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“Hmm…”
“What the fuck’s ‘hmm’ supposed to mean?” Baptiste said.
“Nothing.” They were eyeballing each other when Gator picked up the beer and took a swig. “We’ve got the same tastes it seems.”
“Beer or women?”
“Both.” Gator chinked his bottle against Baptiste’s, and they sipped them slowly, without talking till the waitress set two plates of Boudin balls in front of them.
“Thanks, babe.” Then turning to Gator, he said, “This is Gator.”
“Elodie,” she said as she raised her eyebrows then smiled.
“It’s a pleasure,” Gator said. She had lightly freckled fair skin just like Sylvie, and she looked beautiful as it turned pink when he said that.
When she headed back to the bar with her hips swaying, and every “cop” in the bar looking at her ass, Gator turned to Baptiste with a wide smile and said, “Anything else I don’t know about you?”
“Plenty,” his friend told him. “But how about telling me about Sylvie.”
* * *
As they choweddown on their Boudin balls and Cajun fried chicken, Elodie kept the drinks flowing, plying them with one Abita after another until Gator had to hold up a hand. “I’m calling quits on the drinks thanks, Elodie,” he told her, feeling the buzz start to settle in behind his eyes. He didn’t want to stop – the smooth, malty caramel flavor of the beer was too damn good – but he had to be able to ride his hog home later.
Baptiste, on the other hand, held up a finger and gestured for one more. “I’ll take another, sweetie,” he said with a roguish grin.
Gator shook his head slowly, amused despite himself. His big brother was a tough, gruff bastard most of the time, but Elodie had clearly gotten under his skin. He was acting like a lovesick puppy, and Gator couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy. He knew that look in Baptiste’s eyes all too well – it was the same look Gator had when he thought about Sylvie.
“How’re ya getting back?” Gator asked him.
“Elodie rides and she doesn’t drink while she’s working.”
“OK.”
“So, tell me about Sylvie,” Baptiste said.
* * *
It was1997 (just before Sylvie left town)
Gator sauntered down to the park like he did many afternoons, the crunch of gravel underfoot a familiar tune. It was where Sylvie and her friend Chelsea honed their baseball skills, and Gator was happy to watch from the sidelines, where he assumed they couldn’t see him. Sylvie's swing had been off lately, so she was spending a lot more time in the batter’s box. Gator had wondered what had caused her slump in performance, but even so, he couldn’t help but admire the way she swung the bat even when she wasn’t smacking the ball out of the park. She could outshine Marvin on her worst days, and Gator knew that was a sore point with the creep.
As he wandered around the field to take in hiscrushfrom a different angle, he was lost in thought when he spotted Chelsea, Sylvie’s BFF, standing off to the side, hunting for the ball. Her long brown hair was floating softly in the breeze, and when she swished it off her face she looked up and flashed a smile his way, calling out, “Hey, Gaston, what brings you here?”
Gaston shuffled his feet and shrugged. He didn’t want to admit that he came here often to watch Sylvie in action. That would be too embarrassing. “Just passing through,” he muttered, glancing over at Sylvie, who was walking towards Chelsea now.
As Gaston curled his fingers through the chain-link fence and pushed his face up against it to admire “his girlfriend,” Chelsea said, “Isn’t she something?” gesturing towards Sylvie.
“Yeah,” was all he could say.
Chelsea's laughter tinkled like wind chimes as she brushed another strand of hair out of her eyes. “You’re not the only one who thinks she’s special, Gaston.”
Gaston blushed and looked away.
Chelsea was more than a little bit jealous, but not because she had any sort of fondness for Gaston. He was just a kid. Sure, he had a crush on Sylvie, but who didn't? That girl was pure sunshine wrapped in a pretty package, and everyone loved her for it. It made Chelsea’ insides twist up with envy sometimes, but she kept it under wraps.
Sylvie was her only friend so it wouldn’t do to let anyone know how she felt, but deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d never be able to compete with Sylvie’s effortless charm and appeal.
Besides, Sylvie was stuck with the asshole Marvin, and Chelsea thought no matter who it was, she could easily find someone better than him for herself.
