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"The man I called Grandpere is a drunk," I told her. "It's poisoned his brain."
I described the time I had poled our pirogue out to see him in the swamp and how he had gone berserk on his galerie. Then I described some of his ranting and raving in the house, how he wrecked things, dug up floorboards, and ended up sleeping in the muck and grime and not caring.
"I hardly think we'll become like that," Gisselle said. "Besides, you don't believe this is the first time I snuck some of our liquor, do you? All of my friends do it and no one is as bad as that old man you described," she insisted.
When I hesitated to take the glass of rum and Coke from her, she put her fist on her hip and scowled.
"Don't tell me you're going to be an old stickin-the-mud now and not have fun after I've invited the boys over, especially so you could have a boyfriend."
"I didn't say I wouldn't have some. I just--"
"Just have a drink and relax," she insisted. "Here!" she said, and shoved the drink at me. Reluctantly, I took the glass and sipped, while she took long gulps of hers. I couldn't help grimacing. To me it tasted like one of Grandmere Catherine's herbal medicines.
Gisselle stabbed me with a hard penetrating gaze and then shook her head.
"I guess you didn't have much fun living in the bayou. It sounds like all work and no play, which makes Jack a dull boy," she added, and laughed. "Jack?"
"It's just an expression. Really," she cried, throwing her hand up dramatically, "you're just like someone from a foreign country. I feel like I've got to do what Mother wants to do: teach you how to talk and walk." She took another gulp of her drink. Even Grandpere didn't swig it down that fast, I thought. I wondered if she was as sophisticated as she was making out to be.
"Hi, there," we heard Beau call, and turned to see two silhouettes come around the corner of the house. My heart began to drum in anticipation.
"Just remember to do what I told you to do and say what I told you to say," Gisselle coached.
"It's not going to work," I insisted in a whisper. "It better," she threatened.
The two boys stepped onto the pool deck and drew closer. I saw that Martin was a good-looking young man, about an inch or so taller than Beau, with jet black hair. He was leaner, longer-legged, and swaggered more when he walked. They were both dressed in jeans with white cotton shirts with buttoned-down collars. When they stepped into the dim pool of illumination cast by a lantern nearby, I noticed that Martin wore an expensive looking gold watch on his left wrist and a silver ID bracelet on the right. He had dark eyes and a smile that tucked the corner of his mouth into his cheek, creating more of a leer.
Gisselle nudged me with her elbow and then cleared her throat to urge me on.
"Hi," I said. My voice wanted to crack, but I felt Gisselle's hot, whiskey-scented breath on my neck, and I held myself together. "Martin, I'd like you to meet my sister, Ruby," I recited.
I couldn't see how anyone would think I was Gisselle, but Martin looked from me to Gisselle and then to me again with astonishment written on his face and not skepticism.
"Wow, you guys are really identical. I wouldn't know one from the other."
Gisselle laughed stupidly.
"Why, thank, you, Martin," she said with a silly twang, "That's a real compliment."
I gazed at Beau and saw a wry smile cocking his lips. Surely, he knew what we were doing, I thought, and yet he said nothing.
"Beau told me your story," Martin said to Gisselle, believing she was me. "I've been to the bayou, even to Houma. I could have seen you."
"That would have been nice," Gisselle said. Martin's smile widened. "We don't have too many good-looking boys out there in the swamps."
Martin beamed.
"This is great," he said, looking from me to her again. "I always thought Beau was real lucky having a girlfriend as pretty as Gisselle, and now there's a second Gisselle."
"Oh, I'm not as pretty as my sister," Gisselle said, batting her eyelashes and twisting her shoulder.
Anger, fanned by the rum that heated my blood, made my heart pound. A terrible fury washed over me as I sat here watching her make fun of me. Unable to hold back, I flared.
"Of course you're as pretty as I am, Ruby. If anything, you're prettier," I countered.
Beau laughed. I shot a furious glance at him and he knitted his eyebrows together with a look of confusion. Then he relaxed, his gaze fixing on the glasses in our hands.
"Looks like the girls have been enjoying themselves some before we got here," he said, turning to Martin and wagging his head toward the straw basket, the ice bucket, and Coke.
