Chapter 13: The Journalist
By the time Jackson and Rachel reached the bar, she wanted to shower again.
“Is it always this hot?” Rachel inquired, fanning herself despite the air blowing directly onto her glistening and color-deep soft skin.
“Don’t you live in the south?”
“Yeah, but Nashville doesn’t get like this.”
He smiled, noticing how his sister’s lime green dress clung to her thighs and legs like breasts to a wet t-shirt. “You look better in my sister’s clothes than she does.”
She knew he’d been staring at the natural curve of her breasts since they left the house. She’d even given him a bit more of a taste by going bra-less; allowing for the mesmerizing bounce of cleavage. “Thank you.” She replied, glad she didn’t wear anything underneath. “You sure she won’t mind?”
“Who? Bridgette? Nah,” he waved it off.
They arrived at a fork in the road, where Rachel saw the same little girl jumping rope on the road heading to the right.
“Aren’t there gators out here?” Her eyes were glued to the road and more so the grassy knoll that eventually dipped into the wetland.
Jackson veered the vehicle left and away from the little girl whom he didn’t seem to notice. “Among other things.”
“No way I’d let my child play around here.”
“Kids gotta play,” he said as if talking to no one in particular. They play in the middle of busy streets in the city, don’t they?”
“I suppose.” When Rachel looked back the girl was gone. “What the…? Where’d she go?”
“Who?”
“That little girl. The one with the jump rope.”
He gave her a peculiar look, but didn’t respond to that question. Instead, he pulled off the road and into a gravel parking lot, “Here we go. Theroit’s.”
The bar looked like something out of a cheap, old horror movie. It sat on the water, surrounded with a narrow porch and the tin of a rust-colored roof. A lone sign displaying the name of the ramshackle place hung above the front door in red neon. A short bridge led from the gravel road into the bar. She paid attention to the four cars parked facing the bar, not seeing the Ford that Chase had been driving among them. Yet for some reason a blue Honda SUV caught her eye.
“Now, Bridgette and Lenora aren’t always keen on strangers. So, just stick with me, when we get inside.”
“Are they not keen with strangers, or are they not keen on you coming in with a woman? A woman wearing one of their dresses”
“Might be a little of each.” He stepped out of the truck and walked around to Rachel’s door, opening it for her.
Rachel followed him into the bar, appreciating the cool dark room as the door closed behind her. Five burgundy-topped stools sat against the bar, while four booths leaned against the walls. Two bearded men who watched Rachel, sat across from each other in the booth closest to the kitchen. There was a lone woman dressed in jeans and a grey shirt nursing a drink. Briefly, her gaze met Rachel’s before Jackson spoke.
“Stay here a minute,” then he gestured to one of the booths.
Rachel watched him walk toward the kitchen. She couldn’t help but feel eyes on her. It was a feeling she’d had since crossing into Louisiana, and she wondered if it had something to do with the torrid history of the surrounding waters. She turned and looked over her shoulder curiously catching another woman at the bar staring back at her. She knew it wasn’t either of Jackson’s girls, in fact, this woman looked as out of place as Rachel felt. The woman smiled, and Rachel returned the favor.
Rachel was pulled away from the other woman as Jackson came out of the kitchen. A striking brunette followed him, carrying a grey rubber tub. She wore a pair of tight blue jean shorts and a black shirt with the bar’s name embroidered over her full left tit.
“Chère,” the woman nodded toward Rachel and then sat the tub down on the bar before wrapping Jackson in her arms. Rachel felt a twinge of jealousy as the other woman held the hug, piercing Rachel with a cold, yet inquisitive gaze.
“Who’s she?” Rachel heard the brunette whisper into Jackson’s ear. She obviously wasn’t playing coy.
“Can I get another?” The woman who sat alone gave Rachel another glance in the bar’s mirror. Her curly blonde hair was lighter than Rachel’s and sat on her head in a sloppy bun.
“Sure,” the brunette shot Jackson a look before she took care of the woman. Jackson gestured to Rachel, who got up, aware of the eyes following her every move as she went to stand by his side.
“Rachel, meet Bridgette.”
Bridgette gave a wan smile and ignored Rachel’s outstretched hand. “You want a drink?” she asked, handing a full glass to the woman who asked for one earlier.
“Thanks,” the lady said.
Jackson interjected Bridgette’s icy approach, “She’s looking for her fiancé.”
“Yes, he came through here last week.” Rachel said. “He was checking out the—.”
“He was in town looking to buy a house is all,” Jackson interjected.
Bridgette shook her head. “No strangers come through here but her,” she pointed at the woman she’d just served. The woman raised her glass to them without a word.
