The Thrill is Gone

Summary: More flashbacks and explanations. And Remy receives a grim reminder of why his past could hurt him.

Author’s Note: I’m sorry I’ve been away from this story for so long. I lose track of it so quickly after each upload, from my usual problem with tapestry syndrome and all of my other fics, sketches, paintings that are all unfinished, and real life that inevitably sucks. I just got back from Comic-Con, too, and that actually gave me some inspiration. So we’ll see!

*

Seven years ago:

“Whaddya mean, yer goin’ out?” Bella stood with her arms folded, indignant as she watched Remy move about their bedroom.

“I mean what it sounds like. Remy’s goin’ out. Deal wit’ it.”

“Non. Uh-uh. You deal wit’ it, chere. S’ my turn t’go out. You went out last week.”

“And Remy’s goin’ out again.”

“Non. My friends called me first. I had plans first. Dat means Remy’s de one stayin’ home.”

“Bullshit. Dat means Bella can tell her friends ‘not tonight.’”

“Naw. No ya don’t,” she threatened, blue eyes snapping with anger. Remy huffed, grabbing his cologne from the drawer and spraying a liberal amount across his chest, abdomen and neck.

“Iron dis shirt, it’s wrinkled.” He tossed a black pullover at her. She let it hit the floor.

“Don’ have to, if ya ain’t goin’ anywhere, Remy! It’s MY turn t’go out!”

“Shoulda t’ought ‘bout dat earlier, chere, and called a sitter.”

“No, YOU shoulda called a sitter. Ya knew I wuz goin’ out tonight!” Bella was done with being calm. She jabbed her finger into his chest. “Been plannin’ dis all week long! Already have my friends comin’ over in fifteen minutes.”

“Dat’s bullshit. Anna Marie’s always runnin’ late. Try an hour,” Remy challenged, but irritation seeped into his voice despite his best “kiss my ass” grin. “Plenty of time t’get a sitter.”

“Rene’s asleep. Ain’t any trouble fo’ Remy t’jus’ stay here. I ain’t gonna wake him.”

“Dat’s fine. Stay here, won’ be nuthin’ t’worry about, chere.”

“Asshole!” she hissed.

“Dat wuzn’t very nice,” Remy claimed.

“Ain’t gotta be nice. M’goin’ out.” Bella continued getting ready, retreating to the bathroom to continue working on her hair. Remy sputtered, smile gone now.

“Yer stayin’ home. I’m goin’ ta watch de match. Nate bought it on Pay per View.”

“Tell Nate yer sorry, den. I’m goin’ out. Wouldn’t hafta go out wit’ Anna Marie if someone would take me out ev’ry now an’ again. Fuck you and yer fight.”

Remy’s face darkened with anger. His eyes were so dilated they were almost black. “Non. YOU look.” He backed her up until her ass hit the edge of the bathroom sink.

“Back de fuck up,” Bella hissed, nonplussed.

“Listen,” he hissed through his teeth, “ya can go out any ot’er night but dis one, Bella. Yer stayin’ home. It’s as simple as dat.”

“Sonofa-“ She had her hand raised to slap him, and Bella gripped the hair dryer tightly in the other when someone knocked sharply on the door.

Bella fumed. It was all she could do to remain cool enough to answer the door, which she did only after mouthing the words Fuck off at him on her way down the hall.

It was always a power play. Rene was nearly a year old, and Remy and Bella were already diverging in different directions. Bella was restless and frustrated in the wake of Remy’s betrayal. Remy felt the same, and his guilt still didn’t outweigh the inevitable, namely that they didn’t have enough to go on anymore, to justify staying together.

He could have let her go out. Nate called him at the last minute, after he originally said he wasn’t going to order the fight the week before. It was an afterthought on Remy’s part to tell him he’d come. The world wouldn’t end, the sky wouldn’t fall, and Nate wouldn’t shed a tear if Remy begged off.

But he needed to get out of the apartment for the night and not think about the shambles of his marriage, or wallow in the fact that it was his fault.

