily Broussard.

Paul hefted his son up onto his shoulders and smiled sadly as the boy giggled happily.

"I big!" Paulie cheered.

"Yeah, boy, you are," Paul agreed and carried him to the Toyota.

"We'll take Barbara," Pam offered, already buckling the infant into the car seat of Trish's car.

"Where to?" Cindy asked quietly.

"Fuck, I don't know," Paul said.

"Home?" Cindy asked.

Paul looked at her for a long moment, and then looked out the window.

"Yeah, Baby, take me home," he said.

Cindy started the car, felt more nausea well up, then quickly opened the car door and vomited onto the ground.

Ooh!" she groaned as her stomach emptied onto the ground.