“You sure?” Rachel pulled up Chase’s picture. “His name is Chase.”
His image made Bridgette smile. “No Chère,” Bridgette grabbed the phone photo from Rachelle for a better look at the photo, salaciously licking her lips, “and if he had come by, I’d done everything I could to get him to stay awhile.”
“Lenora around?” Jackson asked before Rachel could comment.
“She’s somewhere flitting about. Wish she’d dodge trouble the same way she does work.”
“Can we ask her?” Rachel pleaded.
Bridgette shrugged. “Free country. But if a cutie came in here, Lenora would have said so. We both enjoy a nice view.”
The look she shot Jackson brought color to his cheeks, and Rachel felt another rush of jealousy. She opened her mouth, but the woman spoke again.
“One more for the road please,” she pushed the glass toward Bridgette who met Rachel’s eyes in the mirror.
“Sure,” Bridgette replied.
The front door opened, and a third woman strolled in with a bouquet of wildflowers in her small hands. Her pink dress flowed as she walked, and her pleasant gaze fell on Jackson and Rachel.
“Jackson,” she said hugging him just as Bridgette had. Rachel saw the resemblance as Lenora let go of Jackson. With an approach much friendlier than her sister, Lenora stretched out two arms to embrace Rachel.
“Rachel, meet Lenora,”
“I’m a hugger,” she replied. “I simply love your dress,”
Lenora smelled like candy as she let go and Rachel felt the sex pouring from her lithe body. “Nice to meet you.”
“Now how do you know dear sweet Jackson?” Lenora asked.
“He’s helping me,” she held out her phone. “Have you seen him? This is my fiancé, Chase.”
Something passed over Lenora’s eyes as Rachel held the phone up. She looked away quickly. “No.”
“Told you,” Bridgette said handing the woman her drink.
“Are you sure?” Rachel questioned, anxious at Lenora’s suddenly subdued appearance. “Can you take another—.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Lenora replied tersely. Rachel noticed the change in her demeanor.
“Maybe if you took a longer look—.”
“Why don’t you give us your phone number Chère, in case he does come ‘round,” Bridgette offered.
“Okay,” she said noticing Lenora failed to meet her gaze. Rachel said her number as Bridgette wrote it down on a napkin with lipstick she’d pulled from between her breasts.
The female customer who’d been carefully watching everything unfold got up, downed the remains of her drink, and left a twenty on the counter. “Nice place you got here,” she said walking out of the front door.
Bridgette took the empty glass and the money, while Lenora whispered something to Jackson.
“Give us a second,” Jackson said to Rachel, and the pair went into the kitchen.
Rachel watched them walk off as her phone vibrated.
“That might be your Chase,” Bridgette said as she followed Jackson and Lenora into the kitchen.
The text simply said:
Meet me outside.
The number wasn’t familiar, so Rachel responded: Why? Who are you?
She heard laughter from the back and felt the hungry stares of the men sitting across from her. One of them blew her a kiss while her phone vibrated again.
I think I know what happened to Chase.
Without delay, Rachel rushed outside.
She winced as the bright sunlight hurt her eyes and she made her way across the bridge. The Honda SUV drove up next to her. The woman who’d just left the bar lowered her driver’s side window. She was wearing large designer sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat reminiscent of the Kentucky Derby than the swamps. It was obvious she was trying to hide her appearance, although in a town like this it was obvious that an attractive woman regardless of how many layers she hid behind would always be noticed.
“Sorry, but I don’t have a lot of time.” She began. “I got your number when you told the bartender. My name is Willow Lane. I’m a reporter out of New Orleans.”
“What do you know about Chase?”
“Look, you gotta get out of here. Most of the folks who come here, end up missing and I don’t want you to end up that way. There’s a hotel ten miles north of town. Get a room, and call me later. Just get out of here as soon as you can.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
Rachel heard the bar’s door open behind her and turned to see Jackson walking toward her with the bouquet Lenora brought in.
“Just leave, Rachel. And do it fast,” Willow whispered, her eyes catching Jackson walking toward them in the background.
“Everything okay Rachel?” Jackson called out from the other side of the bridge.
“Yes,” Rachel called back to him, her eyes curiously staring back at the woman and the raising tinted window of her SUV.
Jackson watched the car drive out of the lot. “You know her?”
Rachel shook her head. “She just wanted to see Chase’s picture, but she didn’t recognize him either. Can we go?”
Jackson nodded and led her back to the truck. Rachel got in and looked back at the bar. Lenora stood in the doorway and gave Rachel a sad wave as they pulled away.