Bella wanted to go out. Dance, drink, laugh and have adult conversations with someone who wasn’t a pediatrician or her mother; all of that was on her to-do list. For a few hours, she wanted to pretend and forget. Her friends wouldn’t disappear if she didn’t go out for one night, certainly; they’d waited this long, several months since the last time she’d taken them up on an invitation.

All of her fledgling plans went out the window as she eyed the state trooper in his beige uniform. Belladonna’s scowl evaporated, replaced by ugly shock. A cold, leaden knot settled in her stomach.

“Are you Belladonna Beudreaux?”

“Oui,” she said, nodding numbly. If she thought it odd that he used her maiden name, she gave no sign.

“I’m here to talk to you about your brother,” he said carefully, taking a moment to peer down at a slip of paper in his hand, “Julien?”

“Oh, my God, what happened?” she choked, and her eyes grew wild.

“May I come in?”

One of Remy’s worst nightmares was unfolding before his eyes. He froze in the doorway of the hall as the trooper entered their modest living room. Belladonna cleared some of Rene’s toys from the couch as she sat down. Her knees felt weak, and the officer’s appearance in her home felt surreal and unwelcome.

“And you are?”

“Remy,” he muttered.

“Okay…are you the brother-in-law?”

“Yeah.” Remy’s voice was hoarse and whisper-soft, but the ones in his head were screaming at him in cold panic.

“I’m asking because Julien is in custody. He said the two of you live with him here, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Belladonna said, still disbelieving. Tears shone in her eyes, and Remy really did want to go to her, to comfort her, but her back was up, and her posture was stiff and unnatural. She toyed with the hem of her long sweater. Remy foolishly admitted that she’d taken pains with her appearance when she thought she was going out.

It was moot, now. They weren’t going anywhere.

He felt wave after wave of tension and anguish radiating from her, a sense of betrayal and disappointment, and the death of hope, most disturbing of all. Julien was her older brother. On some level, Bella had hoped he would fly straight and follow a straighter path. She’d worshipped him as a little girl, even when he’d teased her. They were close in age, and like all siblings, they were each all the other would have left as they reached their later years when spouses or children left and parents passed from this world.

Julien was supposed to take care of her, as he always had. He was supposed to close her window at night to keep out the Boogey Man, since he had a special fondness for gobbling up little blonde girls. He was supposed to stake out her locker and mock her ruthlessly every time a boy approached looking for a phone number, making her less appealing to anyone who would compromise her virtue. And everyone was that “anyone.”

She wasn’t supposed to be the older sister, a role he’d forced her to play over time.

She couldn’t turn a blind eye or remain blissful in her ignorance. The evidence was tucked gently in the trooper’s hand.

“I have a search warrant here. Your brother Julien cooperated with us when we asked him to sign it. If he hadn’t, we would have had to take a more aggressive approach when we came here. We need to search your apartment for illegal substances.”

“Why, sir?” Remy asked. His stomach twisted, bringing him dangerously close to releasing his bowels. The officer was clean-cut and forcing his stern-featured face into civil lines, but his eyes were hard. Remy felt his lack of sympathy and his suspicion, knowing the man had to do his job. And that he did it well.

“Your brother in law admitted to driving your vehicle. I have the registration number and plates listed here.” He handed Remy a pink copy of the citation, and he read the carbon copy scrawl of his car’s ID at the bottom. The paper seemed to grow hot in his hands. They were shaking.

“We stopped him when he was doing eighty miles per hour when the speed limit was fifty-five. We were already concerned that he was driving that fast. But when we signaled to him to pull over, he complied, but we noticed that he appeared to be reaching into the back of the car to conceal something. We immediately asked him to step out of the car. He was initially reluctant.”

Remy had no doubt of that in his mind. He fumed, cursing Julien.

“We found a bag of marijuana and arrested him on charges of possession with intent to sell. There was a generous amount of it there.” Bella’s face crumpled, and she smothered a sob behind her hands.

“So what now?”

“We search your home. I’ll be in and out with my flashlight. I want you two to wait out here. Go on about what you were doing before I got here, if you like, but let me search uninterrupted.” He asked as an afterthought, “Is anyone else here?”

