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They were quiet for a long while as they drove from Belle Fleur to New Orleans. It was a solid forty-five minutes on a good day, and today wasn’t a good day. There was a steady rain falling, which only made people drive like assholes. In any rain, the streets begin to flood and limit where people can go. Today was no different.
“Do you ever think about it?” asked Ian, looking at Miller. He stared at his friend and knew exactly what he was asking.
“Death. Yeah, I’ve looked that bastard in the face a million times. Since back home, we’ve been fucking lucky. I know, Ian. I stare at myself in the mirror and still see that Ranger that I was. Somedays, I crack and pop when I get off the shitter, let alone when I run. But I can still move with ease. I can still run with all of you and make love to my wife every day. I’m doing okay.”
“I know what you mean,” smiled Ian. “I can’t help but wonder how my body would feel if I weren’t here. If I didn’t have access to the pond, would I be limping around like an old man? The old man I am.”
“Well, I’m grateful we’ll never know the answer to that question. I look at Mama and Pops, both over a hundred now, and they act like kids some days. Do you know that Antoine saw them out in one of the boats dancing? Dancing! On the deck of a small, wobbly boat! Yet there they were, swinging away, keeping their balance. That shit can’t be real, brother.”
Ian could only laugh at the image in his head. Irene and Matthew were both excellent physical specimens, but for how long? How long for any of them? He just didn’t want to think about it.
“Let’s hit this one first,” said Miller as he parked the car. “Great breakfast spot that’s been here forever.”
They walked in the door to a packed room of people, only a few tables available. The smells nearly knocked them over. Cinnamon, grits, bacon, ham, eggs, all of it wafting their way.
“Mornin’ sugar. Table for two?” asked a hearty older black woman.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Miller.
“Right this way,” she said, sliding off her stool. She wobbled and weaved through the tight-knit tables, finally setting them down in the corner.
“We were wondering if you could tell us if you all have had any trouble with your food deliveries?” asked Ian.
“Y’all food inspectors?” she said, eyeing them.
“No, ma’am,” said Miller. She looked him up and down, casting a look of doubt. “We work with the local growers and farmers, that’s all.”
“Mmhmm,” she frowned. “Boy, you ain’t gotta lie to me. You one of Matthew and Irene’s boys.” Miller’s eyes went wide.
“How did you know that?”
“Cause I ain’t stupid. You look just like that handsome daddy of yours. Got your mama’s eyes. Handsome as the day is long. Sinful, it is. All them gorgeous boys and stunning girls, then you went and had a whole new generation of ‘em. I know what y’all look like, baby.” Miller chuckled, shaking his head.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m number two. We’re just trying to help a friend who owns a restaurant, that’s all.”
“Ain’t no problem with food here. But our chef doesn’t have it delivered. He picks it up himself.”
“You didn’t say I was handsome as the day is long,” pouted Ian.
“You hold on there, silver fox,” she laughed. “You want a piece of Mattie, you can have it. You won’t be able to handle it, but you can have it. You’re both sexy as all get out. I knew you was Irene’s. What can I get y’all to eat?”
They placed their order, and a waitress returned with hot coffee and water. Miller just shook his head, realizing once again the reach of his parents.
“How do you think she knew your mom and dad?” asked Ian.
“Who knows? Probably the church, or maybe just helped her out at some point. She reminds me a bit of Ruby, so maybe she worked for her once upon a time. I seem to run into a lot of folks that know Mama and Pops.”
“They’re good people, Miller. The best.”
He nodded as the waitress set down their breakfast plates. When they were done, they laid out some cash with a hefty tip. Leaving the restaurant, Miller bent down, kissing Mattie’s cheek.
“You ain’t gotta kiss me to get information, handsome,” she giggled. “I asked the boys in the back, just to be sure. Ain’t had anything happen here, but they said that they heard Didier’s got some bad fish not too long ago. Made the whole damn place sick.”
“Thank you, Mattie. We’ll be back,” smiled Miller.
“I know you will. You love me; you just won’t admit it.”
Both men chuckled as they left, already feeling better about their day. The rain had let up a bit, allowing the water to recede on the streets. Making their way toward the next restaurant, they knew they’d have to wait until lunch for Didier’s to be open. Instead, they headed to Picou’s Diner. Relatively new in New Orleans speak, it had only been open about fifteen years.