“Jus’ de baby,” Belladonna said.

“Is he sleeping?”

“Oui.”

“Could you go ahead and pick him up, then? I hate to bother the little guy’s sleep, but I need to search his room, too.”

Remy’s heart fell at the very thought of drugs in his child’s nursery, a sacred place where he was supposed to remain safe, loved and untouched by the evils of the world. What made it worse was that Julien adored his nephew, and the feeling was mutual. He doted on him and spoiled him with attention.

That made this so much worse.

Belladonna silently went into Rene’s room and collected him from his crib. The baby’s neck felt sweaty against her cheek and his small body was still pleasantly warm wrapped his footed, blanket sleeper. She breathed in his sweet scent, Johnson’s soothing baby bath conbined with cornstarch powder. Remy itched to take him from her, but she had a desperate look in her eye, almost feverish.

The trooper perused the apartment, keeping the lights in each bedroom turned off as he went through it with his flashlight. Remy and Belladonna sat and watched the recap of a Nicks game, completely uninterested in it while he worked. She rocked and patted Rene’s back needlessly, as he was still sound asleep.

His son’s face was precious, still baby-plump with his soft pink mouth gapping open a bit as he gently snored. Cold fear washed over Remy.

The officer could find drugs in their home.

And they could send someone over to take Rene.

Belladonna cried silently, and her eye makeup ran down her cheeks in thick rivers, looking stark as blood against her pale, creamy skin.

The trooper finished his search, then asked permission to search Belladonna’s car, their spare. He found nothing, for which she was grateful, but Remy still felt a keen sense of betrayal.

Family dragged them all into this. He wanted to throw something.

*


Now:

Logan sat back on his haunches and wiped his brow on his sleeve. He removed the conical particulate mask to allow some cool air to hit his dusty face. Even though he loved swinging a sledgehammer, he never knew what crap he was breathing in whenever they demo’d an older piece of property.

Scott entered the gutted living room with two bottles of Gatorade Ice, handing him one. Logan uncapped it and gulped it down noisily, groaning in relief.

“Tongue was stuck ta the roof of my mouth,” he muttered.

“I’m whipped,” Scott agreed,” but it’s looking good.”

“I might wanna pack it in before six.”

“That’s fine. We’re good for it. We’re a little ahead already.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Logan reminded him. He rose, stretching stiff muscles and rotating a slightly sore shoulder. “That’s tight,” he complained. Scott smirked.

“Too much for ya, old man?”

“That’s enough outta you.”

But he admitted to himself that a long shower sounded good, perhaps too good. It was growing harder lately to get up in the morning.

Logan didn’t want to even consider that it had anything to do with his sleepless nights.

As though he read his mind, Scott asked him “You look kinda out of it. You okay?”

“Eh.”

“You just seem worn out. More drawn.”

“I’m fine,” Logan grumbled, removing his baseball cap and scrabbling his fingers through his hair. He gulped down some more sports drink and leaned back against one of the only intact walls.

“Heard from Colleen lately?”

“Nah.”

“Maybe you could give her a call. Go do something.”

“We weren’t each other’s cup of tea,” Logan reminded him.

“She could be,” Scott cajoled.

“Summers…uh-uh. ‘Nuff.”

Scott sighed, then threw up his hands. “C’mon, man. How long is it gonna be til you settle down?”

“Why do ya married guys always get up on yer friggin’ high horse with that shit?”

“Misery loves company, asshole.” Logan snorted. “Nah. Seriously. We’ve gotta find you a woman.”

Logan prepared to ignore him, heading for his lunch pack in the other room.

“You’re not getting any younger,” Scott continued. “And one of these days, you might wake up in the morning and get sick of the other side of the bed being empty.”

“Ain’t got anything ta do with settlin’ down, bub. Anyone can wake up next ta me in bed.”

“I mean without telling them ‘I’ll call you’ or waiting for the novelty to wear off.”

“Didn’t think the novelty ever wore off of sex, Summers.” Scott walked up and smacked him upside the back of his head. “Hey, easy!”

“C’mon, let me fix you up with another one of Lee’s friends.”

“Get outta here with that shit. Look…ya mean well, I got that. But lay off. I just need a break.”

“It’s been a long time since Silver left you.”

But not that long since I left Walt. Yer omittin’ a few things again, bub.

“Things ain’t all that bad right now, Slim. I’ve got a decent life. I like what I do and where I’m at fer now. I can come and go as I please, and I don’t have ta account ta anyone else but me. Yer lookin’ at a guy who can leave the toilet seat up any time he wants.”

“A regular king of his castle.”

“Damn straight.”

“What about kids? Any plans to duplicate yourself?”

“Because that’s what the world needs so badly.”

“What the heck, why not?” Then Scott looked smug. “Your rug rats can keep mine company and raise a little hell together.”

“That’s scary.”

“Don’t be such a chicken.”

“Maybe kids are fine fer you, bub, but I ain’t necessarily daddy material.”

“How about godfather material, then?” Suddenly Scott’s smile broadened.

“Ya smug sonofabitch! Lee’s expecting?”

“We’re having a little Summers,” he replied.

“That’s great. Congrats, Slim. Lee’ll make a great mom.” Logan clapped him on the back. “Impending daddyhood looks good on ya.”

“Thanks.” They sat down and opened up their lunches, unwrapping sandwiches and munching chips. “So it’s a no-go on meeting Lee’s friend, then?”

“Maybe not now,” Logan offered, even though the real answer was a definite no.


Logan left the job site just as the sun began to set. The conversation with Scott made itself a nuisance, niggling and poking at him as he entered his apartment.

Rene was a great kid. The best. That left the fact that to care for Remy, Logan had to care just as much for his son and realize that to Remy, Rene would always come first. That was a big step to take. The worst part was having to look deep inside himself, and to decide if he was unselfish enough to not only accept it, but to grab onto it and hold on with both hands.

Seeing Rene was bittersweet. For that brief moment when the boy called out to him, smiling so radiantly and running to him, Logan felt a warmth infuse him, growing in his chest and trickling into his veins. This was someone who wasn’t playing games with his emotions, his affection was genuine and it touched him. Children didn’t lie. Rene possessed his father’s brightest, best traits and was even more than the sum of his parts, he decided, after meeting Belladonna.

So that left the question: Did Remy lie?

There was so much risk. Logan didn’t know if he already got off at the right stop, before it took him too far or he ended up lost.

If he stayed with Remy, whatever other secrets he had could burn him. And if he formed a genuine relationship with him, then he also became a regular fixture in Rene’s life, too, and by that same token, risked disappointing him if he had to leave.

He pondered that while the hot, hard spray pounded his back in the shower.

Remy didn’t come right out and say that wasn’t pot in his car. So in that regard, he didn’t lie. But in the meantime, what on earth could he be hiding about it? I smoked it, but I didn’t inhale? Logan’s sigh was rusty and annoyed.

Why, Remy?

On some level, he knew he had a past, some dark spots on his soul that still burned. He saw that remembered pain in Remy’s eyes beneath the laughter and flirting. Something deep had to have left it there.

Logan dried off and dressed in a pair of pajama bottoms and no shirt. He made his way out to his favorite chair and punched the remote, losing himself in ESPN.

Rene has said it was his birthday soon.

Logan couldn’t remember the first, or even the last time he’d gone to a kiddie party for any of his friends that had children. He was almost grateful; nothing made a man feel more out of place than a room full of moms trading recipes and talking about scrapbooking while the kids wreaked havoc.

Despite his decision, Logan wondered briefly what kind of gift a guy got for an eight year old kid.


*

Remy stared at his cell phone for the third time in the past half hour, then tucked it back into his coveralls again.

No. He wouldn’t call him.

Anything he could have said to fix things should have been said right away. Remy kicked himself, but again, knew this was probably for the best.

If he explained that it was Julien who was doing drugs in his car, he would have to explain who he was, and what kind of involvement he had in his past. And he’d be wandering into dangerous territory.

Telling Logan now, once the incident had the chance to grow cold, would make Logan think he needed time to form excuses or spin him a yarn.

And he didn’t need that. What they two of them had was fun, but it was young, still in its infancy and easily put to rest. They weren’t obligated to each other yet. They didn’t have to account to each other or be the other’s keeper.

But why did it hurt?

He knew they’d likely go their separate ways, so why was it so difficult?

Remy knew their one-night stand could have remained merely that, that it could have lasted only one night. He hated waking up to empty sheets again, dismayed to find that it wasn’t just because of the lack of sex. Certainly it was important…

He’d grown used to him. Logan felt so good, so right snuggled against his back or with his chest rising and falling beneath Remy’s cheek. He loved the sound of his deep, raspy voice first thing in the morning or last thing at night. He was easy to be with, and to the extent that he allowed Logan to dig a little deeper, Remy felt like he could be himself around him.

Somewhat.

Remy went back to work on the body of an old blue Chevy, working out a dent in the driver-side door. It felt good to pound on something, and he could barely hear his radio over the racket he was making.

Philippe wandered into the garage and stood by with a drink. “Dat’s what I like ta hear.”

“Lookin’ good,” Remy agreed, wiping his brow. He took a long gulp of the drink his uncle handed him and rotated his shoulder to relieve a knot.

“Sounded like ya were kickin’ someone’s ass in here a lil’ while ago. Got somet’in’ on yer mind?”

“Eh.”

“Dat sounds noncommittal.”

“Dat’s ‘cuz it is.”

“What time’s de party?”

“T’ree.”

“Got ‘im an R/C truck,” his uncle bragged, looking pleased with himself.

“Sounds good.”

“T’ink he’s gonna like it. Bought ‘im a shirt, too, in case Bella gets mad dat ev’ryone got ‘im toys instead of clothes.”

“Dat’s fine.”

“How is Bella doin’?” he inquired.

“Bout de same.”

“What ‘bout Julien?”

Remy stiffened.

“What’s he doin’?” Philippe’s dark brows drew together. “He back ta his old ways?”

“Ain’t sure.” Remy didn’t like lying to his uncle.

“What’s dat s’posed ta mean?”

“He ain’t always at de house when I head over dere.”

“Dat don’ answer my question.” His uncle sighed and sat on the bench by the door. “I don’ like ‘im bein’ back in de picture, Remy. Ya know dat.”

“Bella knows better,” Remy agreed. “Took forever t’get ‘im outta our lives, den she lets him back in. He’s family.”

“So’s Rene. Her fils is mo’ important den her frere, non?”

“Oui.” Remy sighed. “Dat ain’t stopped her before from givin’ him more chances den he deserves.”

“Yer his pere,” Philippe reminded him. “It ain’ up ta Bella t’be de only one in control.”

“I know, but-“

“Non, yer actin’ like ya don’ know. Step up. Get back in dere an’ take Rene from dat house if she ain’ gonna see ‘bout his safety.”

“Bella ain’t a bad mot’er.” He wanted to even say She wasn’t even the worse wife. But there was too much bitterness between them, and Remy wasn’t in the mood to defend her to his uncle.

“She loses credit if she’s gonna keep Rene in de comp’ny of a drug dealer an’ a t’ief.”

Remy’s lips tightened. Philippe clapped him on the shoulder.

“Lemme know if ya need any help, Remy. Love ya. Remember dat. Dat’s what family’s for.” His uncle walked back into the shop. Remy leaned over the hood of the car and closed his eyes, deep in thought.

His cell phone startled him. He scrambled to get it out of his pocket and punched the green call button on the second ring.

“Allo?”

“Rem?”

Remy blinked in surprise. “Logan.”

“Ya busy? I catch ya at a bad time?”

“Non. M’busy, oui, but it ain’t a bad time.”

“I could call ya back.” Logan’s tone made Remy doubt that.

“Listen, I’ve got a minute. Jus’ bein’ honest, mec, I wuz kinda hopin’ ya’d call.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Dere wuz actually two t’ings Remy wanted t’discuss. One’s de night at the theater.”

“Yeah.” Logan sounded wary, but Remy was relieved to be talking to him, just the same. “That’s been on my mind since.”

“Guess it didn’t look good when I didn’ give ya any better an impression den de one ya got.”

“What kind of impression was I supposed ta get, smellin’ weed in yer car?”

“Remy don’t smoke weed.”

“Okay.” Logan’s voice still held a hint of disbelief.

“Like I said, Bella borrowed my car. She brought it back washed and put dat vanilla freshener t’ing in Remy’s dash.”

Logan made a noise in this throat. “Hn.”

“Dat’s what happened. Maybe it sounds like a likely story t’you, mec, but Remy wouldn’ lie t’you.”

Logan sighed. He scratched his nape and searched himself for the proper reaction.

“Ya’ve gotta know how this looks t’me, Remy.”

“Remy knows.”

“Does Bella smoke that shit?”

“No,” Remy snapped, frustrated. But then he realized, of course Logan would ask that.

“Doesn’t leave me with a whole lotta answers, kid.”

“Depends on de kind of answers ya want, homme.”

Logan’s grip tightened on his phone.

“I b’lieve Bella mighta let her frere use my car.”

“He in the habit of gettin’ high? He uses?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wow.”

Remy heard the note of disgust in Logan’s voice and recoiled. This was what he was afraid of. But Logan’s next words calmed him.

“Sometimes folks’ relatives aren’t a good indicator of who they are, y’know? Even though the apple doesn’t always fall far from the tree.”

“Or de nut, in Julien’s case,” Remy muttered. “M’sorry. Remy don’ like drama. Didn’ wanna bring dis ta yer doorstep.”

“Ya didn’t. Not yet. But I was confused. I just…up until that happened, I had a really good impression of ya, Rem.”

“Wuzn’t planning on changin’ dat any time soon. Guess appearances are hard ta keep up.” Logan exhaled through his nose audibly and scratched his chin.

“Then don’t try ta ‘keep up appearances’ with me. If ya feel like there’s anything ta hide from me, Rem, then I don’t wanna put ya through the work.”

“Dat ain’t it, chere!” Remy snapped. “It ain’t dat I wanna hide anyt’in’ from ya…dere’s just old dirty laundry dat I don’ wanna hang out fo’ de world t’see. Everyone’s got a skeleton or two in de closet, non?”

“Got a whole graveyard full of ‘em in mine,” Logan admitted, resigned. “But I feel pretty strongly about people usin’, Rem. It’s a dealbreaker with me.”

Remy’s thoughts raced. How much more would Logan resent him if he knew that his brother in law had been dealing drugs, then, out of his house for so long?

There was a long lull over the phone as they digested each other’s words.

“It wuzn’t mine. Dat’s all ya need t’know, fer now.” Logan didn’t like the “for now.”

“Alright.”

“Maybe ya t’ink dat’s a good place ta leave off, but Remy had one udder t’ing on his mind.”

“Shoot.”

“Rene’s birthday.” He was surprised to hear Logan’s low chuckle.

“Heh. Yeah. It’s funny, I was gonna talk to ya about that. I ran into the crumb snatcher. Kid was all excited.”

“Was he wit Bella?”

“Yup.” He didn’t mention that she gave him the hairy eyeball when he made the introductions. “Mentioned something about Chuck E Cheese.”

“His favorite. It’s Remy’s idea of de Ninth Circle of Hell, but if it makes him happy, den we visit Chucky.”

“Been a while since I played a round of skeeball,” Logan mentioned casually.

“Betcha can’t beat Remy.”

“Betcha I can.”

“Prove it.”

“I will, once ya tell me what Rene likes.”

“T’ink ya already had a pretty good idea wit’ dose movies ya rented, homme.”

“Then I’ll stay in that same vein.”

*

If there was a hell, Logan was certain it would require tickets and involve puppets murdering popular songs. He already felt a headache building up over the bridge of his nose, partly due to the stench of slightly burnt pizza and the low roar of so many electronic games whirring and buzzing around him. The playplace was already crowded and swarming with kids of all ages. Logan tried to be careful where he stepped, not wanting to accidentally tread upon small stocking feet running by when he walked past the large tunnel jungle gym.

But they were definitely having a blast. There was something amusing about seeing toddler-aged kids getting such a thrill out of a one-minute rock on a bus, the easiest entertainment a quarter could buy. Once they got older, things grew so much more complicated and expensive. Two little girls of about two and four years practically knocked him over as they attacked the Crazy Car.

“Vicious,” he muttered. “Sheesh.”

He peered around the room for anything looking like a birthday party and saw balloons in the next suite, where tables were set up to eat.

Logan headed over there and began to several boys roughly Rene’s age, the only kids on the birthday side of the room too cool for party hats. He watched them dart off with cups full of tokens while their mothers sat and chatted protectively around the cake.

“M’SIEU LOGAN!”

Logan found himself attacked from behind before he could even turn around. Rene’s skinny arms glomped him around the waist to the extent that he could reach. Logan felt like he’d just endured the Heimlich maneuver.

“OOF!”

“You came to my party!”

“Sure did, big guy. Good grief, yer strong!”

“I’m eight!” he boasted, grinning. He was such a cute kid, Logan mused.

“Eight year olds get underwear for their birthday,” Logan told him solemnly.

“No they don’t!” he argued.

“You sure?”

“We get toys and video games,” he corrected him.

“No underwear? No socks? No school books?” Logan inquired. Rene made a sour face.

“Uh-uh.”

“Huh…good thing this ain’t underwear, then, or I woulda gotten it all wrong, bub.” Logan handed him an awkwardly wrapped birthday present in Batman paper.

“YAY!”

“RENE!” a feminine voice called out. Logan turned to find Belladonna coming toward them from the jungle gym.

“M’sieu Logan came, Maman!”

“I see dat, petit.” Belladonna eyed him warily. “Did Remy give ya de details?”

“Yup.”

“How d’ya know ‘im again?”

“Acquaintances. Downtown. We both like cars,” he reminded her.

Belladonna turned to Rene. “Sweetie, tell ‘im t’ank you and put de gift on de table.”

“Thank you, Logan!”

“Yer welcome, kiddo.” Logan gave him a fond smile. Belladonna gave Logan an odd look that put his back up once Rene ran off.

“I guess I didn’ make maself clear,” she admitted. “I wanna know what ya are ta Remy. Especially when ya say yer an ‘acquaintance.’”

“I ain’t sure why that’s important.”

“Because Rene talked about ya a lot when we got home this week. Seems ta be pretty attached.”

“He’s a nice boy. Remy brought me with them to the car show. It was nice of him not to mind me spending that time with his dad.”

Logan knew he said too much.

“Ah.”

“Remy made the invitation.”

“Dat’s fine. Jus’ a boy’s day out, non?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did Rene spend de night wit’ de two of ya dat day?”

Logan’s cheeks flamed and his stomach turned leaden.

“That’s a personal question. And no, I didn’t go ta Remy’s that night. He was taking care of Rene. I decided we could meet up some other time.”

“I see.”

“I hope so.”

“Lemme tell ya somet’in,” Belladonna murmured, tugging Logan aside by his jacket sleeve. She leaned over a small table and pointed her finger toward his chest. “I ain’t fond of Remy’s ways towards men. Our marriage fell apart because of it, make no mistake. “

“It’s not my business why things didn’t work out between you,” Logan argued. “And I’m not in this to make trouble.”

“Den what are ya in it for?”

“That’s none of yer business,” Logan told her calmly.

Belladonna narrowed her eyes. “Are the two of ya fuckin’?”

Logan’s brows beetled. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath. “Blunt, are we?”

“Ya won’t be when my son is wit’ his pere. I don’t want him bein’ exposed tad at. Ya wanna live dat lifestyle, it’s yer own affair. Jus’ leave my son out of it.”

“Lifestyle? Look, Bell, ya’ve got the wrong idea. Rem and I are friends…good friends. We haven’t made much of a decision one way or another how long this is gonna go on, or even where it’s gonna go. But it ain’t yer affair. And Rene spendin’ time around me is up ta his pop, not me. And as for my own lifestyle, darlin’, I’m clean, drug-free, relatively vanilla when it comes ta my personal life, and I ain’t a criminal. I make an honest living and I’ve never mistreated a child. My relationship with Remy, whether or not it ends up bein’ that way, doesn’t make me a deviant or a pervert. It just means when I have feelings for someone special, that someone could be a man or a woman. And there’s nothin’ wrong with feelin’ the way I feel.”

She looked like she drank sour milk. “Great. Dat’s great. Yer like Remy, huh? Like t’play games wit’ women, den get yer kicks wit’ men?”

Remy walked into the parlor and saw Logan from the back, posture stiff. Belladonna’s face told him all he needed to know from where he stood. Remy frowned, suddenly loaded for bear.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Hey,” Logan greeted him, but he looked unhappy. Remy laid his hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. He felt his broad muscle relax slightly.

“Yer friend here wuz jus’ tellin’ me a lil’ ‘bout de nature of yer friendship, and how the t’ree of you been spendin’ a lotta time together, all of a sudden.”

“And?” Remy challenged.

“Maybe that ain’t what I had in mind fo’ de comp’ny Rene keeps.”

“Maybe dat ain’t up t’you!” Remy flared, disgusted. “C’mon, Bella, don’ be dat way. Rene understands dat his papa-“

“How d’you know he understands, Remy?” she argued. “Dis come up in plain conversation?”

“We’ve talked about his papa spendin’ time wit’ his friends, and dat it ain’t much different from when Tony comes t’see him at your house, Bella.”

“It ain’t, huh? News flash: It IS different. I ain’t gay. He’ll never have ta worry about dat when his friends come over to my home.”

“And ya t’ink he’s gotta worry so much ‘bout dat wit’ me?”

“Look,” Logan sighed, “this ain’t the time or the place. Remy, I appreciate ya havin’ me here at yer son’s shindig, but maybe this ain’t a discussion ya oughta be havin’ with me around.” Remy’s eyes clouded with worry.

“Don’ go,” he murmured. Logan clapped him on the back, wishing he could wrap an arm around him comfortingly.

“Don’ let us stop ya if ya have other places ta be,” Bella countered, shrugging and smiling brightly. It was the first smile she’d give him since Logan arrived.

It was full of venom.

Elsewhere, Rene shot hoops, growing more exasperated with the moving basket, sinking only three.

He felt a tap on his left shoulder, then looked surprised only to find empty air.

“BOO!” Julien crowed from over his right side.

“ONCLE JULIEN! You came!” he exclaimed. He gave his uncle a hug, but drew back, slightly confused.

“T’ought ya wanted ta stay home an’ take a nap,” he pointed out.

He was accustomed to his uncle’s day time sleep habit, and was growing more used to the stinky cigarettes he smoked in his room. Rene missed his bedroom.

“Non. Wanted t’see mon neveu an’ have some birthday cake,” Julien told him. “An’ ya know what?”

“What?”

“Gotcha a present.”

“Where is it?”

“In de car,” Julien said.

“Are you gonna bring it in? I wanna see it.” Rene’s expression was petulant, reminding Julien of Belladonna when she was that age. He chuckled.

“Whynt’cha c’mon out an’ see it?”

“I can’t wait!”

*

Logan was frustrated, and Remy looked upset.

“Don’ take out yer hate fo’ Remy on my friend.”

“Den why don’tcha decide which is more important, yer friend, or yer son?”

Logan scanned the room, hoping Rene wasn’t in earshot of the conversation.

“Rem?”

“Yeah?”

“Where is he?”

“What?” Belladonna’s eyes widened, and she whipped around, searching the play place.

She saw birthday hats and brightly colored jerseys running around, and long strings of tickets and token cups. Skeeball machine lights flashed at her.

Rene was nowhere to be found.